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 University of California, Berkeley 
 
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 LIBRARY 
 
Italian Castles 
 
 and 
 
 Country Seats 
 
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\!N[ CA5TLES 
 
 AND 
 
 BY 
 
 rb5 a\irH£I/LBR 
 
 HER MAJESTY QUEEN MARGHERITA OF ITALY 
 
 Re pr od Jiced from a photo gr aph presented by 
 Her Majesty to Mrs. Batcheller 
 
 LONGMANS. GREBN. AND CO 
 
 FOURTH AVENUE &. 30TH STREET, NEW ^rc>BK 
 LONDON. BOMBAY AND CALCUTTA 
 
ITALIAN CA5TLK 
 
 AND 
 
 COlINTKr5EAB 
 
 BY 
 TKrTHOSA BAXES BATCHEDLBR 
 
 LONGMANS, GREBN. AND CO 
 
 FOURTH AVENUE &. 30TH STREET. NBW YORK 
 ljONDON.BOMBAi:A>rD CALCUTTA. 
 
 1311 
 
COPYRIGHT, I9II, BY 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 LANDSCAPE 
 ARCHITECTURE 
 
 THE-PLIMPTON'PRESS 
 
 [WD.O] 
 NORWOOD»MASS»U-S'A 
 
DEDICATED BY SPECIAL PERMISSION TO 
 
 HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY 
 
 QUEEN MARGHERITA 
 
 OF ITALY 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THERE have been many books on Italy; 
 many books there are about ItaHan villas, 
 but the rare good fortune has been given 
 to me, not only to see many of the most 
 beautiful villas of Italy, but to be lavishly and com- 
 fortably entertained by their hospitable owners whom 
 I am happy to be able to call my friends. 
 
 My preparations for this present book have been 
 a round of joyous happenings, and if my opinions of 
 Italy and the Italians are enthusiastic, it is because 
 I must write of a country as I see it, and of a people 
 as I find them. Nor am I forced to write from 
 even an outsider's view-point, for my hosts have 
 not only given me freely of their hospitality, but 
 of their friendship and confidence, allowing me to 
 tell my friends and readers what I wish of a life they 
 have generously allowed me to share in their beautiful 
 country. 
 
 It has been said that all people that are not Italians 
 have two countries, their own and Italy; and surely 
 Italy has given to the world many men and women 
 who stand out as master minds of the world on the 
 pages of the history of science, art and literature, 
 while the deeds of Italy's heroes and heroines fill 
 [viil 
 
PREFACE 
 
 many of our favorite volumes on the shelves of our 
 libraries. As Italy has produced great men and 
 women in the past, so to-day it has given us Queen 
 Margherita, Marconi, d'Annunzio, and Puccini, and 
 while a hero of peace, history is sure to record the 
 reign of Victor Emmanuel III as one of the brightest 
 periods in modern Italian history. 
 
 Modern Italy and modern Italian conditions are 
 not always appreciated or understood by us here in 
 America. There are those who form their judgments 
 of that great and glorious land from some poor peasant 
 only a short, time after his arrival in what seems to 
 him a harsh, cold country, for he shrinks more from 
 the jeering tones of those who call him ''dago" or 
 "guiney" than because he understands the meaning 
 of these rude terms. 
 
 We are not all alive to the fact that in a few years 
 this same peasant is no longer called "dago," and is 
 no longer poor, but has, like many of his compatriots, 
 become an American citizen, and has amassed a con- 
 siderable amount of money that is carefully deposited 
 in some well-known bank. Already in New York City 
 the Italians own some sixty million dollars' worth of 
 real-estate, which would seem to definitely contradict 
 the reports that the Italian immigrant generally 
 returns to his own country. 
 
 Modern Italy has its poor, but it has also its rich 
 and highly cultured class, and it is of this class more 
 especially that I have written. It would take a more 
 nimble pen than mine to do full justice to the charm 
 
Ill a j:iTT /. Ai/a' oi^ OTti V -D'/T wT TT831AM 8IH 
 Y 1 ATI "5 O 
 
 '^ i Vi 'i X « -b 1 "s •< (V A (?^ V. A ^, o ^ '\ (^; ■, jt ^ \ <\ ^ 51 
 
many of our favorite volumes on the shelves of our 
 libraries. As Italy has produced great men and 
 women in the past, so to-day it has given us Queen 
 Margherita, Marconi, d'Annunzio, and Puccini, and 
 while a hero of peace, history is sure to record the 
 reign of Victor Emmanuel III as one of the brightest 
 periods in modern Italian history. 
 
 Modern Italy and modern Italian conditioi/ 
 not always appreciated or understood by us here in 
 America. There are those who form their judgments 
 of that great and glorious land from some poor peasant 
 only a short, time after his arrival in what seems to 
 him a harsh, cold country, for he shrinks more from 
 the jeering tones of those who call him ''dago" or 
 *'guiney" than because he understands the meaning 
 
 H-isMA TESTY KING VITTORIO EMANUELE III 
 
 o! these Time terms-^p italy 
 
 \\b^«2?jlV^e gfUoaJiy^Ab>«oir<z/)A presented by 
 
 this same ^{yhiiMrWAb M^fi'^'.^'^^'' , 
 
 no longer poor, but has, like many of his compatriots, 
 become an American citizen, and has amassed a con- 
 ■^'' • jble amount of money that is carefully ' - ♦^ - ^ 
 
 Tie well-known bank. Already in New ^ 
 the Italians own some sixty million dollars' worth of 
 real-estate, which would seem to definitely contradict 
 the reports that the Italian immiirrant genei lly 
 returns to his own country. 
 
 Modern Italy has its poor, but it has also its rich 
 
 and highly cultured class, and it is of this class more 
 
 especially that I have written. It would take a more 
 
 nimble pen than mine to do full justice to the charm 
 
 [ viii ] 
 
PREFACE 
 
 and simple elegance of the high class Italian men and 
 women, who live their lives luxuriously, but quietly, 
 quite indifferent as to whether the world knows of 
 them or not. 
 
 I am well aware that I have seen but a part of the 
 villas, castles and palaces of Italy; it would take more 
 than one lifetime to see all the hidden wonders of this 
 garden of the world, but thanks to the interest and 
 kindness of my many Italian friends, it has been my 
 pleasant privilege to see many of the most magnificent 
 of the castles and country seats of Italy. 
 
 In the letters written to my mother, I have fitted 
 together two sojourns in Italy, but the sequence of 
 seasons was, in reality, exactly as described, and into 
 the personal experiences I have tried to intertwine 
 briefly the history of some of my friends' famous 
 ancestors, whose lives have helped to make not only 
 the wonderful history of the peninsula but of Europe. 
 
 Her Majesty Queen Margherita has, from the 
 first, inspired and encouraged my work, and to Her 
 Majesty I tender my grateful thanks. 
 
 To their Majesties, the King and Queen of Italy, I 
 wish to express my gratitude for their generous interest 
 and kindness to me during my preparations for this 
 book. To President Taft I wish to express my sincere 
 thanks and grateful acknowledgment of his powerful 
 aid and generous interest in this book as well as in all 
 my literary work. 
 
 May the following pages serve to interest my friends 
 and readers and, in some small measure, express my 
 
PREFACE 
 
 appreciation of the bountiful kindness and happiness 
 I have known in beautiful Italy. 
 
 "And even since and now, fair Italy! 
 Thou art the garden of the world, the home 
 Of all Art yields and Nature can decree. 
 Even in thy desert what is like to thee? 
 Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste 
 More rich than other climes' fertility." — Byron, 
 
 TRYPHOSA BATES-BATCHELLER. 
 August, 191 1 
 
 [=1 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Into Italy over St. Bernard Pass. Valley of Aosta i 
 
 Gressoney and Castello di Savoia 12 
 
 Turin, its Suburbs, and across Italy 22 
 
 Rimini, Castles of Le Marche and La Romagna . . 47 
 
 Bologna and Villas of ^Emilia 88 
 
 Venice and Villas of Venetia 138 
 
 From Padova to Verona, Lakes Garda and Como . 181 
 
 Villas of Lake Como and the "Brianza" .... 191 
 
 Back to Bologna and on to Florence 275 
 
 From Florence to San Gimignano and Siena . . . 289 
 
 Tuscan Villas and Visits to them 306 
 
 Umbria, its Castles and their Hospitality .... 321 
 
 Bologna and the Opera Season 357 
 
 Turin, Stupinigi, H. M. Queen Margherita. .. . . 365 
 
 Rome, H. M. Queen Elena, and Society 370 
 
 Motor Trips to Castelli Romani and the Campagna 384 
 
 Villa Lante and its Wonders 395 
 
 Caprarola and Bracciano 407 
 
 Nemi's Castle and Roman Evenings 416 
 
 Sermoneta and its Story 426 
 
 Villas of Frascati 432 
 
 Arsoli and the Sabine Mountains 442 
 
 Villa Medici and Last Days in Rome 450 
 
 Naples and on to Sicily 458 
 
 Palermo and the Conca d' Oro 461 
 
 Across Sicily to Taormina 495 
 
 "Addio a Napoli" and Home 504 
 
 [xi] 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 H. M. Queen Margherita {Photogravure) Frontispiece 
 
 H. M. King Victor Emmanuel III {Photogravure) viii 
 
 First Glimpse of Italy — Valley of Aosta and Italian Alps 2 
 
 Castello di Montalto, Valley of Aosta 6 
 
 Valley of Gressoney lO 
 
 H. M. Queen Margherita Arriving for Mass at Village Church of Gressoney 
 
 St. Jean, Piedmont 14 
 
 Stairway and Music Room, Castello di Savoia at Gressoney 18 
 
 Villa Tesoriera of H. S. H. Princess Ratibor de Hohenlohe, near Turin . . 26 
 
 Entrance Hall at the Villa Tesoriera 30 
 
 Prince Giovanni Torlonia 36 
 
 Republic of San Marino 52 
 
 Walled Town of Gradara 62 
 
 Doorway in the Castello of Urbino 74 
 
 Duke and Duchess Visconti di Alodrone 84 
 
 Salon of Palazzo Aldrovandi, Bologna 98 
 
 Villa Croce del Biacco and Villa Hercolani, Belpoggio, Bologna .... 104 
 
 Castello Cavazza at San Martino, near Bologna 1 12 
 
 Court of Castello Cavazza II2 
 
 The Amphitheatre of the Old University of Bologna 126 
 
 The Great Lecture Desk of Cedar, University of Bologna 126 
 
 Tempietto in the (Villa Borghese) Villa Umberto Primo at Rome {Color) . 138 
 
 Villa Forti at Noventa Padovana 152 
 
 Marchese Clemente Theodoli 166 
 
 Palazzo Pisani at Stra 170 
 
 Ball Room of the Palazzo Pisani at Stra 172 
 
 Luncheon Party at Villa Morpugo at Conegliano, Venetia 178 
 
 Princess Giovanelli 182 
 
 I xiii 1 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Gardens of the Hotel Villa d'Este i88 
 
 Villa Taverna at Torno, Lake Como 192 
 
 Villa PHniana, Lake Como , 196 
 
 Entrance to Mrs. Fisher's Villa at Urio, Lake Como 196 
 
 Villa Cagnola at Gazzada, Lombardy 204 
 
 Countess Taverna and Young Ladies 212 
 
 Villa Trotti and Church of San Giovanni at Bellagio, Lake Como . . . 214 
 
 Villa Olmo of the Duke Visconti di Modrone on Lake Como 216 
 
 Tempietto in the Great Park of the Villa Olmo 220 
 
 Villa Tittoni-Traversi at Desio, near Milan . . . . " 228 
 
 One of the Waterways in the Park, Villa Tittoni-Traversi 232 
 
 H. M. Queen Margherita and Her Mother, H. R. H. the Dowager Duchess 
 
 of Genoa 240 
 
 The Marchesa Bice d' Adda and Count Greppi 240 
 
 Formal Garden and Park at the Villa d' Adda at Arcore 242 
 
 Salon of Villa Montagnola 244 
 
 Villa Mombello of Prince Pio di Savoia 248 
 
 Gardens of the Villa Subaglio of Don Giacomo Sala 250 
 
 Marchesa Zaccaria 254 
 
 Stairway and Interior of Villa Belvedere, near Milan, of Duke Visconti di 
 
 Modrone 262 
 
 Salon of Princess Molfetta-Scotti at Oreno 268 
 
 Pope Pius n (Piccolomini) Canonizing Catherine Benincasa of Siena {Color) 276 
 
 Princess Abamelek-Lazarew 280 
 
 Approach to Villa Sergardi at Casale, near Siena 300 
 
 Theatre in Palazzo Piccolomini at Pienza, Tuscany 320 
 
 Sala dei Notari, Municipio, Perugia 326 
 
 Castello Guglielmi on Isola Maggiore, Lake Trasimeno, Umbria , . '. .340 
 
 Salon of the Countess Pozzo di Borgo, near Pisa 354 
 
 The Countess Bianconcini 362 
 
 Castello di Stupinigi 366 
 
 Great Ball Room and Salon of Queen Margherita in the Castello di Stupinigi 368 
 
 H. M. Queen Margherita at Stupinigi 370 
 
 Formal Garden and Loggia of Villa Albani 372 
 
 f xivl 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Ruin of Greek Temple in Villa Albani at Rome 374 
 
 H. M. Queen Elena {Photogravure) 376 
 
 Marchese Capranica del Grillo 380 
 
 Posilipo, Bay of Naples, and Mt. Vesuvius (Color) 392 
 
 Interior of Villa Primoli 404 
 
 Castello and Lake of Nemi 416 
 
 Salon of Castello of Nemi 416 
 
 Room in the Castello of Nemi 422 
 
 Marchesa di Rudini 426 
 
 Castello Forte of Sermoneta 428 
 
 Princess of Teano . . . . ' 432 
 
 Prince and Princess d' Arsoli and Son 444 
 
 Town and Castello of Arsoli 446 
 
 The Armory of the Castello of Arsoli 446 
 
 T. R. H. the Prince of Piedmont, Princesses Jolanda and Mafalda . . . 456 
 
 T. M. King Victor Emmanuel III and Queen Elena ....... 456 
 
 Villa of Dr. Shearer, near Naples 458 
 
 T. R. H. the Count of Turin, the Duke of the Abruzzi, and the Duke and 
 
 Duchess of Aosta 460 
 
 The Royal Children of Italy 466 
 
 Donna Franca Florio 472 
 
 T. M. King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra of England 474 
 
 Countess Mazzarino 482 
 
 Bed Room of the Princess of Trabia, Palazzo Butera, Palermo .... 484 
 
 Princess of Trabia 486 
 
 Ruins of the Greek Temple at Taormina (Color) 498 
 
 The Garden of Baron von Gloden's Villa at Taormina, Sicily 500 
 
 President Taft (Photogravure) 508 
 
 Miss Mabel Boardman 510 
 
 [xv] 
 
Italian Castles and 
 Country Seats 
 
 Piedmont, Italy 
 Gressoney, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 IN RIVA AL LTS 
 
 " A pie del monte la cul neve e rosa 
 In su'l mattino candido e vermiglio, 
 Lucida, fresca, lieve, armoniosa 
 Traversa un' acqua ed ha noma dal giglio." 
 
 Carducci. 
 
 ON THE BANKS OF THE LTS 
 At the foot of the mountain with rose-tinted snows, 
 
 In the pure red lights of the morn, 
 Lightly, freshly, with musical song. 
 
 The river named from the lily flows. 
 
 OF all the miniature places ! A sort of fairy- 
 land this with queer little houses, out 
 of which come the most fascinating peas- 
 ants, clad in bright scarlet dresses with 
 lace-bordered black satin aprons and extraordinary 
 gilt headdresses. A dear little strip of verdure, dotted 
 with Swiss-looking chalets, cut by the noisy, rushing 
 torrent of the little river Lys; made real and human 
 by the small quaint church and the picturesque peas- 
 ants; shut in on two sides by high mountains, and 
 brought to an end by the great, glorious snows of Monte 
 
 [I] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Rosa, that seem to look down in benediction on this 
 exquisite bit of the world, seemingly set aside for peace, 
 beauty and harmony; a fitting place for the summer 
 repose of the beloved Margherita of Savoy, Italy's 
 first Queen. 
 
 The trip up here was simply glorious. We left 
 Aix after luncheon, and greatly enjoyed the wild, luxu- 
 riant scenery of the Haute Savoie, but at dusk we found 
 ourselves at the little village of Bourg St. -Maurice, and 
 here we decided to stop for the night, in order to 
 have all the next day to enjoy the wonders of the 
 Little St. Bernard Pass. I was up early, and our 
 FIAT "Antonio" was started on his great climb 
 not long after eight-thirty. The morning was per- 
 fect, and we mounted up and up over the smoothest 
 of roads, leaving the little Tarentaise village with its 
 quaint people and good cooking far beneath us in the 
 valley below. As we climbed nearer the snow moun- 
 tains, we photographed some of the doll-like villages 
 scattered here and there on these great heights; and 
 then "Antonio," who seems a veritable mountain 
 goat, carried us up to the hospice, past the great statue 
 of Saint Bernard, formerly a Jupiter of the now-ruined 
 Roman temple here, over and down into Italia Ado- 
 rata and the beautiful valley of Aosta. We had gone 
 but a short distance when some little boys ran out 
 with bunches of eidelweiss. Vincenzo (our chauffeur) 
 begged permission to stop a moment, and I, fearing 
 something was wrong with the car, gave an anxious 
 consent. But my fears were turned to smiles when 
 Vincenzo paid the boy for the largest bunch of flowers, 
 and making a profound bow, handed them to me, 
 
 [2] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 saying, "Mi permetta d'offrirle, Signora, il primo 
 omaggio d' Italia." (Permit me, Signora, to offer 
 you the first homage from Italy.) Wasn't that rather 
 nice .? 
 
 Poets and painters have vied with one another in 
 describing the wild, impressive beauties of this world- 
 famed valley. My kodak has done fairly well for the 
 first glimpse, but to really appreciate the full glory of 
 the valley one must look upon it long, and from many 
 points. In the distance are the great peaks of the Alps, 
 crowned by Mont Blanc clad in Nature's glorious 
 snow mantle; in the foreground are the lesser moun- 
 tains, and jutting out into the valley are bold prom- 
 ontories topped by crumbling towers and ruined 
 castles, that command first one turn and then another 
 of the great ravine, down which rush the joyous waters 
 of the Dora. Schubert's water music played fortis- 
 simo might describe this lovely stream, but every 
 adjective needs underlining when one speaks of Italy; 
 yet however noisy the river, it is ever melodious and 
 beautiful, ever happy because it has come from the 
 eternal snows, where all is peace and harmony; and 
 laughing like a happy child it rushes through its own 
 valley, quite unmindful either of the Romans' advance 
 (140 B.C.) from one watch tower to another, or of 
 the feudal barons, hundreds of years later, holding 
 tyrannical sway over the surrounding country, and 
 contending fiercely with one another for some petty 
 right or bit of land. Men and their fortresses, their 
 struggles and wars, their desires, jealousies and tri- 
 umphs, seem so ephemeral and puny before Nature's 
 grandeurs such as these. 
 
 13] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 It is just as beautiful to-day as a thousand years 
 ago, and just as impervious to time as the men who 
 traverse it are the reverse. How human and hope- 
 lessly limited we all are, for in the midst of these 
 splendors both F. B. and I confessed to everyday, 
 unpoetic hunger. I wouldn't hear of luncheon until 
 Aosta anyway, so on we went through this fairyland 
 of great castles and picturesque ruins, each of which 
 I wanted to photograph. But Vincenzo, also anxious, 
 I fancy, for his chianti, said rather dissuasively, "O, 
 Signora, ce ne sono tanti, e tanti a venire!" (Oh, 
 Signora, there are so many, and so many yet to come !) 
 Nevertheless, I think you may like to hear about some 
 of them. 
 
 Near Villeneuve, on a high, imposing position, is 
 the Chatel d'Argent, which dates from the tenth 
 century, and was built in part with Roman materials 
 found there in ruins. The great donjon is still stand- 
 ing in the midst of the now-ruined walls. Coins were 
 stamped here in the past, so the silver name comes 
 down to us to-day. A little farther on is the great 
 square tower of the eleventh century, standing like a 
 grave sentinel to watch over that special portion of 
 the valley. Near St. Pierre we saw one of the best 
 preserved and most interesting castelli of the whole 
 valley, which is still inhabited by its owner. Count 
 Sarriod de la Tour, though it dates from the fourteenth 
 century; and at Sarre, the royal chateau stands out 
 boldly and bravely like its builder, Victor Emmanuel 
 II, who had the present castle erected on the site of 
 the thirteenth century stronghold. The *'Roi Chas- 
 seur" was very fond of the upper valley of the river 
 
 [4] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Dora, and a fine monument by Tortone in Aosta com- 
 memorates his frequent hunting trips here. 
 
 From Aosta the valley broadens out to its full 
 width, and though the scene is less grandiose, it is 
 ever smiling and lovely; the sunny slopes on both sides 
 of the valley are dotted with pretty villas encircled 
 with picturesque pergolas, over which the vines are 
 artistically trained. Every province of Italy has its 
 own special manner of training the grapevines; all about 
 Milan and in Lombardy generally, as well as in pictur- 
 esque and artistic Tuscany, the vines are trained from 
 tree to tree, and these long lines of trees form the divi- 
 sions of the broad, cultivated fields. In Sicily the 
 vine is made to grow straight up on a sort of pole, 
 and in other provinces still other methods are used; 
 but these pergolas of the Aosta valley seem to me 
 quite the most picturesque of all ways to have vine- 
 yards. 
 
 As we went through Quart we saw another old 
 chateau which had the rocks of Nature as rude 
 but enduring foundations, and at Fenis the castello 
 is so fine as to have been made a national monument. 
 It was built in 1350 by a preceptor of Amadaeus VII, 
 and has had varying fortunes; only its architectural 
 beauty is left, however, for its once rich interior fur- 
 nishings have completely disappeared. Fenis is no 
 longer the stronghold of the early feudal robber baron, 
 but rather the country residence of a great nobleman, 
 and marks the transition from the castello-forte to 
 the castello-di-campagna, which, though still pro- 
 tected by walls, a donjon, and other suitable means 
 of defence, is however a less austere and more agree- 
 
 [5] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 able place for a summer sojourn. Its access is easy 
 and its position less commanding than the castle we 
 passed farther on at Verres, which is the perfect type 
 of the fortified castle of the Middle Ages, and one 
 of the grandest examples of a feudal stronghold in all 
 Europe. It was built in 1390 a.d. by the counts of 
 Challant, refortified in 1536, and its splendid, massive 
 construction bears witness to the proud power of its 
 builders. The House of Challant became extinct in 
 1565, and the Royal House of Savoy became the pos- 
 sessors of the castle, which is now a national monument, 
 with its preservation guaranteed by the government. 
 Its position is picturesque in the extreme, for its huge 
 mass seems actually a part of the great rocky eminence 
 from which it rises, and commands not only the valley 
 of Verres, but that of the valley to one side, which still 
 bears its name. In striking contrast to these vast- 
 nesses, across the valley stands the chateau of Issogne, 
 also built by the lords of Challant, but marking dis- 
 tinctively another epoch in the Middle Ages. The 
 castle of Verres seems to speak of hard, tempestuous 
 times, where the rule of the strong was supreme; but 
 the castle of Issogne seems to have been built in 
 brighter, less agitated times, when it was possible more 
 freely to enjoy the surrounding beauties of Nature, 
 and to give more thought to the art and decoration, 
 rather than to the strength, of one's abiding-place. 
 
 Two more castelli gave us beautiful pictures to look 
 upon at Arnaz, and we were swiftly carried on past 
 the ever-new and interesting scenes of this marvel- 
 lous valley. At last we reached the castle of Bard, 
 which I have been so anxious to see. It is an immense 
 
 [6] 
 
w 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 structure, for a fort has been built on the ruins of 
 the tenth century castle. On the first of June, 1800, 
 Napoleon Bonaparte surrounded and captured the 
 stronghold, having made the unequalled march of his 
 artillery over the Mont Albard in the night, by the 
 very route dominated by the castle. 
 
 We stopped now and then to gather some of the 
 many unusual flowers that are found all about here, 
 and help to complete the illusion of this fairyland. 
 We were soon at Donnaz, however, where a large 
 smoky steel manufactory quite brought us back to 
 earth and the practical but unattractive observance 
 of daily needs. Smoking chimneys and large, fine 
 steel works were not at all in keeping with the pictur- 
 esque castles and wonderful snow peaks, but I was 
 glad to see them, nevertheless, for it showed that the 
 glorious valley and its people are of to-day, as well 
 as of yesterday and of thousands of years ago, when 
 the Romans built the arch of Donnaz as marking 
 the entrance to the valley. But the valley really 
 terminates at Pont San Martino, where we saw the 
 beautiful, well-preserved Roman bridge, built 100 B.C., 
 and as we turned to climb the narrow road leading 
 up to Gressoney, past the great ruined castle, we had 
 the loveliest view of this fairy valley through which 
 we had just come all too quickly; for I think it would 
 be diflicult to find more beautiful, grandiose and inter- 
 esting scenery in the world. 
 
 The way up here was also lovely, but it was getting 
 rather late, and as we passed village after village, and 
 still the peasants pointed farther on and farther up, 
 when Vincenzo asked about Gressoney, we felt as if 
 
 [7] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 we were going to the end of nowhere. Marchese 
 del Grillo, whom we saw at Aix, told us not to expect 
 much in the way of luxuries, so we were prepared to 
 rough it, but we are really quite comfortable. The 
 little hotel is filled, so the landlord has given us quar- 
 ters in the priest's house near by. Our room is enor- 
 mous, the walls hung with pictures of various members 
 of the priest's family and of numerous brother prel- 
 ates. I really felt rather queer this morning to wake 
 up and find so many vested gentlemen staring at me. 
 I did not expect to see anyone up here that I knew 
 except the Marchese del Grillo, who had intimated 
 to me that Her Majesty Queen Margherita would 
 graciously receive me, but on entering the little dining- 
 room of the hotel, who should come forward to greet 
 me in the most cordial way but the Baroness Colucci 
 and her husband; and soon afterward Prince Giovanni 
 Torlonia gave me the most genial and pleasant *'ben- 
 venuta" (welcome). After dinner Torlonia asked me 
 to join with the others in the children's games, and we 
 had the jolliest sort of romp for two hours, when the 
 children were told to say *' Good-night" and go to bed. 
 And go they did without a murmur; all coming to each 
 of us who had played with them, the little boys bowing 
 and kissing the hand, the little girls courtesying pret- 
 tily. I mentally compared the "Good-night" of some 
 other children I have seen elsewhere, and wished their 
 mammas could see how these Italian darlings obey 
 their parents. But we are all rather like children, 
 for when the little ones had gone to bed, we "grown- 
 ups" all played games merrily until after midnight. 
 The games are much like ours. This is one of them. 
 
 [8] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 All sit so as to form a circle, and each person takes the 
 name of a well-known town; the person in the centre 
 calls two or three names of towns, and those people have 
 to jump up and change places; the one in the centre 
 at the same time makes for one of the empty places, 
 and, in the scramble of a "posto generale" (general 
 change), where everybody has to move, usually gets 
 one. Then we took the color of the costume and gen- 
 der of the person to the left, and Prince Torlonia was 
 chosen to guess the riddle. I would answer "Yes'* 
 to the question, "Is it a man?" because Baron Colucci 
 was beside me; but he in turn would answer "No" 
 to the same question, because the young and pretty 
 daughter of the Marchesa Brevio of Milan was seated 
 beside him. However, Torlonia guessed the trick 
 after a while, and we all went laughing to our rooms 
 at a wee small hour. They have all made me feel 
 quite at home already, and it seems as if I had been 
 here some time. 
 
 Just how we are to fit in all our delightful invita- 
 tions, bring them in proper sequence for our conven- 
 ience, and that of our good friends, is at present a 
 mystery to me. But the weather is so glorious and 
 the car so fine, that I am blissfully relying on a generous 
 Destiny to guide us aright as the season advances. 
 
 Our chauffeur Vincenzo is most amusing about 
 the car. Ever since we solemnly named it, and as 
 solemnly poured champagne on the front lights, after 
 a jolly luncheon with friends at Fontainebleau, Vin- 
 cenzo speaks of the car as if it were a real person, and 
 reports as to "Antonio's" health regularly every morn- 
 ing. We all hope his patron saint, Sant' Antonio di 
 
 [9] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Padora, will guide our steps aright and never let us 
 lose our way. Poor Sant' Antonio, I never keep proper 
 track of all the candles I owe him for the things he has 
 found for me when I had quite given them up for lost. 
 But Sant' Antonio never could find for Italy the beau- 
 tiful Province of Savoy, for that was lost in another 
 way. Napoleon III demanded that young Italy pay 
 very dearly for his help against Austria, but glori- 
 ous, fertile Savoy was too much to give up. Think 
 of it! The great Province of Savoy ^ the very country 
 from which the reigning sovereigns of Italy take their 
 family name, had to be given over to France, though 
 Napoleon only partly fulfilled his promises. It is 
 probable that when he saw Italians from all parts of 
 Italy fighting side by side at Magenta he surmised 
 that Cavour had something more in mind than the 
 aggrandizement of Piedmont, for the French monarch 
 hastened the end of hostilities and brought about the 
 peace of Villafranca July ii, 1859, leaving Venice and 
 Venetia under Austrian rule, though the agreement 
 was to/' liberate Italy from the Alps to the Adriatic." 
 Nevertheless, Villafranca, though not celebrated as 
 an Italian festival, was in reality the beginning of 
 modern Italy, and though it was bitter indeed for 
 Victor Emmanuel II and Cavour to give up Savoy and 
 beautiful Nice (the home of Garibaldi), Italy is united 
 and exists to-day as a great nation; Garibaldi's war- 
 cry is fulfilled, *'Fuori d'ltalia lo straniero!" (Out of 
 Italy the foreigner!), and the House of Savoy is ever 
 true to its glorious motto, "Sempre avanti" (Always 
 onward). All that is left to Italy of Savoy to-day is 
 the land about the Abbey of Hautecombes, which we 
 [lol 
 
VALLEY OF GRESSONEY 
 
 Showing Monte Rosa in the distance and C as t ello 
 d i S av i a in foreground 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 visited when we were at Aix-les-Bains. Until 1778 
 the dukes of the House of Savoy were buried in the 
 abbey church. This royal Cistercian abbey is beauti- 
 fully situated on the banks of the Lac du Bourget 
 ("Superbement assise dans une bouquet de verdure," 
 as the French describe it), and by diplomatic arrange- 
 ment between Italy and France is under the inviolable 
 patronage of the reigning House of Savoy. 
 
 A few years ago on August thirty-first, Queen Mar- 
 gherita came here incognito, but the monks, who, of 
 course, had seen Her Majesty's picture, at once recog- 
 nized their distinguished visitor, so the Queen Mother 
 kindly dropped her incognito and received the homage 
 due her. A month later the King and Queen came 
 also, and again the royal guests were recognized ; one of 
 the monks designated to show Their Majesties about, 
 pointed to a picture of Queen Elena hanging in the 
 Royal apartments, saying, "Excuse me, Madame, do 
 you not greatly resemble Her Majesty, the Queen 
 of Italy .^" Queen Elena replied very amiably, but 
 with a slight smile, "Yes, I have often been told I 
 am like Elena of Italy, but I think Her Majesty is 
 a little taller than I." This showed the monk that 
 Their Majesties, for reasons of their own, wished care- 
 fully to maintain their incognito, which was, of course, 
 respected. 
 
 It is very late. More to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 [II] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Gressoney, August 15 
 My dearest M: 
 
 We have had the most interesting time this morn- 
 ing! To-day is the Festa of the Madonna d' Agosto 
 (Our Lady of August), and we went to mass at the 
 httle church near by, for we knew Her Majesty would 
 'come, and as the Queen Mother Hves a most reposeful 
 and secluded life in her summer home, far from the 
 gayeties and the exigencies of court, we hoped to see 
 her at the church, to which she is most devoted. We 
 went over rather early, but found the Countess Pozzo 
 di Borgo already there; she came up at once with a 
 most cordial "Good-morning," and as we talked we 
 heard the whiz and toot-toot of one motor car — a 
 stop — and another — and after a minute, still an- 
 other. "The Queen?" I asked, and turned an expect- 
 ant glance in the direction of the sounds; but the 
 Countess said, "Oh, no! this is a party from Cour- 
 mayeur;" and sure enough, down into the quaint 
 little square, bordered with little chapels encircling 
 the church, came one after another of the merry party, 
 having left the motors near the hotel. The handsome 
 Marchesa di Bagno, in pongee suit and dainty motor 
 veil, was the most noticeable, but Italian women are 
 very good-looking, and they all have a certain "chic" 
 that makes them attractive in the extreme. 
 
 At last we heard the long, musical chord of the 
 royal car, and in another moment the big carabiniere 
 silently stalked in front of the crowd, motioning to 
 us all to be quiet — needlessly, for everyone was most 
 circumspect and well-behaved. A great many of the 
 [12] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 peasants had come for the mass, and I can hardly 
 describe to you the fanciful picture made by the 
 handsome Itahan ladies, in the smartest of Paris 
 fashions, talking with big, six-foot, London-dressed 
 men, while beside them, speaking a strange, German- 
 French patois, were the peasants in their scarlet petti- 
 coats and gpld headdresses; the whole framed by the 
 background of quaint, fifteenth century frescoes of 
 the half-open chapels, that reminded me (the chapels, 
 not the frescoes) of the sheds surrounding a New Eng- 
 land meeting-house. Everyone waited anxiously. The 
 priest, in festal vestments, approached the open door 
 of the church, holding in his hand the small golden 
 vessel containing holy water, while the little altar boy 
 stood reverently behind with the incense holder. 
 Presently, around the corner of the church came Her 
 Majesty, accompanied by Count Guiccioli, Her Ex- 
 cellency the Marchesa di Villamarina, — the Lady- 
 of-Honor who is always with Her Majesty, — the 
 Princess S., and Marchese Giorgio Capranica del Grillo. 
 Her Majesty wore the nicest of plain, tailored suits, 
 with a most becoming hat trimmed with purple flow- 
 ers; and the magical, world-famed smile was as lovely 
 as ever and as spontaneously gracious. As the Queen 
 passed into the church after duly and graciously 
 making her religious oblations to the priest, we all 
 filed in after, and the Countess Pozzo di Borgo saw 
 that F. B. and I had very nice seats. One would think 
 I was a long-lost child instead of a simple foreigner, 
 by the way these sweet friends look out for me. 
 
 The mass was not long, and we were all soon in 
 the little square once more, having left before the 
 [13] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 close of the service, at the suggestion of a friend near 
 by. It is two years or more since I have seen the 
 Queen Mother; I admire her so much, and she was 
 so very lovely to «me when I was received by Her 
 Majesty in audience at her palace in Rome, that 
 my heart beat very fast indeed when she came 
 from the church. "Will she remember me?" I 
 thought. *'No, of course not; Her Majesty sees so 
 many people, and hears so much music, that she has 
 probably forgotten all about me and my voice." While 
 I was threatening myself with oblivion the Royal Lady 
 walked straight up to me and said, extending her hand, 
 "I am very pleased that you are in Italy once more," 
 in as perfect English as President Eliot himself could 
 speak. Then she greeted F. B., and we had a nice 
 talk in Italian together. Her Majesty spoke most 
 pleasantly of my voice; then asked me about the 
 book she has encouraged me to write, and seemed 
 very much interested that I had followed her advice 
 to describe the country life of her own dear land; 
 she also asked me about our trip here, and we com- 
 pared our journeys over the Petit Saint Bernard 
 Pass. She passed from me to a group of expectant 
 children, whom she greeted with that sweet affability 
 which has made her so beloved. She gave many of 
 the peasants her hand to kiss and inquired for their 
 families. She is especially adored by all in this Gres- 
 soney valley, and years ago she often wore the peasant 
 dress during her regular and long summer sojourns up 
 here in the mountains. 
 
 From one group of friends to another she laughed 
 and chatted, and smilingly told me to take as many 
 [14J 
 
w ^ 
 
 o ^ 
 
 < ^ 
 
 W ^ 
 
 CO a 
 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 kodaks as I liked of her; then, as she reached the last 
 group at the end of the little square, she walked on, 
 past the monument of King Umberto I, to her big 
 motor. I was just like a child and ran after, but 
 no more so than all the Italians, who did likewise, 
 though they see Her Majesty often. To-morrow is 
 Sunday, and the Queen said she would see me again 
 at the church, so I shall go to mass again. I looked 
 my picture-priests on the walls of my room quite 
 quietly in the eye this evening, as I have been doing 
 just what they would approve. After the Royal 
 departure, F. B. and I walked down the valley past 
 the villa of Baron Peccoz, which was occupied by the 
 Queen Mother the first few seasons that she came to 
 the valley. In the tiny square of the town is an 
 official sign, "Begging not allowed in this commu- 
 nity," which will give you a clew to the thrift of the 
 people up here. 
 
 This afternoon we went up to the Royal Castle 
 and took Del Grillo for a spin in the car up and down 
 the valley, with a stop for tea at the hotel at Gres- 
 soney La Trinite, which is two hundred forty metres 
 higher than where we were at Gressoney St.-Jean (1385 
 metres high). Although Gressoney La Trinite is only 
 a few kilometres beyond Gressoney St.-Jean, as long 
 ago as 1686 the one hundred sixty-seven inhabitants 
 insisted upon having their own church, though there 
 are only nine hundred forty-nine inhabitants in 
 Gressoney St.-Jean. Their quaint little place of wor- 
 ship dates from 15 15, and was built from plans by 
 Gay et dTssime. 
 
 This evening we had games for a little while, and 
 [15] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 suddenly everyone said, "Now for the procession!" 
 I did not know what was to happen, but Italians are 
 much more considerate of foreigners than most people, 
 and I knew I should be told. As I expected, Torlonia 
 said presently, "This is the Festa della Madonna 
 d' Agosto, and it is the custom for everyone up here to 
 get a Chinese lantern, hang it on the end of a curved 
 cane, and go all together to the castle of the Queen 
 Mother." It was rather cold, so I rushed to "our" 
 house, put on my sweater and military cape, ran over 
 with F. B. to the wee shop near by, to buy our canes 
 and lanterns, and off we started 'mid the shouts and 
 laughter of the children, who were allowed to sit up 
 that they might pay homage to the Queen Mother. 
 As the merry party struck off through the narrow 
 field paths, the use of the lanterns was very apparent, 
 though the night was fine and great bonfires were 
 lighted, one after another, high up on the mountains 
 on either side of the valley. Up we went — a merry 
 party — prince and peasant, priest and layman, chil- 
 dren and grown-ups; no fire-crackers, no Chinese 
 bombs; just Chinese lanterns and laughter. Those 
 that first reached the open courtyard in front of the 
 castle amiably waited for the lagging members; and 
 when the last stragglers were evidently all there, as if 
 by some magic, just at the right moment, Her Majesty, 
 followed by her suite, came out from what seemed a 
 brilliantly lighted fairy castle, and stepped upon the 
 terrace, bowing and smiling to her merry but respect- 
 ful subjects; for I think F. B. and I were the only 
 people in the whole assembly who were not Italians. 
 Presently the Sindaco (Mayor) made a short address, 
 [i61 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 expressing the love and reverence of the people of 
 the valley for the great Queen, who yearly honored 
 their country with her gracious presence; then an 
 elderly nobleman, Count P. of Turin, stepped forward 
 and made a short address in behalf of the summer 
 residents, expressing their devotion and love for Her 
 Majesty; and finally, the priest spoke in French, 
 expressing his gratitude for the Queen's never-flagging 
 interest in the welfare of the village, the church and 
 the clergy of the valley. 
 
 The language of the inhabitants of Gressoney is a 
 sort of German dialect, and is more like the High 
 German of the eleventh and the twelfth centuries 
 than the German of to-day, but as it is near Turin 
 and Switzerland there is also a great deal of French 
 in the everyday words used by the peasants; at least, 
 this is the explanation given me for the priest's not 
 speaking in Italian. 
 
 At the close of the last address Her Majesty stepped 
 to the edge of the terrace, and in a few well-chosen 
 phrases of Italian thanked us one and all for the ex- 
 pressions of devotion which, she said, deeply touched 
 and pleased her. Then we all trooped back through 
 the valley, and I came up here to write to you. 
 
 I have had a very interesting and enjoyable day, 
 arid am sure of a good sleep to-night in this wonderful 
 mountain air. So often at the mountains at home it 
 is damp, and the evenings not at all pleasant for out- 
 of-door doings, but up here it is very dry and clear, 
 though we look lovingly at the big "comforters" at 
 the foot of our beds. I am very sleepy and expect to 
 dream of bobbing lanterns, flashing fires melting the 
 [17] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 distant glaciers, and to see the Queen sailing into space 
 in her motor. Who knows! Her Majesty is so enter- 
 prising that she may sail off in one of Wright's aero- 
 planes ere many years have passed. 
 Good-night. More to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 Gressoney 
 My dearest M: 
 
 Yesterday morning we had a repetition of Saturday's 
 pleasure, when the Queen Mother came to mass with 
 her handsome nephew. His Royal Highness the Count 
 of Turin, who is here for a few days on a visit. After 
 the service Her Majesty spoke to me most graciously, 
 and asked me to come to the castle this afternoon, 
 where we have been, and where I have taken a num- 
 ber of photographs — a rare privilege, so the Marchesa 
 di Villamarina assured me. Del Grillo was just as 
 nice as he always is, and I do hope the pictures will 
 turn out worthy of this unusual favor from the Queen, 
 who gave me a most attractive picture of herself, in 
 her travelling motor. 
 
 The Castel Savoia is beautifully situated on one 
 of the foothills near the entrance to the valley, and 
 commands a beautiful view of Monte Rosa. Its con- 
 struction is entirely modern; though begun before the 
 tragic death of King Umberto, it has been completed 
 since, and is the residence of the Queen Mother during 
 July and August of every year. The dear Marchesa 
 showed us all about, and we greatly admired the stair- 
 case in the main hall for its particularly graceful lines. 
 The sun parlor of the Queen is evidently her favorite 
 [i8] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 room, for here were glue-pots, colored tissue papers, 
 and endless other things for paper-doll making, as Her 
 Majesty is already busy thinking of the poor children's 
 Christmas somewhere hereabout. From the windows 
 the Marchesa pointed to other buildings belonging to 
 the Royal domains: a suitable house for extra servants, 
 etc. In the cosy library were many of the best mod- 
 ern English books, as well as French and German, and 
 of course no one can excel the Queen's reading knowl- 
 edge of her own language. The castle is fitted with 
 steam heat, for it is often very cold here, even in 
 August. Her Majesty laid the corner-stone in 1899, 
 King Umberto being present, and each year more and 
 more people come up to this enchanted spot. In 1893 
 the Queen, with her suite, climbed to the elevation of 
 forty-five hundred sixty-one metres, and dedicated 
 an observatory called the Cabina Margherita, from 
 which valuable and interesting observations have been 
 made. Prince Torlonia tells us we shall find the 
 Duchess Visconti of Milan and her family, as well as 
 other friends, at Rimini, so perhaps we shall decide 
 to go there for a few days of the sea, after this 
 mountain air. 
 Best love. 
 
 T. 
 
 Gressoney 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning I went over to the other little hotel 
 
 here to see Madame Chantre from Bologna. She and 
 
 her mother-in-law are much interested in the Bologna 
 
 lace school for which Countess Cavazza has done so 
 
 [19] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 much. The work is perfectly lovely, and I have bought 
 some shirtwaists, pillows, and table covers, etc., which I 
 know you will admire. Countess Pozzo di Borgo has 
 some lovely things from her Pisa school here at our 
 hotel, and I have also been glad to have some of her 
 pretty wares. 
 
 She is one of the most charming Italians I have 
 met, a Sicilian with blue eyes and soft brown hair. 
 Her mother, the Princess of Belmonte, has a lovely 
 villa in Sicily near Palermo, and the Countess has asked 
 us to come and see her in her own summer home just 
 outside of Pisa later in the autumn. I surely hope 
 we may be able to go. Nearly all the high-class Sicil- 
 ians speak excellent English, and the Countess is no 
 exception. 
 
 After my lace purchases I had a nice walk up the 
 valley with Del Grillo, and I am indeed sorry that we 
 are to miss seeing his sweet sister. Donna Bianca, 
 whom the Queen Mother has invited to visit her. I 
 shall never forget the interesting afternoon I spent with 
 their famous mother, better known to the world as 
 Adelaide Ristori than by her married name of Mar- 
 chesa Capranica del Grillo. Queen Margherita was 
 very fond of the great Italian actress, and is devoted 
 to her children, the son being one of Her Majesty's 
 Gentlemen-of-honor. Del Grillo tried to persuade me 
 to stay longer, and both F. B. and I would really 
 have loved to, but we have been here several days, 
 and although we have been made to feel perfectly at 
 home, and have had the jolliest of times, if I am really 
 to make all the visits to my friends that I have planned, 
 I shall need five summers instead of five months; so 
 [20] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 to-morrow we shall go to Turin. Torlonia is coming 
 on there too, so we shall not feel lost in the hot city, 
 and to-day I had a note from Her Serene Highness 
 Princess Ratibor di Hohenlohe to come and see her 
 and her mother and sister at their lovely villa in the 
 suburbs. I liked the Princess extremely in- Rome last 
 year, and an occasional letter has told me I was not 
 forgotten. It will be so nice to see her again and to 
 meet her relatives! 
 
 [21] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Turin, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 OUR trip from Gressoney here was like an 
 echo of the great valley of Aosta. We 
 came back through the Gressoney valley 
 to Pont San Martino, through more inter- 
 esting, mediaeval-looking towns to Ivrea, where there 
 is a wonderful four-towered chateau; and at Quinci- 
 netto we saw the mossy ruins of the chateau of Ces- 
 nola, with its square tower and ruined chapel. It is 
 from this castle that Emmanuel Palma, a descendant 
 of a Spanish family that had established itself in the 
 valley in the thirteenth century, was given the title, 
 in 1789, of Count of Cesnola. To us this was very 
 interesting, for Alessandro Cesnola is such a good 
 friend of ours. All America knows the name of Ces- 
 nola, from the celebrated collection of Cyprus antiq- 
 uities discovered by the uncle of our friend while 
 United States Consul on the island. He made the 
 magnificent gift of these treasures to the Metropol- 
 itan Art Museum of New York, of which he had for 
 years been the director. At the time of its presenta- 
 tion, and for some years after, there was bitter criti- 
 cism and discussion as to the value and merits of the 
 Cesnola collection, but it has been established by the 
 greatest experts that it is the finest collection of its 
 kind in the world. America feels deep gratitude to 
 the brave Italian who made America his home, his 
 country and his heir. We hope very much to find 
 [22I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Alessandro at home when we get to Florence, where he 
 lives, and I am anticipating seeing some of the rare 
 antiquities of his father, who officially accompanied 
 his brother as vice-consul to Cyprus. 
 
 T. 
 
 Turin, August. 
 My dearest M: 
 
 This morning we took "Antonio" over to the 
 FIAT factories, where he was manufactured, and 
 Signor Marchesi, the general manager, has shown us 
 all over this great establishment, which is really won- 
 derful and most interesting. I am only an amateur 
 machinist, but I was surprised to see "Springfield, 
 Ohio" on hundreds of great machines, which were 
 preparing some part of the mechanism that makes 
 the automobile the success it is to-day. 
 
 Over two million dollars' worth of American ma- 
 chines are kept busy in the factories of the Fabbrica 
 Italiana Automobili Torino. "Ah, but the one thing I 
 fear," said Signor Marchesi, in substance, "is that the 
 Americans will solve all the difficulties of automobile 
 construction with the invention of some marvellous 
 new machine, as they have with many other manu- 
 factures, and then automobiles will be made in the 
 American way, a thousand a minute: as you cut your 
 wheat and eat your bread from it in the space of a 
 few moments, by the use of your marvellous farming 
 machines; or turn out thousands of pairs of shoes in a 
 day, in some of your great Western shoe factories. 
 America is grandiose; your buildings are high beyond 
 the belief of any but those who see them, your for- 
 [23] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tunes are colossal beyond the dreams of even the 
 European idealist, but I am not so sure about your 
 sentiment. Will a workman stay overtime because 
 his piece of work might be better finished? I doubt 
 it. Does he really care for his work at all, except 
 for the wage it brings him.? I am inclined to think 
 not. In that sentiment, that real interest in per- 
 fection of workmanship for the joy of doing a thing 
 well, lies the reason of our success to-day, and of our 
 hope for to-morrow. The automobile is like a fine 
 watch. The parts must not only be finely made, 
 but exactly assembled, and the European workman 
 loves his work enough to give that rare exactitude 
 which makes the Swiss watches world-famous and 
 the Italian automobile successful and pre-eminent in 
 all tests. That the same work could be done in 
 America is not doubted. But perfection means ex- 
 actitude, and exactitude takes more time, and more 
 time takes more money. 'Well enough,' is suflficient, 
 but exactitude too expensive. As long as some won- 
 derful machine is not invented for doing the finishing 
 touches, as long as there remains one jot of sentiment, 
 one bit of love of the workman for his work, we in old 
 Europe are safe in many things; but America is so 
 wonderful that we always expect new mechanical 
 devices which will, as usual, break all records — like 
 your sewing machine, which darns the housewife's 
 stockings and buttonholes her gloves." 
 
 The automobile industry has quite aroused the 
 aristocratic and formerly rather quiet city of Turin, 
 and we rode round to see the great Itala and Spa 
 Automobile Works as well. 
 
 [24] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 This afternoon Princess Ratibor telephoned to 
 know if we should be at home, and came in to tea 
 with us. She gave me a most affectionate greeting, 
 and one of those sweet, gentle cheek kisses which 
 the continental woman of station bestows upon 
 the few of her friends who have a place near 
 her heart. The French "Ses levres effleuraient ma 
 joue" is not to be put into our bald Anglo-Saxon 
 tongue. Usually at this time Princess Ernestina goes 
 travelling with her mother and sister, but it is our good 
 luck to find them here, and we are going out to see 
 them to-morrow. 
 
 Torlonia dined with us to-night, and is off for Rome 
 by train at midnight to attend to some important 
 business. The Italians rush about in Europe very 
 much as we do in America, and in much the same 
 matter-of-fact, easy way. Torlonia has estates all 
 over Italy, and consequently has much to do to attend 
 to his property. Ten million dollars' worth of landed 
 investment means a great care for somebody most of 
 the time, I should suppose; but of course the Prince 
 has his various agents in different directions, for his 
 fortune is one of the largest in Italy. 
 
 After dinner we went over to the little summer 
 theatre, which is built up for the summer months 
 at one side of the public square. I was much sur- 
 prised to find several American and English names 
 among the different vaudeville artists, but I am told 
 that almost all the acrobatic features, and indeed 
 many of the musical "stunts," are done by American 
 troupes. 
 
 T. 
 [25] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Turin, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 Although the weather is quite hot, we passed a 
 dehghtful day with Princess Ratibor at her beautiful 
 and historic villa, which was built by the treasurer of 
 Amadaeus II about 1650, and is a fine example of the 
 seventeenth century Italian villa. This duke of the 
 House of Savoy boldly allied himself with Austria 
 during the War of the Spanish Succession, and in 1703 
 managed to throw off the French suzerainty. He 
 obtained Sicily as his reward, which island, however, 
 he was obliged afterward to exchange for Sardinia 
 (1720); but in 1713 he assumed the title of king, sub- 
 sequently coupled with the name of the Sardinian 
 Island. The general organization of the kingdom was 
 modelled on Prussia, where the military and feudal 
 element predominated, but both were obliged to suc- 
 cumb to the new elements and powers evolved by 
 the French Revolution. The king's treasurer had 
 exquisite taste, for the villa is charming, and is still 
 called, from the title of its builder. La Tesoriera; 
 its architecture is pure and simple, the inevitable 
 Italian "three" being carried out in the general con- 
 struction. 
 
 The Princess' sister Margherita is a great expert 
 in photography, and has given me most generously 
 of her collection of photographs, but she was also 
 kind enough to want me to take a few that she had 
 not tried. Princess Ernestina was very kind and took 
 me over the whole villa, helping me take my pictures 
 in the various suites. The Princess' bedroom is done 
 I26I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 in her favorite apricot color, and most of the beautiful 
 embroideries were worked with her own hands. A 
 very elegant and thoroughly modern bathroom lead- 
 ing from the bedroom made it quite apparent that 
 comfort was quite as complete as the furnishings were 
 elegant. In the linen room the ornamentation, as 
 well as the embroidery, was the handiwork of the 
 Princess and her sister. The whole villa is most 
 elaborately decorated, and each member of the family 
 has her own suite. The dark-room of the Countess 
 Margherita, I am sure, would make any photographer 
 envious, so complete and convenient are all its ap- 
 pointments. In the corridor leading from one wing 
 of the villa to the main building were hung some 
 interesting engravings of Paris as it looked a great 
 many years ago. 
 
 The family of the Princess Arborio Gattinara is of 
 very ancient nobility, and traces its origin back cer- 
 tainly as far as the year looo, and perhaps even earlier; 
 but in that year there was a famous bishop at Ivrea, 
 who was afterward canonized a saint. The family 
 records tell of soldiers, diplomats, two archbishops of 
 Turin, and the great Cardinal Mercurino Arborio di 
 Gattinara, who was the Grand Chancellor of the Em- 
 peror Charles V, and had an important part in all the 
 great events of this period. It was at this time that 
 the Emperor conferred the title of Duke of Sartirana, 
 together with the lands which bear the name. The 
 Duke Ferdinand di Sartirana, the Princess' grand- 
 father, was Prefect of the Palace of His Majesty 
 King Victor Emmanuel II, and her father, the Duke 
 Alfonso, under a united Italy was able to devote his 
 [27] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 principal attention to the improvement of his lands, 
 and the amehoration of the condition of the poor. 
 The Princess' grandmother was a princess of Cis- 
 terna, an own cousin to the mother of the Duke of 
 the Abruzzi. The mother of the Princess belonged to 
 the distinguished Lombard family of the Marchesi 
 Rescalli di Villacortese. The Duchess attended Her 
 Majesty Queen Margherita on her wedding day, and 
 has been one of her beloved Ladies-in-waiting ever 
 since. In one of the drawing-rooms we greatly ad- 
 mired a portrait of the Princess' grandmother, who 
 must have been a very beautiful woman; the Princess 
 greatly resembles this portrait and is a handsome 
 woman herself. She is a widow; her husband, who 
 was a prince of the family of Hohenlohe Schillingsfiirst, 
 had also the title of Ratibor et Corvey by an heritage 
 of the Margraf of Hesse-Rothemburg, who married a 
 princess of Hohenlohe Schillingsfiirst. It is a very 
 ancient and illustrious family of Franconia, formerly 
 the reigning house, but which retains the right to the 
 title of ** Serene Highness" and the right to bear the 
 decoration of the family of Hohenlohe. The Prince 
 died in 1891, and the Princess spends most of her time 
 with her mother and sisters in Italy. 
 
 The Duchess has an interesting old castle in Sar- 
 tirana from which the family take their title, and where 
 they generally spend the autumn months, and over- 
 look the cultivation of their extensive rice plantations. 
 The Princess also has a villa in Rome, which, while 
 not so large as her palaces in Piedmont and Germany, 
 is still very elegant and most comfortable. 
 
 The Italians are far more wideawake to modern 
 [28] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 improvements than many other European nations, 
 it seems to me. All the American "save trouble" 
 devices they hail with acclamation, and at once 
 apply them to their own use. At first they buy 
 direct from us, and there are many American agencies 
 for our new American inventions regarding plumbing, 
 electricity, etc., in most of the larger Italian cities; 
 but, like the Japanese, the Italians buy and use our 
 apparatus until they completely understand its work- 
 ings, and then they manufacture for themselves, with 
 alterations adapted to the construction of their houses 
 and their own peculiar needs. Very often, I think, 
 they "go us one better." One feature that makes the 
 life of the mistress of a great establishment far easier 
 than with us is the devotion, trustworthiness, and real 
 ability of the Italian servants. Of course, I realize 
 that I have seen only the sunny side of the house- 
 holds of my friends, but when a servant is in a family 
 forty years, and has been born while his father was in 
 the same family's service, it speaks well for the family 
 and the man. As we were strolling through the beau- 
 tiful natural park that surrounds the villa, the butler 
 respectfully came to ask when Her Highness desired 
 tea, and as he backed away from us. Princess Ernestina 
 told me of his long devotion and that of his father to 
 her family. This is, perhaps, an unusual case, but I 
 am assured that it is not at all uncommon for servants 
 to stay twenty and thirty years in one family. The 
 fact that they marry does not seem in any way to 
 interfere with the service of either the men or women, 
 as it so often does with us, and the servants naturally 
 have the greatest pride and interest in their master's 
 [29] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 or mistress' welfare. They grow up with people of 
 elegant bearing and refined manners as examples con- 
 stantly before them, and it becomes unconsciously 
 natural for them to be polite and respectful. They 
 really do respect their masters, and with reason; for 
 while the Italians exact the most perfect personal 
 service from their domestics, they are considerate of 
 them, their health and happiness in every way possible. 
 
 Perhaps this is another reason why Italian chil- 
 dren are such perfect little models of good breeding. 
 Even in their romps with each other they are not 
 unmindful of each other's comfort or displeasure, but 
 they see about them only examples of kindness to 
 others, which must have a great effect on their char- 
 acters. Dear grandmother Tryphosa's dictum, "Good 
 manners is to do and say the kindest thing in the 
 kindest way," applies to almost every Italian of our 
 own class that I have ever met, and I assure you they 
 are delightful people to be with. Let us hope that 
 modern egotism, which results in the hopeless behavior 
 of some young people to-day, will never find its way 
 into the elegant, graceful salons of this lovely land. 
 
 I think grandmamma's time was much nicer than 
 ours in America, an5rway, and certainly some of our 
 young people have sadly wandered from the straight 
 and narrow paths of our dear, polite Puritan ances- 
 tors, who were gentle and kindly, not rude and bois- 
 terous. To have a distinguished name is all very fine, 
 provided one lives up to one's ancestry, but to simply 
 lie back upon what your people have done before you, 
 seems to prove that the bearers of that name are worse 
 off than those who are accomplishing things now, and 
 [30I 
 
ENTRANCE HALL AT THE VILLA TESORIERA OF 
 
 H. S. H. PRINCESS RATIBOR DE 
 
 HOHENLOHE, NEAR TURIN 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 making themselves worthy ancestors of generations to 
 come. This is very striking in Italy; for example, 
 this charming family, that has been endowed for gen- 
 erations with brains, beauty and wealth, is still keeping 
 quite up to its standard of excellence. 
 
 Another feature of the old-world life that comes as 
 a grateful rest to a "hustling American " is the sense 
 of repose and the realization of the great difference 
 between leisure and its benefits, and laziness and its 
 unfortunate results. There is almost as much differ- 
 ence between leisure and laziness as between liberty 
 and license ; the two former are often mistaken for the 
 latter by unthinking people. There are many to-day 
 "who don't have to do anything " who don't wish 
 to do anything, and spend their time in unprofitable 
 idleness, while people of the same means in Europe, 
 especially in Italy, spend their leisure in perfecting 
 some talent or accomplishment which people of small 
 means cannot afford from want of both time and money; 
 and I assure you that the society of leisurely people 
 who are cultured is much more agreeable than the 
 society of those whose laziness has allowed no culture. 
 
 Nor are the men of the upper classes behind. All 
 of them must serve one year, at least, in the army, 
 where they learn discipline and something of military 
 service. Their pride and mental excellence usually 
 makes them officers after a time, and if they do not 
 pursue the military career, they are obliged to keep up 
 their military standing as officers in the reserve. Once 
 their military duties accomplished, they become scien- 
 tists, writers, politicians, and even excellent business 
 men, though they do not go to the other extreme of 
 [31] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tense energy, which destroys all leisure as well as the 
 ability for its enjoyment. 
 
 As we strolled about the park we came upon a 
 sort of room formed by graceful trees, where there 
 was a large table surrounded by bright cushioned 
 chairs, and here the Princess and her sister do much of 
 their, reading, for the upper-class Italian woman is 
 generally well read in several languages. The Princess 
 and her mother and sister all spoke excellent English 
 with F. B., and I think Princess Ernestina speaks quite 
 the best of any foreigner I have ever met, although 
 she has never been in England. Their governesses as 
 young people were English, and there is no apparent 
 effort in their conversation, though they always talk 
 Italian with me. A break in the trees showed an 
 attractive vista of the villa, and the daily paper on 
 the table spoke of interest in current events. Then 
 we followed a circular path, which seems to be a fea- 
 ture of these Italian gardens, back to the villa, where 
 the Duchess and her niece, the Countess Balbis di 
 Sambuy, were waiting for us in the most fascinating 
 conservatory with little marble Venuses and Cupids 
 peeping at us from behind rare ferns and exotic plants. 
 The Countess is a sister-in-law of the daughter of 
 Countess Gianotti, of whom I have told you so much 
 in my letters from Rome, and she is also a Lady-in- 
 waiting to Her Imperial Royal Highness the Princess 
 Letitia, Duchess of Aosta. 
 
 I wish I could send you half of the pictures that I 
 
 have of this beautiful villa, that you might see how 
 
 lovely are the frescoes, decorations, tapestries, as well 
 
 as the general comfort of this Italian summer home, for 
 
 [32] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 here is the rare combination of fine gobehns and world- 
 renowned works of art with electric bells and all 
 modern conveniences. The tea was excellent, and the 
 numerous fancy breads, sponge-drops, and sweetly- 
 frosted dainties reminded me of England. But every 
 "five o'clock" takes on its national color, and presently 
 we were given the most delicious, tiny melons, and 
 also the dainty water ice, known in its commonplace 
 form as "granita." This was much nicer than any 
 other water ice I have ever tasted, and I thoroughly 
 enjoyed our little repast. So real and genial, and yet 
 so complete was our hospitality that I felt as if I had 
 visited our dear friends for a long time, but a glance 
 at my wrist-watch told me it was high time to be 
 going back to town, and as the Countess Balbis was 
 also returning to Turin we were glad to have her go 
 with us in the car. 
 
 The Princess and her mother and sister came out 
 to inspect "Antonio," and made us promise to return 
 in October after they come back from their travels 
 in France. They were much interested in my pic- 
 tures of the Lake of Annecy and my description of 
 its beauties. "The little hotel is rather primitive," 
 I explained, "though you have wholesome food and 
 the glories of Nature as compensations." "If all is 
 clean, I can do quite well with a small room, a bed, 
 and chair, especially if Nature around about is beauti- 
 ful," said the Princess, which tells you more than any- 
 thing I can write of the sweet grace of her character. 
 
 After leaving Countess Balbis at her home, we went 
 through the pretty public park to the hotel. In 1884, 
 at the Exposition in Turin, a fine example of a mediaeval 
 [33] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 castle with its surrounding dependencies was built by 
 the border of the river, and greatly adds to the pic- 
 turesqueness of the garden, so much enjoyed by the 
 people. The castle is now used as a museum. 
 
 Of a sudden a victoria passed in which I noticed a 
 handsome elderly gentleman. He drove rapidly by, 
 but I thought it was Count Gianotti, and as Vincenzo 
 increased our leisurely park speed I soon proved my- 
 self correct, and bowed to the distinguished general. 
 With the courtliness for which he is famous, he left 
 his carriage and came to the car to give me the most 
 cordial greeting. By an unfortunate delay in the 
 mail I just missed seeing Countess Gianotti in Geneva, 
 though we were both in the same city, and each hurry- 
 ing a letter to the other to the supposedly correct 
 address. 
 
 General Gianotti is Grand Master of Ceremonies 
 at the court of Victor Emmanuel III, and his wife, 
 of whom I am so fond, was Miss Franklin-Kinney of 
 Baltimore, and is one of the many examples of the 
 happiness of the Italian-American marriages. The 
 General saved the life of King Umberto in the terrible 
 battle of Custoza in 1866, and his only reply to my 
 gasp of admiration of the famous picture of the battle 
 in his palace in Rome was, "I only did my duty as a 
 soldier." 
 
 I hoped to learn from the Count that the Countess 
 had returned with her daughter to their beautiful 
 villa near here, to which we had been invited to come, 
 but they are staying later than usual in Switzerland 
 this season, to await the completion of some improve- 
 ments and repairs to their summer home. The family 
 [34] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of Balbis di Sambuy is also one of Piedmont's proudest 
 names, and the father of the present count was one 
 of the stanch defenders of his country's interests. 
 I have heard Countess Gianotti say, "I married a 
 Piedmontese, rather than an Itahan." In spite of all 
 the wars and strifes occasioned by invaders into the 
 peninsula of Italy, Piedmont has succumbed to none 
 but Napoleon I; so its sons may rightly be proud of 
 their birthland. 
 
 To-morrow morning we are going up to the great 
 Superga, and by special permission, to the palace of 
 Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Genoa, mother of 
 Her Majesty Queen Margherita. 
 
 Good-night. Much love to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 Turin, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning we have been to the imposing royal 
 burial church that is situated conspicuously on a very 
 high hill on the east side of the city, and before going 
 into the church we stopped for some time in the 
 broad, open place surrounding the great edifice to 
 enjoy the beautiful view of the valley of the Po, 
 the high hills about Turin called the Colli Torinesi; 
 while beyond rise the Apennines, and still beyond, 
 in mighty grandeur, the Alps in snowy splendor. 
 The Superga is a handsome building in the style 
 of an antique temple, and was built by Victor Ama- 
 daeus II on the occasion of the raising of the siege and 
 driving of the French from Turin. In the royal apart- 
 ments adjoining the church is a painting of the unsus- 
 [35] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 pecting French officers surprised by a trick of the 
 Piedmontese, while dancing merrily at a ball (1706). 
 The lofty dome can be seen from very far away, and 
 the tombs of the various members of the House of 
 Savoy were impressive and elegant; in the crypt are 
 monuments of the kings from Victor Amadaeus II to 
 that of the unhappy but brave Charles Albert and 
 Queen Marie Adelaide, the Austrian wife of Victor 
 Emmanuel II. One room is devoted to portraits of 
 all the popes, and I looked for the head of Julius II, 
 the warrior pope, who always greatly interests me. 
 
 We came down from this impressive mausoleum to 
 the quiet palace of Her Royal Highness the Duchess 
 of Genoa, who was the daughter of the late King of 
 Saxony; and I always think that much of Queen 
 Margherita's intellectual thoroughness (griindlichkeit) 
 comes from her German inheritance, for the elderly 
 Duchess is one of Europe's most distinguished women. 
 She lives in Turin only in the winter, having a lovely 
 villa in Stresa on Lago Maggiore, where her Royal 
 daughter visits her every year in the early autumn, 
 and the mother, in her turn, goes down to Rome in 
 the spring for a bit of the southern warmth and sun- 
 shine. Though she is far away from youth the Duchess 
 is still a handsome woman, with her silvery white hair 
 and dignified bearing. In the royal bedroom I noticed 
 the following expression of regard from her devoted 
 subjects at Stresa: 
 
 [36] 
 
PRINCE GIOVANNI TORLONIA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 A Elisabetta di Sassonia Duchessa di Geneva 
 compiendosi il decimo lustro della Sua venuta 
 in Stresa della costante affettuosa benevolenza 
 della carita munifica memore e grata la 
 popolazione. Octobre, 1907," 
 
 " To Elizabeth of Saxony, Duchess of Genoa, 
 completing the tenth year of her sojourn in 
 Stresa, this souvenir of a grateful populace is 
 presented, in appreciation of her constant and 
 munificent charity. October, 1907-" 
 
 We were also shown the suite of the young Duke 
 and Duchess of Genoa, formerly occupied by Queen 
 Margherita's father and mother, and I was much 
 interested to see the bed in which Italy's first Queen 
 was born in 1858. We have been informed that we 
 are welcome to go to Aglie, the summer palace of the 
 Duke of Genoa in the town of that name, and while 
 we are much gratified we have asked permission to go 
 instead in October, when we expect to return to Turin, 
 as it is really too hot to stay longer in the city; so this 
 afternoon we shall start on the way to the sea. 
 
 Much love. More anon. 
 
 T. 
 
 [37 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 PlACENZA, August 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 HERE we are at Piacenza, part way over the 
 famous Via ^Emilia, the great straight 
 highway from here to the sea, laid out by 
 and named for Marcus ^mih'us Lepidus, 
 the Roman Consul in 187 B.C. On our way we passed 
 the square Royal Palace of Moncalieri in the town 
 of the same name, and here it is that Princess Clotilde, 
 widow of Prince Jerome Bonaparte, spends many 
 months of the year, and with her in the autumn the 
 Duchess Letitia often comes to stay. 
 
 Near by is the villa of Baron Mayor des Planches, 
 the Italian Ambassador at Washington, who so kindly 
 arranged for us customs courtesies for Italy, and has 
 entertained us so delightfully at the embassy in Wash- 
 ington. He and the Baroness had promised to show 
 us all about this lovely country of theirs, but for 
 diplomatic reasons, and unfortunately for us, he can- 
 not return to his home this year. The Baroness is 
 French, and her grace and tact have made her one 
 of the most popular and admired of Washington's 
 hostesses. I am disappointed not to have had our 
 long- anticipated "good time" with them here in 
 Piedmont. 
 
 From Moncalieri we went on through Asti, the town 
 
 from which the sparkling and delicious wine "Asti 
 
 spumante" takes its name. There is nothing like a 
 
 motor car to really see a country; for instead of a 
 
 [38] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 series of similarly plain and dusty railway stations in 
 the towns, each of which, in Italy, has its own interest- 
 ing history, we enter at one gate, armed with guide- 
 books, and ply the kindly inhabitants with questions 
 as to the sights of their towns (incidentally, the way 
 out, as well), so that, before we leave the other gate of 
 the little city and go upon our merry way, we have 
 verified dear old Baedeker, talked with the people, 
 bought some postals of an old peasant woman, and 
 learned much for our own benefit. The celebrated 
 poet, Alfieri, was born in this town in 1749, and we 
 passed his house and saw the monument erected to 
 his memory in the public square. There are also 
 remains of a Christian basilica, recently made acces- 
 sible, but we were desirous of reaching here to-night, 
 so hurried on. 
 
 After I have been in Italy a little while I become 
 somewhat dulled by all the many wonders, and from 
 an ever-increasing sense of the hopelessness of ever 
 seeing anywhere near everything there is to see of 
 interest in this most marvellous country; my happiness 
 is far greater now that I have made up my mind to 
 enjoy all that it is possible for me to see; and I satisfy 
 myself with the certain knowledge that no one life, 
 however Americanly energetic and assiduous, can ever 
 do full justice to all that is interesting and beautiful 
 here in Italy. 
 
 The road from Alessandria was dusty beyond the 
 description of words, and to heighten our discomfort 
 from the clouds of fine sand that rolled in upon us, 
 came like hurricanes and whirlwinds the three Itala 
 racing-cars from Turin, hurrying on to Bologna in 
 [39] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 order to try the course and learn its difficulties before 
 the great race next month. It was quite dark when 
 we reached this quaint, mediaeval-looking town, but I 
 made up my mind to smile, however forbidding the 
 Albergo San Marco (recommended by the Touring 
 Club book) seemed to be. We twisted and turned in 
 the dimly lighted streets, hedged in on both sides by 
 high, sinister-looking palaces. To our surprise, at the 
 end of one of these very streets we stopped before a 
 brilliantly lighted doorway and an affable, blue-eyed 
 Italian landlord greeted us, first in French, and then, 
 spying "Boston" on our trunks, hastened to be glad 
 to see us in English. We were hot, dusty and tired, 
 and you can easily imagine that a large cool, parlor, 
 with bedroom and perfectly equipped bathroom adjoin- 
 ing, came as a delightful surprise and relief to our 
 wearied selves. It was long past the time of the table 
 d'hote, but an amiable waiter quickly brought us 
 chops, macaroni, and excellent ices, which made us 
 feel friendly toward all the world, and forget those 
 horrid, tooting, dusty, rushing racing-cars, which nearly 
 buried us in dirt a short while before. 
 
 We are going to stay over to-morrow, as it is so 
 "comfy" in the hotel, and there is so much that I 
 want to see in this historic old place. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 T. 
 
 PlACENZA, August 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 We understand quite well now why the streets are 
 so narrow, for although it is really very hot to-day, 
 [40I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 we are perfectly cool in this great stone hotel, which 
 is shut off from the sun by another stone building oppo- 
 site; both formerly palaces, with a street only a few 
 feet wide between them. 
 
 Last evening F. B. went out to the exposition that 
 is being held on the outskirts of the town, and the 
 people here are looking forward to the dedication of 
 the fine new bridge, when His Majesty the King is 
 coming. The town is awakening to something of its 
 old importance under the stimulus of United' Italy; 
 and the really elegant bridge over the Po, which sup- 
 plants the quaint pontoon of boats, is a substantial 
 proof of its recent progress. Toward evening I strolled 
 out into the square to see the pompous brown statues 
 of the Dukes Alessandro and Ranuccio Farnese, with 
 the altogether splendid background of the Palazzo 
 Comunale (1281 a.d.), with its spacious marble arcade 
 and round arched terra cotta windows. Raphael 
 painted his famous Sistine Madonna, now at Dresden, 
 for the ancient church of San Sisto here, but the 
 painting was bought in 1753 by Augustus III, King 
 of Poland and Elector of Saxony, for twenty thousand 
 ducats, and a copy takes its place. Near here is the 
 college Alberoni, founded by, and named for, the famous 
 cardinal who for many years was the all-powerful 
 Minister of Philip V of Spain, and a native of this 
 town. By the terms of the cardinal's gift sixty poor 
 youths enjoy free education. Here Alberoni spent his 
 last years after his fall from power, dying in 1752. 
 
 There are some good pictures by Sandro Botticelli, 
 Antonello da Messina, etc., in the Museo Civico, and 
 I dare say many other things we have not seen. 
 [41] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 We have come all this way without having to stop 
 one minute even for "Antonio" to catch his breath, 
 and I am beginning to think he is in some way- 
 enchanted, though I almost wish I had not written you 
 of this, for probably now our woes will begin. Please 
 tell all the people at home before I have time to change 
 my mind that there is nothing like a *'Fiat." 
 
 Good-night. More to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 [42] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 iEMiLiA, Bologna, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 DO you remember our last visit here, and how 
 we sat in solemn silence in the gray old 
 rooms of this hotel, trying to decide the 
 direction of the rest of our trip on that 
 dreadfully rainy day? Well, our visit this time is to 
 be only overnight, as we go on to Rimini in the morn- 
 ing. We left Piacenza bright and early this morning, 
 and had a most interesting visit to the wonderful 
 Correggio city of Parma. Nowadays everyone calls 
 the great artists by their own names, and not by the 
 towns from which they came. I suppose this is really 
 more sensible, but it is not a little confusing to change 
 so much of one's artistic vocabulary, and to remem- 
 ber that Antonio Allegri was from Correggio, a small 
 town quite near here; that Giovanni Antonio Bazzi 
 (1477-1549) was called II Sodoma; that Perugino was 
 really Pietro Vannucci from Perugia (1446-1524), and 
 so forth. The Allegri frescoes of the octagonal dome of 
 the cathedral here at Parma are unfortunately much 
 damaged by the dampness, but they are still beautiful, 
 and the portrayal of constant motion is very interest- 
 ing. It is easy to understand the oft-quoted remark, 
 *'Have Correggio's angels yet flown through the 
 vaults?" 
 
 I heard someone discussing the returning vogue of 
 one of the old masters the other day, and could hardly 
 suppress a smile. As if a really fine work of art could 
 [43] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 have anything to do with paltry fashion! It is bad 
 enough to have to alter our sleeves and bodices with 
 every changing wind, without having to alter our 
 ideals and love for the great masterpieces. 
 
 The cathedral at Parma is rather dreary from the 
 outside, but the baptistery is a curious, Lombard- 
 Romanesque building, built of Veronese marble in 
 1 196. There are five stories, and the exterior is deco- 
 rated with colonnades and medallions representing vari- 
 ous animals, while at the great stone font in the 
 centre of the interior the whole population of Parma 
 has been baptized from 12 16 to the present day; at 
 least so one of the natives assured us. This sixteen- 
 sided interior is ornamented with thirteenth century 
 statues representing the months, but no one part of 
 the decoration has been completed, and the building 
 gives one the impression of a ruin. 
 
 The theatre here was built by Marie Louise of 
 Austria, who came here to live with her second hus- 
 band, General Niepperg, the successor of the illustrious 
 Napoleon. Napoleon's plea that he was forced to 
 war, that he was naturally a man of peace, becomes 
 more easy to believe when one studies the detailed 
 history of Italy. 
 
 How many cities of Italy, when left alone even for 
 a short period, gathered strength and courage, and 
 soon importance, only to be battled for by other in- 
 truders from outside whose interest was to take away 
 what they coveted, regardless of the disasters left 
 behind! Like Piacenza, Parma was tossed about, a 
 precious plaything, from one power to another and 
 from one feudal lord to his enemy. Mark Antony 
 [44] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 plundered it because it had been the innocent birth- 
 place of Cassius, and in the later centuries Charles 
 the Bourbon of Spain, on ascending the throne of 
 Naples, carried away many of Parma's precious treas- 
 ures of art. Under Napoleon's law-and-order-making 
 advance into Italy, Parma caught its breath some- 
 what, but soon was turned over to Austrian rule, 
 though later Marie Louise and her son fled. Nothing 
 could crush its spirit for liberty, and when driven to 
 extremities of suffering, Charles III was assassinated 
 in the open street. 
 
 Alas, I knew it! No sooner had the letter gone 
 to you, telling of "Antonio's" magical behavior, when 
 away blew a tire, and our first delay of half an hour 
 seemed an eternity. We were hardly on our way 
 again when an air chamber blew out, and another 
 wait made us feel that from perfection "Antonio" was 
 now to turn to failure. The break came in a part of 
 the road that seemed far from any house, but we had 
 not stopped longer than five minutes when we could 
 see coming toward us from both directions on the 
 road and across the fields small boys and girls, running 
 in twos and threes, and we presently found ourselves 
 surrounded by a score or more of little gamins, bare- 
 footed and ragged, the boys eating bunches of grapes, 
 and nearly all the girls knitting, quite mechanically, 
 at the eternal stocking that never seems to be finished. 
 The yells of "Buona fortuna" (good luck) that fol- 
 lowed the departure of the car possibly explains our 
 reaching here safely and with no further delays. After 
 all, I suppose we must expect tires to give out now 
 and then. 
 
 [45] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 I was just leaving the courtyard to go to my room, 
 when I heard someone behind me call, "Madame 
 Batcheller, how are you?'' and, turning, found Tor- 
 Ionia, who had rushed on here at top speed from Turin. 
 His car is a seventy horse-power Mercedes, and he 
 drives very fast. We all had dinner together, and 
 have arranged to go on to Rimini to-morrow; that is, 
 we shall go first in our leisurely way, and the Prince 
 will come whizzing after. We lunch at Faenza, known 
 to you and me from pottery fame. 
 
 Good-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 [46] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Le Marche Romagna, Rimini, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 TORLONIA proved our good angel yester- 
 day, for another tire went soon after 
 leaving Bologna; but the Prince spied us 
 from afar, and stopped to let his chauffeur 
 help Vincenzo make the necessary change, and we 
 were soon eating "cotoletta di vitello" and excellent 
 macaroni at Torlonia's invitation in Faenza. As we 
 sat in true Italian style in the street in front of a wee 
 "cafe-ristorante," Torlonia pointed out the Borghese 
 dragons on the fine fountain in the main square of 
 the town, remarking that his ancestor, Pope Paul V, 
 *'must have passed that way some day." If one knows 
 the coats-of-arms of the great families, Italy is far 
 more interesting, for wherever these great men went 
 they seem to have imprinted their arms on stone or 
 bronze to mark their path, instead of pebbles like the 
 children in the story-book. 
 
 The exposition of Faenza pottery that is being 
 held here marks the successful revival of the making 
 of the once famous wares that you and I greatly 
 admire. People are coming from all the neighboring 
 towns and cities to admire the vases and reproduc- 
 tions of the old forms, and there are reduced railway 
 rates as well as excursions arranged from long dis- 
 tances; at least, so the flamboyant wall posters tell us. 
 There seems to be in Italy a great industrial giant 
 who has, for the first time in centuries, been allowed 
 [47] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 his proper portion of rest, and now that his wounds 
 are healed, his tormentors driven out, and his body 
 rested, he seems to be stretching himself and slowly 
 awakening to his glorious and almost immeasurable 
 possibilities. I sincerely hope that Italy and her 
 statesmen will strive to maintain the peace that, even 
 in so few years, has brought about already such mar- 
 vellous results. 
 
 Of course Torlonia reached here before us, so 
 kindly bespoke for us nice rooms overlooking the sea, 
 for the hotel is situated right on the beach, quite a 
 little distance from the historic town of Francesca's 
 misfortunes. 
 
 To my delight the first person I met in the large 
 open hall of the hotel was the Duchess Visconti, who 
 gave me the nicest welcome and seemed really delighted 
 to see me. It is four years since we have met, for she 
 was not in Rome the last time I was there; but she 
 greeted me as affectionately and seemed as genially 
 cordial as if we had parted yesterday. After dinner 
 to-night she presented her husband, the Duke, to me 
 and to F. B., and then introduced all the ladies of the 
 circle, where she asked me to come and sit. As at 
 Gressoney, I was at once made to feel perfectly at 
 home. Both Marianna and her husband speak excel- 
 lent English, and the Duke's brother is a graduate of 
 Oxford, so that his blue eyes and flaxen hair, combined 
 with all the small ways of the Englishman, make it 
 hard to believe that he is not a handsome Anglo- 
 Saxon. The Italians keep late hours, and after talk- 
 ing for some time and learning from these pleasant 
 friends a great deal about the interesting things to 
 [48] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 see here, F. B. and I went with the others to a wee 
 cinematograph theatre, which was quite amusing; but 
 after that, being quite tired, I came up here to write, 
 while the others went on to the Casino to begin the 
 evening again, and enjoy cards for some hours yet, 
 I suppose. 
 
 Rimini, August 
 My dear M: 
 
 This is my first experience of an Itahan seaside 
 resort, and so far I hke it immensely, though the sea 
 and I are never the best of friends; however, here there 
 is no fog nor any dampness whatever. 
 
 This afternoon the Duchess Marianna had a party 
 for her five lovely children, and the beach was gay 
 with merry games and laughter for two hours or more 
 after the sun had ceased to burn. The Duchess was a 
 regular field-marshal, arranging one game after another, 
 so that there were not the usual waits for childish 
 decision as to what the game should be. Carrying 
 eggs on a spoon at a run up and down the sandy beach 
 was not so easy; to rush up and down in turn with 
 lighted candles, and make sure the flame did not 
 blow out, seemed to be one of the favorite amuse- 
 ments. Potato races and other games much like ours 
 made the little ones happy, and tired enough for bed 
 at an earlier hour than usual. Italian children do not 
 go to bed as early as our babies, and even nine, and 
 a half after, finds them buying tuberoses or camellias 
 from the peasant boys, who bring in great baskets of 
 these flowers after dinner. Sometimes the Duchess is 
 [49] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the favored recipient of these httle flowery tokens of 
 good-will; now and then one of the elder Visconti 
 girls has brought the flowers gracefully to me; but 
 they are oftenest given to the Duke, who seems to 
 be the great admiration of all the children, to whom 
 he is always charmingly kind. 
 
 After luncheon to-day the women of our little 
 circle brought out their handiwork: Princess Imogene 
 Colonna, who is very good-looking and whom I like 
 very much, was trying to learn a new pattern of "reti- 
 cella" from Countess Castelbarco, who is very clever 
 in handling the tiny shuttle; and the Marchesa Vis- 
 conti-Ermes was doing some pretty filet lace in a 
 frame. In woman's work woman's nationality is 
 accentuated, and I was sorry all my embroideries were 
 left in Paris, for I think our American silk needle- 
 painting of flowers is really lovely when well done. 
 It seems as if many Sicilian nuns must have been in 
 America, or that Spanish influence found its way 
 from Florida and the West Indies farther north than 
 we thought; for grandmamma learned her beautiful 
 lace-making in Sicilian stitches, and our so-called 
 needle-painting is done in the same way, though much 
 less accurately than the graceful figures and beautiful 
 flowers that we find on the church vestments in the 
 cathedrals of Spain and Sicily. 
 
 Toward three o'clock one by one the women left 
 the circle for the daily siesta, and I enjoyed a long 
 talk with the Duke about his extensive trip to America 
 two years ago. Visconti is an extremely intelligent 
 man, the possessor of a large fortune inherited from 
 his father, but increased, I am told, by his own excel- 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 lent business ability. Through his generosity as presi- 
 dent of the Scala Opera House, Milan is able to enjoy 
 as fine opera as is to be heard in Europe anywhere. 
 **You in America have robbed us of so many of our 
 shining lights," said Visconti, "that sometimes we get 
 rather discouraged ; but fortunately we have new talent 
 coming up all the time, and at least we always have 
 fresh young voices, which you in New York often 
 sadly lack" — a remark that is only too true. Visconti 
 travelled West through Yellowstone Park; saw San 
 Francisco, California's and Colorado's wonders, a bit of 
 Canada — Montreal and Quebec — but unfortunately, 
 was cabled to return to Italy on business before he 
 could visit Washington or Boston. He seems to have 
 seen a great deal, and seen intelligently, which is a 
 great thing, for so many people travel with their eyes 
 shut. He told me of some very amusing experiences 
 that he had with newspaper reporters, who besieged 
 him at every turn; but judging from the clippings he 
 showed me, the newspaper men must have found him 
 very agreeable, for their accounts are all aglow with 
 admiration for the ''tail, mediaeval-looking Italian 
 nobleman, who talks English so well, is up to date on 
 finance, who seems sharp as a whip in every way, 
 and whose flashing eyes miss little of all that comes 
 within their vision." The Duke has helped me a 
 great deal about my book, and has told me of some 
 interesting old castles near here, and also of some 
 friends who have palaces in the vicinity, that I am 
 sure I shall greatly enjoy seeing. 
 
 To-morrow we are going to the famous Republic 
 of San Marino, thirteen kilometres from here. It is 
 [51] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the oldest republic in Europe, and the smallest in the 
 world, so I am most desirous of seeing its quaint capital. 
 Senator Frye told me that he had helped to arrange a 
 treaty with this republic, and asked me the last time 
 I saw him in Washington if I had ever been there. I 
 will write you all about it in a day or so. 
 Much love to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, August 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 San Marino was all that I expected, and more; for 
 combined with its historic interest are the glorious 
 natural beauties of its situation on the top of the 
 great jagged Monte Titano, which on the east com- 
 mands a glorious view of the sea twelve miles away, 
 on the north the picturesque valley of the Mareccia, 
 on the west the mountains of Montefeltro, and on 
 the south the distant peaks of the Apennines are 
 clearly to be seen with Monte Nerone rising in the 
 midst. 
 
 There is a rather pretty legend of a young Roman 
 matron who was converted to Christianity by a young 
 stone-cutter from Dalmatia, afterward known as San 
 Marino, to whom she gave the isolated crag as a safe 
 refuge wherein the holy man could continue unmolested 
 his religious devotions at the time of the persecution 
 of the Christians under Diocletian in 366 a.d. Whether 
 the legend be really true, no one can know, but cer- 
 tain it is that a convent or monastery existed here as 
 early as 885. At first the miniature state consisted 
 of the rocky cone of Monte Titano alone, but later 
 [52] 
 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 in the fifteenth century its territory was extended to 
 include a part of the surrounding plain and the castles 
 of Faetano, Fiorentino, Montegiardino and Serravalle, 
 through an alliance with the Piccolomini Pope, Pius II, 
 and Alphonso of Aragon, King of Naples, against the 
 Malatesta. Fortunately for the tiny colony, it was 
 always able, through the cleverness of its citizens and 
 on account of its situation, to make itself a sort of 
 buffer state between the great and powerful feudal 
 lords, the Malatesta on the one side, and the more 
 cultured, but still more powerful, Dukes of Urbino 
 on the other; though with the latter power the repub- 
 lic was always on friendly terms. When Napoleon 
 came here he thought this tiny plant of freedom should 
 be allowed to grow. To the great man, whose desire 
 for improvement for everything with which he came 
 in contact has been given that vaguely misunderstood 
 term, ambition, it seemed that the wee republic should 
 be given a seaport and a chance for communication 
 with the outside world. 
 
 But Antonio Onofri urged his fellow Sammarinesi 
 to refuse the offer, and to content themselves with 
 "well enough," which they did. So the great Napo- 
 leon left them to their own devices, and Onofri is now 
 called the Father of His Country. 
 
 The mountain is to be seen from a great distance, 
 and it seemed to us impossible that "Antonio'' could 
 ever climb this jagged cliff; but round and round we 
 circled, and at last entered at the city gate of San 
 Francesco, and then went almost straight up into the 
 air by the nearly perpendicular street that leads into 
 the main public square, the Piazza del Pianello. It is 
 [53] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 evidently not common for a big limousine to accom- 
 plish this feat, and a great many of the populace 
 rushed to inspect our valiant car. The square is orna- 
 mented by a statue of Liberty in the centre, presented 
 by an Englishwoman named Ottilia Wagner, who was 
 given by the republic the title of Duchess of Acqua- 
 viva, from a suburb near San Marino that takes its 
 name from a neighboring spring at which the patron 
 saint is said to have baptized his neophytes. The 
 statue faces the really fine modern Palazzo* del Gov- 
 erno, built in the style of the thirteenth century 
 palazzo comunale by a Sammarinese "patrician," 
 Francesco Azzurri, and dedicated the thirtieth of Sep- 
 tember, 1894, with a discourse by the great Giosue 
 Carducci of Bologna, entitled, *' Perpetual Liberty of 
 San Marino." A bronze statuette of the patron saint, 
 with a tablet marked "Felicita, vale in Deo," recalls 
 the religious beginnings; and the country's essentially 
 devout tendency is shown in the fact that only a 
 religious marriage is necessary, no civil ceremony 
 whatever being required within the limits of the 
 republic. The high tower proudly shows a fine trans- 
 parent clock and statues of the three patron saints of 
 the republic: San Leo, San Marino, and Sant' Agata. 
 The republic has solemn treaties of extradition 
 with Great Britain, Holland, and Belgium, and a 
 "convenzione di amicizia e buon vicinato col Regno d' 
 Italia " (convention of friendship and good neighbor- 
 liness with the Kingdom of Italy). Great Britain 
 sends a consul, as does Italy, and the republic has its 
 consuls in many countries. Goods not Italian enter- 
 ing the place pay the customs duties at the entrance 
 [54] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of Italy; the Italian Government, however, reimburses 
 these duties to San Marino. Money is no longer 
 coined here, Italian coinage being used through arrange- 
 ment with the Italian Government. The republic is 
 duly governed by two Capitani Reggenti (I thought of 
 your D.A.R. titles), selected twice a year from the 
 sixty life members of the Great Council, which is com- 
 posed in equal proportions of representatives of the 
 noblesse, the landowners, and the burghers. Just why 
 there should be a nobility in a modern republic I am 
 unable to understand, but they are all assisted by the 
 Small Council of twelve members of the Great Coun- 
 cil. Every man from sixteen to fifty-five, excepting 
 the students, has to be inscribed in the rolls of the 
 Civic Guard, or the citizen militia. A company of 
 about sixty individuals selected from these wear the 
 uniform of service, and may assist the police for the 
 public safety. From the citizen militia the military 
 band is formed and the national hymn is taken from a 
 theme of Guido Monaco. 
 
 The Guardia Nobile, which sounds to us more papal 
 than republican, escorts the Regents in all cases of 
 ceremony. There is also a Guardia di Rocca in charge 
 of the fortress now used as a prison. The first of the 
 two Regents is chosen from the nobles; the second 
 from the other two classes of citizens. Their author- 
 ity is equal, but the nobleman has, from custom, a 
 precedence over his colleague, who always gives the 
 place at the right. They are elected for six months, 
 and cannot be elected again for three years. They 
 are paid thirty dollars, and cannot refuse election 
 without paying a heavy fine of one hundred dollars. 
 [55] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The sovereign power is, however, always in the 
 Council, of which the Regents .are representatives and 
 ■presiding officers. Up to the middle of the seven- 
 teenth century every citizen could enter the Council 
 when he had something which seemed to be of pub- 
 lic usefulness or private interest, but of late years the 
 sittings are secret, much to the Council's comfort I 
 should imagine; for, in spite of all that is said of women, 
 almost all men love the sound of their own voices, 
 especially politicians. 
 
 The inauguration ceremonies must be very inter- 
 esting. In any case, they are unique. 
 
 Every March and September twelve of the Coun- 
 cil are nominated, from which six are chosen again, 
 who go two by two, one noble and the other not, to 
 the cathedral and proclaim the two newly elected 
 Regents. The procession marches at one o'clock in 
 the morning by torchlight, and the Regents take their 
 authority before this midnight assembly. Immedi- 
 ately following their instalment in office, the bells 
 of all the churches of the republic ring loudly, a mili- 
 tary concert follows, and the musicians conduct the 
 future Regents to their homes, where felicitations are 
 presented. 
 
 As to-day is the Festa of San Marino, all the sol- 
 diers are out "in their best bib and tucker" and the 
 peasants in the brightest obtainable handkerchiefs 
 for their heads. Someway, the little place was so 
 fascinating, so gay, so picturesquely Utopian, so en- 
 tirely unlike anything I have ever seen, that it seemed 
 much more like a delightfully pretty comic opera 
 than a remarkable reality. The band played in the 
 [56] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 little square; the chorus assembled in gay peasant 
 dress; the church bells rang, and in a house door stood 
 what might easily have been the prima donna, with 
 her white dress and coquettish red rose in her hair, 
 talking more with her dancing eyes than audibly to 
 the husky peasant lad, whose eager devotion and ear- 
 nest attitude proclaimed all too plainly the tendency 
 of his mission to the damsel's doorway. 
 
 We bought a set of stamps, and then wandered up 
 the narrow hilly street to the cathedral, where high 
 mass and imposing ceremonies in honor of San Marino 
 were going on. The building is modern, and not of 
 any special interest beyond the tomb of the patron 
 saint, and the stone upon which the holy man is sup- 
 posed to have slept. 
 
 The interior of the Palazzo Comunale is very well 
 done. There are busts and tablets to the various 
 celebrated Sammarinesi, and records of the republic's 
 successful repulsion of advancing enemies. The dis- 
 tinguished cardinal about whom I wrote to you from 
 Piacenza, Giulio Alberoni, surprised the republic in 
 1739 with a large force, representing to the Holy 
 See that the Sammarinesi desired to come under the 
 direction of the Church, but Pope Clement XII, on 
 learning of their opposition, and that they desired to 
 maintain their freedom, restored liberty, and a large 
 painting commemorates this restitution on Sant' Agata's 
 Day, February 5, 1740. 
 
 The celebrated numismatist, Bartolomeo Bor- 
 
 ghesi, lived here all the latter part of his life, and 
 
 arranged his world-famous collections in the house 
 
 that now takes his name. There is also a bust of the 
 
 [57] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Maestro Puccini, who in 1867 inaugurated a series of 
 concerts here, and I was immensely surprised and inter- 
 ested to see that my dear old teacher, Bimboni, with 
 other orchestral directors, helped in the success of 
 these concerts. Between two doors in one of the halls 
 is a medallion given by Victor Emmanuel II, two 
 bronze busts, the gifts of King Umberto I and Queen 
 Margherita, whom they portray, and a bust of Queen 
 Victoria; all of whom were made honorary citizens of 
 this curious and altogether fascinating republic. 
 
 After strolling round the town we climbed up to 
 the first tower of the great rocca (fortress), now used 
 as a prison, though the death penalty has been abol- 
 ished. Criminals condemned to over six months' servi- 
 tude are placed in the penitentiaries of Italy, whose 
 government is reimbursed by the republic. There is a 
 quaint little chapel dedicated to Santa Barbara in 
 the first courtyard, and we were shown two mortars 
 given by Victor Emmanuel III. In the second court- 
 yard, which is really part of the top crag of the moun- 
 tain, the view is magnificent beyond all description. 
 Toward the sea the towns of Cattolica, Riccione, 
 Rimini, Bellaria, and even the great pine forest 
 (pineta) of Ravenna, are plainly visible. To one side 
 Monte Scudo, Serravalle, and the high stone fortress 
 of Verucchio made another picturesque landscape. 
 The air was as clear and cool as our days at home in 
 October, and I smiled at the sympathetic letter I 
 received from an American friend who condoned with 
 me for being in Italy in summer. We did not climb 
 across to the rocky second Fratta tower, and the far- 
 distant one at the other end of the huge rocky Mon- 
 [58] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 tale (737 metres high) is not accessible, being used for- 
 merly for signal purposes only. 
 
 Three green mountains, each topped by plumed 
 towers on a blue ground, surmounted by a closed 
 crown (symbol of independence) with the motto, 
 "Libertas," form the coat-of-arms of the republic. 
 
 We bought one of the pretty blue and white San 
 Marino flags, and fastened it to one of our front lights 
 to prove to doubting friends that "Antonio" had 
 really gone to the square of the little city where the 
 flags are sold. I ventured to ask three of the Guardia 
 Nobile to pose for my camera, and I send you the result 
 of their beaming assent. 
 
 As we are to be some time in Rimini we shall surely 
 come up here again, both for the glorious air and to 
 renew our pleasant appreciation of this unique little 
 place. Already we have planned numerous excursions, 
 and to-morrow are going to the little old walled town 
 of Gradara. In talking over my theatrical impres- 
 sions of San Marino this evening with the Duke 
 Visconti, I find I am not alone in my serio-comic 
 idea of the Republic, for he said it affected him much 
 the same way. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning F. B. hired one of the little bath- 
 houses with a tent adjoining in front, and we followed 
 the prevailing custom of spending the morning on the 
 beach. There is a special staircase in the hotel arranged 
 for bathers, and after the bath they put on rather elab- 
 [59] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 orate bathrobes and stroll about the beach paying calls 
 from one little tent to another, where the ladies who 
 do not go into the sea, have small sweet cakes and 
 Italian cocktails to offer the hungry bathers. The 
 vermuth and selzer is an excellent drink, and I mean to 
 introQuce it to our friends at home. The children 
 are on the beach early, and live in their little bathing 
 suits all the morning, playing ''diabolo" and romping 
 in the sand. The beach tents take the place of an 
 American hotel piazza at the seaside, and each one is 
 fitted up like a summer parlor: pretty willow furni- 
 ture, bright cushions, heavy grass mats on the sand, 
 and flowers on the tables. There are always flowers 
 everywhere in Italy; they seem a contiguous part of 
 every occasion and all places, though Melle. de Favre 
 (Pierre de Coulevain) does give us Americans credit 
 for having first started the hotel proprietors to put 
 flowers on the tables of their restaurants. 
 
 I made a number of calls from one tent to another, 
 and send you some pictures I took of the various 
 friends. The altogether informal and jolly way in 
 which the men let me take their pictures in their bath- 
 robes is only one of the many instances of the real 
 good humor and utter freedom from self-consciousness 
 of the Italian nobility. The Englishman is outwardly 
 reserved and generally bashful, and the thing he most 
 dreads on earth is being bored, and he talks so much 
 about his fear that he often realizes it for himself. 
 The Italian, on the other hand, is so concerned with 
 making other people comfortable that he forgets all 
 about himself, and he has the art of amusing himself 
 down to the finest point. He is born in a land of sun- 
 [6ol 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 shine, and his nature naturally follows the climate. 
 He enjoys fine riding and fox-hunting as much as his 
 Anglo-Saxon brother; he can shoot with the best shots 
 in the world; he can enjoy the races, breed his fine 
 horses, and win or lose as much money as anyone; in 
 fact, the Italian gentleman is a good all-round sport; 
 only, he is not really dependent on some sort of excite- 
 ment as the supposedly more quiet and stolid Anglo- 
 Saxon seems to be. The Italian can retire to his country 
 house with his family and entertain in a luxurious 
 way from time to time, but he can be perfectly con- 
 tented and happy for weeks, yes, for months at a time, 
 in the bosom of his family, with no other amusement 
 than that of looking after his estates, with now and then 
 a day's hunting in the autumn. The Italian's domes- 
 tic life means a great deal to him; he adores his chil- 
 dren, and generally makes an excellent husband. In 
 the whole family life there is a sense of repose and love 
 of the home, and of Nature, not only for out-of-door 
 sports, but for trees and flowers and Nature's quiet 
 side that in this modern age of nervous rushing about 
 is quite unusual and altogether delightful. 
 
 I spent but a few moments in my own "cabine" 
 this morning, for Donna Imogene Colonna asked me 
 over, almost as soon as I came on the beach, to meet 
 her mother, Madame Forti, who has come for a little 
 visit of a few days here at the sea. Imogene was look- 
 ing very "chic" this morning in a white linen, with 
 a most artistic Leghorn hat ablaze with red poppies 
 that set off her black hair and eyes to perfection, and 
 made a lovely bit of color on the beach. After lunch 
 we took Donna Imogene and her mother down to 
 [6il 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 RIccione, another similar but less attractive watering- 
 place near here, and while they were paying their 
 visit to some friends, we ran on a few kilometres to 
 see the most fascinating, mediaeval, old walled town 
 of Gradara, where there is one of the finest pieces of 
 Luca della Robbia's lovely works in terra cotta. It 
 is often said that the blue and white is the work of 
 Luca, while the yellow and other shades were added 
 by his nephew and his nephew's sons; but this is not 
 correct, for one of the greatest works of Luca, the 
 medallion commemorating Renee of Anjou's visit to 
 Florence in 1444, is decidedly polychromatic. 
 
 Great was the excitement when our auto swung 
 into the gate of the tiny city, but one of the men 
 quickly came forward, hat in hand, and offered to 
 show us all about. There was a beautiful Madonna 
 by Giovanni Sanzio, Raphael's father, in an inner 
 room of the Municipio, and some excellent furniture, 
 that I should love to have bought, in the keeper's 
 rooms on the first floor. We signed our names in the 
 visitors' book that is placed in the little family chapel 
 of the castle, where the della Robbia forms a wonder- 
 fully beautiful altar-piece. As we turned to go, the 
 custodian, looking at our signatures, exclaimed, *'Their 
 Excellencies are really from America!" I assured him 
 that we were, and after several grunts and ejacula- 
 tions of surprise, he said, meditatively, as if trying to 
 convince himself, "Well, well, I never thought any 
 Americans would come here. What a long journey 
 you must have had! But our della Robbia is very 
 beautiful, of course." 
 
 Although from the ramparts we had a glorious and 
 
 [62] 
 
^^^^ 
 
 < ^ 
 
 < ^ 
 
 o ^ 
 
 ^ o 
 
 O !<, 
 
 o ■:; 
 
 ►J o 
 
 < c 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 extensive view, the peasants' views had evidently been 
 confined to the old towered wall that still encircles, 
 unbroken, this small city of the Middle Ages, once the 
 domain of Giovanni Sforza, the unfortunate first hus- 
 band of poor Lucrezia Borgia. 
 
 As we looked toward Pesaro, the town by the sea 
 from which Giovanni Sforza came, I could not but 
 think of the one year of tranquillity of poor gentle, 
 ill-used Lucrezia's youth. The recent researches show 
 her to have been such a difi^erent character from that 
 portrayed by Victor Hugo and others, and all our 
 scorn turns to pity when we read how her dreadful 
 father. Pope Alexander VI, and more dreadful brother, 
 Caesar, used her gentle personality to cloak their ter- 
 rible crimes. She, poor child, was powerless to do 
 aught but accept the calumny heaped upon her, but 
 once given a chance, she seems to have been a model 
 of sweetness and amiability. The Chevalier Bayard 
 says of her, after his visit to the court of Ferrara: 
 "The good Duchess is a pearl in this world. I venture 
 to say that neither in her time nor for many years 
 before, has there been such a glorious princess, for 
 she is beautiful and good, gentle and amiable to every- 
 one, and nothing is more certain than this: that 
 although her husband is a skilful and brave prince, 
 the above-named lady by her graciousness has been 
 of great service to him." Certain it is that her hus- 
 band, Alphonso d'Este of Ferrara, fainted from grief 
 at her funeral, and men in the Middle Ages did not 
 faint easily or from sham emotions. It is comforting 
 to think that at least at Gradara, in this very old castle, 
 she probably spent many quiet, happy hours, far from 
 [63] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the licentious excitements and gayeties of her father's 
 court at Rome. She studied Greek here with Diplo- 
 vazio of Corfu, and had evidently made herself much 
 beloved at Pesaro and hereabouts, when, with the 
 fierce suddenness of all the Borgia horrors, she was 
 recalled to Rome, and before she could realize the 
 trend of events, was ruthlessly divorced, and even 
 forced to help her own distress and separation by 
 humiliating statements. There was but one penalty 
 for disobedience to the will of the Borgia, and Lucrezia 
 knew her father and her brother too well to disobey. 
 The story goes that once when her infamous brother 
 came to see her one day in Rome, she bade Sforza's 
 chamberlain to hide behind a screen; Caesar calmly 
 announced that he should soon murder her husband, 
 but she was able, through this man, to give timely 
 warning of Giovanni's approaching danger. It was 
 Holy Week, and through some pretext Sforza made 
 his way to the church of Sant' Onofrio, where he threw 
 himself on a Turkish horse, and rode in twenty-four 
 hours to Pesaro, where the beast dropped dead. Poor 
 Giovanni could hardly foresee, when he stood in proud 
 array with his bride by the side of the great pope 
 (Lucrezia's father) at Whitsuntide in 1496, that but a 
 few years would pass before this dreadful nepotist, 
 Caesar Borgia, would have robbed him not only of 
 his gentle and beautiful wife, but also of his fair do- 
 mains. No wonder Caesar was greedy for the fair 
 country round about here! It seems to me one of 
 the most attractive parts of all this glorious Italy, 
 and judging from the way men fought for it in the 
 Middle Ages, it was then so considered. Mv pity for 
 [64] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Giovanni wanes, however, when I think of how, in 
 his fury, he slandered his wife whom he fought so hard 
 to keep ; he deserved to lose her, for had he ever loved 
 her he could never have vilified her name. At last, 
 however, Caesar and his horrors came to an end; Sforza's 
 land was returned to him, and he lived out his last 
 days and died a peaceful death in this old castle of 
 Gradara, in 1510. 
 
 We could see, also, from the ramparts the once 
 gorgeous villa on Monte Accio called the Villa Im- 
 periale, so named because the corner-stone was laid 
 by Emperor Frederick III when he was returning from 
 his coronation as Emperor of Rome. Here Donna 
 Lucrezia also spent a few weeks of her one peaceful 
 summer, and here also, a generation later, came Eleo- 
 nora Gonzaga, wife of Francesco Maria della Rovere 
 of Urbino, into whose possession the dominions of 
 Pesaro finally came. It was to this charming Eleonora 
 and her court that Tasso read his pastorale, "Aminta," 
 in the gardens of this villa. 
 
 Our friend, the Duke of Lante della Rovere in 
 Rome, that I wrote you entertained us so beautifully, 
 is a descendant of all these interesting men and women 
 of Urbino where we are going to-morrow. 
 
 It is like your picture puzzles at home to fit in all 
 the relationships of these great families in Italy, but 
 it is worth while to do it, because the picture is inter- 
 esting and wonderfully dramatic when all the puzzle 
 is done, and the romantic individual lives are inter- 
 woven into one great history of this unequalled penin- 
 sula of the world. 
 
 The present owner of the castle, a young nobleman, 
 [65] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Count Pietro Morandi Buonacossi, is quite in touch 
 with his century, and practises law in the neighboring 
 city of Padua. He keeps an apartment of the castle 
 fitted up with modern comforts, and generally comes 
 to his stronghold for a few weeks in the autumn to 
 look after his vintage and other land products. The 
 galleries on the outer part of the ramparts still show 
 the holes down which boiling lead and hot water were 
 poured on the heads of all intruders within reach, but 
 their usefulness has passed, as has also that of the great 
 kitchen where bread was once made for the numerous 
 soldiery of the castle of old, in size and quantity 
 hardly dreamed of nowadays. 
 
 I was sorry to leave this dear, picturesque little 
 town, with its narrow, grass-grown, stony streets, its 
 old feudal castle in the centre, which had been the 
 scene of angry battles of the Visconti, Sforza, and 
 others, but which now smiled over the broad, waving 
 fields of grain as if no one had ever had anything but 
 good-will toward it and its fertile surroundings. We 
 stopped for the Princess Colonna on our way back, 
 but her mother is going on the interesting pilgrimage 
 to the shrine of Loreto, and thence to her villa near 
 Padua, where she has made us promise to come later 
 in the autumn, when Imogene and the Prince are giving 
 several house parties. 
 
 This evening there was a ball for the children given 
 by the hotel management, with favors and candies, 
 and while the little ones had all the fun possible, I 
 think the "grown-ups" stole a waltz or two, and thor- 
 oughly enjoyed the occasion, as well. 
 
 I must say that I have never seen such perfectly 
 [66] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 mannered children as these darhngs of my ItaHan 
 friends, and each one vies with the other in beauty 
 and grace, yet they all seem absolutely as unconscious 
 of their dainty laces as of their beautiful eyes and hair. 
 
 The Marchesa Visconti-Ermes-Casati and Imogene 
 have arranged to go with us up to see Ulderico Car- 
 pegna at the old family palace far up on the mountain, 
 some little distance from here. The family takes its 
 name from the town, which is not on any map nor 
 in any guide book that I can find, but Imogene has 
 been there, and I liked the Prince very much in Rome, 
 and promised to come and see his country palace, if 
 possible, when I came to Italy this summer. 
 
 So I will write again to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning I had another jolly time taking pic- 
 tures, visiting, strolling, and chatting with the friends 
 in their various " cabines " (tents) . They rather scolded 
 me for getting one of my own, for they said I should 
 have known I should be welcome always to come to 
 theirs, and of course theirs are very "comfy" and per- 
 sonally fixed up, while mine is just as stiff as all "ready- 
 made," "to hire" things always are; but as F. B. is 
 going to try the Adriatic bathing, a hired tent was 
 indispensable. 
 
 As we started off on our "gita" this afternoon 
 Count Bulgarini spied the military cape that I had 
 made at the Army Stores in Rome. I asked at the 
 {^7\ 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 time if it were all right to have the stars on the corner 
 of the collar, and was assured that it was, first of all 
 for a woman, and especially for one not an Italian; 
 therefore I could have for my pretty blue cape all the 
 stars I wanted; but Bulgarini did not at all agree with 
 this decision. He is a Captain of Cavalry at Flor- 
 ence, and laughingly promised to arrest me when I 
 came to that city later in the fall. We shall see. Any- 
 how, I shall not remove my stars at present, and the 
 cape is my constant comfort, for the evenings are very 
 cool. 
 
 We started on the road that leads to San Marino, 
 but turned off and climbed one steep ascent after 
 another till we reached the town of San Leo, where we 
 came the other day to see the splendid old fortress, 
 used for a time as a prison, but now kept only as a 
 government monument. The room where the impos- 
 tor, Cagliostro, was let down through a hole as the 
 only entrance, and where he died in 1795, gave me the 
 ''creeps," and the little old Romanesque church that 
 the sweetest, bright-eyed old peasant woman led us 
 to see, pleased me much better than the grim castle. 
 The choir and main altar were raised after the manner 
 of the early Christian church over a spacious crypt, 
 where the silver sarcophagus of the patron saint, 
 San Leo, is placed. A flight of steps on the left leads 
 up to the choir, completing the old Romanesque 
 arrangement of the interior. It was extremely simple 
 and lovely. 
 
 I talked with the woman, who asked many ques- 
 tions about America, where one of her sons has gone. 
 The son was evidently ''getting on," as her bright eyes 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 danced as she spoke of his progress, and proudly drew 
 forth a letter with the stamp bearing our great Lin- 
 coln's likeness. "If I were not too old, I too would 
 go," said the old woman with a sigh. 
 
 The Italian peasants grow old quickly because 
 they begin life so young and work so hard. They are 
 often married at fourteen, and by the time they 
 are twenty have many cares, and already a numerous 
 family. They have few, if any, of the luxuries of life, 
 but they have what no poor of other countries have 
 to the same extent — a glorious climate. The Italians 
 practically live out of doors, and the fresh air and their 
 naturally wholesome diet is their salvation. In the 
 mountain districts they are bright, sturdy and strong, 
 and though people at home do not generally realize it, 
 our immigrants come mostly from these mountainous 
 sections; for there are mountains in almost every part 
 of Italy. But strong and healthy as the women are, 
 they use their strength to the utmost. They give but 
 a few days to childbirth, and a week finds them again 
 doing their housework, and washing in the river; at 
 the age of forty they are old and tired, while many of 
 the upper classes, who have practically all the luxuries, 
 remain young and handsome way into the sixties. 
 
 To-day we did not stop at the rocky height of San 
 Leo, but went on and up until it seemed to me we were 
 climbing literally to the clouds. The road made such 
 continual turns that it seemed again and again that we 
 had at last reached the "jumping-off place," and must 
 turn back the way we had come, but always on reach- 
 ing the curve "Antonio" would swing around to an- 
 other glorious view of the mountains, and castles here 
 [69] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 and there, until I felt we were a part of a circular 
 cinematograph, with the mountains of Montefeltro and 
 the Apennines for a subject. All the way up we passed 
 men driving numbers of big, beautiful, white cattle, 
 which are, however, immensely inconvenient for a 
 motor car, and insist at all times on putting them- 
 selves just where the automobile wants to go. All 
 the cattle and men were going in our direction, and 
 presently as we swung around one of the sharp curves 
 of the road I spoke of, we came upon an Italian 
 **Fiera di bestiame" (cattle show) at the small town of 
 Polignano. Thousands and thousands of cattle were 
 scattered over an immense field that broadened out 
 into a great plateau just below the town to which we 
 had climbed and climbed for so long a time. Every- 
 body, with his grandmother, his sisters, and cousins 
 and aunts, had arrived from far and near to assist in 
 selling the family stock; and such a collection of sheep 
 and pigs (black and white), hens and cows, oxen and 
 horses, and animals generally I have never seen to- 
 gether. Added to the general noise of the occasion 
 were travelling gypsies who offered to tell your for- 
 tunes in wee tents; and venders of sweetmeats, pot- 
 tery and other kitchen utensils were not backward 
 about announcing the worth of their things to sell. 
 
 And now in the midst of all this, imagine the com- 
 motion we made as we climbed, tooting and blowing, 
 through the collection of all the livestock of the dis- 
 trict. I do not exactly think we were welcome, but 
 Vincenzo talked Spanish to the unobliging and obtru- 
 sive cows, who seemed to understand, for they moved 
 leisurely off in the right direction. 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 The peasants were frankly interested, and I send 
 you a picture of a specimen pair of oxen. Are they 
 not lovely ? In this part of the country the cattle do 
 practically all the farm work, the cows, except the few 
 kept for the little milk used, working as well as the 
 oxen. A horse-drawn plough is an unheard-of thing in 
 this region. The horses really only deserve the name 
 **pony,'* and are not much larger than our broncos, 
 though apparently as strong. They are driven only 
 in little two-wheeled go-carts hardly bigger than the 
 lusty red-cheeked women who ride in them, "Surely 
 we cannot be far from Carpegna?" I asked of a peas- 
 ant, wondering if he had ever heard of the place, and 
 if it had not been a dream of Imogene's of a trip to the 
 clouds. *'Pochi kilometri piu avanti, sempre dritto" 
 ("A few kilometres farther on, straight ahead"). 
 "Sempre dritto" (straight ahead) was the most curved 
 proposition for a straight line I have ever experienced, 
 but we finally did toot into a small town, and lo 
 and behold, there was the splendid, altogether citi- 
 fied-looking palace of generous proportions of Prince 
 and Princess Carpegna. A ring at the door brought 
 a big major-domo, who told us that the Princess and 
 her son, together with their guests, were all up at 
 the cantoniera. "Up?" I gasped. "Can anyone go 
 higher than this?" But on we went, a kilometre into 
 the air. The cantoniera is the small house occupied 
 by the guardian of the road, and here we found the 
 most surprised and yet the most joyous welcome from 
 dear old Princess Carpegna, her daughter Countess 
 Thun-Hohenstein, (a relative, probably, of the handsome 
 Life-guard officer. Count Leonard Thun-Hohenstein^ 
 [71] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 whom we know in Vienna), her niece, their children, and 
 her handsome son, Ulderico. When the younger mem- 
 bers of the house of Carpegna come into the title they 
 must assume the name of Horazio, whatever they have 
 been called before. They begged us to come back to the 
 palace for tea, and smilingly scolded us for not having 
 come earlier to luncheon; but we preferred to leave the 
 car, and walk up to the summit of the mountain with 
 the party, gathering the most beautiful flowers of vari- 
 ous kinds, but singularly enough, all of the same shade. 
 Once at the top, I can hardly describe to you the mag- 
 nificence of our view. The Apennines seemed like a 
 veritable ocean, one wave of peaks following another. 
 The little stream of the Mareccia seemed to belong 
 almost to another earth, so far away was its silver course 
 in the valley. The air was absolutely inspiring, and 
 we felt well repaid for the long climb up here, especially 
 as our good friends seemed so very glad to see us. We 
 stayed for some time, feasting our eyes on the view, 
 and our lungs on the air; but the sunset came at last, 
 and we had to start homeward. With our hands filled 
 with flowers, and the vases in the automobile fully 
 decorated with more blossoms, we waved a regretful 
 good-bye, promising to come again at the first pos- 
 sible opportunity. "And next time to luncheon '* 
 called the Princess as we started on the road round the 
 mountain homeward. The whole way was one suc- 
 cession of beautiful views, and the immense power and 
 importance of the family of the Malatesta was brought 
 home to us as we passed one rocky stronghold after 
 another, at Scorticata, and later on Verucchio, and 
 many others. 
 
 [72] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 It takes eight hours in a dihgence to go from 
 Rimini to Carpegna, and we left Rimini at half-past 
 two this afternoon, and were back in time to dress 
 for dinner easily at eight o'clock. Such are the possi- 
 bilities of the automobile! 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 This has been a red-letter day, and the memories 
 of all the beautiful things we have seen, as well as 
 the glorious views we have enjoyed, will linger long 
 in my mind. The trip to Urbino is one of the most 
 picturesque about here, though my adjectives for 
 beautiful scenery are all over-tired, yet inadequate 
 to the occasions. 
 
 Entirely different adjectives, however, are necessary 
 when speaking of Caesar Borgia, though he did one good 
 thing in securing the services of that all-round genius, 
 Leonardo da Vinci, as a skilled engineer, to improve this 
 province of the Romagna (which has nothing to do with 
 the country about Rome, as supposed) ; particularly 
 about this beautiful old castle and town, which he 
 treacherously seized from the Duke Guidobaldo and 
 his beautiful wife, Elizabeth Gonzaga, one of the most 
 cultured and altogether attractive characters of the 
 women of the Renaissance. She was a sister of the 
 Duke of Mantua, who married the handsome blonde 
 Isabella of Este, who later was to be a sister-in-law of 
 the fair Lucrezia. 
 
 As we passed from one room of the great castle to 
 
 [73] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 another, our wonder grew at the magnificence of the 
 great stone casings bordered with marvellous sculp- 
 ture, and framing their inlaid doors of surpassing 
 beauty and skilful workmanship. It was easy to 
 imagine the lovely Elizabeth sitting with her ladies, 
 in richly embroidered gowns and sumptuous jewels, 
 her hair drawn over the ears and held by the jewelled 
 "lenza," which we see in the portraits of so many of the 
 women of that day, listening to Ariosto and others of 
 the most noted scholars of the time, and viewing with 
 interest some new work of Giovanni Sanzio; perhaps, 
 too, watching the progress of the seven-year-old boy 
 Raphael, who came sometimes to help his father at 
 the castle. 
 
 Federigo Montefeltro gave his daughter Giovanna 
 in marriage to Giovanni della Rovere, a nephew of 
 the Delia Rovere pope, Sixtus IV, who created him 
 the first Duke of Urbino in 1474. His wife, Battista 
 Sforza, won universal admiration by her virtues and 
 many talents. She was, like her mother, Costanza 
 Varano, a poetess, an orator, and a philosopher, and 
 gathered about her the most distinguished men of 
 her age. After her there follows a series of lovely 
 women who drew about them many of the artists 
 and learned men of their times, and whose husbands 
 seem to have been as wise and virtuous as they were 
 prosperous. Thus the great stronghold of Urbino 
 became one of the centres of culture, and one of the 
 most famous castles of the Renaissance. The towns- 
 people must have gathered special inspiration from 
 the atmosphere of so much refinement and education; 
 for the little town has given birth not only to the 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 immortal Raphael, but to many other distinguished 
 and noted men. 
 
 During the Renaissance a learned woman who wrote 
 books, who could carry on intelligent discussion in 
 several languages, was not called, as she often is by the 
 men of to-day, a bluestocking. On the contrary, a 
 woman was still more admired if, with beauty and 
 grace, she possessed the added qualities of classical 
 learning. Jacopo of Bergamo especially praises the 
 combination of beauty, grace, and culture, and after 
 lauding Ginevra Sforza's wonderful mental attain- 
 ments, describes her "elegance of form, her wonderful 
 grace in every motion, her calm and queenly bear- 
 ing, and her chaste beauty." What was then called 
 modesty was the natural grace of a gifted woman 
 increased by education and association. Most of the 
 women were versed in the classical languages, and 
 literature, oratory, poetry, the arts of versification 
 and music — even theology and philosophy — were 
 cultivated by women, and debates on questions in 
 these fields of inquiry were the order of the day at 
 the courts, and in the halls of the universities, where 
 women even acquired considerable renown by taking 
 part in them. But these studies were followed gener- 
 ally for the purpose of perfecting and beautifying the 
 personality. Conversation was made an art, and it 
 was not thought necessary to stimulate it by the 
 eternal fiddle of the present-day entertainment. 
 
 Gregorovius assures us that the women of the 
 better classes during the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
 turies were as well, or perhaps better educated than 
 the women of to-day. Their education was not broad. 
 [75] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 and was limited to a few branches, for they did not 
 have our almost inexhaustible means of learning to 
 draw from; but at least, their education was thorough; 
 and it is precisely to the many-sidedness of our modern 
 thought that the superficiality of the education of our 
 contemporary women is due. One author exclaims 
 with satisfaction that during the Renaissance the 
 piano was unknown; but then their educated women 
 performed upon the lute, *' which had the advantage 
 that, in the hands of the lady playing it, it presented 
 an agreeable picture to the eyes, while the piano is 
 only a machine which compels the man or woman 
 who is playing it to go through motions which are 
 always unpleasant and often ridiculous." The Italians 
 of the Renaissance did not believe that scientific 
 knowledge destroys the charm of womanliness, nor did 
 they believe that the education of women should be 
 less advanced than that of men. This idea, like many 
 others of present-day society, is of Teutonic or Anglo- 
 Saxon origin. The influence which gifted women of 
 the Italian salons of the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
 turies, and later of those of France, exercised upon the 
 intellectual development of society, not only as beau- 
 tiful personal inspirations, but as intelligent critics 
 and earnest co-workers, was completely unknown in 
 England and Germany. 
 
 The Italian woman of to-day can hardly be said to 
 have kept her place by the side of the men; but while 
 she lost ground for some years during the ascendency 
 of the Church — whose influence was to lessen her 
 power and advancement, and, in some cases make 
 her the tool of the priests — she is to-day gaining 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ground, and the Italian woman of this generation and 
 its immediate successor will show a marked improve- 
 ment over the last hundred years. Certain it is that 
 the Italian woman of to-day is fully up to the stand- 
 ard of other women of Europe, but it is to the New 
 World that credit must be given for the great advance 
 in the freedom of women. To give a woman freedom 
 of action is to allow her individuality to find expres- 
 sion and her character to develop. Far be it from 
 me to assume that the American woman is more intel- 
 lectual than any others of her sex. First of all, there 
 are too many very frivolous and superficially educated 
 women about us to disprove at once any such state- 
 ment; but there have been a sufficiently large number 
 of intelligent American women who have had an 
 earnest desire to cultivate their brains and talents to 
 justify the ample and extensive means that have been 
 provided for their advancement. I think any reason- 
 able man will find many beautiful and altogether 
 womanly girls in our colleges of to-day, who are not 
 bluestockings, on the one hand, nor superficial butter- 
 flies on the other; and I venture to say that even to 
 the average man the brains and beauty will have far 
 more charm than the beauty, with all else lacking. 
 Birds of a feather, of course, flock together, and medi- 
 ocrity will always seek its counterpart to the end of 
 time. 
 
 There are many interesting pictures here by Gio- 
 vanni Sanzio, Ghirlandajo, Guido Reni, and some 
 beautiful canvases by Timoteo Viti, Raphael's master 
 after the death of his father, when the boy was but 
 eleven years old. Viti had stayed long in Bologna 
 [77] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 with one of my favorite artists, Francesco Francia, 
 and the budding genius of Raphael was grounded in 
 the Francia manner, which I think is altogether beau- 
 tiful. He is much more a pupil of the Francia school 
 than of Perugino, to whose studio he went, not as a 
 pupil, but as an assistant. 
 
 In the halls of the great mediaeval castle is placed 
 the fine collection of antiquities found about here, 
 for Urbino is one of the most ancient cities of Italy, 
 having acquired its rights of Roman citizenship in 
 89 B.C. It was in Urbino that the Medici family, 
 driven from Florence, found abundant and magnifi- 
 cent hospitality, and the last Duchess of Urbino, 
 Claudia de' Medici, carried off the marvellous tapes- 
 tries to Florence. Caesar Borgia, during the six years 
 that he controlled the town, also made off with many 
 of the rarest works of art, and the greater part of the 
 magnificent library he transferred to Cesena, where 
 he himself established a library. He was like a great 
 monster devouring the lesser ones. He gained the 
 great castle of Urbino by the most audacious fraud. 
 Guidobaldo I, son of the famous Federigo, deceived by 
 letters of Caesar's father, Pope Alexander VI, disarmed 
 himself in order to lend Caesar the aid of his troops, 
 when suddenly he saw the traitor appear before the 
 castle as an enemy. He fled across the mountains 
 until he reached Mantua. His young heir, Francesco 
 Maria della Rovere, escaped by other routes. Caesar 
 occupied the whole of the defenseless city of Urbino, 
 and seized all the objects of value in the great Feder- 
 igo's magnificent palace. 
 
 Great quantities of silver plate were taken from 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the castle at one time, and in all he is said to 
 have seized of Federigo's treasures the worth of 
 one hundred fifty thousand ducats. The policy of the 
 terrible Pope Alexander VI, and of his more terrible 
 son, was to preach goodness, a fine, careful rule, justice, 
 and all the other virtues, and live the reverse; but the 
 time came with the death of his father, of which he 
 himself is accused, when Caesar's flatterers deserted 
 him, and Guidobaldo Montefeltro was able to come 
 back to his estates. 
 
 The last duke, Francesco Maria II, in 1626 died 
 childless, and the duchy was incorporated with the 
 estates of the Church, but became a part of modern 
 Italy in 1870. We were shown the room that was 
 inhabited by Ariosto during the visit of the illustrious 
 Ferrarese at the court of Urbino, and near this room 
 is the private chapel of the Duke, a marvel of carving 
 and artistic workmanship. His studio is the most 
 magnificent specimen of woodcarving and inlaying I 
 have ever seen. From its perfection of workmanship 
 and design, one would almost believe the pictures to 
 have been painted, and it seems a miracle that during 
 the vicissitudes through which the old castle has 
 passed, this private studio of the Duke has remained 
 absolutely intact and uninjured, a precious souvenir 
 of him who knew how to surround himself with the 
 best men of his time. On the way down the staircase 
 is an immense carving of the Montefeltro arms. 
 
 After leaving the castle we went to see the beau- 
 tiful tympanum relief of the Madonna and four monas- 
 tic saints, over the doorway of the church of San 
 Domenico. Far fewer works of the great Luca exist 
 [79] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 than is generally supposed, for the majority of these 
 reliefs are the work of some of the younger members 
 of his family; but this is considered one of the finest 
 of the master's productions. The whole is modelled 
 with the most perfect grace and dignified simplicity. 
 The heads are full of life, and the treatment of the 
 drapery, in broad, simple folds, is worthy of a Greek 
 sculptor of the best period of Hellenic art. I have 
 always thought that Luca della Robbia decidedly 
 excelled his contemporary Donatello in grace of atti- 
 tude and beauty of expression. Though he was not 
 the inventor of this process of covering the clay by 
 an enamel formed of the ordinary ingredients of 
 glass, and made opaquely white with oxide of tin, 
 yet his genius so improved and extended its application 
 that I think most of us speak of the ware as della 
 Robbia. 
 
 There are some wonderful statues of Gianbologna 
 (Jean de Boulogne) in the crypt of the cathedral, but 
 we were eager to get on to see the modest house of 
 Raphael, which has been bought by a committee of 
 men, one Englishman being most prominent in the 
 purchase. The house now belongs to the Regia 
 Accademia Raffaello, and is situated on the steepest 
 street I have ever seen. In the room in which Raphael 
 is said to have been born there is a Madonna by his 
 father, supposed to represent Magia Ciarla, Raphael's 
 mother, and her baby boy. 
 
 The local guide, who was most assiduous in his 
 
 attentions, now proceeded to lead us up a small side 
 
 street to the church of San Giuseppe, where there is 
 
 a very extraordinary group of "The Nativity" by 
 
 [80] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Brandano, and we had a rather hurried view of the 
 Oratorio di San Giovanni. 
 
 It was now time for us to return to Rimini, and 
 after stopping for numerous postal cards in the httle 
 square, where we found Vincenzo discoursing on auto- 
 mobile driving to an evidently interested gathering of 
 men and boys, we jumped into the car, and came back 
 to this comfortable and altogether delightful hotel. 
 
 To-morrow we are going sight-seeing in Rimini, 
 which we have passed through and around so many 
 times already; but we have thought that we could 
 run up to Rimini any time. As any time is usually 
 never, we are determined to see all the wonders to- 
 morrow, for we are already thinking of moving on. 
 
 Much love. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we have accomplished our resolve in seeing 
 the sights of Rimini. Though the town is so old and 
 so beautifully situated, it is difficult to disassociate it 
 from the almost fiendish personality of Sigismondo 
 Malatesta, who gathered about him poets and scholars 
 whom "he poisoned during their lives, and for whom 
 when dead, he built sarcophagi about the outer wall 
 of his great church." Pope Pius II (Piccolomini) 
 thought that the cathedral resembled a heathen temple 
 rather than a Christian church; and considering the 
 history of its builder and its peculiar structure it is 
 generally called the Tempio Malatesta. The tomb of 
 [8i] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Sigismondo, who died in 1468, is most elaborate, as is 
 also that of the clever and unscrupulous Isotta, for 
 many years the mistress of this fierce tyrant, but 
 afterward his wife. The elephant as the emblem of 
 the Malatesta, and the rose of Isotta form a con- 
 spicuous and characteristic part of the decorations of 
 these two elaborate monuments. 
 
 One would suppose that Rimini's beautiful situa- 
 tion on the Adriatic, surrounded by sunny hills and 
 smiling valleys, cooled by the sea breezes and made 
 livable by its fertile country, would have been rather 
 the home of a great and good man; but the Malatesta 
 tyrants, especially Sigismondo, are spoken of by men 
 of that time, and by modern historians, as the most 
 hideous of evildoers. The great church containing 
 these tombs of his wife and himself, as well as those 
 of many of the scholars and learned men who visited 
 his court, strikes me as an ingenious curiosity rather 
 than as a beautiful building. The arch of Augustus, 
 which is really fine, and the five-arched bridge of 
 Tiberius are worthy and interesting ruins of the time 
 when Rimini was a Roman colony in B.C. 268, and 
 was extended and embellished by Julius Caesar and 
 Augustus. 
 
 Rimini belonged to the famous five maritime cities 
 (Pentapolis Maritima), which were ruled over by one 
 governor, and included Pesaro, Fano, Senigallia, and 
 Ancona. During the thirteenth century the lords 
 of Verucchio (this same Guelph family of Malatesta) 
 made themselves masters of the city and surrounding 
 country. They were consistent and difficult enemies 
 of the popes, and maintained their violent sway for 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 several generations, but in the end their lands passed 
 to the papal see in 1528. There is in the town a 
 stone pedestal about which there are a good many 
 different opinions, but this is supposed to have been 
 placed by Sigismondo in restoration of a former land- 
 mark commemorating Caesar's passage of the Rubicon. 
 Near it is a chapel where dear Sant' Antonio once 
 preached, and there is still another on the canal, which 
 is said to mark the spot where the holy man preached 
 to the fishes because the people refused to hear him. 
 
 The Municipio is in the main square of the town, 
 and we were immensely interested in the famous 
 tapestries that we saw in this old palace, belonging 
 originally, so I am told, to the family of the Gamba- 
 lunga. They are of great antiquity and real artistic 
 worth. I asked permission to take photographs, and 
 was brusquely refused by an under-official, but per- 
 severing in my request to the next man in authority, 
 who applied to the sindaco (mayor) in person, I was 
 not only allowed to photograph the tapestries, but the 
 mayor came himself to assist me with my camera, 
 and I promised to send him replicas of my pictures. 
 When I had finished, he courteously bowed me out to 
 the door, to the discomfiture of the rude individual 
 who had previously refused me. 
 
 The great "rocca" (fortress) of the Malatesta 
 here is in a very dilapidated condition, and is used 
 now only as a local prison; the amphitheatre is of no 
 special interest, for it is but a heap of ruins. 
 
 To the average person I think Rimini is closely 
 associated with the sad story of Francesca and her 
 ruthless murder by her husband, Giovanni Malatesta, 
 [83] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 called Lo Sciancato (The Lame), which accords per- 
 fectly with the other stories and ideas that one forms 
 on coming here of the Malatesta family. But Fran- 
 cesca seems to me to be much more closely identified 
 with her home and family in Ravenna, where all of 
 her life was passed, except the short period after her 
 marriage. I think, on the whole, that Isotta, who 
 seems a sort of mediaeval "Becky Sharp," presents the 
 most interesting of Rimini's characters, and I mean 
 to find a book about her in the town, or during my 
 stay in Italy, if possible. All things considered, 
 Rimini is I think rather an anti-climax after Urbino 
 — perhaps because of the grewsome stories of the 
 Malatesta — but I am thoroughly glad to have seen 
 it, and should advise anyone to come here. The 
 modern city, like all the smaller Italian cities, is making 
 great strides toward commercial and industrial im- 
 provement. There is a large ship-building yard, the 
 fisheries are extensive, and there are silk manufactories. 
 In any event, since so attractive an hotel has been 
 established, more and more people, Italians and for- 
 eigners, will probably come here. 
 
 This evening Count Visconti di San Vito came over 
 to the hotel and was presented to me. He showed 
 me pictures of his elaborate villa at Crescenzago near 
 Milan, where he has extensive silk works, and amuses 
 himself with the cultivation of bees. He is an indefati- 
 gable bicyclist, and gave me several pictures of him- 
 self, his favorite dog, and his villa, where he has asked 
 us to come later on in the autumn. Count Pasolini, 
 of the well-known Ravenna family of that name, is 
 another of the visitors who come in evenings from the 
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D.c:0 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 villas around about. He is a distinguished and culti- 
 vated man. Duchess Mariannawas looking particularly 
 well this evening in a white Worth gown. You remem- 
 ber that model with the Greek outlining of embroidery 
 in gold. It suited the Duchess' slender figure very 
 well, and with her bright empire-green scarf and big 
 black hat, would have made an effective costume 
 for a portrait. Before coming upstairs we went once 
 more to the little Sala Edison, and saw the wonderful 
 results of our great American's invention. They have 
 carried the picture-taking to an extent where all the 
 dreams of the children's fairy-tale are realized, and 
 dolls seem to hop out of goose eggs and disappear 
 into sticks. The Duke seemed much interested in 
 my telling him of father's long and intimate acquaint- 
 ance with Mr. Edison, and how he first was persuaded 
 of the success of the phonograph by hearing his own 
 conversation with Mr. Edison repeated to him just as 
 he was leave-taking from the great man's studio. 
 
 Prince Giovanni Torlonia has gone on to Rome. 
 The automobile race at Bologna is over. Those who 
 went up to the city came back looking wearied and 
 worn to a thread. The prospect of rising at three 
 in the morning, and sitting through a possibly very 
 hot day, to see hundreds of whizzing machines, followed 
 by awful dust clouds, did not particularly appeal either 
 to F. B. or me. The Duke and Duchess did not go, 
 and Donna Imogene said she much preferred to stay 
 and go with me on some of our excursions. It was 
 rather nice, however, that the FIAT came out so 
 triumphantly, and Vincenzo, I am sure, is crowing 
 over all the other chaufi^eurs in the garage. It is nice, 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 too, that there were so few accidents, though there 
 must have been a great deal of damage to those 
 machines that tumbled into the deep ditches that are 
 on both sides of the roads around Bologna. It seems 
 to me those ditches should be fenced off, or some 
 device arranged for the protection of vehicles, for they 
 are certainly very dangerous. 
 It is rather late, so 
 
 Good-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rimini, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 All good things must come to an end, and so we 
 feel that we must leave dear Rimini. Yesterday 
 morning Marianna Visconti and her five children 
 departed for Milan. The Duke and Duchess are going 
 up to Paris for a few days, and Marianna has taken 
 several addresses from me. I think it is always so 
 difficult to recommend places for shopping to other 
 people, and I do hope the immortal Creed will do well 
 by her. The Marchesa Visconti-Ermes with her dear 
 little boy, who has been with us on numerous excur- 
 sions, is also making plans for leaving. The Countess 
 Visconti and her family go in a few days, so I have 
 asked Imogene Colonna to go up as far as Bologna 
 with us, but I cannot persuade the Prince to join us. 
 Don Marcantonio has a horror of automobiles, and re- 
 fuses to enter one. He says that he has nothing against 
 the poor machines, but unspeakable things against the 
 people who drive them; consequently, he and his little 
 son, Giachino, will go by train and meet Donna Imo- 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 gene at the station in Bologna, whence they go to 
 Padova, and on to their villa near by. I feel that I 
 know Imogene very well after all our pleasant days 
 together, and I am sure I shall enjoy my visit with 
 her very much, later. We are planning to go from 
 here by way of Ravenna, and Imogene is to be our 
 "cicerone" (guide) for the day. I have many good- 
 byes to say, and many things to do; all excuses for 
 a short letter. 
 Love. 
 
 T. 
 
 [87] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ^Emilia, Bologna, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 THE unpleasantness of partings and saying 
 good-byes was very much lessened by the 
 numerous bunches of lovely flowers which 
 the children presented me on leaving 
 Rimini, and it was extremely nice also to have Donna 
 Imogene go with us. We felt much more as if we 
 were going on one of our many **gite" (excursions) 
 than as if we were leave-taking from our friends, and 
 the place where we have enjoyed so much. 
 
 The road from Rimini to Ravenna skirts the sea- 
 shore and is most attractive, though Don Marcan- 
 tonio told us as a parting menace that there were six 
 (I think it was) "passagi a livello" (railroad crossings). 
 Fortunately, the trains were either on time or very 
 late, for the gateman of each crossing let us by. The 
 coastline of Italy is ever changing, and where the sea 
 has receded there are now extensive salt works. On 
 nearing Ravenna we had a complete and beautiful 
 view of the great pine forest (la pineta) of Ravenna, 
 which is as beautiful, unique, and majestic as Dante 
 would have us believe, and situated as it is, far from 
 the city, on the edge of the misty marshes, one can 
 easily imagine that the murmur of the great spreading 
 branches might seem to tell the story of Ravenna's 
 mad love, as well as of the tragedies and triumphs of 
 which this famous city has been the scene. 
 
 Majestic, stately, and sombre are the tall pines of 
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 this poetic, yet fatal forest, their stems rise tall and 
 strong like the pillars of a great basilica, and at the 
 top their branches spread out broad and heavy till 
 they meet, forming an almost solid roof of shade. 
 Standing in vast, dark lines on the seashore, flanked 
 on both sides by green marshes, with the old pic- 
 turesque Basilica of Sant' Appollinare in Classe not 
 far away, they make indeed a beautiful picture that 
 Dante may well have recalled in his Paradiso terrestre. 
 
 "Tal, qual di ramo in ramo si raccoglie 
 Per la pineta in sul lito di Chiassi, 
 Quand' Eolo Scirocco fuor discioglie." 
 
 Even as from branch to branch it gathering swells, 
 Through the pine forests on the shore of Chiassi, 
 When iEolus unlooses the Scirocco. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Ravenna has been called *'The City of the Love 
 Drama." Nastagio degli Onesti is scorned by the 
 beautiful but haughty daughter of Paola Traversari and 
 rushes off, first with the idea of self-destruction, and 
 afterwards seeks to drown his sorrow and disappoint- 
 ment in a life of wild excesses. Weakness and remorse 
 follow his feasting and revelry, and wandering one 
 day in this very pineta, he seems to hear a sudden 
 rushing in the trees, follov/ed by a shriek of distress. 
 A woman of surpassing beauty, naked, and with stream- 
 ing hair, is rushing toward him for help, while two fierce 
 hounds pursue her. As Onesti is about to offer his 
 protection, a black knight rides up on blacker steed, 
 ordering him to stand off; for, "With the sword where- 
 with I slew myself," he shrieks, "I must give this 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 wretch the martyrdom she inflicted upon me, derid- 
 ing my love and my despair." With that, as the story 
 runs, the knight rushes upon his victim and cuts out 
 her heart, but the wound heals by magic, the heart is 
 renewed, and the phantom chase begins afresh. There 
 is a grewsome painting descriptive of this scene, which 
 places the combat and the persecution in a garden of 
 a villa where a feast is being given. The story that the 
 heart renews itself is another way of saying the same 
 old story; the one loved, the other loving though 
 scorned. Daphne fleeing from Apollo, and the coun- 
 try swain disdained by the haughty village maid, are 
 all the same to the end of time; but many great peo- 
 ple, men and women, whose lives have made history, 
 seem to have sought and lost both their loves and 
 lives in this fatal city of Ravenna! 
 
 On the coins is written, "Ravenna felix," but Boc- 
 caccio speaks of the city as bathed in the blood of 
 martyrs. Attila, seeking to win the beautiful Hono- 
 ria, shatters the peace of the Roman Empire; Hono- 
 ria's love for her chamberlain brings him to his death. 
 Rosamond bribes Almachild to slay her husband, and 
 with her guilty lover seeks refuge in Ravenna, where 
 she poisons her lover, and he her. In later days, the 
 love of Francesca for her husband's brother makes 
 Giovanni Malatesta a fratricide, and the love for the 
 marvellously beautiful Samaritana, brings about the 
 downfall of Antonio della Scala; and finally, Byron, 
 mad with passion, pursues the Countess Guiccioli, 
 only to leave her and die in Greece. In Ravenna the 
 Caesars, the Roman Empire, the barbarian kings, 
 the Goths, and Exarchs — all pass away, and later, 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Dante Alighieri, despondent and unhappy, finishes 
 here his exile from his beloved Florence, completes 
 the greatest of his poems, and dies. In the Middle 
 Ages, Francesco Maria della Rovere of Urbino slays 
 in Ravenna the infamous Cardinal Francesco Ali- 
 dosio. But soon come the armies of Julius II and 
 Ferdinand of Spain, fighting against those of Louis 
 XII of France, and Alfonso of Este, whose armies win 
 the great battle that imposes a new term of foreign 
 rule upon the fateful city. We saw on the way to 
 Ravenna, on the bank of the river Ronco, the column 
 of Gaston de Foix, who died at this battle the eleventh 
 of April, 15 12, where twenty thousand soldiers lost 
 their lives. Ariosto, who is said to have been present, 
 speaks of the battle in the following way: 
 
 "lo venni dove le campagne rosse 
 eran del sangue barbaro e latino 
 che fiera Stella dianzi a furor mosse." 
 
 I came where the broad fields 
 were red with the blood, alike of 
 Latin and barbarian, whose destinies 
 a fierce star seems to have guided. 
 
 After this battle the French ruthlessly pillaged 
 and plundered the beautiful city. It seems that 
 this great, swaying, ever-increasing forest is an instru- 
 ment in the hands of Fate to mark events that are of 
 real moment to the world, for it was here that 
 the great Garibaldi made his remarkable retreat from 
 Rome, only to have his exhausted wife die in his 
 arms, 
 
 I have sent you a picture taken in the church of 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Sant' Appollinare in Classe on our first visit to Ravenna 
 several days ago, when the Marchesa Visconti-Ermes 
 and her son went with Imogene and me. That awful 
 Sigismondo Malatesta stripped the walls of this church 
 of their marbles for his great structure in Rimini, but 
 the spacious interior is rich in its beautiful proportions 
 and its twenty-four wonderful cipollino columns. In 
 the nave there is a remarkable altar which is said to 
 have been erected by Maximian, though some speak 
 of the altar as that of Sant' Eleucadius. It is beauti- 
 fully carved, and faces the great altar built over the 
 high crypt after the manner of the Roman basilica; 
 but most of the glories of the church have departed. 
 The apse, however, is adorned with sixth century 
 mosaics, and high up in the vault there is a great 
 jewelled cross surrounded by numberless golden stars 
 on a background of deepest azure. The solemn charm 
 of the interior of the church rather does away with, or 
 makes amends for, its somewhat melancholy exterior 
 and surroundings, and the round campanile standing 
 apart and by itself gives an entirely unique appearance 
 to the church. 
 
 We decided to stop at the old church of Santa 
 Maria in Porto Fuori, and have our picnic luncheon 
 under the big trees near by. Afterwards we went to 
 inspect the frescoes but recently disclosed from under 
 the whitewash of this old church, which has recently 
 been declared a national monument. 
 
 It was built in 1096 by Pietro degli Onesti, self- 
 named "II Peccatore"(The Sinner), and hither the angels 
 are supposed to have brought over the sea the image 
 of the Virgin, who has looked down for centuries on 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 numberless pilgrims, some of them, even, wearing the 
 papal tiara, and others the imperial crown. Dante 
 speaks of the church: 
 
 "In quel loco fu' io Pier Damiano 
 E Pietro peccator fui nella casa 
 Di Nostra Donna in sul lito Adriano." 
 
 In that place I was Pier Damiano 
 
 And Peter the Sinner I was in the house 
 
 Of Our Lady on the shores of the Adriatic. 
 
 The campanile rests upon another large square 
 structure, which tradition believes to have once been 
 a lighthouse. 
 
 The frescoes are really lovely. That supposed to 
 be the portrait of Francesca of Polenta and her 
 cloistered sister, Chiara, were most interesting to 
 me. Francesca's face is mild and beautiful, and she 
 seems to be looking over the balcony for Paolo, whom 
 Boccaccio tells us she had been tricked into believing 
 to be her future husband — which makes her story all 
 the more poetic and sad. In another part of the church 
 there are supposed portraits of Dante and the famous 
 Guido da Polenta, Francesca's father. The paintings 
 have something of the mystic interest of Giotto, but 
 painters of the Romagnola school are supposed to have 
 been the artists. 
 
 After making numerous children wildly happy with 
 our odds and ends of cake and sugar-plums, we went 
 up the road along a canal bordered by tall poplars, 
 which seemed as deserted as the church we had just 
 visited. 
 
 [93] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 It was only five kilometres back to Ravenna, and 
 there is so much of interest there, so many beautiful 
 and unusual things, that I shall only briefly speak of 
 those which particularly interested and appealed to 
 me, for to do this great and ancient city justice one 
 would need several volumes. 
 
 But little remains of all these ancient palaces of 
 Ravenna except the things it was impossible for the 
 succession of conquering soldiers to carry off. The old 
 early Roman mosaics of the time of Theodoric in the 
 church of Sant' Appollinare Nuovo are very beautiful. 
 In the marvellous mosaics of San Vitale, which was 
 built under the direction of the treasurer of the Em- 
 peror Justinian, one has not only a picture of the 
 glories of the luxurious magnificence of the Byzantine 
 court, but a detailed idea of the robes and jewels and 
 mode of dress of the period of 534 a.d. 
 
 When Sarah Bernhardt produced her great play of 
 *' Theodora," she came to Ravenna to study these 
 mosaics, and her costumes and those of her company 
 were modelled from them. On one side are the great 
 mosaics of the Emperor Justinian in purple, crowned 
 with the imperial diadem, offering gold in a large 
 basin for the construction of the temple, surrounded 
 by his soldiers and Julian the Treasurer, San Maxi- 
 mianus; on the other, stands the Empress Theodora 
 and the ladies of her court, in embroidered robes and 
 jewels. They are made to seem like the setting of 
 fresh colors; the blaze of the gold is intensified under 
 the vault of the apse, which seems from the light above 
 to kindle into flames behind the altar of precious 
 alabaster — as one writer says, "Where enamel and 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 mother-of-pearl sing in high, clear notes above the 
 subdued harmony of porphyries and serpentines." 
 
 In the early days of Christianity baptism by im- 
 mersion was the only form acknowledged, and conse- 
 quently many times the thermal chamber of the 
 Roman baths was converted into a baptistery. It was 
 the act, and not the place, which in those days was 
 considered, and from the banks of the rivers the cere- 
 mony could be transferred to the Thermae. Special 
 buildings were afterward assigned for this sacrament, 
 or existing ones used to advantage, which explains the 
 typical form of the baptistery, usually an octagonal 
 building, with the cistern in the centre for immersion; 
 and it is probable that in Ravenna's elegant little 
 Baptistery with its beautiful mosaics, Francesca and 
 all the other wonderful children of the city were bap- 
 tized. 
 
 We found few pictures to interest us in the museum 
 of fine arts, but the statue of the beautiful and tragic 
 Guidarello Guidarelli, "dear at once to Mars and to 
 Minerva," as his inscription reads, is one of the most 
 beautiful of Lombardi's sculptures. His face seems 
 still to wear the expression of suffering bespeaking his 
 violent and tragic death at Imola, where he is sup- 
 posed to have been treacherously murdered by Paolo 
 Orsini. The mouth is half open and the hands pressed 
 to his breast with the sword that has made him famous, 
 while the eyes are closed heavily as if in an effort to 
 end the intolerable anguish. This is the greatest 
 work of the Renaissance left in Ravenna, and one 
 of the most pathetic of that tempestuous period. 
 
 The palace of Theodoric has been stripped of all 
 
 [95] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 its beauties save a few delicate columns and decorative 
 arches, but although this building is not regarded as 
 having formed more than an outer building to the 
 Royal Palace, it is still an original and interesting monu- 
 ment to all students of art. It was probably once 
 surrounded by porticos and stood among gardens, 
 adorned with precious marbles and frescoes, many of 
 which, in the year 774, Charlemagne carried off with 
 the consent of Pope Adrian I to Aix-Ia-Chapelle. 
 Theodoric died execrated by the orthodox church, not 
 so much for his Arian beliefs as for the cruel perse- 
 cutions attending the closing years of his life. But 
 the Roman mausoleum shows that the spirit of the 
 Teuton had been transformed by contact with Italian 
 culture. This tomb, with its great unequalled monolith 
 on top, measuring one hundred seven feet in circum- 
 ference, is a fitting reminder of this man of strength, 
 power, and cruelty. The story goes that it was fore- 
 told that Theodoric would die by lightning, and he 
 consequently built this mausoleum, and roofed it with 
 this huge stone, that he might take refuge there when- 
 ever a thunderstorm threatened. But relentless Fate 
 sent the thunderbolt, split the block, and struck the 
 great king dead. It is certain, however, that Theo- 
 doric was not allowed to rest long in the tomb he had 
 prepared for himself, and in which he probably thought 
 the royal line of his successors would repose, for his 
 body was secretly removed and buried, no one is 
 quite sure where. As late as 1854 a beautiful gold 
 ornament set with garnets was broken into fragments 
 by workmen clearing a canal, and nearly every year 
 brings some buried treasure to light. 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Ravenna seems to me the one town that I have seen 
 in Italy in which there is no modern touch, no modern 
 awakening to new interest; but the very mediaeval 
 atmosphere of its streets and its buildings, the beauty 
 of its ancient mosaics in the church of San Vitale 
 and the Baptistery, the dignified and sombre tomb 
 of the great Dante, the poetical associations and 
 vast interest of the past history of the town, make it 
 quite easy to understand why Lord Byron preferred 
 Ravenna to all other towns of Italy, whether he were 
 in love with the Countess Guiccioli or not. 
 
 It is already arranged that I shall go to visit Imo- 
 gene after our visit to Bologna and Venice. I left 
 her at the station, and went to the school of the Bologna 
 laces (iEmilia Ars) to meet Countess Cavazza, who 
 had asked me to come there, as she was in Bologna 
 for only a few hours to-day. It was very nice to see 
 her again, and I greatly enjoyed going over this alto- 
 gether remarkable school which she has founded, and 
 worked for so successfully and intelligently. The most 
 complete system prevails, each piece of work being 
 numbered, as well as each design. Every girl takes 
 to her home a given number of metres of thread, of 
 which she must give complete and careful account 
 with the work rendered. Countess Zucchini, Madame 
 Chantre, about whom I wrote you at Gressoney, and 
 other ladies of Bologna spend several mornings of 
 each week in giving out and criticising the work. An 
 elaborate system of bookkeeping and auditing is 
 directed by the ladies, and already the work of 
 the school is being sought for in Paris and London, 
 while those who took stock in the little company are 
 [97] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 beginning to realize small but ever-increasing dividends. 
 Countess Cavazza taught the first girls herself, for she 
 is one of the most expert needlewomen in Italy, and has 
 devoted a great deal of time to studying out old lace 
 designs in the museums throughout the country. 
 
 I am going to the school again, and Countess Ca- 
 vazza, although in mourning, has very kindly asked 
 me to spend the day at her country castle near here, 
 day after to-morrow. To-morrow her son, whom you 
 remember I just missed seeing in New York last year, 
 is coming to take me about the city. 
 
 This is a long letter, but not nearly as long as that 
 I should have to write, if I told you even a part 
 of all the good times and many lovely things I am 
 seeing these happy days. 
 
 Good-night. Love to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 Bologna, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have just returned from a call upon Countess 
 Aldrovandi. I sent my card yesterday, and a big 
 bunch of orchids and white roses came this morning with 
 a note of welcome which also asked us to call to-day. 
 
 You liked Aldrovandi in New York, and I am sure 
 you would like his lovely mother, who is a woman of 
 great distinction and graceful charm. Her voice is 
 like a song, and her smile, though a trifle sad, is so 
 gentle and sweet that I felt at home with her at once. 
 She offered us a dainty glass of rare old wine with 
 some sweet Italian cakes, and had her two little 
 granddaughters come in to see us. On the table was 
 
Taken by Mrs. Balchell, r 
 
 SALON OF PALAZZO ALDROVANDI, BOLOGNA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 her son's picture, and we had a nice talk about 
 Aldrovandi's success in his Venezuelan mission, which, 
 however, caused the fond mother much anxiety, as 
 the . papers here represent Castro as being, what I 
 suppose he really is, rather impossible. Her daughter, 
 the mother of the two darlings, is away at Baden- 
 Baden for the summer, but I hope so much to see her 
 in the fall, when we expect to return — for all roads 
 lead to Bologna in Italy, whether you go in or out. 
 
 The Aldrovandi palace is very handsome. The 
 staircase is majestic, and the furniture in the rooms 
 is of that elaborately carved, gilded Baroque period. 
 The dear Countess is rather an invalid, but is going 
 with me to San Petronio one day to show me herself 
 the famous Aldrovandi chapel, built by Cardinal 
 Aldrovandi, whose tomb is there. When the chapel 
 was finished the cardinal (Pompeo Aldrovandi) wished 
 to take there the body of San Petronio (Patron 
 Saint of Bologna) from the church of San Stefano, 
 but great objections were made by the priests of that 
 church. The matter was referred to the Pope, and 
 ultimately the Cardinal removed the head of the 
 holy man with papal permission to the Aldrovandi 
 chapel, where it now is, and for many years on the 
 saint's day a procession of priests carried the head 
 of San Petronio to rejoin its body in the church of 
 San Stefano, solemnly replacing it at night amid the 
 splendors of the Aldrovandi chapel; but the Countess 
 tells me this custom has been discontinued. It is 
 interesting to remember that under a canopy of the 
 choir of San Petronio the great Charles V of Spain was 
 crowned emperor by Pope Clement VII February 24, 
 [99] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 1530, this being the last occasion on which a German 
 emperor was crowned in Italy. Charles, like Napoleon 
 who followed him, placed the crown on his own head. 
 
 I shall write much more of "Countess Aldrovandi 
 later, for we have made many plans already to see 
 one another often. 
 
 Love. 
 
 t. 
 
 Bologna, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 How very little things in our lives sometimes lead 
 to pleasures and unexpected happenings a long time 
 afterward ! 
 
 When we were in Rome three years ago I met 
 Countess Cavazza at the dinner which the Marchese 
 de Viti gave for Joachim, and Count Cavazza sat next 
 me. Afterward, in the evening, you remember I sang 
 and Joachim played with the Mendelssohns, and so 
 forth. Countess Cavazza said some very sweet things 
 about my voice, and we had quite a little talk during 
 the reception which followed the music, but the party 
 was large, we both met many friends, and as I was 
 waiting for my carriage, I remember, feeling rather dis- 
 appointed that I had not h$id a chance to say good- 
 night to the attractive lady from Bologna. Just then 
 a belaced and befurred person stepped by me, and was 
 about to enter her carriage when she spied me, turned 
 and came to where I was standing, with the charming 
 grace that is characteristic of her, saying, "I am so 
 glad to find you again! If you ever come to Bologna 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 I hope you will surely let me know, for I shall be 
 delighted to welcome you.'* 
 
 I was much disappointed not to have been able to 
 entertain the Countess' son, Filippo, when he came 
 with the geological congress to America last year, but 
 by the merest chance, and by the misunderstanding 
 of a friend, I missed him in New York. This morning, 
 however, he came to call, laden with a huge bunch of 
 flowers, which have made the sombre room of this 
 queer old palace, fixed up as a hotel, bright and really 
 quite livable. Cavazza proposed seeing some of the 
 interesting things in the town, and we started out first 
 to see the exquisite Francia painting in the Benti- 
 voglio chapel in the church of San Giacomo Maggiore. 
 The monument of Antonio Bentivoglio is wonderfully 
 fine, and is the work of Jacopo della Quercia, the man 
 who was so sure of getting the prize, and of doing the 
 baptistery gates in Florence; but he was destined to 
 see the goldsmith Ghiberti win in his place. Delia 
 Quercia had splendid consolation, however, for the 
 great central doors of Bologna cathedral, San Pe- 
 tronio, have made him duly famous and brought him 
 lasting honor. We greatly enjoyed the paintings of 
 Francia and Lorenzo Costa in the Oratorio of Santa 
 Cecilia, but I much prefer the Francia pictures. 
 
 So few people seem to stay long in Bologna, yet 
 to me it is the most unique and one of the most de- 
 lightful cities of Italy! There is a special atmosphere 
 here, perhaps due to the numbers of students at the 
 university — a university town has always a little 
 air of its own ; but the history of the city, so strong, 
 so self-willed, yet so buffeted about by an uneasy 
 
 [lOl] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Destiny, is to me fascinating in the extreme. I sup- 
 pose it is useless to say how old is Bologna, for the 
 Bolognese claim their city to be of more ancient date 
 than even Rome. Certainly the Ligurians and Etrus- 
 cans are quite far away enough to satisfy my desires, 
 and ancient Rome appreciated the value of Bologna's 
 central position just over the Apennines, overlooking 
 the vast and fertile plain, for it made the city one 
 of the great Roman headquarters. During the Middle 
 Ages the Bolognese were made subject for a time to 
 different local and foreign families — the Pepoli, the 
 Zambeccari, the Milan despots, Visconti; later the city 
 was subdued and ruled by the Bentivoglio family; 
 finally, tired of oppression, the people of the town 
 *' jumped from the frying-pan into the fire " and gave 
 themselves over to the Church, against which they re- 
 belled frequently, but were freed from papal subjection 
 only when Napoleon I united Bologna to the kingdom 
 of Italy. 
 
 You remember Elisa Bonaparte was married to 
 Felice Baciocchi, and I dare say you recall seeing with 
 me her monument in San Petronio. In all, the city 
 has survived about one hundred and ten governments, 
 and yet, no sooner was it united with modern Italy 
 in 1859 than it began to assume once more its indus- 
 tries and progress. 
 
 The strange church, or collection of churches which 
 go under the name of San Stefano, is most interesting. 
 The so-called second church, or Santo Sepolcro, looks 
 as if it had been originally intended for a baptistery, 
 and contains the tomb of San Petronio, which dates 
 from the twelfth century; but the Romanesque basilica 
 [ 102 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of SS. Pietro e Paolo dates from the fourth century, and 
 contains the sarcophagus of the martyr San VitaHs, 
 which is ornamented by a cross and two peacocks, 
 the early Christian emblem of immortality; while in 
 another place the Lombard king Luitprand (744 a.d.) 
 is mentioned on an inscription. The combination of 
 these eight churches, so diiferent in architecture, so 
 distant one from the other in point of time, is like a 
 mystical labyrinth of shrines and altars, each decorated 
 according to the age in which it was built, and I was 
 almost startled by coming suddenly upon the life-size 
 figures in painted terra cotta, representing the adora- 
 tion of the magi, in one of the many chapels. Another 
 turn, and we descended some steps to the old Roman- 
 esque "confessio," or crypt, until I really did not know 
 which way to go, or how we were ever to reach the 
 street again, for we seemed to have stepped down and 
 out of the world of the twentieth century into the 
 dimly lighted mystical tombs of the shadowy past. 
 Cavazza proved a fine guide, however, and we were 
 soon in Italy's bright sunshine once again. 
 
 Just as we were to be whirled off in the machine, 
 a very grand policeman stepped up to the car, and 
 said he should like to know by what right we were 
 "circulating" in Bologna (this with an added air of 
 importance) without the regulation "piombo" (lead). 
 As I had never heard of a "piombo," I was at a loss 
 how to respond. Most unfortunately, F. B. had left 
 our touring club regulation papers, allowing us to 
 "circulate" in Italy for three months, etc., at the 
 hotel, whereupon "Mr. Grand Policeman" announced 
 that he should arrest us. I foresaw long delays, cross 
 [103] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 judges, and was anything but comfortable, when 
 Cavazza came to the rescue. He explained that we 
 were his friends, that he and his father would be re- 
 sponsible for us, and that hereafter we should surely 
 have the papers, and so on. Count Cavazza senior 
 has much too high a position in Bologna to be .ques- 
 tioned by any policeman; but all the same we had to 
 solemnly promise to send Vincenzo with all the regu- 
 lation documents to the Municipio before two o'clock. 
 The policeman was young, tall, and tremendously 
 self-important, and he looked thoroughly disappointed 
 not to be able to carry us off, or let us carry him, 
 rather, to the station to be punished properly like 
 careless children. As a matter of fact, we were per- 
 fectly innocent, and had taken the greatest care to 
 have our papers strictly made out at Paris; but it 
 seems that it is customary, though not obligatory, for 
 the customs officials to affix a seal of lead to a part 
 of the guiding wheel on every automobile, to show to 
 all inquisitive government officials that the car is well 
 within the ruling regulations of Italy. Fortunately, 
 we had not planned to do any more sight-seeing in 
 the city, and Cavazza directed Vincenzo out through 
 the narrow Via Mazzini along the road which leads 
 to Florence. We had gone but a short distance when 
 the car swung into a great gateway and rounded one 
 curve after another of a beautiful natural park, made 
 picturesque by the noble pines — not the Italian pine, 
 but the pine as we know it in America. Indeed, this 
 is the first park we have seen at all like ours at home. 
 Here and there a statue of Pan or some other deity 
 of the forest was appropriately placed, and the broad, 
 [104] 
 
VILLA CROCE DEL BIACCO 
 
 Belonging to Count M alvezzi de'' Medici near 
 
 Bologna 
 
 VILLA HERCOLANI-BELPOGGIO, BOLOGNA 
 
 B el n gi 71 g to P r i 7i c e A storr e II e re olani 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 well-kept avenue, cooled by the soft perfumed breezes 
 of the pines, brought us quickly to the door of the 
 famous and beautiful Villa Belpoggio, to me one of 
 the most attractive of the villas in Italy. 
 
 It was built originally by the Bentivoglio in the 
 latter part of the fifteenth century, and commands a 
 fine view of the city; for the word "poggio," meaning 
 hill, is very often suffixed to the names of villas. Bel- 
 poggio has the same significance in regard to Bologna 
 in that famous book of Sabbadino degli Arienti, "Delle 
 Clare Donne" (The Illustrious Women), that the 
 famous Villa Palmieri near Florence has in the "Deca- 
 merone"; for it was to Ginevra Sforza, who became the 
 wife of Giovanni II Bentivoglio, that the great humanist 
 dedicated his book. Certainly this beautiful woman 
 had most lovely surroundings for the development of 
 her wit and culture. The villa is rather older than 
 many of the summer palaces of my friends, though it 
 was remodelled by a prince of the house of Hercolani, 
 into whose possession it came in the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. Its plain, straight lines, with the two towers 
 at each end, and the immense coat-of-arms in the 
 centre, give a majestic and stately appearance that is 
 greatly enhanced by its elevated situation and its 
 beautiful setting of forest trees. 
 
 The young owner of the estate. Prince Astorre 
 Hercolani, gave us a graceful welcome, and helped me 
 to take many photographs of his beautiful villa, in- 
 viting us afterward on to the terrace, where we had 
 a splendid view of Bologna and the broad plain of 
 iEmilia beyond. 
 
 Prince Hercolani is quite different from any of the 
 L105] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Italians I have met. He is tall, finely built, with 
 clear-cut features, and resembles, it seems to me, the 
 members of the Royal House of Savoy, especially the 
 Duke of the Abruzzi, to whom he is related, and 
 the Royal Princes often visit him. The greater part 
 of his schooling has been in England; consequently his 
 English is remarkably pure and correct. He invited 
 us into the villa, and we greatly enjoyed seeing his 
 exquisite statue of Canova representing Venus and 
 Cupid, made by the great sculptor for the Prince's 
 grandmother. Cavazza told me that Prince Hercolani 
 was very much admired and respected, but warned me 
 that he was very exclusive and rather of an "orso" 
 (bear) — this expression the Italians use very often for 
 a man who keeps much to himself; therefore I was 
 somewhat surprised when the Prince very naturally, 
 and evidently gladly, accepted Cavazza's invitation to 
 join our party this afternoon to his castle at San 
 Martino. We are to meet the Countess at the lace 
 school, where the Count and Prince Hercolani are to 
 join us. 
 
 Hercolani is one of Europe's proudest names, and 
 different members of the family have played impor- 
 tant parts in the history of Bologna and Italy. At 
 the battle of Pavia in 1525 it was one of the Hercolani 
 to whom Francis I of France surrendered his sword. 
 In 1485 a noble of this house was a Podesta in Perugia, 
 and in 1699 the Emperor of Austria conferred upon 
 Filippo Hercolani the title of High-born Prince of the 
 Holy Roman Empire. Each member of the family 
 has the right to the title of Count or Countess. 
 
 It is time for us to go. Au Revoir. T. 
 
 [106] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Bologna, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Count Cavazza has proved a friend in deed as well 
 as in need, for Vincenzo returned from the Muni- 
 cipio saying that all the difficulties about the auto- 
 mobile had been settled satisfactorily, and that we are 
 now free to go and come as we like. To make assur- 
 ance doubly sure, however, we started out armed with 
 all the automobile documents we possessed, and found 
 Countess Cavazza and her party waiting for us at 
 the dainty little shop of her lace school in the Via 
 Ugo Bassi. There was no time to-day, and I had 
 but a glimpse of the many lovely laces, dresses, cush- 
 ions, etc., that are made here so beautifully. I shall 
 have several things sent to Paris; among them a fan 
 of rare design, which is the only lace I have ever 
 seen sufficiently beautiful to put into the exquisite 
 enamelled sticks that Her Highness Princess Louisa 
 Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein was kind enough to 
 make for me. 
 
 The country of this province of ^Emilia is beauti- 
 ful now, and we greatly enjoyed the run to San Mar- 
 tino. On arriving at the castle we were met at the 
 entrance by the family priest, the next younger son, 
 Count Gian Luigi, and a handsome boy of fifteen whom 
 the Countess introduced as her baby. They all call 
 each other by their first names, so I shall speak of 
 them in that way to you, for convenience. Zizi, a 
 nickname for Gian Luigi, is a handsome young fellow 
 with light brown hair, and gray eyes that are bound 
 to make havoc with feminine hearts in due course of 
 [107] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 time. He is tall and well built, and has but recently 
 returned from some school in France. His linguistic 
 talents must be exceptional, for he has picked up Eng- 
 lish by himself, and talked very well to F. B., who 
 likes him immensely. 
 
 The Castle Cavazza is the oddest mixture of modern 
 comfort and mediaeval fascination that it has ever 
 been my good fortune to see; for it is hardly possible 
 to term a machicolated walled castle, that one enters 
 by a portcullis, a villa. I was like a child in a fairy- 
 book, and felt an irrepressible longing to open every 
 door of the spacious courtyard with its picturesque 
 Bolognese arcades. In good time my kind hostess 
 gratified my wish, and numerous salons with splen- 
 did old fireplaces, ornamented with cinquecento irons, 
 rare tapestries and pictures; sitting-rooms with sofas 
 generously supplied with dainty bits of the Bolognese 
 lace cushions; spacious, sunny guest-rooms with fine 
 bathrooms, electric bells, and all modern conveniences 
 were, one after another, disclosed to satisfy my curi- 
 osity. Miles from the nearest town, these comforts 
 seemed to be the work of a magician; but practi- 
 cal questioning, and a trip over the castle with the 
 Countess, brought out the fact that one tower hides 
 the electric batteries, another a stove to heat the water 
 in the tank close at hand; while other mysteries are 
 equally simple when once unravelled. 
 
 The castle was built in the fifteenth century, and 
 as we mounted the main tower to get the beautiful 
 view over the vast fertile plain, we could decipher on 
 the walls markings commemorative of the advance 
 and seizure of Bologna in 1506 by Pope Julius II. 
 [108I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Every year in October, on a given saint's day, 
 come the farmers from far and near, and on the broad, 
 smooth lawns surrounding the castle, estabhsh a great 
 fair, similar to what we in America would term a cattle 
 show. Few country gentlemen of America would 
 grant their lawns and carefully tended gardens for 
 any such purpose, but in Europe tradition, and not 
 individual wish, takes precedence, and Count and 
 Countess Cavazza seem only too glad to act as amiable 
 patronesses for the country folk for miles around. 
 "Why do you let them come.?" I asked. "Oh, we 
 must, you know. The people around here have held 
 a 'fiera di bestiame' (animal fair) for centuries, and 
 they cannot change now," replied the Countess. 
 Fancy any place in our country being used for a cattle 
 show for fifty years, let alone centuries! 
 
 We in the New World are ever changing, almost 
 to the point of fickleness; but Europe is held back 
 by that mighty force, tradition. In America we have 
 the tradition of morals only; our customs have had 
 to adapt themselves to time and place, and who shall 
 say if our marvellous rush on the road of invention and 
 progress is the better for its rapidity, unshackled by 
 the chains of centuries of custom, and free from 
 the restraints of tradition! Too rapid progress is not 
 always improvement. Our Western minds, however, 
 have often jumped the barriers of the so-called impos- 
 sible, and the mad determination to succeed has made 
 Mother Necessity produce marvellous children, in many 
 ways. Nevertheless, Italy is more like us than any 
 other nation in the world, and for this reason: ever 
 since the earliest times Italy has been the world's 
 [ 109 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 treasure-house of soil and climate. To it have come 
 the peoples of all the earth; sometimes as friendly- 
 visitors, sometimes as conquering armies; but always 
 remaining for a time, leaving only to return. These 
 people have invariably intermarried with the Ital- 
 ians; the blue-eyed Norman with the dark Saracen in 
 Sicily; the fair Greek with the dark Roman in Rome; 
 the proud Austrian with the brilliant Italian beauty; 
 the Spaniard with the noblewoman of his own rank. 
 The vast armies quartered in various parts of the pen- 
 insula during its unparalleled history have brought 
 foreign customs, new blood, made new and often last- 
 ing ties in this land of sunshine; with the ultimate 
 result that there are many strains of blood from many 
 lands in the veins of the people to-day called Ital- 
 ians. All the world knows that children of mixed 
 races have the finest beauty and the quickest brains, 
 and I believe these facts to be the reason, largely, for 
 the exceptional brilliancy of the past, as well as of the 
 present-day Italian; for if Bologna of old produced 
 great men, has it not in our day given us Carducci and 
 Marconi ? 
 
 After all, are we not composite in America, even 
 those of us who count our ancestors' tombs in England ? 
 Do we not find that those same ancestors often mar- 
 ried Scotch women? Is not much of our New Eng- 
 land thrift due to our canny Scotch forebears? 
 
 People, I think, do not realize how much the Amer- 
 ican of to-day is essentially like his Italian contem- 
 porary. True, it is said of us in New England that 
 we feel that, to be really an American, our ancestors 
 must needs have come, if not actually in the dear old 
 [no] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ** Mayflower," at least in the next ship; but even so, 
 we Puritans are in the minority, and the men born in 
 Europe who have come here, with their way to make, 
 feel, and properly, that when that way is made, and 
 they are contributing their brains and their fortunes 
 to the good of the land of their adoption, they should 
 be reckoned good Americans also. Indeed, they are 
 so reckoned, respected, and honored, but they cannot 
 be quite the same as those whose ancestors bled and 
 died for liberty in 1776, and again for its maintenance 
 in 1861, though their children are in every sense the 
 children of America. The vast immigration that is 
 bringing to us men and women from many lands is 
 making us in America to a great extent what the 
 Italians have always been and certainly are: a race of 
 cosmopolites, with many customs from many sources, 
 many creeds and much tolerance, broad minds and 
 alert brains. The mother of Prince Hercolani was a 
 very beautiful Belgian noblewoman, while his father 
 counts his ancestry back for centuries in the history 
 of Bologna. The young Prince, however, was sent at 
 a very early age to school in England, and learned his 
 first words of Italian only when he returned at the age 
 of fifteen to complete his education at the Mondra- 
 gone College in Rome. What is the result.? A com- 
 posite character, broad, high, intellectual, tending to 
 Anglo-Saxon prejudices rather than to those of his 
 own country; a distinctly English bearing, but with 
 decidedly graceful Italian manners.^ All children are 
 
 ' This is only one example of the many marriages made by the Italian noble- 
 men with the women of birth, beauty, and wealth of Austria, Spain, England, 
 America, and other foreign countries. 
 
 [Ill] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 said to have their general point of view and main 
 habits of thought estabhshed between the years of 
 nine and fifteen, and I remember meeting in Rome 
 an elderly English gentleman, who apologized for his 
 broken English with the explanation that his boyhood 
 years were spent in Rome, where he spoke only Ital- 
 ian, which had never left his tongue free for his own 
 language. 
 
 I am very sorry that our limited time does not per- 
 mit us to accept the Countess' charming invitation 
 for a visit to this delightful castle later, but we hope 
 to come back, as she has so kindly urged, another 
 year. We had tea in one of the smaller, cosy rooms 
 of the castle, and the sweet Italian cakes and sugary 
 things that seem to form a part of all Italian teas 
 were especially toothsome. My friends seemed very 
 enthusiastic about my Gressoney pictures, and even 
 Prince Hercolani seemed to think them excellent; 
 indeed, the young nobleman seems very genial and 
 altogether charming — not at all stand-offish and 
 reserved, as Cavazza had intimated. 
 
 I took the "five o'clock" as a chance to ask about 
 Abetone, where I want so much to go, and the young 
 men not only told me all about it, but promised to be 
 our guides for a two days "gita" into the mountains. 
 After tea we went to see the beautiful little private 
 chapel of the castle, and the last door of the court- 
 yard was thus opened. The altar is decorated with 
 needlework copied from some ancient piece, discovered 
 by the Countess in her long and arduous lace and 
 embroidery studies. 
 
 We returned to Bologna at a much later hour than 
 
 [112] 
 
CASTELLO CAVAZZA AT SAN MARTINO 
 NEAR BOLOGNA 
 
 COURT OF CASTELLO CAVAZZA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 we had intended, and Zizi and Prince Hercolani came 
 to dinner, after which, in true Itahan fashion, the 
 men took us to a cafe for coffee and ices. To-morrow 
 we are off to Abetone, and I have telegraphed the 
 Marchesa de Viti de Marco of our proposed trip. As I 
 write, an invitation to dinner comes from her, though 
 her villa is still in progress of building. 
 
 Already many plans are being made for me by my 
 good friends when we return to this fascinating town. 
 
 We like the Hotel Baglioni very much, and I was 
 attracted to the name not from its Perugian fame, but 
 because of our nice courier of years ago. I shall not 
 write again until we return from our mountain trip to 
 Bologna. The hour is too small to inscribe, but is 
 beyond two. 
 
 T. 
 
 Bologna, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 Try to think of all the beautiful pine forests you 
 have ever seen, and then imagine them all put together 
 in the midst of high, high mountains, where the air is 
 rare and cool, and you will have a good idea of "The 
 place of the big pine," Abetone. 
 
 The journey from Bologna is most picturesque, 
 and skirts the border of the river Reno for a long dis- 
 tance. At Sasso the valley narrows, but broadens at 
 Vergato, the steep rocky peak of Mount Vigese rising 
 high above us. "Antonio" climbed bravely on, and 
 the air became fresher and crisper as we went higher 
 and higher. We passed Bagni della Poretta, near 
 [113] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 where the singer Bonci's villa is situated, and the road 
 led through a romantic and picturesque ravine from 
 the sides of which rushed, now a filmy veil of water, 
 now a wide, foaming torrent. The human element in 
 this bit of Nature's grandeur was given by a group of 
 peasants, each carrying a lighted candle, following the 
 robed priest over whose head was borne the canopy. 
 Some one near was very ill, my friends explained, and 
 the priest, followed by the sympathetic neighbors, 
 was going to administer the last sacrament. I begged 
 Vincenzo to wait until the solemn little company had 
 reached the house, but the kindly priest, hearing our 
 motor close behind, quietly led his little band to an 
 open place at one side of the road, and motioned to 
 us to go on. As we passed, the men's hats all came off, 
 and I felt a distinct desire to conform to the custom 
 of all Roman Catholic countries, and cross myself. 
 Respect for the dead — the passing of a funeral pro- 
 cession, or going by a cemetery — is always marked 
 by uncovering of the head by the men, while the 
 women make the sign of the cross. To me it seems a 
 most suitable and dignified custom. 
 
 At San Marcello Pistoiese (2045 feet) Hercolani 
 suggested tea, and while we were waiting for the "kettle 
 to boil" Cavazza went to see somebody about his geo- 
 logical interests, for he is a diligent student of his favor- 
 ite subject, as his room at the castle testified the other 
 day. Cavazza told us some of his American experi- 
 ences, and I asked the Prince when he was intending 
 to visit us in the New World, for he has travelled widely 
 over Europe. Cavazza at once proposed a wager 
 that Hercolani will never go to America. I at once 
 [114] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEA'TS 
 
 accepted it, and invited the Prince to come and see 
 us in the country, which he prefers, or town, if he comes 
 in winter. We shall see who wins. I surely hope 
 Destiny will be on my side. 
 
 Up, up we went, the mountains themselves seeming 
 to grow higher as we tried to climb to them. It was 
 twilight, and the lights on the mountains were beauti- 
 ful, while the sky caught all the sun's yellow rays, only 
 to make havoc of the colors and throw them down to 
 us in purple and pale pink tints. It was still, clear, and 
 cold; but we were well supplied with wraps, so on we 
 went, feasting our lungs on the bracing pine air and 
 our eyes on the great violet peaks around us. Of a 
 sudden we were rudely awakened to the prosaic real- 
 ities of a broken tire, but none of us seemed to mind 
 much, not even Vincenzo, who ordinarily detests being 
 a "gommista" (tire fixer); because, in spite of F. B.'s 
 protesting, both Cavazza and Hercolani insisted upon 
 helping; and Vincenzo was so flattered by the "illus- 
 trissimo ajuto graziosamente dato'! (illustrious help 
 graciously given) t"hat I think he took longer than usual. 
 
 Hercolani is as fond of Nature as I am, and al- 
 though he knows all this country well, he joined with 
 me in enthusiasm over the beauties of to-day's scenery. 
 During the last pumping and preparing to get under 
 way, he found for me a bunch of dainty mountain 
 erica, of which I have often read, but which I had 
 never seen before. The flowers are small, of a soft 
 pink color, clustered into a tiny spray, and altogether 
 lovely in shape and tint. 
 
 It was quite dark now, and we were obliged to 
 light all the lamps to see our w^ay; presently we dis- 
 [115] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 covered someone standing by the roadside, and on 
 reaching the place who should it be but the Marchesa 
 de Viti herself, bundled up in a shawl, waiting for us. 
 After an affectionate greeting to me, her compatriot, 
 she greeted the men, and we promised to hurry on to 
 the hotel, and to come back to her at eight for dinner. 
 It was only a little farther to the quaint Albergo, and 
 we hurried out of our motor clothes, and after a bit 
 of prinking and a look around the hotel, we went 
 down in the car to the Marchesa's villa. The open 
 fire in the big living-room was very welcome, and we 
 all did full justice to the excellent dinner. We had 
 some berries which look very much like our huckle- 
 berries at home, but with more of a pungent taste. 
 The Marchesa said that the people here thought her 
 very odd to eat them, but they seemed to her a bit 
 like home, and she asked '*if they appealed to me'* 
 (as Charles says at home). After dinner we talked 
 lace (you know the Marchesa has also a flourishing 
 school in the south of Italy), friends at home, and 
 books, with a crackling fire for a cosy accompani- 
 ment, and at a much later hour than we thought pos- 
 sible we betook ourselves to the car, and once at 
 the hotel, hied ourselves to bed, having promised 
 the Marchesa to lunch with her on the morrow, 
 and mutually agreeing to rise early to get the full 
 benefit of the views and of this gorgeous, invigorating 
 pine air. . . . Think of it. Mother! Breakfast came 
 in to me at 6.45 a.m., and I was already up drinking 
 whole lungfuls of this wonderful pine tonic, and feast- 
 ing my eyes on the distant mountains and those near 
 by, covered everywhere by the great and famous pine 
 [116] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 forest, reserved by the government of Italy, and so for- 
 ever saved the wretched axe of the ruthless woodman. 
 After my coffee and rolls (honey added this morning) 
 Hercolani and I took a long walk while F. B. waited 
 for Cavazza, and I send you a picture of one of the 
 many fascinating paths all about this country. 
 
 Just in front of the little hotel are two large pyra- 
 mids of stone which were placed here in bygone days to 
 mark the boundary line between what was then the 
 Grand Duchy of Tuscany and that of Modena. They 
 are very odd and rather imposing looking. Elisa 
 Bonaparte exercised a good deal of influence about here, 
 and had a special road to Florence built for her, which 
 is still in use. 
 
 Luncheon found us at the Marchesa's villa again, 
 and as we were having coffee on the terrace, *' Antonio "^ 
 astonished us all by spinning up the steep climb from 
 the valley and stopping at the doorway — a feat no 
 other **auto" has yet performed. It seems that Etta's 
 husband has felt that no car could get up here, so I 
 promptly photographed Vincenzo in front of the villa, 
 and I hope to be able to send the Marchese, who is 
 now in Rome, the picture proof of dear "Antonio's" 
 excellence. 
 
 How shall I tell you of our ride back to Bologna 
 over a road which had for its culminating beauty the 
 great Monte Cimone, the highest point of the northern 
 Apennines, 7103 feet! It was like being in a balloon 
 or an aeroplane, for the road skirted the tops of the 
 great sea of mountains all about us, which seemed to 
 look up in homage to their great parent, Cimone. We 
 stopped at one place and walked up a little hill to 
 [117] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 see a strange hole in the ground from which a natural 
 fire rushes, while blue flames break out from the ground 
 on both sides of the opening. There were a few houses 
 near, and some children came with buckets of water 
 and emptied them one after another into the great hole. 
 Of course the flames were quenched and disappeared, 
 but the smoke had scarcely cleared away when one little 
 red tongue after another appeared and the whole place 
 was soon blazing away merrily, and the children, as 
 always, were waiting for their little *'mancia" (tip). 
 
 On and on the road seemed to wind along the 
 crests of the mountains, and always we saw the great 
 Cimone looking benevolently down \ipon us. The air 
 was fresh and cool, and we all began to look longingly 
 toward the lunch basket. I assure you that our 
 simple bit of mountain bread and cheese, flavored 
 with a little good "chianti," tasted better than many 
 a fine dinner — so high were our spirits and so keen 
 our appetites in this mountain climate. 
 
 Prince Hercolani suggested turning off at Mon- 
 festino and going home by way of Vignola, the town 
 from which the famous Italian architect, G. Barozzi, 
 takes his name. I rather wanted to go that way, but 
 Cavazza urged a better road (by the regular route), so 
 on we went by Maranello to Modena. The men also 
 suggested seeing some fine pictures here, but I said we 
 had revelled in some of the most glorious of Nature's 
 paintings all day, and filled our lungs with such good 
 ozone, which I had no desire to exchange for a close 
 gallery this time. After the wonders of Nature's 
 great horizon I think a canvas would have been difl^- 
 cult to appreciate. 
 
 [ii8] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 We reached Bologna in time for tea, and the Prince 
 and Cavazza went off to a stag dinner that Hercolani 
 is giving at his villa this evening. He explained that 
 it had been arranged for some time; otherwise he 
 would have added ladies for my benefit. The Prince 
 and I have had some talks on American financial affairs, 
 and he evidently was rather surprised to find that I 
 am a business woman, as well as an ardent "good- 
 time-haver." He seems exceptionally well informed 
 as to our industrial and business conditions in general, 
 and I was much interested in discussing the differences 
 in Italian ways of business procedure and management 
 from those in America. 
 
 To-morrow Count Cavazza senior is kindly going 
 to show me some of Bologna's wonders, and in the 
 evening we are going to a small opera house where a 
 new opera by a young Bolognese composer is to be 
 sung by a young and aspiring tenor, also a native of 
 this dear old city. 
 
 Good-night. Much love. 
 
 T. 
 
 Bologna, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have done so many things and seen so much, 
 that I am beginning to think that the Bolognese are 
 regular "American hustlers," however mediaeval their 
 fine old town may look. Here, apparently, appear- 
 ances are deceptive, for this is the part of one day 
 that I think will interest you, to say nothing of all 
 sorts of complicated and amusing arrangements for 
 [119] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 to-morrow, which I suppose you will hear of in due 
 course of time. 
 
 First of all, I went with dear Countess Aldrovandi 
 to the Church of Santa Maria della Vita in the little 
 narrow Via Clavature, to see the Pieta of terra cotta 
 on which her son has discovered the signature of 
 Niccolo deir Area. Aldrovandi's article regarding 
 this work of art, which is one of the most violent and 
 realistic works of the Italian Renaissance, has been of 
 real value to the artistic world, and is quoted by all 
 modern art critics. The Countess went also with us 
 to see Camaldoli, the beautiful summer palace formerly 
 owned by the Aldrovandi family. It is quite different 
 in architecture from the other villas near here, and 
 indeed ^Emilia seems to have a more varied archi- 
 tecture than any other province of Italy. 
 
 I am becoming extremely fond of the sweet and 
 dignified Countess, who seems to reciprocate my affec- 
 tion, for she is so very lovely to me. Her manner of 
 speaking is ever so much like her son's, and Luigi 
 resembles her in many ways. We have had a charm- 
 ing morning together. 
 
 After lunch some of the men came in, and at three 
 Gian Luigi, Prince Hercolani, and Count Cavazza 
 senior st^^rted out to show us some of the most inter- 
 esting things in this dear old town. Count Cavazza 
 is personally much interested in the restoration of the 
 church of San Francesco, built by Marco da Brescia 
 in 1246, and one of the first churches erected by the 
 Franciscan Order, even older than that of their rival 
 in Florence. Most unfortunately, it was used for 
 some time as a military magazine, but was made a 
 [120] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 place of worship again in 1887. Restorations are being 
 carried on in the chapels about the church; some of 
 them are elaborate, but much of the modern decoration 
 is of questionable taste. In one, dedicated to Peace, 
 small scenes from the different great capitals of the 
 world have been introduced, and a pretty bit of the 
 capitol dome at Washington seemed to find itself quite 
 at home even in this old church in an older world. 
 We surely do stand for ''peace with honor," but it is 
 easier for us to maintain that peace than for some 
 nations, because in war we have been successful and 
 in peace generous friends. One of the stately marble 
 tombs in the church was that of an ancestor of 
 Hercolani, and another that of Pope Alexander V. 
 The large marble altar is magnificent and is said to be 
 the earliest known work of the brothers Massegne 
 of Venice (1388). 
 
 We stopped outside the church to see the strange 
 tombs of the great jurists, Accursius (1230) and Odo- 
 fredus (1265). They are peculiar in shape and placed 
 on marble standards supported by stone pillars, and 
 covered with a curious marble canopy. Another of 
 the same sort, that of Rolandino dei Romanzi, was 
 destroyed in 1598 and again in 1803, but it has now 
 been restored from Rubbiani's designs. From here 
 we went to see the Casa Isolani, one of the oldest, 
 oddest dwellings in Bologna, dating from 1200; the 
 great beams of wood that support the third story are 
 nine metres high, and the arrows still in the ceiling 
 bespeak the woeful times during the civil wars of the 
 Middle Ages. 
 
 There is evidently the greatest interest here in 
 [121] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Bologna in the restoring and preserving of these most 
 interesting and unique buildings. On the outside of 
 one strange old house, ornamented with elaborate 
 carvings, one may read the tablet of restoration made 
 by a noted singer in memory of her mother. There 
 are many of these old, high-beam houses in the narrow 
 streets, and the whole look of the place is so mediaeval, 
 yet the whole appearance of my friends so up to date, 
 that I have great difficulty in reconciling myself to 
 the fact that all this jolly time is not a dream; but the 
 contrasts seem to work out beautifully — certainly 
 for my comfort and enjoyment they are perfect. The 
 two famous towers Asinelli and Garisenda are all 
 that remain of the great number that were here in the 
 days of old, when every man tried to build himself a 
 tower just a little higher than that of any other man. 
 Near the towers is the handsome Mercanzia, and 
 we passed no end of beautiful Renaissance palaces, 
 the Malvezzi de' Medici being especially lovely and 
 classical in line. We are to meet the son of the house 
 to-morrow at tea, so Hercolani tells me. 
 
 There are gorgeous great statues of the strength god 
 all along the superb staircase of Prince Hercolani's 
 magnificent palace on the Via Marini, which would be 
 appropriately called Via Hercolani, I should think. 
 
 We next went to the church of San Domenico; the 
 shrine of the saint, by Niccolo Pisano, is really wonder- 
 ful, and the Apotheosis of San Domenico by Guido 
 Reni very lovely. Of the two angels, one is a grace- 
 ful early Renaissance work by Niccolo dell' Area, and 
 the other an early work of Michael Angelo, made 
 at the command of Giovanni Francesco Aldrovandi. 
 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 In the choir are magnificent inlaid stalls by Fra Dami- 
 ano da Bergamo, and the large Cappella del Rosario 
 contains the tombs of Guido Reni, who died in 1642, 
 and the talented painter, his pupil, Elisabetta Sirani, 
 who was poisoned at the age of twenty-six (1665). The 
 frame around the altar-piece consists of small paint- 
 ings of Guido Reni, Carracci, and the unfortunate 
 Elizabeth. Outside, in the shadow of the church, are 
 the Gothic tombs, under quaint stone canopies similar 
 to those near the Church of San Francesco, of two 
 distinguished Bolognese: Rolandino Passeggieri, the 
 teacher of law, and of Egidio Foscherari. No wonder 
 this fascinating city was first called "La Dotta" 
 (The Learned), later "La Libera" (The Free), and 
 still later "La Grassa" (The Fat One) from its 
 wealth. It has much of interest that no other city in 
 the world has in the same way or to the same degree. 
 The beautiful Renaissance terra cotta decoration used 
 so effectively in the brick construction of the buildings, 
 and so much admired by Ruskin, is quite unusual, but 
 effective in the extreme. 
 
 After San Domenico we left Count Cavazza at 
 the door of his palace, but went on with Prince Her- 
 colani armed with special permits and introductions 
 to the great orthopedic hospital of San Michaele in 
 Bosco, which was formerly an Olivetan monastery. 
 The late afternoon sun made lovely the old cloisters, 
 which are adorned with frescoes by the Carracci broth- 
 ers and their pupils, representing scenes from the lives of 
 the saints, Benedict, Cecilia, and Valerian. I was much 
 Interested in going over the perfectlyappointed hospital. 
 All that modern science can do in the way of baths, 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 electrical, Turkish, Roman, etc., electrically equipped 
 gymnasium apparatus, has been generously supplied 
 here through the munificence of Professor Rlzzoli, who 
 left a large sum of money to this institution. 
 
 We strolled about the grounds, and I gathered some 
 of the beautiful cyclamen that abound. The flora 
 all about Bologna is very beautiful and deservedly 
 noted. "Antonio" brought us quickly back to town, 
 and we have just had tea in the little "tea place," 
 with all the sweet, frosted Italian goodies. After tea 
 we went to the Piazza of San Stefano, which Is one 
 of the most characteristic spots of the ancient city. 
 There stands on one side the basilica of the same name, 
 and here one sees In the quaint courtyard those relics 
 of that monastic peace which surrounded Itself with 
 Byzantine art. Across the square stands the mediaeval 
 palaces of the Pepoli, once fortresses, but later trans- 
 formed Into residences for the rulers. With these 
 constructions of church and tyrant in the open square 
 Is still shown the spot were once stood the great oak, 
 under whose spreading branches law was taught and, 
 with law, science and liberty. About 1077, books of 
 'Roman law made by the Emperor Justinian were 
 brought from Ravenna to Bologna, and from these 
 books were made commentaries (glossae). The Ger- 
 manic conquerors later came into Italy with their own 
 standard of law, and the fusion of these northern laws 
 with those made and elaborated from the "Studio" 
 of Bologna found at last its most complete expression 
 in the Code Napoleon. In Bologna "II dolce stile 
 nuovo" (the new literary style), the real foundation of 
 Italian literature, had Its first expression; Indeed Bo- 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 logna, in the realms of literature, medicine, and science, 
 gave many famous men to the world, and received 
 the teaching of many others who came to the univer- 
 sity from all countries. Here taught Guinizelli and 
 Brunetto Latini, the master of Dante; here Luigi Gal- 
 vani (173 7-1 798) made his great discovery. Bologna, 
 too, gave to the world that great natural scientist, 
 Ulysses Aldrovandi, who devoted his life and fortune 
 to scientific investigation and to the founding of the 
 first museum of natural science. 
 
 Bologna gave to the world the first university, and 
 having become learned, its people became broad- 
 minded. The many foreign students brought new 
 ideas and customs, and it finally became one of the first 
 free communes. Education, understanding, freedom — 
 these were the watchwords of Bologna, and bravely and 
 hard has she fought for her own during the trouble- 
 some and contrary fortunes through which she has had 
 to pass. It is hard to realize that about 1260 there 
 were some ten thousand students at Europe's first 
 university, and the graceful porticos or colonnades 
 which are everywhere, are believed to have been built 
 for the comfort and benefit of the many students who 
 preferred to study in the streets, sheltered in this way, 
 than in their own crowded rooms. 
 
 We went this afternoon to what is now the library, 
 but which was formerly the main building of the 
 great University of Bologna. The librarian was most 
 courteous, and gave me special permission to take photo- 
 graphs wherever I liked, but seemed inclined to think 
 that the amphitheatre, which is finished in fine old 
 cedar wood, would be hardly worth trying; for, he ex- 
 [125] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 plained, previous attempts had generally proved fail- 
 ures. However, it is very amusing to try something 
 that other people have failed to do, and I am going 
 to-morrow morning to take pictures of this wonderful 
 and unique room. The anatomical statues that uphold 
 the lecture desk are marvels of woodcarving, and in 
 niches about the whole room are statues of the men 
 who have made many of the great discoveries in sur- 
 gery and medicine. It was here that Harvey, who later 
 was physician to James I and Charles I of England, and 
 who discovered the circulation of the blood, studied for 
 many years. Here Copernicus studied, and it was here 
 also that Arantius explained to the wondering students 
 his discovery of the valves of the heart. One of the 
 statues, beautifully carved, represents Gaspare Taglia- 
 cozzi (Taliacotius) holding the reproduction of a nose; 
 for it is to him that we owe the rhinoplastic method 
 of restoring lost lips, ears, noses — all of which he 
 explained in his surgical work published in Venice in 
 I597> two years before his death in Bologna. 
 
 Close by, in an adjoining niche, is the statue of 
 Bartoletti, who discovered the action of the breath; 
 but our attention was particularly called by the guide 
 to the finely wrought statue of Malpighi, who was 
 born in Bologna in 1628, and for years held the chair 
 of medicine here, going later in life to the universities 
 of Pisa and Messina. In 1691 he was called to Rome 
 by Innocent XII (Pignatelli), whose physician he 
 remained until his death on November 29, 1694. Mal- 
 pighi was the first to apply the newly invented micro- 
 scope in the study of anatomy, and performed the 
 first autopsy in this amphitheatre of the University of 
 [126I 
 
Taken by Mrs. Batch, 
 
 THE GREAT LECTURE DESK 
 OF CEDAR 
 
 In the Amphitheatre of the Univer- 
 sity of B I g 71 a 
 
 Taken by Mrs. BatchrlUr 
 
 THE AMPHITHEATRE 
 O F 
 
 OF T HE OLD 
 ! O L O G N A 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Bologna, though his fame is due, principally, to the dis- 
 covery of the transmission of the blood from the arteries 
 to the veins, described in his work "De Pulmonibus" 
 (1661); indeed, various parts of the epidermis, spleen, 
 and kidneys still bear his name. 
 
 High up in a niche near the ceiling is the one monu- 
 ment to woman in this place of learning, but the bust 
 of Baveria Baveri, who taught medicine here in 1428, 
 marks one of the most important beginnings of woman's 
 higher education. To Bologna, women should send 
 their gratitude, for it was here that women first found 
 every door of learning opened to them, every talent 
 fostered and helped, and not only encouraged but 
 appreciated. Women were given equal rank with 
 men in the university and occupied professorial chairs. 
 In the fourteenth century Professor Novella d' Andrea, 
 a woman of great beauty, lectured on mathematics, 
 but so great were her personal attractions that it was 
 found preferable to screen herself by a curtain in order 
 to keep the attention of her students to the subject 
 in hand. Anna Mazzolini (d. 1774) taught anatomy 
 and was the first woman to perform an autopsy. In 
 later days Laura Bassi (d. 1778) taught mathematics 
 and physical science, while more recently, in 1817, 
 Clotilda Tambroni was professor of Greek. But it was 
 not only in the university that Bologna has given to 
 the world beautiful and learned women; for Ginevra 
 Sforza-Bentivoglio was one of the most accomplished 
 and admired women of her time. The education of 
 the daughters of the great nobleman of that day, while 
 limited to a few branches, was based upon classical 
 antiquity, and was much more complete and thorough 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 in many ways than that of the woman of the present 
 time. Such women as Ginevra BentivogHo and Cate- 
 rina Sforza are referred to by the authors of that time 
 as "viragos," "a word that meant a woman who, by 
 her courage, understanding, and attainments, raised 
 herself above the masses of her sex, and who was still 
 more admired if, in addition to these qualities, she 
 possessed beauty and grace." In the world of art 
 Guido Reni's pupil, Elisabetta Sirani, proved herself 
 quite worthy of her great master. Almost the only 
 successful sculptress of history was Properzia de' Rossi, 
 and Lavinia Fontana's portraits won her European 
 fame and riches. 
 
 But to return to the wonderful amphitheatre. The 
 ceiling is carried out in the same cedar scheme, and is 
 really a masterpiece of woodcarving. In the centre 
 is a complete figure of Apollo, representing the sun 
 god; in adjoining circles studded with stars are placed 
 statues representing the various planets of our solar 
 system; but these statues are curious in effect, since 
 they are not strictly bas-relief, but entire in form, 
 being attached at the back to the ceiling. As we 
 went down into the courtyard of this impressive build- 
 ing, past all the hundreds of coats-of-arms that line 
 the walls, and call to mind the families of various 
 students of distinction who, throughout the ages, 
 have taken their degrees here, I stopped for a photo- 
 graph of the large and elegant tablet placed here last 
 year in honor of the three hundredth anniversary of 
 Ulysses Aldrovandi, the great natural scientist, who 
 was born in Bologna September ii, 1522, and died 
 May 10, 1605. 
 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 His Majesty the King gave his patronage to this 
 celebration, and Count Luigi Aldrovandi made an 
 eloquent and excellent address. It must have been a 
 proud moment for the dear Countess Aldrovandi to 
 see her son so worthy a successor of his famous forebear. 
 We greatly regret that we were not able to accept his 
 kind invitation to be here on this occasion. *' Science 
 is Liberty" is written on the wall over the entrance 
 to the university, and the figure of Ulysses Aldrovandi 
 stands out boldly in the past, as one who stood not 
 only for civil liberty, but for the liberation of the mind 
 through a more complete study of the laws of Nature. 
 In response to the eulogies pronounced by famous 
 men from all parts of the world gathered to do honor 
 to the great man of the past, Aldrovandi said: 
 
 "The new hall about to be dedicated will prove, 
 let us hope, a perennial resting-place for the collec- 
 tions of Ulisse, who gave the same enthusiasm to his 
 investigations as a warrior of old to the conquering 
 of a province; though these grains of his objective 
 instruction ripened for their best harvest many years 
 later beyond the Alps," etc. 
 
 Bologna is ever true to the memory of her famous 
 sons. In 1888 was celebrated the eight hundredth 
 anniversary of the legal instruction of Irnerius; to this 
 celebration also came men of intellect from all coun- 
 tries to do honor to his jurisprudence and to the fame 
 of Bologna's university. 
 
 Bologna is unique, too, in that it has become modern 
 in thought and action without destroying its beautiful 
 picturesqueness, for though mediaeval externally, in- 
 ternally it is thoroughly alive, and its inhabitants, 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 particularly the men and women of the nobility, are 
 widely travelled and highly cultured. As her sons 
 bled and died for liberty, so to-day her children are 
 reaping the golden benefits, for Bologna is going ahead 
 industrially by leaps and bounds, to take the proud 
 place that its situation demands. By its central posi- 
 tion in the heart of Northern Italy it is the natural 
 meeting-place of many railways, which greatly facili- 
 tate its commerce, and the broad fertile plains sur- 
 rounding the city in every direction give every possible 
 agricultural advantage. 
 
 The little opera was altogether charming this even- 
 ing, tuneful and vocal, and if the young tenor keeps 
 on, he should soon rival Caruso, for his voice is really 
 wonderful, with the same sweet, warm quality that 
 makes the famous Neapohtan's voice so delightful. 
 The book was novel, too, the story of Raphael and 
 the Fornarina being prettily arranged, but the girl 
 who took the role of the great painter's beloved only 
 looked her part, and her pretty young face hardly 
 atoned for her shrill, harsh notes. Fortunately, how- 
 ever, she had more to be seen than to be heard, so her 
 voice did not really mar the performance. 
 
 I must not speak of the lateness of the hour; but 
 you know the Italians turn night into day, and the 
 opera did not begin until nine or after; then the Prince 
 came in for a few minutes to talk it all over around 
 the tall glasses, and to plan our excursion for to- 
 morrow; so the time flew. I am greatly anticipating 
 going out to the villa of Aldrovandi's friend, Marchese 
 Malvezzi-Campeggi, and to meet him with Count 
 Malvezzi de' Medici to-morrow. 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Good-night, I must stop. I am a night-owl myself, 
 but hke my morning nap, and as it has been morning 
 for some moments I will say 
 
 Au Revoir. 
 
 T. 
 
 September, Bologna 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we met the two Malvezzi. Count Aldo- 
 brandino Malvezzi de' Medici, is very good-looking, 
 much-travelled, with just the tiniest shade of assumed 
 English boredom, a shadow perhaps from his recent 
 London visit; but his handsome eyes and altogether 
 attractive manner belied the English terror at once, 
 for one felt he was far too clever to have ever allowed 
 himself much boredom. He speaks English perfectly, 
 has travelled all over the world, his last trip having 
 been made with Her Majesty the Empress Eugenie, 
 whom he frequently visits at Farnborough, England. 
 He has taken, I cannot remember how many degrees 
 from the university, has written really fine works on 
 philosophy, and is a regular contributor to several 
 Italian periodicals of standing. His fortune is ample 
 and his life luxurious, but here is an excellent example 
 of what I call a man of leisure who is not lazy; a man 
 who is not obliged to do anything, but does something 
 that the workingman, toiling for his daily bread, 
 cannot do, and yet that the world needs to have done; 
 a man that it is a delight to meet. His youth, good 
 looks, and subtle humor are big assets in his favor, 
 and we had a very jolly tea. 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Marchese Camillo Malvezzi is blond, with blue 
 eyes, and quite as vivacious as de' Medici is quiet; 
 such a warm-hearted, enthusiastic, voluble man I have 
 not met in many a day. I wonder if all the men here 
 in Bologna are so attractive! Certainly my%ummer 
 is fortunate, for I cannot remember to have met one 
 homely man in Italy, yet. Quite a record! But 
 perhaps I am allowed to meet only the best — the 
 Italians have such subtle ways of achieving their 
 purposes. They know everything about everybody in 
 their own small, high-class world, and if anyone is 
 foolish enough to misstate things, it is only a few days 
 before everyone knows the error, who made it, very 
 likely why he made it, and all about it. It must be 
 very difficult to keep an unfortunate secret in Italy, 
 for they seem to all have mental Marconis. 
 
 I took Countess Aldrovandi for a drive in the car 
 this morning, and then to the "giardini publici" 
 (public gardens), where her little grand-daughters had 
 the time of their lives feeding the deer and ducks. I 
 never tire of the beauty of the central Piazza del Net- 
 tuno, with its great Neptune fountain by Giovanni 
 da Bologna.^ Its wonderful Palazzo del Podesta, built 
 originally in 1201, was rebuilt in early Renaissance 
 style in 1492, and the great hall in which the election 
 of Pope John XXIII was held (1410) is called the Sala 
 del Re Enzio from the young and gifted King Enzio, 
 who was kept a prisoner here by the Bolognese (1249- 
 72). Enzio is said to have solaced his imprisonment, 
 by his attachment to the beautiful Lucia di Viadagola, 
 from whom the Bentivoglio family is descended. The 
 
 ^ So called, but properly Jean Boulogne of Donai, in French Flanders. 
 [132] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 story goes, also, that each day three of the city's most 
 prominent nobles took turns in going to keep their 
 Royal prisoner company. This square is unquestion- 
 ably the most stately of any in Italy. 
 Good-bye for this time. 
 
 September, Bologna 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This noon Prince Hercolani and Malvezzi de' 
 Medici came to luncheon, and afterward Malvezzi 
 showed us his wonderful collection of Indian pictures, 
 taken on his world-tour trip. Later we all went out 
 in the car to his villa at Bagnarola, which, like so 
 many of these Italian estates, is situated a long way 
 from the main road in the centre of a vast park. 
 
 Bagnarola is one of the seventeenth century villas, 
 but is quite different in its surroundings from many, 
 in that it has no formal garden, but a long stretch of 
 smooth, green lawn, bordered on either side by avenues 
 of old trees, which form a picturesque aisle that con- 
 tinues almost to the length of one's vision. It is very 
 like the Villa Poggio at Cajano, where the "Magnifi- 
 cent" of the Medicis entertained so lavishly with his 
 wife, Clarice Orsini. 
 
 Just now Malvezzi and his parents are at another 
 villa, called La Croce del Biacco, which we enjoyed 
 seeing a few days ago. His father has recently been 
 made senator by His Majesty, and was for a time 
 Minister of Agriculture. The name itself tells its own 
 famous and historic story. The family were consistent 
 and forceful enemies for many years of the Bentivoglio. 
 [133] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The chapel here at Bagnarola is not a part of the 
 villa, but a separate building placed at one side of the 
 park, and the relics of some saint who had to do with 
 the history of the family are kept here. On the outer 
 porch of the villa there are four statues representing 
 the main continents of the world, and I have sent you 
 a kodak I took of Malvezzi's tender embraces and 
 Hercolani's reverence to the statue of America by way 
 of compliment to me. 
 
 We went in town for tea with Hercolani to Maiani's, 
 a typical Italian "patisserie" — candyshop and tea 
 place all in one. Anyhow, the tea was excellent, and 
 F. B. likes so much these little Italian sugared cakes 
 that they bring out on all occasions. As we had not 
 been here at the time of the motor race, Hercolani 
 suggested that we take a spin over the course. His 
 brother. Prince Antonio, joined us, and I think our 
 "Antonio" made very good time for a limousine over 
 the hard oiled roads of the race-course. It certainly 
 is very beneficial to the highways of a country to 
 have, from time to time, in different sections, these 
 automobile races; for it is impossible to have a good 
 race without good roads, and if each year there is a 
 race in a different part of the country, in time the 
 general standard of the highways will become well- 
 nigh perfect. 
 
 More to-morrow. T. 
 
 September, Bologna 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we have had such a nice time. First of all, 
 Hercolani supplied me with a list of the towns through 
 [134] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 which we were to go. I give It to you, to show you 
 how many places we passed in half an hour's ride, 
 which will give you an idea how thickly the country 
 is settled: Bologna, Pontevecchio, Due Madonne (fancy 
 calling a town Two Madonnas), S. Lazzaro, Idice, 
 Ozzano. 
 
 At last we came to Maggio, where instructions 
 said to *'turn to the right." We did, but could see 
 nothing before us but the little grass-grown lane, 
 that looked for all the world like a bit of England. 
 On and on we went, and without the thoughtful in- 
 structions of the Prince we should have never found 
 the way; but suddenly the large tall gates, then the 
 beautiful villa "Palazzina," with its flowers and gar- 
 dens, came into view, and there was the Marchese 
 Malvezzi-Campeggi rushing down the path, his bright 
 blue eyes flashing with pleasure, crying, " Evviva I'Amer- 
 ica! Evviva 1' America!" while he frantically waved a 
 tiny "Old Glory" by way of compliment to our 
 arrival. It was only a little flag, only a little thing to 
 do, but it expressed the same sentiment as that of our 
 noble flag, — welcome and hospitality to the stranger. 
 I laughingly thanked him, but inwardly was much 
 touched and pleased, for naturally, what looks better 
 to any of us, especially in a foreign land, than the dear 
 old "stars and stripes." The Marchese's parents, his 
 sister and his wife, together with other people in their 
 house party, came out to greet us, and we went into 
 the big main hallway of the handsome villa for tea. 
 This, again, was quite different and most attractive. 
 Giant caryatides upheld the high portals of the pas- 
 sage from the main hall to the adjoining part of the 
 
 [135] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 villa, which, though begun about 1600, has never been 
 quite completed, according to the old water-color designs 
 that the Marchese's father showed to me. 
 
 I can hardly tell you of the genial feeling that 
 surrounded me. Here I was in this lovely home, 
 among people that I had never seen before; yet every- 
 one was so cordial, so natural, so genuinely interested 
 in hearing of my project, and in helping me to accom- 
 plish it, that I felt as if I had been in the habit of 
 coming to "Palazzina," and that this was only a re- 
 newal of many good times, and of warm welcomes 
 that had preceded it. 
 
 After tea we strolled about the grounds, which are 
 elaborately laid out, a most attractive vista being 
 ingeniously arranged from one great gate through the 
 open doors of the villa to another gate on the other 
 side of the grounds. These gateways, surmounted by 
 lions, are very much like those at the villa Falconieri 
 at Frascati, and like the pictures of the Marchesa 
 Casati's villa near Milan, where we are going later. 
 I took some photographs of the assembled family, and 
 then, as Marchese Camillo and his wife were leav- 
 ing on the train this evening for Rome, we carried 
 them into town. The Marchesa has been strenuously 
 opposed to a limousine '*auto," and Camillo suggested 
 to me that he much preferred a car like mine, and 
 wondered if I could persuade his wife that one can 
 get all the necessary air in a limousine as well as an 
 open machine. As this is one of my special hobbies, 
 I quietly had all the glass dropped in the car, so that 
 we literally blew into Bologna, the Marchesa hanging 
 on "for dear life" to her hat and veil. When we 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 drew up before the railway station, she announced her 
 conviction that in some hmousines one could get just 
 as much air as in uncovered cars. The Marchese 
 wrote a rather pretty verse from Dante by way of 
 signature in "Antonio's" book and autographed to me. 
 
 "E da per gli occhi una dolcezza al core." 
 
 "And she gives through her eyes a sweetness to the heart." 
 
 He Is building In the new part of Rome an elaborate 
 villa, and has cordially Invited us to visit him next 
 season should we be in Italy. He is on his way to 
 Rome now to look after the details of architecture, etc. 
 We have decided to go from here to Venice, before 
 going to Donna Imogene Colonna's villa for our prom- 
 ised visit there, and we have asked Hercolani to go 
 along with us. As Venice is delightful at this season 
 of the year, many Italians go the;e for a few days at 
 least, so we are likely to meet many of our friends. 
 
 T. 
 
 [137] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Venetia, Venice, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 HERE we are in this glorious, fascinating 
 Venice! Surely there is nothing like it 
 in all the world. I had feared that we 
 should have some difficulty in finding 
 storage for our car at Mestre, where, of course, we 
 were obliged to take the train for the ten-minutes 
 run across the railroad bridges into Venice, but Her- 
 colani arranged everything very nicely and quickly 
 for us. We found an excellent garage, and had no 
 difficulty in getting our trunks through the city cus- 
 toms at Venice, and into our spacious rooms in time 
 to dress for dinner. How different one's impression is 
 of a place if one's physical creature comforts are looked 
 after! I always think of George Eliot's expression, 
 ''It is hard for us to live up to our own eloquence, and 
 keep pace with our winged words while we are treading 
 the solid earth and liable to heavy dining." Anyhow, 
 we are much more comfortable than we have been 
 before in Venice, because Hercolani comes to this 
 Hotel de 1' Europe every year, and sent his special 
 instructions on to the proprietor to look after our 
 comfort. We have made arrangements to have a 
 private gondola for the week we are to be here, and I 
 think the complete change from the car, and a breath 
 of the sea, will do me a great deal of good. But I must 
 not forget to tell you how perfectly beautiful the road 
 was on the way here. 
 
 [138] 
 
AJJIV (333 HO }f O il A .1 .1 I V ) HUT VI I O T T 3 IT M 3 T 
 3MO^ T/. OMlMq OT>I3aMU 
 (e T £ a o A 1 a 3 s) 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Venetia, Venice, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 HERE we are in this glorious, fascinating 
 Venice! Surely there is nothing like it 
 in all the world. I had feared that we 
 should have 3ome difficulty in finding 
 storage for our car at Mestre, where, of course, we 
 were obliged to take the train for the ten-minutes 
 run across the railroad bridges into Venice, but Her- 
 colani arranged everything very nicely and quickly 
 for us. We found an excellent garage, and had no 
 difficulty in getting our trunks through the city cus- 
 toms at Venice, and into our >inci«.«us rooms in time 
 
 of a place if one's physical creature comf4^iSp;xia^l9^bed 
 after! I always think of George Eliot's expression, 
 "It is hard for us to live up to our own eloquence, and 
 keep pace with our winged words while we are treading 
 the solid earth and liable to heavy dining." Anyhow, 
 we are much more comfortable than we have been 
 before in Venice, because Hercolani comes to this 
 Hotel de V Europe every year, and sent his special 
 instructions on to the proprietor to look after our 
 comfort. We have made arrangements to have a 
 private gondola for the week we are to be here, and I 
 think the complete change from the car, and a breath 
 of the sea, will do me a great deal of good. But I must 
 not forget to tell you how perfectly beautiful the road 
 was on the way here. 
 
 [138] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 The morning was rather warm when we left Bologna, 
 but in the car we did not realize it until one of the 
 tires announced with pistol-shot noise that the heat had 
 certainly been too much for its endurance. 
 
 Much of the way the road lay beside the broad 
 canals which the Venetians put back through their 
 picturesque Venetia in the old days. In places the 
 country is what we, at home, should call mountainous, 
 but here is considered merely rolling. Every now and 
 again we could discover on the hillsides stately villas, 
 and Hercolani pointed out one near which he says 
 is a boiling spring, that by means of careful piping, 
 heats the whole villa in the late autumn. 
 
 We took our lunch in historic Ferrara, and I feel 
 one could almost write a book about the castle alone. 
 I took a photograph of one of the grim towers of the 
 castle, where the beautiful, pleasure-loving, young, 
 artistic, athletic Marchesa Parisina Malatesta, wife of 
 Niccolo III, was made to expiate the crime of her guilty 
 love with Ugo Aldobrandini, her stepson. Two of her 
 ladies and a courtier were put to death with her and 
 her lover by the enraged and avenging husband, and one 
 sighed with relief that this terrible Tower of the Lions 
 could not unfold the secrets of its walls. She was 
 married at the age of fifteen to Niccolo III, whose first 
 wife, the Marchesa Gigliola Carrara of Padova, had 
 died in 1416 leaving him no children. Niccolo's mis- 
 tress, the beautiful Stella dell' Assassino, a lady of noble 
 Ferrarese family connected with the Tolomei of Siena, 
 had borne him many sons, who were brought up in 
 his palace like princes. However, his dissolute life and 
 countless amours made him notorious even in that 
 [139] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 loose age, and the most careful historians have found 
 it impossible to exactly number his children. "Di 
 qua e di la del Po, tutti figli di Niccolo " (Here and 
 there on the banks of the Po, children all of Niccolo), 
 sang the people of Ferrara with double meaning. 
 With the tolerance of the age Parisina accepted the care 
 of the Marquis' large family, and from all we can 
 learn governed his household with great discretion, 
 wifely knowledge and skill. 
 
 She liked to wander, as did many of the great 
 ladies of the Renaissance, from one of her husband's 
 castles to another. One summer it was decided that 
 she should go upon a journey into the Romagna to 
 visit her kinsfolk at Rimini, and she was accompanied 
 by Ugo, who was already her lover. The very name 
 of Malatesta seems to spell misfortune for lovers, and 
 like Francesca and Paolo of Parisina's house long be- 
 fore, this journey of love was conducting them **ad 
 una morte," for some time later a resentful servant, 
 who had been severely punished, betrayed the guilty 
 secret. A new Marchesa succeeded Parisina — Ricci- 
 arda di Sallusto — by whom the Marquis had his only 
 legitimate sons, Ercole and Sigismondo, and it was 
 from their birth, and under their steady and en- 
 lightened rule, that Ferrara entered upon the long era 
 of peace and prosperity that culminated later in her 
 "age of gold." 
 
 As if born to ever live as the centre of admiration, 
 riches, culture, and splendor, we see Lucrezia Borgia 
 taking the centre of the stage in this golden time of 
 Ferrara, for it was here that she lived out her life of 
 justification; here, as the wife of Alfonso d' Este, she 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 proved herself to be, not the vile woman of the story- 
 books, but the freed woman of intelligence, character, 
 and goodness. 
 
 These princes of Este were not always, as often 
 quoted by their countrymen, paragons of heroic noble- 
 ness, but in the history of art and science the renown 
 of the House of Este is immortal. 
 
 "Who'er in Italy Is known to fame 
 This lordly House as frequent guest can claim." 
 
 It is interesting that this family of Este, so closely 
 associated with the wonderful castle of Ferrara, should 
 in one of its younger branches. Count Welf, have 
 founded the younger branch of the famous House of 
 Guelph; and that his son, Henry the Proud, became the 
 founder of that family of Guelfs of Hanover that are 
 now the sovereigns of England. It was herethat the 
 famous poet of the sixteenth century, Ludovico Ari- 
 osto (1474-1533), was in service to the reigning family 
 for many years. One recalls here, too, Goethe's charm- 
 ing picture of this celebrated court of Ferrara; but 
 many romances which are given the halo of history 
 by brilliant and ingenious authors are not based upon 
 fact; and there seems to be little foundation for the 
 attachment of Tasso to Eleonora, the youngest un- 
 married sister of the Duke. 
 
 It was here at Ferrara that Lorenzo Costa (1460- 
 1535) was born, though his study and work was largely 
 directed by Francesco Francia, the chief master of 
 the Bolognese school. Indeed, Correggio received his 
 first artistic training here at Ferrara. 
 
 A look at the cathedral recalled that it was here in 
 [141] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Ferrara that Saint Catherine of Bologna first professed 
 rehgion, and one wonders if the tragic circumstances 
 of her mistress' (Parisina) fate did not make the hor- 
 rible and permanent impression that induced Caterina 
 dei Vigri to retire from the world and seek comfort 
 in the seclusion of the cloister. Certainly Catherine 
 was to Bologna what Anthony was to Padova, although 
 Ferrara also has disputed the right to claim her as its 
 own. 
 
 She was the only child of a wealthy man whom 
 Niccolo III was pleased to honor with his favor. She 
 was selected as the companion of the Princess Mar- 
 gherita, one of his (Niccolo III) three hundred or 
 more illegitimate children, and came into close and 
 unfortunate understanding of the details and import 
 of the death of her mistress. It was in the age of plain 
 speaking and brief childhood, and Caterina's book, 
 *'Le Sette Arme Necessarie alia Battaglia Spirituale" 
 (The Seven Necessary Weapons for the Spiritual 
 Battle), mystical and mediaeval as it is in sentiment, 
 is essentially one of the first productions of the new 
 feminism, and was written when the girl was but 
 twenty-five. For a woman in the early fifteenth cen- 
 tury to venture to write on theology showed the 
 temerity and daring of the explorer of the New 
 World; and though there had been accomplished nuns 
 before Caterina's day, who had excelled in manuscript, 
 poetry, philosophy, and even some miracle-play writ- 
 ing, none of them attempted to deal with the keynote 
 of their own existence, religion. 
 
 The facade of the cathedral is an imposing and 
 elaborate example of Lombard decoration. It dates, 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 I believe, from somewhere about 1130, but of course 
 we did not have time to see everything, because if one 
 should really see all the things of interest in Italy 
 one would have to live a thousand years and go no- 
 where else. 
 
 We passed through Stra and Padova, where we are 
 to go later, but just now I am looking forward to going 
 out after dinner in our gondola, and hearing the musi- 
 cians sing their tuneful folk-songs on the Grand Canal. 
 There is a fascination, an allure, about Venice that is 
 irresistible. I have been here many times, but for 
 once I am going to do no systematic sight-seeing, and 
 am promising myself the pleasure of revisiting many 
 of my pet places ; also I hope to buy some beautiful 
 lace. 
 
 T. 
 
 Venice, September 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Venice is certainly the place of all others to rest 
 and lounge in. I like this hotel very much, although 
 it is a strange arrangement of the old palace Giustiani, 
 and I really need a guide to find my way from the 
 dining-room, up some stairs, down other stairs, across 
 the small canal by a bridge that connects the two parts 
 of the hotel to our rooms, but they are quiet. Last 
 evening our gondoliers turned out to be young and 
 handsome Venetians, who took us up and down the 
 Grand Canal with great ease and much more speed 
 than one usually has in a gondola. It seems almost an 
 insult to Venice to bring motor boats into the canals, 
 [143] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 and the ** put-put" of their motors is as disagreeable 
 as the clanging of the modern tram. I suppose it is 
 necessary for the people who live here to be somewhat 
 practical, but Venice is too beautiful, too dreamy, too 
 ideal for any outward appearance of practicability to 
 meet with anything but disapproval from the out- 
 sider. The canals here are given the same name 
 that the Spanish use for streets (calle), and one won- 
 ders if both words came originally from the East, for 
 Venice seems to have always been regarded by the 
 East as a sort of relation, or at any rate a coveted 
 prize. This morning Hercolani went off to a shooting 
 contest at the Lido, where a number of his friends are 
 competing for the prize. He shoots very well, I be- 
 lieve, but said he rather doubted if he should go into 
 the tournament, as he has not been shooting very much 
 of late, and fears his form will be below his usual 
 standard. 
 
 After a good rest and luncheon, we enjoyed the ter- 
 race of the hotel, where we took our coffee and watched 
 the boats coming and going. We have met many of 
 our friends already. Pretty Princess Antuni, with her 
 stepson, sits near us at table, and Marchesa Casati, 
 her husband, and her Russian friends are here for a 
 few days; I saw Sir Seymour and Lady Blane get out 
 of a gondola and come into the hotel this morning. 
 Hercolani asked us to come down for tea to the new 
 Excelsior Hotel, that has been built at the Lido this 
 year. It is a very elaborate and immense affair, 
 very nice to go to as well as to stay in, and the view 
 from the upstairs terrace over the water is beautiful. 
 This evening, after a bit of a turn in the Canal, we 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 took a box for the light opera that is being played 
 here at one of the principal theatres. I was sur- 
 prised to see at this season so good a company and 
 such fine mounting of Offenbach's "Little Grand 
 Duchess." 
 
 I thoroughly like the Italian idea of keeping late 
 hours, especially in Venice. After the opera we went 
 up and down the Canal, enjoying the musicians who 
 were still singing in their gondolas at i a.m. 
 
 To-morrow morning I am going to devote to shop- 
 ping and the lace schools. Hercolani professes igno- 
 rance as to lace, but a desire to learn. He discovered 
 Prince Potenziani in the theatre last night, and brought 
 him to our box. He is one of Hercolani's best friends, 
 and certainly one of the most agreeable young noble- 
 men in Italy. 
 
 I will write again in a few days, but it is very diflR- 
 cult to do any sort of work in Venice. It is the one 
 place where I think I could learn to be lazy. 
 
 Venice, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 We went this morning all over the palace of the 
 Princess Giovanelli, whom I have known in Rome, 
 and whom we expect to see on our way from here to 
 Lake Como, for she has a lovely villa at Lonigo. She 
 is one of the prettiest and most charming of the Queen's 
 Ladies-of-the-palace, and her villa in Rome is one of 
 the spacious and elegant modern houses in the new 
 part of the city. The palace here in Venice is very 
 elaborate, and the ballroom is particularly attractive. 
 
 In the entrance there is a large, life-size picture of 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the Prince on his favorite EngHsh hunter, for it is a 
 well-known fact that the Venetians are particularly 
 fond of horses, and generally are splendid drivers 
 and riders, often having large estates in the province 
 of Venetia, back from Venice. Since that is the one 
 thing of luxury that the Venetians cannot have in 
 their own city, I suppose that by the contrariness of 
 human nature, just that one forbidden joy is their chief 
 amusement. 
 
 We lunched to-day at the Lido, and on our way 
 back had a rather amusing experience. It seems that 
 as we approached the Lido, F. B. wished to see the 
 Italian forts, which here protect the harbor, and as 
 the gondola passed along in front of them, we sighted 
 another gondola with a peculiarly picturesque white 
 canvas hood. Both Hercolani and I took out our 
 cameras, but fortunately for me, as it turned out 
 afterward, my films were exhausted, and of course 
 I had no picture. It was but a few seconds later 
 when we heard the cry of "Gondola, gondola" from 
 the fort, and discovered a soldier calling through a 
 megaphone. He motioned to us very emphatically 
 to draw up to the official landing, and the larger part 
 of the garrison, I should think, ran down quickly to 
 await our arrival. For what we were wanted we had 
 no idea, but it seemed wiser to go and find out. The 
 same soldier, who proved to be the officer on guard, 
 that had called us with the megaphone, quickly ad- 
 vanced as our gondola drew up to the wharf, with the 
 astonishing statement that he was going to arrest us. 
 It seems that there is a very hard and fixed rule that 
 no one shall take any photographs of the fort. 
 [146] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 I quickly produced my camera, and showed it empty 
 of films, which was proof positive that I was no 
 offender, but Hercolani could only explain that he had 
 pointed his camera in the opposite direction, and that 
 he had no intention or desire to have any photo- 
 graphs of the fort. More than all that, he was quite 
 willing, if they wished, to leave the roll of films in 
 their possession; but this did not at all suit the vigi- 
 lant young officer, who was only too pleased to have 
 a chance to show his activity in defending the fort, 
 even from photographers. He therefore ordered us 
 over to the Italian man-of-war lying out in the stream 
 but a short distance from the wharf. 
 
 It was getting rather late, and neither Hercolani 
 nor we enjoyed the prospect of waiting under arrest 
 the return of the commanding officer. Admiral Pres- 
 bitero. At last, after some discussion with the men on 
 board, Hercolani made up his mind to explain his 
 identity, and of course, when they knew his rank and 
 his position in the army, they accepted his proposal 
 to take the films and let us go. It is very amusing 
 to the Prince, for he says that many times when he 
 has been on duty in the mountains with his artillery, 
 he has been obliged to make some arrests, to prevent 
 people from photographing the mountain defences. 
 This morning the films were returned untouched, with 
 the Admiral's compliments and regrets that we had 
 been annoyed, and now that all is over it is rather 
 funny; but it would not have been at all amusing to 
 have waited there until well into the night at the 
 orders of this over-vigilant soldier. 
 
 T. 
 [147] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Venice, September 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning we have been to all the various lace 
 schools and lace shops, and I found a most beautiful 
 piece of "punto di Milano," or Milan point as we call it. 
 Hercolani proved more interested than I supposed in 
 the lace, and made an excellent guide for my walk, 
 for I was determined to investigate the narrow streets, 
 or rather alleys, that permit one to go on foot from 
 one part of Venice to another. 
 
 Venice is the land of honeymoons. This morning 
 we unexpectedly came upon several American brides 
 and grooms with interlocked arms and affectionate 
 attitudes, which were not expected to be seen when 
 the narrow corners of the narrow path had been turned. 
 I have been rather interested in learning something of 
 the construction of the houses of this strange water 
 city. The foundations are not as unstable as one 
 imagines, for they are laid on a firm, stiff bed of clay, 
 below which is a bed of sand and gravel, which in turn 
 covers a layer of peat. Recent borings to a depth of 
 about fifteen hundred feet for artesian wells have 
 shown a regular succession of these clay, gravel, and 
 peat beds repeated again and again as far down as 
 the borings have run. The process implied in this 
 geological foundation apparently is still going on, for 
 the present level of the Square of St. Mark has been 
 raised artificially about twenty inches above the old 
 brick paving shown in Bellini's picture of 1496. The 
 houses themselves stand on footings or piles of white 
 [148] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 poplar ten to twelve inches in diameter, over which a 
 platform is built of two layers of oak trees. They are 
 rebuilding the Campanile, and for all the houses lean 
 a bit in some instances on the canals, I think it will be 
 a good while before Venice will collapse, as some people 
 believe. 
 
 Many of the important manufactures here in Venice 
 are now run with English capital, and I am sorry that 
 we are not to have time to run down to Burano, the 
 quaint little island where the famous lace of that 
 name is made. We have had unhurried enjoyment, 
 however, of our beloved Titians. I cannot get used 
 to calling him by his real name, Vecelli. How wonder- 
 ful are his women! But I love better the works of 
 Tintoretto (Robusti), who came, in a way, after 
 Titian, as Beethoven came after Mozart, with a firmer 
 touch and perhaps a little harder hand. He is some- 
 times spoken of as "the most terrible brains that art 
 ever had"; though Titian understood better than 
 anyone, except perhaps Giorgione, how to portray 
 the soul through the expression of the eyes. 
 
 I suppose that no one would ever leave Venice of 
 his own free will; there is so much that is wonderful, 
 beautiful, and interesting here, and its history is as 
 picturesque and dramatically brilliant as the place 
 itself. Yet, with all its ups and downs, with all it 
 has endured and seen, Venice seems like an imperial 
 old lady, comfortably protected by the now strong 
 hand of the country to which she naturally belonged 
 by geography, by race, and by language; and so much 
 is left of her past grandeur, and so much is still being 
 done to perpetuate and continue at least the wonder- 
 [149] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ful afterglow of the art that was hers, that she can 
 never be anything but a glory to the world, and 
 beloved, not only of her own country, but of all the 
 world beside. 
 
 If, however, we are to make one-half of our visits 
 we must tear ourselves away. To-day, at the Lido, 
 Don Marcantonio Colonna came down with his little 
 boy, and made us promise that we will come to-morrow 
 to his villa for our visit. Hercolani is obliged to return 
 to Bologna to look after some matters of his estate, and 
 so to-morrow we shall take a sad farewell of beautiful 
 Venice. We are going again to the opera to-night, 
 and I shall not let the gondoliers take us in until the 
 wee small hours. 
 
 [150] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Villa Forti, Noventa Padovana 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 i^LTHOUGH we were up rather late last night 
 
 / \ the air Is so fresh and beautiful this 
 
 / % morning, and the view so exquisite from 
 
 X ^ my window, that I could not help getting 
 
 up and talking to you about it for a bit before 
 
 breakfast. 
 
 We found VIncenzo at Mestre, very eager to hurry 
 our trunks on to the car and to get under way. A 
 chauffeur Is like an actor; he seems never to wish to 
 be far away from his profession, and I think a week's 
 rest has been all VIncenzo could stand. 
 
 We left Venice after lunch, and ran quickly to 
 Padova, which seems a most interesting and pictur- 
 esque place that we shall probably see much more of 
 In our excursions from the villa, for we are here only 
 five kilometres from the city. 
 
 The villa is one of the best examples of Palladio's 
 architecture, and I am sending you a photograph 
 giving you some idea of its beauty. The formal 
 gardens are beautifully laid out, and when we arrived 
 the whole family and other members of the house party 
 met us at the doorway, as if we had been Royal vis- 
 itors. Certainly Italian hospitality Is charming in 
 every sense of the word. A large and attractive suite 
 has been assigned to us. In which our little motor 
 trunks seem quite lost. 
 
 Sunshine, flowers, and friendship should be the 
 [151] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 motto of this hospitable household, for our rooms are 
 a bower of blooms, and wherever we look, in whatever 
 direction, there are always the same lovely gardens. 
 Beyond the formal garden is a long, broad sweep of 
 finely clipped lawn, and you will appreciate its size the 
 better when I tell you that it takes a kilometre of 
 gorgeous great forest trees to encircle it, and one 
 cannot imagine a more beautiful walk than one has 
 in the morning between two rows of trees, planted 
 here long ago for the promenade of some great Vene- 
 tian noble. 
 
 Prince Colonna-Stigliano, our host, belongs to the 
 Neapolitan branch of the great family of that name, 
 and it is Donna Imogene who is the "Veneziana," for 
 she was born in Padova. Their little son Giachino is 
 quite as Neapolitan, though rather darker than his 
 father, whose constant companion he is each day. 
 Under his father's instruction he is becoming a won- 
 derful shot, and we often have the result of his bag 
 at dinner. He is also very artistic, and in his study 
 room his governess showed me some really excellent 
 drawings he had recently finished. 
 
 I had no idea that the province of Venetia was 
 so beautiful, and had so many definite characteristics 
 quite apart from any other portion of Italy. The 
 architecture is distinctly different. The highways are 
 lined with trees beside which are great, deep ditches. 
 Here and there and everywhere are cut canals, which 
 made it possible for the proud Venetians to leave 
 their palaces in Venice, and make their triumphal 
 journeys into the country without stepping from their 
 gondolas. Inside the villas one finds a special kind 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of stucco that is strikingly effective, and our dinner- 
 table at night is frequently set with the priceless Murano 
 porcelain of this province, while many of the elaborate 
 glass mirror frames that are given the same name hang 
 on the walls. 
 
 My room is done all in blue, and large old paintings 
 by Venetian masters are set into the walls, an elaborate 
 stucco forming graceful and attractive frames. I was 
 somewhat at a loss to know what the tall blue cylinder 
 in the corner was meant to be, but on examination it 
 proved to be a stove, which, however, I shall probably 
 not need at this season of the year. No one expects 
 me to appear at breakfast, and one is left very much 
 the same freedom as in English houses; but introduc- 
 tions, once you are invited to the house, are never 
 omitted or forgotten, and we feel already perfectly at 
 home, even though it seems a bit odd to be the actual 
 guests of a Marcantonio Colonna, who is generally 
 connected in our minds with the famous hero of the 
 Battle of Lepanto (in 1571). This Don Marcantonio, 
 however, is a genial host, and an accomplished cook as 
 well, and by way of showing his personal hospitality, 
 he insists upon cooking one course himself for me 
 each night at dinner. Last night he told me that he 
 had driven to town with his pony, and personally 
 bought fish and various vegetables with which he 
 garnished an elaborate Neapolitan dish that he pre- 
 pared for me. It was certainly delicious, and I tell 
 him he should publish the cook-book that his friends 
 know, and which he admits that he has written. 
 
 Destiny is good to us in point of weather, for each 
 day seems more perfect than the one before, not too 
 [153] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 hot or cold, and I am greatly anticipating the Con- 
 corso Ippico, or open-air horse show, which Donna 
 Imogene tells me is one of the characteristic autumn 
 amusements of Italy, especially about here. 
 
 I wish I could find the counterpart of the maid 
 whom Signora Forti, Imogene's mother, has kindly 
 put at my disposal during my visit. She certainly is 
 a paragon, and has put me in wonderfully good order 
 already. Italian servants seem not only to be well 
 trained, but to have a real pride and interest in their 
 work, and if I can find another such jewel as this girl 
 I shall be sorely tempted to bring her home. 
 
 To-day Imogene, her mother, F. B., and I motored 
 over to Castelfranco-Veneto, on the way to the prom- 
 ised tea with Countess Morosini, in order that we 
 might see the famous Madonna of Giorgio Barbarelli, 
 who is generally called II Giorgione, and who lived 
 about 1477-15 12. There are many paintings ascribed 
 to this first great master of the late Renaissance, but 
 this altar-piece in the town of his birth is one of the 
 few thoroughly authenticated as his work, and I 
 believe it is generally claimed that the picture "Fami- 
 glia di Giorgione" in the Giovanelli palace, where we 
 were the other day in Venice, is also genuinely his. 
 Certainly this Madonna at Castelfranco, about which 
 Signora Forti has been so enthusiastic, is worth while 
 going a very long way to see. There is a peculiar 
 charm to Giorgione's coloring, an unusual life and 
 poetic feeling in his treatment of figures. 
 
 To Asolo, very near here, the widowed Queen 
 Catherine Cornaro of Cyprus retired, after her abdi- 
 cation and giving over of her island to the Republic 
 [154] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of Venice. Many stories are told of her latter years 
 spent here in dispensing charities, and listening to the 
 cultured Cardinal Bembo's conversation. 
 
 It was a fine road all the way to Treviso, and but 
 a short run from this town to the villa of the beau- 
 tiful Countess Morosini. I always dub her the "lady 
 of electricity," because her eyes are so brilliant and 
 beautiful that when she enters a room it is as if extra 
 electric lights had been turned on. We found the 
 Countess surrounded by a number of friends in a 
 corner of one of the large rooms of her villa. Satur- 
 day is her reception day, and motors rolled into the 
 park during all the afternoon from various directions. 
 Among others. Admiral Presbitero was presented to 
 me, and I fancied I detected just a bit of a quizzical 
 smile as he greeted me. As I was a foreigner I imag- 
 ined perhaps he would not venture to say anything of 
 our comic arrest the other day in Venetian waters, 
 but as I knew him to be the commanding officer of 
 the Naval Station at Venice, I felt he must know all 
 about it. "Perhaps it is to you. Admiral, that I owe 
 my freedom, instead of languishing in an Italian 
 prison," I laughingly said; whereupon there was a 
 hearty laugh all round, and the Admiral's handsome 
 English wife at once came to me and said, "We are 
 so relieved that you have spoken first, for we feared 
 you might be annoyed, not only at the adventure and 
 mistake, but at any reference by us to it." They 
 seemed very much interested in the photographs I have 
 taken this summer, and in the book I hope to write 
 about all these good times. Most unfortunately, our 
 first shower came this afternoon, just in time to pre- 
 [155] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 vent my taking pictures of the grounds and the villa. 
 My camera works obligingly in what ordinarily is 
 considered very poor light, but after five o'clock, in 
 the rain, it would have been useless to try for the 
 photographs I wanted. 
 
 The situation of this villa is unusually picturesque 
 and charming, placed as it is close to a running rivulet, 
 which is lined on both sides with tall, graceful grasses, 
 and dotted here and there with stately purple iris and 
 other water flowers. So many vistas are arranged so 
 cleverly in the gardens all through Italy, that unless 
 one stops to think, one is completely deluded into be- 
 lieving that there has been no arrangement, but that 
 all these unusual beauties *' just happened." Of course, 
 that is just what the mind of the designer intended, 
 and the apparent naturalness of everything lends 
 double charm to all these extensive parks. At Treviso 
 a colossal basket is arranged as the principal feature of 
 the formal garden in which numerous beautiful roses 
 and other flowers are growing. I am hoping that the 
 Countess will send me a picture of herself taken near 
 it, and that she will include in the picture her splendid 
 big Russian greyhound that is always with her. 
 
 The word Morosini is indissolubly attached to 
 Venice, and the properties about Treviso have for 
 many years belonged to the family, and were probably 
 acquired in the war with Milan, for Venice was not 
 content with her unparalleled prosperity and wealth 
 brought her by her commerce with the East, but 
 carried on at first successful wars with Padova, of 
 which she made herself mistress, acquiring later Verona, 
 Vicenza, Bassano, and later even pushed her dominion 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 as far as Brescia and Bergamo. But in spite of the 
 wise warnings of the Doge Mocenigo (1423) these poli- 
 cies were continued to the detriment of the commerce 
 of the RepubHc during the fifteenth and sixteenth 
 centuries. The power gradually drifted from the 
 people into the hands of a powerful aristocracy, and 
 the westward advance of the Turks, who captured 
 Constantinople in 1453, was a fatal blow to glorious 
 Venice. The Morosini family is mentioned by his- 
 torians as early as the seventh century, but nothing 
 authentic is known of the two branches referred to 
 in history, until we find them settled as one family in 
 Venice in the eighth century. The Morosini belong 
 to the Casevecchie, or twenty-four families of Venetian 
 nobility, who were descended from the tribunes of the 
 federated islands before Venice became united in one 
 centre at Rialto. They engaged in extensive commerce 
 with the East, and the wealth and importance of the 
 family may be gathered from the fact that in 1379 
 no less than fifty-nine Morosini subscribed toward the 
 fund for carrying on the war of Chioggia. The House 
 of Morosini gave four Doges to Venice, and numbered 
 among its honors two Royal marriages, two Cardinals, 
 twenty-four Procurators of Saint Mark, besides numer- 
 ous generals of the Republic. One of the most dis- 
 tinguished of this family, however, was Giovanni, who 
 in 982 founded the monastic establishment on San 
 Giorgio Maggiore after the order of Saint Benedict. 
 Domenico the Doge (1148-56) reconquered the rebel- 
 lious Pola of Istria ; Tommasina Morosini, the sister of 
 Albertino II Grande, married Stephen, Prince of Hun- 
 gary, while her cousin Costanza married Ladislaus, 
 [157] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 King of Servia. Andrea Morosini, the distinguished 
 historian, was born in 1558; but perhaps the most 
 noted member of all was Francesco, the celebrated 
 Captain-General of the Republic, who led the Vene- 
 tians against the Turks and conquered the Morea. 
 It was at the time when the ambition of Louis XIV 
 excited troubles all over Europe, so that the envious 
 of Venice were so busy with their own difficulties, 
 and the Republic knew so well how to preserve its 
 own neutrality, that these years of European warfare 
 were for Venice a period of profound peace. 
 
 But the continued enmity of Turkey menaced 
 Venice, which already was financially weakened after 
 the great single-handed fight she had carried on for 
 so many years against the East. At this crisis the 
 Senate called Francesco Morosini to command the 
 fleet, a post in which he covered himself with glory 
 by his bold offensive operations in the Peloponnesus. 
 For fourteen years the contest was bravely maintained 
 on both sides, but the fortune of war was against the 
 Turks. The Venetians not only occupied the Morea, 
 but laid siege to Athens, Morosini bombarding the 
 Parthenon, which had been made a powder magazine. 
 The campaigns, which were renewed every spring, 
 were marked by a series of victories; Prevesa, Nava- 
 rino, Modone, Argos, Lepanto, and Corinth — all 
 added glory to the name of Morosini, who was then 
 called "II Peloponnesiaco." 
 
 Just as we were leaving the villa Morosini, an 
 
 open automobile whizzed up to the door, and who 
 
 should jump out but Prince and Princess Potenziani, 
 
 enveloped in rubber coats, though the Princess' stream- 
 
 [158] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ing wet locks, which had escaped from her hat, and 
 the dripping garments made them look for all the 
 world as if they had been just rescued from the waves. 
 The Princess is an excellent sport, and although she 
 had a frightful cold, she did not seem to mind in the 
 least taking this open-air douche, as it were. She is 
 a handsome woman, so she can afford to wear rubber 
 caps and other usually unbecoming things that most 
 women would hesitate to don. 
 
 It was getting very late, but what with all the 
 cordial greetings and welcomes that had been given 
 me I found it hard to say good-bye. The Countess 
 asked us to return another Saturday, but I doubt if we 
 shall be in Venetia so long. The Admiral promised that 
 I should be immune from arrest when I came back to 
 Venice, and the whole party waved us a merry farewell. 
 
 We came back a little late for dinner, and Don 
 Marcantonio was rather uneasy for fear something 
 had happened. He does not approve of automobiling, 
 and always fears an accident. 
 
 I have told you before of his views regarding auto- 
 mobilists, and his uneasiness, too, was increased by 
 the fact that he had carefully prepared a most elab- 
 orate dish for my delectation at dinner, and we all 
 enjoyed and did full justice to his culinary art. We 
 found Imogene's sister. Countess Lazzara-Pisani, and 
 her husband, who had come over to spend the evening, 
 and to invite us to pass the day to-morrow at their 
 altogether charming villa at Stra, a few kilometres 
 from here. 
 
 I remember the great gates of the Royal Palace as 
 we went through the town rapidly on our way to 
 [159] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Venice, but to-morrow we are going through the grounds 
 and all over the palace, after the luncheon party at the 
 villa Lazzara. 
 
 We met the Count and Countess at the shooting 
 tournament in Venice, and I believe the Count came 
 out very well and among the first winners. After 
 dinner to-night Don Marcantonio sang us many of 
 his beloved Neapolitan songs. He has the fair hair 
 and bright blue eyes that are common to so many 
 Neapolitans and Sicilians, due probably to the large 
 infusion of Norman blood in Sicily and Naples at one 
 time. No one but a Neapolitan can sing those lovely 
 songs with just the same intonation and expression, 
 and I greatly enjoyed the impromptu concert. F. B. 
 and Imogene made up a table of bridge, and after the 
 music Don Marcantonio wanted me to discuss the 
 American trust question with him. 
 
 A great many Europeans have an absolutely false 
 idea as to what a trust really is. Indeed, I think that 
 many of our own countrymen have an entirely errone- 
 ous idea as to the facts. I tried to explain to the Prince 
 that an incorporated company or companies, conduct- 
 ing a legitimate industry in compliance with the laws 
 of the country, was a trust that met the commenda- 
 tion and approval of most intelligent business men and 
 politicians; but there were many people who thoroughly 
 disapproved of existing laws in our country because of 
 their unfair restriction to the better workings of trusts; 
 however the Sherman law was too local a matter to 
 discuss with a foreign prince. 
 
 The Prince was apparently much interested, but 
 we found the conversation getting rather serious, when 
 [160I • 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Lazzara came up to tell me something about the Con- 
 corso Ippico that we shall see to-morrow at Vicenza. 
 
 It seems that the "borghese" (country gentlemen) 
 all come together and arrange for a series of riding 
 contests. They are joined almost invariably by the 
 cavalry officers of the neighboring garrison, and in 
 many cases the most noted riders of the country's 
 cavalry go with their horses from one to another of 
 these autumn meetings. 
 
 We have decided to postpone the lunch with the 
 Lazzaras until the day after the concorso, as it seems 
 we are all to motor to Vicenza, where a luncheon has 
 been arranged. The intervisiting of this part of the 
 country is perfectly charming. Everyone seems to 
 have a motor, and distances between villas are thus 
 annihilated, with a result that all the people for miles 
 around see one another constantly, and we hardly 
 have had tea in the same place two days in succession. 
 
 NovENTA Padovana, Octobct 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 You must prepare for a long letter to-day, and do 
 not begin to read this until you have a quiet half-hour, 
 because I have not been able to write for several days, 
 we have had so much going on. 
 
 The Concorso Ippico fully came up to my expec- 
 tation, and we had the jolliest kind of day at Vicenza. 
 The courtyard of the little hotel there, where we had 
 luncheon, looked like a veritable garage, for I think 
 there were not less than twenty beautiful limousines 
 lined up on both sides. Our luncheon table extended 
 [161I 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 to fifteen, and young Marchese Clemente Theodoli 
 sat next to me. He is very tall and lithe, and I had 
 been told one of the best horsemen in the crack cavalry 
 regiment of Italy. The officers in this Cavalleria di 
 Genova are mostly taken from Italy's best nobility. 
 Theodoli is one of the most distinguished names in 
 Roman aristocracy, for it is one of the five marquis- 
 ates which rank the same as princes. Theodoli's 
 mother was a princess of the House of Altieri, and 
 is a charming woman. We are going to see their 
 villa in the Campagna near Rome, next spring. Dur- 
 ing luncheon I asked Theodoli all about the riding 
 contests, who was going to ride, about the horses, 
 and so on, and then I said, "Well, I do not see why 
 you should not have the prize to-day, for you have as 
 good a reputation as a rider as anybody, and you 
 certainly are going to have the best horse. Indeed, I 
 will make the prophecy that you will get the prize." 
 I think the whole thing was regarded rather as a 
 joke on both sides, and after the meal we strolled 
 about the town, which is really most interesting and 
 picturesque. 
 
 Vicenza was the birthplace of Andrea Palladio 
 (15 18-1580), the last great architect of the Renais- 
 sance. We saw his house and admired the beautiful 
 palaces of his designing. Certainly the villas in this 
 beautiful Venetia, built, if not directly by him, at least 
 under his influence, are most attractive in their im- 
 pressive simplicity of form, and give a distinguished, 
 individual character to the whole province. Theo- 
 doli got me some very good pictures of the Basilica 
 Palladiana and its grand colonnades, and another of 
 [162I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the unfinished Loggia del Capitano, also by Palladio, 
 which is rather overladen with plastic ornament and 
 belongs, I believe, to the Municipio. 
 
 Before it was time to go to the horse show we 
 took a look at an exhibition of modern industry that is 
 being held here. I must say I do not care for this 
 new-fashioned, so-called art nouveau. In its simplest 
 form, in some places, it is endurable, perhaps even 
 almost pretty, but its exaggeration is anything but 
 pleasing. The reproductions of the murano porcelain 
 work were very attractive, and all these modern expo- 
 sitions show everywhere in Italy the local as well as 
 the general impetus toward trade, commerce, and indus- 
 trial progress. Some of the men went on ahead to 
 see that the very best places, on what we should call 
 the grand-stand, were reserved for us, and when we 
 arrived, the end seats beside the entrance for the 
 horses had been kept for Imogene, her sister, and my- 
 self. Nothing more picturesque can be imagined than 
 this natural amphitheatre. In the distance one could 
 discover the towers of the town screened by the trees. 
 A long semi-circular stand was filled with gayly dressed 
 women in smart summer attire. Here and there and 
 everywhere were the brilliant uniforms of the cavalry 
 officers, who were arranging the last details of each 
 event. Back of us in the paddock were the beautiful 
 English hunters, with all the various riders. The day 
 was obligingly perfect. Of course our seats were among 
 what the programme called "posti distinti e pesage," 
 but there were other good places for three lire, others 
 less advantageous for two and one, and finally, the 
 small-boy seats for fifty "centesimi," or ten cents. 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The show began at two o'clock, and the first event 
 was for officers and gentlemen ; horses of any age, race, 
 or country. It was to show the rapidity of covering 
 about twelve hundred metres under three minutes, 
 at the same time successfully surmounting a series 
 of fixed obstacles — fences, ditches, etc. The horses 
 were obliged to be at full gallop; for every refusal a 
 point was lost in the general classification. The first 
 prize was seven hundred lire, of which five hundred 
 was offered by the People's Bank of Vicenza, and the 
 other two given by Her Majesty, the Queen Mother; 
 the second prize, three hundred lire, given by the Pre- 
 fect of the town; third prize, two hundred lire, and 
 the fourth, one hundred. Gold medals were awarded 
 to all the competitors who had successfully gained, 
 within the three minutes, the necessary points, but 
 had not sufficient perfection to win a prize. Generous 
 arrangements for everybody, it seems to me. 
 
 Conspicuous among the horses was the beautiful 
 ''Moonlight" of Baron Gino Morpurgo, the large white 
 horse that has won his master so much fame; but all 
 the same, I still felt that the wonderful, lithe, Arab- 
 looking **Vissuto" that belongs to Lieutenant Arriva- 
 bene of the Genoa Cavalry was the better horse for 
 the high jump of my prophecy. From the names of 
 the horses one would hardly imagine one's self in 
 Italy: "Queen of Hearts," "Jupiter," "Miss Betty," 
 "Summer's Dream," "Little Princess," "Bleak Boy," 
 "Black Prince," "Darling Grace," "Moonlight," and 
 "Honeymoon" sound rather English for an Italian 
 horse show. 
 
 Morpurgo carried off the laurels in the first event 
 [164] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 and won them easily. I went down into the paddock 
 between times, and while I was talking to Morpurgo, 
 Theodoli brought up Count Giacomo Antonelli, who 
 is said to be one of the three best riders in Italy, 
 and I believe is a teacher in the Tor di Quinto cavalry 
 school at Rome. The Italian officers certainly do ride 
 magnificently, and rather astonished the world with 
 their wonderful exhibition in London at the London 
 Horse Show this last June. One always thinks of the 
 English as being horsemen par excellence, but the 
 Italian cavalry officers called forth from all England 
 unqualified praise, and carried off^ nine out of the 
 fourteen prizes offered. It is surprising to me that 
 Mr. Alfred Vanderbilt, who interests himself so much 
 in horses, should not bring the Italians to New York 
 as well as the Englishmen for the autumn indoor horse 
 show at home. When the Italian cavalry officers were 
 in London this year they were given a brilliant lunch- 
 eon by the members of the polo club of Hurlingham, 
 and they in return, with the authorization of the 
 Minister of War, gave an exhibition of their riding, 
 and jumping of walls and palisades; in fact, during 
 their stay they were the objects of general admiration 
 and praise. They were invited to the Royal Enclosure 
 at Ascot, presented to His Majesty King Edward VII, 
 invited to a garden party at Windsor, and included in 
 the festival of the raising of the colors at Whitehall. 
 After to-day I am not at all surprised, for not only 
 the officers, but all the participating gentlemen riders, 
 gave proof of far more than ordinary horsemanship, 
 thus proving the Italian method of equitation to be 
 well-nigh perfect. Of course, they could show their 
 [165] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 skill very much better in these broad and beautifully 
 arranged out-of-door meeting-places than in the narrow 
 ring of a closed amphitheatre, where the obstacles are 
 equally high, but where there is necessarily much less 
 space in which to approach them, and where shadows 
 from the electric light often cause errors of direction. 
 
 Indeed, it was said in London that after the Ital- 
 ians had once accustomed their horses to the arena, 
 they gained each day steadily on all the other nation- 
 alities, although they had many fewer horses at their 
 disposal; however, the ultimate result, as I told you, 
 was eminently satisfactory. "Vissuto" was partic- 
 ularly ugly to-day, which would either make him 
 surely win the prize, or as surely lose it. The first 
 time the jump was perfect, and someway I cannot 
 help tightening my muscles and holding my breath 
 when the exciting second comes that those lagging 
 hind legs must get over the last bar. But get there 
 they did, in splendid shape, three times in succession; 
 and when all the others had done less well, what did 
 Theodoli do but come, hat in hand, before the whole 
 grand-stand, and making a low bow before me, say, 
 "Signora Batcheller, I bring my homage to you; you 
 are a prophetess." It was a rather trying moment 
 for me, but everybody was having a good time, and I 
 do not think many people, beyond our own immediate 
 friends, paid much attention to anybody but the vic- 
 tor, who, however, insisted upon my going down with 
 him for an introduction to the horse, whose merits I 
 had foreseen so correctly. It was not, perhaps, very 
 polite, but it was only after I had patted the nose of 
 "Vissuto" that I turned to meet the owner, who is 
 [i66] 
 
< 
 
 !^ O 
 
 o S 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 supposed, I believe, to be one of Italy's handsomest 
 men. 
 
 The automobiles now came down from the town, and 
 just how it was ever accomplished I cannot tell, but 
 the fact is that fifteen of us got out of our car at the 
 cafe in the town, so I suppose somehow we must have 
 been "packed in," in the excitement of leaving. Of 
 course Theodoli came with us; indeed we carried the 
 conquering hero back to dinner at the villa, and after- 
 wards danced until the wee small hours in the long 
 living-room, while patient and amiable Signora Bon- 
 amico played one waltz after another. Theodoli dances 
 as well as he rides, so you can imagine what sort of 
 time I had. "Venetia for me" in September and 
 October, and I hope we shall be able to accept Donna 
 Imogene's invitation to come back again another year. 
 
 NovENTA Padovana, Octobct 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 If one should motor through Italy, beautiful as 
 the country is in itself, one would have no idea of the 
 beauties that are hidden behind high walls and park 
 gates. On our way to Venice we passed the imposing 
 and magnificent Royal Palace of Stra, and perhaps that 
 distracted our attention from the villa on the other side 
 of the canal, which runs from Venice up to Stra and 
 beyond; but to-day, when we approached it from the 
 other side of the water, and entered as guests at the 
 park gate, we saw one of the prettiest, most attractive 
 villas of this part of the country. Its general plan 
 reminded me of the pictures of our Southern planta- 
 [167] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tion houses, for the villa is a long, low building, with 
 projecting wings arranged for the servants' quarters, 
 kitchens, etc. We had a very jolly luncheon, and 
 Countess Lazzara is begging us to come and stay with 
 her for a time, when our visit with Imogene is finished, 
 but our plans must be rather hard and fast if we are to 
 visit all the places we have promised; consequently 
 we have agreed to come back some other year, and I 
 am assured a special dance in the Countess' newly 
 finished ballroom. The villa is an old one, but has 
 been entirely redone by the Lazzaras, and the stucco 
 work has been so carefully and successfully reproduced 
 from the old designs that art dealers from London have 
 been sent here begging for permission to photograph 
 the rooms. Theodoli, who has joined our party 
 again to-day, and has been jumping Lazzara's horses 
 for him all the morning, took me about the park, and 
 showed me the place where they put the horses over 
 the bars. 
 
 The view from the upper hallway of the villa down 
 the Canale di Brenta, overhung with groups of grace- 
 ful willows, is too pretty to make description easy, 
 and the old clock tower, seen from the other end of 
 the same corridor, standing between two tali, guardian- 
 like poplars, makes another attractive picture. After 
 I had taken numerous kodaks, we all went over to the 
 Royal Palace at Stra, which is now the property of the 
 Italian government. We were shown the room and 
 bed occupied by the great Victor Emmanuel II, also 
 that used by Napoleon I, who seems to have left 
 his trace for good nearly everywhere in Europe, 
 and I have succeeded in getting an excellent picture 
 [168I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of the ceiling of the great ballroom, which represents 
 the glorification of the Pisani, painted by Tiepolo. 
 The chiaroscuri, which are particularly lovely, were 
 done by Jean B. Tiepolo, but many of the decora- 
 tions are by G. Mengozzi Colonna. We made the 
 whole *'gira" (tour) of the castle, Theodoli and the 
 other men kindly carrying all my photographic appa- 
 ratus. On the walls of several of the rooms we saw 
 fine engravings of the Pisani family, for whom this 
 palace was first built about 1740 by Frigimelica and 
 F. M. Preti. Count Lazzara's full name is Lazzara- 
 Pisani, and these august gentlemen of the engravings 
 are his proud ancestors of old. Had it not been for her 
 great admirals, Vettor Pisani and Carlo Zeno, Venice 
 would have been defeated in the war of Chioggia in 
 1378-81. The palace was bought in 1807 by Napoleon I 
 for Eugene Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy. After a look 
 at the over-gorgeous stables at the end of a great green 
 lawn, which seems to be characteristic of these Veneto 
 villas, we decided to go in for tea to Padova. As 
 we passed the great palace of Stra, and later the de- 
 serted-looking villa of Malcontenta, we spoke of the 
 romantic story of the Doge Alvise Pisani and the 
 beautiful daughter of the Venetian noble Labia, for 
 love of whom he had this palace constructed, intending 
 to make it a princely gift to his beautiful young wife. 
 The girl, however, had misunderstood his proposals, 
 and had shown more than usual interest in the villa 
 for the reason that her lover was the architect. 
 
 It would seem that the palace was indeed built 
 for naught, for though Napoleon I and Victor Em- 
 manuel II stopped here for brief periods, it is now 
 [169] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 without occupants the year round, a beautiful, stately- 
 national monument, yet without apparent use except 
 as a fine example of architecture and some excellent 
 frescoes of Tiepolo. 
 
 At Padova other friends of the Colonnas joined 
 us. The little cafe, with its quaint velvet cushions, 
 has an air of its own, and one imagines the learned doc- 
 tors of the university having long discussions over 
 their drinks here. This evening a number of people 
 came in to the villa for dinner. Imogene and Baron 
 Chantal, who invited us to his charming villa the 
 other day, made up their customary bridge table, and 
 after a few Neapolitan songs from the Prince we all 
 had another good dance. 
 
 T. 
 
 NovENTA Padovana, Octobcr 
 My dear M: 
 
 "Any time is never," therefore this morning, I 
 devoted to taking careful photographs of this villa 
 and the grounds, which are really superb. Signora 
 Forti went with me to give the gardeners any direc- 
 tions that might help me, and this afternoon we all 
 went over to Frassanelle to see Countess Papafava, 
 where we had tea, and saw one of the most lovely parks 
 in the whole Veneto. There seem to be no two villas 
 alike, and yet each one has its peculiar charm and 
 attraction. Here, as is so often the case, the average 
 traveller would never dream of the beautiful place 
 beyond the simple park gates on the highway, and I 
 think the distance from the gate to the villa must be 
 [170] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 fully two kilometres, through a wooded park that 
 reminded me very much of our own at home. We 
 climbed and climbed, turned and turned again, and 
 when at last we drew up before the villa, one of the 
 most magnificent views in the Venetia lay stretched 
 before us. 
 
 The Italian women have drunk at the fountain of 
 eternal youth, and it was indeed difficult to believe 
 that the young and pretty Countess Papafava was the 
 mother of the tall young girl who came out with her 
 to greet us, for she looked much more like an older 
 sister. The head of the house, now an old gentleman, 
 offered to show us about the whole park, which he has 
 had laid out under his personal direction. 
 
 At first we went on in the car to the top of what 
 they call a hill, but what we should call a mountain, 
 back of the villa, to get a more complete view of the 
 surrounding country. After tea we strolled about the 
 grounds, and Theodoli and Countess Lazzara took a 
 row on the beautiful lake that forms one of the chief 
 attractions of this extensive estate. The rest of us 
 remained in what I might almost call the crystal boat- 
 house, for enormous pieces of plate glass formed the 
 sides of an upper room built over the shed for the 
 boats. This vista-room was so situated that in every 
 direction particularly charming views of the moun- 
 tains, the villa, the lake and the paths through the 
 park could be had. Cameras, photographs, and cer- 
 tainly pens, seem hopelessly inadequate to describe the 
 special charm of these places. 
 
 The name Papafava belongs to one of the great 
 families of Padova, but it is here at this country estate 
 [171] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 that the members of the house are brought to be buried 
 in the great and elaborate mausoleum in one part of 
 the grounds. However grand a town house may be, by 
 very force of a city's growth, the environments and 
 general atmosphere change with time; but a country 
 place, with its broad lands, which have belonged to 
 one's people for many generations, seems like a part 
 of one's self, and I think the word "home" belongs 
 to the country, for at best a town house is rarely 
 more than a street and number. The Papafavas 
 have, of course, their ancestral palace in Padova, and 
 spend much of their winter there when they do not 
 go to Rome. Their name is linked with many of 
 the main historic events of Padova, but it is at their 
 country place here at Frassanelle that they really feel 
 at home. The nearest village is Cervarese Santa 
 Croce, and it would be perfectly impossible for us to 
 find these villas if our good friends did not supplement 
 their invitation by coming with us. The old Count 
 has devoted much time and money to the building of 
 an elaborate and artificial grotto, which is bizarre 
 but rather pretty, forming a striking contrast to the 
 complete naturalness of the rest of the park. 
 
 I am sorry to say that on our way home to-night 
 "Antonio" was very impolite; a tire on one wheel 
 and an air chamber on another, so delayed our home- 
 coming that Count and Countess Lazzara were obliged 
 to telephone from the nearest town (at least the car 
 had the decency to break down near a village) for their 
 automobile to come for them, as they had a dinner 
 engagement with other friends at another villa some 
 number of kilometres in the opposite direction. 
 [172] 
 
ALL-ROOM OF THE PALAZZO PISANI 
 AT S T R A 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 This evening Prince Colonna prepared a most 
 elaborate dish, *'bcEuf a la proven^ale," and the table 
 was particularly charming in its decoration of Vene- 
 tian glass dolphins and the scarlet leaves of the wood- 
 bine, which they call here the American creeper. 
 To-morrow we are invited to Conegliano by Gino 
 Morpurgo and his sister the Marchesa Bourbon del 
 Monte. Baron Morpurgo asked us to come for a 
 ten-days visit, but again we were obliged to decline, 
 for in a day or two we must say good-bye to the whole 
 of this beautiful province, if we are to reach Lake 
 Como this summer, as we have promised our friends 
 all about the lake to do. I have always been told 
 that very few people are invited to visit the Italians 
 in their homes, but I can certainly bring my personal 
 testimony to the contradiction of any such statement, 
 for no more charming hospitality can be imagined 
 than that which has been offered to us from all our 
 Italian friends. I only wish the autumn would last 
 for a year, that we might take advantage of the invita- 
 tions we have received, and so complete our succession 
 of visits; but there are other years coming and other 
 autumns, and I hope Destiny will be good to us and 
 send us here again. We are only five kilometres from 
 Padova; consequently we shall probably see very 
 little of it, because it seems so near that I suppose it 
 is human nature to do all the important things that 
 are farther away; but I have a real affection for Sant' 
 Antonio di Padova, and to-morrow we shall devote 
 to the city and its many interesting sights. 
 
 Padova recalls Bologna with its long streets lined 
 with arcades (portici), and the same' reason for them 
 [ 173 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 is given as in the older university city. Some of the 
 main thoroughfares have been widened, but not im- 
 proved, by the removal of these picturesque arcades. 
 Padova is the capital of a most beautiful province, 
 and it has been fought and struggled for by various 
 robber princes of the neighboring sections. There 
 were constant wars between its nobles and the Scali- 
 gers of Verona, and Venice finally seized it for the 
 Republic in 1405, when it became a part of Venetia. 
 
 The university was founded by Bishop Giordano 
 about 1222, and extended by Frederick II (in 1238), 
 so that Padova became a famous seat of learning 
 throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. 
 Art flourished and received encouragement and pat- 
 ronage. Giotto, Donatello, and Fra Filippo Lippi left 
 many of their best works here in the city's churches 
 and palaces, and a school of art was founded here by 
 Francesco Squarcione (i 397-1474), who, although not 
 a professional artist, made valuable collections of art 
 during his travels, and had young artists draw from 
 these models, which is perhaps a reason for the peculiar, 
 rather severe style of the Padovan pictures. But the 
 great Paduan who really influenced Venice in the 
 fifteenth century was Andrea Mantegna, who also 
 influenced the Vicenzan painters. 
 
 My first object was to visit the church of Sant* 
 Antonio, who was born, I learned for the first time, at 
 Lisbon, Portugal, and died in 123 1. He was a con- 
 temporary of Saint Francis of Assisi, and is to me the 
 most "simpatico" of all the saints. Just before we 
 entered the church Imogene disappeared, but came 
 back presently bringing a beautiful silver medal of 
 [174] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 St. Anthony, which she said she should present to his 
 namesake that had carried her so many miles so 
 comfortably. I was most interested to see the 
 holy man's tomb, which is placed in a florid little 
 Renaissance chapel begun about 1500. The walls are 
 decorated with high reliefs of the sixteenth century, 
 and represent scenes from the life of the saint. To 
 almost every one of the saints are attributed similar 
 miracles to those performed, according to the general 
 belief, by Jesus Christ, and here we have as subjects: 
 first. The ordination of Sant' Antonio, by Minello; The 
 resuscitation of a murdered woman, by Giovanni Den- 
 tone; The restoration of a child, by Minello and San- 
 sovino; The discovery of a stone in the corpse of a 
 miser instead of a heart, by Tullio Lombardo (1525); 
 and Saint Anthony giving speech to an infant that 
 it might prove its mother's innocence, by Antonio 
 Lombardo, which I liked best of all. The bones of 
 the saint repose beneath the altar, beside which hang 
 innumerable votive offerings: wax hands, arms, legs, 
 feet, silver and gold hearts, bracelets, and other gifts 
 of the many pilgrims, who come here each year on 
 votive pilgrimages. On the altar are two magnificent 
 silver candelabra borne by angels in marble, and the 
 whole is very imposing. Imogene had the little silver 
 medal blessed by a priest at the tomb; then turned 
 and gave it to me. The marble screen of the choir is 
 very beautiful; it was designed by Donatello, and the 
 full-length statue of Saint Anthony is said to be his 
 best likeness. I cannot begin to tell you of all the 
 many interesting works of art we have seen to-day 
 in Padova, for although I knew the city to be famous 
 [175] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 for many of the best of Giotto's paintings in the church 
 of Madonna dell' Arena, I did not realize that there were 
 so many other fine things here. We were taken to 
 see the house of Dante in the Via Santa Francesca, 
 and near it is a mediaeval sarcophagus known as the 
 Tomb of Antenor, whom tradition tells us was the 
 brother of Priam, and the founder of the city of Padova. 
 Although all the ancient monuments were afterward 
 destroyed during the immigration of the barbarian 
 hordes, and later in the Middle Ages the town fell 
 into the hands of Ezzelino da Romano in 1237, there 
 are still to be seen remains of the ancient Roman 
 amphitheatre in the oval garden near the church of 
 Arena. Maeterlinck would have us believe that all 
 evil is good in disguise; or by a strange turn in the 
 brain the same energy which produces hideous crimes 
 might, if in a thoroughly normal state, be the means 
 of producing the same amount of good. 
 
 Verci has defended Ezzelino, and perhaps it was 
 more the spirit of the age that transformed these 
 germs of the highest virtues into such hideous crimes, 
 for surely Ezzelino has been immortalized as the Nero 
 of his time. He was at last captured, and there was 
 rejoicing by the crowd, who looked with delight upon 
 this terrible captive in the Castle of Soncino, sitting 
 like a silent monster amid the gibes of his onlookers. 
 Ezzelino had no respect for God, man, or the devil; 
 he feared nothing, not even the destiny that had been 
 foretold him by the astrologers, but he died at Soncino 
 October 7, 1259. 
 
 We had an opportunity, also, to enjoy the Piazza 
 Vittorio Emanuele II, formerly called the Prato della 
 [176] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Valle, with its unusual double series of eighty-two 
 statues encircling a shady promenade. I remembered 
 seeing them on our way to Venice, but we whizzed in, 
 through, and out of the town so quickly that I was 
 very glad to have another look at this spacious square, 
 which is rather deserted, except in the time of the 
 "fiera" that begins on the Festival of Saint Anthony, 
 the thirteenth of June, and lasts for three days. We 
 ran in for just a look at the beautiful Paolo Veronese 
 that hangs behind the altar of the church of Santa 
 Giustina. The choir stalls are very beautiful, and 
 were done from drawings of Campagnola, about 1560, 
 so Signora Forti tells me, and the same general idea 
 of subjects from the New and the Old Testaments is 
 carried out here as in so many other of the elaborate 
 choirs of Italy. What things we have not seen to-day, 
 we are going to try to do the morning that we start 
 for Como. I cannot write longer now, as I must 
 dress for dinner. 
 
 Signora Solms is coming over from her villa, the 
 Lazzaras are motoring, and will stop here on their way 
 home, and Theodoli is coming in from the garrison 
 at Padova. 
 
 T. 
 
 NovENTA Padovana, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 I am rather tired to-night, but we have had a 
 
 delightful day. Theodoli joined us on our excursion 
 
 to Morpurgo's really lovely villa at Conegliano. The 
 
 roads all through this Venetia are beautiful, lined 
 
 [ 177 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 almost invariably with double rows of large shade 
 trees, which keep the highways in such perfect con- 
 dition. 
 
 We found Morpurgo, his mother, and sister, and 
 the Marchese Bourbon del Monte, whom they all call 
 *'Pippo," together with an American girl, a young 
 Belgian diplomat, and a Venetian nobleman, all as- 
 sembled on the broad terrace before the villa. Italians 
 certainly have the art of making one feel at home, and 
 as it was rather warm, we were glad to sit under the 
 shade of big garden umbrellas. 
 
 After lunch, as dear old Baroness Morpurgo is 
 very musical, I consented to sing some ballads for 
 her. They all were most appreciative and seemed to 
 enjoy the music. The Marchesa took me over the 
 house, and I took pictures to my heart's content. I 
 have rarely seen more beautiful pieces of Venetian 
 furniture than are in this villa, and Morpurgo's col- 
 lection of cups and blue ribbons gives colored and 
 brilliant proof of his many triumphs with wonderful 
 ** Moonlight" and "Honeymoon." I wish I could 
 find some mirrors, like those at Conegliano in the 
 drawing-room, of this beautiful Murano glass that one 
 sees so much of about here, but the treasure^ that 
 have hung in these old and stately villas are not to 
 be easily found in the shops of to-day. As I went 
 up with the Marchesa to her room, I cast an admiring 
 glance at her bedspread, made of beautiful squares of 
 filet lace alternated with squares of very fine "traforo" 
 embroidery. "I made it all myself," she said. "Do 
 you like it?" It was certainly beautiful, and this is 
 only one of the many instances I have seen of the 
 [178] 
 

AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 accomplishments of the Itahan noblewomen. The 
 Marchesa lives a very gay life, entertains a great 
 deal at her spacious and elaborate villa in Rome, 
 newly built a few years ago, and one house party fol- 
 lows another at Conegliano; but somehow these women 
 seem to find time to accomplish a great deal and do 
 it well. They invariably speak three or four languages 
 fluently, are generally fine riders and drivers, and it 
 is taken for granted that they are good managers, as 
 indeed they must be, to prove such capable hostesses. 
 Before we knew it, the sun was setting, and we had to 
 say good-bye. Baron Gino tried his best to make us 
 promise to bring our trunks and make a visit to-mor- 
 row, but letters are coming from Como insisting that 
 we arrive at the lake, so we must wait another year 
 to stay with the Morpurgos. I was sorry not to have 
 had time to stop a moment at the cathedral, where 
 Imogene tells me is a fine altar-piece by Giambattista 
 Cima (1459-15 1 7), who belonged to the school of 
 Giovanni Bellini, but one cannot see everything, and 
 friends are invariably better than sights. 
 
 The wonderful little maid had tucked all my be- 
 longings away in the motor trunk before I came up- 
 stairs from dancing this evening. They all did their 
 best to make us stay over for the next Concorso Ippico, 
 which is to be held at Bassano, about the same dis- 
 tance from here as Vicenza, in the opposite direction. 
 Theodoli promises in addition to the luncheon and the 
 fun we had at Vicenza, a box party at the little opera 
 house, and I should love dearly to stay and go. He 
 is going to ride, but I have taken good care not to 
 make any rash prophecies, as I might not be so suc- 
 [179] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 cessful in my predictions the second time. It is left 
 that he is to telegraph results. Good-night. My pen 
 will not write another word, I am so sleepy. When 
 we are well settled at Como, I will send you some 
 more news. 
 
 T. 
 
 [i8o] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Hotel Villa D'este, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 IT is rather late, and I had thought to wait before 
 writing you until I had seen some of my friends 
 about here, but our journey has been so beauti- 
 ful and to-night I feel so lonely, far away from 
 dear Venetia, that I think I must have a chat with 
 you before going to bed. 
 
 The Latins are certainly people of heart, of the 
 kind that gives as well as takes, and one of their pret- 
 tiest sentiments is the little expression, "Dire adieu 
 c'est toujours mourir un peu " (To say good-bye is 
 always a little bit to die), and when I said good-bye 
 at the villa, with the whole family filling my arms with 
 flowers and embracing me, making me promise to 
 come again, and showing their real regret at my leav- 
 ing, I assure you I was really sad to go away. The 
 little maid that has been so devoted to me came rush- 
 ing up at the last moment with an extra rose and a 
 forgotten handkerchief, and kissed my hand with tears 
 in her eyes. The old gardener had a bouquet almost 
 as big as myself arranged in the automobile as deco- 
 ration for "Antonio;" and as supreme compliment 
 to someone whom he must have really liked, Don 
 Marcantonio broke his life record, got up before nine 
 o'clock and bade us a collarless good-bye, but gave us 
 a hearty and charming invitation to return, though he 
 parenthesized it with the remark that "another time 
 you shall not leave so early in the morning." Had 
 [i8i] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 we not been carrying off Signora Forti with us, I am 
 sure I should have had the "blues," but as our hostess 
 was to make a visit in Vicenza, we were only too de- 
 lighted to take her with us; and so, amid flowers and 
 waving handkerchiefs and the entire array of servants, 
 some fifteen or twenty, lined up to salute us at the 
 gate, "Antonio" carried us hastily through the park 
 and out of sight of Noventa Padovana. 
 
 Vicenza was quickly reached, and Signora Forti 
 left safely with her friends. It seemed as if "Antonio" 
 were conscious of a loneliness also, and were rushing 
 to find new friends, for he sped over the highway to 
 Lonigo, where we had a delightful little visit with the 
 Prince and Princess Giovanelli. 
 
 As I have told you before, the Venetians are splen- 
 did horsemen, and Prince Giovanelli is devoted to 
 his four-in-hand, his hunters, and his stables in general. 
 It is really a pity that we could not stop there longer, 
 for the Princess is hospitable and charming, and it 
 is only one more example of the delights of Italian 
 visits. 
 
 We decided to stop for the night in Verona, which 
 F. B. had never seen before. I really had forgotten 
 that it is so picturesque, with its old, yet almost per- 
 fectly preserved, amphitheatre in one of the main 
 piazzas of the town. We took a stroll after dinner 
 around the various streets, bought the delicious grapes 
 of the country, numerous postal cards, and greatly 
 regretted that we could not stay longer. 
 
 Verona is the capital of the province of that name, 
 and is one of the eight that form "II Veneto" (Vene- 
 tia), the name that is given to the northeast part of 
 [182] 
 
PRINCESS GIOVANELLI 
 
 Lady-of-t he-Palace of H . M . Queen E I e n 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Italy. The Venetian dialect is said to be much softer 
 than any of the other Italian patois. The Romani- 
 zation of this province was attended with none of 
 the violent struggles of Lombardy and Piedmont, but 
 prospered greatly under the emperors. Verona has 
 been a treasure fought for, bled for, and for which 
 many hideous crimes have been committed. Verona 
 headed the league of Venetian cities against Frederick 
 Barbarossa. The merciless and terrible Ezzelino da 
 Romano coveted and took possession of the riches of 
 the town, about 1260, where he is still remembered for 
 his cruelty. Not long after "his most satisfactory 
 death" another Ghibelline was elected Podesta, or ruler 
 of the city, and it was then that the great princes of 
 the house of Scaliger della Scala succeeded to the 
 dominion of the city, and inaugurated the brilliant 
 period for which Verona is famous. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet are said to have lived and died 
 in the reign of Bartolomeo della Scala (i 301-1304), al- 
 though I must say that I was very much disillusioned by 
 the little back courtyard where rough stones — indeed, 
 a sort of rough trough — filled with visiting cards is 
 pointed out as the probable tomb of the two unhappy 
 lovers of Shakespeare's imagination. The balcony 
 too, that famous balcony, the golden aim of every 
 young actress to make live again, is so high in the 
 courtyard of what is shown as the Capulet house, 
 that Romeo ran the greatest possible danger of break- 
 ing his neck, if he really ever did attempt to scale 
 this height. 
 
 Of course I could write you stories all night of the 
 illustrious and terrible "Can Grande I" (1312-29), 
 [183] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the indomitable Scaliger who captured Vicenza, and 
 added proud Padova to his domains. "Can Grande," 
 Hke other despots, had two definite ambitions: to make 
 his seigniory secure and to enlarge it. It seems ter- 
 rible to realize that the beautiful country over which 
 we have just come between here and Padova was for 
 many years laid waste, and the poor peasants dragged 
 to one city or the other and held for ransom. 
 
 The Guelphs in Verona and the Ghibellines in 
 Padova were, alternately, persecuted, imprisoned, and 
 put to death; but in the end *'Can Grande," through his 
 conquests and his forceful personality, became one of 
 the chief powers in the whole peninsula. He was brave, 
 almost reckless, steadfast in his policies, and Dante, 
 who was frequently numbered among his guests, and 
 who, in gratitude for "my first refuge and first hos- 
 telry," dedicated the "Paradiso" to him, celebrated 
 his "carelessness of hardship and of gold, and his 
 doughty deeds from which enemies could not with- 
 hold their praise." On his death he bequeathed his 
 seigniory to his nephew Mastino (the family had a 
 fondness for canine appellations — great dog and 
 mastiff), who at first made a brilliant and aggressive 
 career. Assassination of brother by brother dark- 
 ened the last records of this family, and by 1500 even 
 Verona was lost to them. 
 
 We bought photographs of the elaborate tombs of 
 the Scaligers, whose stern Gothic forms immortalize 
 the severity of their dynasty. The ladder, which their 
 name bespeaks, and which was their family crest, 
 is many times duplicated in the decoration of the iron 
 railings. The architecture, too, of this proud city is 
 [184] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 very important, as it was the birthplace of Fra 
 Giocondo (1435-15 15), one of the famous architects 
 of the early Renaissance, and Michele Sanmicheli 
 (1484-1559) was also born here; you remember it was 
 this latter who endeavored to combine the beauty of 
 the Doric order with the grim strength of the military 
 fortifications, and so adorned the city with a series of 
 sumptuous palaces. Many of the fagades of the houses 
 are covered with paintings, as was customary. Here 
 too was born the famous Paolo Cagliari, but whom we 
 always speak of as the Veronese. It always amuses 
 me to see how many pictures in various galleries are 
 catalogued as his originals, but he loved the blue-eyed 
 lady of the blonde plats too much to have ever painted 
 her anything but well, and I think, if the truth were 
 known, wherever her hair is less beautiful than it should 
 be, and the eyes less full of expression, we can be rea- 
 sonably sure that some pupil was trying his best to 
 imitate the master. 
 
 On leaving Verona the road, which, by the way, I 
 think is about the most perfect of any we have had in 
 Italy, skirts for a short distance the lovely river Adige, 
 and goes almost in a straight line to Peschiera, which 
 was taken on the thirtieth of May, 1848, by the Pied- 
 montese under Manno, after a gallant defence by the 
 Austrian general. Rath. From here it turns along the 
 shores of the end of the great and beautiful Lake Garda 
 to Desenzano, where we stopped for luncheon at 
 the little hotel near the landing-place of the steamers 
 that ply up and down this lake. In the distance, on 
 the island across the water, we could see the beautiful 
 villa of Prince Don Scipione Borghese, and Vincenzo 
 [185] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 amused us greatly by telling how he astonished the 
 servants in the hotel recounting his hairbreadth escapes 
 and wonderful experiences that he made them all believe 
 he has had, as Prince Borghese's chauffeur, on his 
 world-tour journey; whereas, as a matter of fact, I 
 believe he has never seen this nobleman. 
 
 Lake Garda, the largest of the north Italian lakes, 
 is thirty-four miles in length, and belongs to Italy, 
 except the northern extremity, which is Austrian. 
 The vegetation is very luxurious all about the shores 
 of the lake. The water is very blue, and the *'car- 
 pione," or salmon trout, are excellent, as we proved at 
 luncheon. The lake was formerly known as Benaco, 
 and it is from the island on the western side, called 
 Garda, that it takes its present name. Saint Francis 
 of Assisi came here and founded a monastery. Before 
 that it was probably inhabited by the Romans. Like 
 all the other beautiful sites of this country, it has 
 been desired too often by different people, and de- 
 vastated by one successor after another. There is 
 a tradition that Dante Alighieri, during the time of 
 his stay in Gargagnago di Valpolicella, on visiting 
 the lake, landed on the island, expressing his admi- 
 ration for the saint of its foundation in his "Para- 
 diso." In the first years of the fifteenth century San 
 Bernardino of Siena inhabited the island, living for a 
 form of penance in one of the grottoes cut out of the 
 rock, still existing on the northern side at the edge of 
 the lake, increasing thereby the fame of the place. 
 In the beginning of the sixteenth century the cele- 
 brated Francesco Lechi, generally known as Lecheto, 
 carried on his theological studies here, and a sort of 
 [i86] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 amphitheatre was built, for the many students of 
 reHgion came as well as many foreigners of distinction. 
 In after years it was restored most elaborately by 
 the new owner, and became an hospitable home. It 
 was at this time, and from the frequent entertainments 
 of Count Lechi that the island took the name 
 that many still give it, "Isola Lechi." It served also 
 as a meeting-place for many of those Italians who 
 were planning their freedom; but in the summer of 
 1 82 1 spies of the Austrian police entered the palace, and 
 found many documents that caused the arrest of the 
 owner. He was allowed to go back to his island only 
 in 1825. At present it is owned by the Roman prince, 
 Scipione Borghese. Once again the island has under- 
 gone, as by enchantment, great changes. From one 
 end to the other are walks, winding paths, and bridges; 
 flowers follow in their appropriate season to make the 
 place a veritable paradise. To the back of the island 
 rises the palace amidst a forest of palms, oleanders, 
 magnolias, pomegranates, lime trees, peach trees, and 
 holly. Completely restored, enlarged in 1 894-1901 
 under the architect Rovelli of Genoa, it recalls some- 
 what the palace of the Doges in Venice, and is of a 
 rather Oriental Venetian architecture, even to detail 
 in decoration. A most lovely view is had from the 
 terrace of the garden. To one side is the rolling plain 
 of Valtenese, scattered with castles and villas, and 
 far in the distance one can see the towers of San 
 Martino and Solferino, while near by lies a little village 
 warmed by the sun and bathed by the waves of the 
 lake. 
 
 We ran quickly on from here to Brescia, where we 
 [187] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 had time to stay but a few moments. It is beauti- 
 fully situated at the foot of the Alps, and there are 
 many interesting things to be seen. When one is 
 motoring it is possible to see a great deal, even if 
 one only passes through the town, particularly if one 
 knows beforehand the special places of interest. We 
 took a flying glance at the magnificent Municipio for 
 which Palladio did the windows, but as I remember it, 
 the ornamentation is much too elaborate to suit my 
 personal taste. There is another Torre dell' Orologio, 
 or clock tower, like that at Venice, where the bell is 
 struck by two iron figures; another copy, you remem- 
 ber, is on Mr. Bennett's building of the "New York 
 Herald." 
 
 We hurried on over a delightful road to Bergamo, 
 where we concluded not to stop, for we can easily motor 
 out to the town from here. The country from Ber- 
 gamo to Lecco (the town situated at the head of that 
 portion of the Lake of Como to which it gives its name) 
 is picturesque in the extreme. During the latter part 
 of the journey near Erba, and around the head of 
 the other arm of Lake Como to Cernobbio, are scat- 
 tered innumerable beautiful villas, nestled away 'mid 
 flowery gardens on steep hillsides; and the much- 
 vaunted "Brianza," as this section of country is called, 
 fully came up to my expectation, with its many 
 mountains, lakes, beautiful clear air, and soft, warm, 
 autumn sunshine. This Hotel Villa d'Este was built 
 originally by the powerful family of Gallio, but was 
 sold in 1815 to the Princess Caroline of Wales. The 
 eccentric and unfortunate consort of the then Regent 
 of England had already begun her long peregrinations 
 fi88 1 
 
GARDENS OF THE HOTEL VILLA D ESTE 
 
 Once the Villa of II . M . Queen Caroline of England, 
 at C e r n b b i , Lake Coma 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 that in the course of five years brought her to Italy. 
 She gave to the villa its present name, "Este," as that 
 belonging to the House of Hanover, then on the throne 
 of England, which had its most ancient origin from 
 the Guelphs. Queen Caroline, you remember, was a 
 niece of George HI and the daughter of the Duke 
 of Brunswick. She made large additions and embellish- 
 ments to the villa, and the dedication was an occasion 
 of elaborate and brilliant festivity. Bernardo Bellini, 
 who was a friend and court singer to the Princess, and 
 often visited her during her stays on the lake, published 
 on this occasion a song which began thus: 
 
 "Dove Lario piu ridente 
 Specchio fa di Plinio al nido 
 Caro a Venere e a Cupido 
 Aureo tetto accoglie in sen." 
 
 Where the Larlo, laughing, 
 A mirror makes so rare 
 Of Pliny's happy love-nest, 
 Dear to Love and Venus fair, 
 And Aura comes murmuring 
 His welcome to the pair. 
 
 The hotel guests now have the benefit of the flow- 
 ery paths, which are very well kept. As a matter of 
 fact the gardens of the villa, that are so character- 
 istically Italian in arrangement and graceful construc- 
 tion, constitute the major attraction of this once 
 princely residence. Later Princess Caroline had a 
 small theatre built, which is now a part of the Hotel 
 Regina d' Inghilterra, and another fete was planned 
 for its opening. It is said that the Royal Lady went 
 [189] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 upon the scene in the costume of Columbine, reciting 
 and dancing quite beautifully; but whether this be 
 true or not, it is certain that the Villa d'Este has been 
 the scene of many of the extravagances of that Prin- 
 cess, who was at that time very lavish with her favor 
 to a most unworthy circle of parasites that fattened 
 on her generosity, but later exposed her to the cele- 
 brated and painful lawsuit and trial before the 
 House of Lords, where this supposedly frivolous queen 
 revealed her strength of mind. She was not convicted, 
 but the nervous worry wore out her life, and she died 
 August 7, 1821, having left Italy the previous year. 
 These historic memories, and the many magnificent 
 artistic traces left about the place, make it easy to 
 recall the interesting events, which add a certain roman- 
 tic glamour to the present-day, unusually attractive 
 hotel. 
 
 It seemed wiser for me to come directly here, in- 
 stead of trying to accept the series of invitations to 
 my friends' villas all around the shores of the lake, for 
 it would have meant only a constant moving of bag- 
 gage from one good friend to another; whereas from 
 here I can see them many times each day in one or 
 another of their homes, and can spare them and myself 
 baggage difficulties. I shall let you hear from me as 
 often as possible, but I know we shall be very busy 
 for the next few weeks. 
 
 [190] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 1AM sure you will recall our very good times here 
 at Como some years ago, when we stopped at 
 Bellagio; but I like this situation on the lake 
 where we are now very much better, and being 
 at the other end, our general outlook and impression 
 is entirely different. We are nearly opposite to Torno, 
 where Countess Taverna and her daughter-in-law have 
 twin villas. I sent word that we had arrived, and this 
 afternoon, when we were taking tea on the broad 
 terrace of the hotel, we noticed a smart motor-boat 
 making for the landing; Countess Taverna and her 
 daughter were soon coming up the steps, and we had 
 a delightful visit together. She is looking as hand- 
 some as ever; one rarely sees such fair skin and bril- 
 liant eyes on a woman whose hair is already as white 
 as snow. She is giving a luncheon for me this week, 
 and "Cocca," her daughter, has asked me to come as 
 often as I like to the villa for tennis, where they are 
 having a tournament just now. We have planned 
 also for an excursion to Canonica, where I am eagerly 
 looking forward to going over with the Countess her 
 lace school, now becoming famous; for the filet is so 
 perfect that it is almost impossible to tell the produc- 
 tions of the school from the real old fifteenth century 
 laces, and the Countess told me with evident pleasure 
 that the piece I ordered when last in Italy, but arranged 
 [191] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 to have kept for me until my arrival, has won the gold 
 medal at the Exposition in Milan. 
 
 Although we have been here but a few days, what 
 with the telephone and notes, I have found it neces- 
 sary to produce my American engagement tablet, 
 which, by the merest chance, I had in my motor trunk, 
 and already the morning and afternoon of nearly 
 every day for two weeks is planned for. It was 
 Countess Taverna who, on my decision to stay at a 
 hotel, instead of moving from one villa to another, 
 advised my taking the Villa d'Este as headquarters, 
 and on studying the map I can see that I was very 
 wise to accept her advice, for from here we can reach 
 easily all our friends, and make the interesting excur- 
 sions in various directions, as this seems to be a sort 
 of natural geographic centre for my plans. 
 
 We had scarcely said good-bye to the Countess, 
 and seen the boat push off, when another elegant and 
 much larger motor-boat steamed up to the wharf. I 
 knew in a moment that it must be the "Carlotta," 
 belonging to Mrs. Clark Fisher; for all who know any- 
 thing of present-day life at Como, know of the beauti- 
 ful American motor-boat and the hospitality of its 
 owner. Mrs. Fisher had written me she was coming 
 this afternoon to take me away, bag and baggage, to 
 her quaint villa a little farther down this shore of the 
 lake, and it was difficult for us to explain and persuade 
 our enthusiastic compatriot that we could not well 
 change our present plans, and that we should see a 
 good deal of her, even though not housed beneath 
 her roof. She is certainly most generous and kind, 
 and has placed the "Carlotta" absolutely at our dis- 
 [192] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 posal during our stay on the lake; but it was now too 
 late to go out on the water, so we are promised a long 
 ride to Bellagio to-morrow. Italy! Italy! It is surely 
 true that all those who are born outside your borders 
 have two countries — their own and Italy; for one cannot 
 be surrounded by the magic beauties of this fairyland 
 without succumbing completely to its enchantment. 
 
 After dinner F. B. and I took a stroll about the 
 gardens in the moonlight. The constant trickling of 
 the water flowing through small apertures at the top 
 of the hill, down a long series of sculptured step-like 
 inclines, seemed to play a sort of hypnotic melody as, 
 one by one, the stars appeared over Mount Boletto 
 across the way. The little steamers puffing up and 
 down the lake until quite late in the evening, gave a 
 touch of life to the whole scene, and in a way, saved 
 its reality, for without them one would have fancied 
 the whole place the perfection of a dream. 
 
 It is toward the latter end of the season, and many 
 of the foreign travellers have gone back to Paris and 
 London. Louise Duchess of Devonshire, left last week ; 
 Princess Teano we shall not see this year, as she has 
 gone from here, but it is just the ideal moment for 
 the villa life, so I shall find all my friends at home, 
 and am rather grateful than otherwise that the hotel 
 is to be somewhat quiet. There is a fairly good orches- 
 tra here, however, and F. B. and I had a jolly dance 
 before coming upstairs to-night. Our rooms look 
 directly over the lake and gardens, and from our 
 balcony we have the most lovely view imaginable. 
 You will say that Como has gone to my head, so I 
 will wait until another time to finish. T. 
 
 [193] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 We were ready and waiting when the "Carlotta'* 
 came into view around the promontory of the Villa 
 Volpi, and were soon comfortably seated on the deck 
 of this wonderful boat, making our way swiftly and 
 quietly toward the opposite bank, where at Torno we 
 stopped for a call on Countess Taverna, whose receiv- 
 ing day it is. The Villa Taverna I shall tell you more 
 about a little later, but to-day my impression was dis- 
 tinctly charming. The Countess has made a specialty 
 of the cultivation of rare roses, and on her porch are 
 some of the wonderful, rare, molten-gold variety that 
 I have never seen except at Mrs. Gardner's in Brook- 
 line. I walked out with Gwendolina Countess della 
 Somaglia, who had motored over with her sister the 
 Duchess Massimo (both born Princesses Doria) to 
 see the tennis courts, but we did not wait for tea, 
 as we had promised to take that with Mrs. Fisher 
 and her guest, the Baroness de la Grange, an American 
 by birth, who is stopping for a time with her friend on 
 the lake. 
 
 It is but a short run from Torno to the Villa Pli- 
 niana in the little bay Molina. A tug at the bell of 
 the outer gate brought the custodian quickly, and a 
 look at our cards of permission from the Marchesa 
 Trotti, who now owns the villa, assured us of every 
 attention and courtesy. The present villa was built 
 by Count Anguissola, who in 1547 had helped to 
 assassinate the ruffian ruler. Pier Luigi Farnese, Duke 
 [194] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of Parma and Piacenza. The Count, fearing ven- 
 geance, repaired thither and had constructed, in the 
 shadow of the protecting mountain, his villa, whither 
 he fled from suffering and troubles, and whither three 
 centuries later came the handsome prince and his 
 fair inamorata. Surely it was given to Prince Bel- 
 gioioso to have the impossible — the time, the place, 
 and the loved one all together; for to this romantic 
 Villa Pliniana, in a hidden and lonely corner of this 
 beautiful lake, at the base of the high mountain, 
 which seemed to shelter and protect by day, but which 
 must have seemed austere and forbidding at night. 
 Prince Emilio brought the beautiful blonde Duchess 
 of Plaisance. The story of the sudden and violent 
 attachment of these two members of great and strong 
 families reads much more strangely than many a 
 romance. Eight years of happiness Destiny gave to 
 them. 
 
 This beautiful Parisian runaway was born a prin- 
 cess of Wagram, the title which Napoleon I gave to 
 his great general, Berthier. She was a daughter of 
 that terrible and ferocious soldier who, in the bloody 
 Napoleonic battles at Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, and 
 Wagram, was a pre-eminent leader. The account goes 
 on to say that the two fugitives did not in any way 
 trouble themselves about the tremendous scandal that 
 followed their sudden flight from Paris, and the Duchess 
 was so far lost in her infatuation that she even forgot 
 she was abandoning a daughter. Her husband, the 
 Duke, declared her dead to the world, and the family 
 accentuated gossip by going into deep mourning. It is 
 said of the exquisite cameo-like beauty of the Duchess, 
 [195] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 that when she was in a carriage she carried her head 
 with a resolute air, but when she rode, she seemed the 
 archangel of battle. Already the villa had its tradi- 
 tions and its stories; and the mysterious spring, whose 
 rise and fall varies thrice daily beneath the quaint 
 little arches of Roman days, at one side of the court- 
 yard, is mentioned both by the older and the younger 
 Pliny. 1 Amid these mysterious waters and high, dark 
 cypress trees, with the ever-fitful swash of the waters 
 of the lake at their very door, these two lived on, 
 voluntary prisoners, quite alone, with but few ser- 
 vants, for eight years; and even amid the snows and 
 infuriated winds of winter, in the midst of desolation, 
 the fire of their romantic attachment made them quite 
 forget that there were others in the world, or that there 
 was any other world than that of their own making. 
 
 How did these lovers pass the long days of their 
 complete seclusion from the world? Surely, it must 
 have been an invincible passion in both, an infatua- 
 tion beyond the comprehension of most, that could 
 explain the abandonment of the life that they both, 
 up to the time of their flight, had thoroughly enjoyed. 
 Travel, theatres, dancing, a thousand gayeties of the 
 great metropolis of Paris — that city that entrances 
 all who know it — all abandoned that they might be 
 all in all to each other! As we listened to the waters 
 rushing down the side of the mountain we seemed to 
 hear, as in the distance, the sweet Italian voice of the 
 Prince to the accompaniment of the cymbalum of 
 Anna Maria. The Duchess is quoted as saying one 
 day in their boat on the lake, "A barque, thy heart, 
 and a good cook." 
 
 ^ Hence the name Villa Pliniana. 
 [196] 
 
VILLA PLINIANA, LAKE COMO 
 
 Taken by Mrs. Batchethr 
 
 ENTRANCE TO MRS. FISHEr's VILLA AT 
 URIO, LAKE COMO 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Meantime in Italy the struggles for freedom from 
 the foreign rule of Austria were being as assiduously 
 carried on as in the days when the young Belgioioso 
 lent his enthusiasm, intelligence, and great name to 
 the cause, but when the revolution of '48 broke out 
 in Milan, one of the most enthusiastic of the Milanese 
 conspirators, Baron Carlo Bellerio, ventured to thrust 
 himself beyond the portals of the Pliniana. He came 
 with the definite intention of seizing for Italy, and for 
 the cause of its freedom, this splendid man, who 
 seemed to have forgotten his patriotism in the supreme 
 happiness of his present life. 
 
 The account of the meeting between Bellerio and 
 the Duchess at the Pliniana gives us an insight into 
 the character of this extraordinary woman, whose life 
 is probably completely misunderstood by the average 
 reader of her story. 
 
 Women who have the rare power of self-control 
 and of mental concentration, whose pride in their own 
 mentality surpasses all else, and whose capacity for 
 inward suffering to save that pride is limitless, are 
 never really known but to themselves. 
 
 Without explanation, with every sign of the tired 
 lover, the Duchess, not so very long after this, left her 
 still adoring Prince, left the old villa with its tall 
 cypresses and flowing waters, and as the subtle proof 
 to those keen and subtle as herself that she was leaving 
 the Prince to his family, and for her great love of him 
 giving him back to his clamoring country, she took 
 up her abode in a villa nearly opposite the Pliniana, 
 from whose rooms the best possible view of the scene 
 of her elysian days could be had. 
 [197] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Belgioioso at last not only left the Pliniana, but 
 Lombardy and Italy, and sought distraction in travels 
 in the East; but even the great contrast of Eastern 
 life did not serve to revive his broken spirit. He 
 returned to Milan and in 1858 died in the Belgioioso 
 palace, which in his youth had been the scene of so 
 many exquisite musicales, and where his young and 
 beautiful voice, his charming personality, his wealth 
 and position had made him the centre of a most bril- 
 liant circle. 
 
 There is something inexpressibly sad in the whole 
 atmosphere of the Villa Pliniana. The rooms are still 
 exquisitely furnished; books on the tables, everything 
 as if it were but yesterday when the happiness this 
 place had known had been so rudely destroyed. The 
 little spring that young Pliny describes in his letter to 
 Licinio, that rises in the morning, increases at noon, 
 and at night diminishes its flow, only to begin again 
 with infinite regularity ("Huius mira naturg ter in die 
 statis auctibus ae diminutionibus crescit decresitque"), 
 seems as if it were the expression of Nature, which 
 mocks at life, its frailties, its temporary pleasures, and 
 its failures. The tall cypresses in their eternal green 
 seemed to-day appropriate emblems of this tomb of 
 happiness, and the great glorious eyes that looked 
 down at me from the famous portrait of the Princess 
 Belgioioso seemed like those of an avenging goddess 
 for whom Destiny had brought order to the house- 
 hold; for during the eight years of her husband's en- 
 chantment — for we can scarcely call it by any other 
 name — the Princess Belgioioso was as indefatigable as 
 ever in the cause of her beloved country. The scandal 
 [198] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 occasioned by the flight of her husband left her, so 
 far as the world could see, indifferent. One is not 
 born of brave and noble ancestors to be a weakling. 
 Her dignity and her pride defended her, and prevented 
 her from giving any manifestation of what must have 
 been for her a terrible mortification. She spoke not 
 of, and no one dared speak to her regarding her 
 trouble. 
 
 The Princess Belgioioso's eventful life makes her 
 one of the most striking figures in the history of the 
 struggle of the Italians for the re-establishment of 
 their national identity. Beautiful, cultured, and bril- 
 liant, she was married at an early age to Prince Bel- 
 gioioso, with whom, however, she soon found it diflficult 
 to live, though political friends she and her husband 
 always were, for both were ardently patriotic, and 
 both gave much of their large wealth to the cause of 
 Italian liberty. The story of the life of this princess 
 reads much more fantastically than many a romance 
 of fiction; her flight to Switzerland to escape the Aus- 
 trian agents, who sought her arrest and seized her 
 property; her modest beginning in Paris when Thiers 
 used to come and have a lunch of eggs with her and 
 buy her painted fans; and later her brilliant salon, 
 where, by her brains and wit, she drew around herself a 
 remarkable coterie of brilliant men and women, and 
 succeeded in gaining for her country many powerful 
 friends. 
 
 No one better understood in those days the power 
 
 of the press to form public opinion than Christine 
 
 Belgioioso, and a glance at the periodicals of the time 
 
 shows her to have been a mistress in the art of placing 
 
 [199] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 before the people the facts of the time in a way to 
 turn their minds in the direction she wished. She 
 threw herself with all her energies into this task, and 
 wrote, inspired, corrected, and collaborated with the 
 journalists of the day. In 1845 she founded at Paris 
 an Italian paper called ''Gazzetta Italiana." A woman 
 of brains and brilliancy who has the temerity to be 
 beautiful, graceful, and charming is never pardoned 
 by the world; let her turn her steps in whate'er direc- 
 tion she will, she will find vipers of jealousy who will 
 endeavor to attack her from every side. So it was 
 with Christine Belgioioso; but it seemed to be pos- 
 sible for her either to parry these unjust attacks or 
 to carry herself with such superb hauteur as to make 
 herself, apparently at least, well-nigh invulnerable. 
 The greater portion of her fortune went to the beloved 
 cause of her country, which she lived to see freed and 
 under the rule of the House of Savoy, whose history 
 she has so cleverly written in her book, "Histoire de 
 la Maison de Savoie," that she had published just at 
 the time when she knew it would best serve the cause. 
 Christine Belgioioso was among the first to realize that 
 France alone was in a position to give moral encourage- 
 ment, and perhaps the indispensable material aid to 
 the regeneration of its Latin sister. She visited Louis 
 Napoleon in England, and gained the reply of that 
 astute man, **Let me first arrange France, then we 
 will attend to Italy.'* 
 
 When the revolution of '48 broke out in Milan the 
 
 Princess was in Naples. She gathered together two 
 
 hundred and fifty men, and putting herself at their 
 
 head embarked for the scene of trouble. It is doubtful 
 
 [200] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 if this military move on her part added any real suc- 
 cess to the crisis of the moment, but the picture of 
 this woman alone and unaided taking such decided 
 and forceful action shows the calibre of Christine 
 Belgioioso's character. 
 
 The Princess died when but sixty-three years old, 
 but her life had been so full of sudden events that 
 Nature refused to postpone the payment of the rav- 
 ages done by the will of steel and passionate ardor of 
 the Princess' long battle for her country. She died 
 in her beloved Milan and lived to see the happy pic- 
 ture of Italy arrived at that greatness for which she 
 had worked so well at home and abroad. 
 
 Two portraits in the billiard-room of the Pliniana 
 attracted my attention because of their sad historic 
 story also, which seemed to correspond with this villa 
 of tragic destiny. They were those of Giovanni 
 Galeazzo Visconti, who died in 1494, and Isabella of 
 Aragon, Duchess Sforza, who is perhaps the most 
 tragic figure among the women of the Renaissance, for 
 it was her fate to see not only the fall of the house into 
 which she had married, but that of her own father, Fer- 
 dinand of Aragon, King of Naples; and she ended her 
 unhappy life in 1497. To the Pliniana also came Na- 
 poleon Bonaparte in 1797, dreaming of new victories. 
 
 I am sure I was very poor company at tea, which 
 we had at the little laiterie quite near the Pliniana; 
 but Mrs. Fisher was very amiable, and I think quite 
 understood my feelings, for it is whispered that the 
 villa that now belongs to my American friend is none 
 other than that which was bought by the unhappy 
 Duchess after leaving Belgioioso. As Mrs. Fisher 
 [201 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 reads her correspondence in the morning she must 
 often think of the Frenchwoman who, in the very- 
 same room, opened the many letters seeking aid from 
 those distressed and sorrowing beings, who never 
 found refusal at the hands of the broken-hearted 
 Duchess, and who from this room could ever enjoy 
 the beautiful view of her beloved Pliniana. That the 
 story has profoundly impressed more than one artistic 
 soul is proved by the fact that many years even before 
 the death of the Duchess, about the time that Belgioioso 
 died, there was published in Paris a drama in four acts, 
 called "La Fiammina," by Mario Uchard. 
 
 After tea the "Carlotta" took us quickly up the 
 lake, and the lights on the mountains at the sunset 
 hour were far too beautiful for me to hope to describe. 
 I wish poor Mr. Lumiere could live long enough to 
 complete his wonderful invention of colored photog- 
 raphy, for the limit to one plate is, after all, most 
 unsatisfactory. 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 This has been one of the red-letter days of my jour- 
 ney, though all things can be judged only by compari- 
 son; and, generally speaking, in comparison with most 
 autumns, my Italian September and October have been 
 comprised principally of red-letter days. 
 
 We left here at eleven o'clock, and took the beauti- 
 ful ride to Como, past the superb villa of the Duke 
 Visconti di Modrone at Olmo (elm), which Marianna, 
 [ 202 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the Duchess, has arranged for me to see whenever I 
 Hke, and continued through this mountainous country 
 of the "Brianza" to Varese. Here it was necessary 
 to inquire very carefully in order to find the little 
 side road leading to another of Italy's hidden glories, 
 at Gazzada, the villa of Don Guido Cagnola of Milan, 
 a nephew of the Marchesa Trotti, with whom we are to 
 take tea to-morrow at her villa at Bellagio. Countess 
 Zucchini-Solimei of Bologna, the sister of Don Guido, 
 acts as the charming and hospitable hostess of this 
 bachelor paradise. 
 
 Detailed description of this great palace with its 
 exquisite furnishings, its collections of rare china and 
 pottery, porcelains and majolica, its hangings of incom- 
 parable gobelins, its priceless collection of paintings 
 of the best Italian masters, its artistic and elaborate 
 furniture, the whole enhanced by a profusion of rare 
 orchids, shaggy odd-colored chrysanthemums, and dark 
 glorious purple violets, is not easy, as you will see, 
 with the pen. The villa and its treasures in its present 
 form are due largely to the energy and intelligence 
 of Don Guido's father. Senator Carlo Cagnola, a man 
 of great wealth and artistic appreciation, whose fame 
 as a connoisseur and collector not only in Italy but 
 throughout the art world is well known. 
 
 The vast park is arranged in miniature propor- 
 tions as a copy of the gardens of the Crystal Palace 
 of London. The villa is famous even among those 
 who do not know the rare treasures of its interior. 
 It has the general plain outlines of the seventeenth 
 century villeggiatura, and a colonnaded series of 
 three passageways is curiously arranged directly 
 [203 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 under a part of the villa. It was built by Perabo, 
 who did a great deal to make it beautiful, but prob- 
 ably did not finish it, and it was greatly changed by 
 the Senator Carlo Cagnola. In its seventeenth cen- 
 tury splendor the interior, as one author says, "seems 
 a gay and fitting setting for the great ladies of that 
 time seated on the many beautiful divans listening to 
 the sweet nothings of the gallant cavaliers, and enjoy- 
 ing the delicate perfume that entered from the gardens 
 by the great windows of the drawing-room." 
 
 The situation, I think, is the most beautiful of any 
 villa I have yet seen in Italy. It stands on a high hill 
 overlooking the town of Varese, that is situated on the 
 shores of the lake of the same name, and commands 
 a magnificent view that extends even to the white 
 snows of Monte Rosa in the dim distance. In its 
 immediate proximity are great noble pines, spruce, 
 cedar, and many other forest trees, while the broad 
 terrace in front of the house has the indispensable and 
 ever beautiful Italian fountain, about which at vary- 
 ing angles and curves are placed the paths, lined with 
 rare flowers that seem to thrive in artistic perfection 
 under the hand of the skilled Italian gardener. 
 
 I suppose there are greenhouses somewhere on the 
 place; I suppose that somebody some time must do a 
 great deal of work on these lovely gardens of Italy, 
 but the gardeners must work when the plants grow, 
 for you see the effect of both and the actual accom- 
 plishment of neither. In all my walks in the various 
 gardens of the many villas where we have been I 
 have never seen a part of a flowered hedge faded or 
 destroyed by some wretched worm, as is so often the 
 [204] 
 
Taken by Mrs. Baicheller 
 
 VILLA CAGNOLA AT GAZZADA, LOMBARDY 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 case with us at home, nor have I ever seen anybody- 
 working over these same perfect formal gardens, for 
 perfect they must be to fulfil the design and intent 
 of their making. I took a great many pictures, and I 
 wish I had been indiscreet enough to take one of the 
 luncheon table, that I might send it to you, who have 
 always so many delightful ideas yourself of table deco- 
 ration; but imagine the table, large, for twenty-five 
 people (a small luncheon as the hospitable Italian 
 calls it), laid out from its centre nearly to the edge 
 of the plates of each person in a miniature Italian 
 garden, with a mirror serving for greensward and tiny 
 exquisitely worked Murano porcelain replacing the 
 hedges, while the flowers, great deep purple violets 
 with different lengths of stem, filled the decorative 
 garden vases, also of finely worked Murano porcelain, 
 in sizes appropriate to the rest of the fairy garden. 
 I am not a gourmand as you know, and all Italians 
 are natural-born cooks, but when these charming 
 friends of mine give a luncheon in my honor you may 
 be sure that the cooking is more than par excellence. 
 Later in the afternoon Don Guido took us at my 
 request over the villa, for even though they possess 
 the treasures of the earth, the Italians never lose their 
 simplicity, and none despises more than they ostenta- 
 tion or display. When Don Guido saw, however, that 
 I not only admired, but really could appreciate his 
 wonders, he was kindness itself, and spared no pains to 
 let me see them all. In his own room is one of the 
 rarest of mediaeval tapestries, and I took a picture of 
 his favorite Madonna, the authorship of which is still 
 disputed. 
 
 [205I 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 In my enthusiasm about all the beautiful things 
 that I am seeing, I must not forget to remind you 
 that one's creature comforts in these villas are now 
 adequately provided for, a fact that is generally dis- 
 believed by my more unfortunate compatriots that 
 have not had the opportunity and rare pleasure of 
 seeing for themselves. 
 
 During the luncheon Countess Zucchini asked me 
 if I had seen the Madonna del Monte, and on my 
 admission of never having heard of this pilgrimage 
 church, she advised my visit there on the way back to 
 Como. So it is that my friends are constantly helping 
 me to see so many interesting things which assuredly 
 I should miss were it not for their kindness. We 
 were among the last motors to go from the villa this 
 afternoon, but have promised to return another day, 
 and yet we had stayed so long that we barely had 
 time to make the interesting excursion to the sanctuary 
 of Madonna del Monte — sopra Varese. 
 
 I have thoughtfully asked myself these last few 
 days why the average traveller knows so little of the 
 glories of this wonderful Brianza country; but I sup- 
 pose it is because all Italy is beautiful, and I think the 
 especial charm lies in the fact that each and every 
 section differs so completely one from another. 
 
 The church of Madonna del Monte is situated 
 on the very top of a jagged mountain that seems to 
 be intended by Nature more for the nests of eagles 
 than for the abode of man or the object of his jour- 
 neys, but the story is told of a young girl called *'Beata 
 Caterina Rufhni da Pallanza," born in 1437, who was 
 left an orphan when the plague swept the village of 
 [206] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Pallanza and deprived her of both father and mother. 
 She devoted herself to prayer and penitence, making 
 a vow of perpetual virginity, and in 1448 gave herself 
 over to a religious life. She is said to have had an 
 apparition, when she was told that her chosen place of 
 worship should be the Sacra Monte. Here she went 
 when but fifteen years old, hiding herself in a grotto 
 hardly large enough for her to move about in, and 
 here she inflicted upon herself all the physical punish- 
 ments that her overwrought imagination believed would 
 add to the beauty of her soul. Her strange, extra- 
 ordinary life and conduct drew the attention of the 
 public, and many people came to see her. A few 
 years later she was joined by another young woman, 
 who begged to associate herself with Caterina. She 
 was received with open arms as a sister, and became 
 later famous as the blessed Giuliana da Verghera. 
 Many and many other young women joined these 
 two, but not without the recriminations and protes- 
 tations of their paternal houses to a point where 
 Caterina was threatened with excommunication. She, 
 however, adopted the rule of Saint Augustine, and 
 begged the Pope's permission to erect a monastery 
 where she and her companions might continue their 
 holy life. Sixtus IV in 1745 listened to their prayers, 
 and a monastery was built on the ruins of the ancient 
 fortress whose towers in the sixteenth century were 
 converted into the oratorio and church above the crypt 
 consecrated by Saint Ambrose. In 1798 the Cisalpine 
 government suppressed the monastery, and appro- 
 priated the patrimony of the sanctuary. Some of the 
 old nuns, with the faith of being able to continue their 
 [207] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 religious life, remained in these localities, until a rich 
 woman left her inheritance to the monastery, which 
 obtained from the Emperor Francis I the desired per- 
 mission to again continue its religious work. To-day, 
 enriched by new buildings, it has even added a meteor- 
 ological institute. 
 
 The approach to the church from Varese leads 
 through various closely connected hamlets, through 
 an archway, to the first of fifteen votive chapels. 
 These are decorated with many frescoes, and about 
 the altars are many groups in painted stucco, illus- 
 trating the mysteries of the rosary, and lastly the 
 statue of Moses is placed in the niche of a great foun- 
 tain. At the fourth chapel we left the car to purchase 
 rosaries and souvenirs at the little stands lining the 
 walk up the mountain, to induce the faithful to take 
 with them new rosaries to receive a special blessing 
 at the end of their pilgrimage. We decided not to ask 
 the car to make this tremendous climb, but to continue 
 our way up the mountain on foot, that we might the 
 more enjoy the completeness of this beautiful view. 
 One could easily see the lakes of Comabbio, Bian- 
 dronno, Monate, and Varese, two portions of the Lake 
 Maggiore, and even a part of Lake Como, while the 
 fruitful and beautiful plain was visible almost as far 
 as Milan. It seems that these fifteen chapels (to com- 
 memorate the fifteen mysteries of the rosary) were 
 constructed for the repose of the numberless pilgrims 
 who flocked thither to Sacra Monte. The original 
 idea was promulgated by a Capuchin monk, who by 
 reason of his ministry came often to the summit of 
 the mountain, and from his own fatigues probably 
 [208I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 realized those of the numerous suffering pilgrims. 
 The people of the surrounding country responded with 
 almost hysterical enthusiasm, and even gave their 
 clothes when they had nothing else to give, and in a 
 very short time a million "lire" were provided for the 
 erection of these elaborate and quaint votive chapels. 
 
 The mystic charm of the place at the sunset hour 
 drew about us a sort of "soft melancholy" (dolce 
 melancolia) as the Italians say, though we had ap- 
 proached the shrine more with a sense of admiration 
 of the beautiful than from any deep religious fervor. 
 
 What should we see on emerging from the church, 
 but Vincenzo and the automobile almost at the door 
 of the church ! I was almost cross with him for having 
 made the car practically go up the side of a house, for 
 the stone ascent is so steep that it is continually 
 ridged across with stone work, and the last half of the 
 way is practically a series of long steps, but we reached 
 home without accident. More to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lagodi Como, October 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Luncheon with Countess Taverna was as pleasur- 
 able as I expected, and this time, instead of going 
 across the lake, we went with the car through Como, 
 along the road that is laid out high up on the hill on 
 the east side of the lake, where we had beautiful 
 views not only of the town of Torno, near which is 
 Villa Taverna, but of the opposite shores, where the 
 towns of Moltrasio and Urio nestle close to the water's 
 [209] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 edge. We left the car shortly after entering the gate, 
 for we preferred to walk slowly down the winding path, 
 which is lined on both sides with the most beautiful 
 foliage and rose beds that I have seen in many a day. 
 Our arrival had scarcely been announced, when the 
 Countess with true Italian charm and courtesy met us 
 half-way down the path, and greeted us with a welcome 
 that was soon repeated by the Count and his daughter 
 at the door of the villa. Among the guests was a very 
 amiable gentleman who bore the historic name one 
 associates with Rimini, Count Malatesta, and I do not 
 suppose it ever entered his imagination that a foreign 
 lady would remember the woful deeds and valiant vic- 
 tories of his probable ancestor of many centuries ago. 
 In the present-day guest at the Villa Taverna one 
 found only a delightful middle-aged gentleman of 
 courtly manners and interesting personality. 
 
 In the first half of the eighteenth century Don 
 Caetano Taverna, descended from the brother of the 
 Grand Chancellor, bought the "Villa of the Pearls" 
 from Zanzi. Taverna was a man devoted to public 
 affairs, was a deputy to the Provincial Congress, and 
 presided over many important works of charity. 
 Dying in 1846, he left the villa to his heirs, who have 
 preferred it above all others for a summer sojourn; 
 surely its aspect is really grandiose, as it juts out 
 prominently into the lake, its ample and symmetrical 
 construction standing out in bold relief amidst the 
 luxurious gardens and flowers. You will remember, 
 also, that the Countess Taverna was born a princess 
 of that famous family, Boncompagna-Ludovisi, both 
 branches of which came originally from Bologna. 
 [210] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Both also gave a great and powerful pope to the 
 Vatican — Gregory XIII and Gregory XVI. 
 
 Count Taverna is one of Italy's most distinguished 
 noblemen, a senator and statesman whose able coun- 
 sels are much sought and highly considered. He 
 also gives much money and time to charity, and 
 holds the position of President of the Italian Red 
 Cross Society. If the Countess has been a long- 
 beloved Lady-in-waiting to Queen Margherita, the nu- 
 merous photographs of the late King Umberto signed 
 with affectionate dedication by the Royal hand prove 
 the Count to have been held very high in His Majesty's 
 regard. Both the Count and Countess speak excel- 
 lent English, and I was surprised to learn how much 
 interested and how well informed the Count was in 
 our American national politics. Already it seems that 
 the statesmanlike qualities of President Taft are begin- 
 ning to be appreciated the length and breadth of 
 Europe, and Count Taverna expressed his admiration 
 of our President as being one of the most cultured men 
 and one of the great statesmen of the world to-day. 
 
 After luncheon I took some photographs of the 
 Countess Cocca, and her two visiting friends, Signo- 
 rina Brambilla and Signorina Pansa (a daughter of 
 the Italian Ambassador at Berlin), all of them pretty 
 girls, but not one of them detracted, even with their 
 youth, from the stately and handsome Countess in 
 their midst. Signorina Pansa's mother is said to be 
 the handsomest woman in the diplomatic circle at the 
 Court of Berlin, and she is one of the most graceful 
 and charming hostesses in the German capital, as I can 
 personally testify. Her balls have always an Italian 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 touch, and the winter I passed in Bedin she conceived 
 the pretty idea of having an immense gondola made 
 completely of flowers, and hung with swinging lanterns 
 similar to those used by the musicians in the canals at 
 Venice; in the midst of the cotillon it was pushed 
 into the ballroom on tiny hidden wheels. One by one 
 the flowers were distributed as favors, and beneath them 
 were found pretty knick-knacks, many of which I still 
 keep as a souvenir of one of the most delightful dances 
 I remember. I was glad of an opportunity to see her 
 daughter again under her own sunny skies. 
 
 After the pictures, when the girls had started 
 playing some of the last matches of their tennis tourna- 
 ment, Mrs. Fisher kindly came, and offered to take 
 me in the "Carlotta" for our promised tea with the 
 Marchesa Trotti, at her villa farther up the lake at 
 Bellagio. This villa of the Marchese Lodovico Trotti- 
 Bentivoglio is one of the oldest villas on the Lake of 
 Como. Its particularly beautiful position rendered it 
 celebrated at the beginning of the last century, and its 
 exceptional tropical and exotic garden to-day maintains 
 its fame. It was done over in 1850, and the major 
 part, I should think, is in Moorish style. 
 
 The Marchesa Trotti is, like the Taverna, a much- 
 beloved Lady-in-waiting to Queen Margherita. She 
 greeted us most cordially at the landing, and suggested 
 a stroll about the gardens before taking tea. The 
 Marchese joined us, and led us through winding paths 
 in and out, which constantly assumed a more tropical 
 aspect; closely planted bamboo lined many of the walks, 
 and fuchsias, enormous in size and profuse in blos- 
 soms, made an unusual and brilliant border to many 
 [212] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 other parts of the garden path. The Marchese him- 
 self, Hke many of the Italian noblemen, has personally 
 directed the construction of this wonderful garden, 
 which is said to be the finest and most unique in Italy. 
 I send you a picture that will make you feel that I 
 have been in Japan rather than on the Lake of Como, 
 and I assure you I felt so, as we stood on the tiny 
 bridge and looked up the little artificial river crowded 
 with rare water plants up to the very edge of the minia- 
 ture island, on which is built a little Japanese summer- 
 house. The Marchesa patiently waited while I took 
 many pictures, and then guided us back through the 
 labyrinth of blooms to the villa for tea. 
 
 Although the Marchesa is no longer young, the 
 brilliancy of her eyes, the sweetness of her smile, and 
 her splendid bearing, make her still a most attractive 
 woman, and I hope to have the opportunity and privi- 
 lege of seeing much of her during my stay on the lake. 
 She is a daughter of the Princess Belgioioso, and the 
 Pliniana was a part of her dowry on her marriage to the 
 Marchese Trotti, and while she keeps the famous villa 
 in excellent repair, it is not strange that she rarely goes 
 there, or that she prefers her own spacious and beautiful 
 villa at Bellaggio. Prince Hercolani and his brother are 
 planning to make their annual visit to her in a few days, 
 and I dare say we shall see them frequently. 
 
 Several friends came in to tea, so that I did not like 
 to ask to disturb the party for a picture of the quaint 
 and peculiarly decorated room where we were, but I 
 shall doubtless go again, and may have another more 
 favorable opportunity, for I dislike very much to have 
 my camera a nuisance. 
 
 [213] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 On the way home we crossed over to Cadenabbia 
 for a call on the Stoddards at their Villa Maria, for 
 Mrs. Fisher is inviting them to tea with her to- 
 morrow. 
 
 You see I am not over-enthusiastic after all, for 
 here is Mr. Stoddard, who has spent his life in travel- 
 ling the wide world around, and who finds Como and 
 its shores the one place where he wishes to live. 
 
 Here he can find rest, peace, and pleasant friends 
 better than anywhere else, he believes. This is a 
 long letter, and you see my days are very full. More 
 to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have had lunch with Mrs. Fisher at her villa. 
 She has one interesting engraving showing Raphael 
 sketching on the head of a barrel the "Madonna of 
 the Chair" from a peasant woman standing in a door- 
 way. Was this famous picture painted in this way, I 
 wonder? Mrs. Fisher's bedroom is most peculiar in 
 its coloring and stucco; tiny scenes of the monuments 
 of Rome form a frieze about the top of the walls, and 
 are framed in a colored stucco of roses, which extends 
 well out on to the ceiling. 
 
 As one approaches the villa from the landing, the 
 steps by which one goes up to the main house are 
 decorated on either side by two life-size Cupids, the 
 one playing a viol, the other a 'cello, and they almost 
 convinced me, with many other little details about the 
 [214] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 house, that this is the actual place where the Duchess 
 de Plaisance lived out her life of expiation. 
 
 A small house at one side of the grounds contains 
 but one large room, built apparently for music alone. 
 An organ is well placed, and the shape of the room 
 arranged for good acoustic results. The ceiling is 
 decorated in modern colorings, of carved wood, in 
 designs that complete the idea of a music room. 
 Many photographs of her large anvil works in New 
 Jersey bespeak Mrs. Fisher's business life; for, like 
 myself, she has had a good deal to do with stern 
 business relations and situations at home. On the 
 death of her husband she assumed the direction of 
 the large business of which he had been the head and 
 owner. She has the decoration of the Red Cross for 
 the volunteer help she rendered at the time of the 
 Johnstown disaster. Here at Como she wisely takes 
 a few months rest each year, and the Italians about 
 the lake have shown her many courtesies. I was not 
 surprised when she told me that shortly before the 
 regatta she had been made a member of the yacht 
 club of the lake, and that the "Carlotta" won the 
 gold medal, for it certainly is the most perfect boat 
 of the kind I have ever seen in its compact and excel- 
 lent arrangements for every comfort. 
 
 After lunch we ran up to Bellagio for some of the 
 silk shawls from the silk factories, of which there are 
 many about the lake, for the whole country about the 
 plains of Milan is thickly planted with mulberry trees, 
 and the cultivation of the silk worm is carried on at 
 present with the greatest success, so that Italian silk 
 is coming into great demand all the world over. Indeed 
 [215] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 I find that the underwear that we call at home "Ital- 
 ian silk" is made at the factories in this immediate 
 vicinity. Count Taverna, I know, has large proper- 
 ties and interests in the silk manufacture, and he is 
 only one of many rich noblemen who are interesting 
 themselves successfully in this industry. 
 
 The *'Carlotta" brought us safely home in time for 
 dinner. Just as we drew up to the landing, the Mar- 
 chesa Casati and her friends were returning also from 
 a row on the lake. They had motored down from 
 Balsamo, their summer villa near Milan, and the 
 Marchesa has asked us to dine with her the latter part 
 of this week. What did people do before the invention 
 of automobiles.? It seems to me the whole world has 
 been quartered in size,^ and society made infinitely 
 broader and more agreeable from the possibility of 
 having a larger circle of friends that one can see so 
 easily and so often. To-morrow will be another busy 
 day. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 It has been impossible to write for a few days, we 
 have been so very busy, and have repeated many of the 
 good times and luncheons in the various villas that I 
 have written you about already; but yesterday morning 
 we had a genuine surprise, for who should appear at 
 the early hour of ten o'clock but Prince Hercolani, 
 who has come up from Bologna and is on his way to 
 Marchesa Trotti's, where to his regret he is only to 
 make a call, as his affairs in Bologna will not permit of 
 [216] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 his staying away just now, as he had expected. We 
 have been so busy that until this morning I had seen 
 very Uttle of the gardens at the back of the villa. We 
 took a stroll up the hillside to the top of the fountain, 
 under which the highroad from Cernobbio to the next 
 town is curiously cut, the hillside on which the foun- 
 tain flows serving as a sort of bridge. In a high recess 
 at the top of these long cascades, lined on both sides 
 with roses, is placed a huge statue of Hercules, and 
 various paths wind away from the fountain and on 
 through the wooded garden. After luncheon Herco- 
 lani took the steamer for Marchesa Trotti's, and we 
 went off in the motor to take pictures, and to see the 
 wonders of the Villa Visconti at Olmo. 
 
 The villa was built on the ruins of a former villa 
 of Caninio Ruffo, and was the favorite seat of Pliny 
 the Younger, who is supposed to have planted one of 
 the old elm trees on the small lawn toward the lake 
 in front of the palace; this incident undoubtedly gives 
 the name (Olmo, Elm) to the villa. It was seized in 
 1845 by Austria, and became a barrack — a fact that 
 seems too dreadful to recall. So magnificent is this 
 villa in its decoration and perfection of architecture, 
 that King Umberto came here to gather ideas for the re- 
 decorating and restoring of the Royal Castle at Monza, 
 shortly before his tragic death. The great ballroom 
 in the central part of the house, where in many villas 
 is an open courtyard, is left the height of the three 
 stories of the villa, and a balustrade is built, on to 
 which many of the rooms of the second story open. 
 Numerous elaborate Venetian chandeliers form grace- 
 ful and decorative means of lighting, and the sculp- 
 [217] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tured tablets all about the room, together with the 
 many marble decorations, make it superb and elegant 
 in every respect. In 1872 it became the property of 
 Duke Guido Visconti di Modrone, who made great 
 changes and added much to the magnificence of the 
 decorations both within and without. Olmo has 
 offered hospitality to Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria, 
 Maria Christina of Savoy, wife of the great Vittorio 
 Emanuele II, and to Garibaldi. On the front of the 
 roof of the villa was added in pure Ionic style a richly 
 carved coat-of-arms of the Visconti, sustained on both 
 sides by colossal cupids, surmounted by the ducal 
 crown, thus covering the motto Olmo, which originally 
 was written directly on the front of the villa. The 
 arrangement of the rooms is unusual and altogether 
 fortunate. The drawing-rooms of the lower floor 
 toward the garden are elaborate and brilliant in their 
 decoration, having the advantage of floods of sunlight. 
 The dining-room is hung with rare tapestries, 
 ("arazzi"), that show the stem of the House of 
 Anguissola quartered with that of the Visconti. The 
 chamber of the late Duke is very large, and filled with 
 arms and many trophies of the present and past. As 
 in many of these princely houses, there is the com- 
 pletely equipped miniature theatre with its stage, its 
 scenery, representing usually a wood, and in this case, 
 its rows of regular theatre chairs. What good times 
 these great families must have with their impromptu 
 comedies, charades, and games! Surely the Italians 
 enjoy life to the fullest! 
 
 The custodian of the villa, according to directions 
 of the Duke and Duchess, opened all the suites for 
 [218] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 my benefit, for the palace is at the present time the 
 property of the widowed Duchess; but there are suites 
 arranged for the sons of the household with their 
 families, whenever they choose to come here. How- 
 ever, as they all have, with their vast wealth, several 
 villas of their own, this great and glorious palace is 
 left, for the most part, unoccupied. The stairway is 
 the finest of any villa we have seen, with its a-ncient 
 tapestries and mediaeval torch-holders. The armory 
 on the second floor is hung with the armor worn by 
 many of the famous bearers of this great name, whose 
 portraits hang upon the walls. There is a most beau- 
 tiful view from the central balcony of the gardens in 
 front of the villa and the lake and mountains beyond. 
 Everywhere, even in the carpet flowers of the formal 
 garden, is to be seen the Visconti viper devouring the 
 child, but the park at the back of the palace (for it 
 is much too gorgeous to be termed a villa) is left in 
 the natural grandeur of its great trees, the inevitable 
 "tempietto" or little temple of the Italian garden 
 being placed at the end of a broad path in this beau- 
 tiful forest. 
 
 Of course you know that of all the despots of the 
 Middle Ages the Visconti were by far the greatest and 
 most powerful. They were, however, not firm in their 
 dominions until the gallant Henry VH of France, 
 Dante's hope, came down into Italy to revive the 
 empire. Henry did not revive the empire, but he lent 
 his strength to his allies, "Can Grande" of Verona and 
 the Visconti of Milan. It is rather pathetic, that 
 picture of the noble Henry, with his fantastic ideas 
 of revivifying the old Roman empire, and bringing 
 [219] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Europe together under the shelter of the Roman eagle; 
 and of the famous Dante, clutching fast to these same 
 ideas and throwing all his energies and hopes into the 
 scale of the approaching monarch; while the cunning 
 tyrants of Milan and Verona, pretending to give their 
 aid to this dream, were quietly securing for themselves 
 complete power in their own dominions. 
 
 The family succeeded in dispossessing all its rivals 
 in Milan, and became masters of the city in 1295, 
 about the time that the oligarchy was fastening its 
 grip upon Venice, and the democracy becoming supreme 
 in Florence. The Visconti, like all the despots of their 
 time, sought, after once making themselves secure, to 
 enlarge their dominion. They aimed at Pisa, and 
 gained the enmity of Florence. They struggled for 
 Bologna, and were excommunicated and interdicted by 
 the popes, but they succeeded in forcing Genoa, who 
 was worn out and exhausted by her long struggle with 
 Venice, to give herself to them, being promised peace 
 and security. Much has been said of the cruelty and 
 ruthless ambition of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, but he 
 was in reality the man the times demanded, for he 
 was probably the only one strong enough to bring 
 order out of chaos. Indeed, he came very near bring- 
 ing the whole peninsula under one government after 
 his conquest of Pisa, Perugia, and Assisi, and it is 
 possible he might have made himself King of Italy 
 had he not suddenly died in 1402. His successor was 
 weak and incapable, and his dominions dwindled away, 
 one after another freeing itself from the Lombard rule. 
 
 There are many branches of the Visconti family 
 at the present time — by far the most prominent the 
 [ 220] 
 
en by Mr. 
 
 TEMPIETTO IN TH 
 
 VILLA OLMO OF 
 
 D I M O D R O N 
 
 E GREAT PARK OF THE 
 THE DUKE VISCONTI 
 E ON LAKE CO MO 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Visconti di Modrone; but they are all in a way related 
 to the famous leaders of this great house, though there 
 are no actual descendants at the present day in direct 
 line. 
 
 To-morrow we dine with the Casatis, and shall 
 probably run in only to Milan for the night, rather 
 than to come back here; besides, I have several 
 errands that I want to do in Milan, which is an excel- 
 lent place for shopping. I saw to-day a charming 
 little villa just next to that of Mrs. Fisher, which can 
 be rented at a very reasonable figure, and I am sorely 
 tempted to engage it for next season. I can imagine 
 no better way of spending the late summer and autumn 
 than on the beautiful shores of this magic lake ; for my 
 friends have made me feel as if I were rather in a 
 second home than in a foreign country. Who knows 
 where Destiny will send me! 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 The Marchese Casati sent me careful and very 
 complete directions as to how to reach Balsamo, the 
 little town in which is situated the great Casati palace 
 and its park. 
 
 Casati is one of modern Italy's famous names, and 
 it was to a member of the House of Casati that 
 Victor Emmanuel II gave as a supreme mark of 
 honor and appreciation of worth, the right to include 
 the "F.E.R.T.," that mysterious motto of the order of 
 the Annunziata, which forms a part of the arms of 
 [221] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Savoy, in the arms of the Casati. In 1848, during 
 the tumultuous times of Italy's approaching freedom, 
 a member of the family, Count Casati, was governor 
 of Milan. He is spoken of as late as 1885 by a promi- 
 nent Italian statesman as follows: *'This man, in spite 
 of his official position, necessitating constant inter- 
 course with government authorities, embodied in his 
 person during months that preceded the revolution 
 a dignified antagonism toward the foreigner. His 
 speeches were never provoking, although vibrating 
 with offended dignity, while an accent of protestation 
 resounded in them, and neither menaces nor flatteries 
 succeeded in silencing him. In its struggle with the 
 Austrian government Milan felt itself faithfully repre- 
 sented by the Count Casati." 
 
 I have written you before much of the artistic 
 grace, and what I may call ** Byzantine" fascination, 
 of the Marchesa. She must feel a keen sympathy 
 with the soft colorings and strange contrasts of the 
 East, for she never was more brilliant in her life than 
 on the evening when she wore at a fancy dress ball 
 in Rome the marvellous costume of the Empress Theo- 
 dora; indeed, her lustrous eyes recalled the famous 
 mosaics at Ravenna. I am great friends with her 
 little girl, who came down to meet us before dinner 
 with her friend and playmate, the little daughter 
 of Madame Soldatenkow, who is making a visit at 
 Balsamo. 
 
 The palace of Balsamo was built the first part of 
 
 the sixteenth century for a noble Ferrarese, who sold 
 
 it in January, 1641, to Don Francesco Mario Casnedi. 
 
 A hundred years after the acquisition made by Don 
 
 [ 222 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Francesco Mario, another Casnedi, the Marquis Ot- 
 tavio sold Balsamo to Count General Plenipotentiary- 
 Carlo Francesco Stampa in May, 1740. Immediately 
 Stampa started the restoration of the villa, and engaged 
 the two painters Venino and Ripamonti to renew the 
 decorations. It is the careful renewal of these seven- 
 teenth century decorations, as well as the traces of 
 the original design, that constitute the great artistic 
 value of the present magnificent residence of our 
 friend, the nephew of the last Marquis of Soncino. 
 
 The artistic hand of the Marchesa Casati is evident 
 on every side. The dining-room is the finest I have 
 yet seen in Italy, enormously high, with the ancient 
 beams beautifully decorated in color; and a few large 
 fine portraits of former lords of this noble house hang 
 on the walls. The dinner table was beautiful to-night, 
 with rare pink orchids. Indeed, I always refer to the 
 Marchesa as "my lady of the orchid," for she seems 
 the living emblem of that exotic plant. We have a 
 common bond of sympathy in our love of lace, and 
 to-night she wore one of her rare Venetian gowns, 
 artistically combined with cloth-of-silver. I think the 
 finest piece of modern lace I remember, in which were 
 woven scenes from the chase in most marvellous Burano, 
 formed the centrepiece of the large dining-table. The 
 service was mainly of silver, and F. B. said the wines 
 were unusually fine. After dinner the Marchesa 
 begged me to sing her some ballads, and as she 
 has always been so charming about my voice, just 
 before we went home I sang for her in the great 
 hall preceding the long suite of drawing-rooms in the 
 palace, F. B. playing my accompaniments. 
 [223 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The Marchese is Master of the Staghounds at 
 Rome, and we are coming another day to lunch, that 
 we may better see the beautiful grounds, and also have 
 a glimpse of the great pack of hounds, which I suppose 
 is one of the best in Europe. A great Russian grey- 
 hound, that is almost always with the Marchesa, has 
 recently been honored by having his portrait painted 
 with his mistress. He followed us as we stepped out 
 from one of the long windows of the salon on to the 
 broad greensward, where he moved like a spectre in 
 and out among the rose bushes, which, in the moon- 
 light, seemed like tiny trees, and gave him the aspect 
 of some giant animal. In the moonlight, too, we 
 could see the lions high up on the pillars of the park 
 gates. Here is another villa, beautiful, elegant, com- 
 fortable, with its great park and endless flowers, and 
 yet quite different from any other where we have 
 been. The Casatis, spend their autumns here at Bal- 
 samo, their winters in Rome, where they have built 
 an elaborate new villa, and where the Marchese is 
 very prominent in hunting circles, as well as much 
 sought in society; but the spring and summer find them 
 travellers. 
 
 The Marchesa is considered by many one of the 
 best dressed women in Europe, and she has a defi- 
 nite, characteristic ** cachet" quite her own. She has 
 always been particularly *'simpatica" to me, and I 
 hope nothing will interfere with our return visit to 
 Balsamo, for I regard every opportunity to see her as 
 a distinct pleasure. 
 
 We ran back easily to Milan, but to-morrow we 
 shall retrace much of the ground over which we have 
 [224] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 come to-day, for we are lunching with Their Excel- 
 lencies, Signor and Donna Bice Tittoni, at their villa 
 at Desio. 
 
 Signor Tittoni is undoubtedly one of the ablest 
 statesmen of Italy to-day. He clearly understands the 
 delicate and difficult position that it is certainly wise, 
 and in the opinion of many necessary, for Italy to 
 maintain toward Austria; he makes but few speeches, 
 but what he says is always to the point. Some of the 
 enthusiastic and over-ardent politicians of to-day in 
 Italy would much prefer to see a less diplomatic Min- 
 ister in the Chair of Foreign Affairs, but those who 
 realize Europe's present situation can only admire the 
 astute and careful policies of Tittoni. He accom- 
 panies the King in nearly all his travels; at Rimini, 
 I remember, we saw the cinematograph of the King's 
 visit to Greece, where Tittoni seemed to be always at 
 the King's right hand. He is a Roman born, and with 
 a toga would be in appearance a veritable senator of 
 ancient Rome. His partial education at the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford in England gives him a wider view of 
 foreign situations than is possible for a man to have 
 who has received all his education in his own country. 
 
 During the brief period that Tittoni was Ambas- 
 sador to England I passed the season in London. 
 When His Excellency came to call, I remember he 
 spoke then of our brilliant Secretary of War, Mr. Taft, 
 and also of his admiration of Governor Hughes. I 
 was to give a dinner in honor of His Excellency and 
 Donna Bice, but I laughingly said to the then Ambas- 
 sador, "I feel very sorry that only Donna Bice will be 
 at the dinner, for I am sure Italy cannot do without 
 [225] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 you, and I will wager anything you like that within 
 six weeks you will be back again at your desk at the 
 Ministry." Tittoni laughed, but replied that he did 
 not at all agree with me; that he was fond of England; 
 that he was very glad to be there, and that he had come 
 with the expectation of remaining. My prophecy was 
 correct, however, for only Donna Bice could come to 
 my entertainment, for her husband, as I had said, had 
 been recalled to Rome at the change of the Cabinet, 
 and had taken his former position as Secretary of 
 Foreign Affairs. Judging from the London press, who 
 paid him the highest compliments as a statesman, the 
 satisfaction of Europe was general. 
 
 Donna Bice I consider one of my dearest friends in 
 Italy. She stands for the ideal type of Italian charac- 
 ter: graceful, clever, highly educated, refined and true. 
 I think perhaps the characteristic that is most pleas- 
 ing in the Italian nature, particularly in the women, 
 is the complete lack of affectation. However beauti- 
 ful the Italian woman may be, however exquisite her 
 clothes, she seems conscious of neither the one nor the 
 other, but her main interest seems to be that of pleas- 
 ing others and making herself gracefully agreeable. 
 Donna Bice is the daughter of Signor Traversi, the 
 rich Milanese banker who bought the villa where we are 
 going. She has a facile pen and has written more 
 than one article of real literary merit as well as 
 several excellent comedies. 
 
 Her work for the Industrie Femminili, in the organ- 
 ization of which she has had a prominent and impor- 
 tant part, has been practical and added greatly to the 
 substantial success of the society; for Donna Bice is 
 [226] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 essentially a woman of brains; she sees things as they 
 are, and applies a quick, active mentality to the accom- 
 plishment of what she knows to be the suitable thing 
 to be done, and does it at the right moment. She is 
 exactly fitted to be the wife of a politician and a states- 
 man, for she knows how to win friends, not only for 
 herself and her own personality, but for the cause 
 for which her husband is striving. She made herself 
 the centre of popularity when Signor Tittoni became 
 Prefect of Naples, and she is one of those gifted women 
 who, on occasion, can say a great deal and yet have 
 said nothing, but who, when the right time comes^ 
 can in a few words clearly outline a course of action. 
 She talks against no one; she is a devoted mother to 
 her children, who are more than usually brilliant. 
 
 The park at Desio is one of the largest in Italy, 
 and the water that forms the many waterways is 
 brought all of twenty miles from the lake here at Como ; 
 but I will write you more about it after our visit. 
 
 T. 
 
 [227] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 LoMBARDY, Milan, Italy, October 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 YOU will be surprised to have this letter 
 from Milan, but after leaving the Tittonis 
 at Desio, we stopped at the famous Milan- 
 ese restaurant Cova for tea, and who 
 should we find but Mrs. Fisher and the American 
 Consul and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Dunning. They 
 persuaded us to stay and go with them to their box 
 at the opera in the Teatro dal Verme to-night, to hear 
 a young American girl, Edith de Lys, make her debut 
 as *'Eva" in the **Meistersinger.'* There seemed to be 
 no real reason why we should not do so, and we enjoyed 
 .the music and Miss de Lys' voice, which was much 
 beyond our expectation. Afterward F. B. arranged 
 for a supper at Cova's, and we have just come in. 
 
 Our day with Donna Bice at Desio has been simply 
 delightful, and I have taken a number of photographs 
 of the beautiful park. I think the best photographer 
 for developing kodaks that I have found anywhere in 
 my travels is here in Milan; most people take kodaks 
 anything but seriously, but Signor Foli gives my films 
 every attention, and I am hoping my pictures of Desio 
 will come out satisfactorily. Donna Bice seemed gen- 
 uinely glad to see me, and had a most lovely luncheon 
 for us in the quaint and oddly decorated dining-roorft 
 of the villa, which at first glance at its Gothic decora- 
 tions and fine glass reminded one of a chapel. 
 
 After luncheon we strolled all about the immense 
 
 [228 1 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 park. The beautiful and famous water art of this 
 villa quite deserves its renown. Paths lined with 
 stately forest trees lead us, now to a lake where the 
 yellow autumn leaves, caught by the sun's rays, seem 
 to star the water with gold; now where a tiny cascade 
 surprises us with its noisy rushing veil of water; now 
 a flowing brook leads past the old Roman tomb to the 
 little marble tempietto, while long, still canals reflect 
 the graceful ivy-grown tree trunks that line their sides; 
 each and all are so combined that one beautiful vista 
 after another is arranged for the enchanted wanderer. 
 The red-billed black swans seemed to take a great 
 liking to me, and constantly caught up with us on our 
 walk. We had our coffee in a marvellous little thatched 
 house on the grounds, which seem to have been laid 
 out with a fairy touch at every turn. On the branches 
 of a tree over one small bridge there hung tiny red 
 berries; Signor Tittoni caught up a fishing-pole that 
 seemed to be ready at his hand, attached a berry, and 
 in the twinkling of an eye had raised a fish from the 
 water beneath. Even I should like fishing under 
 these circumstances. Farther on in our promenade 
 we came to a little ruined tower where a tablet com- 
 memorates the fact that Giovanni Bellini wrote some 
 of his sweetest music on this spot: 
 
 "Qui tra i susurri queruli del vento 
 
 Quando incombe la sera, 
 Suona di donna un misero lamento, 
 
 Qui scrisse la Straniera 
 Bellini, e avea nel core 
 
 De la fanciulla a lui negata il pianto; 
 Qui muto passa 1' ore. 
 
 Chi nel memore cor sente quel canto." 
 [229] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 In the murmuring of the wind 
 
 That blows at eventide, 
 A lady's woe is intertwined. 
 Here wrote Bellini " La Straniera," 
 And thought but of his love denied, 
 Dearer to him than all beside. 
 Here, silent, passed the hours away, 
 But memory keeps the song alway. 
 
 There are few remains of the old rocca built by 
 Bernabo Visconti, which once occupied the site of 
 the classic and grandiose palace of to-day. The aque- 
 duct, however, that this famous man of the Middle 
 Ages had so carefully built in 1360, "in order to pro- 
 cure water for the use of the fields, the mills, the fal- 
 coners, and the pleasures of the Dukes of Milan," still 
 exists, and makes possible the water wonders of the 
 lovely villa. The rich and powerful family of Cusani 
 owned this property for years, and used the villa as 
 their summer home, but in 18 17 Giovanni Traversi 
 bought the place, and transformed the palace and gar- 
 dens into their splendor of to-day. The two marble 
 statues on either side of the steps at the back of the 
 villa looking toward the garden, representing hospitality 
 and friendship, are by Luigi Marchesi and Antonio 
 Galli, and are most appropriate here. 
 
 Signor Traversi added to the various small build- 
 ings in the park built by the Cusani. The museum, 
 that at first sight looks like a church, contains a large 
 number of antique marbles and stones, probably gath- 
 ered here by the different owners from ancient churches 
 and tombs in this vicinity. 
 
 Desio has ever been the scene of much hospitable 
 entertainment, and many of the foreign diplomats 
 [230] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 have enjoyed a visit with the Minister and his wife. 
 Donna Bice is soon leaving for Switzerland with her 
 son, who is to be placed there in school, so I was just 
 in time to have my visit, for in a few days the villa 
 will be closed, and opened again only for the next 
 autumn season. 
 
 On the way home we took the road that goes 
 through Cantu, for I was very anxious to purchase 
 some of the famous lace that bears the name of this 
 town. F. B. was rather skeptical as to whether shop- 
 ping would be possible, as to-day is Sunday, and 
 throughout the whole of Europe the shops are closing 
 much more than formerly for the seventh day. In- 
 deed, there is a law now in Italy and in France that 
 every person working for hire must take one day in 
 seven for rest, and it so annoys the energetic French- 
 man that many times he has refused to do this, but is 
 obliged, in the end, to take all his days of rest at once, 
 when he goes off to his people in the country; in this 
 wise they feel their work is less interrupted. In any 
 case, to-day we were successful, thanks to the energy 
 of Vincenzo, who on our arrival in Cantu, scurried 
 about until he found the proprietor of what seemed 
 to be the most promising shop. Being an industrious 
 Latin, he was not only willing to sell his goods, but 
 anxious to be polite to a stranger. The shop was 
 quickly opened, and all the laces.it contained spread 
 upon the counter, and I dare say you will be pleased 
 to know that some of them I have bought for you. 
 
 Much of this beautiful lace is made by young chil- 
 dren, and it is astonishing to see with what rapidity 
 and correctness they throw their bobbins from one 
 [231] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 side of the cushion to the other, place the pins on the 
 paper pattern beneath their threads, and again with 
 the swiftest motions weave in and out the next figure 
 of the pattern. A half-finished doily caught my 
 attention on one of the cushions, which to-day were 
 idle, and I have ordered a dozen similar ones made, 
 to be sent later to London. I think I must look 
 honest, because the man never questioned the matter 
 of payment, and merely asked for my address, that he 
 might write me when the work was done. 
 
 Signor Tito Ricordi, the director of the famous 
 music publishing house, and a relative by marriage 
 of the Visconti and the Castelbarco, left his card to- 
 night, and has asked us to lunch with him to-morrow 
 at Cova's before returning to Como. You remember 
 I met him first in New York at the time of his direc- 
 tion of the production of Puccini's "La Boheme" at 
 the Metropolitan. 
 
 It is very late. More to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 [232] 
 
E OF THE NUMEROUS WATERWAYS IN THE 
 PARK OF THE VILLA TITTONI-TRAVERSI 
 NEAR MILAN 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 I HAVE so much regretted that you could not be 
 with me, to-day especially, for I am sure you 
 would have enjoyed going over the Canonica lace 
 school, in which you have taken with me such 
 a kind interest. This afternoon Countess Taverna 
 and I motored from Torno to Canonica, where, as 
 you know, she has established in one of her family 
 palaces the flourishing school of filet lace of which 
 you and I have had so many productions. I wrote 
 a few days ago of the scarf that the children have 
 made for me, which took the gold medal at the recent 
 exposition in Milan, but to-day, when I have it in 
 my hands, it is really more beautiful than I expected, 
 and has all the soft suppleness of the fifteenth century 
 laces. Much as I have cared for the school and ap- 
 preciated the work it was doing, when once on the 
 ground to-day I realized more than ever the immense 
 value to Italy of the Industrie Femminili, which 
 could not have a more able president than Countess 
 Taverna; for the Italian woman is not merely a beau- 
 tiful ornament in the drawing-rooms of her great 
 palaces; she is essentially a woman of brains, and in 
 many cases of unusual executive ability. Besides 
 being an immense advantage to the young children of 
 this immediate vicinity to learn a trade that is lucra- 
 tive, cleanly, and profitable, it is a great privilege and 
 benefit for them to come in contact with a woman 
 [233] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 like Countess Taverna, and the refined and charming 
 directress in charge of the school. 
 
 The whole lower floor of this old palace, which is 
 picturesquely situated amongst these beautiful Brianza 
 hills, is given over to the various departments of the 
 school. The small children from seven to twelve are 
 making the less complicated forms of filet; in other 
 rooms older girls are completing orders for the finest 
 lace shops of Paris, London, and Vienna, and now the 
 Countess has decided, in order to keep abreast with 
 the modern French idea of combining various sorts of 
 lace, to establish a department of bobbin work, and 
 has had a competent teacher come from Florence for 
 this purpose. At our approach to one room after 
 another, every girl dropped her work and stood like 
 a soldier at attention, and as we left, each girl dropped 
 a little courtesy as she resumed her threads. There 
 seems to be an almost inborn instinct for good manners 
 in the Italian from the lowest to the highest, and the 
 respect that every servant shows to his master is not 
 deemed any sign of menial service, but an evidence 
 that he too has a desire to show the respect which, 
 in the giving, raises his own estimation of himself. 
 I stopped and talked with some of the girls, and of 
 course expressed my pleasure and satisfaction with 
 my beautiful scarf. I found the various shirtwaists 
 that have been made for us, and have ordered some 
 of these new bobbin laces. It is astonishing how soon 
 these young girls learn what seemed to me a most 
 difficult manipulation of the bobbins, and I could 
 hardly believe what the Countess told me: that the 
 lace of this sort has been learned from the very begin- 
 [234] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 nings within the past thirty days. How the little 
 bobbins could fly as fast as they did, I could not 
 see; I am sure that I should take much more than 
 a month to acquire such dexterity. The Countess is 
 doubly fortunate in the conducting of this school, 
 from the fact that her husband owns and controls 
 large silk factories, and she has succeeded in producing 
 the rarest, softest colors, studied out, I dare say, from 
 the numerous wonderful gobelins that hang in all her 
 homes about Italy; and these silks she combines most 
 successfully with the laces of her school. I was sorely 
 tempted to order a duplicate of a bedspread that she 
 has had recently made for her own room in her palace 
 at Rome, of a soft, dull, greenish-blue silk, covered 
 with a filet of large cinquecento design, which was Tnost 
 effective; but one learns in Italy that every bank 
 account is limited, so I contented myself with the 
 many things that have already been completed for 
 me here. I was glad, however, to add my mite of 
 suggestion to the school's output by leaving various 
 little French odds and ends for the neck, to be copied 
 or used in designing in the finer patterns of the filet. 
 
 One of the Countess' younger sons is very much 
 interested in trying to raise the tobacco plant on some 
 of the land about here, and we went to a side building 
 near the villa to inspect the first drying process of 
 the large leaves. It would seem that the climate and 
 the soil should be propitious for this project, but the 
 success yet remains to be seen. 
 
 This large and ample villa, situated in the small 
 plain beside which flows the river Lambro, that makes 
 its narrowest way among these green Brianza hills 
 [235] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 just at Canonica, is in its present aspect gf seventeenth 
 century architecture, and shows the work of some 
 restoration — probably completed in the first year of 
 the century following. 
 
 Its foundation is said to have been by Count 
 Francesco Taverna, who was a jurist-consul registered 
 at the renowned Milanese College, and several times 
 represented the Prince of Milan and the city at the 
 courts of France and Spain. He was exalted to the 
 highest office of Grand Chancellor (1532) of the Duchy 
 of Milan, which office he held for twenty years, dur- 
 ing the dominion of Duke Francesco Sforza II and of 
 Emperor Charles V, whom he counselled through these 
 turbulent and troublesome times. It is not to be 
 wondered that the famous statesman liked to come to 
 this secluded valley of green trees, flowing streams, 
 and rich fruits to rest from such grave responsibilities. 
 
 The Countess comes to this larger villa, near that 
 in which is the lace school, for the months of Novem- 
 ber and December; the gardens are filled with enor- 
 mous pots of flourishing orange trees, and overlook to 
 one side the large and handsome villa of Countess 
 della Somaglia. Canonica is near enough also to the 
 Villa Belvedere of the Duchess Visconti to make it 
 possible for Marianna's daughters to come each day 
 to the school, where they are taking lessons in the 
 various forms of lace-making. The Duchess herself 
 is an accomplished woman, and the education of her 
 children is carefully looked after. The oldest is now 
 fourteen years (you will recall I wrote you much of 
 them when at Rimini), yet she speaks four languages 
 fluently, is learning to be an excellent pianist, besides 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 all the other accomplishments of dancing, tennis, and 
 so on — a rather more severe education than is de- 
 manded, or even thought of, for many of our young 
 girls, who seem to feel that if they do not have to do 
 anything there is no particular reason why they should 
 do anything. The woman of fine birth and breeding 
 in Europe, as a general thing, feels a responsibility to 
 that birth and breeding, and if she be the daughter of 
 a noble house, for that very reason she must be accom- 
 plished and clever, as her forebears have always been; 
 but whatever name you give to education and culture, 
 a lady is a lady the world around, and it is not very 
 difficult either in Europe or America to distinguish 
 them. Life as it is lived by the Italian is really much 
 simplified and infinitely more satisfactory than in many 
 countries, for the reason that most of the domestic 
 difficulties that annoy, certainly the woman of America, 
 and I dare say many others, are to a great extent 
 eliminated here. The Italian servants are competent, 
 capable, and intelligent; and I could not but notice 
 to-day at Canonica what the accumulation of genera- 
 tions of luxurious equipment of life means in its fullest 
 extent. 
 
 Here at Canonica in the rich sideboards and cup- 
 boards of the dining-room were rare and complete 
 sets of china, sufficient for the entertaining of a large 
 number of guests, yet it is never moved from Canonica, 
 and as many more complete sets of even greater rich- 
 ness are kept in equally good order at the villa at 
 Torno and in the Taverna palace at Rome. Few 
 fortunes at the present day would permit the purchase 
 at one time of such table furnishing, even were it 
 [237] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 possible to obtain it; but the whole outfit of each villa 
 is the same in all the departments of the housekeeper's 
 realm, so perhaps it is not surprising that the Italians 
 are able to live and entertain in four or five different 
 houses during the year, for only their clothes, their 
 silver, and their jewels are required to be moved. 
 Many of my friends walk out of their door into their 
 motor, and arrive at their spring, summer, or autumn 
 palace, as the case may be, to find a completely 
 ordered household awaiting them; trunks and boxes 
 and other annoying things have gone on before, and 
 the maid, who is generally with her mistress from the 
 time she is a young girl till she is an old lady, knows 
 too well the ways and habits of the family to make 
 many mistakes in the annual readjustments. I think 
 the Italians think far more of climate too than we, 
 and are very willing, if necessary, to put themselves 
 to great inconvenience to find a temperature which, 
 by experience and careful medical consultation, they 
 find agrees with their health. The Duchess Melzi, 
 with whom we are to take tea to-morrow, and who is 
 as devoted to the great Dr. Jousset as you and I, 
 makes each year the long journey to Harrogate in 
 Yorkshire, England, to take the cure of the waters 
 there; with the result that she is a brisk, active woman 
 nearing her seventieth year, yet is able alone to con- 
 duct her business interests, and look after her vast 
 estates in different parts of Italy. 
 
 Should you want any of the lace of the school this 
 
 year, you must cable me at once, as we shall be in 
 
 this glorious country but a meagre ten days more, for 
 
 we must not omit beautiful Tuscany, having promised 
 
 [238] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 our numerous friends still more visits in various parts 
 of that province. 
 
 This is a long letter, so good-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 My mind is rather in a whirl to-night, but I do 
 want to write to you of the various and lovely villas 
 we have seen here to-day. I feel as if I had been 
 living in a cinematograph, for the Marchesa d' Adda, 
 who gave us a beautiful luncheon, had planned to visit 
 this afternoon a veritable succession of villas. She 
 arranged for me to come to her the other day, when 
 we met at the Taverna's at tea, and invited numbers 
 of my friends that I had known in Rome. Dear, de- 
 lightful old Count Greppi was the first to greet me, 
 after our charming host and hostess, on our arrival 
 at this lovely Villa d' Adda, and I must pause to tell 
 you something about this distinguished diplomat of 
 Italy, whose step is as light, and whose figure as erect 
 and slender as a man of thirty; yet Count Greppi, 
 noble, senator, diplomat, and statesman, counts his 
 ninety-two years and his innumerable friends. 
 
 Count Giuseppe Greppi was born in 1819, and 
 served in the Austrian diplomatic service from 1842 
 to 1848. Afterwards he was named as Secretary of 
 Legation in the Sardinian diplomacy, and went succes- 
 sively to London, Berlin, Athens, and Constantinople. 
 In 1867 he was sent as Minister Plenipotentiary to 
 Stuttgart, Munich, later to Madrid, and in 1883 he 
 [239] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 was made Ambassador of the Kingdom of Italy to St. 
 Petersburg, where he remained five years. In 1901 
 his long service and splendid career were recognized 
 by the King of Italy, who appointed him a Senator 
 and conferred upon him the grand crosses of the 
 Order of San Maurizio and Lazzaro, and of the Crown 
 of Italy. 
 
 Count Greppi must have had his troubles, his 
 chagrins, his disappointments, like all other human 
 beings, but his buoyant nature, his unconquerable 
 optimism, his charming personality bear no trace of 
 these sorrows, unless, perhaps, it be in an unusual 
 sweetness of nature. I think no one has ever heard 
 Count Greppi say a word against anybody, yet his 
 character is by no means banal, for he has a quick 
 wit and a pretty repartee. I remember at a dinner I 
 gave in Rome I was very undecided as to the seat- 
 ing of my distinguished guests, and I said to Count 
 Greppi, to whom I had given the second place, having 
 placed a former Minister of Foreign Affairs at my 
 right, that I hoped I had made a correct diagram for 
 my table, but felt that I was very liable to error in a 
 foreign land. "You have given me quite the place 
 you should have," said Count Greppi, "but any place 
 at your table, dear Madame, is a place of honor." 
 If we all could live to be ninety-two, and be as 
 much sought for, admired, and really beloved, what a 
 wonderful world it would be! I remember one night 
 in Rome, when His Royal Highness the Count of 
 Turin was dining at the Hotel Excelsior, and taking 
 his coffee in the large, spacious palm garden of that 
 hotel, people turned in surprise to see the Royal Prince 
 [240] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 leave his table, rush out into the hall, and throw both 
 arms around Count Greppi in an affectionate embrace. 
 What Royalty feels, I think everyone who knows Count 
 Greppi feels: a sincere affection, a "simpatia" for this 
 gallant old gentleman, who never misses the first night 
 at the opera, who attends all the balls, though, of 
 course, his dancing days are over, who dines out gen- 
 erally six nights out of the seven in Rome, and comes 
 back each season to his special apartment built for 
 him in the Excelsior Hotel, with as fresh enthusiasm 
 as any debutante. 
 
 The Countess Cammarata, who is visiting the 
 Marchesa for a few days, Donna Mina Sala, Count 
 and Countess Lurani, and Count Arnaboldi with his 
 daughter the Princess di Palazzolo, who had come over 
 from their Castello di Carimate near by, made a very 
 jolly luncheon party. The table decorations at all 
 these luncheons, dinners, and teas seemed to vary 
 in their artistic combination as much as the villas 
 themselves, and to-day the table was curiously and 
 effectively arranged with white cyclamen held in place 
 by tiny green wired tubes, which were bent and fash- 
 ioned in odd but effective designs all about the table. 
 During the meal I asked for a real definition of this 
 beautiful country that I continually hear called the 
 "Brianza." When I tried to write you the other 
 day just what the "Brianza" was, I found on reflec- 
 tion that I was completely ignorant in the matter. 
 The Marchese d' Adda tells me that, like all fairylands, 
 it has no borderland in actual fact, but it is, generally 
 speaking, the undulating tract of land between the 
 Lambo and Adda rivers, stretching north and called 
 [241] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 **Alta Brianza," forming the triangular peninsula 
 that divides Lake Como from Lake Lecco. Like the 
 entire region as far as Lago Maggiore, it is occupied 
 by the extreme lower mountains of the Alpine chain, 
 and in the centre are several small lakes: Anone, 
 Posiano, Segrino, and one or two others. The soil is 
 very fertile, and the vineyards, orchards, and mulberry 
 trees are flourishing. 
 
 Arcore is a village situated in these fertile and 
 smiling Brianza hills, and its name is said to have 
 been derived from the ancient worship here of Her- 
 cules, for it will be remembered that, as Christianity 
 advanced, it was only in the villages that the former 
 worship of the gods of the Romans and Greeks was 
 maintained; and as the Latin word for "village" is 
 "pagus," the worshippers of the ancient religion became 
 known as pagans. 
 
 In the fourteenth century there was a castle here, 
 of which the site at least retains the name. For 
 many years this palace of vast proportions has been the 
 hospitable autumnal residence of the great family of 
 Adda, and from one improvement to another the Villa 
 of Montagnola, from the time of the Count Abbe 
 Fernando of Adda in 1808 up to the present time, 
 has been considered one of the most sumptuous country 
 residences of Lombardy. It retains its characteristic 
 type of the rich Lombardy villas of 1600. Although 
 the greater number of these villas were constructed in 
 the plain, adorned with formal parks after the Italian 
 fashion, with many plants, paths, and symmetrical 
 decoration, the Villa Arcore, while maintaining in 
 general its original construction, has the advantage 
 [242] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of being situated on a rather high elevation, surrounded 
 by an enormous and beautiful park, left rather in 
 wooded English freedom. There is, however, on the 
 terrace overlooking the broad green expanse of lawn 
 a very charming formal garden, which was executed 
 under the direction of Balzaretti, about 1841-42. The 
 chapel was erected by Giovanni d' Adda in memory 
 of his young wife, whose beautiful tomb is the work 
 of the well-known sculptors Vicenzo and Lorenzo Vela. 
 The building recalls the celebrated baptistery of the 
 Church of San Satiro in Milan. The arrangement of 
 the very large salon in the centre of the house is a 
 particularly fortunate one, and permits of most beauti- 
 ful views from all sides of the surrounding country. 
 
 Luncheon over, the Marchesa most thoughtfully 
 provided me with photographs of another of the family 
 villas, Pandino; for Adda is one of the great names 
 of Lombardy, and the great river of Northern Italy 
 bears the name of this house, which has given to the 
 country distinguished cities and statesmen. 
 
 This castle of Pandino is one of the best examples 
 of the castle stronghold, yet country residence, of the 
 great nobles of the fourteenth century. Pandino has 
 been the country residence of many historic women, 
 as well as the scene of many a bloody battle. Regina 
 della Scala, the wife of Bernabo Visconti, has left 
 many of her insignia and decorations upon the walls 
 of this splendid old palace. Here also, during the own- 
 ership of Pandino by the powerful and much dreaded 
 Lodovico Sforza, II Moro, probably came the gay and 
 happy Beatrice of Este, who was devoted to open-air 
 pleasures of every sort. It would be difficult, I think, 
 [243] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 for even the most athletic of our modern girls to keep 
 pace with the day as recounted by the people who 
 accompanied the energetic Duchess, Regent of Milan, 
 on her almost daily excursions into the country. She 
 would start early in the morning, and as they drove 
 out to the castle would sing part songs arranged for 
 three or five voices with her ladies. Once at the 
 castle, a fishing party was organized, and after the 
 cooking and generous eating of the fish, various games 
 were played for digestion's sake, ending with a romp 
 through the palace. Presently a hunting excursion 
 was planned, and the long run on swift horses brought 
 down a stag or two late in the afternoon; while it was 
 only far into the evening when the merry and inde- 
 fatigable party returned to Milan. 
 
 It was the Sforzas who added to the ancient palace 
 the arched doors, the offensive battlements, and those 
 holes in the fortifications through which weapons could 
 be thrown. Pandino was the site of the famous and 
 bloody battle of Agnadello in 1590, but has belonged 
 for many years to the family of Adda, who were made 
 Marquises of Pandino in 1625. The restorations that 
 have been made have only proved that the castle was 
 very hastily and superficially built by Bernabo Vis- 
 conti, and to-day it is interesting more as an historical 
 ruin than as a place of residence. It is probably to a 
 castle like Pandino, where peasants live in the great 
 vacant halls and rooms of the one-time majestic castle, 
 where farm implements and agricultural products form 
 the furnishings of many a room with finely frescoed 
 ceiling, that my compatriots go, and by going, reach 
 the conclusion that all the castles in Italy are ruins; 
 [244] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 that their owners are either dead or poor, and that it 
 is all a very great pity. To such I should say that, 
 as Pandino is interesting architecturally and histori- 
 cally, its wealthy owners do not tear it down; but that 
 their life, of which the traveller knows little or nothing, 
 is far more luxurious to-day in their beautiful villa 
 at Arcore than was that of the Lords of Visconti or San- 
 severino and other inhabitants of former days of the 
 castle of Pandino. Many of the frescoes retain their 
 beauty, color, and design, and as Pandino is a castle 
 belonging to the second part of the fourteenth century, 
 it has a special interest. Unlike most of the strong- 
 holds of that time, it never had to suffer the disgrace 
 of a treacherous surrender to an incoming conqueror. 
 
 The Marchesa d' Adda is still a handsome woman, 
 and looks much younger than she is; but it is useless 
 for the members of a noble house to expect to conceal 
 their age while the relentless Almanac de Gotha is 
 published annually. The Marchesa showed me many 
 of the beautiful productions of a lace school she has 
 founded, and has, like Countess Taverna, made a 
 financial success, and a great benefit to the people in 
 her immediate neighborhood. She has also founded a 
 hospital in this section of the country, and has proved 
 herself a real benefactor, not only to the suffering and 
 the needy, but to the young rising generation, in the 
 great aid she has given them in helping them to help 
 themselves. I was sorry that her magnificent "Van 
 Dykes," which are among the finest of that master to 
 be seen in private collections, were so placed that it 
 was difiicult for my camera to photograph them. 
 
 The party was so large, and we were all so scattered 
 [ 245 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 about the rooms of the spacious and airy villa, that I 
 did not notice that numerous other friends had arrived, 
 until, one by one, they came up to greet me; then 
 without the smallest fuss or confusion, we all got 
 into the four or five big limousines which were along- 
 side our own at one side of the park, and presently we 
 nearly buried poor Countess della Somaglia in the 
 clouds of dust from our automobilistic procession, as 
 we flew by her to the villa of the Prince and Princess 
 Pio di Savoia, who are cousins of the d' Addas and 
 are passing the summer and autumn elsewhere. The 
 thoughtful Marchesa, however, knew that I should be 
 greatly interested, not only in the beauty of the villa 
 itself and its magnificent situation, overlooking one of 
 the finest valleys of Lombardy, but also in the price- 
 less works of art that belonged to her relatives. When 
 we arrived, the servants were all ready to receive us; 
 every door was open, and the whole party took an 
 excursion through the various salons and upper rooms 
 of what really should be called a palace, though these 
 modest Italians merely speak of it as the Villa of Mom- 
 bello. This grandiose villeggiatura was constructed by 
 the Orsini family of Rome, who inhabited it up to the 
 first half of the last century, when a widowed Orsini 
 left it to a nephew, Don Giovanni Falco, from whom 
 the present Prince inherited it. The villa was re- 
 arranged according to the dictates of modern comfort 
 by the proprietor about 1894. The air, the view, the 
 convenience of the near-by railroad on the line of 
 Milano-Lecco, make it a charming summer home, and 
 even more delightful in the autumn, when it has often 
 numerous visitors. Airy balconies, long glass portals 
 [246] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 leading on to beautiful flowery gardens, vast salons, 
 artistically arranged steps by which one can reach the 
 broad terraces, make the villa particularly adapted to 
 constant entertaining. At the wedding of the last 
 sister of Prince Pio, the entire villeggiatura colony of 
 the Brianza, so Marchesa d' Adda tells me, indeed of 
 nearly all Lombardy, gathered here, where they were 
 most lavishly entertained, rendering the proverbial 
 courtesy and hospitality of the House of Pio more 
 famous than ever. 
 
 The great library was the special charm of the villa. 
 This room Prince Pio has made the envy of all, in its 
 excellent style, its spaciousness, and its artistic deco- 
 ration. The library is encircled by a wrought-iron 
 balcony, to which slight stairs lead, so that the 
 numberless books that reach, on well-distanced shelves 
 to the ceiling, may be easily obtained. Art is here 
 worthily represented by many pictures, among which 
 are "Europe," by Luca Giordano (a rare treasure 
 indeed), various portraits of the ancestors of the family 
 of Falco made by Velasquez and by Murillo, four 
 busts in bronze of the Marchesi di Castel Roderigo, 
 and a beautiful portrait by Appiani of Prince Pio, as 
 well as a marble bust of the Cardinal Emanuel Pio — 
 all of which are worthy of the finest museums. The 
 family tombs are here, as so often in Italy, on this 
 country estate. The present Princess is of Spanish 
 birth and numerous pictures of the Spanish royal 
 family were mingled with those of Italy's rulers on 
 the tables throughout the reception salons. My friends 
 were all so nice in helping me to take my photographs 
 to-day. When I had finished, the automobiles took 
 [247] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 us all quickly to the Villa Subaglio of Don Giacomo 
 Sala, who, to his great regret, was not able to be at 
 home to receive us, but had asked his sister to act as 
 hostess for him. 
 
 The gardens of this villa are quite different from 
 others, and groups of charming statuary are combined 
 with the flowers in a way to make the formal garden 
 quite the most beautiful of any we have seen. The 
 villa is not as large as that of the Marchese d'Adda, 
 but the rooms are very tastefully furnished. This 
 hill of Subaglio is the name of the place belonging to 
 a family which is remembered as one of the oldest 
 land-owners of this part of the country, and which 
 became extinct in 1660. The hill is entirely isolated, 
 and forms a tableland that descends on all sides in 
 gentle decline to the surrounding fields and woods of 
 oak, chestnut, and pine. The seventeenth century 
 villa is situated in the centre of this tableland. 
 Toward the end of the last century it was restored 
 and redecorated in fine taste, in a way that did not 
 disturb its ancient style but that met the modern 
 demands for comfort. In front of the house there 
 opened a sort of vast parterre entirely decorated with 
 beds of flowers, bordered with box in the old Italian 
 style, and peopled, as it were, with little statuettes of 
 that time. The position and formation of this hill is 
 such as to make all about Subaglio a panorama, which 
 for its extent, its variety, and harmonious surroundings 
 it is difficult to equal. At noon, they told us, one may 
 see across the immense plain Brescia as far as Piedmont, 
 crowned by the Apennines and the Alps from Monte 
 Viso to the Gran Paradis. In another direction one 
 [248] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 can see the verdant valley of Rovagnate with the 
 lesser Alps of Erba and Palanzone. Extending toward 
 the east we have nearer the wooded mountain of 
 Cantu, and in the distance the mountains and the 
 Lake of Iseo, and many others whose names I do not 
 remember. On these horizons, which extend over 
 such an immense area, one has the most magnificent 
 sunset and sky effects, at eventide as well as in the 
 morning. 
 
 The tea was excellent and very welcome, for while 
 all this is immensely enjoyable, by five o'clock one is 
 a little tired, and a cup of tea sends one along refreshed 
 and invigorated for the rest of the evening. 
 
 I had supposed that the day's pleasures were at 
 an end when tea was over, and many of the people 
 were already leaving us for their several villas. Count 
 Valmarana from Venice, who has been most kind all 
 day^in helping me with my pictures, has added one 
 more inducement for our return to Venice next year by 
 his many promises of good times that he will arrange 
 for us. 
 
 Count and Countess Lurani insisted upon our say- 
 ing good-bye to our charming host and hostess of the 
 day at the door of her (Countess Lurani's) villa, and 
 we delayed our home-coming until a very late hour, 
 refusing the dinner invitation, which was gracefully 
 offered, in order to enjoy the attractions not only of 
 the Lurani villa, but Countess Lurani herself and her 
 remarkable little boy. The Countess is a very young- 
 looking woman, and I could hardly believe that the 
 photograph she showed me of a young and beautiful 
 woman and little child, was that of her daughter and 
 [249] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 grandchild. I should imagine, from what she told me, 
 that she and her daughter have been chums, and have 
 enjoyed each other in much the same way as you 
 and I, and perhaps a merciful Providence sent this 
 tiny baby so late in the Countess' life to console her 
 for the loss of her daughter, who lives at some distance 
 from her since her marriage. The little fellow is but 
 three years old, but inherits his mother's really unusual 
 musical talent. We had enjoyed and admired the 
 Countess' big, full dramatic voice when her husband 
 played some of the Italian opera airs for her at 
 the Villa d'Adda this afternoon, but I think the tiny 
 baby had quite as much applause for his really correct 
 intonations of one of the simple Italian melodies. The 
 Countess has known and sung with Boito, Puccini, 
 and many other of the distinguished Italian composers, 
 who have written music and dedications by way of 
 appreciation of her musical ability. 
 
 It has been a great disappointment to me that 
 we could not make our projected visit to Marchesa 
 Prinetti at her castle of Merate. We enjoyed the 
 brilliant receptions at her palace in the Piazza Colon- 
 na in Rome, and she was most cordial in asking us to 
 spend a fortnight with her in this Brianza country. 
 Fate, however, has decided otherwise, for last year 
 her distinguished husband, a former Minister of For- 
 eign Affairs, and a man who had devoted his life to 
 his country, died, and her deep mourning, of course, 
 precludes any thought of our intended visit. 
 
 Again to-night we returned home with our auto- 
 mobile completely decorated with the wonderful 
 flowers of these famous villas. I doubt if it would be 
 [250] 
 
S OF THE VILLA SUBAGLIO OF 
 DON GIACOMO SALA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 possible for an Italian to live without his habitual 
 surrounding of luxurious flowers; exist he might, but 
 happy he surely would not be. 
 
 To-morrow we are invited to the famous villa of 
 the Duchess Melzi, and I will write more anon. 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 I have been told before by the Marchesa Zaccaria, 
 of whom I have talked to you so much, and whom I 
 knew so well in Rome, that your photographs greatly 
 resemble her mother, the Duchess Melzi; but I had 
 no idea that the resemblance was so striking, and I 
 almost embraced the white-haired Duchess when she 
 came out to receive us at her beautiful villa (just next 
 to that of the Marchesa Trotti at Bellagio), so much 
 did her smile resemble yours; though her eyes are 
 very handsome they have not your wonderful yellow 
 tones. 
 
 The Count Melzi was created Duke of Lodi by 
 Napoleon I in 1799, and the only portrait for which 
 the great Napoleon ever actually posed, painted by 
 Appiani, hangs in the drawing-room of the Villa 
 Melzi, where we have been to-day, and is the most 
 precious of a large and valuable collection of fur- 
 niture, pictures, bric-a-brac, and souvenirs of the 
 period of the First Empire and the Cisalpine Repub- 
 lic in Italy. The eagle eye, the imperious and beau- 
 tiful hand, the forehead of genius — all are strikingly 
 brought out in this portrait. There is an exqui- 
 [251] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 site bust by Michael Angelo, which though Httle 
 known, is yet worthy of the sculptor of "Moses" and 
 ** David;" indeed the extensive art collection of the 
 Duchess makes her villa a veritable art museum. 
 
 At the end of the garden, a little toward the village 
 of San Giovanni, is built the beautiful chapel where 
 repose the three Dukes of Lodi. Full of solemn inspi- 
 ration is the funeral monument that Vincenzo Vela 
 sculptured for Lodovico Melzi; but all art pales before 
 Nature's, and whoever walks these paths of the Villa 
 Melzi seems not to live in reality, but in a dream. 
 In the middle of the main aisle of the park is a statue 
 representing Dante and Beatrice by Comolli, where 
 Beatrice ''si lieta come bella" comforts the greatest 
 of Italian poets. 
 
 The villa stands in the centre of the Bellagio 
 peninsula, on the borders of the lake, between two 
 rows of shady plane trees, shut in as in a shell of 
 green hills, surrounded by rare exotic plants and 
 flowery gardens. It was constructed according to 
 principles of the architecture of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury by Albertolli, as a summer residence of Count 
 Melzi, the Vice-President of the Italian Republic. 
 In the mirror of the lake is reflected the simple, clas- 
 sical aspect of its marble balustrades, the palms and 
 flowers that, like an oasis of the East, surround it. 
 All the splendor of the southern vegetation and the 
 most delicate flora that blossom under warmer skies 
 surround this palace as in a magic of perfume and 
 color. A beautiful haven of rest it must have been 
 indeed to Francesco Melzi, the friend of Napoleon. 
 Still intact are both the exterior and interior of the 
 [252] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 palace, although the successors of the Vice-President, 
 especially the Duchess Josephine Melzi-Barbo, have 
 with exquisite taste furnished the vast halls, added 
 "modern comfort," and somewhat softened the rich 
 classical style of the place. A large gallery of statues 
 occupies the greater part of the first floor opening out 
 to the other rooms. Overlooking the lake is a large 
 salon from which one passes to the terrace, and down 
 stairways on either side to the gardens, out of which 
 the other rooms open. 
 
 The Duchess is a woman of great dignity, and a 
 graceful and charming hostess. I am very sorry that 
 I am not to see her daughter, the Marchesa Zaccaria, 
 either here or at her villa at Bordolano suU' Olio, where 
 we had expected to visit, for the poor lady is suffering 
 from severe neuralgia, and has gone to Switzerland for 
 a cure, so her daughter. Donna Mathylde Zaccaria, 
 who is paying a visit to grandmamma, told me to-day. 
 However, I did meet another daughter of the Duchess, 
 the handsome Princess Molfetta, who looks about 
 twenty-five, and yet laughingly tells me that she her- 
 self is a mother of eight children and already a grand- 
 mother. It seems almost impossible to imagine the 
 handsome, active Duchess of Melzi not only a grand- 
 mother but a great-grandmother. 
 
 Our conversation fell naturally and quickly to the 
 object of our mutual admiration. Dr. Jousset at Paris, 
 and I think, like all who know this very celebrated 
 man, the Duchess loves and admires him as much as 
 we. 
 
 To-day the tea was rather more formal, and a 
 beautifully laid table was prepared at one side of the 
 [253] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 drawing-room, the Duchess seating all her guests 
 carefully as at a dinner. All sorts of dainties and cakes 
 were served, but the most delicious purple figs I have 
 ever eaten came, she told me, from her properties near 
 Venice. 
 
 After tea her granddaughter and grandson took 
 me all about the gardens, which are elaborately- 
 arranged with marble-lined sheets of water and exten- 
 sive carpet gardening, while large luxuriant flowering 
 shrubs give the place a very gorgeous appearance. 
 
 The Duchess cares little for society, though her 
 position and rank make it necessary for her to go more 
 or less into the world, and her entertainments in Milan 
 are lavish and elaborate, but here on the lake she lives 
 a very quiet life, being seen by but a few intimates, 
 except when her handsome launch steams up and down 
 the lake, and she smiles to passing friends. She usu- 
 ally prefers her horses and a drive, however. She was 
 very kind in asking me to come and see her in Milan 
 later in the season, but I fear when she has returned 
 to her town palace we shall be in Rome. 
 
 We have received a telegram from Signor Crespi, 
 the father of that charming Marchesa Fracassi di Torre 
 di Rossano, inviting us to spend the day at his villa 
 on the Lake of Orta. I shall surely accept this kind 
 invitation, for I am much interested to meet one of 
 the captains of industry in Italy. Signor Crespi has 
 had a phenomenal success in his establishing and build- 
 ing up of cotton manufactures. He has built a model 
 village for his workmen, and the town where his fac- 
 tories are situated, and where he has done so much 
 for the workingman, is most appropriately called 
 [254] 
 
MARCHESA ZACCARIA 
 Born M e Izi d' E r il 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 **Crespi sulF Adda." To-day he is a man of great 
 wealth, and I have heard much of his famous collec- 
 tion of fifteenth century paintings in his palace in 
 Milan. Since most collectors love to have their work 
 appreciated, I am hoping that after our meeting we 
 may have the opportunity of seeing his gallery, when 
 we stop for a few days in Milan, before going South. 
 I shall write you more about him and the villa after 
 our trip. 
 
 Mrs. Fisher is ever most kind with her hospitable 
 launch "Carlotta." 
 
 T. 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 After all my experiences in Italy, I should suppose 
 I might be immune from surprises, but I am not, 
 nor do I think it is possible for anyone to believe that 
 in one country there can be so many beautiful places. 
 
 I have known, of course, that there is a Lake of 
 Orta, a tiny blue spot on the map, well to the left of 
 Como, Maggiore, and Lugano, but I had no concep- 
 tion of the exquisite beauty of the lake, which turns 
 out not to be so very little after all; it is considered 
 small, probably from its proximity to the Lake of 
 Maggiore, on the shores of which we stopped to-day, 
 at Sesto, for luncheon. Perhaps it is because the 
 lake lies a little to one side of the beaten path of travel, 
 that one hears it less spoken of than the other Italian 
 lakes, but certainly it is beautiful, set like a deep 
 sapphire, in the midst of the great mountains that 
 [255] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 encircle it. It is generally thought by scientists, I 
 believe, to have once been a part of Lago Maggiore. 
 
 The Villa Pia is a combination of the varied and 
 many styles of Moorish architecture. Signor Crespi 
 told us that he had felt that the classic Greek-Roman 
 in this region, which is rather solitary and austere, 
 would have greatly accentuated the seclusion and 
 possible meditative melancholy of the place. It is cer- 
 tainly an extremely original idea to place this very 
 Moorish architecture among the austere memories of 
 the Greek brothers, who came here with the sober 
 hopes of bringing Christianity to this beautiful spot 
 of Nature. It is rather startling to come upon that 
 style of architecture that one expects to find only 
 under the warm suns of Africa, or transplanted by 
 long years of historical warfare into Southern Spain 
 and Sicily; but we are told that the architect's idea in 
 choosing the Moresque style was to symbolize, not 
 the scimiter of the Mohammedan, but rather the great 
 industrial ability and shrewdness of the Moors, who 
 could be said to have much in common with the mod- 
 ern chatelain, who belongs precisely to that world of 
 work and thought that they made so famous. The 
 Oriental furnishing is -carried out in the inside. 
 
 Our welcome was, as usual, most cordial, and after 
 resting and tea, which we took rather early, as we 
 were a bit tired from our long run in the car, Signora 
 Crespi and her daughter-in-law suggested that we 
 either make the excursion by boat to the famous 
 little island of San Giulio, or ascend the Monte di 
 Orta, a frequented pilgrim resort situated on a 
 beautiful wooded hill called the *' Monte Sacro," to 
 [256] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 which a shaded paved path ascends; from where, they 
 told us a dehghtful view was to be had. 
 
 On the slopes approaching the church there are 
 twenty chapels or oratories, which are very similar 
 to those of Varese, and contain scenes from the 
 sacred history in painted life-size figures of terra 
 cotta. They were erected in the sixteenth century, 
 and in the last is represented the canonization of 
 the saint. We looked at the pictures that Signora 
 Crespi kindly showed us, but concluded that we would 
 much prefer to visit the one beautiful island of this 
 lake. While we were rowing over to the island, only 
 a short distance from shore near Signor Crespi's villa, 
 a very large boat crowded with young ecclesiastical 
 students passed us. It was very odd to see so many 
 small boys dressed in the black garb of the priest, 
 but their purple sashes lent a picturesque note of 
 color to the scene; they landed on the island, and 
 made a formal procession to the basilica, which we 
 visited afterward. This ancient church on the island 
 was founded, according to legend, by San Giulio and 
 his brother San Giuliano, who came from Greece in 
 379 A.D., where, the legend has it, they had received a 
 careful education, and where they had become con- 
 vinced of their calling to a life devoted entirely to the 
 betterment of their fellow beings through the minister- 
 ing and teaching of Christianity. On the ascension 
 of the Emperor Theodosius to the imperial throne, the 
 Greek brothers received help and protection in their 
 missionary work. Tradition tells of their travels along 
 the Rhine into Italy, to Rome through the Romagna, 
 and in the Abruzzi Mountains. Christianity was 
 [257] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 already largely spread through Lombardy, and they 
 finally found their way to Novara and the Lake of 
 Orta. Their efforts to evangelize the inhabitants 
 about the lake shores were successful. The pagan 
 temple dedicated to Minerva was destroyed, and the 
 Roman baths of Ferrentino were made to serve as 
 material for a beautiful Christian temple. During the 
 building, on a certain occasion, so the legend says, 
 there were heard the piercing cries of a carpenter who 
 had been careless with one of his implements and lost 
 his thumb. San Giulio, at sight of the blood, picked 
 up the thumb, raising his eyes to heaven uttered a 
 prayer, put the thumb in its place, blessed the man, 
 who was immediately cured, and before the stupefied 
 eyes of his fellows resumed his labors, 
 
 San Giulio, who had determined to go to the island, 
 found great difficulty in getting any boatman to con- 
 sent to make the short passage from the shore to this 
 apparently beautiful spot in the midst of the lake, 
 on account of the widespread knowledge of the poison- 
 ous and enormous serpents and thorny shrubbery 
 which were supposed to make the island impossible for 
 human beings. In the memory of man no one had 
 ever put his foot upon the island. 
 
 On hearing this, the saint kneeled down on the 
 shores of the lake, and turning his looks to heaven 
 uttered a prayer for help, begging assistance from the 
 Lord, and calling upon Saint Peter to mediate for him 
 for the answer to his prayer. Thereupon he threw out 
 his coat upon the water and jumped upon it, with 
 unerring faith in the Divine. San Giulio, using his 
 pilgrim's stick as an oar, went quickly and rapidly 
 [258] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 over the water, so the story goes, and arrived safely 
 on the shores of the island. The reptiles and poison- 
 ous animals that lived upon the island, terrified at 
 the appearance of the good man, hissing terribly and 
 cutting the waters of the lake with their monstrous 
 backs, left the shores of the island, and repaired to 
 the woods and gorges of the surrounding mountains; 
 while the holy man opened for himself a way through 
 the thick shrubbery of the forest until he came to the 
 rocky summit of the island, where with great joy he 
 planted the cross, as a sign of the reclaiming of the 
 island. Here rose the hundredth church of San Giulio, 
 dedicated to the memory of the Holy Apostles. 
 
 Here the holy man lived, continuing his conver- 
 sions, and in a brief space of time the little island was 
 transformed. 
 
 In 1748 the skeleton of San Giulio, reclothed in 
 sacerdotal garments, was solemnly put in the crypt 
 beneath the high altar, enclosed in a rich casket of 
 crystal surrounded by ornaments of worked silver, 
 and it was this casket of crystal that we saw to-day. 
 The pulpit in this church is very quaint and beautiful, 
 and there is a very old statue representing San Giulio 
 with his foot upon a viper. All that is of the old 
 Roman period is beautiful architecturally, but unfor- 
 tunately, at the time of the building of the silver 
 casket, a restoration took place, and the lines of the old 
 Roman basilica were greatly injured and impaired. 
 
 It was quite late when we returned in the boat 
 
 to the Villa Crespi,_and our good-byes were necessarily 
 
 hasty, as we had a long run back to Como. Just as 
 
 we were getting into the automobile we discovered that 
 
 [259] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 it had been completely decorated inside with the most 
 superb chrysanthemums (no two of which were alike) 
 that I have ever seen, even in a chrysanthemum show. 
 Signor Crespi assured me that he had not robbed his 
 greenhouses, and considering the magnificence of the 
 whole place, I presume we had only a sample of his 
 beautiful flowers; but surely these were the most 
 exquisite blossoms of their kind that it has ever been 
 my good fortune to have ! 
 
 Signora Crespi most kindly arranged for me to 
 come, when in Milan next week, to their house, where 
 I can see the famous collection of paintings. Signor 
 Crespi has told me much to-day of his building of the 
 model villages, his care for his workmen, his interest 
 in industrial Italy, and has offered to send me photo- 
 graphs of all these interesting places due to his brains 
 and ability, about which he seems to be so modest. 
 At Crespi on the Adda he has built himself a castle 
 quite the opposite of his Moorish home on the Lake 
 of Orta. His architect, Pirovano, has there thought 
 to give an example, though somewhat free in its appli- 
 cation, of the old Lombard style, so he tells me. 
 
 We took a last look at the gardens, the villa, and 
 this beautiful lake, which far surpassed my expecta- 
 tions. The tiny villages dotted here and there on the 
 mountain sides, as well as on the shores of the lake, 
 caught the last rays of the setting sun on the red roofs 
 and white plaster of the houses, and gave to the whole 
 surroundings a sense of peace — perhaps rather more 
 tranquil and smiling than those views that include 
 the austere grandeur of great mountains and vast seas. 
 
 The road along the shores of the lake homeward 
 [260] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 was beautiful, and it is always delightful to motor In 
 Italy at the sunset hour. There is no exaggeration in 
 the far-famed Italian sunset, and in an automobile, 
 while passing rapidly from one hill-point to another, 
 one has the rarest feast of color. 
 
 My rooms are a veritable bower of flowers, for 
 each day, wherever we go, my arms are filled with the 
 rarest blossoms of the finest gardens and greenhouses 
 of this beautiful country. I am glad we are going to 
 Rome for the winter, for then my whole year will be 
 a continual flowery sojourn! 
 
 T. 
 
 [261] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 LoMBARDY, Milan, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE have come up to Milan for a few 
 days in order that we may prepare the 
 car, Vincenzo, and ourselves for colder 
 weather, but to-day we have had our 
 long-promised visit with the Duke and Duchess Vis- 
 conti di Modrone at their Villa Belvedere, which is 
 situated only a few kilometres from Milan, and a short 
 distance, as I wrote you the other day, from Canonica, 
 where the Countess Taverna stays in November. 
 
 As I have said, the Duke Visconti is a man of affairs 
 as well as of fortune. He is very much interested in 
 various business enterprises, and gives a large sum of 
 money and a great deal of time and attention to the 
 opera of the Scala in Milan, where such splendid pro- 
 ductions are given. It was a matter of a good deal of 
 regret to the Duke that Gatti-Cazzaza came to New 
 York, for he was one of the main supports of the 
 Milan Opera House. To-day there were in the party 
 the Count and Countess della Spina of Florence, 
 Count Cusani-Confalonieri, now Minister to Switzer- 
 land, a young lady of the Castelbarco family, whose 
 sister married the brother of the Duke, and Count 
 Bulgarini. Duchess Marianna was extremely nice 
 about arranging for me to take the necessary photo- 
 graphs. We had a most delightful luncheon, the cele- 
 brated Visconti coat-of-arms being on all the rare 
 china used at table. While the Duke was showing 
 [262] 
 
STAIRWAY AT VISCONTI VILLA 
 OLMO, LAKE OF COMO 
 
 VILLA BELVEDERE, AT MACHERIO, NEAR MILAN, 
 OF DUKE VISCONTI DI MODRONE 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Cusani his stables, horses, and automobiles, the Duchess 
 and I took pictures upstairs, and I enjoyed talking over 
 our mutual friends, and my visits already past and 
 prospective. 
 
 It is very difficult to take a large number of people 
 with a kodak and give the necessary time exposure, 
 for do what you will somebody will laugh and set all 
 the others off, and then of course your films are useless; 
 but all the same I think I was successful in getting some 
 good pictures, not only of the villa, with its rare old 
 family laces and furniture, but of the people of our 
 present party. 
 
 The name Belvedere di Macherio seems most 
 appropriate for this villa of the Duke Visconti, as the 
 view embraces, from its high situation, the most charm- 
 ing panorama of the Brianza Alps and the fertile 
 valley of the Lambro. This villa, once called "Villa 
 Maggi," was bought by the present Duke's father about 
 1870, and his expert hands knew well how to trans- 
 form the hill, then given over to agriculture, into an 
 elaborate garden. Duke Uberto decided to reconstruct 
 the villa entirely, and has combined "modern con- 
 venience" with an appropriate Italian style of 1700. 
 The decorators have succeeded admirably. Various 
 ceilings and walls show many an ancestral portrait 
 and engraving of the Visconti family. 
 
 The slope of the gardens on one side is enriched 
 by many statues and a balustrade, and embellished 
 with numerous flower-beds artistically arranged after 
 the Italian manner. The vast garden has long paths 
 and great lawns enhanced by magnificent plants that, 
 cut by skilled gardeners, allow beautiful vistas of the 
 [263] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 surrounding panorama. This extends to the Berga- 
 mese hills, and continues far to the distant summits of 
 Varesotto and the snow-crowned tops of Monte Rosa. 
 
 However, the Duke was not content in his own 
 comfort and elegance, but erected an asylum to the 
 memory of his father, that he maintains himself for 
 the instruction and daily care of small babies. This 
 is a form of charity frequent in Italy, and is most prac- 
 tical, since the peasant mother leaves her child at the 
 refuge or asylum in the morning, and takes it again on 
 going home from her work. 
 
 The furnishings of the villa are really lovely; the 
 Italians have a way of pinning the rare old Milan point- 
 lace to the large upholstered armchairs and divans 
 that are placed around the drawing-room. Of course 
 it is effectively shown in this way, but I wish it 
 could be under glass, for it is so rare and so beautiful, 
 both in design and handwork, that it seems almost a 
 pity to have people rubbing against it, in constant 
 use. For the lighting of this villa the old fifteenth- 
 century lamps are ingeniously fitted with all the elec- 
 trical devices seen so often at home. The Duke is 
 absolutely up to date, and this villa, which is his fa- 
 vorite, is quite modern in construction. Though not so 
 very large, it has no less than twelve complete bath- 
 rooms. I tell you this for the reason that so many 
 people ask me how I can visit in ruined villas of Italy. 
 If I could take my inquisitive and incredulous friends 
 with me for a few days, I think they would go to 
 Newport with much less unbelief in the luxury of the 
 Italian than they have at the present time. 
 
 Duchess Marianna is the mother of five children, 
 [264] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 and yet looks as young and fresh as many an unmarried 
 girl. In her own favorite corner of the drawing-room 
 she has collected, what seems to be a sort of hobby 
 with her, an infinite number of small, exquisite, unique 
 silver trinkets. Here one often finds her reading in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 We shall come to Belvedere again in the next few 
 days, for I am very fond of the Viscontis, and they are 
 very cordial with their invitations. I shall go some day 
 to the cathedral for another walk on the roof, and we 
 shall try to get a glimpse of Crescenzago, where the 
 Marchese Visconti di San Vito has a villa, to which 
 he has asked us to come, and where he promises to 
 explain to me all the wonders of his silkworms and of 
 his bees. If possible, we shall make one or two more 
 calls in the neighborhood; but we shall soon go to 
 Bologna, through which we must pass on our way to 
 Florence, where we also plan now to stay a day or 
 two, and then go through Tuscany into Umbria. 
 
 Milan, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we have enjoyed our promised tea with 
 the Prince and Princess Molfetta at their beautiful 
 villa at Oreno. On the way there we went through 
 the town of Monza, picturesquely situated on the 
 river Lambro. We stopped for a few moments to 
 visit the cathedral, where is preserved the celebrated 
 "iron crown" supposed to have been the royal crown 
 of the Lombards, for Monza has been the coronation 
 place of the kings of Lombardy since the eleventh 
 [26s] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 century. The German emperors were crowned here 
 as kings of Italy from the thirteenth century onward, 
 and this extraordinary rehc was used at the coronation 
 of Emperor Charles V in 1530, and of Napoleon at 
 Milan in 1805, and of Emperor Ferdinand I in 1838. 
 Though called the "iron crown," it is really a circlet 
 of gold adorned with precious stones, while in the inte- 
 rior is a thin strip of iron said to have been made from 
 a nail of the true cross that was supposedly brought 
 by the Empress Helena from Palestine. Its present 
 form dates probably, from the twelfth century. The 
 Austrians carried it to Vienna in 1859, but after the 
 peace of 1866 it was restored. The plain sarcophagus 
 of the Queen Theodolinda of the fourteenth century 
 is another of the interesting sights in this old church, 
 and the work of silver gilt representing a hen with 
 seven chickens, supposed to symbolize Lombardy and 
 its seven provinces, executed by the order of this queen, 
 is one of the interesting and unusual things. 
 
 For many years — indeed up to the time of the 
 tragic death of King Umberto I — the royal palace at 
 Monza was the summer resort of the Italian royal 
 family. The classic building stands in an extensive and 
 beautiful park, which is crossed by the river Lambro; 
 but since the death of the king the palace has been 
 closed, although the public are allowed to enjoy the 
 attractive park, through which we took a hasty spin. 
 
 The villa we have seen to-day is essentially seven- 
 teenth century baroque, and was built by Giambattista 
 Scotti, Count of Colturano, a distinguished noble- 
 man of his time, as his correspondence with Eugene 
 of Savoy reveals. Devoted to his landed estates, 
 [266] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 he was one of the aristocratic dilettantes of his cen- 
 tury, who preferred to create for himself and his 
 descendants a beautiful country home, rather than 
 write the sonnets and pastorales of his time. Origi- 
 nally the garden was architecturally laid out after the 
 manner of the Italian garden of that time, flanked by 
 graceful linden trees, and having its theatre, its wooded 
 labyrinths, its small round lakes forming one design 
 after another in which were reflected various statues. 
 Long regular alleys of oaks to the four angles of an 
 enclosure form a shade from the mid-day sun, a path 
 bordered by linden trees extends from the house to the 
 little marble casino of Neptune, while great cancellated 
 gates of worked iron, surmounted by crowned eagles, 
 close the entrance of the villa that faces on a broad 
 street of the town. Montesquieu, during his travels 
 in Italy, was so impressed by the beauty of this villa 
 that he took from it the idea of his own castle of 
 La Brede. Although the park has undergone many 
 changes, fortunately the characteristically Italian por- 
 tion, that includes the water temple of Neptune, with 
 its gushing cascades at the foot of the great statue, its 
 staircase that leads to a terrace from which one has 
 a beautiful view of the whole villa and park, has been 
 left intact, with only the added beauty that time and 
 the soft green accumulations about the stone have 
 improved. 
 
 As the original owner of the villa died without heirs, 
 he was succeeded by the son of his wife by a former 
 marriage, Giambattista Gallarati, Marchese di Cerano 
 whose wife, Therese Spinola, had brought to the 
 family as her dot the Neapolitan titles of Galatina and 
 [267] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Molfetta. Duke Carlo, in the beginning of the nine- 
 teenth century, began the changes in the villa and its 
 gardens. He broke the architectural symmetry of the 
 old regular garden, to give more liberal scope to the 
 vegetation and waterways, thus letting Nature rather 
 than man complete the beauty of the place. 
 
 All this the Prince told me to-day in our long stroll 
 through the park after tea. It was very interesting 
 to see how the large, thick growth of the trees had 
 broken the regularity of what was formerly the central 
 path. The broad meadows seemed to be natural 
 pastures, giving quite the illusion of ending at the bor- 
 ders of the distant mountains. The brooklets, winding 
 among the young oaks, gathered up one after another 
 the streams, which ran on together to form the peaceful, 
 quiet lake encircled with great chestnuts and willows. 
 
 While this new gardening, which follows the Eng- 
 lish idea, is beautiful of course, there is a certain poetry 
 and charm about the old-time formal garden of Italy, 
 and I was very glad that the Prince had left unchanged 
 one part of the old park, encircled by ancient trees, 
 as an object consecrated, in a way, to a generation 
 that is past and an art that is well-nigh lost. It is 
 charming to visit these old country houses, to which, 
 generation after generation, the older members of the 
 family retire from the gay world to spend their quiet 
 days in rest and comfort; and surely these villas of 
 Italy are homes in every sense of the word — homes that 
 have been with each succeeding head of the family 
 improved, embellished, and in most cases enlarged. 
 It is a presumption entirely unwarranted that the 
 Anglo-Saxon vaunts himself of the word "home," 
 [268] 
 
SALON OF PRINCESS MOLFETTA-SCOTTI 
 
 Daughter of Duchess of Melzi d'Eril, in the J' ilia Scotti 
 at r e n , near Milan 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 claiming that it does not exist in the Latin languages. 
 The spelling of the four letters may be missing, but 
 the sentiment is quite as evident in an Italian house- 
 hold as anywhere in the world. 
 
 It was delightful to-day to see the Princess sur- 
 rounded by her eight children, and when she introduced 
 the Countess Borromeo, I thought she was presenting 
 me to a younger sister, and could hardly believe my 
 eyes when the Princess told me that the tall young 
 woman beside her was her daughter; more than all 
 that, that she herself had recently become a proud and 
 happy grandmother. I assure you she does not look 
 over thirty years of age, nor does the Prince show the 
 mark of years that must have brought many cares and 
 responsibilities in the rearing of these eight vivacious 
 children. The boys accompanied us through the park, 
 and on returning to the villa, we found the Countess 
 Borromeo-Doria, Marchese Cavriani, and a number 
 of other friends who had motored out from Milan. 
 The ever-thoughtful hostess had prepared some hot 
 drinks for us, fearing our long walk through the park 
 so late in the afternoon would have been too cold, and 
 as we sat chatting merrily about the big open fire where 
 the crackling of the wood punctuated our conversation, 
 I did not realize that there is such a thing as time 
 until long past the hour when we shoud have been start- 
 ing for home. The Italian woman is, undoubtedly, a 
 perfect hostess, and self-consciousness seems to have 
 been omitted entirely from the Italian nature. Would 
 that the Anglo-Saxon could lose his over-generous share 
 of that quality! In all the comings and goings of the 
 different motors during all my visits of the past month, 
 [269] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 amidst all the varying introductions to me, for of 
 course all these people know one another, there has 
 never been the smallest confusion, or, as the French 
 word so aptly describes, "gene." It was fortunate 
 that we are staying in Milan to-night, for we should 
 have been late indeed had .we returned to Como. 
 To-morrow we are really going South, having delayed 
 day after day as long as possible. 
 
 [270 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Cernobbio, Lago di Como, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 IN spite of all our resolves we have delayed one 
 more day, and this morning we took Mrs. 
 Fisher, and made our excursion to the quaint 
 and attractive town of Bergamo, originally 
 belonging to Milan, but which in 1428 came under 
 the power of Venice when that republic graspingly 
 reached its way back on the mainland. The town 
 consists of two separate parts, one of which is called 
 the **citta alta," most picturesquely situated on the 
 top of a high hill; while the lower city, one of the 
 busiest of the small manufacturing towns in Italy, 
 occupies the plain below. The run through this Bri- 
 anza country in the early morning was altogether 
 lovely, and we reached Bergamo in time to motor all 
 about the lower town, and had an excellent luncheon 
 at the large and comfortable new hotel before climbing 
 to the old and high city on the mountain. A long 
 avenue of chestnut trees lines the road that connects 
 the new town with the "citta alta." The ascent is 
 very steep, and it seemed to me almost impossible that 
 our automobile would be able to carry us through the 
 great gateway, make the sharp turn, and mount the 
 almost perpendicular road that leads into the pictur- 
 esque old market-place, now called Piazza Garibaldi. 
 The old Gothic Palazzo Vecchio, which has an open 
 colonnade on the lower floor, is now used as a library, 
 but we were most interested in the wonderful wooden 
 [ 271 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 inlayings of the Romanesque Church of Santa Maria 
 Maggiore, built in 1137. 
 
 Of all the numerous choir stalls of Italy, to which 
 so many lives have been given and so much talent 
 devoted in the designing, carving, and careful exe- 
 cution, I think these inlaid panels and seats of the 
 choir of this church at Bergamo far surpass anything 
 we have yet seen. They are very properly kept cov- 
 ered, but we had no difficulty in getting the sacristan 
 to show them to us. The stalls were done by Capo- 
 diferro in 1522-32, while the large panels on the 
 balustrade at the front were done by Giovanni Belli. 
 There is a very beautiful monument of modern Italian 
 sculpture by Vincenzo Vela, to the Italian composer 
 Donizetti, who was a native of this town. All about 
 the walls of the church hang most beautiful Flemish 
 tapestries, but the interior restorations of baroque 
 style do not seem at all in keeping with the simple 
 beauties of the cinquecento. As we came out of the 
 church we stopped to admire the ancient lion portals, 
 and then went on to see the Cappella Colleone with its 
 lavishly sculptured facade, which is generally thought to 
 have been much modernized at the time of the restora- 
 tions in the latter part of the eighteenth century. 
 
 The interior contains an elaborate tomb of the 
 founder, Bartolomeo Colleone (1475), whose statue 
 we saw in Venice a short time ago, and of which 
 Ruskin wrote that he did not believe there was a 
 more glorious sculpture existing than this equestrian 
 statue. The tomb was begun by Giovanni Amadeo, 
 and represents reliefs from the life of Christ. It is 
 surmounted by a gilded equestrian statue of Colleone 
 [272] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 by Sextus Siry of Nuremburg. There is another fine 
 monument, by Amadeo, and above the altar to the 
 left a "Holy Family," by Angelica Kauffmann. Here, 
 again, we were shown most beautiful inlaid work, and 
 this gem of art was completed by a ceiling by Tiepolo. 
 
 A little to one side of the Piazza in the Via Colleone 
 we were shown the dwelling of this once famous man, 
 who bequeathed his house to the city as an orphan- 
 age in 1466. I was extremely sorry that the deep 
 mourning of Countess Colleone, the sister of Donna 
 Eleanor Rospigliosi and of the Duchess Niccoleta 
 Grazioli, should, as in the case of her sister-in-law, 
 now Princess Giustiniani Bandani, prevent our prom- 
 ised visit to their castle at Thiene near Venice, but 
 we hope to see her another year. 
 
 Altogether, the old city on the top of this mountain 
 has distinctly a mediaeval air, and one seems to look 
 out from the past on to a modern world as one 
 descends the old heavily paved streets to enjoy the 
 beautiful views of the plains of Lombardy, the Berga- 
 mese Alps, and the modern town below. 
 
 We decided to run on from here to Soncino, where 
 the famous castle was long the stronghold of the family to 
 which the Marchese Casati Stampa di Soncino belongs, 
 though the castle was left by his relative as a monument 
 to the town (which is situated on the river Oglio),and we 
 were well repaid for our journey thither, for the castle is 
 one of the best examplesof fifteenth century strongholds. 
 
 We also went through the quaint little town of 
 San Pietro, where we stopped to get fruit and cakes, 
 as we had not had time for tea. The town is ap- 
 proached by old stone bridges, and one twists in and 
 [273] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 out of the narrow streets, continually forced to ask 
 the way. We found some delicious goodies in a queer 
 little shop presided over by a very old lady, with 
 one of the quaint colored handkerchiefs of these parts 
 tied over her head. After selecting a goodly variety of 
 cakes, crackers, fruits, and sweets, we asked the old lady 
 how much we were to pay her. It was some few cen- 
 times less than a franc, and when I paid her and she took 
 out a tiny earthen saucer such as one sees in the hands 
 of the Roman figures sculptured on the Roman tombs 
 at the museum at Bologna, I discovered numerous 
 tiny coins. On asking her about them, she smilingly 
 picked out the smallest one, and handed it to me, say- 
 ing: "You will not see this every day, Signora. May 
 it bring you 'buona fortuna.'" On examination it 
 proved to be a perfect copper piece of one centime, 
 and considering what we had paid for the large bundle 
 we carried to the automobile, I should think living here 
 must be very economical. 
 
 There was a special atmosphere about this little 
 old town that was enchanting. I think few travellers 
 come this way, for the inhabitants seemed to be so 
 much interested in the automobile! The old church 
 has the most extraordinary statues and ornaments 
 ranged about a sort of terrace in front, and every- 
 thing seemed to be quite unusual and interesting here. 
 
 We have been, too, to the famous castle of the 
 famous family of Borromeo, on the beautiful island 
 in the Lake of Maggiore; that has been, however, so 
 much written of, and so often photographed, that it 
 seems almost wise, in spite of its rich possibilities for 
 description, to pass it by. 
 
 [274] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Tuscany, Florence, October 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 OUR stay in Bologna was so brief yet so 
 busy (for everybody came to see us the 
 one afternoon we were there) that it was 
 impossible to write. Our trip to-day from 
 Bologna up over the Pass Delia Futa over the great 
 rocky Apennines adds one more wonderful vision for 
 our memories to hold. We did not start until after 
 lunch, as Hercolani, who came in to see us, said that 
 the journey was not long, and that the roads would 
 be in excellent condition; so we stopped at his villa, 
 which is directly on the way, to have another look at 
 the beautiful Venus and Cupid of Canova, and to see 
 some of his photographic successes, as I have been 
 showing him my way of taking interiors. The motor 
 map indicated numerous dangerous turnings, and I 
 was glad that I felt sure of Vmcenzo's driving; it 
 seemed as if we should never stop going up; each curve 
 and sharp turn of the road brought us to a steeper 
 ascent than the one just made; five hundred metres, 
 eight hundred metres, and finally, nine hundred sixty- 
 eight metres brought us to the top of the pass. Here 
 a little red *'d" with a cross said "dangerous" for 
 automobiles, according to my map, but we found no 
 dangers; and I fear I saw little of the road, for so glo- 
 rious were the deep yellow and blue lights over the 
 mountains, which with the last rays of the setting sun 
 turned purple, that my eyes had vision only for this 
 [275] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 feast of color. The gradual descent from the top of 
 the pass, down, down into the valley of the Arno, 
 through Vaglia and Fonte Buona, was beautiful be- 
 yond description; and when we left this last little 
 town, where we were obliged to stop on account of a 
 tire and air chamber, and went down the hill lined 
 with tall cypress trees, we had a wonderful view of the 
 now brilliantly lighted city of Florence below us. 
 
 At every town there is the octroi or municipal 
 duty, extracted from the farmers outside the city; 
 an endeavor, I suppose, to readjust or equalize the 
 expenses of city living with the lesser demands upon 
 the countryman outside. These municipal custom- 
 houses are the greatest nuisance to automobilists, but 
 Vincenzo has a wonderful way of seeming frightfully 
 hurried to the officer who comes out to ask us if we 
 have anything dutiable to declare. "Which is the 
 nearest way out of the city.?" he always exclaims. 
 "We are going right through — must get on," while 
 I reach from the window and repeat the question, 
 adding by way of afterthought, "We have nothing to 
 declare." The astonished guard generally forgets all 
 about his duties in his interest to explain to us the 
 way to reach the opposite gate of the city, and once 
 past we go tranquilly on to our hotel without having 
 bag or baggage disturbed or inspected. 
 
 Florence, to me, is like a wonderful old lady who 
 shows the traces of great beauty, but who has been 
 surrounded so much and so often by the foreigner that 
 a part of her individual self has been lost in adopt- 
 ing by sympathetic imitation the habits and ways 
 of those constantly about her. Florence, in the old 
 [276] 
 
•\'\ 
 
ITALIAN C 
 
 feast of color. The gradual descent from the top of 
 the pass, down, down into the valley of the Arno, 
 through Vaglia and Fonte Buona, was beautiful be- 
 yond description; and when we left this last little 
 town, where we were obliged to stop on account of a 
 tire and air chamber, and went down the hill lined 
 with tall cypress trees, we had a wonderful view of the 
 now brilliantly lighted city of Florence below us. 
 
 At every town there is the octroi or municipal 
 duty, extracted from the farmers outside the city; 
 an endeavor, I suppose, to readjust or equalize the 
 expenses of city living with the lesser demands upon 
 the countryman out§ide. These municipal custom- 
 houses are the greatest nuisance to automobilists, but 
 Vincenzo has a wonderful way of seeming frightfully 
 
 hurp§(^Etq.i*g ppi^fc^'b^o^Wf) m^^N^^iPa ^^ ^'^ 
 have arfy^M?fi|Rd¥i&al)feNt?5C(i(S(i)mF sVi\^}»ich is the 
 
 nealreSt^^ay"6lif €PWt?'^1^n'»^' '-^^ cathedral of Siet^a,. 
 
 **We are going right through ■ ^.^^'^ ^^^^ ^If^ 
 
 I reach from the window and repeat the question, 
 adding by way of aft ■ ' ':t, "We have nothing to 
 declare." The a^itc;- lard generally forgets all 
 
 about his duties in his interest to explain to us the 
 way to reai ' oosite gate of the city, and once 
 
 past we go v on to our hotel without having 
 
 bag or baggage disturbed or inspected. 
 
 Florence, to me, is like a wonderful old lady who 
 shows the traces of great beauty, but who has been 
 surrounded so much and so often by the foreigner that 
 a part of her individual self has been lost in adopt- 
 ing by sympathetic imitation the habits and ways 
 of those constantly about her. Florence, in the old 
 [276] 
 
TiS^ 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 part — the river, the Ponte Vecchio, the old palaces, so 
 many of which, unfortunately, have been torn down 
 — is always beautiful and always fascinating, and the 
 surrounding hills of the Apennines are exquisite to 
 eternity; but the city itself, where we go every day, 
 has so submitted to the notions of the outsider, that 
 the real Italian flavor seems to have been lost. The 
 shops are beautiful, much better than in many of the 
 Italian cities, but there is a foreign air about them 
 that does not seem natural. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tuscany, Florence, October 
 
 "But Arno wins us to the fair white walls, 
 Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps 
 A softer feeling for her fairer halls. 
 Girt by her theatre of hills, she reaps 
 Her corn, and wine, and oil, and Plenty leaps 
 To laughing life, with her redundant horn. 
 Along the banks where smiling Arno sweeps 
 Was modern Luxury of Commerce born, 
 And buried Learning rose, redeem'd to a new morn." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 This afternoon Count Cesnola, the nephew of the 
 one-time director of our Metropolitan Museum, of 
 whom I wrote you a good deal some time ago, came in 
 to call upon us, and has promised to go with us to 
 Siena, where his sister has but recently married the 
 young Baron Sergardi-Beringucci. Sergardi is very 
 rich, and has numerous villas in and about Siena to 
 which Cesnola has invited us by proxy, being a very 
 dear and intimate friend of his new brother-in-law. 
 [ 277 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The days are beginning to have the sharp air of 
 autumn, but it is ideal for motoring, and I am look- 
 ing forward with keen anticipations to Siena and the 
 villages of Tuscany, for it is only in the small country 
 towns that one gets the real flavor of any locality. 
 Cities nowadays are becoming so cosmopolitan, and 
 in Florence one hears in the Via Tornabuoni more 
 English than Italian. 
 
 Of course I shall write you very little of Florence, 
 we have been here so often together, and besides, its 
 history is so complex, so wonderful that it has filled 
 many volumes, and will probably be the subject of 
 libraries of books in the future. Certainly from these 
 noble Florentines have sprung many wondrous intel- 
 lects that are eternal ornaments to the human race, 
 and the city was for many years the focus of all the 
 intellectual life of Europe. It is said of the Medici, 
 who have made their name synonymous with Florence, 
 that no tyrants or leaders of men have at any time in 
 the history of the world given so lavishly and done 
 so much for the cause of art for art's sake as these 
 doctors of the six pills of the Medici arms. 
 
 I feel here, as I did in Venice, that as our stay is 
 to be so short, I shall simply revisit some of my 
 favorite pictures in the galleries, and spend at least 
 one morning with the beautiful paintings of Fra Angel- 
 ico in the monastery of San Marco. I think perhaps 
 the loveliest of all is the picture one sees over the 
 entrance, Christ as a pilgrim welcomed by two Domin- 
 ican monks, and I succeeded in getting a fairly good 
 copy to bring home. 
 
 We went for tea over the Ponte Vecchio, past all 
 [ 278 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the little *' outdoor showcase" shops, through the Porta 
 Romana to the Viale dei Colli, up the winding ascent 
 past the road that leads to Galileo's tower, to the great 
 square of Piazzale Michael Angelo which forms a sort of 
 projecting terrace, as you will undoubtedly remember, 
 overlooking the city. 
 
 The view from this piazza is really most lovely. 
 The hill was fortified by Michael Angelo in 1529, then 
 acting as an engineer for the republic. Duke Cosimo 
 I de' Medici made the hill into a regular fort some 
 years later. 
 
 We are going to-morrow to a luncheon that the 
 Prince and Princess Abamalek-Lazarew are giving 
 for us at their historic and beautiful Villa of Prato- 
 lino, only a short distance from here. 
 
 The Princess was born a Princess Demidoff, and is 
 rich even for the rich Russians, which means much. 
 She is a very beautiful woman, the daughter of a 
 beautiful mother and grandmother, and has devoted 
 a great deal of time to her chosen art — that of dancing. 
 Wherever she is, whether in her villa outside of Rome, 
 where she entertains so elaborately, in Paris, or on her 
 journeys, her dancing-master is always in her suite, 
 and hours each day are devoted to the careful study 
 of, and training for, some national or fancy dance. 
 She does not stop at mere posture and pose, but has 
 gone in for the toe dancing as well, and is really an 
 expert. 
 
 It is rather late. Good-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 [279 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Florence, Tuscany, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 Our day with the Princess has been deHghtfuI, 
 and we were indeed fortunate to find her and her hus- 
 band here, for they are about to start on their travels 
 to Paris, and later we shall find them in Rome. 
 
 The Villa of Pratolino is perhaps the most famous 
 and beautiful of all the villas about Florence, and 
 belonged formerly to the Grand Dukes of Tuscany. 
 The chateau was built by Buontalenti about 1569, at 
 the instance of the Grand Duke Francesco de' Medici, 
 to serve as the home of his bride, Bianca Cappello, 
 that beautiful Venetian about whom so many stories 
 and legends have been written. We passed the colos- 
 sal crouching figure that is supposed to represent 
 the Apennines, and recalled the famous legend of 
 the Bianca's leopard; certainly the portrait by Bron- 
 zino that we saw yesterday in the Pitti gallery, and 
 another to-day in the villa, would indicate that there 
 was no exaggeration in the much-famed beauty of 
 this extraordinary woman. The daughter of a Vene- 
 tian noble, Bartolomeo Cappello, and said to be the 
 beauty of Venice, she had run away with a young 
 Venetian, not of noble birth. Her name was scratched 
 from the lists of the Venetian patricians, and after 
 a time the Duchy of Venice demanded from Flor- 
 ence the extradition of the runaway couple. Bianca, 
 already tired of the humdrum life of poverty in her 
 new but poor Tuscan home, determined to make the 
 appeal of her own beauty to Grand Duke Francesco 
 [280] 
 
Kj^''^^,,^^^^^ ^!^^5J^=^^i^::=_(\^^^;^^^^^*^. 
 
 Hi. 
 
 PRINCESS ABAMELEK-LAZAREW 
 
 Born Princess D e m i d o ff 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 de' Medici. Politics at that time helped her and Bian- 
 ca had not undervalued her charms. The Duke not 
 only refused to give up the Venetian beauty and her 
 husband, but gave them both a post at court. That 
 post became a dangerous one, for die Duke's admira- 
 tion changed to positive desire, while Bianca, realizing 
 her power, announced that she would give herself 
 to the Duke only when she became Grand Duchess 
 of Tuscany. Divorce was not possible, and the Duke 
 was already married to a daughter of the Emperor, 
 while Bianca's husband seemed in no way likely to 
 die. Those were fierce times, and people did not hesi- 
 tate to arrive at the accomplishment of their wishes 
 by fair means or foul ; it was not long before Pietro had 
 disappeared, and the Duke's wife had died of poison. 
 Such is the power of success and fortune that no sooner 
 did Bianca become Grand Duchess of Tuscany than 
 representatives of the Doge, bringing gifts of jewels 
 and silver, besought her to name any gift from her 
 native city, and were only too anxious to re-enroll 
 her name among the nobles of Venice. In the years 
 gone by, Bianca had been fascinated by a beautiful 
 leopard kept in the public gardens of Venice, and she 
 made the strange request for this animal. He proved 
 useful, as it turned out, as the means she used to defi- 
 nitely rid herself of her one-time husband. His mother, 
 seeing the advantage it would be to herself and her 
 son to have Bianca become Grand Duchess of Tuscany, 
 pretended that he had been killed by "bravi," and 
 substituted in his place a peasant boy with face stabbed 
 out of recognition. But Pietro was not so docile to his 
 mother's schemes for wealth, and came back later to re- 
 [281] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 claim the beautiful Bianca,whom he found in the gardens 
 of Pratolino. Bianca treacherously promised to follow 
 him that night, and on her return to the palace, ostensibly 
 to make the necessary preparations for leaving, she let 
 loose the leopard from his cage, who seemed by instinct, 
 so the legend runs, to know the will of his mistress, and 
 soon mutilated beyond recognition poor Pietro, whose 
 body was thought by the guards of the Duke to be 
 merely that of a venturesome poacher. 
 
 But these two who had arrived at their happiness 
 through fierce and foul means were, in turn, to be the 
 objects of furious envy and hatred by the ambitious 
 younger brother of Francesco, the Cardinal Ferdinando, 
 who some years later so arranged the repast he was 
 to eat with the Duke and Duchess that they both ate 
 of the poison they had given to others and died. 
 Cardinal Ferdinando would allow no doctor to ease 
 the pains caused by the poisoned fruit eaten by his 
 brother and notorious sister-in-law, nor would he allow 
 Bianca to be buried in the family tomb. 
 
 Traditions and stories of Bianca cling to all the 
 villas that have once belonged to the Medici, but par- 
 ticularly to Pratolino. The villa is plain but elegant 
 in outline. 
 
 The architecture of Florence in its square campa- 
 niles, its black and white lines, is generally termed 
 Renaissance rather than Tuscan. Since the days of the 
 ancients, Italy had never had such massive founda- 
 tions and buildings as those of the palaces of the Pitti, 
 the Medici, and the Strozzi, and to this strength there 
 was abundant grace added in the wide eaves and deep 
 loggie. One of the best examples of the classic archi- 
 [282] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 tecture of that time is this very villa of Pratolino 
 designed by Buontalenti. 
 
 The Princess keeps armed custodians in the rather 
 picturesque gray uniforms all about the extensive park, 
 but they lend a rather military and defensive atmos- 
 phere to this peaceful villa, where the Prince and 
 Princess gave us a most' cordial welcome. 
 
 I was very much interested in discussing with the 
 Prince during luncheon the condition of women in 
 Russia. "Your women in America are not nearly as 
 free, so far as property is concerned, as are our women 
 in Russia," he explained. "A Russian woman owning 
 land may dispose of it at her will, without the signa- 
 ture of her husband or without even consulting him. 
 She may spend her patrimony as she likes, and her 
 husband has no control over it whatever; this surely 
 is not the case in your country." He then asked the 
 prospective dot of a certain marriage we were dis- 
 cussing, and I said I supposed somewhere about two 
 million dollars, which the Prince seemed to think very 
 beggarly for a person of high position. 
 
 After luncheon the Prince very amiably said, 
 "Now, I will be your Baedeker, and since you are inter- 
 ested in works of art, and in the villa, let me take you 
 about." It was surely a most interesting tournee, and 
 I cannot begin to tell you of all the exquisite things 
 the Princess has inherited, collected, and arranged here 
 at Pratolino. I was very pleased to be able to read 
 the names of the numerous Russian painters written in 
 Russian on the frames of the paintings in the collec- 
 tion of the villa. So few foreigners study Russian that 
 the Princess was quite surprised that I had got even 
 I 283] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 thus far. Of the best known artist to us at home, 
 Verestchagin, there were some most beautiful canvases. 
 The Napoleonic collection of the Princess Abamalek is 
 altogether extraordinary, a whole salon being completely 
 furnished, even to bric-a-brac, with things that actually 
 belonged to and were used by the great Emperor. 
 
 You remember that Princess Mathilde Bonaparte 
 married Anatole Demidoff, the first Prince of San 
 Donato. The Demidoff family descends from Nikita 
 Demidoff, a blacksmith in the shop at Tula, where 
 he attracted the attention of the famous Peter the 
 Great, and was by him ordered to make armor 
 and weapons of defence. Peter the Great made few 
 errors, not only in his judgment of politics, but in 
 his judgment of people, and so well was the armor 
 made that the blacksmith was made a nobleman in 
 1724, and given immense properties in the Ural Moun- 
 tains, where he had founded a mining industry and built 
 iron foundries. His great-grandson, Nicolas Demidoff, 
 established himself at Florence toward the end of the 
 eighteenth century and acquired the fief and countal 
 title of San Donato, which was confirmed by the 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany in 1837. The Tuscan title 
 of Prince of San Donato was confirmed in 1840 and 
 recognized by the King of Italy in 1872, when a 
 similar permission to bear this title was granted by 
 the Czar of Russia. In 1884, by special decree, all 
 members of the household have the right to the title 
 of Prince. Their arms include a combination of those 
 of the city of Florence with the original arms of the 
 Demidoff, which include three instruments of miners 
 in silver. The title of Prince of Abamalek-Lazarew 
 [284] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 comes in some way from districts in the Caucasus 
 Mountains. 
 
 While the Prince showed F. B. some of his 
 beautiful books, the Princess asked me to come into 
 her boudoir, which is certainly the most unique room 
 I have ever seen, for every decoration of every kind 
 represents a kiss. Rare engravings, some of them 
 by very distinguished artists, give various phases 
 and stages of the kiss. Beautiful Dresden china fig- 
 ures, and rare porcelains of many kinds ornament the 
 room, but all the figures, however varied, are in oscu- 
 latory positions. Even the bell, lying on the small 
 table beside the Princess' chaise-longue, was made of 
 two tiny bronze heads, and electricity was so applied 
 that the bell rang only when the two came together 
 for a kiss. It must have taken a long time and innu- 
 merable visits to antiquaries and art shops to have so 
 carefully completed this dainty room, so entirely dedi- 
 cated to Eros. The chaise-longues of the Princess 
 Abamalek are always complicated and exquisite. An 
 elaborate cover of cloth-of-gold with embroidered 
 flowers done in dainty colors was thrown over the 
 lower part of this boudoir couch, and small, elegant 
 pillows placed at the back. The Princess caught up 
 from a near-by table an exquisite case which she said 
 she had recently found in Paris; she seemed to think 
 little of buying this "vanity," which was made of 
 the rarest enamel outlined in sizable sapphires and dia- 
 monds, for later she showed me another small purse 
 bought about the same time, set with most beauti- 
 fully cut rubies in the form of a four-leaved clover. 
 Her jewels, of which a part were here at Pratolino, 
 [285] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 were arranged in open cases, in a sort of glass-topped 
 table, at one side of the room, and I have never seen 
 more beautiful black and pink pearls than are in the 
 possession of the Princess Abamalek. 
 
 From this dainty boudoir I went with her into her 
 bedroom, which possesses all the luxurious magnifi- 
 cence that seems to surround this beautiful woman 
 at every turn. The jewels about the Russian enamel 
 figure of the saint at the head of the bed were superb 
 emeralds of immense size combined with pearls, dia- 
 monds, and other precious stones. The Princess must, 
 indeed, be sure of her servants to have so much value 
 exposed to view! No wonder she keeps chasseurs in 
 the park and at the entrance gates! 
 
 After we had made the tour of the upper rooms, 
 we were taken through a long corridor, where numerous 
 works of art were hung and where we saw a beautiful 
 portrait of Bianca Cappello, to an immense room that 
 was added to the villa by the father of the Princess. 
 Here we had our coffee. Though the many photo- 
 graphs, easy chairs and hospitable cushions give the 
 place a nice air of comfort and homeliness, the room 
 is a real museum. I took a photograph of the Prin- 
 cess sitting on a divan that was worked by Pauline 
 Bonaparte, and directly back of her was a statue of 
 Venus by no less a sculptor than the great Canova. 
 I think, however, the thing that impressed me most 
 of anything in the villa was the sword, kept under 
 glass, as indeed it should be, that belonged to Peter the 
 Great. To me this man is one of the most interesting 
 characters in all history, for his wonderful enterprise, 
 and his travels, which seem so easy now, but which in 
 [286] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 his day were so difficult, to all the different countries, 
 that he might gather for himself and for his people every 
 improvement of every kind. That the Russians have 
 well appreciated the value of his mentality is shown 
 in their careful following of his far-seeing advice as 
 expressed in his will. ''Marry in Germany, borrow 
 from France" are among the precepts of this great 
 document, so we are told by competent historians. 
 
 But it is useless for me to try to tell you of all the 
 wonders of this villa! It was much later than we 
 thought when we said our good-byes, and we barely 
 reached the Cesnolas' in time for our promised tea 
 with them. We have seen so much that is interesting 
 and wonderful to-day that my pen feels quite power- 
 less at the thought of telling you all. 
 
 Count Cesnola to-day expressed what the younger 
 Coquelin has so many times said: that, had it not been 
 for his brother, he might have had his proper fame, 
 for Cesnola was with his brother at the time of his 
 discoveries, and was acting as a vice-consul for the 
 United States when the treasures in Cyprus were found. 
 His own collection seemed to us most marvellous, and 
 the old gentleman showed us his treasures with every 
 interest and care. It seems that he must have had a 
 good many honors in spite of being a younger brother, 
 for on the wall there hung, framed, a collection of 
 no less than twenty medals bestowed for bravery in 
 battle, and for military services performed at different 
 periods of his career. His daughters, like true Floren- 
 tines, are really fine artists, and I was greatly inter- 
 ested in seeing their paintings, which were far above 
 the average standard. Countess Cesnola is an Eng- 
 [287I 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 lishwoman, and has always preferred to keep English 
 the language of the family, as is so often the case in 
 marriages of this sort. A charming and hospitable 
 hostess she was to us, and we are to come back to her 
 when we return from Umbria on our way for the short 
 opera season in Bologna. It seems wiser to make 
 this journey back, and to enjoy a bit of the season, 
 which comes very early in Bologna, since we may per- 
 haps go on later for a few days at Turin, from where 
 we can send the car on the train to Rome, as it will 
 then be too snowy on the mountains to go over the 
 road. I shall not write you for a few days, as we 
 start to-morrow for Siena. 
 
 T. 
 
 [288 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Siena, Tuscany, October 
 My dear M: 
 
 THERE has been no doubt to-day of our 
 having passed into Tuscany, for the long 
 lines of cypress trees that form a stately 
 approach to many of the villas told us 
 that we had left the land of ^Emilia, where, as in the 
 rest of Italy, these trees are seldom used except 
 as dignified sentinels in the cemeteries. When one 
 realizes that it is only custom that has made them 
 seem mortuary emblems, their arrangement and use in 
 Tuscany seems picturesque and charming. The road 
 to-day has been most beautiful. We chose to take 
 the more hilly and direct route by way of Galluzzo 
 and Poggibonsi, thus being able to see the picturesque 
 views from the rather steep ascents we were obliged 
 to climb. 
 
 We started rather early in the morning, and Ces- 
 nola was on time with a thoughtfully small amount 
 of baggage. We left Florence by way of the Porta 
 Romana, and went on over the Via Sienese in the bright 
 sunshine of the early autumn morning. We stopped on 
 a side hill, perforce, to replace a punctured air chamber, 
 and no sooner had the car come to a stop than we 
 were surrounded by numbers of girls, who seemed to 
 have come from nowhere, and not to be in any great 
 hurry to reach wherever they were going for they 
 stopped and talked with us, asking many questions 
 of that country America, where so many of their 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 relatives are now gone. Each and every one, to the 
 smallest child, was deftly platting strands of straw that 
 will some day fashion one of the paille d'ltalie (Leg- 
 horn straw) that make our pocketbooks considerably 
 slimmer after the purchase on the rue de la Paix in 
 Paris. Cesnola tells me I can get as many as I like 
 of these hats in Siena for a few lire, as all the people 
 in this part of the country braid straw rather more 
 than knit the socks which busy the fingers of the 
 peasant women of the other provinces. 
 
 Just before we arrived at the little orderly town of 
 Poggibonsi, the towers of San Gimignano caught my 
 attention from afar, and I could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to turn the car in the direction of this fascinating 
 and unique-looking place. We are all very glad 
 that we made the excursion. The town once was a 
 flourishing city, fought for, bled for, and finally cap- 
 tured by Florence, who stepped in apparently to settle 
 dissensions of the leading families, but in settling, like 
 many an advocate, took possession of the whole as 
 payment for services rendered. Its situation, on a lofty 
 hill that overlooks the surrounding rolling country, 
 is prominent and picturesque, and while only four- 
 teen of the once hundred or more great towers remain, 
 they give the city at a distance a vague recollection 
 of the far-off views of the skyscrapers of New York 
 as seen from one of the big liners coming up the harbor. 
 There is nothing new under the sun, and I could not 
 but think, as I looked at these stone towers, massive, 
 strong, and each representing the power and wealth 
 of its owner, how little humanity changes inwardly, 
 though the outward form and expression of human 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 nature be so different throughout the centuries. In 
 those days man fought man, and the strongest ruled 
 the weakest; nowadays combinations of men form 
 companies, Which intellectually vie with other com- 
 panies of men, and though it is a bloodless battle, it 
 is none the less keenly fought; and the expression of 
 the power attained is seen to-day in the erection, by 
 the most powerful of these great companies, of towers 
 that vie with one another in height, magnificence, 
 and solidity. 
 
 The town itself gives one more the sense of having 
 gone back to the Middle Ages than any place I have 
 seen in Italy. It is generally thought, and I believe 
 history records, that the San Gimignanesi are short 
 of stature, and perhaps the few men we saw walking 
 about the streets were rather undersized, though I think 
 often these things are somewhat exaggerated. We en- 
 gaged the services of a guide, as I always prefer to 
 do — not that I believe all he tells me, but that I lose 
 no time in finding my way about a town — and in 
 the crooked, curved streets of this little old place in 
 the hills, it was certainly necessary to be shown our 
 way about. We left Vincenzo with the car in the 
 central piazza, discoursing vigorously to crowds of the 
 inevitable small boy, who seemed to find a particular 
 delight in writing their names in the dust on the back 
 of the car. There is certainly no race suicide in Italy, 
 and these sturdy little youngsters seemed the embodi- 
 ment of good health and spirits as they gambolled 
 about, more playful than harmful. 
 
 The old Palazzo Comunale is a very fine example 
 of early Gothic, and contains many frescoes, that I 
 [291] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 fear we did not stop to see very thoroughly, for there 
 is so much to see in the town, and we enjoyed also 
 the beautiful view of the surrounding country, which 
 embraces the valley of the Elsa looking toward San 
 Miniato. Of the many towers of the town, that of the 
 Torre del Comune, which is one hundred seventy-four 
 feet high, overtops all the remaining thirteen, and was 
 built, so the custodian told us, by each of the great 
 families of the town giving and building a certain 
 section. 
 
 How can I convey to you the sense of having been 
 transported back so many hundred years! After all, 
 there was only the same piazza (square) surrounded by 
 the prominent buildings of the city, and the houses 
 of old Italian architecture, yet there was a something 
 in this town, an atmosphere, an aspect, a sensation of 
 age — great age and bygone days. The women in the 
 church were old ; most of the men in the streets were old ; 
 and as we turned the narrow street to go to see the 
 frescoes in the church of Sant' Agostino, I was able to 
 catch a photograph of a quiet old peasant woman, 
 sitting in the afternoon sunshine with her distaff and 
 spindle, making thread, quite as she would have done 
 in the same place, in the same way, centuries ago. 
 
 The frescoes are by Benozzo Gozzoli, a pupil of 
 Fra Angelico, and are very famous. They represent 
 the life of St. Augustine in seventeen different scenes, 
 from his boyhood to his death. Like all great artists, 
 he could not in all his productions give evidence of "feu 
 sacre," and while some of the scenes are really extraor- 
 dinarily well done, some of them seemed to me very 
 indifferent. At the right of the main entrance there is 
 [292] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 a beautiful altar of San Bartholdus. But I feel one 
 should come here to stay several days at the nice little 
 inn if one really wished to see the pictures as well as 
 to enjoy the spirit of the town. While I mean to come 
 back and study the beautiful Ghirlandajo frescoes, espe- 
 cially those representing the life of the strange little 
 Saint Fina of the town, to-day I preferred to walk 
 about the streets, paved with the great stones of the 
 past, watch the wine carts drawn by the long-horned, 
 sturdy cattle, just as they were drawn so many years 
 ago, stroll outside the old gate, and enjoy the general 
 sentiment of the place. As we came out of the cathe- 
 dral a woman passed, carrying a candle. "For your 
 saint.?" I asked her. "Ah, yes," she said, "Santa 
 Fina belongs to us. She died at the age of fifteen, 
 yet she was so good she was made a saint." One 
 author gives us a very unpleasant impression of this 
 little girl's life and inspiration, and surely it was unfor- 
 tunate if, as he tells us, she "merely lay quietly upon 
 her back until she died"; but the good that her influ- 
 ence has done is unquestioned, for the women of San 
 Gimignano are very pious, though the grave old 
 guide told me that it was quite out of fashion for the 
 men to go to confession any more. I do not see that 
 it particularly matters whether Santa Fina herself was 
 so marvellously good or not, if she was able to inspire 
 Ghirlandajo to paint such beautiful stories of her life 
 as are represented on the side walls of the chapel dedi- 
 cated to her. And if, as the years go by, any ugly 
 details of the actualities of her life fade away, why 
 drag them out into the broad sunlight of naturalism.? 
 Surely her influence is for the good, and the women 
 [293] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 who bring their candles and teach their children to 
 pray are not going the wrong way, at any rate. Re- 
 ligion in the Middle Ages was something so stilted, 
 so far above the understanding of the masses, that it 
 entered very little into everyday life. Men fought all 
 day, and returned at evening to pray at vespers in 
 the same church, and the incongruity never seemed 
 to strike them. Indeed, a man said to me once in 
 Rome, "So-and-so is one of the most religious persons 
 in Rome, and the greatest rascal." "But how is 
 that possible?" I answered. "My dear Signora," my 
 friend replied, "you must realize that religion and 
 morals have nothing to do with each other." This 
 was said in Rome in the twentieth century. How 
 much less, then, did the Latin mass of the priest reach 
 the hearts of the people in the old days of San Gimi- 
 gnano! I prefer to keep the poetical side of the little 
 saint's life to the fore, and the ugly version quite out 
 of the picture. 
 
 It was only after we had left San Gimignano and 
 had enjoyed all the views not only in the city, but 
 looking back to it as our automobile sped down into 
 the valley and came again on to the main road, that 
 Cesnola remarked, "I did not wish to interfere with 
 your pleasure at this interesting town, which you did 
 not say you were going to see, and I hope that my 
 relatives will have waited at their villa outside of 
 Siena, where they wrote me they were going to motor 
 to meet you." Of course we were very sorry not to 
 have known this before, but I cannot honestly say 
 we regretted having gone to dear San Gimignano, 
 which will always be one of my pleasantest memories 
 [294] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of this Italian autumn. We pushed the car pretty 
 rapidly, however, but it was far later than we thought 
 and quite dark, when coming up over a hill we spied 
 the black outlines of a tower against the sky. It was 
 only a question of moments before we passed the great 
 villa of which this tower was a part, when someone 
 ran out, calling us to stop. Cesnola was right; his 
 amiable relatives had been waiting in this villa since 
 four o'clock for our arrival. It was now nearly eight, 
 but their greeting was most cordial in the very dusky 
 twilight, where flashes from the headlights of the 
 automobile gave us only an idea of what these hos- 
 pitable friends looked like. Of course it was too late 
 to think of stopping here, as the villa is in the process 
 of complete renovation inside, and is to serve later as 
 the home of the bride, Cesnola's sister, and Baron 
 Sergardi. We tried to persuade them to come in to 
 dinner at the hotel with us, but the excuse of hunting 
 clothes, and our fatigue, made plain that the hospitality, 
 to their way of thinking, must first come from them to 
 us. I am sure I shall find the mother of Baron Ser- 
 gardi, who was with the party to-day with her daughter 
 and son, a most charming and agreeable personality, 
 for I liked her voice so much, and I always find it an 
 easy matter to adjust my opinions of people by the 
 tones of their voice and their manner of speaking. 
 
 Presently Sergardi's chauffeur swung their big 
 FIAT alongside ours, but quickly relinquished his 
 seat to the young Sienese nobleman, who is one of 
 the best gentleman chauffeurs, so Cesnola tells me, in 
 Italy. As they knew the road much better, and as 
 they are going straight on through Siena to the villa 
 [ 295 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 in which they are now Hving at the other side of the 
 city, we let them fly on ahead, and they were soon 
 lost in darkness. 
 
 We are most fortunately settled in this big hotel, 
 which was once a palace of one of the old Gori family 
 of Siena, and is situated on the main street of the 
 town, which to-morrow we shall sally forth to see. 
 For so many years I have wanted to come to Siena 
 that, were we not promised to Countess Annina Pic- 
 colomini in Pienza in a few days' time, I do not know 
 but I should spend the rest of the autumn here. We 
 received a very charming telegram from the Countess, 
 renewing her cordial invitation, and of course we are 
 delighted to have the opportunity to see her, and to 
 visit the famous ancestral home of her husband, who 
 still bears the historic name of Silvio Piccolomini. 
 After dinner we took a walk about the narrow streets 
 of this quaint old town, which, from its situation, is 
 divided into three parts: the section that lies to the 
 southwest between the Porta San Marco and the Via 
 Maremmana is called the citta terzo, or third city; 
 another section, which includes that part between the 
 Porta San Maurizio and the Via Romana, called San 
 Martino III, from the name of the church dedicated 
 to that saint which existed in that neighborhood from 
 the most ancient times; while the third and last sec- 
 tion of the city, between the Porta Camollia and the 
 Via Fiorentina, takes its name from the ancient gate. 
 The natural division of the town made also a natural 
 division of the people into companies, each distinguished 
 by its own leader or " gonfalone." Each third had a 
 banner of its own, around which its citizens quickly 
 [296] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 arranged themselves in time of trouble. As time went 
 on, the power of the people increased, especially as the 
 enmity to Florence increased. Siena forms perhaps 
 the best example of the communes, which form a sort 
 of link between the despotic rule of the sovereign and 
 constitutional monarchy; and barring Venice, which 
 was a very different type of government, that can hardly 
 come under the head of the mediaeval communes, it may 
 be said to Siena's credit that it was the last of the inde- 
 pendent communes to succumb to the rule of the tyrant. 
 The city seems to have existed always under an unlucky 
 star, for since the earliest times one disaster after an- 
 other seemed to overtake the town, and no sooner did 
 the people arise and bravely begin peaceful pursuits 
 when some other calamity, were it plague, emperor, 
 tyrant, or civil feuds, seemed to crush out the life and 
 almost the hope of what seemingly should have been a 
 most brilliant history. In many ways one may still call 
 it brilliant, for the valiant defence of the Sienese, first of 
 all against its envious rival, Florence, and its almost 
 superhuman adherence to the Ghibelline cause, for 
 which it suffered so much and so often, would indicate 
 at least stern determination and rare courage to main- 
 tain a position taken. 
 
 In the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries Siena 
 is said to have numbered one hundred thousand inhab- 
 itants, and the Sienese evidently excelled in many 
 things, since their tyrant, a fellow-citizen who assumed 
 and was able to keep for himself the supreme control 
 of the city over a considerable period of years, the art- 
 loving Pandolfo Petrucci, was surnamed II Magnifico, 
 and described by Machiavelli as the pattern of the 
 [297] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 despot. The spirit of democracy, of individual free- 
 dom, of the desire of each man to have his part in the 
 doings of the community in which he lives, is one of the 
 salient characteristics of the history of Siena, and even 
 in the height of its power the city manifested always a 
 preference for established rules and a dislike for inno- 
 vations, quite in contrast to its rival, Florence. 
 
 The awful siege that was protracted against Siena 
 by the Medici in 1554 is recorded in the glowing pages 
 of many histories, and the stately palaces — the unique 
 and altogether fascinating Croce del Travaglio, the 
 dignified Palazzo dei Signori della Republica, with its 
 slender Torre del Mangia, the exquisite fountain of 
 Jacopo della Quercia, the noble palaces of the Tolomei, 
 the Pannocchieschi d' Elci, and the Piccolomini — all 
 bespeak the stately grandeur, the haughty arrogance 
 of the proud Sienese. 
 
 The water for this fountain of della Quercia, 
 which, unfortunately, is only a replica of the original, 
 is supplied by a subterranean conduit sixteen miles 
 in length that has been in use since 1342, and very 
 probably much before that. 
 
 In some ways I prefer Siena to Florence. Perhaps 
 because it is more intimate. One comes to the old 
 Gori Palace (our hotel), and it is only a step to the 
 beautiful Loggia dei Mercanti, now used by the young 
 men of Siena for the smart club of the town, Circolo 
 degli Uniti. The sculptures are by Sienese masters of 
 the fifteenth century: Federighi and Vecchietta. A 
 turn to the left of our doorway brings us before the 
 stately palace of the Tolomei, that family who, with 
 the Piccolomini and Salimbeni, fought for supremacy 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 in the early days of the city's history. The massively 
 built Tolomei palace preserves its mediaeval character, 
 though a restoration skilfully done would prevent the 
 present crumbling of the beautiful mullioned windows. 
 On the opposite side of the street, in the little square 
 directly in front of this palace, stands a tall stone 
 pillar surmounted by the she-wolf and the suckling 
 twins; for it is believed by some that Siena was 
 founded by a son of Romulus. 
 
 Certainly throughout the length and breadth of 
 Italy, there is no other town that has preserved in all 
 its majestic sombreness the mediaeval character and 
 outward appearance. There is a sense here of great 
 age and haughty dignity, which seems to belong even 
 to the common people, and to the very stones of the 
 place, which reminds one of many of the towns of Spain. 
 There is an air, too, about the people on the streets, 
 a self-conscious independence, an amiable arrogance, 
 if one may use the term, such as one meets constantly 
 in Spain. Siena has long been noted for its tanneries, 
 and in strolling about the streets this evening, I was 
 surprised to see such fine-looking shoes in many of the 
 shops. We have bought endless postcards, photo- 
 graphs, and reproductions of paintings which I have 
 been looking through, thus preparing myself to better 
 enjoy the wonders of the town. To-morrow, however, 
 we are going in the morning to one of the Sergardi's 
 villas for photographic purposes, and to lunch on the 
 opposite side of the city at their other villa, where 
 we shall spend a good deal of time while here, 
 apparently, as our invitations are most cordial, and 
 the Sergardis have arranged already for us to take 
 [ 299 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 several excursions with them. I must close. Best 
 wishes to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 Siena, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning, as planned, we ran out very quickly- 
 through the ancient Porta CamoUia to the Villa Fioren- 
 tino, which looked much less imposing and altogether 
 more charming in the broad sunshine than in the dusk 
 of last evening. That which looked so grim against 
 the sky in the twilight, turned out to be a graceful 
 clock tower, and the gardens were literally ablaze 
 with autumn blooms. Why do people write books 
 about Italian villas and say that there are no flowers! 
 Even here in Tuscany in November were countless 
 roses and innumerable chrysanthemums of every sort 
 and kind, besides many other varieties of flowers, 
 apparently as much in blooming season as if it were 
 the middle of summer. 
 
 To-day is All Saints' Day, and the gardener, after 
 presenting me, according to his master's instructions, 
 with a large and beautiful bouquet of his chosen rari- 
 ties, asked if I would come and see the work he was 
 doing for the graves of the Sergardi family. We were 
 very glad to inspect this atelier, and studio it certainly 
 was, for we found him directing several undergardeners 
 in the making of many really beautiful flower pieces, 
 which were to be boxed that morning, and shipped by 
 train to Orvieto and other neighboring towns, where 
 members of the family are buried. He regretfully 
 [300] 
 
APPROACH TO VILLA SERGARDI AT CASALE 
 NEAR SIENA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 explained that the most elaborate pieces were already- 
 placed in the cemetery in Siena at the family tomb of 
 the Sergardi. When I say "elaborate pieces" I do 
 not mean a large bouquet of rare flowers tied with a 
 bow, but a stately broken pillar some three or four 
 feet in height, entirely made of tiny white chrysan- 
 themums, and surmounted by a wreath of rarest roses 
 and white orchids. If these and other similarly lavish 
 designs were of his lesser productions, we wondered 
 what the family had had made for them! Nothing 
 seems too much trouble for any Latin to do well, 
 and the Anglo-Saxon phrase, *'That will do," seems 
 not to exist in their vocabulary. 
 
 As this villa is much nearer the highway than many 
 in Tuscany, the elaborate garden is approached through 
 the long windows of a large salon at the back, and 
 crossing the formal garden, one arrives at a completely 
 arranged out-of-door theatre. Trellises covered with 
 fine vines form the wings of the stage on both sides; 
 tiny ferns, growing over a jagged rock, glisten with the 
 drops that strike them from the little tumbling spring 
 that comes from this declivity of the hill, into which 
 the theatre is built. Stone steps curving on both 
 sides and lined with varied blooms make a flowery 
 approach to the stage, where beautiful flowers and 
 maidenhair fern replace footlights. Rocks, shrubs and 
 flowers commingled in artistic confusion fill in the 
 space to the ground. I have seen many of these out- 
 of-door theatres in Italy, but none with more artistic 
 arrangement than this of the Villa Fiorentino. To 
 the left of the theatre is a broad terrace, and here 
 plays the inevitable Italian fountain. Across the small 
 [301] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 valley that lies between this hill and Siena one has the 
 beautiful view of the city — its old walls, the stately 
 Torre del Mangia reaching upward to the skies, the 
 cathedral with its campanile — all forming a picture 
 not soon to be forgotten. 
 
 Cesnola had played the part of host this morning, 
 for we found our automobile literally filled with more 
 flowers, and I think the people of Siena, as we ran 
 through the town, thought we were going to some sort 
 of fete, our floral display was so elaborate. 
 
 The road to Casale lies due south of Siena in 
 almost a straight line, and is very picturesque, going 
 up hill and down dale, by villas whose approach seems 
 to be invariably lined with stately cypress trees, the 
 sentinel guardians of these Tuscan homes of the hills. 
 The Sergardi villa stands on a high eminence some 
 kilometres from the main road, but every bit of this 
 distance is lined with these same dark green trees, and 
 so regularly are they planted, so even is their growth, 
 so clear in the noonday sun are the shadows across the 
 road, that one seems to be passing over a mosaic pave- 
 ment of black and white like that of the Tuscan cathe- 
 drals. We had scarcely passed the gateway of Siena, 
 when Baron Sergardi, his pretty wife, his mother, in fact 
 the whole party of yesterday, appeared in their big 
 FIAT to guide us to their home. Baroness Sergardi, 
 her daughter-in-law, and young Lodovico the son, came 
 with us, while F. B. and Cesnola went with Sergardi in 
 the open car, and I fear for once we did a little speeding 
 on the fine Tuscan highways. Sergardi has an enormous 
 siren, which should, and evidently does, clear the road a 
 mile in advance, and Vincenzo, like every chauffeur, has 
 [302] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the born spirit of a racer. Race he would, and race he 
 did; with pretty unfair odds, too, for our hmousine is, 
 of course, much heavier than the open car of the same 
 rating of Sergardi; but there did not seem to be much 
 choice in the speed of the two machines, and my only 
 regret was that we passed too quickly up the sunny 
 slopes, down into the valleys, and soon found ourselves 
 at the villa, where the family padre (priest) was waiting 
 to make his people and the foreign guests welcome. 
 
 At luncheon we were treated to the catch of the 
 huntsmen of the day before, and I felt almost guilty 
 at devouring numbers of the tiny little birds, which 
 are delicious, but to our ideas much too small to be 
 killed. *'You must be wonderful shots," I exclaimed, 
 as the platter with no less than fifty of these small 
 birdlings was passed about. **Yes, we all like to 
 shoot," said Sergardi. " But these birds were trapped," 
 and he tried to explain what seems to me an intricate 
 system of throwing of nets, whereby numerous coveys 
 of birds are captured and killed at leisure. After 
 luncheon we strolled about the grounds, which are left 
 in rustic simplicity, but where long aisles of stately 
 spruce and pine are made to form delightful shade for 
 an afternoon walk. From the hill to which this walk 
 leads, just back of the villa, Sergardi showed me the 
 little house in the plain below, from which these nets 
 for the birds are managed, and where the huntsman 
 goes and waits the passing of the flocks. Italy is the 
 country of passage for many birds, but few, if seen, 
 are allowed to pass the Italian's gun or trap; and this 
 particular villa of the Sergardis, though very prettily 
 furnished and delightfully comfortable, is considered 
 [303] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 rather more a hunting lodge than anything else, and 
 is lived in by the family only during the autumn or 
 hunting season. 
 
 I find most of my Italian friends as much interested 
 in photography as I, and to-day the Baron showed 
 me his kaleidoscope arrangement for his plates. It is 
 surely a very quick, comfortable, and pleasant way to 
 review the pictures of various trips and mutual friends, 
 and I mean to have one myself later on. Baroness 
 Sergardi is a beautiful girl, and I have rarely seen a 
 more idyllic couple than these two. Sergardi is evi- 
 dently tremendously in love with his young wife, 
 though in a thoroughly nice, sensible sort of way, and 
 for once, I think, there will be a delightful mother-in- 
 law, for one could not ask for a more charming person- 
 ality than that of Baroness Sergardi, who was born a 
 Countess Bracci-Testasecca, a distinguished name of 
 the near-by mountain town of Montepulciano. She 
 has kindly arranged for us to go there with her for an 
 afternoon visit to her brother, now the deputy from 
 the town to the Italian Parliament. So it is that my 
 trip is planning itself; or rather, my good friends are 
 planning it for me. 
 
 A little before four o'clock the cars were brought to 
 the door, and Sergardi said he was going to take us to 
 the old monastery of Monte Oliveto, but before leaving 
 we took another walk about the villa to thoroughly 
 enjoy the view of the great valley, through which flows 
 the river Merse, joined not far from Casale to the north 
 by the little torrent of Farma. Nearly all the land as 
 far as we could see belongs to Sergardi, and certainly 
 his patrimony is as beautiful as extensive. 
 [304] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 The Benedictine convent of Monte Oliveto Mag- 
 giore was founded in 1320 by Bernardo Tolomei, of the 
 great family of Siena. It is situated on a hill in the 
 centre of a sterile, chalky district, which, in the imme- 
 diate vicinity of the monastery, the energetic monks 
 seemed to have turned into a smiling garden. While 
 there can be no more Benedictines added to the con- 
 vent since its repression, those that remain are allowed 
 in the monastery, provided that they give the pass- 
 ing traveller a night's lodging, if he so desires. We 
 were pleasantly and courteously greeted by one of the 
 monks, as the automobile rounded the hill and dropped 
 down into the courtyard, through the approach of 
 trees, and soon we were making the tour of the large 
 cloister. It is decorated with frescoes, celebrated I 
 know, by Luca Signorelli (1497-98) and Antonio Bazzi, 
 called Sodoma (1505). The pictures represent scenes 
 from the story of Saint Benedict: the tempting of the 
 fasting monk in his cave in the mountain near Subiaco, 
 the resuscitation of a dead man whom Satan had 
 thrown from a wall, punishment of Florentius, and so 
 on. As a whole, the frescoes did not greatly impress 
 me, but there is one, a beautiful figure of Christ, 
 with the crown of thorns, by Sodoma, that is well 
 worth a visit to the monastery to see. The church, 
 which is entered from the cloisters, was modernized 
 in the eighteenth century, and there are some hand- 
 some choir stalls and some excellent inlaid work by 
 Fra Giovanni da Verona. Beyond the frescoes and 
 the charming view there is little to be seen here, and 
 we started back for Siena about six o'clock. As we 
 rounded the curve of the road that commands from 
 [305] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 its more elevated position a beautiful view of the con- 
 vent, I stopped to take a picture; they all laughed and 
 assured me it was much too late for any photographs, 
 but as my camera has rarely proved me false, and as 
 Sergardi was willing to help, I concluded to make the 
 attempt, and will send you the result, if satisfactory, 
 in a few days. 
 
 We were quickly back at the entrance to Casale, 
 refusing our pleasant invitation to pass the night with 
 the Sergardis, in order to be in Siena in the morning, 
 as we want very much to devote to-morrow to the 
 city itself. The next day we are planning to go with 
 our friends to Montepulciano. 
 
 We have had a long and interesting day, but I am 
 rather tired and shall not write more to-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 Siena, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning we did not follow the general tourists' 
 habit of going straight to the far-famed cathedral, but 
 walked, rather, up the street and climbed the hill to 
 the church of San Domenico, a lofty brick edifice of 
 no particular beauty, but which had much to do with 
 the interesting and altogether unique life of Saint 
 Catherine of Siena, in whom we are both so interested; 
 for it was in this church that she took her vows as a 
 young girl of fifteen, and became a member of what 
 is called the mantellate order of Dominicans. Saint 
 Catherine to me is the most human, the most reason- 
 able, and on the whole, the most charming figure of 
 [306] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the religious aesthetics of the Middle Ages. Born at a 
 time when neither The Nine, nor The Twelve, nor the 
 Riformatori seemed to bring order out of the chaos 
 of feuds and bloodshed that raged in the city of her 
 birth, Catherine came like an angel of peace and 
 mercy, when her presence was most needed and could 
 do the most good. Of course she underwent the 
 religious hysteria of the time, which was only to be 
 expected, for it was not an uncommon sight in those 
 days to see bands of excited seekers of salvation lacer- 
 ating their flesh with brandished thongs and chanting 
 dirges along the highways. In an age when men were 
 torn to pieces at the window of the Palazzo Pubblico 
 with red-hot pincers in order to terrorize their fellows 
 in the community, when murder and bloodshed were 
 the order of the day and the quickest way of settling 
 dispute, it seems indeed that a blessed Providence 
 must have sent Saint Catherine. She not only outlived 
 her practices of self-torture, but intelligently bene- 
 fited her fellow-creatures by adjusting savage feuds, 
 and converting their participants to Christianity. 
 From all we read of her, she must have possessed a 
 highly developed psychical power, and exercised, evi- 
 dently, an almost hypnotic influence on those who came 
 within her presence, for her converts were not only 
 among the weak and ill, but among the boldest and most 
 depraved men of her time. 
 
 Her wise judgment, her careful tact, her many 
 seemingly impossible conversions, soon came to be 
 known throughout Italy, and in the year 1375 she was 
 asked to visit Pisa and Lucca in order to decide diffi- 
 cult questions. 
 
 [307] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 It is also generally conceded that the thin, pale 
 woman, who made her way to and from audiences 
 along the stately and luxurious halls of the great 
 palace at Avignon, was the real cause of Gregory XI's 
 determination to return to Rome. It is indeed a 
 remarkable spectacle — this frail woman sent first by 
 mighty Florence as Ambassadress, and then guiding 
 the Pope to his rightful place. 
 
 It would seem that Marconi is ever to be asso- 
 ciated with the transmission of thought, for Stephen 
 Marconi, a young dandy of Siena, had early joined 
 Catherine's spiritual family as her principal secretary. 
 She seems to have greatly leaned upon his friendship, 
 and probably came as near to loving him as it was 
 possible for her ascetic nature. On her deathbed she 
 begged him to become a Carthusian monk, a wish he 
 carefully carried out, becoming the father superior of 
 his monastery. 
 
 After her death the fame of this strange and alto- 
 gether lovable woman grew much more than ever 
 before, and when Siena gave iEneas Piccolomini to 
 the papacy as Pius II, although she had been wor- 
 shipped without any formal authorization of the 
 Church, she was now duly canonized as a saint by a 
 Bull that raised her to the honors of the altar. She 
 has left a very complete and interesting picture of 
 herself in her letters. 
 
 The spot where she took her first vows is shown 
 in a chapel, a relic of the ancient church zealously 
 preserved because of its historical associations, most 
 of which centre around the saint. Her portrait by 
 Vanni is seen on the wall. In the chapel of San 
 [308] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Domenico, dedicated especially to her, her head is 
 preserved in a shrine, and shown to the pubhc each 
 year on the occasion of her annual festival, the thirtieth 
 of April. 
 
 The frescoes by Sodoma in this chapel are admi- 
 rable, and represent Saint Catherine in ecstasy when 
 an angel is bringing her the host. In one of these 
 ecstasies she is supposed to have received the stig- 
 mata, which, however much she suffered from it during 
 life, was never visible until after death. With all the 
 saint's asceticisms, which were necessary and a natural 
 consequence of the feeling of the times, she displayed 
 throughout her whole life a tact and common sense 
 for the practical good of her fellow-men that throws 
 her character into bold relief, not only in the history 
 of the Middle Ages, but among women in the history 
 of the world. 
 
 It was only a short walk from the church of San 
 Domenico down the hill to the Fontebranda, the cele- 
 brated fountain which, though mentioned as early as 
 1081, was renovated in the next century, and is covered 
 with the inevitable three arches of Italy in a sort of 
 Gothic colonnade. Here the little children come to play, 
 the cattle to drink, and the women to do their washing, 
 just as in the days when Catherine Benincasa, leaving 
 her father's tannery, romped with the other children at 
 this very fountain. Up the steep street leading from 
 the fountain, that is to-day, as then, occupied by the 
 houses of dyers, tanners, and fullers, we come, on the 
 left-hand side, to the house in which Catherine was 
 born, as the twenty-fourth of twenty-five children. 
 The different rooms in the little house have been con- 
 [309] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 verted into small chapels or oratories, which belong 
 now to the Confraternita di Santa Caterina. The 
 dyers' shops were originally on the ground floor, and 
 the saint's room is fitted up as a little chapel at the 
 head of the second flight of stairs, and retains all of 
 the severe character it must have had when inhab- 
 ited by her. The stones which served as her pillow, 
 and the pieces of various garments she wore, may still 
 be seen close to her iron-barred window which opened 
 on the street. Interesting and unique is the singular 
 division of Siena into what we would call wards, which 
 here go by the name of contrade. Each contrada has 
 its ensign, and at the time of the city's annual festi- 
 val in August, called the palio, these banners are borne 
 by the men of each ward. Some of them are ennobled, 
 others are not, but there is a good deal of lively rivalry 
 among them, and in Siena you are never allowed to 
 forget the fact that the family of Benincasa, which 
 gave to the world the saint, belonged to the noble 
 Contrada dell' Oca (of the goose). 
 
 From the house of Saint Catherine we made our 
 way up through the Piazza Indipendenza to the cathe- 
 dral which is supposed to have been built on the 
 site of an ancient temple of Minerva. Siena has 
 always been faithful in its devotion to the worship of 
 the Virgin; and the cathedral, which is dedicated to 
 Our Lady, is intended to be commensurate with the 
 wealth and importance of the commune, which, under 
 the guidance of the twenty-four, in the second quar- 
 ter of the thirteenth century, determined to erect a 
 suitable place of worship for their Blessed Lady. 
 Even at the present day, at the time of the great fes- 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 tival of the palio, the procession solemnly goes to the 
 cathedral, and pays its respects to the Blessed Lady of 
 the city before entering on the festivities of the day. 
 At first the interior gives rather an unpleasant impres- 
 sion, with its wide nave and long aisles extending to 
 the choir. Its line of pillars faced with black and 
 white marble like the rest of the church are somewhat 
 startling in their hardness of line. The pulpit is a 
 beautiful white marble octagonal structure, borne by 
 nine granite columns, some of which rest on lions, 
 and its beautiful reliefs by Niccolo Pisano make a 
 visit here well worth while, if but to see these alone; 
 besides there are many beautiful statues, several 
 valuable paintings, and of course, the library of 
 the cathedral, which formerly was called the Sala 
 Piccolominea, is of the finest and best preserved 
 structures of the early Renaissance period. It was 
 built by Cardinal Francesco Piccolomini as a superb 
 memorial to his uncle, ^neas Silvius, better known 
 in history as Pope Pius II. The devoted nephew 
 afterward became Pope Pius III. The exterior of the 
 entrance wall is adorned with marble sculptures. Over 
 the door is a fresco by Pinturicchio representing the 
 coronation of Pius III, v/hose papacy lasted but little 
 more than ten days. The interior of this library, 
 with its splendid missals resting upon carved stands of 
 ancient time, its wonderful mural paintings, the work of 
 Pinturicchio and his pupils, with the assistance possibly 
 of Raphael, and its frescoed vaulting, is justly famous 
 and certainly most beautiful. 
 
 As we are going to Pienza to stay with the Silvio 
 Piccolomini of the present twentieth century, it was 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 very interesting for me to renew my memories of one 
 of the world's greatest humanists, iEneas Silvius 
 Piccolomini. The paintings in this library represent 
 the main events of this extraordinary man's life: his 
 departure for the council of Basle; his presence as 
 Legate of the Council at the court of James I of Scot- 
 land; his coronation as a poet by Emperor Frederick III 
 at Frankfort in 1445; as Ambassador his presentation 
 of the homage of his emperor to Pope Eugenius IV; 
 his conducting of Eleonora of Portugal outside the 
 walls of Siena to her future lord and husband, Emperor 
 Frederick III; his receiving the red hat of cardinal from 
 Pope Calixtus III; his election as Pope Pius II; his 
 calling together at Mantua of the first actual congress 
 of powers assembled for a common purpose, this purpose 
 being the keen wish of Pius for the Crusade to the 
 Turkish war, and the reconquering of Constantinople; 
 his canonization of Catherine Benincasa, and finally 
 his death at Ancona while preaching a crusade against 
 the Turks. 
 
 iEneas Silvius Piccolomini belonged to the nobles 
 of Siena, who at the time of Pius' accession to the 
 papacy had been excluded from the seigniory of the 
 city for almost two hundred years. Like many other 
 nobles, the Salimbeni, Tolomei, etc., they had betaken 
 themselves to the country towns on the hills round 
 about. Silvio was born at the little town of Cor- 
 signano, where his parents dwelt in poverty. His 
 mother was Vittoria Forteguerra, of the distinguished 
 family of that name of the city of Siena. 
 
 He was the most cultivated of popes and an orna- 
 ment to the papacy. His intellectual temperament, 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the like of which had never been seen before on the 
 papal throne, belongs entirely to his century, and his 
 commentaries leave perhaps the best picture of the 
 age in which he lived. He was devoted to his birth- 
 place, and built his great palace at Pienza, where we 
 are goijig, hoping to aggrandize the little town then 
 called Corsignano. He did much too for Siena, which 
 he often visited and befriended. 
 
 We came back by way of the graceful loggia that he 
 had built in the city during one of his stays in Siena. 
 This afternoon we went to the Palazzo Pubblico, and 
 Cesnola has been telling me about the palio. I am very 
 sorry that we could not have arranged to be here with 
 the Sergardis in August, and I mean to come some other 
 year, for it must be one of the most interesting living 
 pictures of a past age one can see at the present day. 
 
 We have seen superficially the Academia delle 
 Belle Arte; that is, we have been for a short while sev- 
 eral times, and I already know some of the pictures 
 pretty well, but of course we mean to come back here 
 to do many things more thoroughly, and to-morrow 
 we go to Montepulciano. 
 
 T. 
 
 Siena, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 It was decided that we should meet the Sergardis 
 at the Marchesa Bracci's in Montepulciano, and we 
 greatly enjoyed the run south from Siena to this pic- 
 turesque town, situated on the top of a high mountain. 
 It may well be termed "the apple of discord," for Siena 
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ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 and Florence fought, bled and suffered so often and 
 so much for its possession and control. Montepul- 
 ciano had all the fire' and independence of the rest of 
 her countrymen, and like true Tuscans made every 
 effort and used every opportunity to secure its 
 freedom. 
 
 It is a wonderfully beautiful and fertile country, 
 and from the balconies of the Marchesa Bracci's house, 
 that is situated on one of the steepest streets the auto- 
 mobile has ever had to climb, we could look over the 
 lakes of Montepulciano and Chiusi to the larger lake 
 of Trasimeno beyond in Umbria. Again, to-day, we 
 had the most cordial of welcomes, and the jolliest of 
 teas from the brother of Baroness Sergardi and his 
 wife. After having some of the famous wine of Monte- 
 pulciano, which is justly celebrated, and many of the 
 sweet cakes which the Italians know so well how to 
 serve, Cesnola made for the piano, and played vigor- 
 ously for a half-hour or more one of his new composi- 
 tions, while the rest of us cleared the room for dancing. 
 Later we were offered a glass of the famous white ver- 
 muth that is made here, and flavored with herbs of 
 some sort, I should think. After the impromptu dance, 
 Count Vinci, a neighbor of the Braccis, who has married 
 a wife from Ireland, picked up his violin and played 
 most beautifully a Mozart sonata, when, amidst all 
 our gayeties, who should arrive but Countess Annina 
 Piccolomini, who had come over to pay a visit to the 
 Braccis, greet us, and insist on our coming to her next 
 day. 
 
 We returned home through Pienza, taking the 
 Countess with us, and our big headlights made even 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the steep descent quite simple, though it was very dark 
 when we reached home. 
 
 It is a very odd sensation to feel so perfectly at 
 home among these dear- people, who are so charming 
 and so natural that it is difficult to realize that their 
 home and everyday life is inseparably connected with 
 these strange, picturesque mountain towns, and the 
 almost grewsome mediaeval history surrounding them. 
 
 At the head of the very steep street on which was 
 the house of our friends there is an interesting square, 
 from which we had an admirable view of the surround- 
 ing country, but not nearly as beautiful as that from 
 the balcony of the Countess Bracci, whose house is 
 so high that one overlooks many of the roofs of the 
 houses of the town beneath it. One has the sensation 
 of being on a mountain-top, and it is rather surprising 
 to come out the front door on to the street, lined with 
 houses and paved with broad flat stones, which mounts 
 even higher. There is a curious, stern mediaevalism 
 about this town as well as Siena, and I think the 
 winters must be frightfully severe. It is very late. 
 Good-night. Greetings to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 [315] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 PiENZA, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 THIS morning we took another look at the 
 pictures, another stroll through the town 
 along the Lizza, and directly after lunch 
 started out for Pienza, where we are to- 
 night. .We had hardly entered the town before Count 
 Silvio Piccolomini greeted us, and got into the car to 
 take us to the door of the great papal palace, now his 
 patrimony, and the car had scarcely stopped, before 
 Countess Annina came out to greet us, accompanied 
 by numbers of the ever-amiable Italian servants, 
 who made light of our bags, trunks, and bundles. 
 
 I had heard Annina give the order to "put them in 
 the Pope's room," but I did not realize that I was really 
 to occupy the room and to sleep in the bed that was 
 actually used by the great Pope Pius II, of whom I 
 have recently written you. At this present moment 
 I am writing you from a table used by Piccolomini and, 
 on the wall is framed one of the silver-and-gold-em- 
 broidered church vestments of the Pope. To-morrow 
 we are to make a complete tour of this wonderful old 
 palace, when I hope to take many photographs. 
 
 Pienza is situated in the chalky districts of Tus- 
 cany, where the land is not very fertile, and it has 
 taken a great deal of ingenuity and planning to supply 
 ** modern comfort" for Annina and her friends. The 
 palace is too far from the lakes to make it possible to 
 use the water, but a system of tanks is arranged on 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the roofs, so that every drop from the skies is caught 
 and held fast, thus making bathrooms and dressing- 
 rooms possible. As I open my window, where the" 
 glass shuts back on to a wall as thick as the width of 
 the large pane; as I look over the vast, gray country 
 of this chalky district, and then turn toward the fine 
 old bedstead, and study the features of the great 
 Piccolomini pictured in the fresco above the door, I 
 feel transported to mediaeval days indeed; but when 
 I turn a door handle and find myself in a complete 
 toilet room with bath and basin in approved mounting, 
 it makes a startling impression. The excellent spring 
 water of Italy, which is bottled and sold everywhere 
 ("Fiuggi"), makes the drinking water question simple 
 enough; but without automobiles I fancy the supply 
 of the larder would not be so easy, though where one 
 has strong and willing servants, all difliculties seem to 
 pale away. Certainly our dinner this evening was of 
 the best, and I tried a photograph of the old fifteenth 
 century mantel in the dining-room this afternoon 
 before tea. 
 
 I am sorry to have missed seeing Countess Annina's 
 two sisters, Madame Giorgi and the Baroness Blanc. 
 These three beautiful women are called the "Three 
 Graces" in Rome, and they all have charm as well as 
 beauty. The Baroness Blanc has a villa at Aix-les- 
 Bains, but she and Madame Giorgi, although they 
 have been some weeks here, have now gone to Paris, 
 and I shall only see them again this winter in Rome. 
 
 After dinner it was rather too cold to sit in the 
 large halls of the palace, so we all retired to Annina's 
 smaller sitting-room, where a stove of generous pro- 
 [317] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 portions kept us as snug as the proverbial bug. While 
 we chatted and talked of our friends, I showed Annina 
 many of my photographs, and told her of my plans, in 
 which she takes a most charming and kindly interest. 
 All the evening her fingers were busy with the crochet 
 needle, and she told me that she is hoping to finish 
 some fifty little worsted capes for the poor children's 
 Christmas tree, held here annually. We were very 
 sorry to miss the company of the Count, but a village 
 tragedy, some love affair that had brought about a 
 meeting with knives with serious result, necessitated 
 his presence in the town. Of course he owns the whole 
 place, and while in a mild way, compared to former 
 days, a Silvio Piccolomini is as much a lord of Pienza 
 as ever he was in 1460. 
 
 It is rather late and the oil in my lamp is getting 
 low, so good-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 Pienza, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This is one of the most interesting places to which we 
 have yet been, in its mediaeval atmosphere. Countess 
 Annina has torn down all the unsightly partitions in 
 the palace, that had been put in during successive 
 ages, and restored the interior to its former design. 
 The armory is certainly a magnificent great hall, and 
 she has arranged about it the interesting and valuable 
 armor, found piled up in one of the upper rooms. A 
 great screen of wrought iron of remarkable beauty 
 stands before the immense fireplace, and from a door 
 [318I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 at each end one steps on to a charming loggia which 
 commands a fine view of the plain. 
 
 It is rather too late for the flowers, which do not 
 grow as easily here as elsewhere, but the table decora- 
 tion to-night reminded me of Scotch heather. Next 
 year Countess Annina is thinking of transforming what 
 is now a large tennis court on her terrace into a formal 
 garden, for the Italian gardener can make flowers 
 bloom, if only planted in stone, I believe. The little 
 theatre in this palace is the prettiest of all the private 
 theatres I have seen, and from the balcony I have 
 taken numerous photographs this morning. Above 
 the stage, and of course in many places in the building, 
 are the five crescents of the Piccolomini arms; indeed 
 it makes historical reckoning much simpler throughout 
 Italy, if one knows the arms of the great families. As 
 surely as one sees the cut rose with the eel, one knows 
 that the Orsini have passed that way; where is seen 
 the viper, there have the Visconti surely been before; 
 but the five crescents of the Piccolomini are not to be 
 confused with the three of their neighbor, the Tolomei 
 of Siena; nor is the dragon of the Borghese to be con- 
 founded with the Boncampagni dragon, for each great 
 house of nobility, or power, which stood for the same 
 thing in those days, had its own device as a banner, 
 followed by the men attached to the household, or 
 the mercenaries who fought for them. D'Annunzio, 
 fastidious and ever-critical, used to the beauties of his 
 own country, was profoundly impressed, as I am not 
 surprised to learn, with the fascination and charm of 
 this old palace, and is purposing to come here and 
 write the history or story of Pius II. He should find 
 1319] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the subject, place, and its hostess a most unusual and 
 charming inspiration. 
 
 Countess Annina very kindly urged us to stay, but 
 we felt we must go on. All excuses for a short 
 letter. 
 
 T. 
 
 [320] 
 
then by Mrs. Batcheller 
 
 THEATRE IN PALAZZO PICCOLOMINI 
 PIENZA, TUSCANY 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Perugia, Umbria, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 OUR journey from Pienza to Orvieto where 
 we stopped to see the beautiful cathedral, 
 was as if we had stepped out of Italy, for 
 most of the way lay through the volcanic 
 district, which is said to be scarcely inferior to that 
 of Mount Etna in size, and covers some eight hundred 
 square miles of country about here. The surface is 
 like the erupted tufa, and enormous streams of lava 
 must have flowed over this country. For a short dis- 
 tance the road skirted the Lake of Bolsena, but the 
 lake, which was once considered a crater, is more 
 probably the result of the sinking of the earth's sur- 
 face. Dante speaks of this lake in the Purgatorio. 
 
 I had thought I would not write you of our present 
 disaster, but "c'est plus fort que moi," for I am really 
 distressed this evening. After seeing the cathedral, 
 and buying numerous photographs of the wonderful 
 frescoes in Orvieto, and after a most comfortable tea, 
 we decided, I suppose rather foolishly, to make a 
 moonlight trip over the mountains to Perugia. 
 
 Just how it ever happened we shall probably never 
 know, but our bag, containing my notes for my pro- 
 spective book, F. B.'s pearl studs, my purse, and 
 numerous things that we use and need every day, was 
 put on the front seat. Vincenzo is always most care- 
 ful, but after we had climbed the mountains, we mis- 
 took the road leading up to the town of Todi for the 
 [321] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 main highway, and Vincenzo was in and out several 
 times Hghting matches to look at signboards, inquir- 
 ing at peasant houses, while Cesnola, who sat on the 
 seat with him, jumped in and out several times as well. 
 Anyhow our bag is gone ! Now you know the worst. 
 
 The proprietor at the hotel assures me that we shall 
 find it again, and cites an instance of a gentleman from 
 Rome, who motored here a short time ago, and lost 
 on the way a purse containing two thousand lire. 
 The purse was returned by an honest peasant some 
 two weeks after, so he says, and he thinks we shall be 
 equally fortunate with the bag. I must say I am not 
 so Utopian in my hopes, and words cannot express 
 my annoyance at losing not only my notes, but some 
 precious films, which contain, I hope, good pictures 
 of the Piccolomini palace. I have determined to send 
 Vincenzo back over the road to-morrow morning; then 
 Cesnola advises us to go to the captain of the cara- 
 binieri, and the hotel proprietor says he will put an 
 advertisement, offering a suitable reward — he thinks 
 twenty dollars a great deal too much — in the local 
 papers. You may rest assured I shall do all in my 
 power to get back my lost treasure. If they would 
 only let me have my notebook and my films, I should 
 not mind so much, but of course you cannot say that 
 in the daily paper, although I have said that a black 
 notebook was among the things in the bag for which 
 a special reward would be given if returned. I sup- 
 pose there is no particular use in lamenting over spilt 
 milk, and I shall try to get the full enjoyment out of 
 Perugino and his works of art; any way I am 
 determined not to worry my friends here with the 
 [322] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 result of my own carelessness. This is a charming 
 hotel, and if I had my bag I should be very happy. 
 
 T. 
 
 Perugia, Umbria, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Our first visit this morning was to the unromantic 
 police station. The Captain of the Carabinieri, a tall 
 and finely built man who was most affable and seem- 
 ingly interested to help us in every way to get back 
 the lost bag, expressed the belief that it would in time 
 be brought to the "Lost and Found" ofl[ice of either 
 Orvieto, Perugia, or Todi, which is the town half-way 
 between here and Orvieto. He strongly advised our 
 limiting the reward in the advertisement to a hundred 
 lire, and after taking our address in Florence and 
 Bologna, as well as our banker's address, bowed us 
 out with that dignity that is common to all this 
 picked body of Italy's national guard. 
 
 Although Vincenzo returned from his quest empty- 
 handed to-night, he did something that gives me a ray 
 of hope, and which would never have occurred to any- 
 body but an Italian. Instead of going straight back 
 to Orvieto, he stopped at Todi, went up into the old 
 town, took his luncheon at a "trattoria," talked with 
 the peasants, elaborated on the story, made a call on 
 the village priest, and begged him to preach a sermon 
 on Sunday on the necessity of returning the bag. As 
 this is the country of St. Francis of Assisi perhaps the 
 goodness of that holy man will permeate down through 
 the centuries, so that my bag may be returned, though 
 I doubt it. 
 
 [323] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Perugia is such a delightful place, with its great 
 papal palace, the wonderful Collegio del Cambio with 
 those never-to-be-forgotten frescoes by Perugino; and 
 the view of Assisi is so lovely from our hotel which 
 overlooks the long, straight plain between Perugia 
 and its ancient rival, that at least during the day I 
 have not worried over my loss. Perugino's portrait of 
 himself on the wall facing the entrance to the famous 
 audience room (Sala delle Udienze) is to me one of 
 his finest works, and shows the strength of charac- 
 ter in his face that one feels in the stroke of his brush 
 in his works of art. I rather prefer to give him 
 his individual name of Vanucci, although I know in 
 the old days the towns took to themselves the fame of 
 any important citizen by giving him its name; but I 
 think, generally among artists, the individual family 
 name of the painter is more often used now. 
 
 It seems so extraordinary that these individual 
 towns like Siena, Perugia, Florence, Assisi, etc., should 
 have so ruthlessly sacrificed so much of their accumu- 
 lated wealth, the lives of so many of their best citizens, 
 and given up their own progress and welfare in so many 
 useless quarrels with one another. The history of all 
 these Italian towns is so much alike! It seems hardly 
 credible at the present time that they considered them- 
 selves, and in fact were, independent nations, treating 
 with powers like the Emperor and the Papacy on equal 
 terms; indeed, sometimes they repulsed the army of 
 the Emperor, as in Siena; yet their gain and their 
 advantages by whatever conquests they may have had, 
 were soon lost in the almost daily squabbling among 
 themselves. It is surprising, too, that in the midst 
 [324] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of all this bloodshed and unrest the artists flourished, 
 and have left of that unsettled, ever-changing, warlike 
 period such, monuments as we find here in Perugia, 
 and indeed all through Italy. It would seem to show 
 that these bloody tyrants, in their pursuance of war 
 and gain, desired not only the power that their con- 
 quests brought them, but the possession of the art trea- 
 sures they almost invariably seized in the palaces of the 
 conquered men of their own class. In our own Western 
 world, the moment the battle of livelihood is once won, 
 our rich men and women make every effort to gather 
 together art treasures from all parts of the world. The 
 present battle is in Wall Street or in Chicago's "Rook- 
 ery," but the conqueror takes the loot, and the ruined 
 man exchanges his Diaz or Rembrandt for the victor's 
 dollars just as in olden days. 
 
 I made a curious discovery this morning in the 
 great Sala dei Notari in the Municipio. This is an 
 enormous room, the end of which is decorated with 
 frescoes representing the coats-of-arms of the various 
 Podesta of Perugia. With the advent of the thirteenth 
 century almost all the Italian cities replaced their 
 consuls, whose number had varied from three to six 
 (a plural executive force having proved rather in- 
 decisive and insufficient in times of great need) with a 
 single ruler called Podesta. The states looked with 
 distrust upon any one ruler chosen from amongst their 
 own nobles, fearing lest he should use his position for the 
 material advancement of himself and family to a point 
 where he felt his power to be sufficient to seize complete 
 control of the town, thus making himself its tyrant. To 
 prevent any such action it became the custom to choose 
 [325] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 a Podesta from some neighboring town, on the supposi- 
 tion that he would have httle knowledge of the various 
 factions of the city over which he was called to rule, and 
 would presumably maintain a neutral position with the 
 inhabitants. The term of office usually lasted one year, 
 and the Podesta was generously remunerated and hand- 
 somely housed during his governing period. 
 
 I have written you of Prince Hercolani and his 
 friend Count Malvezzi de' Medici, and you know it was 
 through Count Aldrovandi, their great friend and mine, 
 that we met. These young fellows have been the best of 
 friends since childhood, and here in the Sala dei Notari 
 in Perugia I find the arms of the three families, Hercolani, 
 Malvezzi, and Aldrovandi, as having been, in 1483-5-8, 
 Podestas of the city. It seems a rather interesting and 
 striking instance of long family connection and friend- 
 ship, and I was fortunate in being able to get a photo- 
 graph showing these three coats-of-arms, which I am 
 sending back to Bologna to Countess Aldrovandi. 
 
 This afternoon we are going to have tea with the 
 Countess Bracceschi, and there are many things about 
 Perugia that recall her ancestor, that shrewd and cour- 
 ageous condottiere, Braccio of Montone, called Forte- 
 braccio (the strong arm). 
 
 The family of the Countess has for many years 
 owned much of the land in and about Perugia, and the 
 particular villa that the Countess is refitting for her 
 own use is situated in the valley below the hill of 
 Perugia, not far from the village of Castel del Piano. 
 The villa is rather smaller than many that have be- 
 longed to the Bracceschi estates, but the Countess 
 has given the more elaborate and larger country houses 
 [326] 
 

 
 M bo 
 
 o 
 
 < -^ 
 
 J CO 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of the family to her daughters as they have married. 
 One of them married a relative of the Princess Giova- 
 nelli, one of the Serego Alighieri; another daughter, that 
 I wrote you about from Noventa, is Countess Papafava. 
 Few women of Countess Bracceschi's age, I think, 
 would have been so generous or have felt equal to the 
 refitting, furnishing, and general repairing of one of 
 these old seventeenth century villas in the country, 
 for of course all the plumbing materials and all the 
 necessaries, which the Italians express with our English 
 term "modern comfort," must be brought from the 
 nearest large centre, which is Rome; but although the 
 Countess is past sixty, with white hair, her figure is 
 lithe, her eyes are still bright, and she reminds me of 
 you in her boundless energy, constant activity, and 
 youthful enthusiasms. Perhaps the famous condot- 
 tiere in his fortitude and strength was not unlike your 
 Highland-Scotch Duncan soldiers. Like nearly all 
 people born to a high position, she is perfectly simple 
 and charming in her manner, and thinking that some 
 prints she was in the process of sorting, in a long hall at 
 the top of the villa, might interest me, she made light of 
 all the confusion of many of the rooms, took us through 
 numerous apartments strewn with the wonderful white 
 grapes of her vineyards, and along many narrow corri- 
 dors until we came to the place of her immediate interest 
 and work. I thought of Mr. Abbott and his wonderful 
 paper doll, and how much he would have enjoyed look- 
 ing over with us these rare colored prints which were 
 collected during a period of years when her ancestor 
 was ambassador to France. 
 
 I could not understand why so many of the rooms 
 [327] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 were strewn with these luscious-looking white grapes, 
 but to my inquiries the Countess replied that if the 
 grapes are somewhat dried in this fashion before being 
 pressed into wine casks, the quality of the wine is made 
 much finer; I was quite willing to believe her when, 
 later on, she gave us some of the golden nectar of her 
 vineyard. 
 
 We had at the hotel, at Cesnola's suggestion, a 
 little of this famous wine that is known to the outsider 
 as "Orvieto Scelto," but nothing one can buy compares 
 with the skilfully prepared wines of these private, 
 carefully tended vineyards. The Countess seemed 
 greatly pleased that I appreciated the Bracceschi 
 vintage, and has promised to send me a case of it to 
 America this autumn, when these very grapes I have 
 seen to-day are crushed into the golden liquid. 
 
 Although it was quite late, I took numerous photo- 
 graphs of the living rooms, which have been completed 
 in their restoration and repairs, and the old gobelins 
 that seem to lie rolled in every attic of Italy were 
 indeed beautiful in their present arrangement. The 
 Russian daughter-in-law of the Countess, born a 
 Princess Dolgorouki, took tea with us, and afterward 
 we went to the second villa of the Bracceschi family, 
 only to find that through a misunderstanding of the 
 time of our arrival, the whole party had ridden across 
 country on a short hunting expedition. As it was only 
 a little further, we went on to the charming villa of the 
 Marchesa Marini, a friend of our hostess and a member 
 of one of Perugia's old families. 
 
 There was a pretty arrangement at this Marini 
 villa of descending fountains, and the view from the 
 [328] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 slight elevation on which the villa is situated was par- 
 ticularly lovely this evening over the Umbrian plain. 
 The famous ancestor of our hostess of to-day, 
 Fortebraccio, is to me one of the most interesting and 
 certainly the most daring of the mediaeval condottieri. 
 A captain of condottieri under Pope John XXIII, his 
 only rival to the name of the foremost warrior of the 
 age was Sforza. He was a Count of Montone who 
 held his ancestral fortress near Perugia, and so fre- 
 quently harassed and attacked his native city that he 
 was banished completely from the town. When, in 
 consequence of the deposition of John XXIII, Bologna 
 declared itself again a free republic, Braccio, who was 
 thereabout with his soldiers under papal pay, con- 
 cluded a treaty with the city and retired, and after- 
 ward renewed his attempt to seize Perugia, where he 
 made his victorious entry on July 19, 1416, and usurped 
 the seigniory. Orvieto, Todi, and Rieti also accepted 
 him, perforce, as ruler. He compels our admiration 
 by his audacity, his manly character, and unremitting 
 energy. After having made himself ruler of so much, 
 it no longer seemed impossible to aspire to Rome, and 
 after having subjugated all of Umbria and a part of 
 the Sabina, he actually forced the Romans to receive 
 him, and what is more, to do so with honor. The 
 audacious condottiere made his entrance into the capi- 
 tal of the world with the Romans swinging palms and 
 calling, "Long live Braccio," thus acknowledging him 
 their lord. He made his abode in the Santa Maria on 
 the Aventine, and the cardinal legate fled to the Nea- 
 politan garrison in Sant' Angelo. Braccio assumed the 
 title of "Defensor Urbis," but his reign was a short one, 
 [329] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 lasting but seventy days. He dared not attempt to 
 withstand the attack of his enemy, Sforza, who had 
 been sent thither by Joanna, Queen of Naples. He 
 retired in August, 141 7, to his own Umbria, for he was 
 still the tyrant of Spoleto and a part of Tuscany as 
 well. 
 
 In reading of the victories of these various tyrants, 
 one is perforce made to realize that they were due as 
 much to craftiness as to military skill; when Petrucci*s 
 secretary, Antonio da Venafro, was asked by the Borgia 
 Pope how his master kept the turbulent Sienese under 
 control he replied without hesitation, "Con le bugie, 
 Santo Padre" (By lies, Holy Father). 
 
 We received a telegram this afternoon from Mar- 
 chese Giorgio Guglielmi urging us to surely stop over 
 at his castle for a few days on our way back to Florence. 
 The invitation came at exactly the right moment, and 
 is very much like the sender, who generally seems to 
 do about the right thing in the right place on all occa- 
 sions. If he is as good a host as he is a leader of cotil- 
 lions, our visit will be a very merry one. I had scarcely 
 sent our acceptance by wire to Guglielmi, when the 
 Marchesa Monaldi who was so charming to me in 
 Rome, as you will remember, motored over with her 
 husband to beg us to come to her for a few days. I 
 have wanted to lengthen the autumn by a few weeks, 
 but I think I should have to lengthen it by many 
 months if I were really able to enjoy all the good times 
 that my kind friends are planning for me. We shall, 
 however, see the Monaldis again, for they are lunching 
 at the Guglielmi castle the day we expect to arrive 
 there. 
 
 [330] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 We have had no news whatever of my poor bag, 
 and I very much fear it is gone for good. Whatever 
 shall I do for my notes and films! I cannot be harsh 
 enough with myself for such carelessness as to have 
 allowed the bag to be put on the outside of the car. 
 But hard-luck stories are never interesting, so good- 
 night for this time. 
 
 T. 
 
 Perugia, Umbria, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 Before we start out this afternoon I will send you a 
 few lines about our visit this morning to the paintings 
 of Perugino. Of course I can speak only of a few, but 
 I really believe, of all the pictures in the world, I prefer 
 the wonderful Madonna of Perugino that I have seen 
 this morning. As one walks before the picture, not 
 only the mild, devout eyes of the Virgin, but the whole 
 head seems to turn and follow you. There is an ex- 
 quisite beauty about the picture that greatly appeals 
 to me. 
 
 We took a walk about the town this morning, and 
 in one of the main streets had a good view of a real 
 Italian market day. The entire street was given up to 
 small booths, and everything from pigs and chickens, 
 down to sewing silk and calico, was to be had here for 
 a few lire. The carts arrive very early in the morning, 
 and Cesnola says that by eight o'clock all the booths 
 are set and the bargaining well under way. A favorite 
 purchase seemed to be large bright green umbrellas, 
 and I got the proprietor of that particular booth quite 
 [331] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 interested in a conversation as to the various merits 
 of his wares. It was in this very square, from the 
 wrought-iron balcony of one of the great palaces, that 
 Fortebraccio proclaimed his seigniory over Perugia. 
 
 We went by the large palace in the centre of the 
 town where Leo X as Archbishop of Perugia lived for 
 many years; in fact, Perugia was so much and so long 
 under papal rule that there are churches everywhere — 
 so numerous that some of them are kept closed. At 
 one time it had fifty convents, most of which have now 
 been suppressed. It was here too in Perugia that 
 the religious fanatics, called Flagellants, first made 
 their appearance about 1260. Chroniclers of the 
 time give the most gruesome account of the frenzy 
 of repentance which seemed a sort of moral tempest 
 that spread from city to city, and so worn out were 
 the people with the never-ending discord and strife 
 between Church and empire, that the mountains and 
 valleys re-echoed with the touching cry, "Peace, 
 peace! Lord, give us peace!" Even children of five 
 years scourged themselves. Aged hermits, monks and 
 priests, walked the streets inflicting self-torture and 
 calling aloud. They formed processions and walked 
 barefooted through the frosts of winter, carrying 
 tapers at night. The enthusiasm spread from little 
 bands to hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, 
 and even historians of the time speak of this strange 
 occurrence with amazement. When these bands of 
 pilgrims approached a town they rushed upon it like 
 a terrible storm, and the infection of the Flagellant 
 Brotherhood finally reached Rome. In some ways 
 Perugia seems more of a papal city, more a place 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of religious fanaticism, than Rome itself, and surely 
 the appearance of these Flagellants was one of the most 
 striking phenomena of the Middle Ages. It was in 
 this dark form of penance, this popular expression of 
 a universal misery, that the struggle between Church 
 and empire saw the beginning of the end, and out of 
 this reawakening of moral consciousness came Dante. 
 To-morrow we are going to Assisi, of which we have 
 a beautiful view from my window, which looks out 
 over the broad Umbrian plain. We have determined 
 to make an early start, and of course we can only 
 review the treasures hastily. Good-bye for this time. 
 More anon. 
 
 T. 
 
 Perugia, Umbria, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 We had no difficulty in getting off very early, as 
 to-day is a festal church day in Perugia, and by half 
 past four in the morning every bell in every one of 
 the numerous churches was pealing forth all the noise 
 it could possibly make. We have been awakened 
 sufficiently early every morning, as we thought, by 
 two or three sonorous bells of a church near by, but 
 the din this morning left no comparison with ordi- 
 nary days. If the religion of the inhabitants is 
 measured by the noise they make on festal occasions, 
 they certainly should be very good, and in conse- 
 quence I may get my bag. It seemed as if the ghost 
 of Clement IV had come back to Perugia, and deter- 
 mined to revive the festival which he celebrated here 
 [333] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 in 1266, at the time of the Anjou conquest of Sicily. 
 Poor Guido Le Gros Fulcodi de St. Gilles! When he 
 so rejoiced at the French conquest in Sicily, he could 
 hardly foresee that comparatively only a few years 
 later the French Ambassador would insult his succes- 
 sor (Boniface VIII), the great Chair of St. Peter be 
 removed to a French town, and that French Popes, 
 directed by French Kings, would rule the destinies of 
 the Church for seventy years. How few people recall 
 that among the long list of Popes was this Proven9aI, 
 who had been a noted lawyer, a councillor in the cabinet 
 of Louis of France, a married man and father of several 
 children. It was only after the death of his wife that 
 he entered the Carthusian monastery, becoming Bishop 
 of Puy and Archbishop of Narbonne. 
 
 As one motors from one city to another through this 
 country, and realizes more and more the momentous his- 
 torical events that took place practically all along the 
 road, it makes one's memory of church history very 
 vivid, particularly here in Perugia, which was for so 
 long a Guelph centre. All to-day we have been with 
 St. Francis, who seems to me one of the most sincerely 
 devout and beautiful characters of the Middle Ages. 
 Surely this life of genuine devotion to the betterment 
 of the Church and to the uplifting of his fellow-men 
 was given to the world by an All-seeing Providence at 
 a time of crying need. The luxurious and all-powerful 
 Innocent III,^ to whom St. Francis appealed for his 
 
 ^Innocent III, who is often called the true Augustus of the Papacy, the Pope 
 who had reached the loftiest height of power yet attained, the creator and de- 
 stroyer of emperors and kings, also died here at Perugia. His bones were removed 
 to the church of St. Giovanni in Laterano, Rome, in 1892, and form one of the 
 many papal monuments in that church. 
 
 [334] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 right to go about his mission, felt that the holy man 
 could hardly be harmful, and gave little heed as to 
 whether he could be of any service. Innocent was 
 rather quicker to recognize the practical aims of the 
 fiery Spaniard San Dominico than to realize the hidden 
 meaning of the mysticism and poverty of Francis. 
 
 It is only a short run across the Umbrian plain on a 
 road which lies almost in a straight line from here to 
 the church ot Santa Maria degli Angeli. The great 
 church, built around and over the original little oratory 
 of St. Francis, was begun by Vignola in 1569, but not 
 finished until 1640, and the nave and choir had to be 
 reconstructed after the earthquake in 1832. This little 
 oratory is the famous Portiuncula, of which there is a 
 fresco here in the church, and behind it is the cell 
 where St. Francis died and the beautiful terra cotta 
 statue of the saint by Luca della Robbia. 
 
 It is only a few moments from here to the hill of 
 Assisi, and certainly St. Francis had a most picturesque 
 spot for the founding of his Order. As all the world 
 loves him, all the world knows his story, and the fact 
 that he was a rich merchant's son, gay and reckless 
 in his early youth, only tends to make his conversion 
 and subsequent life of humility, self-sacrifice and 
 devotion the more interesting. I could not but think 
 to-day as we looked at the simple little oratory where 
 we were shown the stone upon which St. Francis slept, 
 and the rope with which he took his self-inflicted pen- 
 ance, how tragic it would have been for him to see his 
 mystic idea of poverty so completely distorted in the 
 minds of his followers, and his commands to them not 
 only ignored, but almost immediately disobeyed after 
 [335] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 his death. SimpHcity was his main thought, and 
 before he died he dictated his will, in which he for- 
 bade any elaboration of the rule of the Order or any 
 discourse under pretext of explaining the testament. 
 **As it is clear and simple," he says, *' understand it 
 as such without commentary, and put it in practice to 
 the end." Yet Gregory IX, who as Cardinal Hugolino 
 was his most zealous defender, did not wait four years 
 before he published an elaborate interpretation of the 
 document. The fact of the matter is, few people can 
 understand the full beauty and value of simplicity. A 
 mingled complication of ideas appeals much more to 
 the average human nature. 
 
 This whole country abounds with legends of St. 
 Francis. The peasants by the road will tell you one 
 story after another of their beloved saint, who was 
 sympathetic with all who suffered. He loved the ani- 
 mals, and all the world knows his story of the wolf; 
 he fed the birds, and when he came to die flocks of larks 
 encircled the Portiuncula; in dying he even called 
 Death his sister. There is something sublime in his 
 breadth of understanding and in his extreme devotion 
 to humankind. Perhaps in another age he might have 
 been the founder of a new religion. 
 
 I am bringing home to you a little booklet that they 
 gave me at the famous garden of roses, near the sacristy, 
 where the customary thorns are supposed to have left 
 the flowers at the approach of St. Francis. I went 
 to Assisi with as much the preconceived idea of seeing 
 the Giotto frescoes as of learning more of St. Fran- 
 cis, but I came away with my admiration for the 
 mystical paintings entirely secondary to my revived 
 [336] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 enthusiasm for this wonderful and altogether lovable 
 saint of the Middle Ages. The happiest years of St. 
 Francis' life were when he was living with a few fol- 
 lowers near the little chapel of Portiuncula (the little 
 portion), which the Benedictine abbot had given him. 
 
 But later these Franciscan friars influenced every 
 stratum of society. As early as 1219 Francis could 
 count five thousand followers under his banner, and the 
 establishment of convents for these mendicant brothers 
 became events of importance. 
 
 In the crypt of this great monastic church is the 
 tomb of St. Francis, and this, like everything about 
 the elaborate building, is interesting and, in many re- 
 spects, beautiful, but its very magnificence seems so 
 absolutely inconsistent with the main idea of the 
 simple soul whose life was a complete contradiction 
 to the surroundings given his earthly body. As for 
 the paintings of Giotto, I know now that I am quite 
 correct in my feelings that Giotto is to be admired 
 and studied as marking an interesting and most im- 
 portant period in the progress of art; that he ex- 
 pressed and represented the strange mysticism of the 
 age in which he lived, but that another age was nec- 
 essary and other times needed for a full expression 
 in art of real beauty. 
 
 There is also a Gothic church here called Santa 
 Chiara, and beneath the high altar are the remains of 
 Santa Clara, the devoted follower of her chosen saint. 
 The charming new little church of Chiesa Nuova is 
 built on the site of the house in which Francis was 
 born; and I wish we might have stayed on here sev- 
 eral days, and taken the various walks all about the 
 [337I 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 place that have to do with the legends and life of the 
 saint. 
 
 We had a most delicious luncheon at the little hotel 
 Leone, which adjoins the now suppressed monastery of 
 St. Francis, and I shall never forget the beautiful view 
 over the plain toward Perugia that we had from the 
 terrace where we took our coffee. 
 
 We go to Lake Trasimeno, to the Guglielmis to- 
 morrow. Much love. More anon. 
 
 T. 
 
 [338] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Castello Guglielmi, Isola Maggiore 
 Lake of Trasimeno, Umbria, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 NO wonder that the ItaHan language has 
 been adequately suppHed with a means 
 for superlative expression, and when I 
 sit down to write you in our cold and 
 Puritan English, and try to tell you of this altogether 
 beautiful place, I must call upon the words of the sweet 
 language of the country to even begin to give you an 
 idea. All is "bellissimo" and "rarissimo." 
 
 If the Italian painters have the most wonderful 
 color on their canvases, it is because they were sur- 
 rounded by those colors at every turn in their own land 
 and in their everyday life. If the Italian language is 
 the most musical of all tongues, it is because the throats 
 of the people found it easy and natural to give utter- 
 ance to their thought in pure, rounded, vocal sounds; 
 and if their throats, which are the expression of human 
 health, were thus musically attuned, the health that 
 gave them their perfect shape and tuneful utterance 
 was but a result of the glorious climate in which these 
 people lived; and as health gives not only normal 
 form to the inward organs, but outward perfection of 
 physical development, it is quite easily understood 
 that the Italians, as a race, have produced so many 
 gifted and beautiful specimens of humanity. 
 
 I am writing from the little bay-window of my large 
 [339] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 room in this great old convent castle. The perfumed 
 breezes of the pines that cover the hill just at the back 
 of the castle come to me through the window on one 
 side, and I have but to turn my head to have the most 
 beautiful view of this lovely lake. 
 
 I have had many examples and charming proofs 
 of Italian hospitality in my journey this fall, but none 
 greater than the extreme courtesy and thoughtfulness 
 of Marchesa Guglielmi and her son. We had promised 
 to come, and even though it was raining hard when we 
 left Perugia early this morning, we made up our minds 
 not to disappoint our friends, as there was no time to 
 reach them by telegraph or telephone. Of course I 
 did not know that the castle was so immense, and 
 that their entertaining was done on so large a scale as 
 to have made the arrival of one guest more or less 
 quite immaterial. When we were about five or six 
 kilometres from Tuoro, where Guglielmi had told me 
 to come, we discovered approaching us a large auto- 
 mobile. We felt sorry for the travellers in the rain 
 with their canvas cover, but our surprise knew no 
 bounds when the automobile signalled us to stop, and 
 out jumped the Marchesa Guglielmi, who had come, 
 clad in a mackintosh, to welcome us. Guglielmi was 
 driving his car, but left it at once to greet us, and took 
 F. B. with him. We were soon at Tuoro, where the 
 Guglielmis have their large garage, and found the little 
 steamer ready at the landing-place to take us to the 
 castle, which is built on the largest of the three 
 islands, that is known as the Isola Maggiore of this 
 Lake of Trasimeno. The others are Isola Minore to 
 the north, and Isola Polvese toward the south-east. 
 [340] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 So often, in visiting, arrivals are difficult; bags, trunks, 
 and bundles are the inevitable nuisances which must 
 accompany the goings and comings; but even though 
 it was pouring, all our bags were quickly deposited in 
 the lower cabin, to which Guglielmi and his mother 
 led us, and where we had complete protection from 
 the storm. Once at the castle, the Marchesa pre- 
 sented us to her guests: the Princess Ruffo Palazzolo 
 and her pretty daughter. Count Moroni, and numer- 
 ous other friends. After insisting on a bit of fine 
 marsala to prevent any possible chill, the Marchesa 
 took us along many corridors and winding stairways 
 to this lovely room. Please remember that we are 
 not near any railway, that we are on an island; yet 
 I have a beautiful bathroom, an electric bell calls a 
 maid who is put entirely at my service, electric lights 
 are conveniently placed by my dressing-table, and the 
 room is generally well lighted. Though I had been 
 once to the room during the day, yesterday before 
 luncheon I had to ring for the maid to guide me 
 down from the wing where we are to the great dining- 
 hall. The Marchese and Marchesa Monaldi and 
 numerous other friends arrived for luncheon, so that 
 the table stretched to the number of thirty, which the 
 Marchesa says is her average number of guests during 
 the autumn season at the castello. 
 
 This afternoon I have seen with much interest the 
 latest productions of the lace school that Guglielmi's 
 sister Elena has started among the peasants on the 
 island, whom she has had taught, and very well taught 
 too, the crocheting of the Irish lace. It has meant a 
 great deal to the poor peasants of this island, who for 
 [341] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 a great number of years have had only their fishing 
 to depend on for a Uvehhood. Indeed, before the 
 draining of the surrounding country, malaria was ram- 
 pant throughout this part of Umbria, and bandits and 
 brigands found convenient hiding-places in the neigh- 
 boring hills, which served the purposes of the great 
 Hannibal so well long years before. This afternoon, 
 in looking over some photographs, Guglielmi showed 
 me the picture of the last of the bandits, who was 
 captured and killed a few years ago in some petty 
 fight of the peasants whom he had tried to molest. 
 
 The lace school at present numbers about twenty, 
 and is constantly increasing. The women earn three 
 or four hundred francs a year, and Elena has fully 
 taught them not only dexterity with their needle, but 
 the principles of domestic economy, for all these girls 
 have their little savings-bank books, and in a few 
 years will have nice little marriage portions to make 
 the first days of housekeeping much easier. The lace 
 is so well made, and the school has been so successful, 
 that they are able to sell their product not only in 
 Rome at the main ofiice of the Industrie Femminili, 
 but in Paris and other parts of Europe. 
 
 Naturally, the acquisition of the castle by the 
 wealthy family of Guglielmi has brought shining pros- 
 perity to the inhabitants of the island, and while they 
 are very grateful to their benefactors, and the women 
 are deeply attached to Elena, they still go more de- 
 voutly than ever to the little shrine at the other side 
 of the island, where St. Francis is supposed to have 
 come; for the legend runs, so Guglielmi tells me, that 
 on a dark and dreary night a monk, wearing a brown 
 [342I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 cowl and looking worn and tired, knocked at the door 
 of a fisherman, and begged him to take him in his boat 
 to the neighboring island on the lake. He made his 
 demand with such sweet insistence that he won the 
 wavering peasant's consent. The poor monk held in 
 his hand a lighted taper, which, in spite of the fury of 
 the wind and rocking of the little boat, seemed never to 
 go out, and looked like a tiny star in the dark. The 
 voyage was a hard one; the boatman pulled at his oars, • 
 and late in the night the Isola Maggiore was reached. 
 
 Strong in his faith, confident in his safety, the monk, 
 who was no other than St. Francis, alighted from the 
 boat and knelt down on the rock to thank God, leaving 
 as he arose the imprint of his knees in the stone. Here 
 the holy man lived in a tiny hut, built gradually by 
 himself, for forty days and forty nights, and the plen- 
 teous fish of the island made a fortunate substitute 
 for the avoided meat. The legend runs that, as he 
 walked about, roses sprang up in his footprints, green 
 sprouts came between the rocks, and the water of the 
 island brooklet is said to have been blessed because the 
 holy man drank from it. So peaceful and so beauti- 
 ful was this Lent, spent in solitude, prayer, and devo- 
 tion to his holy faith, that the saint seems to have left 
 the odor of his spirit forever on the island. 
 
 Companies of peasants came in pilgrimages to kiss 
 the impress of the kneeling saint, and here and there 
 rose tiny chapels dedicated to him. He was so poeti- 
 cal, so simple, so natural in his love of life in all its 
 forms, so human in his devotion and in his kindliness 
 to his fellow-men, that it is not surprising that St. 
 Francis appeals more than any other to the Italian 
 [343] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 mind. Not only did the peasants come to the Lake 
 of Trasimeno, but Pius II, the great Piccolomini, 
 made a pilgrimage and passed the night here in the 
 month of February, late in the fifteenth century. St. 
 Bernardo of Siena, the blessed Conrad, and many 
 others after them made their pilgrimage to what was 
 believed to be the holy island. In 1328, on its smil- 
 ing green hill, rose a convent, and near to the convent 
 the great church of San Francesco. Little by little, 
 men and women gathered to live upon the island, and 
 across the lake in the early morning hours could be 
 heard the sound of the matin bells of the campanile. 
 Groups of monks wandered among the flowery paths, 
 meeting ever more numerous groups of penitents and 
 pilgrims, and the fishermen on the lake in their little 
 barques sang the following song: 
 
 "Voglio invitar tutto il mondo ad amare, 
 Le valll e i monti e le genti a cantare 
 L' abisso e i cieli e tutt' acque del mare 
 Che faccian versi davanti al mio amore." 
 
 Let me bid all the world to do naught but love, 
 The valleys and mountains and men to sing 
 The chasms and heights and seas o' the world, 
 To my love let them sweet verses bring. 
 
 But the church of St. Francis and the humble peasants 
 were not to be left alone in their little pearl of the 
 world. The men of the island had sworn to Ermanno 
 di Sassoferrato, Captain of the People of Perugia and 
 to his successors, complete obedience as early as 1278. 
 Later the island came under the jurisdiction of Cortona, 
 but its history is rather more linked with Perugia. There 
 [ 344 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 are legends of the occupation of the shores of the lake 
 by the great Fortebraccio, but Ferdinand, the Grand 
 Duke of Tuscany, at last laid hold of the island, and 
 it became eventually a part of the pontifical states, 
 along with Perugia. 
 
 In i860 it was taken from the monks and the 
 monastery suppressed. The brothers abandoned their 
 beloved cells, the convent remained deserted, and the 
 church bells silent. The men of the place, who had 
 lived so long in happy association with the brown- 
 cowled brothers, were left alone, with nothing but 
 their fishing to support life, while the women had but 
 one occupation — to mend the nets. When the lake 
 was faithless and the storms came and the nets were 
 empty, the women saw Poverty at the door and 
 Hunger sitting with their children. Then came the 
 Marchese Guglielmi, who transformed the monastery 
 into a princely castle, and now amidst prosperity and 
 happiness they exclaim, "It was not possible for us 
 to suffer long, for St. Francis has passed this way, and 
 he will never forsake us!" 
 
 Indeed, they believe that on the day consecrated 
 to him (the fourth of October) St. Francis descends 
 the hill from among the pines to bless his beloved 
 island. It is thought that the flowers bloom best at 
 that time, that the air is sweeter, and that happiness 
 is sure to come to all those who make the pilgrimage to 
 this charmed spot at that season. 
 
 To-morrow, although not the fourth of October, 
 we are going for a walk to the interesting little chapel, 
 which still remains near the sacred rock where St. 
 Francis is supposed to have landed. 
 [ 345 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Later this afternoon, after tea, to which wine and 
 cakes are often added in Italy, we left the small sitting- 
 rooms, which were once the cells of the monks, and 
 went into the large new wing that has been built by 
 the Marchese, which serves as a combination ballroom 
 and theatre; a very happy combination that we made 
 good use of, especially after dinner to-night, for we had 
 charades during the early part of the evening, and later, 
 dancing, for the Guglielmis have, as a sort of household 
 entertainer and companion, a very skilled pianist from 
 Rome, who played indefatigably all the best waltzes. 
 Count Moroni, Cesnola and the other men of the party 
 all dance delightfully, and of course Guglielmi as a 
 dancer is perfection, so you may imagine that I had 
 a glorious time. At twelve o'clock we left the men 
 ready to begin a bridge tournament. Night is the 
 moment for Italians, and Cesnola admitted to me 
 that it was three, or perhaps half past, before the 
 bridge table was abandoned. 
 
 Castle Guglielmi, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 It is impossible to write you every day, and our 
 visit here has been prolonged far beyond what we 
 expected. The temptation was too great to remain 
 among these kind friends, and amidst these beautiful 
 surroundings, and both the Marchesa and Giorgio 
 urged us so earnestly to remain that the calendar reads 
 several days later than when we planned to leave this 
 beautiful Castello Isabella, as it is sometimes called 
 in compliment to the Marchesa. 
 [346] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Before tea this afternoon I took a stroll with 
 Guglielmi on the great terrace, which is built out in 
 the front of the castle, and whose high, parapeted 
 sides are lined with graceful ilex and tall cypress trees. 
 The formal garden is beautifully laid out, and although 
 it is rather late for flowers the chrysanthemums were 
 luxurious, and, I suppose due to the memory of St. 
 Francis, the roses in full and beautiful bloom. The 
 view from this terrace on the lake, which is some thirty 
 miles in circumference, was most beautiful, and one of 
 the days of our stay we are planning for a picnic 
 excursion to Minore, a smaller island of the lake, which 
 Guglielmi tells me is very pretty and an excellent place 
 for a day's outing. 
 
 After tea we all went into the big ballroom and 
 the family kindly showed me some of the old records 
 of the castle, which, of course, are most interesting and 
 exactly what I wanted. Since our arrival, on the first 
 day of hard rain, it has been perfect weather, and this 
 morning early, before starting out, Guglielmi and I 
 went up to the top of the castle to have a view up and 
 down the length of the lake, and of the surrounding 
 mountains. 
 
 Much has been written of the great battle, which 
 was fought near here in 217 B.C., when the great Han- 
 nibal gained a complete but sanguinary victory over 
 the consul Flaminius, when nearly fifteen thousand 
 perished on the spot; and the memory of the streams 
 of blood that once discolored the lake survives still 
 in the name of the little village of Sanguinetto, situated 
 by the tiny stream of the same name. I felt with 
 Byron, in thinking of this long-ago battle, how beauti- 
 [347] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ful to-day is the lake, the castle, and all the country, 
 now irrigated and developed. 
 
 "By Thrasimene's lake, in the defiles 
 Fatal to Roman rashness, more at home; 
 For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles 
 Come back before me, as his skill beguiles 
 The host between the mountains and the shore, 
 Where Courage falls in her despairing files, 
 And torrents swoln to rivers with their gore. 
 Reek through the sultry plain, with legions scatter'd o'er. 
 
 "Far other scene is Thrasimene now; 
 Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain 
 Rent by no ravage save the gentle plow; 
 Her aged trees rise thick as once the slain 
 Lay where their roots are; but a brook hath ta'en — 
 A little rill of scanty stream and bed — 
 A name of blood from that day's sanguine rain; 
 And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead 
 Made the earth wet, and turn'd the unwilling waters red." 
 
 As no trace of war or bloodshed is left in this peace- 
 ful and plentiful valley, so no trace of the convent is 
 left on the exterior of the castle. Square machicolated 
 towers are at the four corners, and a stately tower at 
 one side rises high above the others, giving due dignity 
 and fine proportions to the castle as a whole. 
 
 Our party to-day was of the merriest, and numerous 
 other friends from neighboring villas joined us at tea 
 this afternoon. There is a constant coming and going; 
 the two or three little steamers belonging to Guglielmi 
 are kept busy bringing and taking the visitors. The 
 Marchesa is a most indefatigable and courteous hostess; 
 she not only welcomes each guest with charming cordi- 
 ality, but goes with every departing company of friends 
 in the boat to the shore ; the afternoon when we arrived, 
 [348] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 she made no less than four trips in the pouring rain from 
 the castle terrace to the steamer, directed the embarking 
 of her guests, stepped each time into the boat, and 
 accompanied them as far as the shore. 
 
 Nothing seems to trouble her, and one would im- 
 agine that all the creature comforts by which we are 
 continually surrounded happened of themselves. Yes- 
 terday my curiosity overstepped the bounds, and I 
 frankly asked the Marchesa how it was possible for 
 her to give such really splendid luncheons and dinners 
 to so many guests every day, when the question of 
 supplies must be extremely difficult. We are near to no 
 very large town, we are some distance from the railway, 
 and yet every dainty of the market is on the table, to 
 which from twenty to forty sit down at luncheon and 
 dinner. Breakfast is even more comfortably served 
 than in the great English houses, and unless some special 
 plan is made for a certain time in the morning, I wait 
 until the pine breezes awaken me before I touch my 
 electric button, which quickly brings the smiling maid 
 and a delicious breakfast. The Marchesa was rather 
 surprised, but pleased, I think, to realize that I appre- 
 ciated her valiant overcoming of difficulties, and ex- 
 plained to me a few of her methods. It seems that 
 carts leave the nearest large village every day at four 
 o'clock in the morning loaded with provisions for the 
 next day for the castle. Three times a week at great 
 expense (she did not say so, but I know it must be) ice 
 is brought by the railway, taken in carts to the landing, 
 and then the indefatigable steamers do the rest. One 
 whole wing of the castle is kept quiet, and is reserved 
 for the invalid husband of the Marchesa. The wing 
 [349] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 in which we are seems to me the most attractive, and 
 as GugUelmi understands the good things of this Hfe 
 pretty well, I conclude it must be so, as his room is very 
 near ours. Each wing of the castle has its own house- 
 keeper, who has, in turn, her servants under her. A 
 head butler, with several men under him, looks after 
 the lower rooms of the castle, and I do not know how 
 many cooks prepare our dainties in true Italian fashion. 
 Then, of course, there are the numerous boatmen who 
 manage the launches, of which there are several besides 
 the steamers. So you can see that there is nothing 
 that can be done that is left undone for the pleasure 
 and comfort of the guests of Castello Guglielmi. 
 
 Last evening, although I had been dancing, they 
 begged me so hard to sing that I did so, and was 
 quite surprised at Giorgio's enthusiasm, for I did not 
 imagine him to be particularly musical. I mean 
 musical from the Italian standpoint, because, of 
 course, every Italian has a certain amount of musical 
 understanding, and generally considerable talent. 
 
 If I followed my inclination, I fear I should wear 
 out my welcome in this altogether delightful place, but 
 we have rigidly promised ourselves to leave day after 
 to-morrow, for I feel I cannot go without another trip 
 in the launch, and another view of this beautiful island 
 with its round towers jutting out into the water, its 
 great old castle, its stately trees, and its mystic and 
 fascinating legends. We had our picnic, and great 
 fun it was, too; a fine day completing the arrange- 
 ments, and a jolly party kept things moving all the 
 afternoon. As it was Sunday, on our return to the 
 castle we went to the vesper service in the former 
 [350] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 convent church that GugHelmi's father has had re- 
 stored, and the family priest looks after the religious 
 welfare of the inhabitants of the island. It is very 
 late, so good-night. More anon. 
 
 T. 
 
 [351] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Florence, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 HERE we are back at Florence! Guglielmi 
 and his mother saw us off, and actually 
 tucked us into the automobile, waving us 
 a good-bye, but first exacting a promise 
 to come back again next year. It was from no lack 
 of desire that I hesitated to promise, for one never 
 knows where Destiny will take me; but you may be 
 sure if it is to Italy it will be also to Castello Guglielmi, 
 for I can never forget the altogether lovely visit we 
 have had, in what I suppose really is reckoned as one 
 of the most picturesque and beautiful country castles 
 in all Europe. 
 
 Giorgio told us of a little roundabout road which was 
 
 very picturesque and pretty, rather off the main highway 
 
 after we left Arezzo, and on the other side of the Arno. 
 
 But I must say in coming back to the city (Florence) 
 
 I felt again with Byron: 
 
 "There be more things to greet the heart and eyes 
 In Arno's dome of Art's most princely shrine, 
 Where Sculpture with her rainbow sister vies; 
 There be more marvels yet — but not for mine; 
 For I have been accustom'd to entwine 
 My thoughts with Nature rather in the fields, 
 Than Art in galleries: though a work divine 
 Calls for my spirit's homage, yet it yields 
 Less than it feels, because the weapon which it wields 
 Is of another temper. . . ." 
 [352] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 So far my little automobile trunks — praise be 
 to the ever-wonderful "Vuitton" — have provided all 
 necessary toilettes, and although I have not had 
 nearly as many changes as I might have liked, I 
 have had sufficient to make me presentable and com- 
 fortable, but have arranged to have my winter things 
 sent from Paris to Bologna, where I mean to get a 
 trunk, and express back my summer clothes to Mad- 
 ame C, who will look after them for me until I 
 return to Paris. I am surprised to find such nice 
 shops here in Florence. I have invested in numer- 
 ous hats, and was fortunate in finding a really 
 beautiful sable cape, which, as the French say, "I 
 offered myself" this morning. 
 
 Cesnola insisted upon our going to see his family 
 again this afternoon. We had a pleasant tea and bade 
 them good-bye, for to-morrow we are going to Pisa. 
 It is quite late, and we have to start rather early to- 
 morrow morning, so I will not write more. 
 
 T. 
 
 [353] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Pisa, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE have enjoyed our few days in Pisa 
 very much. The Grand Hotel on the 
 Lungarno proved very comfortable, the 
 obliging landlord taking every pains to 
 have our menu satisfactory. The weather was perfect, 
 and we enjoyed our visit with the Countess Pozzo di 
 Borgo at her really charming villa only a few miles 
 from here, at the little town of Moline di Quosa. We 
 met there her mother, the Princess of Belmonte, whose 
 villa we hope to see later in Palermo. The Countess 
 had much to tell me about the work of her lace school, 
 in which Queen Elena takes the greatest interest. I 
 took some pictures of the large villa, the main entrance 
 room being particularly lovely. Count Pozzo di Borgo 
 and his little son came in shortly after tea, and I am 
 sorry that the Countess is not coming to Rome, for I 
 have liked her so much. 
 
 Pisa is always a delight. We had an excellent 
 guide who had passed his examinations before Govern- 
 ment officials, and so could call himself in this instance 
 really an official guide; we enjoyed going to that won- 
 derful piazza, the like of which is scarce to be found 
 in any part of the world, to my way of thinking. With 
 a setting of soft green lawns, apart from the noise and 
 bustle of the city, stands the great cathedral, built in 
 the old basilica style, with but the innovation of the 
 dome over the centre of the cross. At just the right 
 [354] 
 
H|HpFS^aP">**^-'----'-' ' "~' 
 
 II 
 
 
 ,11 
 
 
 
 Taken by Mrs. Batclietlcr 
 
 SALON OF THE PRINCESS POZZO DI BORGO, 
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE PRINCESS OF 
 
 BELMONT, NEAR PISA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 distance stands the baptistery, begun in 1153 and built 
 entirely of marble. Its circular structure surrounded 
 with half columns below, and the gallery of the smaller 
 detached columns above, with the conical dome, to- 
 gether with its beautiful portals, make it one of the 
 most exquisite bits of architecture in the world. The 
 guide took me inside and showed the wonderful echo 
 with his full, deep voice and we had the most curious 
 effect from my trill on a high note. It was lovely to see 
 once more the pulpit in this baptistery by Niccolo 
 Pisano; and then the campanile, the ever-lovely leaning 
 tower, with its wonderful colonnades, adds one more joy 
 to this collection of gems of the world. 
 
 The beautiful picture in the cathedral by Andrea del 
 Sarto it was a joy to see again, and we bought numerous 
 photographs of the wonderful lamp of Galileo (designed 
 by Battista Lorenzi), whose regular, even swaying caused 
 him to think out the science of the pendulum. The 
 numerous other beautiful works of art made it difficult 
 to shorten our stay, and F. B., who has never been 
 here before, was so entranced with this Piazza del 
 Duomo, as well as with Pisa generally, that he would 
 like to spend the autumn here. 
 
 We insisted upon going on our way home across 
 the river and down the little narrow street to see the 
 statue of Monna Vanna (made famous by Maeterlinck) 
 to commemorate her valiant saving of the city at the 
 time of the great siege. 
 
 My mental picture of Monna Vanna is always the 
 
 graceful and dramatic impersonation by Mile. Breval, 
 
 whom I heard sing the opera by Henri Fevrier on its 
 
 opening night in Paris not long ago. It was an inter- 
 
 [355] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 esting incident in the history of Pisa, and I was glad 
 to see the little statue which is now placed in the wall 
 on one of the small streets of the town through which 
 Monna Vanna is supposed to have passed on her 
 hazardous errand. 
 
 It is hard to realize that Pisa was not only once a 
 Roman colony, but a nation by itself, which drove 
 the Saracens from Sardinia, which it conquered, took 
 a prominent part in the Crusades, and extended its 
 trade over the entire Mediterranean, being really 
 supreme over the whole coast from Spezia to Civita 
 Vecchia. 
 
 It is a clear cold autumn evening and the lights 
 along the graceful curving Lungarno throw their 
 reflections, now into the dark sombre waters of the 
 silent river, now twinkle brightly up to my window. 
 
 Is it any wonder that the Italians are a people of 
 sentiment when their every surrounding makes direct 
 and potent appeal to all that is passionate and sensitive 
 in human nature? 
 
 T. 
 
 356 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 iEMiLiA, Bologna, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE have given our wonderful automobile 
 the severest test it has yet had in Italy. 
 We left Florence in the morning, and 
 though it was cool, we had no concep- 
 tion that we should have to encounter snow and wind; 
 but I also had forgotten that we were to climb over 
 nine hundred sixty-eight metres, for I knew we were 
 taking the Pass della Futa, that is generally considered 
 the easiest. I was afraid at one time that the auto- 
 mobile would blow over, and certainly it seemed as if 
 Vincenzo, on the seat in front, must freeze with the 
 beating of sleet and snow in his face for several hours. 
 A "Fiat" seems however to weather every storm and 
 surmount all difficulties, and Vincenzo courageously 
 looked back several times on the trip and said to 
 us, "Coraggio, Signora! ^Antonio' non ha paura/* 
 (Courage, my lady! Anthony has no fears.) Anyhow, 
 here we are most comfortably settled in our rooms, 
 which we found decorated with flowers preparatory 
 to our arrival, which was just in time, for last 
 night was the opening of the opera season. Count 
 Malvezzi de' Medici thoughtfully arranged for us to 
 go with him to his box, which is the best in the opera 
 house. Indeed, all the land upon which this theatre 
 is built belonged to his family, and he has the right, 
 from old-time precedent, to enter the theatre and, 
 standing in his box, say, **Let the play begin." 
 [357] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Naturally, in modern times, he does nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 The opera was "Aida," and very well given, I 
 thought, and I am rather a severe critic; but Bologna 
 is a very critical place. I know that the great Ristori 
 used often to bring her plays here for a careful and 
 final judgment before taking them about the world, 
 and to-night there was so much screaming, whistling 
 and general commotion in the upper galleries that 
 the management announced a change of tenor and a 
 new soprano from Milan to-day. The system of giving 
 operas in these small Italian cities is a very sensible 
 one, and is bound to secure excellent performances of 
 what the people decide they wish to hear. For instance, 
 during this season at Bologna, which is to last six 
 weeks, there will be but three operas given: "Aida,'* 
 Catalini's *'Le Wally," and the "Valkyrie." The 
 result is that what they do have is given extremely 
 well, for one of the best opera conductors in Europe 
 has arrived for the whole season, and I am happy to 
 say that he has offered to come and play with me every 
 day. You remember I wrote quite a little about 
 Signor Mugnone in my book on Italy. He is a sen- 
 sitive Neapolitan, and knows how to keep the or- 
 chestra well in its place, remembering what a great 
 many modern conductors forget — that an opera is 
 primarily for singing, to be accompanied by instru- 
 ments, and not, as many times they would have us 
 believe nowadays, a chorus of instruments dimly and 
 distantly accompanied by voices. 
 
 I held a regular reception in the box last night, and 
 all my friends seemed very glad to have me back 
 [358] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 again. Prince Hercolani and Countess Zucchini have 
 put their boxes at my disposal any time I may Uke 
 to go while I am here. I found my packages from 
 Paris had arrived safely, so I am all right for clothes. 
 The house last night was brilliant, and the women 
 looked very handsome. 
 
 Countess Zucchini has insisted upon giving a large 
 musicale for me, and as Signor Mugnone says he will 
 play my accompaniments and the flute of the orchestra 
 will play my obligato, I am going to sing at her house 
 one day this week. Countess Cavazza is to give a 
 luncheon for me, and there seem to be numerous plans 
 developing for a good time during the few days we 
 shall be here. T. 
 
 Bologna, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have been to the opera nearly every night; 
 sometimes with Prince Hercolani, sometimes with 
 Countess Zucchini, and another time with Malvezzi. 
 We have enjoyed the music very much. I stayed at 
 home one night in order to be in good voice for the 
 musicale at Countess Zucchini's, which went off very 
 well. Many of them had never before heard a flute 
 obligato with the voice, as most singers in Italy to-day 
 have done so much singing of Wagner that they have 
 rather neglected, or found it impossible, to combine 
 dramatic singing with fine coloratura. I was surprised, 
 too, at the enthusiasm some of the modern French 
 songs aroused, but anything that is an expression of 
 real sentiment always appeals to the Italians. 
 [359] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Countess Bianconcini, born a Duchessa Nunziante 
 of Naples, is one of the most delightful women I have 
 yet met in Italy. She was not here when we passed 
 through Bologna in the autumn, but came to call upon 
 me almost immediately upon my arrival this time. 
 She gave a delightful reception for me the other after- 
 noon at her beautiful palace here, and I have seen 
 much of her during these last days. Her husband 
 is the brother of Countess Cavazza. The Countess 
 Aldrovandi has been to see me often. Aldrovandi's 
 sister, too, the Countess Perozzi, a handsome woman 
 of great charm, is back in Bologna for the opera season. 
 She looks exactly like her brother; I have never seen 
 such a resemblance. One afternoon there was a charity 
 tea and dance, and Theodoli came up from Padova to 
 see us, and enjoy the dancing. It was one of the 
 nicest afternoon dances I remember. 
 
 Carlo Zucchini and the Cavazza boys, in fact all 
 the people here, have made this one of the gayest 
 weeks I have had in a long time; music and dancing 
 and dinners have followed one another from the 
 moment we arrived. 
 
 Bologna has certainly brought me good luck, for on 
 arriving here we received a telegram from the Captain 
 of Carabinieri at Perugia, saying, "The valise found 
 intact near the municipality of Todi.'* Shortly after 
 we received another telegram from Todi, saying, 
 "Have consigned valise to post-office at Todi to be 
 sent by grande velocita. Municipal Inspector.'* Then 
 followed a letter from Todi, saying that the bag had 
 been found on the highway near Todi; that the reward 
 had been paid, and the bag would be delivered to me 
 [360] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 very shortly in Bologna. They have kept their word 
 absolutely, for I can write you with the greatest pos- 
 sible joy and satisfaction that this morning a splendid, 
 tall officer of the Carabinieri came to ask if I were the 
 **Illustrissima Signora Batcheller," and with a very low 
 bow presented me my bag. He would not take the 
 smallest remuneration in any way, and we paid besides 
 the offered reward only the small express and adver- 
 tising accounts. When he had bowed himself out of 
 the room, you may believe I hastened to the bag, fully 
 expecting to find the money and most of the valuables 
 gone; but I assure you not one thing is missing, and 
 even a little glass vial remained unbroken. I have my 
 precious notes, the pearls, my Piccolomini films, and 
 am greatly pleased, as you may believe. It seems that 
 the peasant found the bag the next morning, took it 
 quietly home with him, waited until he came next time 
 to market, and left it at the police-station, asking if 
 there were any reward. I wish all the people at home 
 who make very discourteous and sharp remarks about 
 the Italians, whom they derisively call "dagoes," could 
 know of my bag story, for I doubt very much if any- 
 one could lose a valuable bag on the highway of 
 almost any other country and have it brought back 
 again after some two weeks or more. It would seem 
 as if the benign and beautiful influence of their great 
 patron St. Francis had lingered on through the cen- 
 turies and made the people of that particular vicinity 
 in Umbria astonishingly kind and honest. I quite 
 believe now, considering my own experience, the story 
 of the gentleman from Rome who had his pocket-book, 
 containing two thousand francs, which he lost on the 
 [361] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 road between Rome and Perugia, returned to him a 
 short time afterward, as in my case. Honesty is one 
 of the striking qualities of the Italian character, and I 
 know that a prominent gentleman near Boston, whose 
 home is in the vicinity of the great metropolitan water- 
 works, told me that at the time of their building, some 
 four thousand Italians were in and about the little town 
 in which he lived. "Not a clothes-line was missed dur- 
 ing the summer, nor a chicken nor vegetable stolen, 
 and we only appreciated," he said, ''the honesty of the 
 Italians when five hundred men of another national- 
 ity arrived, and all outlying property of a small nature 
 soon disappeared." This testimony I can verify my- 
 self, in a smaller degree, for we have had, as you 
 remember, numerous Italians about our place at 
 home, and I do not think that any one of them 
 would take even a cucumber from the vegetable 
 garden. There are other nationalities who come to 
 our shores, who have very dark hair and cannot speak 
 English, and sometimes the misdeeds of these people 
 are laid by an unthinking prosecuting officer to the 
 door of the Italian, because there are generally more 
 Italians than any other newly arrived foreigners, and 
 because the languages of these dark-haired men are 
 all equally unintelligible to him. I have taken great 
 pains to ascertain facts and figures from various 
 people who have had practical dealings with large 
 numbers of Italian laborers, and in every case without 
 exception I have had the same answer given to me, 
 and the same opinion of absolute trust in the honesty 
 of these men. 
 
 We are going after lunch to-day to Turin, for I have 
 [362] 
 

 ^ 
 
 
 THE COUNTESS BIANCONCINI 
 
 Lady-in-Waiting to H . R. H . 
 
 The Duchess of A o s t a 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 had a very gratifying telegram from Her Excellency 
 the Marchesa di Villamarina, saying that Her Majesty 
 Queen Margherita would receive me in special audience 
 at the Royal Palace of Stupinigi. I am greatly 
 pleased, as Her Majesty sees almost no one during her 
 months in the country, and I am looking forward to 
 the pleasure that I know is in store for me. Last 
 night Captain Cuturi came into Hercolani's box to 
 bid us good-bye. He is a handsome, interesting man, 
 and has married a Russian princess who has that 
 peculiar charm that seems to go with all Slav women 
 of birth everywhere. My room is a bower of flowers, 
 and I must say I regret very much leaving this alto- 
 gether lovely city of Bologna. 
 
 No wonder the beautiful Ginevra Sforza, as the wife 
 first of Sante Bentivoglio and afterward of Giovanni H, 
 and who was for so many years the Lady of Bologna, 
 mourned on leaving here! She reigned for nearly half 
 a century, and it seems a cruel and bitter fate that 
 forced her to leave at last. When that dreadful, war- 
 like pope, Julius H, entered Bologna, she refused to 
 depart with her husband and children, threw herself at 
 the feet of the pope, who was deaf, however, to her 
 entreaties, while the childlike people, not realizing that 
 they were exchanging an intelligent tyrant for a severe 
 and hard master in the person of Julius H, cried, "Long 
 live Julius, the Father of the Country, the Saviour of 
 the liberty of Bologna!" 
 
 The Bentivogli found an asylum in Milan; but 
 
 Bologna did not love their lord, and while Ginevra 
 
 incited her sons to revenge, she lived to see the sack 
 
 of her palace, said to have been the most beautiful in 
 
 [363] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Italy. She died at Busseto in 1507, broken-hearted, 
 while her husband died in exile in Milan a year later. 
 Guido Posthumus dedicated an elegy, one of his best 
 poems, to her. 
 
 The whole history of Bologna is to me particularly 
 interesting, and it is never in vain that a people have 
 education and a university in their midst. One could 
 write a book on all the stirring events that have taken 
 place in this historic town, which I think the average 
 traveller sees much too little of, but which the more one 
 sees, the more one is inclined not only to come back, 
 but to stay on. 
 
 T. 
 
 [364 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Piedmont, Turin, November 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 OUR journey here was very pleasant. Her- 
 colani came to lunch with us the day we 
 left Bologna, and charmingly rode with 
 us outside the city walls as an extra mark 
 of courtesy and kindness. He is, altogether, one of 
 the best-balanced young Italians I have met, and has 
 certainly shown us every possible courtesy during the 
 summer. It is doubtful if he comes to Rome this 
 winter, as he does not care much for society, and this 
 season is planning a trip to Egypt. 
 
 Our audience to-day at Stupinigi has been a memor- 
 able and delightful afternoon, for it was not limited 
 to a few moments, as is often the case with Royalty, 
 especially during a court season, where the audiences 
 are necessarily so numerous and consequently very 
 short. A telegram was waiting for us from Her Excel- 
 lency Marchesa di Villamarina, on our arrival at the 
 hotel, appointing the hour at which we were to go to 
 Stupinigi, which is some twenty kilometres out from 
 the city, and far more beautiful than I had imagined. 
 
 It was formerly used by Victor Emmanuel II as a 
 hunting palace. Its architecture is most unusual, and 
 the general effect of the whole palace is that of a long 
 folding screen, so extensive are the two wings on both 
 sides of the main building. A colossal stag surmounts 
 the central roof, and the entire decoration in the inside 
 is suggestive of hunting scenes. 
 [365] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 We were greeted most cordially by H.E. the Mar- 
 chesa di Villamarina, with whom we feel on terms of 
 real friendship now. She told us that Her Majesty 
 had arranged for me to take whatever pictures I wished 
 of the private rooms of the castle, after we had our 
 audience. 
 
 H.M. Queen Margherita received us in a large, sunny 
 sitting-room, and seemed most interested in my photo- 
 graphic results of the summer. She is so delightful a 
 conversationalist, and understands so well how to appre- 
 ciate not only the results of hard work, but the various 
 intervening steps by which those results are reached, 
 that it was a joy to talk over my plans. She seemed 
 very much interested in my work, and was pleased 
 to hear all the news of our various friends who are 
 and have been so closely associated with her own life. 
 She spoke in enthusiastic praise of my voice, and has 
 asked me to sing at her palace in Rome this winter. 
 
 After an hour's talk with her, the Marchesa di 
 Villamarina took me all about the lower rooms of the 
 palace. Her Majesty had a photographer come out 
 from Turin in order to help me, but I did so many 
 things that he thought against general rules that I am 
 very anxious to see the results of my films of to-day. 
 
 After we had tea. Her Majesty said to me, "You 
 have been most successful with your photographs; 
 perhaps you would like to take mine.'* I was over- 
 joyed at being granted the privilege of photograph- 
 ing one of the most charming women and one of 
 the most historic personages in Europe. I suggested 
 that Her Majesty sit down, for I feared my lens would 
 be too slow to take her photograph standing, as it is 
 [366] 
 

AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 very difficult for anyone to keep perfectly still for a 
 period of thirty or forty seconds; but Her Majesty 
 seemed to prefer to stand, and I have done my best. 
 She has that remarkable repose so characteristic of the 
 Italian woman that I dare say the picture will come out 
 all right. 
 
 The Queen Mother was looking very handsome to- 
 day in a gown of black velvet, which set off her beau- 
 tiful white hair to good advantage. As we came away 
 from this historic palace, I realized how privileged I 
 have been this year to have had already several long 
 talks with this first Queen of Italy. Queen Margherita 
 will go down to history as one of the reasons of the first 
 success of Italian unity. Her amiability, her never- 
 failing tact, her wide and broad culture, which has 
 brought courage and inspired effort in the minds of all 
 scholars and artists of her country, her beauty, and that 
 famous smile, which, with the diplomacy of a Cavour 
 and the force of a Victor Emmanuel, is said to have 
 made the beginnings of United Italy, all have tended 
 to make a peculiarly bright halo of history about her 
 life. 
 
 We ran quickly back to Turin and found the 
 Countess Balbis di Sambuy waiting for us at the hotel. 
 You remember I spoke of meeting her at the Princess 
 Ratibor's when we were here in the summer. Princess 
 Ernestina is away with her mother and sister on her 
 travels, and the Countess Balbis came to tell me this 
 evening that Her Imperial Royal Highness, the Prin- 
 cess Letitia Bonaparte, Dowager Duchess of Aosta, 
 had come from Moncalieri, the great Royal Palace in 
 which she is living near here, to spend the day in Turin; 
 [367] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 also that I am to have the pleasure of an audience with 
 Her Imperial Highness in the afternoon. I was rather 
 sorry that she had put the audience as late as five 
 o'clock, because I hoped very much to take photo- 
 graphs of her apartments, which the Countess says 
 are charming, in the Royal Palace here in Turin; 
 but of course I could give no expression to my feeling, 
 and was glad of an opportunity to see the Duchess 
 at all. 
 
 We shall ship the car directly from here to Rome, 
 and I fear after this my letters will be infrequent and 
 short, for you know what Rome is like, I have written 
 you so much in years before; so if my messages come 
 few and far between, you will realize it is because we 
 are very gay and our hours are very late, leaving little 
 time for letter-writing. 
 
 T. 
 
 Turin, November 
 My dear M: 
 
 We are to take the train to-day for the first time, 
 with the exception of our little ten minutes from 
 Mestre to Venice this summer. The car has gone, and 
 we hope soon to be in Rome ourselves, where one of 
 the first people we hope to see is Prince Giovanni Tor- 
 Ionia, who was here in Turin with us last August. 
 His villa is said to be the most beautiful in many ways 
 of any in this land of wonders. Also it is very difficult 
 to see, as cards of admission are rarely given, even to 
 his friends. He has been most rordial, however, in his 
 invitations to us, and I am looking forward not only 
 [368] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 to seeing the "padrone di casa," but to enjoying his 
 art treasures as well. 
 
 Our audience with H.I.R.H. the Duchess Letitia 
 was charming. She is very vivacious, very simple, with 
 delightful manners, and seemed greatly interested in 
 hearing of our trip, the people we have seen, and what 
 I am trying to do. It is possible that she will be in 
 Rome this winter, if only for a few days, as she some- 
 times comes down for the court ball. She received us 
 in her son's apartment (Count Salemi), because her 
 own apartments were undergoing a renovation, so I 
 probably would not have been able to photograph 
 them in any case. Indeed she said that another time 
 she should be very glad to have pictures taken of her 
 rooms, and hoped I should come back to Turin to see 
 her again next year. 
 
 It is train time, and I must close. 
 
 T. 
 
 [369] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Rome, Latium, December 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE are comfortably settled in spacious 
 rooms at this new Hotel Excelsior and 
 have had our promised visit with 
 Prince Giovanni Torlonia at the Villa 
 Albanl. The glamour of its reputation is nothing 
 compared to the beauty of the reality. 
 
 One would never dream, as one passed the high, 
 plain wall just outside the Porta Saleria, that behind 
 it were the countless treasures of rare marbles, fine 
 architecture, old bronzes, priceless tapestries, paintings 
 unnumbered and Roman excavations carefully arranged 
 in the most artistic fashion. The fountains were play- 
 ing this afternoon, and the golden sunshine of this early 
 winter, which is still most temperate, lent an incompar- 
 able charm to this wonderful Villa Albani. Torlonia is 
 the name, really, of Giovanni's mother, who brought 
 an enormous dot as her marriage portion to Prince 
 Borghese of the great Borghese family, that gave 
 Paul V to the Vatican and many distinguished men 
 to history. By arrangement of the marriage con- 
 tract, the great Borghese was to renounce his name 
 in favor of his wife, and the children were to be 
 known as Torlonia. I think Prince Giovanni's title 
 actually is Prince of Fucino, but no one by any 
 chance ever speaks of him in that way. He is a dep- 
 uty to the Parliament and one of the richest men in 
 Italy, but best of all, he is our good friend. 
 [370] 
 
y Mrs. Batcheller 
 
 HER MAJESTY QUEEN MARGHERITA 
 
 In her Salo7i at the Castello of Stupinigi 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 We had a delightful time strolling through the 
 grounds; Don Giovanni did everything to make the 
 afternoon enjoyable, and had the whole villa opened 
 for us. He cares very little for society, but we hope 
 to see him now and then at little dinners. His villa 
 differs from the others of Italy, because it was con- 
 structed primarily to be a treasure-house; a suitable 
 dwelling for many rare antiquities and art wonders 
 that the great Cardinal Albani and his intimate 
 friend Winckelmann, whom he persuaded to come 
 and live with him, devoted many years to collect- 
 ing. One has the sensation of having come to a 
 magical palace by the wave of a fairy godmother's 
 wand, and one feels as if in the soft lights of evening, 
 mystical beings of great beauty must frequent the place, 
 and finding the marble halls as beautiful as themselves, 
 begin to dance in the soft moonlight to the music of the 
 spraying fountains, running afterward to sport in the 
 marvellous colonnaded loggia at the end of the formal 
 garden. In one of Winckelmann's letters, speaking of 
 the marvellous columns of this curving loggia, he says: 
 "The place is adorned with such a quantity of col- 
 umns of porphyry, granite, and oriental alabaster, 
 that before they were put in their appointed place 
 they seemed like a forest of marble." In another part 
 of the grounds are the ruins of the most exquisite little 
 Greek temple; opposite, a fountain surmounted by an 
 elaborate statue, and all about the grounds and pal- 
 ace are placed inscriptions recording the facts that 
 Alessandro Albani built the villa and that Alessandro 
 Torlonia restored it in 1871. 
 
 The villa was built in 1760 by Cardinal Alessandro 
 [371-] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Albani, called the Great Cardinal, and although 
 Marchionni was the architect, the designs were really 
 the Cardinal's own. The lofty two-storied palace is 
 flanked on both sides on the lower story by a spacious 
 open colonnade running the whole length, and along 
 which are placed statues and vases. It would be use- 
 less for me to give you a detailed description; indeed 
 I could not remember all of the rare works of art 
 that this villa contains; but I succeeded in getting a 
 photograph of the bronze statuette representing Apollo 
 (Sauroctonus), which is after Praxiteles, and also an 
 excellent picture of the ceiling of the main hall by 
 Raphael Mengs. In the first room to the left of the 
 main salon where this fresco is, is placed the beautiful 
 and celebrated "Relief of Antinous" from the Villa of 
 Hadrian, and there are many many more beautiful and 
 wonderful works of art. 
 
 One would almost expect Giovanni's name to be 
 Camillo, as that seems to be the family name of the 
 Borghese. Camillo Borghese was Legate to, Spain in 
 1596 and succeeded Leo XI as Pope Paul V, that pope 
 whose privilege it was to place his name on the great 
 front portal of the Basilica of St. Peter that was fin- 
 ished and dedicated during his papal reign. 
 
 Another Camillo Borghese served in the French 
 army in his youth, and in 1803 married that vain and 
 beautiful Pauline, sister of Napoleon, by whom he was 
 made Duke of Guastalla in 1806. He sold the Borghese 
 collection of antiquities and artistic treasures that had 
 been collected by his father, Marcantonio, to Napo- 
 leon, for thirteen million francs. To-day all the 
 world enjoys the treasures and the beauties of the Villa 
 ' [372] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Borghese, for, as you know, the family lost its financial 
 standing in the great real estate excitement in Rome 
 some few years ago, and the famous Borghese villa 
 and park were bought by the Italian Government, and 
 is now officially called the Villa Umberto I. It is 
 planned to erect a bridge from the Villa Borghese to 
 the hill of the Pincio; I notice in our morning walks 
 that the preparations to this end are already well 
 advanced. It will be a great addition to Rome to 
 connect these two beautiful parks, and greatly add to 
 the afternoon drives. King Victor Emmanuel III 
 contemplates placing a beautiful statue to the 
 memory of his father as commemorative of this 
 improvement. 
 
 We wrote ourselves down at the palace only yester- 
 day, and this evening, the Duke of Ascoli, the Gentle- 
 man-of-Honor at the present time to Her Majesty 
 Queen Elena, brought the official invitation to the audi- 
 ence that we are to have to-morrow. It is highly 
 gratifying to be thus quickly received by Her Majesty, 
 and Ascoli, who is always gracious and agreeable, ex- 
 plained that it was quite all right for me to leave the 
 little presents I have brought the Royal Children with 
 his wife, the Duchess (who, as the Queen's Lady-of- 
 Honor is also now de service)^ for Her Majesty has 
 expressed her willingness to accept and receive the 
 playthings for the children. 
 
 People are gradually getting back to Rome; society 
 will soon be in full swing, and our winter promises to 
 be of the gayest. I called on Countess Gianotti, and 
 found her just the same dear self as ever, and have 
 promised to sing for her at her birthday celebration. 
 [373] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Count Gianotti, who, as you remember, is Grand 
 Master of Ceremonies at Court, assures me that we 
 are to be invited to the court balls, which is nice to 
 know. My piano is already in place, and Professor 
 Bustini seemed very glad to begin our work together 
 again. I shall not write for a few days, as we are 
 to be so busy seeing friends. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, December 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Yesterday we had our promised audience with Her 
 Majesty Queen Elena, and never have I had a more 
 charming interview with the Queen, for we were 
 received in the afternoon, as only a very few had 
 been given audience to-day. The reception was very 
 different from my first formal presentation. We ar- 
 rived at the palace and waited in one of the many 
 salons adjoining the apartments of the Queen, instead 
 of those leading to the state reception rooms. Coun- 
 tess Maria Bruschi, who has always been my good 
 friend, greeted me with every expression of cordial 
 welcome. I found, waiting also to be received, 
 Madame Barrere the French Ambassadress, Lady 
 Egerton the English Ambassadress, Marchesa Zacca- 
 ria-Melzi d' Eril and her daughter Mathylde, Count 
 and Countess Cammarata, and a distinguished Italian 
 general whom I do not know. It was very lovely 
 to see all these friends again, and there was barely 
 time for pleasant greetings before Countess Bruschi led 
 us to the Duchess of Ascoli, who in turn announced us 
 
 [3741 
 
UIN OF GREEK TEMPLE IN VILLA 
 ALBANI AT ROME 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 to Her Majesty. I presented my book, and the Queen 
 showed the greatest interest in it, expressed her ad- 
 miration of the outward appearance, and said that 
 later in the season, when her court duties were les- 
 sened, she should read it with great pleasure. She 
 seemed very much pleased at the little presents I 
 brought for the Royal Children, and said that the 
 young prince had not let the *' teddy-bear" out 
 of his hands since the new American toy had arrived. 
 The children, she said, were much interested in 
 the costume of Columbia, made of the American 
 flag, and in hearing the story of Priscilla as explana- 
 tion of the dressing of the doll for the young Princess 
 Mafalda. She asked me kind questions of my country, 
 expressed her appreciation of what I had done for 
 the Industrie Femminili, and after a conversation of 
 some length invited us to remain until the other audi- 
 ences were finished to take a cup of tea with her. She 
 soon took her seat on the sofa, asking the English and 
 the French Ambassadress to sit on either side. I 
 was fortunate in being placed very near to Her Majesty, 
 however, and the subject of art coming up in regard 
 to the opening of a large exhibition of modern Italian 
 paintings in the Galleria Nazionale d' Arte Moderna, 
 Her Majesty told us of her admiration for Sartorio's 
 works, and also of her own art lessons; for the Queen 
 is an excellent artist, using pastel as her medium 
 of color expression. She told us how she had been 
 continually for some days to a celebrated master in 
 Venice, incognito. She felt rather discouraged because 
 each time the master would come and look over her 
 shoulder, grunt, and walk away without a word. At 
 [ 375 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 last one day she concluded to either stop her lessons 
 or venture to ask an explanation of these unsatisfying 
 criticisms on the part of her teacher. Accordingly, 
 the next day as she was finishing a picture, the master 
 came behind her and was about to walk away with an 
 impatient movement when the then Princess of Mon- 
 tenegro asked if he thought her work was satisfactory 
 and if she were improving. " I can teach you nothing 
 more!" was his almost disgruntled reply. The Queen 
 said from great discouragement she was highly de- 
 lighted, and went home from her lesson determined to 
 devote her life to the perfecting of her artistic talents; 
 and then she said, with the quaintest smile, ''That day 
 I met the King." 
 
 Her Majesty still paints and clings to her pastel 
 pencils, for she explained that she finds pastels most 
 satisfactory for catching the fleeting and beautiful 
 lights of the sunsets or sunrises, the ever-changing 
 lights on the water, and the many quickly varying 
 colors in landscape painting. She has bought the 
 larger part of Sartorio's landscapes, and it is greatly 
 to be regretted that she almost never exposes any of 
 her own painting. From art the subject wandered to 
 music; the Queen, as you remember, is an excellent 
 violinist. The Ladies-in- Waiting to-day were all my 
 friends, so that I did not feel in the least in a strange 
 land. Princess Teano was looking very handsome in 
 black, and she has kindly arranged for us to go, a 
 little later in the spring, to her great family castle of 
 Sermoneta, from which her father-in-law takes his title. 
 Princess Viggiano I find as charming as ever, and she 
 seemed very glad to see me. 
 [376] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 last one day she concluded to either stop her lessons 
 or venture to ask an explanation of these unsatisfying 
 criticisms on the part of her teacher. Accordingly, 
 the next day as she was finishing a picture, the master 
 came behind her and was about to walk away with an 
 impatient movement when the then Princess of Mon- 
 tenegro asked if he thought her work was satisfactory 
 and if she were improving. " I can teach you nothing 
 more!'* was his almost disgruntled reply. The Queen 
 said from great discouragement she was highly de- 
 lighted, and went home from her lesson determined to 
 devote her life to the perfecting of her artistic talents; 
 and then she said, with the quaintest smile, "That day 
 I met the King." 
 
 Her Majesty still paints and clings to her pastel 
 pencils, for she explained that she finds pastels most 
 satisfactory for catching the fleeting and beautiful 
 lights j^^ tij^ j^»l¥^t^ ©% #Mniifi«f^ Athfr Q(\Kff-ichanging 
 lights on the water, and the irKUiy quKkly v3r>Mng 
 colors in landscape painting. She has bought the 
 larger part of Sartorio's landscapes, and it is greatly 
 to be regretted that she almost never exposes any of 
 her own painting. From art the subject wandered to 
 music; the Queen, as you remember, is an excellent 
 violinist. The Ladies-in-Waiting to-day were all my 
 friends, so that I did not feel in the least in a strange 
 land. Princess Teano was looking very handsome in 
 black, and she has kindly arranged for us to go, a 
 little later in the spring, to her great family castle of 
 Sermoneta, from which hef father-in-law takes his title. 
 Princess Viggiano I find as charming as ever, and she 
 seemed very glad to see me. 
 [376] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 After a half-hour with conversation, tea, and cakes, 
 Her Majesty retired to her own apartment, while the 
 Ladies-in-Waiting looked after the teacups, and we 
 left the palace after five o'clock. It was a most 
 delightful tea, served by the most distinguished 
 women of Italy, and it is one of my most charming 
 memories. 
 
 Besides my friends of to-day, I have seen many other 
 people, and many have come to call already. We went 
 from here, although it was almost too late, to the Villa 
 Lante for a short visit and greeting to dear Madame 
 Helbig. We found her sitting at her piano playing 
 the most lovely Christmas music of Liszt. Her son 
 Dmitry, most unfortunately, is not here this year, 
 but is deeply engrossed in his scientific studies in the 
 country near Milan. We met Professor Helbig this 
 afternoon also, and went out on the terrace to have the 
 renewed pleasure of this beautiful view of which 
 Stendhal wrote: "I have seen Romans pass entire 
 hours in mute admiration as they leaned on the win- 
 dow sills of the Villa Lante on the Janiculum." 
 
 I quote this, as Madame Helbig has just sent it to 
 me this evening with this card: 
 
 Dear Paragon: 
 
 I send you the lines of Stendhal with my best love. God 
 bless you. 
 
 Nadine Helbig. 
 
 There is hardly anywhere in the world, even in 
 Rome, a more grandiose site than that of the Villa 
 Lante, on the very top of the mountain. At the right 
 is the mountain where St. Peter was crucified, bless- 
 ing the city and the universe; to the left the Vatican 
 [377] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 and the dome of St. Peter's, carrying the triumph of 
 the Cross toward heaven. The garden where Tasso 
 wrote, a short time before his death, adjoins the gar- 
 dens of the villa. Just below is the church of Santa 
 Maria in Trastevere, the most ancient Roman basilica 
 that is dedicated to the Virgin. Still below, the Tiber 
 flows tranquilly on, while beyond, across the plain, 
 one can see St.-Paul-without-the-Walls, and in the 
 distance the blue mountains of ancient Latium lift 
 their peaks toward heaven. Below lies all Rome, 
 with its many houses, streets, palaces, and churches, 
 from which one hears the innumerable bells at the 
 time of the angelus. One may well say with Pere 
 Barrelle that at Villa Lante ''one has all Rome at 
 one's feet and the whole heaven above one's head." 
 
 Madame Helbig lives here, as did Madame Barrat, 
 in a certain isolation, but she is too much beloved not 
 to be sought out even on the top of the Janiculum, and 
 her many friends from all parts of the world find a 
 charming and generally a musical welcome awaiting 
 them at the Villa Lante. If Madame Barrat, during 
 her life here, interested herself in the plants, gardens, 
 and animals, Madame Helbig has interested herself 
 not only in plants and animals, but has founded a 
 hospital for sick children in this district of Trastevere. 
 Over thirteen thousand children have received medical 
 aid and been treated, during the seven years since 
 this hospital was established, and Madame Helbig 
 told us to-day how Queen Elena often comes to the 
 dispensary, and personally inspects the wards, in which 
 she shows not only a kindly, but very intelligent 
 interest. Her Majesty told me this very afternoon 
 [378] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 how two hours of each day her children are obHged 
 to devote to doing something that shall benefit the 
 poor. Recently they have been cutting out envelopes 
 for the medicines of the children at this hospital. The 
 poor, the sick, the suffering have never had kinder 
 friends than Queen Elena and Madame Helbig. Dur- 
 ing the winter or early spring months there is usually 
 a concert for this charity, and Madame Helbig then, 
 and only then, comes from her seclusion at this beauti- 
 ful villa, and lets people hear what a wonderful pianist 
 she is. She has asked me to sing with her at this con- 
 cert, and if we are here at the time, of course I shall be 
 very glad to do so. 
 
 There are many beautiful frescoes in this villa, 
 which was designed by Giulio Romano, who also did 
 many of the paintings, and it was a delight to be here 
 again and to have so pleasant a welcome from Madame 
 Helbig. 
 
 Our invitations are coming thick and fast. Mor- 
 purgo came to greet us last night, and asked us to his 
 ball, which comes off in a few days. The Marchesa 
 Cappelli has been to see us, and asked me to sing at 
 her "Wednesdays," when all Rome is to be found at 
 her apartment in the Torlonia Palace. It is very late, 
 and as we have much to do to-morrow I must close. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, March 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This is Easter morning, a bright, beautiful day, and 
 the pansies are all abloom in the little grassplot in 
 [379] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 front of the Palazzo Margherita, where I had the most 
 dehghtful and memorable evening of my life only a 
 short time ago. I wrote you that Her Majesty had 
 invited me to sing a full programme at her palace. 
 The Marchese Capranica del Grillo came to call upon 
 me, and I asked him what Her Majesty would like me 
 to sing, but he said that the Queen-Mother wished to 
 make no suggestions, and would be very glad to listen 
 to a full concert programme; consequently I arranged 
 with Professor Setaccioli, who teaches the flute at 
 the Royal Academy of St. Cecilia here, to play the 
 obligato for me. 
 
 The time set was nine o'clock, and I heard before- 
 hand that Her Majesty was giving quite a large recep- 
 tion, and was told that Countess Gianotti and Her 
 Serene Highness Princess Ernestina Ratibor, whom 
 Her Majesty knew to be special friends of mine, were 
 bidden, as well as several of Queen Elena's Ladies-in- 
 Waiting. When I arrived at the door of the great 
 state reception room, Del Grillo hastened to meet me, 
 but Her Majesty did not wait for me to be brought to 
 her, but came forward herself, and after a most charm- 
 ing and cordial greeting, took my hand and led me 
 to H.R.H. the Duchess of Genoa, with the remark, 
 "Mamma, I want you to know Mrs. Batcheller, she 
 speaks such delightful Italian; and we are going to 
 hear her sing this evening." Then Her Majesty took 
 her seat and asked me to sit near her. After a few 
 moments conversation with the Queen, her mother, 
 and various friends, she asked if I were ready to begin 
 the programme. She had greeted most pleasantly 
 Bustini and Setaccioli, as Her Majesty is never fail- 
 [380] 
 
MARCHESE CAPRANICA DEL GRILLO 
 
 G e n 1 1 e m a n - f - II n r of II . M . Queen Margherita 
 
i 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ing in her courtesies and kindnesses to artists, be they 
 professional or otherwise. 
 
 I began under the happiest auspices, for everyone 
 in the room was thoroughly musical, and Her Majesty 
 graciousness itself. A large platform had been raised 
 at one end of this great room, and a perfect Steinway 
 piano placed in position, together with the most con- 
 venient arrangements for the flute. There was not a 
 flower anywhere that had an odor, although masses of 
 azaleas were arranged artistically with palms in differ- 
 ent parts of the room. It would seem that Her Majesty 
 knew every small wish of a singer's heart, for no detail 
 had been omitted to make my surroundings perfectly 
 comfortable. I began with an aria from the "Nozze 
 di Figaro" and followed it by another .of my beloved 
 Mozart arias, the "Re Pastore." Setaccioli played 
 a delightful obligato, and I much prefer the flute 
 with this aria to the violin. Then I sang the aria of 
 the *' Queen of the Night" from the opera ** Magic 
 Flute," and I was very much gratified and rather sur- 
 prised that these court ladies should applaud so 
 vigorously. Her Majesty left her seat, offered me her 
 hand in congratulation, asking if I were not tired and 
 if I wished to rest. I was feeling, however, very 
 happy and exactly in the mood, so I continued the 
 programme with some modern French, and then my 
 nightingale aria with the flute. The little song of Rene 
 Lenormand pleased Her Majesty very much, and she 
 came to the piano, took the music, and looked it over 
 carefully. When the flute song was finished she came 
 and took me to a seat, and again seeming to know 
 every thought of the singer, so arranged the conversa- 
 [381J 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tion that I really did rest my throat, and was talked 
 to, but not made to talk. She then asked if I would 
 continue, and I finished the programme with Brahms 
 and German music, adding "The Violet" of Mozart, 
 which brought forth especial praise from the Duchess of 
 Genoa, whom, you remember, was a daughter of the 
 King of Saxony. At the end Her Majesty asked if I 
 would sing "The Last Rose of Summer," which I was 
 asked to repeat. After a pleasant rest and talk with 
 many of the ladies and gentlemen present, Her Majesty 
 rose, and coming first to me, thanked me in the most 
 charming and gracious terms of praise, expressing the 
 pleasure she had had, and hoping she would see me 
 again. She spoke in Italian, and made a most graceful 
 tour of the room, giving her hand to every person in it, 
 as she bade each and all good-evening. Just before 
 retiring she came back to where I stood and said once 
 more, "Good-night," in the most perfect English, and 
 again expressed her satisfaction at my singing. As 
 Queen Margherita is one of the most highly musically 
 educated women of Europe, be it layman or Royalty, 
 and as she asked me to sing for her through my own 
 personal meeting and knowing her, I must say that I 
 have never had a more gratifying and happy evening in 
 my life; with that evening alone I feel quite repaid for 
 the many years of hard work and sacrifice that I have 
 given for my throat, voice, and art. 
 
 This morning, to my surprise, and, as you may 
 imagine, to my delight, I received a letter which I 
 quote to you. 
 
 [382 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Gentilissima Signora Batcheller: 
 
 Sua Maesta la Regina Madre m' incarica di consegnarle 
 r unito giojello quale ricordo della serata passata al Palazzo 
 Regina Margherita in cui la Maesta Sua ha potuto ammirare la 
 Sua bella voce ed il talento Suo musicale veramente rimarche- 
 vole. Mi rallegro con Lei di tutto cuore e la prego di gradire 
 cara Signora i miei distinti saluti. 
 
 MsA DI VlLLAMARINA. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Batcheller: 
 
 Her Majesty, the Queen Mother, charges me to send you 
 herewith this jewel as a souvenir of the evening passed at the 
 Palace of Queen Margherita when Her Majesty admired your 
 beautiful voice and really remarkable musical talent. I rejoice 
 with you with all my heart and I beg you to receive, dear lady, 
 my distinguished salutations. 
 
 MsA DI VlLLAMARINA. 
 
 With it came the most beautiful jewel — the Royal 
 eagle of Italy with the cross of Savoy — in the fine 
 gold work that is done so well here in Rome, and into 
 the design is worked a pattern in diamonds of *'M" 
 for Margherita. I have written my letter of thanks, 
 but it seemed hopelessly inadequate as an expression 
 of my feeling of pleasure, gratitude, and deep affection 
 for this great Queen who has bestowed upon me so 
 much kindness and generous consideration. 
 
 I never saw Her Majesty look more beautiful than 
 on that evening. Her hair was dressed in a turban 
 fashion of the Napoleonic days, the soft folds of the 
 turban being entwined with some of her famous pearls, 
 and she also wore the longest rope of those great white 
 glories of the East, which reached far below her knees. 
 I think few women in the world are as graceful in their 
 [383] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 movements, and as easy in their general manner as 
 Queen Margherita of Italy, and it is not at all surpris- 
 ing that she enjoys the love, the admiration, and the 
 esteem of every Italian, and of all the world as well. 
 Naturally, I have worn my jewel with the greatest 
 pleasure, and it has been very much admired by every- 
 one. Her Majesty has accepted the dedication of my 
 new book, and has honored me with a beautiful picture 
 of herself, which she sent me a short time before I sang, 
 in an exquisite leather frame such as they make in 
 Rome, hand-tooled with gold ; but best of all, the picture 
 had inscribed upon it the precious Royal autograph. 
 
 Of course it is too early in the spring for any coun- 
 try life in the villas about Rome, for the Romans go 
 to their country places only in the autumn, and then 
 generally, only for a few weeks; but we are to have 
 permits, and many times our friends will go with us to 
 their villas in the campagna about here. Already we are 
 invited to come to many of them this following autumn. 
 I fear if I should keep on accepting invitations I should 
 never come back to you in America, and we are planning 
 now to come home after our trip to Sicily. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, March 
 My dear M: 
 
 These last few days have been so furiously busy, 
 that it has been impossible for me to write you. 
 
 The days are beginning to be warmer, and though 
 we have had to wrap up a good deal, we can how- 
 ever enjoy our days in the country. We made our first 
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AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 trip yesterday to visit two castles, belonging to the 
 Marchesa Roccagiovane, that are situated beyond 
 Tivoli in the Sabine Mountains. I have seen quite a 
 good deal of the Marchesa in a quiet way, for she is in 
 mourning this winter; but we have had tea together 
 several times, and I greatly enjoyed her rich collection 
 of Napoleonic souvenirs, for the Marchesa's mother- 
 in-law was Julie Bonaparte, daughter of Charles Bona- 
 parte. She was born in Rome, married Marchese 
 Roccagiovane, and died here. The Marchesa has a fine 
 portrait of this distinguished woman, who naturally 
 inherited many of her famous ancestor's belongings. 
 It was a beautiful day. We went first through Tivoli, 
 to which we are going to devote much more time a 
 little later. Luncheon was taken at the little hotel 
 there, from the terrace of which one has such a 
 beautiful view of the ruined Tempietto of the Sibyl, 
 called by some the Temple of Hercules and by others 
 the Temple of Vesta — favored deities in ancient 
 Tibur. 
 
 Our appetites were of the best, and it seemed 
 delightful to take the meal out of doors and ex- 
 change the tziganes for the rushing water's of Tiv- 
 oli. Nothing could be more superb than the views 
 from these heights of Tivoli of the campagna with 
 Rome in the distance; but to-day we hurried on 
 through the valley of the Anio, past the church of 
 Sant' Antonio, with its little old portico of ancient 
 columns, and up into the town of Vicovaro, built on 
 the top of a small spur of these Sabine Mountains, 
 at the base of which the road follows the graceful, 
 curving river. We left the automobile below for the 
 [385] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 pleasure of the morning walk, and a sturdy peasant 
 woman directed us on our way into the main square 
 of the town. It is astonishing how these peasants 
 carry heavy weights on the head, and as they climb 
 to their homes their fingers fly, seemingly unconsciously, 
 with the knitting needles. 
 
 The whole valley was quite beautiful in its fresh 
 young green of spring, and numerous flocks of sheep 
 were wandering along the smooth fields lining the edges 
 of the river. Every foot of the way teems with ancient 
 associations. The Sabine farm of Horace is supposed 
 to have been near here. The town of Vicovaro now 
 gives the title to the princes of the House of Cenci, 
 and the present Princess Vicovaro was a Miss Lorillard- 
 Spencer of New York; but the peasants told us that no 
 member of the present family had ever been to the 
 square old palace that commands a view of the central 
 part of the town. Prince Bartolomeo Ruspoli, who is 
 a friend of the Vicovaros, tells me that the Prince V. 
 has carefully preserved all the records of the unhappy 
 Beatrice, and suggests that I write the story of the ill- 
 fated girl, as it seems that Prince Vicovaro would be 
 very glad" to have the matter put into literary form. 
 It certainly would be an interesting work. Beyond 
 Vicovaro we skirted the valley for some distance, when 
 suddenly by a turn in the road the precipitous rock 
 upon which is built the castle of Roccagiovane came 
 into view. The great rock reaches far out over the 
 valley, its steep sides forming an impregnable founda- 
 tion for the picturesque though rather stern-looking 
 castle above. Great pines rise from below, but their 
 topmost branches fail to meet the high point on which 
 [386] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 the castle is built. It is believed that some temple 
 of old Roman days crowned this height, and Rocca- 
 giovane is also thought by some to be the **fanum 
 vacunae" of Horace; but it is more probable that the 
 villa of Horace lay at the bottom of the valley near 
 Licenza. Where, from the ancient records, there is 
 known to have been situated a villa or dwelling-place 
 of some great man, there are generally innumerable 
 places which are considered by different historians to 
 be the particular one; as here and in the case of the 
 villa of Lucullus at Frascati. About the castle are 
 scattered the small houses of the few people who form 
 the little village, and are largely dependent upon the 
 castle owners for their living. They evidently had 
 seen few limousines, for when we arrived apparently 
 everybody in the town rushed to the square, where the 
 attendant of the Marchesa came to greet us. But for 
 a hard cold she would have come with us to-day. As 
 it was, we asked Madame Ricci-Busatti and her bril- 
 liant son who is considered one of the cleverest inter- 
 national lawyers in Europe. The views from the castle 
 up and down this wonderful valley were incomparably 
 lovely, but the situation is perhaps rather too austere 
 for a long stay, and I quite understand that my friend 
 prefers the more peaceful and beautiful location of her 
 castle of Mandela, which can be reached across the 
 hills in about an hour's walk from Roccagiovane. 
 
 As automobiles do not yet fly, we retraced our way 
 down the steep ascent, and followed the valley until 
 we came to the little station of Mandela, the junction 
 of a line to Subiaco. Here we turned sharply to the 
 left, went up the hill to the picturesque town, which 
 [387] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 was formerly known as Cantalupo, but has now re- 
 sumed its ancient name. It is sixteen hundred feet 
 above the sea, and the castle is nestled among spruce 
 and pine trees, though the tower, rising far above, can 
 be seen for a great distance. Visitors were evidently- 
 expected, and as we turned up the main street near 
 the entrance, the liveried attendant came quickly for- 
 ward to take us at once over the castle and through 
 the gardens. Mandela is somewhat happier in its 
 situation than most of the castles in these Sabine hills. 
 It is easier of access, and while its position is sufficiently 
 elevated to command the most beautiful views of the 
 valley, it is a far more lovely place to stay than many 
 of the austere and harsher situations of the strongholds 
 of this country. It is difficult to describe to you the 
 soft greens of spring, blending with the deep green of 
 the pines that clothe the lower part of the hills. Across 
 the valley we could see the sharp cone on whose top 
 are huddled together the houses of the hamlet of Sara- 
 cinesco, made famous by the pen of Marion Crawford. 
 It is said that from there, and from the little village of 
 Anticoli at the base of the same mountain, come the 
 handsome flower girls in Roman costume, seen each 
 day in the Piazza di Spagna. They sell their flowers 
 in the morning, and pose for the artists later in the day. 
 As one looked across the valley, the tiny houses with 
 their red tiles seemed like a toy village; just as if a 
 child had gathered up her playthings and dropped the 
 houses over an imaginary mountain, steeper than any 
 reality could be. The only way to reach the village 
 is on donkey-back, and I think one day we shall 
 devote to this excursion, for it would be immensely 
 1388] 
 
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 interesting, not only for the picturesqueness of the 
 place, which takes its name from the ancient Sara- 
 cen occupation of this country, but for the superb 
 view of this wonderful valley, which, however, we 
 enjoyed to-day from the top of the square tower of 
 Mandela. Flowers were already in the garden, and 
 it was hard to leave this lovely villa and the fresh, 
 bracing air. Whichever way one looks, each rocky 
 prominence seems to bear its history, and support its 
 castle, and far away in the distance are the white 
 snows of the Abruzzi Mountains. It was to this castle 
 of Mandela that Madame Julie Bonaparte came so 
 often to stay, and I took a picture of her room. After 
 enjoying all the views from the castle, and a stroll in 
 the garden, we wandered through the narrow streets 
 of the quaint town. Everywhere friendly nods and 
 smiles greeted us. We stopped before a door where 
 a girl was weaving linen on a hand loom to be ready 
 at the time of her approaching marriage, so she told 
 us with smiles. Farther on we met two old women 
 standing in the sunshine, turning their hand spindle 
 with one hand, and holding their distaff with the other, 
 while they exchanged the village gossip of the day. 
 
 As we are to stay quite late this spring in Rome, 
 we are determined not to hurry our excursions, and 
 although we might well have seen one or two more 
 castles a little farther on, we decided to go back to 
 Tivoli for tea. I shall never forget the sunset lights 
 over the campagna as we came down from the Tivoli 
 heights, past long groves of ancient olive trees. The 
 last rays of the setting sun caught and caressed the 
 great dome of St. Peter's with their mellow, fading tints. 
 [389] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 There is an allure, an atmospheric charm about the 
 ItaHan sunset that no pen can adequately describe. 
 The blue-green of the olive leaf seems to contrast 
 particularly smoothly with the soft pinks of the setting 
 sun. These old trees about Tivoli, that probably 
 furnished olives to Camillus, who subjugated Tibur 
 in 380 B.C., are far more picturesque with their 
 gnarled and ancient stems, now often split quite in 
 two, than the younger, straighter, and I dare say 
 more valuable, newly planted olive orchards of other 
 parts of Italy. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, March 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning we went out from Rome in another 
 direction along what is called the New Via Appia to 
 Albano, designated on the maps as Albano Laziale, 
 but which is never, by any chance, so called. On the 
 way we passed a great many of the picturesque wine 
 carts of the Castelli Romani, with their big, one-sided, 
 fur-lined protection from the sharp winds, that sweep 
 down over the campagna from the Alban hills, and 
 often have a touch of the Abruzzi snows in their swift 
 passing. The little "lupetini" barked furiously at the 
 automobile, but many times the drivers never wakened, 
 having probably gone into Rome in the night, and the 
 good horses turned out quite skilfully without their 
 masters' aid. There is little to be seen in Albano 
 itself, which dates from about 195 a.d. There were 
 probably ancient temples of Roman days and a 
 [390] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Roman amphitheatre here, but the ruins are so 
 ''ruinous" as to be uninteresting. 
 
 Princess Venosa had made arrangements for us* to 
 visit her villa here at Albano, for of course it is too 
 early for her to leave Rome. The Prince cares little 
 for society, but is devoted to his gardens and the cul- 
 ture of his rare and v^onderful flowers. The Venosa 
 pink has become famous the world around, and cer- 
 tainly I have never seen such carnations as were in the 
 numerous greenhouses entirely devoted to their culti- 
 vation in the grounds of this villa. To Prince Venosa 
 is due the credit of having brought out the first violet 
 pink; and after we had made a tour of these elaborate 
 grounds, enjoyed the beautiful views of the sea in the 
 distance, and the views of the surrounding hills through 
 vistas of the Italian pines, the gardener, who had been 
 most courteous in showing us about, presented me with 
 a huge bunch of these rarities of his greenhouses. I 
 have never seen more attention given to the careful 
 cultivation of rare-leaved plants, and two whole green- 
 houses are devoted to varieties of ferns. Of course 
 there were innumerable roses and orchids, but the pride 
 of the Venosa flora is the Venosa pink. 
 
 We went on from here to Ariccia. The women of 
 Albano and Ariccia are said to be remarkable for their 
 beauty, and I suppose on that account we noticed some 
 particularly pretty girls as we came through the town 
 and stopped before the palace of Prince Chigi, which is 
 just at the left of the great viaduct, built by Bernini 
 for the Chigi Pope, Alexander VII. The town occupies 
 the citadel of the ancient Ariccia, a town of the Latin 
 League, and there is a strange story of the temple of 
 [391] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Diana Aricina, whose priest was always a runaway- 
 slave, who was called king of Ariccia (rex Ariciae). 
 
 It must have been a very uncomfortable position to 
 hold, for, according to tradition, every fugitive slave 
 had the right to kill him and occupy his place until 
 he was killed in his turn. 
 
 Thanks to the courtesy of Prince Chigi, we were 
 shown all about the palace, which is very large and con- 
 tains much that is elegant in furniture and decorations. 
 Some of the walls of the rooms are covered with the 
 rarest of old Spanish leathers, and Prince Chigi's 
 study is decorated with frescoes of Ancient Rome. 
 The throne room is enormous in size and height, but 
 the most interesting place in the palace is the room 
 containing a collection of the portraits of the most 
 beautiful women in Italy in the seventeenth century; 
 while another chamber has the portraits of the twelve 
 nieces of Alexander VII, who were so impressed 
 with the elevation of their uncle to the papacy that 
 they all became nuns to please him. 
 
 In a large room at the top of the palace is a carriage 
 of the Chigi Pope who was elected in 1655 and died in 
 1667. It is to this Pope that we owe the magnificent 
 colonnade that is built in the Piazza of St. Peter at 
 'Rome. 
 
 The House of Savelli sold Ariccia in 1661 to the 
 Chigi family. This family originally came from Siena 
 in the time of Sixtus IV, and grew rich in exchange 
 transac\:ions. Agostino Chigi was the banker of Alex- 
 ander VI and afterward became the financial adviser 
 of the war Pope, Julius II (Delia Rovere). 
 
 Chigi's wealth increased to such a tremendous 
 [ 392 ] 
 
8UIVU83V .TM Q VI A 8ajqA'/I "i O YAS ,01IJI801 
 itiOl aOA<I 3 3 8) 
 
I T A L 1 :\ .\ V ;v o J J. i . .^ 
 
 Diana Aricina, whose priest was always a runaway 
 slave, who was called king of Ariccia (rex Ariciae). 
 
 It must have been a very uncomfortable position to 
 hold, for, according to tradition, every fugitive slave 
 had the right to kill him and occupy his place until 
 he was killed in his turn. 
 
 Thanks to the courtesy of Prince Chigi, we were 
 shown all about the palace, which is very large and con- 
 tains much that is elegant in furniture and decorations. 
 Some of the walls of the rooms are covered with the 
 rarest of old Spanish leathers, and Prince Chigi's 
 study is decorated with frescoes of Ancient Rome. 
 The throne room is enormous in size and height, but 
 the most interesting place in the palace is the room 
 containing a collection of the portraits of the most 
 beautiful women in Italy in the seventeenth century; 
 jv^la a]R©|:liKR -ehQBibej: dias stbeNjaoBtitaite ffirf"itheutwelve 
 nieces of Alexander VII, who - (^ee p;a^b,504^j 
 with the elevation of their uncle . ... , apacy that 
 they all became nuns to please him. 
 
 In a large room at the top of the palace is a carriage 
 of the Chigi Pope who was elected in 1655 and died in 
 1667. It is to this Pope that we owe the magnificent 
 colonnade that is built in the Piazza of St. Peter at 
 ■Rome. 
 
 The House of Savelli sold Ariccia in 1661 to the 
 Chigi family. This family originally came from Siena 
 in the time of Sixtus IV, and grew rich in exchange 
 transactions. Agostino Chigi was the banker of Alex- 
 ander VI and afterward became the financial adviser 
 of the war Pope, Julius II (Delia Rovere). 
 
 Chigi's wealth increased to such a tremendous 
 [392] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 degree that his income was estimated at seventy 
 thousand ducats, an enormous sum for that age. He 
 is said to have owned a hundred vessels and had 
 business houses in Lyons, London, Constantinople, 
 Amsterdam, and even Babylon, and so great was his 
 fame that throughout the East he was known as the 
 "great Christian merchant." He ruled the money 
 market of his time, and when he arrived in Venice the 
 Council did homage to him, and he was placed beside 
 the Doge at the great reception given in his honor. 
 His villa in Rome was magnificent, filled with works 
 of art, statues, pictures, medals, gems, etc. ; poets have 
 described the marvels of his princely residence, for it 
 became one of the most famous monuments of the time. 
 Born in Siena in 1465, he died in his art palace in 1520, 
 and his family experienced the common lot of the 
 uncertainty of fate, and later returned to Siena. The 
 villa was sold by auction later, with all its treasures, 
 to Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, the relative of the 
 beautiful Julia. Later it came into the possession of 
 the dukes of Parma, and is to-day known as the Far- 
 nesina. Agostino Chigi's brother Gismondo was mar- 
 ried to Sulpizia Petrucci, a daughter of that great 
 tyrant of Siena, Pandolfo, and was the ancestor of 
 Fabio Chigi, for whom this villa at Ariccia was built 
 after he became Pope Alexander VH. 
 
 After going through the palace we strolled about in 
 the famous Chigi park, which inspired P. Loti to write 
 his "Belle au Bois Dormante" (Sleeping Beauty), for 
 through its dense foliage no gleam of sunshine ever 
 penetrates. 
 
 We had beautiful views, to-day also, from the 
 [ 393 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 gardens of the Villa Barberini at Castel Gandolfo. 
 The Princess Barberini had kindly arranged for me to 
 see what I wished of the villa, where the ruins of a villa 
 of Domitian make picturesque additions to the present- 
 day gardens. 
 
 The family of Gandolfi seems to have come from 
 Genzano, a little town through which we shall go on 
 the way to Nemi. These nobles, after the Tusculum 
 counts, were the only ones to rule in this district of the 
 Latin Mountains, but they disappeared at the close 
 of the thirteenth century, when the ' Savelli took 
 possession of the town at the time of Urban VIII, the 
 Barberini Pope. Castel Gandolfo, the ancient Castrum 
 Gandulphorum, which took the name of the original 
 builders, has been the favorite resort of several pon- 
 tiffs, indeed the Papal villa here is the only one that 
 the Popes now possess in the Castelli Romani, and it 
 enjoys the privilege of extra-territoriality, by the 
 guaranty of 1871. 
 
 Our days are very busy, and this evening we went 
 to a brilliant reception at the villa of the Princess 
 Giovanelli. H.R.H. the Count of Turin, who is just 
 now in Rome, "honored the Princess by coming, and the 
 lovely Princess is always a gracious and charming host- 
 ess. I had tea with her the other afternoon and took 
 some pretty views of what we should call a palace, but 
 what is generally called in Rome a villa, for the reason 
 that it is built for the occupation of but one family. In 
 the old days the heads of great families built their great 
 square palaces not only for homes, but for places of 
 defence. Generally the head of the family lived on the 
 first floor of the palace, his eldest son and his family 
 [394] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 on the second, the second son on the third, while the 
 daughters of the house married and went to Hve in 
 the palaces of other families, or, not marrying, took the 
 veil in some convent. Old maids were not the fashion 
 in the Middle Ages, bachelor maids never dreamed of. 
 Many of the wealthy young Italian nobles now prefer 
 to have their own villas, and the Princess Giovanelli, 
 the Marchesa Casati, the Marchesa Bourbon del Monte, 
 the Marchesa di Rudini, and many others, have all 
 built new homes in the sunny, high part of Rome that 
 is spoken of as the Veneto quarter, which begins with 
 the spacious palace of the Queen Mother, situated at 
 the beginning of the street of this name. It is im- 
 possible, however, for Italians to live in ordinary 
 dwellings like the rest of the world. They are used to 
 immense space, large rooms, high ceilings, sun and air, 
 and the villa of the modern Roman would be a palace 
 for most people. 
 
 It is very late, and as for a number of days our 
 every minute is counted, you will not have a letter, I 
 fear, for some time. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, March 
 My dear M: 
 
 If the winter in Rome is fascinating and delightful, 
 I am not sure when these warm spring days make it 
 possible for motor trips to the surrounding country, 
 that the city does not become even more enjoyable, 
 for surely our last week has been filled with novel and 
 unusual experiences, and best of all, our good times 
 [395] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 bid fair to continue. One day last week as I was having 
 coffee in the palm room after dinner, the Marchese 
 Serra whom everybody calls "Gigi" here in Rome, 
 and whose friends are legion all over Italy, brought 
 me an invitation from his friend the Duke Lante to 
 luncheon, at the far-famed villa at Bagnaja, a little 
 beyond Viterbo. Of course we were very glad to 
 accept, and the next morning pretty Miss Kelley of 
 Philadelphia, Madame Fourton and her daughter 
 Ninette, of Paris, Count Terzi of Milan, Baron Lo 
 Monaco of Palermo, and others made a jolly party, in 
 several motors, which started out from Rome on the 
 Via Cassia, by the beautiful little lake of Martignano, 
 on past Caprarola, (of which I will write you another 
 time), still up and over the mountains, with ever 
 changing and beautiful views of Monte Fogliano, 
 Monte Cimino, and the whole great range of moun- 
 tains, until we came to Viterbo, where, instead of 
 entering the old gate of the city, we turned off to the 
 right, and were soon passing the great iron gateway of 
 this most famous and certainly entrancing villa. The 
 Duchess was away on a vist, but the Duke, whose 
 mother was an American, gave us a cordial welcome, 
 and we soon found ourselves seated in the large dining- 
 room quaintly frescoed with hunting scenes. The 
 Duke is full of fun, and to-day the family priest was 
 the butt of most of his jokes; but the black-garbed 
 churchman seemed to be used to Lante's teasing, 
 and instead of being disgruntled, helped to pour the 
 liqueurs and coffee, which we had served after lun- 
 cheon on little tables in the midst of this garden of 
 wonders. 
 
 [396] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 The history of this villa is long and complicated. 
 In the fourteenth century Ranieri, Bishop of Viterbo, 
 built a hunting lodge for himself around Bagnaja, 
 where he came to hunt the hawk. The little lodge is 
 now used as the stable, and the arms of the old bishop 
 may still be traced through the whitewash. Cardinal 
 di Gambara, inspired by and doubtless envious of the 
 beautiful villa of the Cardinal of Este at Tivoli, and 
 the magnificent castle-villa of Caprarola, determined 
 to emulate these luxurious leaders of the Church by 
 building for himself a villa near Viterbo, where he was 
 at this time elected to the bishopric (1566). He for- 
 tunately secured the services of Vignola, the greatest 
 of villa architects who, born in 1507, developed his 
 talents just when the glory of the villa life was at its 
 height. He lived at nearly the same time, though 
 somewhat earlier than Palladio, and these two men 
 completed the early Renaissance. Vignola, from long 
 and loving study of classic art, believed little else 
 worthy of attention, and the twin villas of Lante are 
 simple in line, but so beautiful in their perfect propor- 
 tion and soft gray coloring, that one easily furnishes the 
 whole scheme in the imagination. Although many 
 writers on villas and garden architecture of Italy have 
 asserted that the two separate houses of the Villa 
 Lante were designedly built to make a complete whole 
 of garden beauty, I understood Duke Lante to say 
 that the original plan of the villa was intended to be 
 very similar to the present Villa Medici at Rome, as 
 I can show you by the photographs. When the old 
 Cardinal had completed the two houses, and had laid 
 out vast expense upon his ever-beautiful gardens. Pope 
 [397] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Gregory XIII, hearing of the beauties of the villa, 
 announced his intention of paying a visit to the enter- 
 prising prelate who was spending so much for his own 
 pleasure; the Pope did not go, however, but sent the 
 severe San Carlo Borromeo, who remarked as he was 
 led through the wonderful gardens: "The money spent 
 on this would have been better employed in erecting a 
 hospital for the benefit of the poor of Viterbo." The 
 Cardinal's conscience troubled him, the reproof was 
 heeded, and accordingly a hospital was built in Viterbo, 
 and large sums devoted to the cathedral, while the cen- 
 tral part of the villa was left unfinished. It is quite 
 useless to say that the garden and water scheme was 
 intended to be continuous, for there are as many 
 beautiful water schemes at the back of the great villas 
 throughout Italy, and as much time is devoted to the 
 woodland in the rear, as to the fountains and formal 
 garden in the front. The broad terrace, which is now 
 all that connects the two villas at the sides, was in- 
 tended to serve as the foundation for the central part, 
 and it is very easy to see that this must have been so, 
 when one compares it with other villas of this style of 
 architecture, where the central part of the building is 
 higher and the two towers rest on the square build- 
 ings at the sides. The ceilings of the rooms of one 
 villa are charmingly decorated by the brothers Zuc- 
 cari, and are done in the best style of these grace- 
 ful decorators. The Papacy endeavored to have the 
 Cardinal, give up his property right in the villa, but 
 he had had special rights accorded him by Pius V, 
 and he kept "his delight" as his own, though his 
 successor. Cardinal Casali, bequeathed it to the 
 [398] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Church, by whom it was afterwards rented to the 
 Bishop of Viterbo. The Duke is having the fine hall 
 re-decorated, and the beautiful ceiling by Zuccaro 
 which is composed of large female figures in high 
 relief, is being brought into new splendor by restoring 
 and gilding. The guest rooms of the villa are here, 
 and the women of our party left their wraps, and did 
 the necessary veil-prinking in one of them to-day, 
 before going across the terrace to the other villa for 
 lunch. These rooms are hung with some of the 
 earliest of French wall-papers made in small pieces 
 about twelve inches square, gayly painted by hand 
 with birds and flowers, and the colors are still as 
 bright as when they were new. The frieze of the 
 great hall introduces the armorial bearings of the 
 Cardinal Montalto who at last came to be bishop 
 here, and it is to him that we owe the crowning 
 ornament in the wonderful water scheme of the gar- 
 den, where four great man-statues hold aloft the 
 mounts of Monte Alto (high mountain) surmounted 
 by the star, as we see them in the arms of Pope 
 Sixtus V. It is almost impossible to believe that 
 these four splendid figures are not of bronze, but the 
 constant action of the waters, which come from the 
 snow mountains, and have trickled over the stone 
 figures for many hundreds of years, has produced an 
 extraordinarily beautiful result. The hard travertine 
 will probably long outlast bronze, and it will not be 
 melted for coin, anyway. Year after year one prince 
 of the Church after another enjoyed the glories of 
 this villa, until 1656, when Duke Ippolito Lante begged 
 Urban VIII, the Barberini Pope, to compensate him 
 [399] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 for his loss of Villa Lante on the Janiculum, which 
 the Pope had confiscated, with the Bagnaja villa. 
 Neither Urban VIII nor the Pamphilj Innocent X 
 would consent; but the Chigi Pope, Alexander VII, 
 granted Lante's request, on condition of the payment 
 of six scudi yearly to the Holy See on St. Peter's Day. 
 The estate now belongs outright to the family, who 
 also represent the great families of Montefeltro and 
 Delia Rovere. 
 
 Sixtus IV, the Delia Rovere Pope, who founded 
 the Capitoline Museum, allied his family by marriage 
 with the Montefeltro of Urbino. Sixtus made Federigo 
 Duke of Urbino, and Federigo gave his daughter 
 Joanna in marriage to Giovanni della Rovere, the very 
 youthful brother of Cardinal Julian, and through her 
 the Della Rovere family inherited Urbino. 
 
 Federigo was followed by Guidobaldo, the last of the 
 illustrious line of Montefeltro, who suffered such fear- 
 ful treachery from the hands of Caesar Borgia. On the 
 death of Guidobaldo the Pope had ratified the son of 
 the sister of Guidobaldo in the prefecture of the city, 
 and he became the young heir of Urbino; hence, we 
 read on the Duke of Lante's card, Lante Montefeltro 
 della Rovere. It hardly seems possible that a calling 
 card can speak so much history. 
 
 The next Della Rovere Pope was the famous Julius 
 II, who inherited much of the forcefulness of his uncle, 
 Sixtus IV, and whose warlike proclivities were as 
 unpapal as the life of his predecessor, Alexander VI. 
 Nevertheless, the name of Julius II shines in the his- 
 tory of the Church, and of Italy, as the most energetic 
 priest-king who ever sat on the throne of the Vatican. 
 [400] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 As a man his monumental individuality makes him 
 one of the most original figures of the Renaissance. 
 Everything he touched was powerful whether for good 
 or evil. The celebrated "Court of Damascus" by 
 Bramante was also begun under this Pope, but the 
 grandest of all his conceptions, and one which en- 
 titles him to everlasting fame, was the new cathe- 
 dral of St. Peter, whose foundations he laid on April 
 1 8, 1506. It is to the ancestor of our hospitable host 
 of to-day that we can look for the turning point in 
 the Church of Rome, for the founding of St. Peter's 
 was the beginning of a long, secure period following 
 twelve centuries of unrest and contention. The empire 
 of Constantine had passed, and the new cathedral was 
 for a changed race, long to look to the Roman Church 
 as its head and director. 
 
 I could write on and on of this wonderful and inter- 
 esting personage, whose force of character and whose 
 splendid schemes seemed to bring into being renowned 
 architects, painters, and sculptors; Bramante, Michael 
 Angelo, Perugino, Signorelli, Sodoma — all painted 
 in the Vatican. Marvellous statues were brought to 
 light by the spades of the investigators of the ruins 
 about Rome, and Julius II was the first to give these 
 wonders a place in the Vatican, thus founding the 
 museum where the whole world goes to-day for artistic 
 enjoyment. But to return to Lante and its glories 
 and my good times of to-day. I could but think as 
 we wandered up the broad stairway of the terrace, 
 lined with roses and bordered by massive balustrades, 
 past the fantastic fountains, under the noble plane 
 trees and titan-like ilexes, of the brilliant scenes that 
 [401] 
 
. ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 have been enacted at this villa, when Margherita 
 Marescottij wife of Don Vincenzo Lante, had her gay 
 private theatricals here. Surely no more exquisite 
 setting could be had for an out-of-door festivity. All 
 the fountains are named: "The Duck," "The Giants," 
 "The Octagon," and "The Gambara Crab." "The 
 Montalto Mounts" or "The Three Eagles" of Lante 
 are seen at every turn. The great gateway with its 
 fine wrought iron gates was erected by Cardinal Mar- 
 cello Lante in 1772. 
 
 Mixed with the blood of his famous ancestor, the 
 present Duke Lante has a good American strain, for 
 his mother was an American, and he has much of 
 the quick energy and inventiveness of our people. 
 As we drank our coffee amidst this fairyland, the Duke 
 asked me if I would be interested to see his new inven- 
 tion for the cover of automobile tires, and led me to 
 the lower part of one of the villas, which serves as an 
 ample and excellent garage. There are many wonder- 
 ful surprises and experiences to be had in Italy, but a 
 garage with beautiful frescoes by Zuccaro is a rarity 
 not to be duplicated, I believe. At my exclamation 
 of surprise the Duke said: "Yes, but this large room I 
 have no other use for, and it is exactly suited for my 
 automobiles." He sprang lightly to the top of his 
 car, and took apart one of his excellent leather and 
 chain combination covers, which he says save him 
 numbers of tires on his daily trips back and forth 
 to Rome, some sixty or seventy kilometres distant. 
 After due inspection of the automobiles, we took a 
 long walk, starting across the terrace, along one of the 
 paths that lead near the beautiful waterways, which 
 [402] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 are held in a carved stone conduit, that passes under 
 the terrace carrying the waters to the great central 
 fountain. We had already enjoyed walking over the 
 tiny bridges, and making our way among the intricate 
 curved pathways, that, with their little balustrades, 
 complete this water fairyland at the front of the villa; 
 and now, as we wandered to the back of the gardens, 
 where more fountains embellished the terrace, on 
 through the woodland, at most unexpected turns, but 
 always in the most appropriate places for a view, we 
 found many other beautiful fountains, each playing 
 merrily, and catching the bits of sunlight that came 
 through the trees of the forest on their rising waters. 
 After quite a long walk we arrived by a circuitous 
 path at the little casino (which is merely a word 
 meaning little house, and here at the Lante villa is 
 only a canopied resting-place). Presently Lante came 
 up, and guided me through a path among the trees 
 which surround the enclosure where he keeps his wild 
 boars — ferocious-looking creatures which the Romans 
 still like to hunt. I tried to photograph the animals, 
 but they ran far off to the other end of the woods, 
 and looked much too savage for me to wish them any 
 nearer. The various improvements at the villa are 
 largely due to the Lante family. In the days of 
 French gardening under Louis XIV, when La Notre 
 was making the wonders of Versailles, the Duke 
 Lante brought a landscape gardener from France, and 
 to him we owe the great box hedge that greatly adds 
 to the beauty of the "water art" of the front garden, 
 and frames it in its masses of soft dark green. 
 
 It was hard to say good-bye to the Duke, his charm- 
 [403] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ing daughters, and this beautiful scene, but we have 
 promised to come another day. The Duke's two eldest 
 daughters are by his first marriage with a Neapolitan 
 noblewoman, while Miss Allen of New York, who 
 has become the Duchess Lante, has some very sweet 
 babies of her own, who are being brought up in this 
 Italian fairyland. The Duke is an excellent painter 
 as well as inventor. One sees the Lantes very little 
 in Rome, as I think neither the Duke nor the Duchess 
 cares much for society, though they usually come in 
 for two or three weeks of the season in the winter. 
 
 To-day we have been lunching with Count Luigi 
 Primoli, whose mother was a Bonaparte, and whose 
 villa is full, to the point of crowding, with rare memen- 
 tos not only of his ancestor the great Napoleon, but 
 room after room simply teems with the results of Count 
 Primoli's many travels and constant collecting. His 
 luncheon was served quite differently from any that 
 I have ever seen. The table was decorated with ten 
 tall gold columns surmounted by figures of the great 
 Emperor. At each person's place was a series of plates 
 one above the other, into which the successive courses 
 were served, until the pile diminished to the last for 
 dessert. The large menus had reproductions of photos 
 taken by Primoli on his recent trip to India. It is 
 hopeless to try to tell you of all the rare souvenirs 
 this villa contains. Count Primoli is interested in 
 everything that is good art. He has been all over the 
 world, and seems to know all the world, and certainly 
 his house is a veritable museum. The cosmopolitan 
 party was rather large, and jokes went from one part 
 of the table to another in any one of five languages. 
 [ 404 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Rome is nothing if not cosmopolitan, and for that 
 very reason one of the most interesting places in the 
 world. Most of the large cities, however luxurious, 
 are in reality very provincial, and you ara expected, 
 on arrival within their social limits, to do exactly as 
 those who are decreed to be the leaders may them- 
 selves choose to do. In Rome all is quite different, 
 provided you do not outrage good breeding and good 
 taste, you may do what you please, go where you 
 please, and entertain to your liking. You can get on 
 with any one of five languages, but you will be hap- 
 pier if you speak them all. You may have the best 
 of titles of any part of the nobility of Europe, but 
 if you are dull you will be left at home except on 
 formal and great occasions. I see so many people 
 come to Rome fancying that the titled Italians are 
 going to be impressed by their wealth and extrav- 
 agance; and while the Italians are astonishingly kind 
 and generous in their reception of strangers, they know 
 also how to correctly draw the line of courteous 
 acquaintance, and many of these would-be self-impor- 
 tant people leave Rome with a far greater respect for 
 the Italian of to-day, and a far better realization than 
 they ever had before, that money will not buy an 
 entrance into the gateways of Italian society nor pur- 
 chase Italian friends. 
 
 After our luncheon with Primoli, I went to tea with 
 Princess Giustiniani Bandini. She is a sister-in-law of 
 Princess Trabia of Palermo, to whom she has kindly 
 given us letters of introduction, for it will not be long 
 before we shall be leaving beloved Rome, and making 
 our way with the car toward Naples and Sicily. The 
 [405] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Duchess is also a sister-in-law of the Duchess Nicco- 
 letta Grazioli, with whom I had tea the other day at 
 her lovely apartment in the Palazzo Barberini, and 
 who perhaps is one of the most popular women in 
 Rome. Another sister of this famous family is the 
 graceful and elegant Donna Elena Rospigliosi. The 
 telephone is as much, perhaps more, used in Rome 
 for social purposes, than at home, for so many little 
 teas like the one of this afternoon are arranged in a short 
 time, and fitted in among a series of more formal and 
 larger affairs. They are above all the most delightful, 
 and I had such nice talks with several friends to-day, 
 who are helping me plan my Sicilian trip. The Prin- 
 cess and all her family speak English perfectly, and, 
 indeed, Prince Giustiniani Bandini has the Scotch title 
 of Earl under Edward of England, and when Princess 
 Isabella Giustiniani Bandini married Mr. Howard of 
 the English diplomatic service, she could claim her 
 title of Lady in England as well as that of Princess 
 in Italy. To-morrow we are going out again over 
 much of the same road, for Henri Cambon, the Secre- 
 tary of the French Embassy and a son of the French 
 Ambassador to London, has procured for us special 
 permission to see all of the usually closed apartments 
 of the famous villa built by Cardinal Farnese at 
 Caprarola. The French Embassy has for many years 
 occupied the great Palazzo Farnese, that, like Capra- 
 rola, belongs now to the Count of Caserta, consequently 
 these permits and privileges are only to be had from the 
 French Embassy at the Palazzo Farnese. Mr. Corbin, 
 another of the French secretaries, is also going. 
 
 T. 
 [406] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Rome, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 We had the most enjoyable picnic day with our 
 French friends, taking our luncheon on a httle hill just 
 back of Viterbo, and the "asti spumante," and the 
 fat pigeons from the kitchen of the "Excelsior" were 
 delicious in the open air of this early spring day. 
 We enjoyed seeing Viterbo and afterwards went 
 back toward Rome, turning off the main road down 
 the steep hill to Caprarola. One sees many photo- 
 graphs of this imposing villa, but the gardens are so 
 extensive that no photographs can really give one an 
 adequate idea of the splendor of Vignola's scheme, 
 carried out for the Cardinal Alexander Farnese, that 
 nephew of Paul III (1534) whose family came into 
 prominence because of the passion of Alexander VI 
 for the beautiful Julia, whose portrait by Pinturicchio 
 we saw in the Borghese apartments in the Vatican. 
 Caprarola is undoubtedly one of the finest villas of the 
 Renaissance. It is placed high above the town, whose 
 steep main street ends at the rock-like bastions of this 
 villa of luxurious but dangerous days. Its severe front 
 forms a sort of screen to the inner round central court, 
 with its successive tiers of pillars and arches, and to 
 this central rotunda are joined five wings, making the 
 ground plan of the villa as a whole, pentagonal. The 
 frescoes that decorate the long series of rooms are 
 scenes from the history of the Farnese family, as well 
 as scenes from the history of France. They were done 
 by Federigo, Giovanni, and Taddeo Zuccaro. Their 
 paintings are most interesting, not only for their artis- 
 [407] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 tic, but for their historical value. The great Council 
 Chamber is decorated with frescoes of the towns which 
 belonged to the Farnese,^ while in another great room 
 are represented the deeds of the Farnese — the mar- 
 riage of Orazio Farnese with Diana, daughter of 
 Henry II of France, the wedding of Ottavio with a 
 daughter of Charles V, etc. The costumes of these 
 periods are most interesting, and Catherine de' Medici, 
 the gallant Henry IV of Navarre, Mme. de Mont- 
 pensier, and Mile, de Rohan are portrayed accompany- 
 ing Alessandro Farnese and Charles V in a campaign 
 against the Lutherans. The portraits of the three 
 Zuccaro brothers are represented in the persons of the 
 bearers of the canopy of state. Paul III comes in for 
 his painting, and is shown in one of his favorite occu- 
 pations — that of conferring favors on members of 
 his family. In the smaller halls the frescoes are per- 
 haps still more lovely. The Spring and Summer 
 rooms are really beautiful, and in the Autumn apart- 
 ment, the quaint old legend of the vine is portrayed. 
 The Bacchus trampled down by Titans is seen rising 
 from the fire, where his limbs have been burned, 
 new and more comely than before. The vines of 
 beir Italia are thus crushed, trampled on, squeezed, 
 and fermented for wine, and the scattered branches 
 burned; but the vines send forth fresh, beautiful green 
 leaves with returning spring, and bear even more 
 luscious fruit than the young vine of the year 
 before. 
 
 No pen can describe the magnificence of the view 
 
 * Parma, Piacenza, Castro, Vignola, Scarpellino, Capo di Monte, Camina, 
 Ronciglione, Fabrica, Isola, and Caprarola. 
 [408] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 from the long windows of the great state chambers, 
 which are reached by the circular staircase that leads 
 to the second tier of colonnades overlooking the court- 
 yard, from which one enters these magnificent apart- 
 ments. The ceilings of the open colonnade are 
 beautifully frescoed in delicate designs. Great doors 
 lead into the main hall, and it is from the central 
 windows of this great room that one looks toward 
 Rome far across the broad plain of the Sabina, in the 
 midst of which rises the bold Mount Soracte, while in 
 the far distance one descries the dome of St. Peter's 
 with the Volscian Hills as a picturesque background. 
 To the east are the Apennines, to the southeast the 
 snow-capped summits of the Abruzzi, and, directly 
 below, the old bastion and moat that originally sur- 
 rounded the castle; for in the days of the luxurious 
 Julia, a pleasure-house, even so near to the authority 
 of Rome, needed to be well protected by men-at-arms, 
 and a practical fortress did not always serve to prevent 
 an invading force from entering the castle and carrying 
 off the beautiful Julia. 
 
 Nothing more fascinating can be imagined than 
 the exquisite casino which is placed on the crown of 
 the hill back of the great palace, which is much too 
 austere and extensive for ,the happy name of villa. 
 The little casino is in reality the villa of Caprarola. 
 It has exquisite frescoes, and the charming disposi- 
 tion of its rooms, which open out on to the inevi- 
 table three-arched fagade, make it one of the most 
 attractive of the small houses of Italy. "What a 
 wonderful place for a honeymoon!" we all exclaimed, 
 as we recalled the romantic love of Don Camillo 
 [409] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Pamphilj for Olimpia Aldobrandini, the young widow 
 of Prince Borghese. Innocent X was furious that his 
 relative would not accept the red hat, and did his best 
 to break up the already deep attachment of the young 
 people; but it was not so easy, and Don Camillo and 
 Olimpia were married in February, 1647. Thus it 
 would seem that for once the "place, time, and the 
 loved one" came true in real life, though supposedly 
 never but in fairy tales. So happy were the lovers 
 that "to the astonishment of all Rome" they spent 
 the whole spring and the following hot summer in 
 their idyllic retreat. 
 
 The great hermes and caryatides that enclose the 
 upper terrace and exquisite formal garden, in front of 
 this little villa, are somewhat more weird than attrac- 
 tive, more picturesque to see "en passant" than to live 
 with, I should think. Each one is different. A faun 
 with conch shell blows into his companion's ear; another 
 grins at an uplifted cup; and all bear vases, which 
 were once a mass of Italy's lovely blooms, with which 
 the earth has no real parallel. On both sides descend- 
 ing the hill on which this little villa stands are broad 
 terraces of stone, and directly beneath them, springing 
 from an artistic grotto, rushes the water from a giant 
 goblet, over the ever-varying and beautiful stone water- 
 ways that seem to complete the garden scheme of these 
 villas, placed . with sufficient nearness to the snowy 
 peaks beyond, to reap full enjoyment of their melting 
 snows, and the least possible discomfort from their 
 piercing winds. The whole magical place is enclosed 
 in a great massive wall some three miles in circum- 
 ference, a solid bastion of masonry descending into a 
 [410] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 hollowed-out moat-channel, making the grounds abso- 
 lutely isolated and unapproachable. This palace, too, 
 has seen most wonderful festivities, and entertained 
 many persons of high rank in the world's great places. 
 In the days of the Cardinal Alessandro, Liberati's play, 
 "Gli Intrighi d'Amore," was enacted here. San Carlo 
 Borromeo exclaimed on entering the gardens after seeing 
 the wonders of the castle : " What must Paradise be like ! " 
 Gregory XIII was the guest of the Farnese Cardinal 
 in 1585, when a procession of one hundred maidens 
 dressed in white, carrying olive branches and clash- 
 ing cymbals, formed part of the great pageant in the 
 Pope's honor. Though the male line of the Farnese 
 became extinct in January, 173 1, with Antonio, Duke 
 of Parma, Caprarola was left as dowry to his niece 
 Elizabeth, who married Philip V, King of Spain and 
 Naples. 
 
 It was later than we thought when we finished 
 buying photographs of the old guardian, and we 
 hurried over the hills toward Rome, past the road that 
 leads to Bracciano where we are soon to go. Mon. 
 Cambon, as well as we, had a dinner engagement for 
 to-night, and fortunately the tires were polite. 
 
 In a few days the Marchese Serra is going out with 
 us to this castle of Bracciano, that famous stronghold 
 of the Orsini family of which I shall write you more. 
 The history of the families of these friends whom I see 
 every day, and to whom I am becoming much attached, 
 is a never-ending source of interest to me. The old 
 feuds are gone. The Vittoria Colonna of to-day has 
 married into the House of Caetani, and the feuds 
 between the two families, covering centuries, no longer 
 [411] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 exist; but into the history of Rome, which is really the 
 history of the world, are interlaced, in most intricate 
 fashion, the lives, the doings, and the deaths of these 
 great Romans. I doubt if the members of the families 
 themselves could trace without error the complete 
 history of this marvelous city, in which their ancestors 
 have each and all had so prominent a part. Of course, 
 where some great person in the different families not 
 only covered a page of history but made an epoch, 
 as in the case of Pope Boniface VIII, it is easier to 
 group about this central figure the lesser members of 
 his family; but of all the great families of Rome none 
 can be said to have been more powerful than the 
 Orsini. But more to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we have been with the Marchese Serra to 
 famous Bracciano. This great and imposing medi- 
 aeval castle is situated on the lake of the same name, 
 which gave a title to one of the Orsini. Its castle was 
 built about 1460, and has played an important part in 
 the annals of this great, glorious, all-powerful family 
 of Latium. It would fill more than one book to tell 
 you in detail the history of the numerous and celebrated 
 Orsini whose deeds and fame have filled many pages 
 in the history of not only Italy but Europe. 
 
 Gregorovius explains the origin of the family name 
 with the idea that a man, probably a fortunate warrior 
 endowed with rude energy and called Ursus the Bear, 
 [412] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 became the founder of a race which in numbers and 
 tenacity are practically unequalled in history, but the 
 date and the person of this famous ancestor are veiled 
 in obscurity. The family called Filii Ursi (Sons of the 
 Bear), and an Orso di Baro appears as early as 998 a.d. ; 
 but Litta represents the historic family as beginning 
 with Orso, the great grandfather of Pope Nicholas III. 
 The arms of the Orsini family are charged with the 
 rose and bear in the base, a fess in gold charged with 
 an eel. Numerous little bears hold up the sign of 
 the family at gates and portals all over the castle of 
 Bracciano, though the branch of Monte Rotondo alone 
 has on the helmet a bear holding a spray of roses in 
 his claws. 
 
 The beautiful Clarice Orsini became the wife of 
 Lorenzo il Magnifico dei' Medici in Florence, while an 
 Isabella of the Medici House became the Duchess of 
 Bracciano. To-day in going over the castle it was 
 more easy to believe the numerous and rather grue- 
 some legends that surround this woman of the Floren- 
 tine family, for near to where her marble bust is 
 placed is shown the oubliette down which were thrown 
 those of her surrounding admirers who had ceased to 
 amuse her. Outraged at last by her daring and 
 licentious life, her brothers Francesco and Ferdinand 
 betrayed her to her husband, who found means, which 
 seemed to be never lacking in the Middle Ages, to rid 
 himself of a wife of whom he had already grown tired. 
 Accordmg to those grim records, Paolo Giordano 
 Orsini, the Duke of Bracciano, was not only anxious 
 to be avenged, but anxious also to marry the beautiful 
 and unfortunate Vittoria Accoramboni, for whom he 
 [413] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 had formed a desperate attachment. The story goes 
 that the Duke of Bracciano went to the Villa Poggio 
 Imperiale near Florence where his wife was staying; 
 he met her with affectionate greetings and presented 
 her with two beautiful greyhounds for the next morn- 
 ing's hunt. For the benefit of his surrounding house- 
 hold the conversation was agreeable, even tender, 
 during the dinner and evening, but before morning the 
 poor Duchess was strangled, and the Duke was free 
 to marry as he pleased. Poor Vittoria! Her beauty 
 made her tragic history. She had been married by her 
 father to Francesco Peretti, a nephew of the Cardinal 
 Montalto who afterwards became Pope Sixtus V. 
 Supposedly by the Duke of Bracciano, her husband 
 was assassinated, and the widow fled from her father- 
 in-law's house to that of her lover the Duke. Pope 
 Gregory XIII opposed her marriage to the Duke so 
 far as to keep her a prisoner in the Castel St. Angelo 
 nearly a year, but that did not prevent the union. 
 Shortly after the marriage, Orsini died, leaving the whole 
 of his fortune to his widow, who, however, was to have 
 no peace in life since her husband's relative, Ludovico 
 Orsini, the lover of Isabella, from jealousy, revenge, and 
 cupidity, murdered the poor woman in her home in 
 Padova in 1585. No wonder her story has been made 
 the subject of novels and tragedies! 
 
 This wonderful old castle so picturesquely situated 
 overlooking the lake became the property of the 
 Princes Odescalchi in 1696. In 1894 the Odescalchi 
 family began the restorations, which have been care- 
 fully continued, until Bracciano to-day is one of the 
 most perfect examples of a mediaeval stronghold. 
 [414] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Through the courtesy of the Marchese Serra, Prince 
 Odescalchi had arranged for us to see everything of 
 interest, and certainly the restorations have been done 
 most skilfully and artistically. There is something 
 very splendid in the magnanimity of Prince Odes- 
 calchi, who has given so freely of his wealth, time, and 
 interest to this castle whereon he has not once put the 
 Odescalchi arms and insignia. Bracciano and Orsini 
 throughout the centuries are associated together, and 
 with a feeling as delicate as it is intelligent Prince 
 Odescalchi restored not only the falling walls of the 
 castle, the artistically-painted beams of the wonderful 
 wood ceilings, the ramparts, and indeed the whole 
 castle, but each and every part bears the rose of Orsini, 
 the eel, and the bear. It is astonishing how many 
 beautiful bits of color and graceful designs have been 
 disclosed from under the wretched whitewash, which 
 I suppose was ruthlessly used in time of pestilence; for 
 no other explanation can be given for the hiding of so 
 many of Italy's artistic glories, not only in feudal 
 castles, but churches and palaces alike. One of the 
 most interesting parts of the castle is the old mediaeval 
 kitchen, with its strange odd-shaped utensils still hang- 
 ing about the walls, and its ovens which seem large 
 enough for a veritable army. Under the archway that 
 leads to the main court are two large and interesting 
 frescoes by Antoniazzo Romano, which represent 
 Virginius Orsini and his family. The interior of the 
 castle has been carefully refitted with fine early Renais- 
 sance furniture, and though the mediaeval atmosphere 
 has been carefully preserved, the castle is now livable 
 and lived in. In an upper chamber we were shown 
 [415] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 one of the fantastic wrought-iron beds so much the 
 fashion in the Middle Ages, and the flower scroll- 
 work of this particular bedstead, which is said to 
 have belonged to the famous Isabella, was most 
 elaborate. 
 
 The view from the castle over the lake is superb, 
 and we have greatly enjoyed our day. *'Gigi," as 
 everyone calls Marchese Serra in Rome, is most kind 
 in interesting himself in my enthusiasm for the castles 
 and villas, and we are planning other trips a few days 
 hence. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day we have had another delightful trip to the 
 Castelli Romani; indeed, nearly every pleasant day finds 
 us motoring into the country in one direction or an- 
 other. A few days ago we went with Princess Eugenia 
 Ruspoli to her wonderful castle at Nemi, and had a 
 quiet luncheon with her. Afterwards we went all over 
 the stately mediaeval stronghold, and I took many 
 photographs. To-day we were of her large luncheon 
 party, and enjoyed the grim old fortress on closer 
 acquaintance even better than before. Of all the little 
 towns around Rome none has so completely kept its 
 mediaeval aspect. This is perhaps natural from the 
 very situation of the town, which is to one side of the 
 main road, and away from the beaten path of daily 
 travel; but as one follows the curving road that leads 
 from the main turnpike along the edge of a high wooded 
 [416] 
 
CASTELLO AND LAKE OF NEMI 
 
 SALON OF CASTELLO OF NEMI 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 hill, and approaches the stern, gray castle with its 
 round, forbidding-looking tower, one feels that one 
 must surely find a mounted guard of soldiers protect- 
 ing the great entrance doors, which open on to the 
 main street of the town. 
 
 The history of Nemi is clouded obscurely in the 
 most remote antiquity, and its origin must be conjec- 
 ture only. It is sometimes thought that its name is 
 derived from Nemus, a grove sacred to Diana, and it 
 is believed that on the border of the strange, mystical 
 lake that lies below the castle, there once existed a 
 temple to the favorite goddess of the wood, Diana, 
 since from the earliest times the smooth little sheet of 
 water has been called the speculum Diance. This lake 
 is three and a half miles around, and in some places 
 one hundred and ten feet deep. Its oval basin and the 
 precipitous wooded slopes of tufa and lava that sur- 
 round it, almost prove that it was once the actual 
 crater of a volcano. 
 
 As lava is the best possible fertilizer for vines, these 
 heights surrounding the lake have long been cultivated, 
 and produce wine that looks like molten gold ; its taste 
 is not secondary to its beauty, as we proved to-day, 
 when Donna Eugenia served it at luncheon, telling us 
 with evident pleasure that it had been made on her 
 estates. The lake is apparently fed by a subterranean 
 spring, and it has been discovered that at the bottom 
 are two magnificent Roman galleys thought to date 
 from the time of Caligula. In the fifteenth century 
 many attempts were made to raise them, without suc- 
 cess, but through the agency of divers, fragments of 
 wood and ornamental bronzes of exquisite manufacture 
 [417] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 have been brought to hght, and the existence of the two 
 galleys at the bottom of the lake is now indisputable. 
 Surely their recovery will be of great historical value, 
 and it now seems assured at an early date, since the 
 Minister of Public Instruction is adding his official 
 assistance to the wealth and enthusiasm of Princess 
 Ruspoli. 
 
 About the ninth century. Donna Eugenia tells me, 
 the place was called Massa Nemus, and was probably 
 in the possession of the sanctuary of St. Giambattista 
 of Albano, from which it passed to Agapito of the 
 Tusculum counts, and afterward to Oddone Frangi- 
 pane. Pope Anastasius IV gave the castle and town 
 to the Cistercian monks, who held it for some time; 
 later it was besieged by the Caetani Pope, Boniface 
 VIII, and given by him to Orso Orsini. In the four- 
 teenth century it was successively ruled by the Capi- 
 zucchi and Annibaldi families, and by the Colonna and 
 Cardinal d'Estouteville, in the fifteenth. The Borgia 
 Pope included Nemi among the various estates that 
 he bestowed upon his beautiful daughter Lucrezia, 
 but after his death the Colonna again seized it. During 
 the sixteenth century this treasured bit of nature was 
 in turn owned by the Cesarini, Piccolomini, and Cenci 
 families; but in 1572 the Frangipane again became 
 masters, and undoubtedly enlarged and amplified the 
 castle. It remained under the control of these lords 
 up to the time of 178 1, when the castle was sold to Don 
 Luigi Braschi (a nephew of Pius VI), who caused the 
 walls to be adorned with the series of frescoes by 
 Coccetti, which are very attractive for the reproduc- 
 tions which they give of Nemi in the eighteenth cen- 
 [418] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 tury. Vicenzo Monti, the secretary of Duke Braschi, 
 spent some time at Nemi, and in his '' Feroneide *' 
 admirably describes the attractions of the castle. 
 From the Braschi it passed in 1870 to Prince Don 
 Filippo Orsini. The castle, however, was probably 
 built by the Colonna, and its great round tower, which 
 is one of the " glories of Latium," gives it a very 
 austere and mediaeval aspect, especially when viewed 
 from the other side of the lake at a distance. Most 
 beautiful views are to be had, too, from the little gar- 
 den on the ramparts, which Donna Eugenia says she 
 has made out of "ruins and sand," so that now it 
 buds and blooms in true Italian beauty, and stately 
 peacocks add their brilliant coloring to the picture, for 
 no garden in Italy is complete without these graceful, 
 picturesque birds. Their wonderful plumage is like 
 everything in Italy — an exquisite harmony of color — 
 and their white sisters move about like fairy birds in 
 enchanted scenes. When we were walking through 
 one of these gardens this summer, watching the blue 
 and the white peacocks, a young Italian said to me: 
 *' Every woman should study a peacock. When a 
 woman can enter a room as that bird does the flower 
 garden, her bearing is perfected. Our Italian women 
 move well; do you not find it so? They surely have 
 good models in these graceful birds." Whether the 
 Italian women do really study their garden birds, I 
 do not know, but they have as graceful poise and 
 elegant bearing as any women I have ever seen. 
 
 Towards Genzano stands the villa of the Sforza 
 Cesarini, and the feuds which separated these two 
 castles are now forgotten. Donna Eugenia has put 
 [419] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 a world of study, thought, and expense into the careful 
 and appropriate refitting of the castle, and each of the 
 seventy rooms that she has furnished has its own 
 charm. Luncheon was served in the large room where 
 frescoes tell the story of the occupation of the Austrian 
 general Prince Lobkowitz, who, when he had been 
 defeated by the soldiers of Charles III before the walls 
 of Velletri, established his headquarters here. In one 
 of the bedrooms Donna Eugenia pointed out the 
 famous carved bedstead said to have been in the 
 nuptial chamber of one of the princes of the house of 
 Chigi, who, having married his bride under protest, 
 by order of his father, took an unfair and terrible 
 vengeance by strangling his beautiful bride the first 
 night after the wedding. Another room is completely 
 furnished in the Empire style, and the great throne 
 room is immense and imposing. 
 
 The party to-day included the Duchesse de Beau- 
 fort, Marquis and Marquise de Leysterie, the Com- 
 tesse Portalis, who was an American, the Marquise de 
 Talleyrand and her sister the Princesse di Poggio- 
 Suasa, both born Curtis of New York, and I could not 
 but notice that in this Italian of Italian castles not a 
 word of that beautiful language was spoken to-day at 
 luncheon. The aversion at home to foreign marriages 
 is quite incomprehensible to me, especially when I see 
 American women presiding so charmingly over such 
 historic and beautiful places as the Villa Lante and 
 Nemi. And it is very gratifying to find myself 
 the guest of a compatriot, who to-day is mistress 
 of this famous old castle, and has done, indeed, 
 not only a pleasing work for herself, but a good deal 
 [ 420 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 for art and for Italy, in the careful restoring and refit- 
 ting of this marvelous old stronghold of the Middle 
 Ages. As we walked about the ramparts after luncheon, 
 and looked over the lake, which seemed like a jewel 
 touched with the sun's rays, we could, through the 
 clear air, see straight away to the sea, for Nemi is some 
 ten hundred and forty-five feet above it. It is not sur- 
 prising that its picturesque situation, its beautiful lake, 
 together with its romantic history, should have inspired 
 Byron in this fashion: 
 
 "Lo, Nemi! navell'd in the woody hills 
 So far that the uprooting wind which tears 
 The oak from his foundation, and which spills 
 The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears 
 Its form against the skies, reluctant spares 
 The oval mirror of thy glassy lake; 
 And calm as cherished hate, its surface wears 
 A deep, cold, settled aspect naught can shake. 
 All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake." 
 
 His last lines may refer to the weird and awful rites of 
 the Nemi forest, and to the ancient legend that anyone 
 who entered this wood, supposed to be sacred to Diana 
 and her temple, was to be killed and sacrificed on 
 the altar; or he may have thought of the unfortunate 
 victims who were thrown from the projecting tower 
 at the right of the castle to their death below. A 
 chapel was built in a part of this tower as if to forever 
 expiate the memory of such barbarous deeds and times. 
 In the recent excavations a figure representing Diana, 
 goddess of the chase, was found, and a votive offering 
 to Diana for the health of the family of the Emperor 
 Claudius was discovered in one of the cells of the sup- 
 posed temple. 
 
 [421] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 The sunset scene that we were able to enjoy just 
 before starting back for Rome, was a color scheme not 
 soon to be forgotten. Near at hand is the lake, reflect- 
 ing the green of the surrounding trees; beyond, the 
 broad plain, turning to dull violet colors with the set- 
 ting sun, and stretching down to the strip of pale green 
 sea where, away in the distance, one spies Cape Circeo. 
 There is a distinct feeling of isolation from the world 
 at Nemi, and I cannot imagine a more beautiful place 
 in which to work, for the horrors of the modern tram 
 are here unknown, and once within the thick walls of 
 the castle one is sure of absolute quiet; though I must 
 admit to just the smallest bit of melancholy that seemed 
 to penetrate the atmosphere of this fascinating place. 
 The strawberries here are very famous, and the people 
 in the little village find a ready market for their fruit 
 in the surrounding towns and in Rome. The village 
 has little of interest beyond the tiny church of the 
 Crucifix, built by Mario Frangipane, to which shrine 
 came Pope Benedict XIV and Pius IX in bygone 
 da3^s. 
 
 We came back through the rather poor village of 
 Genzano, and as we waited for essence in the centre 
 of the town, we watched the peasant girls coming with 
 their picturesque water jugs to the central fountain in 
 the square. I sometimes wonder if we should be as 
 clean as these pretty peasant girls, if we had to carry 
 on our heads all the water we use. I am told that a 
 good many prisoners on probation are sent here, and 
 the district is thought to be rather desperate. Some 
 small boys threw handfuls of pebbles at the car, but it 
 seemed to me more in fun than in anger. I cannot 
 [422] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 understand how people can travel, believing themselves 
 always at variance with the peasants and the people of 
 the country through which they are passing; so far, 
 my experience has been that the peasants are very 
 pleasant people, and wonderfully patient with the 
 numerous automobiles that now rush back and forth 
 through their quiet towns. 
 
 We reached home in time for dinner, and this 
 evening have been to a magnificent reception given 
 by the Spanish Ambassador to the Vatican, Marquis 
 Ojeda. He has but recently presented his letters of 
 credence to His Holiness, and to-night was his first 
 reception. It was held very early in the evening, as 
 it was known that two or more of the Cardinals would 
 attend, and the venerable dignitaries of the Church 
 never keep late hours. However, eleven Cardinals, 
 each attended by two vested altar boys bearing lighted 
 candles, honored the Ambassador, and gave a vivid 
 touch of color to the already brilliant company. This 
 is the first time that I have seen the elder Princess 
 Lancellotti at any social function, for the Lancellotti 
 family is blackest of "The Black," and one of the few 
 to restrict itself absolutely to "Black" functions. It 
 was also one of the first times in Rome that ladies have 
 been permitted to attend a reception in low-necked 
 gowns where Cardinals were invited. I went carefully 
 prepared with a lace scarf, but I found all my friends 
 in decollete gowns, and several of the women among 
 the " Black " society were going on, later, to the ball that 
 the Princess Viggiano gave this evening in her beautiful 
 apartments in the Palazzo Altieri. It is only in Rome 
 that such a beautiful living picture as that we have 
 [423] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 enjoyed to-night at the Spanish Embassy is possible, 
 for nowhere else are the palaces so vast, the rooms so 
 high, and the society so decidedly cosmopolitan, and 
 certainly only in Rome can one see the stately Princes 
 of the Church assemble in so great a number in their 
 really regal costumes, which they wear with dignity and 
 pleasing grace. Princess Aldobrandini was looking par- 
 ticularly pretty this evening, and has arranged for me to 
 go to her far-famed villa at Frascati one day very soon. 
 The Viggiano ball was very jolly; I danced a great deal, 
 and Lieutenant Mietzl, the delightful Austrian military 
 attache with whom I talked music this evening, is com- 
 ing to play my accompaniments some afternoon soon. 
 I heard someone singing at a reception after a dinner 
 Madame Giorgi gave for me the other evening, and 
 after a moment I listened more to the accompaniment 
 than to the singer. Such a sympathetic, intelligent 
 pianist! *'Who is the accompanist?" I asked. "How 
 wonderfully he plays !" Later, Lieutenant Mietzl asked 
 for an introduction. He is extremely musical, and has 
 a decidedly attractive personalit}^ I think all Aus- 
 trians are fascinating. I have never met an unattrac- 
 tive Austrian, man or woman. Baron Di Paoli of the 
 Austrian Embassy in Berlin is another handsome man 
 who loves music and dances divinely, the famous 
 Count iEhrenthal, and those handsome guard officers 
 in Vienna, Counts Thun-Hohenstein, Schall, and Wol- 
 kenstein, the distinguished Count Fery Wenkheim, — 
 and, oh, so many others! They all seem to be intel- 
 ligent and clever, besides having an extra portion of 
 comeliness. I took tea with Princess Viggiano the 
 other afternoon. She was born a Princess of Bauffre- 
 [424I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ment, and her ancestors number many distinguished 
 men, soldiers and statesmen, in the history of France. 
 We enjoyed a dehghtful luncheon the other day with 
 Marchese and Marchesa di Rudini. Marchesa Dora's 
 villa is lovely, and she is one of Rome's prettiest young 
 matrons. Her husband is charming, and, like many 
 Sicilians, a very clever conversationalist in many lan- 
 guages. I also had a little chat with Prince Filippo 
 Doria, who arranged to come and play some of his 
 violin obligati with me. One would never dream that 
 the young Prince of this great Roman House was 
 an Italian, since his blue eyes and light blond hair 
 spoke eloquently of his English blood. His mother 
 was a sister of the Duke of Newcastle, and his father 
 also is the child of an English mother. Lady Mary 
 Talbot. 
 
 All the world has known and seen the wonderful 
 Villa Doria, built by the brilliant and clever Donna 
 Olimpia for her son Camillo during the reign of the 
 Pamphilj Pope, over whom she had so much influence. 
 The gardens are elaborate and beautiful, and the views 
 on all sides, particularly that looking toward St. Peter's 
 and the Vatican, are exquisite from this elevation. 
 The villa was built from designs of Falda, by Algardi, 
 and is filled with memorials of Olimpia, who made it 
 second to none in magnificence. Its ancient position 
 on the Janiculum is the site of the one-time gardens 
 of the famous Galba, and tradition says that the 
 murdered emperor was buried here by his devoted 
 slave Argius (a.d. 69). An ample park surrounds it, 
 and the sheep grazing on the green slopes recall Eng- 
 land, but I cannot agree with many authors that it 
 [425] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 resembles in any way an English country seat. Noth- 
 ing is more Italian than its scrolled and arabesque 
 formal garden, and at every turn ancient statues and 
 playing fountains remind us that we are in the land of 
 Italy, the land of many mountains whose eternal snows 
 made possible cascaded terraces and water art un- 
 equalled in the world. We have driven often through 
 this part in the afternoons of spring, and I like young 
 Prince Doria very much. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 This morning we have gone in still another direc- 
 tion over this ever increasingly interesting and wonder- 
 ful country surrounding Rome. We asked Monsieur 
 Olle-La-Prune of the French Embassy and a friend of 
 his to go with us. For some distance we followed the 
 Appian Way, passing through Albano and Genzano 
 again, going through Velletri, and on over the straight 
 Via Appia, leaving the picturesque mountain town of 
 Cori on our left and turning off a little beyond the 
 town of Cisterna di Roma. Princess Teano had kindly 
 provided me with permits for the great castle of Ser- 
 moneta, but we were so enchanted with the ruins of 
 the towers of Ninfa, that rise amidst a watery marsh, 
 which might almost be called a lake, that we deter- 
 mined to have luncheon where we could feast our eyes, 
 as well as satisfy our appetites. Then, too, we felt 
 that we should have the whole afternoon for a climb 
 to the great castle of the Caetani, which stands out 
 boldly on the top of a high hill directly behind Ninfa, 
 [426] 
 
zi::>rJ2^ ^- fflMi^ 
 
 MARCHESA DI RUDINI 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 and I was most desirous of going, also, to the little 
 town of Norma (famed in opera) perched on the side 
 of the high mountain near Ninfa's ruins. The history 
 of Sermoneta is most interesting. 
 
 That despotic and passionate Caetani Pope, Boni- 
 face VIII, was undoubtedly a highly gifted man, and 
 his nepotism was managed with extraordinary success, 
 for he left no stone unturned to found his family 
 dynasty. There was fierce indignation among the 
 Roman barons against the overbearing aggressions of 
 this Pope, whose family became suddenly and rapidly 
 so rich, and with riches, so powerful. He was contin- 
 ually at war with the powerful Colonna, who headed 
 the injured nobles of Rome in an attack against him. 
 He had taken advantage of the misfortunes of this 
 family, and though previous Popes had prohibited 
 the sale of estates on the Campagna to nobles of Rome, 
 he revoked this law in favor of his nephew Peter, and 
 Sermoneta, strongly situated on one of the spurs of 
 these Volscian Mountains, Norma, and Ninfa (the 
 ancient Nympha), estates which in ancient times had 
 been presented by the Byzantium Emperor Constan- 
 tine in 743 a.d. to Pope Zacharias, became the centre 
 of the Caetani dominion in Latium. Boniface, in the 
 name of the Church, confirmed his nephew in his pos- 
 session in perpetuity, as a fief of the family, prohibiting, 
 however, its being ceded under any title whatever to 
 the ex-communicated Colonna. Sermoneta, the Sul- 
 mona of ancient days, whose fortress now gives the 
 ducal title to the House of Caetani, was sold with Papal 
 sanction, together with the town of Bassano on the 
 other side of the mountain, and San Donato near 
 [427] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Terracina, to Peter Caetani, nephew of Boniface, in 
 1297 for thirty-four thousand gold florins. The town 
 of Bassano to-day gives the title of Prince of Bassano 
 to the second son of the House of Caetani. Peter had 
 also bought Ninfa, and the picturesque ruins we see 
 to-day are all that is left of the magnificent castle 
 built shortly after the acquisition from the Church. 
 The tall ruined tower clothed with ivy, standing up 
 boldly in the midst of a great marsh, surrounded with 
 numerous soft-colored water-plants, is probably a far 
 more beautiful picture than the austere castle of former 
 days ; for the property of Ninfa was one of the largest 
 in the whole of Latium, and stretched from the Volscian 
 Mountains across the marshes with its towers, its 
 country houses, its lakes and woods, down to the shore, 
 and even into the ocean for a hundred miles. Not only 
 did this great barony extend far out into the sea from 
 Ninfa to the Cape Circeo, but from Ceprano across 
 the mountains to Jenne and Subiaco. 
 
 The name of Caetani, before the celebrated Pope 
 of the family, is scarcely mentioned in Roman history. 
 With the death of their relative and Papal protector, 
 trouble and misfortune was hurled at the Caetani 
 family by succeeding Popes. Alexander VI (Borgia) 
 not only confiscated the property of the Colonna and 
 the Savelli, but began the establishment and aggran- 
 dizement of the Borgia house largely by means of the 
 Caetani properties. In 1499 Alexander, by a stratagem, 
 entrapped Giacomo Caetani, then the head of the 
 house, and by false sentence caused him to be pro- 
 nounced guilty of treason, when he promptly confis- 
 cated all the Caetani estates. Protestations were 
 [428] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 useless, and the unfortunate man was poisoned in the 
 castle Sant' Angelo the next year. Bernadino, the 
 youthful son of Niccolo Caetani, was murdered by 
 Caesar Borgia's bailiffs at Sermoneta, and it was only 
 with difficulty that the other son, Guglielmo, escaped 
 to Mantua. Papal troops occupied Sermoneta, which 
 afterwards became the property of Lucrezia Borgia, 
 and was given by the Pope to Roderigo, her two-year- 
 old son by the murdered Alfonso of Naples. Later 
 Caesar, her fearful brother, seized Sermoneta, saying: 
 "She is a woman and cannot defend it." In 1504, how- 
 ever, the wheel of fortune turned again. Julius II 
 became Pope, and hastened to annul the sentences 
 pronounced against the Caetani by Alexander VI, in a 
 special bull of restitution, January 24, 1504. Conserva- 
 tive Europe seems to marvel at the sudden rise and fall 
 of many of our American fortunes; but one has only to 
 turn the pages of Roman history from twelve to sixteen 
 hundred to find that the greatest names in the land, 
 the Colonna, the Caetani, the Borgia, and the Delia 
 Rovere, had their sudden rises of fortune, and their 
 more sudden falls. It would seem that the race of the 
 Caetani were not only exceptionally strong, but must 
 have been exceptionally clever, for through all their 
 vicissitudes of fortune, at one time, in the day of 
 Honoratius, apparently well-nigh ruined, they seem 
 to have bravely defended themselves. The great 
 castle of Sermoneta to-day, which is one of the most 
 majestic strongholds in Europe, certainly speaks elo- 
 quently of the brave men who built and defended it. 
 They have succeeded in holding it up to the present 
 time, for the Caetani are still rich, strong, and power- 
 [429] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ful, and it was the blind Duke of Sermoneta, who 
 was selected as the most prominent of Roman nobles 
 to present the plebiscite of the Roman people to the 
 new King of United Italy, Victor Emmanuel II, in 
 1870. This scene was vividly brought to my mind 
 by the excellent modern paintings that we saw in 
 Siena in the Palazzo Comunale. It was easier to 
 understand the great force and power of this family as 
 we went over the vast extent of this great castle. 
 Here were the immense barracks, large enough for a 
 veritable army of soldiers; the thick walls seemed 
 invulnerable, and from the high tower to which we all 
 bravely climbed. Count Peter could gaze far over the 
 distant mountains, plains, and ocean, and look only 
 upon his own. With nineteen fortresses in Latium, 
 thirty-two fortresses in the kingdom of Naples, with 
 carefully hoarded and shrewdly managed wealth, the 
 Caetani were indeed strong. One can get very little 
 idea of the extent of the old mediaeval castle in going 
 over such ruins as Loches in France; indeed, I had 
 never realized until coming to Sermoneta, what a 
 veritable citadel these mediaeval strongholds were. 
 There seemed to be no limit to the castle and its 
 adjoining buildings, and yet encircling the whole was 
 the massive wall, which again was protected by the 
 deep moat. The castle is not inhabited at the present 
 time, though sufficient conveniences are arranged for 
 a stay of a day or two, and a few rooms are fitted up 
 for the use of Don Gelasio, the youngest son of the 
 house, who is fond of coming here and studying the 
 old archives of the family. The present Duchess is 
 an Englishwoman, a sister of the Earl of Crawford. 
 [ 430 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Each of her four sons is talented and definitely in- 
 terested in some particular line of study. One is a 
 successful composer, and his compositions have been 
 given by orchestras of standing in Paris and London. 
 Don Gelasio is a mining engineer, and has travelled 
 extensively through our western country. 
 
 It was a steep climb, and a peasant on the road, 
 seeing that we were the expected foreigners, quickly 
 dismounted from his donkey, and hat in hand begged 
 me to mount his small beast, and let him take me to 
 the castle, which I was very glad to do, as the walk 
 is a long one, and I had still in prospect my excursion 
 to Norma afterward. 
 
 Though the Caetani fought and warred throughout 
 the Middle Ages with the powerful Colonna, to-day 
 the Princess Teano, wife of the eldest son of the Duke 
 of Sermoneta, bore before her marriage the historic 
 name of Vittoria Colonna. She is one of the hand- 
 somest woman in Rome — but like so many Italian 
 women, intelligent as well as beautiful — a perfect 
 type of Roman beauty, though she, as well as her 
 husband, has English connections, and the Princess is 
 very popular in London, where she usually passes the 
 season. She is a Lady-of-the-Palace to Queen Elena. 
 She has not only taken a kindly interest in my work, 
 but has given me a great deal of practical help, and 
 many of her suggestions will, I know, ease the difficul- 
 ties which are to be many, as I fully realize, in getting 
 together the pictures and exact historical accounts of 
 the families of my friends here in Italy. My Italian 
 friend of the other day, in referring to the peacocks as 
 models for women's carriage, may have been thinking 
 [431] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 of the Princess Teano, for she has unusually fine poise, 
 and a rather more stately bearing than is generally 
 seen in so young a woman. There is no question that 
 children of mixed blood have a keener intelligence and 
 brighter minds than others; and doubtless the high 
 standard of culture and intelligence as well as beauty 
 of physical form of the men and women of Italy (and 
 I may add those of my own country) is due to their 
 varied strains of blood. 
 
 To-morrow we are going to Frascati, and I will 
 write you later of our trip. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Villas and castles! Each day we see more and 
 more, all lovely, yet each with its own peculiar charm 
 and interest. 
 
 The road leading from Rome to Frascati passes 
 through one of the most picturesque parts of the 
 Campagna, and we had magnificent views of the great 
 Claudian Aqueduct, built in a.d. 52 by the Emperor 
 Claudius, to bring water from the neighborhood of 
 Subiaco. Historic and wonderful ruins line the whole 
 way, and I felt much more the influence of Ancient 
 Rome than that of Mediaeval Italy, though now 
 and again a ruined tower reminded us of robber- 
 baron days. As one approaches the town, however, 
 the magnificent villas recall the days of the luxurious 
 Princes of the Church. We felt this more definitely 
 as we came into the town of Frascati, for on the main 
 [432] 
 
PRINCESS OF TEANO 
 
 Born J' itt r i a C o ! o ti n a 
 Lady -of -t h e - Palace of II. M. Queen Elena 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 square fronts the wonderful Villa Aldobrandini, built 
 by the Cardinal of that family. 
 
 Frascati in latter days, and before it, Tusculum, 
 of which it was originally a suburb, may be spoken of 
 as the Versailles of Rome. Its situation on the slope 
 of the Alban Hills overlooking Rome is ideal. The 
 climate is, and evidently has always been, unusually 
 fine and seems to clearly explain the fame, first, of 
 Tusculum and its marvellous villas of the old Roman 
 days, and, later, of the princely palaces built for Popes 
 and Cardinals. The Villa Aldobrandini, to which we 
 went immediately on entering the town, is generally 
 considered, and undoubtedly is, the most beautiful of 
 all the numerous villas of Frascati to-day. 
 
 I believe so much in first impressions, and knowing 
 beforehand that I could not enter at the main gate 
 (which is always kept shut even to the Prince himself), 
 nevertheless I insisted upon motoring through the main 
 square which the villa overlooks, in order that I might 
 get the full beauty of the terrace scheme, which Giacomo 
 della Porta laid out in 1603 for Cardinal Pietro Aldo- 
 brandini, the nephew of Clement VIII. Della Porta 
 was the great Lombard who came after Vignola, and 
 did his last work in and about Rome. The story goes, 
 that of a summer evening when driving back to the 
 city with the Cardinal, he was taken so violently ill 
 from having dined not wisely but too well, that the 
 Cardinal was obliged to leave him at the Convent of 
 San Giovanni Laterano, where he died that night. 
 The villa was not entirely completed, and the last 
 touches were added by Fontana. It stands in a com- 
 manding position at the top of a succession of broad 
 [433] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 terraces, with the soft green background furnished 
 by the trees of the large park in the rear. Having 
 enjoyed the view evidently chosen by the designer of 
 the villa, we turned the motor up the hill, and entered 
 by the gate that leads to the back part of the building, 
 which, in a way, is more beautiful than the imposing 
 aspect from the front; indeed, I think that the beauties 
 of the rear of the Italian villa often exceed those of the 
 front which seem arranged so as to present to the world 
 an austere and elegant reserve, while after entering 
 the gateway, and once within the garden, the whole 
 effect becomes that of the cordial greeting of a host to 
 his guests. As the motor drew up before the great 
 doorway, the magnificent and curious iron gate, which 
 serves as a sort of protection to the great central door, 
 swung open, and the steward of the Prince came for- 
 ward to greet us, offering his services, and presenting 
 me with a large and beautiful bouquet of fresh spring 
 violets and jonquils. 
 
 The water art of the Villa Aldobrandini is arranged 
 in a semi-circular loggia. A carved inscription placed 
 like a frieze along the upper part of the hemicycle 
 tells us that this extravagant magnificence was made 
 possible by the subjection of the town of Ferrara to 
 Papal rule, the substantial income of the revenues of 
 this rich city being turned over to the Pope's relative. 
 A great alcove in the centre gives shelter to a giant 
 statue of Atlas, who holds the earth above him, though 
 the ocean seems to be always running out over his 
 head; and on looking up one sees a beautiful stairway 
 of foaming water, which is carried under this circular 
 loggia, and by its steep descent, forced up with this 
 [434] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 most artistic result. At one end of this marvellous 
 circular building is a chapel dedicated to the patron 
 saint of the family, St. Sebastian, decorated with 
 appropriate paintings; in the alcove on the other side 
 there was formerly an organ played by the water. A 
 hundred years ago or more, the last of the Aldobran- 
 dini left the family estates to the Borghese on condi- 
 tion that they should belong to the second brother, 
 who was to assume the Aldobrandini name. Don 
 Paolo Borghese, fearing the dampness, carried off 
 these frescoes, together with many paintings in the 
 palace, to the Borghese palace in Rome. 
 
 On either side of the central archway are other 
 arches where statues and fountains are artistically 
 disposed, while elaborately carved caryatides, rare 
 vases on carved marble pedestals, busts of emperors 
 placed high in curved niches, combine to make a superb 
 whole. Under the first archway we were shown a 
 spiral staircase, and soon found ourselves upon a balus- 
 traded roof of this marvellous water theatre; for, as 
 the actors in their niches are eternally inactive, so the 
 main part has been, and ever will be, enacted by the 
 ever-changing, ever-beautiful play of the fountains. 
 Not content with the view thus obtained from the 
 balustrade of his fairyland, the Cardinal arranged by 
 the side of his flight of water steps others which he him- 
 self could ascend, to a still higher terrace at the top of 
 which stand two immensely tall carved stone pillars. 
 The whole conceit is so arranged that you are allowed 
 to have one beautiful surprise at a time, and it is only 
 when you have reached the top of the terrace that you 
 are able to see the apparently natural waterfall, which 
 1 435] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 seems like a bridal veil in the midst of soft green ferns. 
 You are climbing the hill of Nature, and as you have 
 left the magnificent artificiality of the theatre, so the 
 disposition of the waters as you ascend seems to take 
 on the surroundings, which constantly become more 
 wild as you advance up the hill and into the park. 
 Leaving the dainty veil of water you wander on through 
 paths lined with wild daisies, and shaded by splendid 
 great plane trees, until you come to a sort of stone 
 bridge over which pours a foaming mass of water, 
 watched on either side by two statues placed in shell- 
 like grottoes, that seem to personify the gods of wood 
 and stream. 
 
 We were so perfectly attuned to the music of the 
 waters, and the fresh odors of spring, that we con- 
 cluded to continue our walk through the park, on over 
 the old Roman way up to the town, or all that remains 
 of what was the town, of Tusculum, at the present day 
 a part of the Aldobrandini property. The town dates 
 from the year 1360 B.C. Originally the Sabines were 
 here. The Etruscans are believed to have been here 
 five centuries before Rome, as Tusculum is distinctly 
 an Etruscan name. The people of Tusculum, accord- 
 ing to legend, gave their veneration to a peculiar and 
 severe god, Telegone, who allowed stepsons to marry 
 their stepmothers, and the murderer of a man to invari- 
 ably marry his widow. 
 
 As we made our way back from the cross, planted 
 where once stood the Arx or citadel of Tusculum, 
 through the great grove of oak and plane trees, it was 
 as if we were taking an entirely new walk, for the 
 reverse sequence of the fountains gave new and beautiful 
 [436] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 views. Arriving again at the villa, we were shown 
 through the series of interesting and beautiful rooms. 
 The large main salon, which is now used as a dining- 
 room in the villa, contains some fine tapestries by 
 Annesio di Barbara representing Parnassus and the 
 Muses; and a fine bronze bust of Clement VIII com- 
 memorates the fact that in his old age the Aldobrandini 
 Pope came often to this villa to stay with his nephew. 
 Some of the watercolors in the rooms were painted by 
 Kaisermann. The story is told how Goethe came to 
 the villa at the invitation of the Prince, met his fellow- 
 countryman, and ordered him to paint views of Frascati, 
 which are now to be seen in the room where Goethe 
 died in Weimar. Perhaps the most curious room in 
 the villa is the little sitting-room of the Princess, 
 which is hung with embroidered Chinese silks. This 
 must have been a special fancy of the Aldobrandini, 
 for when I visited the Princess a few days ago at her 
 palace in Rome, she received me in a similarly exquisite 
 room, complete in its Chinese decorations; walls and 
 furniture in elaborate embroidered silks, and all the 
 ornaments of rare Chinese porcelains. I took many 
 photographs, and we went on from here to the Villa 
 Torlonia, formerly known as the Villa Conti. 
 
 There are many reasons for thinking that this villa, 
 which belongs now to the Duke Torlonia, occupies the 
 site of the villa of LucuUus, that luxurious Roman, 
 who was glad to escape from the noise and confusion 
 of the great city of Rome to his superbly situated 
 country house, where he gave his famous banquets, and 
 surrounded himself only with his friends. Years ago 
 a tile with Lucius Lucullus' name inscribed upon it was 
 [437] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 found here, and thus it seems that this Torlonia villa is 
 the much-discussed location. Cato's villa was not far 
 away, at Monte Porzio, that of Pliny the Younger at 
 Centrone, and that of Cicero, or one of them, probably 
 at Grotta-Ferrata. One can imagine the luxurious 
 Romans coming to these sunny slopes, where the cool 
 breezes of the mountains made the Italian summer not 
 only endurable but comfortable, and as we read the 
 description of these vast summer homes, we can picture 
 the old Romans walking up and down the alleys of 
 fine tall trees, amusing themselves at the hippodromes, 
 completing their rest and reinvigoration in their per- 
 fected private baths, and at the end of the day dining 
 sumptuously on terraces overlooking one of the most 
 beautiful views in Italy. 
 
 The villa was originally owned by the Conti family, 
 from whom the Colonna claim to descend. The Conti 
 boasted their descent from Ottavius Mamilius, who, in 
 turn, was by tradition descended from Telegone, the 
 founder of Tusculum. Pietro Colonna, grandfather of 
 Frederick I, having been taken under the protection 
 of Eric IV of Suabia, took from his castle the name of 
 Zoellero, which was afterwards changed toHohenzollern; 
 therefore the Colonna claim to have thus founded the 
 reigning Imperial House of Germany. 
 
 The Conti incorporated the villa in 1703 in the 
 primogeniture of the family, and it was only in the 
 first quarter of the nineteenth century, through femi- 
 nine descent, that it passed to the Sforza-Cesarini, 
 and from that family by marriage to the present 
 owner, Duke Leopold Torlonia. 
 
 A long and imposing flight of steps leads from the 
 [438] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 driveway entrance up to a broad terrace, which, if fol- 
 lowed straight on, takes one through a grove of stately- 
 trees to another clearing, in the centre of which is a 
 great fountain surrounded by a circular succession of 
 niches and small fountains, now made beautiful by 
 age and tiny clinging ferns that grow seemingly from 
 the very stones. Back of this circular stone-work of 
 arches and fountains, in a cut between the great trees 
 of the side hill, tiny waterfalls come rushing down in a 
 curiously arranged succession of circular basins; and 
 if your curiosity is still unsatisfied, you may pass under 
 one of the archways, as at the Villa Aldobrandini, and 
 follow these basins in the shade of the great trees to a 
 stone balustrade which you spy at the top. As we 
 climbed the steps we were told the strange story of the 
 surprise fountain that always seems to burst upon one's 
 view at the top of these water terraces, and in each 
 instance is different from what one expects; for if one 
 looks for a cascade it is sure to be a spraying fountain, 
 dashing high into the air; and if, from the previous 
 water arrangements, you feel it must be a waterfall in 
 order to give force enough for the fountains below, the 
 magician has thought differently. There seems to be 
 no end of devices in this water art; indeed, these 
 villas at Frascati were famous for their secret fountains, 
 and only the wise gardener or the master of the house 
 knew where to press exactly the right spot in the 
 gravelled walk which, when given the proper pressure, 
 would cause to come forth from the neighboring banks 
 minute spraying streams of water that would cool the 
 air, and scarcely more than moisten the clothing. 
 I remember that at the Villa Rostand at Genoa, the old 
 [439] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 gardener who showed us about gave us many examples 
 of these fairy water-works; but I think this Genoese 
 villa is one of the few that have kept in order all the 
 secret pipes for this water-play. It is amusing when 
 you are forewarned, but it must be highly disagreeable 
 to be walking along and be confronted suddenly with a 
 jet of water springing up directly under your nose. On 
 the other hand, the tiny, fine sprays of water that came 
 from the ground in the vine-covered wings of the little 
 garden theatre at the Villa Rostand, must have been 
 distinctly cooling of a hot afternoon. 
 
 But to return to the fountain of the Villa Conti- 
 Torlonia. It is said that a monk once committed 
 suicide by drowning himself in its waters, and as a 
 penance for his sin his shadow is doomed to ever roam 
 about the fountain in the moonlight, and the peasants 
 will tell you that they have often seen the penitent 
 friar approach the fountain, read his breviary, finger 
 his rosary, and then disappear into the water. As we 
 saw the villa in all the beauty of its new spring green 
 in the bright sunshine, ghosts were not to be thought 
 of, and we only regretted that we could not accept the 
 Duke and Duchess' kind invitation to come back to 
 Frascati in the autumn, when they will be here, and 
 occupy the charming house which stands at one side, 
 in a position to enjoy the magnificence of the view 
 toward Rome, but in a place which does not in any 
 way interfere with the complete woodland and water 
 scheme, which seems, and is properly, by itself. 
 
 From the villa Torlonia we went, thanks to the 
 courtesy and permission of the Princess Lancellotti, to 
 her villa, the entrance to which is just at one side 
 [440] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of the main entrance of the Villa Aldobrandini. This 
 villa was originally designed by Carlo Fontana for 
 Monsignor Alfonso Visconti. It was afterward sold 
 to Cardinal Fernando Gonzaga, afterward Duke of 
 Mantua; and later it became the property of Robert 
 Primo, whose daughter married into the Piccolomini 
 family (as an inscription over the entrance to the 
 villa records: Petrus Piccolomineus, Anno mdcclxiv), 
 in whose possession it remained until 1840, when it 
 was sold again to a Bavarian, Francesco Mehlen. In 
 1867 it was bought by the present owner, Prince Don 
 Filippo Lancellotti. 
 
 The villa is fronted with a large formal garden 
 beautifully laid out, at the end of which is a circular 
 loggia surmounted with a balustrade and statues, after 
 the manner of the Aldobrandini, while huge ornamental 
 pots filled with young orange and lemon trees line the 
 walks. The large statue of Apollo, as well as that of 
 Venus and one or two others in the side niches 
 of this really beautiful circular garden decoration, 
 were sculptured by Marchetti of Carrara, in whose 
 studio young Canova was working at the time. It 
 was in this circular loggia that Cardinal Baronius 
 wrote his "History of the Church," and Carlo Eman- 
 uele IV, King of Sardinia, Pio VII, and many more 
 illustrious names are among the lists of visitors to this 
 beautiful villa. While not so elaborate as the great 
 loggia of the Villa Aldobrandini, this of the Lancellotti 
 garden is quite as beautiful in its fine proportions. 
 A huge clock is placed in the centre over Apollo, and 
 small statues at intervals line the balustrade at the top. 
 The gardens were a mass of blooms to-day, and I had 
 [441] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 great fun trying to persuade one of the peacocks to be 
 photographed with his wonderful tail spread in all its 
 glory. I think I have been successful. We shall 
 come many times to Frascati, but I doubt, even then, 
 if we shall see all of its beauties. 
 
 Rome, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have been to-day to see the wonderful old 
 castle of the Massimi family at Arsoli. Prince Massimo 
 had carefully prepared for my visit; his agent met us 
 directly on our arrival in the town, and courteously 
 showed us all over this rocky citadel; for the castle, like 
 many others in these jagged Sabine Mountains, is 
 situated right on the top of a projecting spur which 
 commands a view the length and breadth of the valley, 
 and the Prince has kindly told me much of the history 
 of his famous old stronghold. 
 
 It seems that in the year looo, under the pontificate 
 of Silvestro II, the castle of Arsoli is said to have be- 
 longed to the Benedictines, and it is thought that this 
 is the legendary castle where the Abbot of Subiaco 
 was imprisoned and put to death by the tyrant of 
 Monticelli. 
 
 The Papal armies, passing back and forth from 
 Tagliacozzo, which lies just beyond and above Arsoli in 
 the Abruzzi Mountains, left little in the town but ruins 
 and poverty, and that little was made less when the 
 town was made a garrison for the Spanish and German 
 soldiers, marching against the ecclesiastical state. Things 
 continued in this way until Fabrizio de' Massimi, foUow- 
 [442] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 ing the counsels of the family saint, San Filippo Neri, ac- 
 quired the seigniory. The three hundredth anniversary 
 of the proprietorship of the Massimi family of Arsoli 
 was celebrated with great festivities in 1874. Under the 
 Massimi family the town recovered its lost prosperity, 
 and Giacomo della Porta gave his skilful aid to the 
 enlarging of the church and general betterment of the 
 place. Water was brought to the town from the famous 
 Acqua Marcia, that flows from the snow mountains of 
 the Abruzzi near Arsoli. 
 
 The legend of San Filippo Neri continues around the 
 castle of Arsoli as well as about the great Massimo pal- 
 ace in Rome ; for the story is told how Fabrizio de' Mas- 
 simi wished to take his two sick sons to his mountain 
 property, thinking that the high air of the hills would 
 benefit them after the heat of July in Rome. Doctors 
 were called, and protested that to move the invalids 
 would be sudden death. Fabrizio, unconvinced, sought 
 the advice of the family saint, who urged the departure 
 for Arsoli at the earliest possible moment. The saint 
 was obeyed, and receiving the benediction the following 
 day the family set forth. The account goes on to say 
 that only four miles from Rome one of the boys left his 
 litter, mounted his horse, and rode to the mountain 
 castle, as if perfectly well, while the other son soon 
 recovered in the snow-cooled breezes from the Abruzzi 
 Mountains. 
 
 The son of Fabrizio, Pietro, gathered in this castle 
 all possible arms and cannon for his protection, and 
 to-day it was interesting to walk through the old 
 armory where a few of the small cannon, and countless 
 bludgeons, spears, and other weapons of mediaeval 
 [443] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 warfare give ample proof of the savage times through 
 which the castle has passed. 
 
 The fair of Arsoli (la fiera) on St. Bartolomeo*s 
 Day is one of the oldest festivals held throughout the 
 Roman provinces. The Sambuche and Arsoli wines 
 which are made in this vicinity have at least a local 
 renown. The reason for the holy protection of St. 
 Bartolomeo seems to be lost in the obscurity of past 
 centuries. The church dedicated to him is joined to a 
 Franciscan convent of the third order. St. Francis 
 is believed to have passed this way, and the Arsolani 
 tell us that the holy man of Assisi laid the foundation 
 stone of the ancient monastery. According to Litta, 
 in 1686 Fabrizio took the title of Marquis, and assumed 
 the name of Camillo, which all princes of the House of 
 Massimo, regardless of baptismal name, must assume 
 when they come into the title. In 1733 Filippo 
 Camillo entertained James III of England and the 
 Royal Family with festivities suitable to the rank of 
 such high personages. It is said of this prince of the 
 House of Massimo that he lived in constant fear of 
 being run over, and consequently, would never walk 
 upon the street; but by a contrary fate, on returning 
 home from the theatre, he was knocked down by the pole 
 of a carriage as he was entering his house, and killed. 
 
 Marchese Camillo Massimo in 18 17 was the last of 
 the Roman barons to renounce to the pontifical states 
 his feudal rights and full jurisdiction over Arsoli. At 
 this time Cristina, daughter of Prince Saverio of 
 Saxony, was married to Marchese Massimo, and 
 naturally, the town benefited by the frequent visits of 
 many illustrious personages through this Royal con- 
 [ 444 ] 
 

 *^^rx^-*^t-^^^f*^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^A^^rrvc J^A^i'^^ ^ 
 
 PRINCE AND PRINCESS D ARSOLI AND SON 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 nection. It was this Royal lady who laid out the gar- 
 dens, which are beautiful even to-day, and make the 
 steep hillside at the back of the castle, lined with 
 pines, cypresses, and acacia trees, a charming walk 
 of a summer afternoon; and the severe box of the 
 formal Italian garden encloses endless flowers and 
 rare blooming plants. 
 
 It was the present Carlo Camillo who brought from 
 the baths of Diocletian the grea statue of Minerva, 
 which is placed at the highest point in the hillside 
 garden. Princess Cristina seems to have been very 
 religious; she founded a dispensary and the tiny 
 pharmacy of the castle is probably due to her energy 
 and goodness. Under the pontificate of Leo XII, in 
 June, 1826, Marchese Massimiliano, his family, and 
 descendants were raised to the rank of Prince, and 
 his eldest son honored with the title of Prince of 
 Arsoli. 
 
 On the sixteenth of March we went to the great 
 reception held in the Palazzo Massimo, and made 
 our yearly pilgrimage to the famous little chapel of 
 St. Filippo Neri, of whom I have written you before. 
 I have enjoyed meeting and knowing the Princess of 
 Arsoli this winter; her mother was Miss Hickson- 
 Field of New York, and became as Princess Brancaccio 
 Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Margherita. It was very 
 amusing to-day in going over the old castle to see at 
 one end, the apartments of the Princess Massimo 
 (who was born a Princess Lucchesi Palli), where the 
 ancient bath is arranged in the Roman fashion, steps 
 leading down into a marble basin, while the water is ad- 
 mitted from an almost invisible entrance at the bottom. 
 [445] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 In the dressing-room were the most wonderful copper- 
 lustre bowl and pitchers, and a general air of bygone 
 days was very apparent. Crossing the castle through 
 the dining-room, hung with tapestries, and furnished 
 with old Italian carved chairs, through the salon with 
 its big Venetian glass chandeliers, and its wonderful 
 view across the hills, we came to the American Princess 
 of Arsoli's apartments. Out of the dressing-room was 
 the most modern of modern bathtubs, and all newly 
 fitted and arranged conveniences of twentieth century 
 comfort. Even into Arsoli, quaint, historic, austere 
 Arsoli, the American influence has gone, and with it pro- 
 gression and the ideas of the New World. The family 
 come here in the late summer, and remain well into the 
 autumn, and again our invitation must be declined. 
 It would be indeed fascinating to come to Arsoli for a 
 few days, for there seems to be more interesting history, 
 more of the real atmosphere of the Middle Ages than 
 I have had elsewhere in this broad Campagna. Here 
 indeed, we may really see types of the ancient Sabel- 
 lians, for nothing can be more Italian, strictly speaking, 
 than the towns of the Sabine Hills, among which 
 Arsoli has been pre-eminent. 
 
 Gregory XVI made a formal visit to the castle of 
 Arsoli on May 2, 1834, and the festivities at that time 
 are still talked of by the enthusiastic inhabitants. All 
 the great Princes of the Eternal city gathered in the 
 castle, and the account tells with evident pride of the 
 "wonderful harmonization of three great bands of 
 music," while the Pope's approach was welcomed by 
 all the children dressed in white scattering flowers and 
 palms before his feet. 
 
 [446] 
 
THE ARMORY OF THE CASTELLO OF 
 A R S O L I 
 
 TOWN AND CASTELLO OF ARSOLI 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 In 1873 the present Prince, Don Carlo Camillo, be- 
 came Prince Massimo, and his interest in the town seems 
 to be not less than that of his predecessors. The Prin- 
 cess, the daughter of Her Royal Highness Maria Caro- 
 lina di Borbone and Duke Carlo Lucchesi Palli Campo 
 e Pignatelli, is much beloved in her adopted city; and 
 the daughter of the house, Contessa Zileri, has made 
 her charitable and kindly presence felt at all times 
 among the poor and needy of the town. 
 
 Not far from Arsoli is the little hill town of Sambuci 
 to which even to this day no carriage road has ever been 
 built. We courageously made the ascent the other 
 day on donkey-back to see the strange old square- 
 towered castle, that for many years belonged to the 
 Benedictines and the Abbot of Subiaco. Documents 
 of the family have been given me by the charming 
 Countess Ciciliano (the name of this town in the Sabine 
 Mountains, from which the Countess takes her title, 
 is thought by some to have given the name to Sicily), 
 who took tea with me the other day, and expressed 
 great interest in my enthusiasm for these old castles 
 of Italy. Undoubtedly the castle was built before 
 971 A.D., as a stone in the walls of the monastery of 
 Santa Scolastica in Subiaco seems to verify. It fell 
 under the dominion of the Tiburtini (people of Tivoli), 
 who in 1300 ceded it to the Royal Family of Antiochia. 
 An old legend says that Corradino of Suabia after his 
 defeat at Tagliacozzo took refuge here in the castle of 
 Sambuci, and the legend seems to be founded on fact 
 since the castle belonged at that time to his uncle, 
 Corrado of Antiochia, and it is this latter personage 
 who gave his name to the neighboring town of Anti- 
 [447] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 coli Corrado, from which we have our delicious drink- 
 ing water (Fuiggi). Sambuci also is in direct line 
 from Tagliacozzo where Corradino was betrayed by 
 the Frangipani. The castle passed later to the Orsini, 
 to the Zambeccari of Bologna, and in the last century 
 to the Piccolomini. To-day it is in the possession of 
 the Theodoli, the branch of the second son, whose title 
 is that of Ciciliano. 
 
 Pope Innocent X (Pamphilj) included Sambuci in 
 the feudal rights of the famous Donna Olimpia, a sis- 
 ter-in-law of the Pontiff, who for many years held such 
 an unparalleled sway over Rome, and whose accumu- 
 lated riches and influence during the Papacy of the 
 Pamphilj Pope were well-nigh supreme. Donna Olim- 
 pia came to Sambuci for many summers, and by her 
 riches and energy made it one of the most attractive of 
 the neighboring castles of Latium. 
 
 Olimpia Maidalchini was born in 1594 in Viterbo. 
 Her family had intended her to be a nun, but though 
 she had been taken to a convent as a child she had 
 the strength of character to resist taking the veil, and 
 finally secured her dismissal by announcing that all 
 the confessors made love to her. Her first husband, 
 Paolo Nini, a noble of Viterbo, died soon after marriage, 
 and she later married Pamfilio Pamphilj, a soldier who 
 seems to have been less important in her life (for he 
 died not long after, leaving her three sons) than her 
 brother-in-law, the melancholy abbe. She was forty- 
 five before much was known of her, but she had already 
 acquired, by her optimism and cleverness, an almost 
 complete control over the melancholy Pamphilj prelate, 
 who found her very necessary to his counsels and welfare 
 [448] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 throughout his whole papacy. The last time that 
 Innocent X left the Vatican in 1654 was when he was 
 carried to Donna Olimpia's garden in the Trastevere. 
 Olimpia tried to conciliate the succeeding Pope; she 
 sent him gold vases and even asked to be allowed to 
 kiss his feet, but the Chigi Pope sent back the presents 
 with the message that the Vatican was not the place 
 for women. Her rule of splendor was over, and she 
 passed her remaining days in her villa near Viterbo. 
 
 The Countess Ciciliano tells me that the neighbor- 
 ing summit of Saracinesco takes its name from the fact 
 that Virginio Orsini, returning to his principality of 
 Vicovaro from the service of the Emperor, having 
 taken part in the war against the Turks, permitted 
 numerous Saracen prisoners that he had brought with 
 him to take the lands on the summit of the mountain 
 at the left of the Anio. Many of the families in the 
 little hamlet of Saracinesco to-day, the Margutti, 
 Morgante, and others, claim to descend directly from 
 the old Saracen colonists. This is interesting because 
 it differs widely from other accounts. 
 
 On our way home the air was quite cold, for there 
 is another climate in these bleak Sabine Hills, but we 
 stopped for a belated tea in a funny little hotel in 
 Tivoli, where they gave us a luscious cake which we 
 were told was a specialty of the town. The padrone 
 of the house expatiated on the number of eggs taken 
 to make the cake, and it was yellow enough for us to 
 believe him. We have been back and forth through 
 Tivoli many times, and one day we spent the whole 
 afternoon amidst fern-grown ruins and fountains of 
 that enchanted Villa d' Este. 
 [449] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 But I have promised to write you mostly of the 
 villas and great country seats that have not passed 
 into the romantic shades of ruin and bygone days, 
 and much as I love the Villa d' Este and its beautiful 
 fountains, its wonderful views and its enchanting 
 atmosphere, I shall leave its description for you to 
 read in the pages of many other volumes. 
 
 I had a charming meeting with Mon. Carolus Duran 
 and his wife a few days ago, and we are going to spend 
 tomorrow evening with them at the Villa Medici, to 
 which this celebrated artist, now the Director of the 
 French Academy, has given me permission to come as 
 often as I like, and enjoy the wonderful gardens and 
 their precious as well as remarkable contents. 
 
 T. 
 
 Rome, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 I have just come in, and rushed past all my 
 friends, past the indefatigable tziganes musicians, in 
 order to be quiet and keep, in all its fascination and 
 charm, the souvenir of the evening I have just passed 
 at that magical Villa Medici, with the Durans. Chat- 
 ting of his work, of the history of the villa, pointing 
 out to me the marble busts of the various directors 
 of the great French Academy who have rendered such 
 valuable services to art here at this famous villa, 
 Mon. Duran proved himself the most delightful of 
 hosts, and over the teacups our conversation wan- 
 dered back to the events of the winter, and from the 
 present-day festivities one could not but recall that 
 [450] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 on this very spot where now stands this monument 
 to the taste, power, and glory of Cardinal Ferdinand 
 of Medici, there once stood the great Hall of Apollo, 
 where LucuUus feasted Cicero and Pompey at a cost 
 of fifty thousand drachmae. We have walked here 
 often in the afternoon, for the great slope to which 
 the aged Senator Pincius gave his name is still the 
 favorite park and afternoon sojourn of the Romans 
 of to-day. The gardens are built over the very walls 
 of Rome, and near here stood the Sallust Villa, which 
 was destroyed by the entering Goths. To the world 
 in general the villa is opened but twice a week, but it 
 has been our pleasant privilege to come here as often 
 as we liked, and wander through the myriad perfumed 
 paths, enjoying all the fresh essence of spring in 
 these ideal surroundings. In 1540 Cardinal Ricci had 
 laid the first stone of the new and beautiful villa, but its 
 completion and perfecting were left to that Prince of the 
 Church, who, like all of his race, had magnificent Ideas, 
 and magnificent resources with which to realize them. 
 Made a cardinal at fifteen, young Ferdinand became the 
 guiding hand in the papal states during the reign of 
 Gregory XIII, and when called to be Grand Duke of 
 Tuscany by the death of his brother Francesco, about 
 which jhere are legends to which I have previously 
 referred, an Italian author speaks of him: 
 
 "If Florence rejoiced at the coming of her Prince, 
 Rome groaned at losing him. His disinterested char- 
 acter and his far-seeing intelligence made him looked 
 upon as the most powerful personage in Rome." 
 With the Cardinal's departure for his beloved Flor- 
 ence departed also the glories of the Villa Medici, and 
 [451] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 as one Grand Duke succeeded another he took from 
 the glories of his Roman estate in order to add to 
 those of Florence. The "Mercury," the famous 
 "Niobe," and the Medici vase, with many pictures, 
 left Rome never to return. 
 
 Even the Venus de' Medici was exiled to Florence 
 because Innocent XI, in the one short month of his 
 reign, protested to the people that the statue was 
 an offence to modesty and morality. The immortal 
 Galileo found an asylum here at the time when he was 
 made to suffer before the Inquisition in 1634, ^^^ i^i 
 gratitude for his asylum named the newly discovered 
 satellites of Jupiter "Stars of the Medici." Queen 
 Maria de' Medici, the consort of Henry IV of France, 
 lived a part of her young life among these beautiful 
 surroundings, and with the fading away of the great 
 House of Medici in 1737 the Dukes of Lorraine and 
 Austria became masters of Tuscany. 
 
 Too much is known of the artistic fame of the pres- 
 ent Director of the French Academy for me to add 
 more than my admiration of his work and wonderful 
 portraits. Each year adds to his artistic creations, 
 and I have passed a delightful evening talking of art 
 and artists. There is a fascination and charm in the 
 conversation of French people that scarcely has its 
 parallel. There is a facility of expression, a euphony, 
 together with an exactitude, that always seems clearly 
 defined in the French language, that makes it a joy to 
 listen to and a joy to speak. 
 
 The Villa Medici and its surroundings were seized by 
 Napoleon, and an act of May 18, 1803, has the signature 
 of the First Consul of the Republic, reserving the whole 
 [452] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 place for the benefit of the French Academy, founded 
 originally by Louis XIV (1648), at the initiative of 
 the Minister, Colbert. Famous names are written on 
 the long line of marble busts on the walls of the great 
 tapestried salons through which we passed to-night: 
 Gaspart, Vernet, Fragonard, David, Ingres, Corot. 
 To-day there are twenty-four students, who, having 
 gained the Prix de Rome, are allowed to come here and 
 live for four years; they are furnished with a studio 
 and allowance, besides extra sums for materials and 
 travelling. The great library hung with exquisite 
 gobelins, as indeed are the other rooms of the castle, 
 is decorated with a statue of Louis XIV, the donor 
 of these precious fabrics, which were made in France 
 from designs by Raphael. 
 
 Nothing in Rome surpasses the view from the 
 exquisite little belvedere through which leads a walk 
 entirely canopied and enclosed on either side by closely 
 clipped ilexes, and many and wonderful are the Ital- 
 ian sunsets we have seen from this little tempietto of 
 Nature. 
 
 " Filled with the face of heaven, which, from afar, 
 Comes down upon the waters; all its hues, 
 From the rich sunset to the rising star 
 Their magical variety diffuse: 
 And now they change; a paler shadow strews 
 Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting Day 
 Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues 
 With a new color as it gasps away, 
 The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 453 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 But to-night as we bade good-bye to our host and 
 hostess, and the massive door of beaten iron clanged 
 together, the moonhght flickered across the open 
 courtyard and caught the jets of the rising water from 
 the fountain in the centre. The perfumes of the ole- 
 anders and magnolias made the air heavy. The statue 
 of the dreaming Eros could be discerned but dimly, 
 and as I stepped down, between the two great lions, 
 on to the gravelled walk, the roses that enclose the 
 beautiful Apollo seemed to send me their still more 
 delicate and ephemeral odors. Ever the fountain 
 splashed on and on over its wonderful water plants, 
 and as the moon went on her way, the stars grew 
 brighter and more numerous. I was indeed surrounded 
 by the beauties of Italy, but the atmosphere of 
 France was paramount, and I seemed to hear through 
 the music of the fountain, the soft running notes of 
 Gabriel Faure's, "Au Claire de la Lune/' and to under- 
 stand more clearly than ever before the mystic 
 melody of that poetical musician. Others of his mel- 
 odies, "Extase," and the general sense of his musical 
 thought, came home to me more realistically than 
 ever before. The memory of the Villa Medici will 
 always be one of moonlight, of rippling fountains, of 
 sweet perfumes, and soft evening breezes. I entered 
 my carriage as if in a trance, and fled from the 
 clanging tziganes to be at peace with you and my 
 pen. Italy, Italy! Surely I can sing with Byron 
 to-night: 
 
 "Italia, thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty." 
 
 T. 
 
 [ 454 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Rome, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 Dr. Shearer persuaded us to go down to-day to 
 Ostia ("River Mouth"), to which there is no railroad, 
 but which we found easily with the motor. We 
 came not so much to see the ruined town with its 
 picturesque columns, as to go over the many-sided 
 castello which Julius II (when he was Cardinal della 
 Rovere) had built by Baccio Pontelli and Giulio da 
 Sangallo in 1483. Peruzzi is supposed to have adorned 
 it with frescoes, of which now no trace remains. From 
 whichever point you approach the castle, its walls 
 seem to be at an angle, and we climbed to the tower, 
 from which there is an extensive and beautiful view 
 over the Campagna and toward the sea. We could 
 see plainly the Castel Porziano, the Royal Hunting- 
 lodge, in the midst of a beautiful pine forest, where 
 the King and Queen often come in spring for a few 
 days' rest in the country after the fatigue of a Roman 
 season. In summer the Royal Family generally go 
 to Valdierl, the Royal farm, near Turin, where the 
 Queen often dispenses with her Lady-in- Waiting and 
 lives an absolutely simple out-of-door country life. 
 These are happy months for the King and Queen, 
 when they can be absolutely free from the arduous 
 duties of the court. No one by any chance is 
 received, and there Is nothing but Nature, sunshine, 
 flowers, and a complete rest; and I am told that 
 Their Majesties look forward with keen anticipation to 
 these six weeks every year in the country. The late 
 summer and autumn months are usually passed at Rac- 
 [455] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 conigi, also near Turin. The chateau dates from the 
 time of Henry IV of France, but there are walls of 
 stone which recall a more ancient period. Racconigi 
 was originally a monastery, but was afterwards a for- 
 tress of considerable importance. In the sixteenth 
 century it was converted into a palace, and it is only 
 in late years that an attempt has been made to equip 
 the interior with the comforts and luxuries of the 
 present day. It was the favorite residence of Charles 
 Albert.^ The park and gardens were designed by Le 
 Notre, and Queen Elena is very fond of Racconigi and 
 with her children enjoys riding and other out-of-door 
 amusements in the park. It was at Racconigi that 
 the little Prince of Piedmont was born, and it occu- 
 pies with the Royal Family of Italy a similar place 
 to that of Sandringham with Queen Alexandra of 
 England. 
 
 But to return to Ostia. The town lost its impor- 
 tance when Pope Paul V reopened the right arm 
 of the Tiber at Porto in 1612. Under Leo IV the 
 Saracens in 847 sustained a signal defeat here, which 
 Raphael has represented in his wonderful Stanze in 
 the Vatican. After going over the castle of the war- 
 like Julius, we went on to see the ruins of the 
 ancient city. The colonnaded court, what was once 
 the Forum, the substructure of a temple, are all 
 interesting, but most picturesque is the well-preserved 
 and fine ancient street, with rows of pillars on each 
 side, which leads to a handsome and conspicuous 
 temple, the only edifice of ancient Ostia that remained 
 unburied throughout the Middle Ages. 
 
 ^ King of Sardinia, father of Victor Emmanuel II. 
 [456] 
 

 -9 
 
 t,;,^ /, '■- . 
 
 ^ ^. v^ ..171 
 
 THE PRINCE OF PIEDMONT, PRINCESSES 
 JOLANDA AND MAFALDA 
 
 THEIR MAJESTIES THE KING VICTOR 
 EMMANUEL III AND QUEEN ELENA 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 To-night we had a very jolly dinner. F. B. had 
 asked Dr. Shearer, and I had invited a number of 
 other friends, Prince Bartolomeo RuspoK, the Duke of 
 Rivera, who has offered us kindly assistance in our 
 journeys in the Abruzzi Mountains, where he has 
 castles, and a charming and celebrated young Ital- 
 ian author, Signor Diego Angeli. Signor Angeli is 
 one of the most cultured of Italian literati, and I 
 have enjoyed my talks with him so much this winter. 
 F. B., too, has appreciated his company, as he speaks 
 delightful English. I was not quite so conspicuous 
 as you might think, as the one woman of this circle 
 of men, but the dinner was hastily arranged, and there 
 was not time for me to make up a table formally. 
 In any case this sort of dinner is often given by the 
 hostesses of Rome, and I enjoyed the conversation of 
 these clever men very much. 
 
 T. 
 
 457] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Naples, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 ONCE again our partings and good-byes were 
 made somewhat easier from the fact that 
 Dr. Shearer, our charming EngHsh friend, 
 who won from the Oxford University a 
 fellowship, and who has been some ten years or more 
 following out his scientific studies at the wonderful 
 Aquarium of Naples, decided to go with us from Rome 
 to Naples, where he has a charming villa. I am 
 looking forward to seeing his island home, for the 
 photographs he has shown me of its fantastic approach 
 in a little chair, which is swung by pulleys on an iron 
 rope, from the shore across the sea to the landing-place 
 on the island, looks unique and interesting in the 
 extreme. It seemed as if my P.P.C. cards would never 
 be finished, but with patience all things are possible, 
 and at last they are done. My good-byes to beloved 
 Rome are made, and numerous promises to return 
 given. 
 
 Naples we have found fascinating and delightful 
 as ever. Dr. Shearer carried us off to a restaurant 
 to-day, on the hills above Posilipo, where he gave 
 us wonderful wine, which F. B. appreciated better 
 than I. 
 
 This afternoon we drove out to Solfatara to see 
 
 the famous amphitheatre, which is one of the best 
 
 preserved in existence, and where one can see the 
 
 arrangements for the ancient mimic naval battles 
 
 [458] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 better than anywhere else, the great holes through 
 which water was allowed to come, being in better 
 preservation than elsewhere. We also walked over 
 the steaming ground of the now quiet crater of the old 
 volcano of Solfatara, and the guard started the whole 
 place in smoke and flames, by lighting a match close 
 to the little puffs of smoke that come constantly from 
 the side hill. It was very interesting, but a little too 
 calorific to be really amusing, and we did not linger. 
 The ground sounds hollow in every direction, but the 
 only recorded eruption from this place of fearful 
 appearance was in the year 1198. 
 
 The visit to the villa was interesting and exciting, 
 and it has been pleasant to find Count Cesnola here 
 with Dr. Shearer. They are great friends and are 
 living together. The doctor has cordially asked us to 
 come and stay with him, but we are eager to get to 
 Palermo in time for the automobile race, and must 
 leave here soon direct for Palermo. We have seen 
 with Dr. Shearer's guidance a great many interesting 
 churches, monuments, and unusually interesting things 
 that the average traveller misses, and that are not 
 found in guide-books. Possibly I shall have time to 
 write to-morrow. We shall probably have an audi- 
 ence with T.R.H. the Duke and Duchess of Aosta 
 either one day soon, or when we return to Naples 
 before sailing, for Their Royal Highnesses are living 
 here in the Palace of Capo di Monte. The Duke of 
 Ascoli told me he would arrange it when he saw us 
 in Rome. The Duchess is a beautiful woman, much 
 beloved here in Italy. You remember she is a sister 
 of H.M. Queen Amelie of Portugal and H.R.H. the 
 [ 459 ] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Infanta Louisa of Spain. If the Duchess is as charm- 
 ing to me as her sisters have been, my meeting with 
 her should be very pleasant. The Duke is a very 
 handsome, and I should judge, a very attractive man. 
 Good-bye for this time. Much love to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 [460 
 
H. R. H. COUNT OF 
 TURIN 
 
 H. R. H. DUKE OF 
 THE ABRUZZI 
 
 H.R.H. DUCHESS OF 
 
 A O S T A 
 
 Born Heleyie of France 
 
 H.R. H. DUKE OF 
 A O S T A 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Palermo, Sicily, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE had been carefully advised to go from 
 Naples to Reggio; from Reggio, to take 
 the convenient little ferry over to Mes- 
 sina, and from Messina to take the rail- 
 way which runs along the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea 
 to Palermo; but in our case, as with most people, 
 good advice went a-begging, because I was very 
 desirous to see the Targa Florio, the name given 
 to the great automobile race which is being directed 
 and financed by young Cav. Vincenzo Florio, so we 
 came directly here by boat from Naples. 
 
 We found delightfully comfortable rooms in this 
 new *' Hotel Excelsior," in a pretty part of what I 
 already find to be a fascinating and beautiful city, and 
 I have left my cards and sent the letters of introduc- 
 tion given me by various friends in Rome. 
 
 Palermo is a great surprise to me. I shall never 
 forget our entrance into the harbor with the morn- 
 ing light, for an amphitheatre of great, imposing 
 mountains makes the circle from Monte Pellegrino, 
 on the one side, to Monte Catalfano, on the other, 
 enclosing this wonderful fertile plain, called very prop- 
 erly the ^' Shell of Gold" (Conca d' Oro). Palermo 
 is indeed well named "La Felice" (The Fortunate). 
 We had planned to stay here but a few days, but 
 already the Sicilian fascination is upon me, and I feel 
 sure we shall prolong our visit far beyond the ap- 
 [461] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 pointed time. I believe it is often quite warm here 
 in May, but fortunately for us, it is a late season, 
 and this morning we have been riding for miles by 
 lemon and orange trees, and strolling through the 
 exquisite gardens of the Villa Tasca. There is nothing 
 like beauties of Nature to enliven one's spirits, and a 
 more lovely view than that to be had from the little 
 tempietto in the great park of the Villa Tasca cannot 
 be imagined. On the one side there seemed to lie lim- 
 itless orange and lemon groves, while on the other 
 black and white swans glided gracefully over the little 
 lake, which is surrounded on all sides by extensive 
 gardens, the luxuriance of which I have never before 
 seen equalled. Flowers of every season, and trees of 
 every sort, seem to flourish all at once, and as we drove 
 back to the town we went through another wonderful 
 garden, which is now a public park called the Villa 
 Giulia; so called from Donna Giulia Guevara, wife of 
 the Viceroy of the time when the gardens were first 
 laid out (1777). Again the paths are lined with 
 wonderful flowering shrubs, and the whole atmos- 
 phere is pervaded with the aromatic perfumes of the 
 orange and the lemon blossoms. From here we had 
 our first glimpse of the snowy cone of Mount Etna 
 from a little platform at one corner of the garden. 
 As we drove out from this place of flowery wonders, 
 I noticed with surprise that the name of the street 
 was "Via Lincoln"; but it seems that throughout 
 Sicily there is the greatest admiration for our fa- 
 mous President, and through the influence of the Mar- 
 chese di Rudini (Marchese Carlo's father), the ancient 
 •name of the main street of several towns in Sicily 
 [462] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 has been changed to that of the American President. 
 The man who stood for the freedom of men, and 
 the freedom of thought, must indeed have appealed to 
 the Sicihans, whose history is the history practically 
 of the world; for the Trinacria was the pearl of the 
 Mediterranean, and from the earliest days has been 
 struggled for, bled for, and devastated for its treas- 
 ures by each succeeding race that came to power 
 in the world's history. It is really the connecting 
 link not only of the East and the West, but of the 
 North and the South, and has been the meeting-place 
 and battleground for race against race. While toler- 
 ance existed here in the most remarkable degree over 
 a long period of years, Sicily was at last given over 
 to the wretched Inquisition, and to the persecution 
 of the people of one creed by the people of another. 
 But, as there have been fierce times, struggles, and 
 bloodshed, so there have been times of peace and 
 prosperity; and as physical surroundings must in the 
 end prove superior to the mental attitude of one gen- 
 eration or another, in the moulding of a nation's 
 character, the greatest heritage, after all, of the Sicil- 
 ian of to-day, who has the blood of the Moslems, the 
 Greeks, the Romans, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Sara- 
 cens, and something, perhaps, of the early Siculans, 
 is the glory of the land in which he was born, to whose 
 influence all these varying races have succumbed, and 
 by it been moulded in a way to become a part of the 
 Trinacria. 
 
 We have been here only a day, yet the atmosphere 
 seems to be that of happiness shining through the 
 clouds of past misery. The ragged little urchins on 
 [463] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 the "calla" dance and shriek with joy, and their eyes, 
 which a moment before have been sad almost to sul- 
 lenness, sparkle with delight as you toss them a few 
 pennies in passing. The gay little carts which recall 
 the days of the Greek tragedy in their crude fantastic 
 paintings on the sides, always representing some scene 
 on the stage, the bright kerchiefs of the peasants, the 
 fantastic "gear" that is cleverly arranged in all colors 
 of the rainbow on the saddle backs of the patient don- 
 keys, all reflect Nature's command to be merry despite 
 the evils of the past, or the sorrows of to-day. 
 
 My letters from Sicily will give you only my own 
 experiences, which I feel are going to be of the hap- 
 piest; because to do Sicily justice, one must live here 
 long, and study much to understand and appreciate 
 all that the island means to-day, and has meant in its 
 great, glorious, and historic past. I cannot understand 
 why more people do not come to Sicily, and why we 
 have so few books about it. It is very satisfying in 
 the history of the world that Sicily has come to be a 
 part of glorious Italy, for the Siculi, from whom the 
 island is supposed to take its name, are thought to have 
 come from that very town in Latium where we have 
 been so recently, and from which the Countess Theo- 
 doli, I told you, takes her title Ciciliano. The Sicil- 
 ian archaeologists think that it was from this vicinity 
 in Italy that Sicily was first peopled, and give as their 
 reason the similarity of words and sounds, such as 
 the favorite Sicilian final *'u" to ancient Campanian 
 and Etruscan names, such as custrumeriu, cameriu, 
 vulturnu, tusculu, the similarity of their burial cus- 
 toms, etc. ; but there are other people who say that it 
 [464] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 was called first Sicania, from the Sicanians, who inhab- 
 ited it long before the people of Latium emigrated 
 to its shores; for shores they were by that time, though 
 the island is but a detached fragment of the great 
 Apennine range, its rocks being precisely similar to 
 those forming the parallel range of Aspromonte in 
 Calabria, both of them being surrounded by sedimen- 
 tary strata belonging to an early tertiary epoch. The 
 south coast, which is destitute of natural harbors and 
 lies almost in a straight line, was probably once con- 
 nected with Africa by a tableland, of which the flat 
 Malta Islands and the Lampedusa and the iEgadian 
 Islands are remains. 
 
 During forty centuries Sicily has certainly been a 
 living furnace of human activity, where every people 
 of every civilization have had their abode, and have 
 left traces of their passage in works of art, with the 
 result that Sicily is not only a wonderful archaeological 
 museum, but a marvellous panorama of the history of 
 the world, framed by Nature's most glorious setting. 
 Though many authorities would have us believe that 
 the dawn of Sicilian civilization preceded the arrival 
 of the invading Greeks, the original inhabitants of the 
 island doubtless owed their more perfect enlightenment 
 to the new masters of the island. 
 
 I read in a book this morning, "To know Europe 
 one must know Italy," but I am beginning to feel 
 that to know Italy one must know Sicily, and I fear 
 that it will be a long time before I shall know even 
 a small part of what I want to of this beautiful 
 island. 
 
 T. 
 [465] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Palermo, Sicily, April 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have had a very interesting and unusual 
 experience to-day, and I proved the value of my 
 permission from His Majesty to photograph the vari- 
 ous Royal Villas of Italy. On inquiry we found that 
 it was necessary to go first to the Royal Palace. I 
 asked where I could see the official of the "Amminis- 
 trazione della Real Casa." The old guard looked 
 rather surprised, but indicated a stairway, and gave 
 corridor directions. We found a very amiable middle- 
 aged gentleman, installed in an elegant private office 
 on the first floor, and to him I presented my precious 
 paper, with the request that I be allowed to make 
 photographs at once of the Royal Palace, and also in 
 the afternoon, if possible, of the Royal Villa Favorita. 
 Evidently permissions are most rare. The official, 
 asking us to be seated, read the paper not less than 
 three times from one end to the other; but the sig- 
 nature of Count Ponzo Vaglia, the Grand Master of 
 the Household of the King of Italy, is sufficiently 
 characteristic and well known not to be misunder- 
 stood, and at last the old official took off his glasses, 
 put down the paper, and with an exclamation said, 
 "There seems to be nothing for me to do but to make 
 out the permits for you. May I ask who you are, and 
 for what purpose you wish the pictures? This is a 
 most unusual permission." 
 
 I explained the gracious interest which Her Majesty 
 Queen Elena had taken in my first Italian book, and the 
 kindness and generosity which His Majesty had now 
 [466] 
 
H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF PIEDMONT 
 H. R. H. THE PRINCESS JOLANDA 
 H. R. H. THE PRINCESS MAFALDA 
 H. R. H. THE PRINCESS GIOVANNA 
 
 The Royal Children of Italy, autographed and 
 
 presented to Mrs. B at c he Her by 
 
 II . M . Queen Elena 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 shown me in regard to the second volume. The old 
 gentleman became very affable, proved to be from 
 Florence, and with Tuscan grace bowed me out of 
 the room, giving his instructions to the guide to allow 
 me to make my photographs when and as I pleased; 
 saying at the same time that he would send word to 
 the Villa Favorita, and he felt sure on presentation of 
 a card which he had written for me (scattering fine 
 sand in the old-fashioned way, for blotting), I should 
 have no difficulty in making whatever pictures I desired 
 there. 
 
 The Royal Palace of Palermo is in part of Saracenic 
 origin. Additions were made by Robert Guiscard, 
 King Roger, the "Bad" and the "Good" William, 
 Frederick II, and the unfortunate Manfred; but with 
 all these changes of time, men, and architecture, it 
 still keeps a certain trace of the defensive structure. 
 Of course the most beautiful thing in the palace is 
 the wonderful Cappella Palatina, which was built 
 before 1130 by King Roger II in the Arabic-Norman 
 style and dedicated to St. Peter. It is an exquisite 
 jewel of mosaic decoration, and one of the finest exam- 
 ples of mediaeval art in the world. The glass mosaics 
 representing scenes from the lives of Christ and St. Peter 
 are on a golden ground, and the whole place radiates 
 with Oriental splendor. 
 
 The floor is laid in wonderful designs done In por- 
 phyry, marble, and " verde antico." The Royal Throne 
 bears still the arms of Aragon, but those of Savoy have 
 now been added. The whole effect is beautiful and 
 brilliant to the point of bewilderment. There are 
 some other wonderful mosaics in another part of the 
 [467] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 palace called the Stanza di Ruggero, where the walls 
 are inlaid with mosaic of the Norman period, and 
 stately peacocks ornament different parts of the wall. 
 Queen Elena's bedroom, of which I took a pic- 
 ture, is done in delicate blue, a color which contrasts 
 charmingly with the ebony of the furniture. From 
 the flat 1 roof we had a most wonderful view of 
 Palermo, its great cathedral, and beyond, the harbor 
 with its great Mount Pellegrino, that seems like an 
 enormous watchdog guarding the city. The port, 
 with its many boats, is like a cinematograph in its 
 movement, and farther on, the palace of La Zisa, with 
 its yellow colorings, adds a picturesque note to the 
 scene. Just below are the Royal Gardens, and to the 
 southeast the five quaint domes of the church of San 
 Giovanni degli Fremiti (St. John of the Hermits). 
 Beyond the church is the tall green cypress grove 
 of the Campo Santo, and to the other side of this 
 beautiful conch shell of gold Mount Catalfano juts 
 out into the sea. What with my pictures, and our 
 joy at the view, the morning had soon sped away, 
 and we had time on our way home to go only to 
 what had so much attracted us in the view — the 
 Church of St. John of the Hermits. The building was 
 originally a mosque. Under the Normans the entire 
 structure was used as a burial-place for nobility, and 
 only a few traces of the frescoes of the twelfth century 
 are now visible. Adjoining the church are the most 
 lovely half-ruined cloisters, now ablaze with roses of 
 every hue and flowers of many kinds. Nature and 
 her darlings seem to have run riot among the graceful 
 columns that support the arches of the cloisters. 
 [468] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Later. — If Italy is full of surprises, Sicily is more 
 so. Nothing in all our journeys has in any way 
 resembled this fascinating little Villa of the Favorita 
 where we have been this afternoon. Situated in the 
 broad plain, surrounded by a vast and beautiful park 
 at the foot of Mount Pellegrino, this tiny Chinese 
 dwelling seems like a bit of China which had by some 
 good fortune dropped into this garden unbroken and 
 unharmed. "La Palazzina" was built during the 
 first sojourn in Sicily of the Bourbon court (1798- 
 1802) by Ferdinand IV, who, flying from the troops of 
 General Championnet, took refuge in Palermo. The 
 celebrated Maria Carolina, Ferdinand's queen, who, 
 it is said, dominated her Royal Consort, arranged in 
 this miniature palace fetes and balls, as souvenirs of 
 her lost kingdoms. The whole building is completely 
 Chinese, and so interested were we as we approached 
 from the long shaded parkway, lined with orange 
 trees, that I did not notice the elderly servant of the 
 Royal Household until I heard him say, "Excuse me, 
 Excellency, is this the American authoress that is 
 to take the pictures?" I suppose the "Amministra- 
 zione della Reale Casa" at the palace had tele- 
 phoned, because all the guides lined up most for- 
 mally to bow us into the gate of this Chinese 
 fairyland. On entering, we went first of all down a 
 small stairway into the subterranean dance hall of 
 charming proportions. This long narrow room, which 
 has seen so many brilliant balls, is decorated in Louis 
 XVI style, and has not a window, being made only 
 for evening festivities. The room is hung with in- 
 teresting old engravings and water-colors of that 
 [469] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 time, and to one side is a little room for the inevi- 
 table buffet. 
 
 Then by an out-of-door staircase we went up to 
 the first floor, where there is a magnificent reception 
 hall, the sides of which are decorated with panels of 
 beautiful Chinese embroidery. Opening out of this is 
 an unusual, but rather attractive room called the bed- 
 chamber of the King, and here the frescoes represent 
 tiny Chinese figures that seem to be looking over a 
 balustrade encircling the ceiling of the room. The 
 conceit is well carried out and fanciful in the extreme. 
 In this playhouse of Royalty there was no room for 
 servants and servitors, and in the dining-room, which 
 is fitted with a round table for six people only, there is 
 an ingenious arrangement by which any one of the six 
 plates, at the ringing of the right bell, is drawn down 
 by a mechanical device to the kitchen below, refilled, 
 garnished, made delectable by busy cooks, and with 
 a second stroke of the bell sent up steaming hot 
 before the person whose wishes needed attention. 
 Each place had its own bell of a special ring, so that 
 each person could send his plate separately to the 
 kitchen if desired. Truly an ideal system for a dinner 
 *'a quattro occhi" (for four eyes), but not so impor- 
 tant for six. On the floor above was the suite of 
 the Queen, consisting of a dear little Turkish salon, 
 the furnishings of which were presented by the Sul- 
 tan of Turkey, and out of which led a Pompeian bed- 
 room. Dainty stucco enclosed the portraits of the 
 children of the Queen, done in Pompeian style, and 
 under each one were affectionate inscriptions indicat- 
 ing the nicknames of the beloved children — "La mia 
 [470] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Gioia" (My Joy), "La mia Speranza" (My Hope), 
 etc. Climbing still higher to the rotunda at the top, 
 we had another wonderful view of the city of Palermo 
 as far as the bays of Sferracavallo and Mondello. 
 Chinese artists came from Pekin to decorate this 
 pleasure-house of Ferdinand, and the paintings in the 
 little cardroom outside the dining-room are exception- 
 ally lovely and give one unusual and interesting pictures 
 of the costumes of the Chinese women of rank. 
 
 This morning I had a very charming note of welcome 
 from Donna Franca Florio, who asked me to tea with 
 her this afternoon. Of course she is very much inter- 
 ested, like the rest of her family, in the great automobile 
 race which comes off very soon. I was also interested 
 in seeing her photographs of her last journey to Sweden 
 and Norway. The Villa Florio, as one would expect, 
 since Florio is the richest man in Sicily, is very ele- 
 gant, and the exquisite little villa, in one part of these 
 Florio grounds. Donna Franca pointed out to me as 
 her tea house; otherwise I should have thought it a 
 little palace (palazzino). If the Sicilian highways and 
 fields are loaded down with all kinds of flowers, you. 
 may imagine that the private grounds of Signor Florio 
 in their beauty are something not soon to be forgotten. 
 We only caught a glimpse of them to-day, but that 
 glimpse was many hued and beautiful; however, we 
 are to be with Donna Franca again to-morrow, for 
 she is to take me to the opening of a charity bazaar, 
 given under her patronage by the orphan children 
 that are reared by Sicilian nuns in the religious school 
 here in Palermo. 
 
 Donna Franca is a handsome woman, tall and 
 [471] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 well-built, with much more vivacity than many of 
 the stately Italian women. She is a Sicilian by birth, 
 and her animation is a characteristic of the people of 
 her native island. Prince Prospero Colonna was one 
 of the party to-day. Duke Tagliapietro, with one or 
 two other Sicilian men, came in as I was leaving. 
 Who should greet me at the hotel to-night but Prince 
 Potenziani, who with the Princess has come for the 
 races. As we have to start very early to-morrow morn- 
 ing, in spite of my protests, I shall not write more 
 to-night. 
 
 T. 
 
 Palermo, April 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 The automobile race was what I suppose all auto- 
 mobile races would be for me, rather disillusioning. 
 We left early this morning, and rode to the little town 
 of Buonfornello in the special train that carried all 
 the automobile enthusiasts who had not departed on 
 the 3 A.M. train before. In our compartment was the 
 director of the Itala manufactory in Turin. He wore 
 a tiny automobile in diamonds in his cravat, and 
 Madame pinned her elaborate automobile veil with a 
 large diamond motor. He told us a good deal that 
 was interesting of his work for the success of the Itala 
 machine. 
 
 Everything about the Targa Florio was very well 
 arranged. On the arrival of the train, we were all 
 directed up and over a bridge which prevented any- 
 one's crossing the course. So far as we could see the 
 [ 472 ] 
 
DONNA FRANCA FLORIO 
 Lady-oj-the-Palace of H . M . Queen E I e 7i a 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 road was very fine, but in many places back in the 
 mountains there were sharp and dangerous turns, and 
 giddy heights to be traversed up and down. With 
 faith in my "Antonio" I fully believed the FIAT 
 would win, and it did, though it had worthy com- 
 petitors in the Itala, Mercedes, Renault, Napier — 
 all good machines. There seemed to be a superfluity 
 of boxes in the grandstand, and while I was searching 
 for the number of the one for which we were supposed 
 to have paid, Signor Tito Ricordi came up to me, and 
 explained that I could take the one that pleased me 
 best. He joined us for our picnic luncheon, and we 
 passed a pleasant day watching the various cars lit- 
 erally skim past the grandstand. On the opposite 
 side of the road were Donna Franca and the Princess 
 Trabia, who came down in their motor, but there was 
 not much time for visiting, and certainly it was impos- 
 sible to safely cross the course, for every few moments 
 two pistol shots in quick succession announced an 
 approaching car. A cloud of dust, a whiz — and it 
 was gone; or, as in one or two cases, the whiz grew 
 suddenly slower, and the car drew up under one of the 
 sheds, where the necessary repairs, changing of tires, 
 were made by numerous workmen, drilled and equipped 
 for the purpose, with a speed and exactitude that was 
 amazing. 
 
 But after ten or fifteen cars had passed, and after 
 the big FIAT had come in on its last round con- 
 siderably ahead of the other machines, my interest 
 began to flag. Unfortunately I was not alone in this 
 feeling, and when Signor Tito Ricordi took us to the 
 train, we found about twice as many people on the 
 [473] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 platform as the train was likely to hold. In about 
 two seconds after the cars drew up to the station 
 every available seat was taken, but F. B. and I con- 
 cluded to stand up on the outside platform of one of 
 the aisle cars, while Signor Ricordi preferred to wait 
 until the next train. As we stood admiring the won- 
 derful Sicilian sunset, which seemed to bathe in a golden 
 glory the fair country on each side of the railway 
 that is lined with great hedges of green cactus inter- 
 spersed with scarlet geraniums, a gentleman came to 
 me and in excellent English said, "Madame, I have 
 found a seat for you in the train, if you will kindly 
 come with me." I accepted this courtesy, and as I 
 entered the compartment all seven of the gentlemen 
 rose and bowed while I took the eighth place. I had 
 never seen this person before, but presently he brought 
 F. B.,and one of the other men rose and gave him his 
 seat. This is a part of Sicilian courtesy, I suppose, 
 for yesterday, when we took a short walk to the 
 Museum, a nice-looking young man, of whom F. B. 
 inquired the way, doffed his hat, and walked with us 
 to the Museum door, thanking us for allowing him to 
 show us the way when we reached there. 
 
 The papers announce also a wonderful motor boat 
 race which is to include the circle of the island of 
 Sicily, but I doubt if we shall see much of it, though I 
 think it starts from the beautiful Villa Igiea, where 
 we went the other day for tea. The drive out to 
 the hotel is attractive, and tea on the terrace, amidst 
 flowers and perfumes, with the ever lovely view of 
 the harbor of Palermo, is altogether enjoyable. Their 
 Majesties King Edward and Queen Alexandra had 
 [474] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 luncheon there the other day, and I send you a picture 
 of the Royal yachting party. The King and Queen are 
 travelHng supposedly incognito, and there will be no 
 festivities in their honor, but three British gunboats 
 in the harbor make the incognito reasonably safe. 
 Signor Florio has placed his automobiles at the disposal 
 of the Royal visitors. Queen Alexandra is looking as 
 beautiful as ever, and His Majesty is, as always, 
 gracious, and both are interested in all interesting 
 things. 
 
 It is very much warmer, and in spite of the many 
 things I have to do here, I have found time to discover 
 a delightful French hat shop, and I missed you on 
 my "hatting" excursion. One would hardly think of 
 going to Palermo for French creations in hats, but I 
 really found some lovely models, and feel much more 
 appropriate in my spring flowers than I should in hot 
 felts in this flowery island. 
 
 To-morrow morning we are going to get in a little 
 sight-seeing, for Baron Lo Monaco and the Marchese 
 Montemayor are coming to lunch, and every minute 
 of the next few days is to be occupied with friends. 
 I wish I could send you some of the wonderful tanger- 
 ine oranges that are so plentiful here in Sicily. We 
 have a great many at home, I know, but the taste is 
 not the same. They mix the pomegranate and tan- 
 gerine in a way that produces a most delicious flavor, 
 and I have never eaten the equal of these Palermo 
 oranges. This evening we have taken a stroll through 
 the main street, Ruggiero Settimo, which is, like the 
 Corso of Rome, the promenade of the Palmertans 
 between the hours of five-thirty and seven. The 
 [475] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Sicilians love their carriages and liveries in the same 
 way as the Spanish, and we have seen a number of 
 very handsome dark-eyed women in the carriages 
 that have been up and down the promenade late 
 this afternoon. 
 
 T. 
 
 Palermo, Sicily, May 
 My dear M: 
 
 To-day has been another day full of interest, and 
 we have just come in from tea, which we were invited 
 to take with Count and Countess Lanza di Mazzarino 
 in their wonderful palace in the Via Ruggiero Settimo. 
 
 On the way back from the cathedral this morn- 
 ing we drove through the old quarters of Palermo, 
 where the people have their little stoves at one side 
 of their front doors and cook their food in the open 
 air. The close iron bars of fanciful pattern before 
 every window on every story of a convent that we 
 passed spoke of the tempestuous times in days gone 
 by when advancing armies made nothing of ruining a 
 convent and its inmates. 
 
 The street scenes of Palermo are rather more pic- 
 turesque than anywhere we have yet been; there are 
 so many different types of humanity. Some of the 
 people of the streets have light blue eyes and golden 
 hair, which speaks plainly of their Norman ancestry, 
 while other urchins seem to be veritable little Arabs 
 in their Oriental coloring and litheness of movement. 
 The itinerant cooks that we see occasionally in the 
 streets of Naples are very common here in Palermo, 
 [476] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 but there are many other itinerant sellers: a bakery on 
 wheels, a boot hawker who carries his bamboo with 
 boots hung on it, water sellers with water barrels on 
 a trolley drawn by a donkey, sellers of cloths with 
 their goods done up in a dust sheet and piled upon 
 their heads. 
 
 Everything must be decorative in Sicily. Nature 
 has given every possible right to believe in color and 
 brilliancy. Even the water sellei walks round with 
 a brightly painted table, with brass mountings, on 
 which tumblers and bottles of syrup are arranged, and 
 in a twinkling of an eye a delicious drink is prepared 
 for the passer-by. But the most striking of all things 
 Sicilian are the carts, seemingly used for all purposes 
 by the peasants. They are unlike those of any other 
 nationality, and in their elaborate coloring and careful 
 decoration sometimes might almost be called works 
 of art. They are little two-wheeled vehicles with 
 high sides, each of which is divided into two parts. 
 They , are generally painted yellow, with red, blue, 
 and green decorations on the dividing lines. The two 
 spaces on each side are painted with scenes from plays 
 or from subjects of mythological lore: The Rape of 
 Europa, The Burning of Troy, The Retreat from 
 Moscow, The Coronation of King Roger, The Landing 
 of the Thousand at Marsala, and so on. Family 
 pictures, attacks of brigands, are also to be found 
 in these weird pictures. I am told that these carts 
 sometimes cost as much as two hundred fifty lire, and 
 I asked how these poor people, many of whom cannot 
 read and write, should know anything about the Rape 
 of Europa or the Retreat from Moscow. My answer 
 [477] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 was that the public story-teller (contastorie) is still 
 very much in evidence in Sicily, and indeed a little 
 group near the Porto was pointed out to me attentively 
 listening to a man who was talking with many gestures 
 and much enthusiasm, hoping by the interest of his 
 story to earn the few centesimi that would be his due 
 when he had finished. 
 
 The people here are devoted to the little mario- 
 nette theatres, where they hear the whole of the Charle- 
 magne epic. Indeed, there are nine of these little 
 places in Palermo, well patronized* by the poor people, 
 who cannot afford the larger playhouses and their 
 comfortable seats. The little carts are used mostly for 
 carrying countless orange and lemon cases from the 
 vineyards surrounding Palermo to the docks, from 
 which they are shipped to foreign countries. They 
 are also used with boards put across the middle of 
 the cart to carry the Sicilian, his sisters, his cousins, 
 and his aunts on festal occasions. How one little 
 donkey, laden down with a harness that literally 
 sparkles with brass nails, and is decorated with feathers 
 of every hue of the rainbow, can carry all this load 
 and spin along over the road, as he always seems to, 
 is incomprehensible to me. I have great respect for a 
 donkey. I wonder why people are called asses when 
 they are supposed to be stupid. It seems to me that 
 a donkey is a very intelligent animal. They seem to 
 be quite conscious of the fact that they are dressed 
 up, and prance about, shaking the tall tuft of scarlet 
 feathers on their bridles, and making the bells attached 
 to the enormous saddle-piece of plumes jingle in re- 
 sponse to their liveliness. The springs of the small 
 [478] 
 
• AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 carts are worked in floral designs, painted in many- 
 colors, and though nearly lost to sight bear close exam- 
 ination, and are really sometimes very pretty. Even 
 the great dock drays have the small portion of wood 
 forming their sides painted and decorated in brilliant 
 colors. 
 
 Just before we drove back to the hotel we passed 
 a troop of Bersaglieri marching toward the large 
 barracks. No soldiers are more picturesque than these 
 "crack" riflemen of the Italian army. They are picked 
 men physically, and their ordinary march is what most 
 soldiers would term a double quickstep. As they 
 passed us in the breeze, their flying cock feathers, 
 ruddy, healthy-looking faces, and their swinging 
 motion made really a lovely picture. This corps of 
 soldiers was organized by General Alessandro Lamar- 
 mora, in 1836, and I remember I saw a statue erected 
 in his honor in Turin. 
 
 At luncheon to-day the gallant gentleman of the 
 railway was brought up by Montemayor, and pre- 
 sented to me. Mr. William Fog sounds very English 
 for Sicily, but I believe his father is of English 
 descent. We are to see him in Catania, where he is 
 the director of the large sulphur industries, sulphur 
 being one of Sicily's principal exports. 
 
 My experience with Donna Franca was very inter- 
 esting. We started together from her villa this after- 
 noon, and drove directly to the charity fair at the 
 Bocca dei Poveri. She led me into a small room 
 where the nuns, and numerous ladies, of the commit- 
 tee I suppose, were awaiting her arrival. The little 
 children sang a short song, with fresh melodious 
 [479] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 voices; Donna Franca expressed her gratification at 
 the work prepared by the children for this fair, and 
 spoke a few pleasant words of encouragement to the 
 Sister Superior, who now led the way to the hall, 
 where examples of the various arts and crafts taught 
 by the nuns to these orphan children were shown. As 
 we filed into the hall, Donna Franca presented me to 
 the various ladies, among whom I recall particularly 
 a very sweet-faced blonde, who gave me her card, 
 smilingly saying that her name (Duchess Giampilieri) 
 was difficult to remember. I was surprised at the per- 
 fection of the lace made by these little girls. Much 
 of the embroidery was beautifully done, and it must 
 have taken many months of long and patient labor to 
 complete so large a number of pretty fancy articles. I 
 was very glad to get some of the lace in these Sicilian 
 patterns. After a look about the hall, we all went out 
 into the open courtyard of this convent school, where 
 we took tickets in a lottery. A tiny book of "First 
 Communion" and a daintily embroidered handkerchief 
 came to me from the various numbers. Presently 
 Princess Trabia with Countess Mazzarino arrived, 
 and a little later Signor Florio and Prince and Prin- 
 cess Potenziani. Nothing could be more courteous and 
 charming than the greetings of the Princess Trabia 
 and the Countess Mazzarino. Two more attractive 
 women I have not met in a very long time. After 
 we had done full justice to the school, and to the 
 scholars, who were allowed to assemble on an upper 
 terrace, and smilingly beamed down in childish enthu- 
 siasm upon their benefactresses, Countess Mazzarino 
 insisted upon taking me off to tea with her. Her 
 [480I 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 palace is a wonder-house filled with the rarest collec- 
 tions of porcelains, statuary, tapestries, and other 
 glories of the collector's dreams. I had heard often 
 of the palace and of the Count and Countess, but the 
 personality of my host and hostess so far outshone 
 even their wonderful collections, that to-day I have 
 only had a glance at the treasures that this stately, 
 severe palace contains. It is said that the Emperor 
 of Germany came to tea with Count Mazzarino on 
 his recent visit to Sicily, and on leaving made the 
 remark: "It will be pleasant to see you in Berlin, but 
 I fear I shall have nothing to show you that can equal 
 your own treasures here in your own palace." King 
 Edward has broken through his rigid incognito so far 
 as to go with Queen Alexandra for a very private tea 
 with the Count and Countess Mazzarino. 
 
 We are to go this evening to Princess Trabia, and 
 I am happy to say that the Countess Mazzarino 
 invited me again to-morrow, and indeed has shown 
 such a charming simpatia for me that I look upon her 
 as a prospective friend already. At tea the Poten- 
 ziani and Donna Franca joined us, and another very 
 pretty woman of Palermo in the person of the Prin- 
 cess Cuto, who I am told is a Pole, and the wife of 
 a Sicilian deputy to the Parliament at Rome. We were 
 all amused by the photographs of the recent amateur 
 tableaux and theatricals, which this little circle of noble- 
 women of Palermo gave for the benefit of some local 
 charity. Donna Franca made a very lovely sun, and 
 the Greek draperies quite suited her stately type of 
 beauty. It is time to dress, and I will write to-morrow. 
 
 T. 
 [481] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Palermo, May 
 My dear M.- 
 Palermo is certainly a city of wonders! We have 
 often driven by the long and unusual-looking palace of 
 the Princess Trabia, which fronts directly on the Marina, 
 but to drive by is one thing, and to be a guest quite 
 another. The reception which Princess Trabia gave 
 last evening was very enjoyable, though her invita- 
 tion had merely been to "come at ten o'clock for a 
 cup of tea." Her palace is larger than that of Count 
 Mazzarino, and vies in elegance and beauty in its 
 equipment. While F. B. was amused at a table of 
 bridge, Princess Trabia was kind enough to take me 
 all about her beautiful home. I send you a photo- 
 graph of her bedroom, which is so elegant that Prince 
 Potenziani, who made the tour with us, laughingly 
 asked the Princess if the exquisite cupids that adorn 
 the walls did not prevent her from going to sleep by 
 their beauty and fascination. Among her many treas- 
 ures, the Princess showed me the most marvellous coral 
 embroideries done on cloth-of-gold of a sort I have 
 never seen before. 
 
 Donna Franca did not come last night, but there 
 were other ladies of Palermo; Prince Viggiano from 
 Rome, and one or two other friends, enthusiasts of 
 the recent race, were also among the guests. Not one 
 small attention that could make me feel at home was 
 forgotten. Nearly all Sicilians speak good English, 
 but none better than the Princess Trabia, who was 
 born a Florio, and is a sister of the husband of Donna 
 Franca. Count Mazzarino is of the Lanza family 
 [482] 
 
y/^i/^ 4^/U^a — 
 
 /2A.*^tju 
 
 COUNTESS MAZZARINO 
 
 Lad y-oj-t he-Palace of H . M . Queen Margherita 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 also, and I surely have been admitted to the charmed 
 circle of this charming island. 
 
 A garden of the gods it surely is, and is rightfully 
 famed for its climate as well as its beauty. I picked 
 up only to-day a book whose title was "Sicily as a 
 Health Resort," and the proportion of fine days 
 throughout the year was two hundred twenty-nine. 
 The thermometer rarely drops, even in winter, below 
 fifty-two degrees, and rarely goes above eighty, and 
 so far as our experience goes the Sicilian climate is, 
 to use a Sicilian term, "incantevole" (enchanting). 
 
 The Princess Trabia has some of the finest jewels 
 in Europe. She is a Lady-of-the-Palace of Queen 
 Elena, and at the court balls she is always greatly 
 admired, for she is beautiful with a beauty of line 
 and intelligence, and I find on inquiry that I am not 
 in error in my reading of her character, for everyone 
 speaks of her in the highest praise. She was married 
 when a young girl, and last night I met three of 
 her stalwart, handsome sons, to whom she seems more 
 like a sister than a mother, for Italian women seem 
 never to grow old. Prince Trabia talked with me 
 very entertainingly about America, about my winter 
 in Rome, where I have become so fond of his sister. 
 Princess Giustiniani Bandini, and expressed his great 
 interest in my prospective book. It has been a delight- 
 ful evening, and I hope to see much more of the Prin- 
 cess and her family before we leave Palermo. . . . 
 
 We are going out now for a drive to Monreale, 
 and this afternoon I am going first to the Countess 
 Mazzarino and later to Donna Franca. More anon. 
 
 T. 
 [483] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Later. — We have just come in from the opera, 
 which was finely given, in the great opera house 
 here. The people are wildly enthusiastic, and show 
 their love inherited throughout the centuries for the 
 play. The opera was new and by a Sicilian composer. 
 It was supported, as, indeed, all the music must be, 
 by the.Trabias and the Florios, and it seems to be a 
 great success. 
 
 My day with the Countess Mazzarino was, if 
 possible, more charming than the first, and I enjoyed 
 talking of Sicily, its history, past and present, with 
 Count Mazzarino, who is a delightful gentleman of 
 the distinctly Norman type. He was most kind in 
 helping me to take numerous pictures of his wonderful 
 palace, and explaining to me some of the peculiarities 
 of its decoration. I think nowhere but here, except 
 in the palace of Versailles, is to be found at the present 
 day the use of candles in beautiful wrought-bronze 
 holders over each door of the great reception salons 
 of a palace. 
 
 The great soft square cushions placed in the centre 
 of these large rooms and covered with beautiful 
 embroideries are another French feature of this Sicil- 
 ian palace. One room is hung with long, broad panels, 
 which at first glance seem to be tapestry, but which 
 on examination proved to be the most wonderful 
 Sicilian embroideries done in colors of silk in the Sicil- 
 ian stitches which we know as Kensington, and with a 
 fineness and perfection of form and color that I have 
 never seen before. They far surpassed all the em- 
 broideries in the Museum. It is useless for me to try 
 to tell you of the numerous and varied porcelains, 
 [484] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 rare Chinese vases, and no end of wonderful pieces 
 of bric-a-brac that decorate this treasure-house of 
 Palermo. 
 
 I have never met a European gentleman who speaks 
 as perfect English as Count Mazzarino, who has just 
 sent me a collection of books about Sicily, which will 
 be invaluable to me. I send you a picture of the great 
 entrance hall of his palace, which is so divided by the 
 arrangement of furniture as to seem to be two or three 
 rooms, and the great Minerva presides majestically 
 over the whole apartment. I must say I love the big 
 spacious rooms of these great old palaces of Europe. 
 They are so high, one is never lacking fresh air, and 
 the question of heating has been solved by the French 
 calorifer, so that once these great stone houses are 
 heated in the autumn they never get cold again until 
 the fires go out in the spring. 
 
 Count Mazzarino told me that King Edward and 
 Queen Alexandra were most gracious, and seemed much 
 interested in the wonderful curios, marvellous tapes- 
 tries, and other wonders of his home. He did not put 
 it that way, but I tell you as it is. 
 
 Count Mazzarino is a cousin of Prince Trabia. 
 The family name of this title is Lanza, and dates 
 from the feudal house of Northern Italy, which appears 
 in Sicily only in the thirteenth century. The acquisi- 
 tion of the Branciforte titles, Princes of Butera, of 
 Campofiorito, both with the title of grandees of 
 Spain, came into the family by the marriage of Prince 
 Giuseppe Lanza with Stefania Branciforte, and all the 
 titles of the House of Spinelli through a marriage 
 with Eleonora Spinelli, the Princess of Scalea. "The 
 [485] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Count of Mazzarino" is one of the Branciforte titles, 
 and the Countess, who is a Neapolitan of the princely 
 house of Motta San Giovanni, is one of the Ladies- 
 of-the-Palace of Queen Margherita. When we had 
 finished our round of the castle, and I had taken my 
 pictures, the Countess took us to the little boudoir of 
 her daughter, an exquisite room furnished with fine 
 old Empire pieces. Young Contessina Oliva is an ex- 
 tremely pretty blonde, with blue eyes and the faifest 
 of skins, and I shall not soon forget the picture she 
 made as she played to us on her harp, an accom- 
 plishment which is too little studied in America, but 
 which is one of the most graceful and charming. The 
 harp is the principal accomplishment of young women 
 of nobility in Spain, and this touch of Spain in this 
 palace, where all spoke of Norman influence and French 
 taste, was quaint and exceedingly attractive. After 
 the little solo we had tea, and have promised, from 
 urgent invitations, to come again another day very 
 soon, for to-morrow we are all to meet at Donna 
 Franca's in the afternoon. Best love to all at home. 
 
 T. 
 
 Palermo, May 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 We have just now come in from a delightful tea 
 with Donna Franca. 
 
 We went quite early at her invitation, in order to 
 take some photographs of the garden. I supposed of 
 course that she had notified the gardener of our com- 
 ing, and told our coachman to drive into the grounds, 
 [486] 
 
'/^..J^ ^A.<y^^ 
 
 PRINCESS OF TRABIA 
 
 Lady-of-the-Palace of II . M . Queen Elena 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 but not to the villa. We entered near the attractive 
 tennis-court, near which is a quaint little thatched 
 house, and before we could decide which of the flowery 
 paths to take first, a man, evidently the head gardener, 
 came up, hat in hand, and asked if he could show us 
 about the grounds or assist me in taking my photo- 
 graphs. I thanked him, and we walked with him all 
 over this wonderful garden. I took pictures of the 
 great palm which is thought to be over a hundred 
 years old, and rises higher than the villa itself. The 
 walks were lined with thick masses of blooming stock 
 of varied colors, and indeed every flower seemed to be 
 luxuriant, and showed not only the wonderful results 
 of sunshine and care, but the fertility of the island, 
 which seems a veritable garden of the gods. As we 
 returned from our tour of the garden, the old gardener 
 disappeared into one of the greenhouses, coming back 
 presently with a large bouquet of his rarest orchids 
 and choicest blooms of other kinds, which he presented 
 me with a low bow. The time had passed more quickly 
 than we realized, and as I expressed my thanks for the 
 flowers, I explained that we must go on to the villa, 
 where Donna Franca was expecting us for tea. You 
 can imagine my surprise when he exclaimed: "Oh, their 
 Excellencies know the Signora Donna Franca! I 
 thought they were strangers in Palermo." So perfect 
 had been his "hospitality to the stranger" in accordance 
 with the Sicilian idea, that even when he knew that I 
 was the guest of his master, there was really nothing 
 more that he could do to be courteous and polite. At 
 tea I told one of the young Sicilians, whom I have met 
 here, the story of my experience in the garden, and he 
 [487] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 explained to me that this gardener of Florio's belongs 
 in some way to what is known here in Sicily as the 
 Society of Friends, and what the world calls the 
 Mafia. 
 
 No one seems to know just how the Mafia origi- 
 nated, and indeed I suppose no one really knows just 
 what the Mafia is; but that it is a powerful under- 
 current in the affairs of Sicily there can be no doubt. 
 As you know from the history of the island, the people 
 have passed through long periods of injustice and mis- 
 rule. It is the natural instinct of man to protect his 
 family, and when that protection is violated, his women 
 outraged, and his home destroyed, it does not take very 
 long for all such men to bind themselves together in a 
 secret society whose object shall be the protection of 
 the weak by the strong. It is my belief that it is from 
 this primal instinct for the man to protect his women 
 that the beginnings of the Mafia have come. That 
 the Mafia is a very different organization at the pres- 
 ent day is not to be questioned. 
 
 To-day the Sicilian will talk to you of omertdy 
 and he will say: "In a school, a boy is told when a 
 bigger boy hits him on the head, 'Be a man, not 
 a tattle-tale.' In college you are told: 'Be a man.' 
 If you are a freshman, you must not 'peach' on the 
 * senior.' Even the urchin of the poor in the streets 
 is scolded by his father if he cries when knocked over 
 the head by any playmate. 'Be a man!'" Again, 
 he quotes you the Latin word, homertas, and asks its 
 meaning. It has come to be a part of the Sicilian 
 character never to betray a compatriot, be he enemy 
 or friend. From their earliest youth the Sicilian chil- 
 [488] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 dren learn that it is the duty of a man to hold his 
 tongue on the subject of adventures in which he 
 may have been concerned. There is a proverb which 
 says: "La verita si dici aju confissuri" (Truth is told 
 to the confessor). Even innocent people will allow 
 themselves to be accused and condemned rather than 
 to point out or tell on the guilty. From 1200 to 
 i860 the Sicilians have been the victims of one con- 
 queror after another, who impoverished the island; 
 each government produced new torments in order 
 to exact the last coin by the most cruel sort of tax- 
 ation. There was no time to think of the people; 
 each viceroy must take what he could for himself 
 as soon as possible. The police system of these gov- 
 ernments is terrible to recall. The great proprietors 
 gave up living on their country estates, and sometimes 
 did not visit them for twenty years, frequently being 
 afraid to do so, and with reason. Means of communi- 
 cation were purposely kept in bad condition to prevent 
 any sentiment of nationality or unity springing up be- 
 tween the people of towns and cities, and to this day 
 there is a distinct prejudice between the town and the 
 country people. During any such state of oppression 
 by a foreign government it seems a most natural conse- 
 quence that the people of the island should have bound 
 themselves together not only for the mutual protec- 
 tion of their homes, but for each other. Despotism 
 was the order of the day, and justice smote rather the 
 malcontents than the evil-doers. Under these circum- 
 stances it is not likely that any men of character 
 possessing what the Sicilians call omertd would testify 
 against each other to a court composed of unjust 
 [489] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 oppressors. To-day the government of United Italy 
 has to contend against the force of traditional opposi- 
 tion to recognized authority, though the enlightened 
 and educated Sicilian is only too glad to obey the laws 
 of his country and to help in the administration of such 
 laws. The people of Sicily voted by a tremendous 
 majority to become a part of United Italy, and volun- 
 tarily put themselves under the law of the kingdom; 
 but it is not to be expected that a race so long perse- 
 cuted can at once realize that they have no longer need 
 of combinations of individuals to protect their own. 
 
 One sees the varied history of the island portrayed 
 in the faces of the people, and Sicilian character is 
 probably as complex as the Sicilian appearance. In 
 any case the great mixture of blood has produced a 
 highly intelligent race, and while their national songs 
 are melancholy, it has been said that a Sicilian is 
 never too miserable not to be able to utter a jest. 
 We came here to stay a week, and it is now three 
 since we arrived, but we bade an unwilling good-bye 
 to-day to Donna Franca who goes to-morrow to Rome 
 and Paris. We, too, have decided that we must move 
 on, and to-morrow we shall go to Monreale to see the 
 great cathedral, and the next day we leave for Girgenti. 
 The Prince and Princess Potenziani, who came for the 
 races, and whom we have enjoyed seeing, also go back 
 to-morrow to their estate at Rieti, not far from Rome. 
 Princess Trabia sent me this afternoon some lovely 
 pictures of her palace, and I am to see Count and 
 Countess Mazzarino once more before we say a final 
 good-bye. Donna Franca is returning here in early 
 June, and has cordially invited us to come with her to 
 [490] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 one of her large castles on the islands off the coast of 
 Sicily near Marsala. I am very sorry that we cannot 
 make this visit, for it would be a most interesting and 
 unusual experience, and then I should have the pleasure 
 of being with Donna Franca, who is a charming com- 
 panion, fond of out-of-door sports as I am, and gen- 
 erally gay and vivacious. I cannot understand why 
 the Marsala wines, which, of course, Signor Ignazio 
 Florio controls in Sicily, and which have contributed, 
 together with his large shipping interests, to make his 
 vast fortune, are not better known throughout the 
 world. To me the taste of the fine Marsala is far more 
 delicate and delicious than sherry. 
 
 T. 
 
 GiRGENTi, Sicily, May 
 My dear M: 
 
 The road from Palermo to Girgenti was altogether 
 lovely, and varied as it was interesting. The railroad 
 follows the valley of the river Torto, and crosses the 
 great watershed between the Tyrrhenian and African 
 seas, where the most northerly sulphur mines are 
 situated, and then follows the valley of Platani, where 
 the gauze screens about the station windows and the 
 numberless eucalyptus trees told us of ever-present 
 malaria. Now and then we passed a fifteenth-century 
 castle, but of course through the sulphur districts 
 the land is very barren. Through the river valleys 
 the railway is lined, as it was the other day on our 
 journey to Buonfornello, with the various colors of 
 many kinds of wild flowers. The small, purplish-blue 
 [491I 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 Iris grows in great masses, and indeed F. B. and I 
 had quite a discussion on one occasion as to whether 
 the great mass of these low blue flowers growing at 
 some distance from the railway was a lake or a 
 mass of blooms; but with a turn in the road I was 
 able to prove my point that it was not water, but 
 flowers. Masses of blue and white lupins, vetches of 
 varied colors, orpine, many sorts of daisies, a beautiful, 
 wild gladiolus, cyclamens, and many other lovely 
 flowers make it easy to believe that there are over 
 four hundred and seventy-seven varieties of wild 
 flowers in Sicily; a flora not to be equaUed in many 
 parts of the world, I believe. 
 
 We arrived in good time at Girgenti,and found a nice 
 motor-bus ready to take us to the Hotel of the Temples, 
 situated about half a mile from the town on a slight emi- 
 nence overlooking these wonderfully picturesque ruins. 
 
 The little hotel is very simple, but our rooms are 
 comfortable and large, and a broad-tiled balcony with 
 balustrade overlooks a very attractive Italian garden 
 ablaze with flowers, which send up their perfume and 
 add to the poetry of this whole landscape. Nothing 
 more picturesque and beautiful can be imagined than 
 the view from this terrazza where I am sitting. 
 
 The wonderful temple of Juno Lacinia is beauti- 
 fully situated on the edge of a steep precipice nearly 
 four hundred feet above sea-level. The great fluted 
 Doric columns are almost more beautiful in their ruin 
 than in their perfection. 
 
 Only twenty-five whole pillars are now standing, 
 for earthquakes have added their work of destruction 
 to that of time, and all have been disintegrated by 
 [492] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 exposure to the scirocco winds. The great Temple of 
 Concord is one of the best preserved ancient temples 
 in existence, and recalls in its magnificence that of 
 Paestum near Naples. Then there are other ruins, 
 which, to the eye of any but an archaeologist, are 
 merely picturesque groups of fallen columns, elo- 
 quent of past grandeur and present-day ruin. The 
 temple, called that of Castor and Pollux, has been 
 put together from various fallen columns in such a 
 way as to add much to this whole scene, but is 
 evidently a reconstruction rather than the remains 
 of a great temple. I shall never forget the beauty 
 of the moonlight view of last evening. Girgenti, I 
 think, is the most poetic of places, and to be thor- 
 oughly appreciated and seen at its loveliest moment, 
 one should wait for the charm and fascination of the 
 moonlight. Far away the moonbeams dance upon 
 the Mediterranean, and coming across the sea enter 
 the temples, and at last find the garden and the flowers. 
 All becomes enchanted under the moonbeams' power. 
 The flowers seem more fragrant, one's imagination re- 
 builds the temples and peoples the ruined city (called 
 by Pindar "the most beautiful city of mortals") with 
 the rich men of those bygone days. In all directions 
 the scene is beautiful, but the enchantment is broken 
 by the distant cathedral bell, which seems to toll, one 
 by one, the centuries that lie between the poetic, 
 beautiful, moonlit temples and the stern mediaeval 
 church of the modern town. 
 
 So perfect has been our enjoyment of the Acragas 
 of old, that I could not be persuaded to even go into 
 the town of modern Girgenti. Far away among these 
 [493] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ruins it has been delightful to meet Mr. Robert 
 Treat Paine, his granddaughter, and a Radcliffe 
 friend of mine. We find that our journeys are to 
 lie parallel for a time and are looking forward to 
 seeing the Paine party in Taormina. We go to-mor- 
 row to Syracuse, and I shall write you further from 
 there. 
 
 T. 
 
 [494] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 Taormina, Sicily, May 
 My dear M: 
 
 WE had a delightful two days in Syra- 
 cuse, and enjoyed the strange La- 
 tomie, the Greek theatre, and other 
 wonders, but I fear we saw Catania 
 in a very American way, for we were there only a few 
 hours, but as Mr. Fog was kind enough to meet us 
 at the station we lost no time, and saw at least the 
 most important things. 
 
 First of all we drove to the Exposition, which was 
 really interesting, as it showed the industrial progress 
 and improvement of Sicily. Catania is famous for its 
 amber, and I greatly admired some beautiful small 
 specimens in the showcase at the Exposition. It was 
 not possible, however, to find any guard, as it was 
 just the noon hour, to ask if we might purchase them; 
 but in some miraculous way, I suppose through tele- 
 phones at luncheon time, Mr. Fog brought them to 
 the station, and I felt rather chagrined at my enthu- 
 siasm of the morning, when he insisted upon present- 
 ing the whole set to me with his compliments. They 
 are really beautiful, and I am sure you will enjoy 
 seeing them. Catania also has its interesting history, 
 and after Palermo is now the largest city of the island, 
 the seat of a Bishop and an excellent University, 
 founded by Alphonso of Castile, with a thousand stu- 
 dents. About eight thousand vessels enter and clear 
 the port annually, and the city counts many wealthy 
 [495] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 residents. The Marchese di Rudini has a villa near 
 here, as has also the distinguished Italian statesman 
 Marchese San Giuliano, but unfortunately they are 
 both in Rome now, though we had expected to see 
 them here. 
 
 I have just moved my writing table on to the bal- 
 cony of this extraordinary hotel Timeo; in fact, every- 
 thing about Taormina is unusually wonderful and 
 beautiful. We arrived at a little town Giardini on 
 the coast. Outside the station we found numerous 
 victorias with these sturdy Sicilian horses, harnessed 
 after the fashion of Naples with brass-studded harness, 
 jingling bells, and two long pheasant feathers placed 
 in a metal holder in the centre of the bridle between 
 the ears. Up the mountain we started just at sunset, 
 round and round the curved road we climbed, past the 
 long rows of tombs in the bank at the side of the road, 
 which the building of this highway has laid bare, and 
 which spoke of ancient days and ancient burials. At 
 last we turned into the gate of the little town and 
 drove up through a narrow paved street to the door of 
 what seemed to be a small hotel. The affable land- 
 lord greeted us and led us through a glass-enclosed 
 vestibule through another small room, and then down 
 a long flight of stairs. "Are we going to the cellar?" 
 I asked. "No, Signora, but the hotel is built on the 
 side of a mountain, and I think you will like your 
 rooms." With that we passed up a long corridor, 
 rather dark, but presently were shown into two rooms 
 where long French windows opened on to balconies, 
 and I am not sure whether we said anything further 
 to the landlord of the Timeo or not, for once I had 
 [496] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 stepped on to the balcony, I think it would have taken 
 a good deal to distract my attention. Just below, 
 almost within reach, were the branches of the blossom- 
 ing orange trees, and mixed with the perfume of the 
 orange blossom came the more delicate odor of count- 
 less roses, which I could see blossoming in the fascinat- 
 ing gardens on the mountain-side, over which the 
 balcony projected. Over the trees in the distance, the 
 eye caught the beauty of the blue sea, and from its 
 shores followed along the gradual curve ten thousand 
 feet into the air to the snow-crowned summit of Mount 
 Etna. I believe there is nothing in the whole world 
 as beautiful as the view at Taormina. It is almost 
 impossible to believe that the great massive cone of 
 Etna is so high, for everything about the mountain 
 and its surroundings is so immense, yet so perfectly 
 proportioned that measurement ceases to form a part 
 of one's consciousness. It is difficult to realize that 
 the distance around the base is ninety miles. 
 
 T. 
 
 Taormina, May 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 This is surely a fairyland, a sort of earthly para- 
 dise, to which I hope you will come one day with me, 
 for not to have seen Taormina is to have missed one 
 of the greatest joys of the world. F. B. and I started 
 out early this morning, not on the general route of the 
 tourist for the Greek theatre, but on donkey-back 
 for the mountain town even higher up than this won- 
 derful Taormina. Up we climbed, the sturdy little 
 [497] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 donkeys seeming to need no encouragement or urging 
 from the boys who patiently went alongside. The 
 pathway all along was lined with flowers which in 
 shape and form are like our sweet-peas at home, but 
 very much smaller, and of unusual copper and dull 
 yellow colors, countless cyclamen of various shades, 
 and many other flowers that I did not know. The 
 village of Mola has little of interest beyond the gor- 
 geous view from the ruined castle. Near the " Porta 
 Francese" there are rock tombs of pre-Hellenic origin, 
 and we went into the little church where we found 
 Miss Helen Reed jotting down notes of the quaint 
 blue-frescoed ceiling, for some incident in her future 
 stories, I suppose. While we were enjoying the view 
 from the castle, Mr. Paine and his young ladies joined 
 us, and on our return from the mountain I made a 
 tour of the one long street of Taormina, which is lined 
 with the most fascinating shops. You must know that 
 they are attractive if I, who detest a shop, can find 
 interest and pleasure in going to them. My little 
 donkey boy refuses to leave me, and when we came out 
 from the hotel after luncheon, I found him waiting with 
 a large bunch of roses that he presented to me, hat in 
 hand. Such roses they were, of varieties that we see 
 only in greenhouses at home; and as I exclaimed over 
 their beauty, the landlord of the hotel quietly said, as 
 he strolled out from the front door: *'But the garden 
 is full of them for you to pick every day, Signora." 
 
 I have succeeded in getting an unusual and beauti- 
 ful pendant: an enamelled pelican holding in its beak 
 a small ruby, and surrounded by its young. The pel- 
 ican is the one bird that picks its own breast to give 
 [498] 
 
HTIW .AHIM^OAT TA 3 J ^ W 3"1' 333^0 SHT lO 8^/TIU 
 
 ao^Axaia sht mi hoajjiv 3ht a^AAKTS .tm 
 (pp^ aoAi a as) 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 donkeys seeming to need no encouragement or urging 
 from the boys who patiently went alongside. The 
 pathway all along was lined with flowers which in 
 shape and form are like our sweet-peas at home, but 
 very much smaller, and of unusual copper and dull 
 yellow colors, countless cyclamen of various shades, 
 and many other flowers that I did not know. The 
 village of Mola has little of interest beyond the gor- 
 geous view from the ruined castle. Near the " Porta 
 Francese" there are rock tombs of pre-Hellenic origin, 
 and we went into the little church where we found 
 Miss Helen Reed jotting down notes of the quaint 
 blue-frescoed ceiling, for some incident in her future 
 stories, I suppose. While we were enjoying the view 
 from the castle, Mr. Paine and his young ladies joined 
 us, and on our return from the mountain I made a 
 
 t(Wf lotfs thff ana doQg BtTKetr ©fciTa^trraifiaj iiYhish ASAlh>^4 T H 
 with'^fhe mo'st f^lt?n^t^i!gM6fj^^^'6tt MIt Rft^^^&f 
 they are attractive if I, who detest a shop,^^c^n*fifi(f ^^^ 
 interest and pleasure in going to them. My little 
 donkey boy refuses to leave me, and when we came out 
 from the hotel after luncheon, I found him waiting with 
 a large bunch of roses that he presented to me, hat in 
 hand. Such roses they were, of varieties that we see 
 only in greenhouses at home; and as I exclaimed over 
 their beauty, the landlord of the hotel quietly said, as 
 he strolled out from the front door: "But the garden 
 is full of thpm for you to pick every day, Signora.'* 
 
 I have succeeded in getting an unusual and beauti- 
 ful pendant: an enamelled pelican holding in its beak 
 a small ruby, and surrounded by its young. The pel- 
 ican is the one bird that picks its own breast to give 
 [498] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 of its blood to its little ones, and is the emblem in the 
 Roman Church, as you remember, of Christ who gave 
 his blood for the saving of souls. Undoubtedly my 
 jewel formed a part of some church decoration, and I 
 am delighted to have found it. 
 
 Our sunset view of the Greek theatre was no dis- 
 appointment, and all the enthusiasms and florid 
 descriptions of authors in every language pale and 
 seem inadequate when one has seen the reality. Etna 
 is beautiful in the morning; Etna is majestic in the 
 broad sun of noon ; but Etna's snows tinged pink with 
 the slanting rays of the setting sun, which also color the 
 surrounding hills with deepest purple and the coast-line 
 to palest green, and all this vast wonderful harmony of 
 color seen with the foreground of the exquisite ruin of 
 the Greek theatre, with its narrow stage and its stately 
 columns, bespeaking the culture of that race, which 
 intellectually has had no superiors, is a picture that must 
 live in the memory of all who have seen it as supreme and 
 pre-eminent. There is something so vast, so perfect in 
 the expression of Nature here at Taormina, that man 
 seemed to slip into his proper proportion in the tiny dots 
 that the home-coming sails of the fishermen made on the 
 broad Mediterranean. 
 
 Of course we shall go again to the theatre, and go 
 over it carefully and intelligently, but to-night we 
 wanted the illusion, the perfect picture of beauty in 
 all its glory. The ruin of the Greek theatre, spoiled 
 in its symmetry by the Roman conqueror, spoke elo- 
 quently of the fickleness of ever-changing man, while 
 the perpetual snows of the great Etna told of the 
 eternity of Nature. Men have come and men have 
 [499] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 gone, and Tauromenium has become Taormina and 
 may still change its name, but the little three-cornered 
 island in the Mediterranean Sea will ever be one of the 
 most glorious spots on the earth's surface. 
 
 As I write, F. B. comes in with a large bunch of 
 cyclamen, bought, he says, for two "soldi," of a pretty 
 peasant girl at the hotel door. I have bought some 
 lovely old pieces of Sicilian drawn-work, which is 
 quite different from the Mexican, and of a much 
 higher order. Indeed, most people confound it with 
 filet or net lace into which the figures are darned, and 
 which was originally an imitation of these wonderful 
 drawn linen patterns. To-day as I passed up the 
 street I looked in at a room where some twenty little 
 girls, not over five years old, were struggling, each with 
 four knitting needles, and a patient young woman was 
 going the rounds teaching each one the intricacies of 
 the inevitable stocking, which at this early age they 
 must begin to knit. 
 
 We took tea at the Hotel San Domenico, formerly 
 a Dominican convent. Surrounded with roses, orange 
 blossoms, and all possible loveliness, we had another 
 view, always different but ever beautiful, of the great 
 majestic, smoking Etna. Afterwards we made a short 
 call on Baron von Gloden, who came to Sicily believ- 
 ing he had but a few months to live, and who found 
 in this sunny climate and bright clear air, health and 
 life. Amusing himself with photography, his amuse- 
 ment has become, with his restored health, a science, 
 and he now has the Gold Medal from nearly all the 
 great photographic exhibitions of the world. He has 
 kindly allowed me to reproduce his picture, and you 
 [500] 
 
Taken by the Ozi-ner Publish,.: r '•::,< ^ i „ n 
 
 THE GARDEN OF COUNT VON GLODEN's VILLA 
 
 AT TAORMINA, SICILY 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 can see the bower of roses in which his villa is 
 situated. 
 
 To-night we enjoyed the sunset in the other direc- 
 tion, looking toward the old Badia Vecchia, a fine 
 Gothic ruin on the side of the mountain, and beyond, 
 as a background, splendid great Monte Venere, the 
 lights catching the little pink villas that are dotted 
 here and there on its sides. We went, too, into the 
 tiny theatre that has recently been discovered in the 
 back yard of one of the houses on the main street. 
 Above the old Badia are the commanding ruins of 
 the great castle that was formerly the acropolis of 
 Tauromenium, which, after the destruction of Naxos 
 (of whose ruins we had a beautiful view from the little 
 town of Mola) by Dionysius, in 403 b.c, was founded 
 by the Siculi to whom Dionysius had granted the neces- 
 sary land. Timaeus the historian was born here. 
 
 This afternoon we took a drive to the beach below,, 
 and hired one of the peasants to take us out in his. 
 boat round the islands and into the strange grottoes, 
 whose sides are lined with crude coral. The effect 
 of the brilliant coloring through the clear water of 
 the Mediterranean is quite wonderful. There is an 
 Isola bella here, not decorated with a wonderful villa 
 as at Lago Maggiore, but with endless flowers and 
 graceful trees. The boatmen were very talkative,, 
 and we had a long row into numerous water caves,, 
 with the result that I came home laden with small 
 bits of this rough coral, which, however, they told 
 me at the hotel, will lose its color entirely when dry. 
 After tea on the terrace of the hotel overlooking the 
 garden, and encircled with trellises hanging with tea 
 [501] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 roses, we decided to take one last walk up and 
 down the narrow streets of this picturesque, quaint 
 little town. Stalwart girls, with heavy weights of 
 stone on their heads, smilingly greeted me, and I find 
 I am known on the street as "donna forestiera che 
 parla italiano*' (the foreign lady who speaks Italian). 
 The little knitting school had disbanded at this hour, 
 and my lace woman rushed out to tell me that her 
 husband, Giuseppe Oleri Anteri, had just come in from 
 a long tour on donkey-back into the mountains, where 
 he had bought from several old ladies precious laces, 
 taken perhaps unwillingly, but sold of necessity, from 
 hair-covered trunks, some of which he had also brought 
 along. The fascination of seeing these laces was too 
 great, and I was late to dinner to-night, and my pocket- 
 book is much thinner. I have chatted a bit with this 
 young, bright-eyed, peasant woman as we have gone 
 to and fro and up and down this little street of Taor- 
 mina, and so to-night, knowing that I was going away, 
 she brought out her husband's account book, and 
 showed me just what he had paid for the laces, and 
 said that I should take my pick at exactly what the 
 laces had cost him. I was greatly pleased to find a 
 long scarf with exactly the pattern which grandmother 
 worked under direction of the Sicilian nun in Boston in 
 her girlhood days. The lace is very old, but, as the 
 little woman said, "quite healthy," meaning free from 
 holes, and I can now understand the enthusiasm of 
 Sir Purden Clark for grandmother's shawl and his wish 
 to have it for a time at the Metropolitan Museum 
 in New York. The young girls now do not generally 
 have accomplishments so perfected as our grand- 
 [ 502 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 mothers of the dear old New England days. In any 
 case, I am bringing the scarf to you, and with it the 
 little peasant persuaded me to get several other rare 
 bits of Sicilian lace. 
 
 It is really too dreadful to leave this wonderful 
 place, but the days are getting to be very warm and 
 the lizards very numerous, so I suppose it is better 
 to go while the enchantment is still perfect, and the 
 desire to return will be all the more pressing if we 
 go before we have any unpleasant memories of heat. 
 I have tried to get water-colors which shall show the 
 tiny streets, the old houses; and, of course, we have 
 bought endless photographs of this wonderful, incom- 
 parable view, but they all fall far short of the reality. 
 There is no perfume in their air, there is no real sun- 
 shine in their color, and to know and understand 
 Taormina one must come here and feel, as well as 
 see, for oneself. I am glad that we left Taormina for 
 the last, for it really is the climax of the beauties of 
 Italy. I can understand Goethe's enthusiasm when he 
 said: *' Sicily is the key to all." 
 
 T. 
 
 Naples, May 
 My dear M: 
 
 The railroad from Taormina to Messina skirts the 
 coast, and much of the way the seashore is overgrown 
 with masses of scarlet and pink geranium intermingled 
 with great green cactus. We had only a hurried view 
 of Messina on our way here from Palermo, but the 
 city is most attractive, its splendid big white build- 
 [503] 
 
ITALIAN CASTLES 
 
 ings fronting on the sea. The harbor is very ani- 
 mated, and is formed by a peninsula in the shape of 
 a sickle. An excellent ferry took us, as our friends 
 had previously told us, quickly and comfortably to 
 Reggio. It seemed also as if we could reach from one 
 shore to the other, and in less than half an hour we 
 found ourselves in the train for Naples. Poor Messina 
 has experienced many vicissitudes, but it seems now 
 to be a thriving city.^ The morning passage to Reggio 
 gave us a wonderful view of Mount Etna, and I 
 would not have missed this visit to Sicily for a great 
 deal. Our trunks are packed, and to-morrow in 
 early morning we go on board the big liner. Last 
 evening we had a jolly dinner with friends. 
 
 T. 
 
 S.S , May 
 
 My dear M: 
 
 We are really started. Cesnola and Shearer came 
 down to say good-bye with other friends from Naples. 
 The little boats followed the steamer out of the harbor, 
 the boatmen singing their soft, sweet strains of " Addio 
 a Napoli." Of course we are glad to come home, but 
 we do not feel it, just at the time we sail out of this 
 magical harbor with the soft, plaintive tones of these 
 Neapolitan singers in our ears and the bright morning 
 sunshine making the whole city of Naples seem gay and 
 full of life. We have passed the beautiful islands of 
 Capri and Ischia ; the harbor with its wonderful curve, 
 and Vesuvius with its poor broken head (it will never 
 
 ^ See Appendix. 
 [ 504 ] 
 
AND COUNTRY SEATS 
 
 be as beautiful since the last eruption) is passing 
 gradually from view, and soon we shall be on the 
 broad Mediterranean. The letter will be mailed from 
 Gibraltar, very probably sent up to England, and I run 
 the risk of its taking a fast steamer and reaching you 
 before we arrive, since I have directed the envelope 
 "Via England." As I look back over the past year 
 it all seems like a magical dream, and I wonder if 
 my pen has told half of the happiness which I have 
 enjoyed, and if my letters will have taken you with 
 me on my journeys of pleasure and privilege to the 
 homes of my Italian friends. 
 
 T. 
 
 [505] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 IT is hardly possible to close this book of my letters, which 
 were written before the terrible earthquake, without some 
 reference, not only to the terrible disaster, but to the bond of 
 friendship which I think has grown out of the sympathy of the 
 American people for their suffering fellowmen in Calabria and 
 Sicily. The world records no such disaster from a life point of 
 view as that of Messina, though other earthquakes have caused 
 a greater displacement of the earth's crust. 
 
 The city contained, with its outlying suburbs, nearly one 
 hundred fifty thousand inhabitants, and was, next to Palermo, 
 the chief port of Sicily. It would seem that an unlucky star 
 shines over the city, so many disasters have one after another 
 befallen it. There are no remains now of the antique period, 
 although the city was founded probably about 732 B.C., according 
 to Greek tradition on the site of a Siculan town. Under the rule 
 of Rome, Messina was the capital of the island and had great 
 privileges. 
 
 Messina suffered an almost complete destruction by an earth- 
 quake in 1783 with a death roll of 29,515; another bombardment 
 in 1848, and another loss of 16,000 by cholera in 1854. After the 
 destructive shock of 1783, subsequent tremblings of the earth 
 were felt in 1894 and 1896, and as late as 1905 there were slight 
 earthquakes sufficient to cause a death-roll of 529. On the occasion 
 of the terrible earthquake of the twenty-eighth of December, 1908, 
 there was scarcely any warning. The shock was intense and far- 
 reaching and lasted thirty-five seconds; though it must be stated 
 that for several weeks preceding, slight shocks had been felt in 
 the vicinity of Messina. It is not easy for us to picture so much 
 disaster being caused in so short a space of time. Coming as it did 
 in the early winter morning (at 5.23 a.m.) the inhabitants of the 
 unfortunate town were taken completely unawares. Many died 
 instantly, and many more lived for days and weeks imprisoned 
 in the ruins of fallen houses, succumbing at last to the torture of 
 hunger and cold. Numerous stories have been told of the dis- 
 
 [507] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 tress and sorrow of individual cases, but, fortunately, fire did not 
 play its hideous part in the disaster as was the case in San Fran- 
 cisco, for there was little to burn, and the small fires started were 
 put out by the drizzling rain. Shortly after the shock the sea 
 receded a short distance from the shore, but returned again in a 
 tidal wave which washed over the neck of land forming the harbor, 
 destroying the breakwater, and wrenching a great steamer of two 
 thousand tons from its dry dock only to engulf it in the bay. 
 
 Prisoners and criminals were liberated in the crashing apart 
 of churches, homes, and prisons alike, but the arrival of the 
 soldiers who shot down those who tried to rob the dead soon 
 restored order to the devastated city. The submarine cable had 
 been broken, and all telegraphic communication was cut oflF, but 
 the torpedo boats lying in the harbor took the news as quickly 
 as possible up the coast to the first telegraphic station from which 
 a message might be sent. For all that, it was night before the 
 King and Queen could know of the terrible disaster that had 
 befallen a portion of their kingdom. Within twenty-four hours 
 Their Majesties started for the scene of the disaster, and Queen 
 Elena and the King personally assisted in the work of relief, 
 oftentimes themselves giving the first aid to the wounded. The 
 King had not wanted the Queen to accompany him as she was 
 not well at the time; and so overcome was this tender-hearted 
 and lovely Queen of Italy that it was impossible for her to stay 
 in the midst of so much suffering; but nothing that was in her 
 power to do was omitted, and once back in Rome the rooms of 
 the great Royal Palace of the Quirinal were turned into workshops, 
 and all her Ladies-of-the-Palace were called upon to aid in the 
 making of garments for the needy and suffering in Calabria and 
 Sicily. A strange sight, indeed, these magnificent ballrooms 
 fitted out with sewing machines, and the princesses and noble- 
 women of Italy all turning bravely to the task and becoming as 
 proficient seamstresses as they were Ladies-in-Waiting to Her 
 Majesty. Only the winter before there had been given in Rome 
 a course of First-aid-to-the-wounded, which had been attended by 
 nearly all the fashionable young women of Roman society. It 
 would seem that this had been Providential, for now many of 
 these women at once left for the hospitals of Naples and Sicily, 
 and proved efficient and helpful nurses to their suffering compa- 
 triots. Troops were also sent from Catania, Palermo, and from 
 [ 508 ] 
 
i\'\_ 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 tress and sorrow of individual cases, but, fortunately, fire did not 
 play its hideous part in the disaster as was the case in San Fran- 
 cisco, for there was little to burn, and the small fires started were 
 put out by the drizzling rain. Shortly after the shock the sea 
 receded a short distance from the shore, but returned again in a 
 tidal wave which washed over the neck of land forming the harbor, 
 destroying the breakwater, and wrenching a great steamer of two 
 thousand tons from its dry dock only to engulf it in the bay. 
 
 Prisoners and criminals were liberated in the crashing apart 
 of churches, homes, and prisons alike, but the arrival of the 
 soldiers who shot dov ho tried to rob the dead soon 
 
 restored order to the ity. The submarine cable had 
 
 been broken, and al! tel'-graj^nic communication was cut off, but 
 the torpedo boats lying in the harbor took the news as quickly 
 as possible up the coast to the first telegraphic station from which 
 a message might be sent. For all that, it was night before the 
 King and Queen could know of the terrible disaster that had 
 befallen a portion of their kingdom. Within twenty-four hours 
 Their Majesties started for the scene of the disaster, and Queen 
 Elena andPtiiC ^ia^ iparrJWiBiljLi^Mstfido W Atfet) 'vsOT'^lof relief, 
 
 King had not waifted-ftMe'iQuoen/l/tof aoftom^aA^T^iim as she was 
 not well at the time; and so overcome was this tender-hearted 
 and lovely Queen of Italy that it was impossible for her to stay 
 in the midst of so much suffering; but nothing that was in her 
 power to do was omitted, and once back in Rome the rooms of 
 the great Royal Palace of the Quirinal were turned into workshops, 
 and all her Ladies-of-the-Palace were called upon to aid in the 
 making of garments for the needy and suffering in Calabria and 
 Sicily. A strange sight, indeed, these magnificent ballrooms 
 fitted out with sewing machines, and the princesses and noble- 
 women of Italy all turning bravely to the task and becoming as 
 proficient seamstresses as they were Ladies-in-Waiting to Her 
 Majesty. Only the winter before there had been given in Rome 
 a course of First-aid-to-the-wounded, which had been attended by 
 nearly all the fashionable young women of Roman society. It 
 would seem that this had been* Providential, for now many of 
 these women at once left for the hospitals of Naples and Sicily, 
 and proved efficient and helpful nurses to their suffering compa- 
 triots. Troops were also sent from Catania, Palermo, and from 
 I 508 ] 
 
^ y^ /^^i^:;ZZ. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 the mainland even as far north as Genoa, but as there was hardly 
 a building left in Messina fit for shelter, they, too, suffered very 
 much, and many lost their lives in endeavoring to save others. 
 The wounded were removed from the city as far as possible by 
 boats to Naples, and by train to Palermo and Catania where they 
 were cared for not only in the hospitals and hotels but in the 
 private houses. 
 
 It was America's sorrow to lose Dr. and Mrs. Cheney, the 
 American Consul at Messina. A search for their bodies was 
 begun by the Italian soldiers, later relieved by the American 
 sailors. Both bodies were found on January 15th and death had 
 , evidently been instantaneous. It is gratifying to remember, and 
 it is only a proof of Sicilian gratitude, that when the bodies of 
 the American Consul and his wife were carried ashore by Italian 
 sailors from the ship " Venezia" in New York, wreaths were placed 
 on their coffins by members of the Italian Embassy at Washington 
 and the Italian Consul in the city of New York. The procession 
 was made up of Italian societies, men who gladly lost a day's work 
 and a day's pay to do honor to a man who had died at his post 
 in the service of a nation which had proved in a substantial way 
 its sympathy with the stricken people of Sicily and Calabria. 
 Though the American sailors did not arrive in the vicinity of the 
 earthquake until January loth, the quick action of the American 
 Congress and of the Red Cross, whose president is now our Presi- 
 dent Taft, sent consolation and comfort in the knowledge of the 
 approaching help. The International Red Cross acts under the 
 only universal conservation treaty in existence, and its provisions 
 have been extended to naval warfare by the treaty of The Hague. 
 
 Miss Mabel Boardman's work for the Society has been the 
 vivifying force of the American organization. She is a member 
 of the central committee at Washington, but holds no office in 
 the organization, though it is to her that President Taft looks 
 for the management of the details of the work in times of peace, 
 and she is practically the director, and certainly a commanding 
 figure in the American Red Cross of to-day. Every morning 
 finds her at the State Department at her desk, and though she is 
 a woman of wealth and culture whose position in society makes 
 arduous demands upon her time, she gives the greater portion 
 of her strength and interest to the conservation of human life. 
 
 At the time of the Italian disaster in 1908, Miss Boardman 
 
 [ 509 ] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 worked so diligently and so successfully in the collecting of funds, 
 and, what is almost more important, for their intelligent distribu- 
 tion, that the Italian government recognized her efforts and help 
 by the presentation of a laurel wreath of gold. 
 
 Miss Boardman always accentuates the fact, in her articles 
 and addresses on the subject, that it is possible for everyone 
 throughout the country to do at least something for the Red 
 Cross, which stands ready to do for all. She points out that the 
 Red Cross stamp as seals for letters is one of the many ways 
 within the means of everyone to add a little toward the main- 
 tenance of one of the grandest organizations in the world, for as 
 she has said in a speech delivered not long ago before the con- 
 servation congress held in Michigan: 
 
 "Above the passion of war, amidst the desolation of terrible 
 disasters, in the dangers of the daily occupations so many of our 
 fellowmen must undergo to earn their livelihood, does not the Red 
 Cross conserve, protect, and extend the great bond of human 
 brotherhood, and, touched by sorrow, make the whole world kin?" 
 
 The first real movement for the establishment of an organiza- 
 tion to do the work which the Red Cross now assumes had its 
 inception in the heart of that wonderful woman Florence Night- 
 ingale, who went to the Crimea and nursed the wounded French 
 and English soldiers who fell in the battles with the Russians. 
 Her work extended over a period of two years and attracted 
 international attention. Each evening after a battle she per- 
 sonally sought out the helpless on the field and won for herself 
 the affectionate title of "The Lady with the Lamp." So effectu- 
 ally had she gained the public's affection that when she returned 
 to England she was given two hundred fifty thousand dollars by 
 a grateful government, and with this sum she founded a training 
 home for nurses, which to-day remains as a monument to her 
 memory. 
 
 The Red Cross as a concrete agency, to preserve life and to 
 help suffering in times of disaster from fire, earthquake, and 
 various physical ills, as well as to bring aid to wounded soldiers 
 on bloody battlefields, however, owes its origin to Henri Dunant, 
 a philanthropic gentleman of Switzerland, who witnessed such 
 frightful suffering on the battlefield of Solferino near Mantua, 
 Italy, in 1859, where the wounded French and Italians numbered 
 sixteen thousand, and the Austrians twenty thousand. 
 [Sio] 
 

 MISS MABEL BOARD MAN 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 From this personal vision of horror and bloodshed he could 
 see how inadequate were the medical forces of the two armies to 
 care for even a part of their own injured, and upon his return to 
 Geneva he proposed to the Public Utility Society, a philanthropic 
 organization of that city, to start a movement for the establish- 
 ment of a volunteer force to supplement the work of the corps 
 of surgeons maintained in the hospital department of every army. 
 A general invitation to the nations of Europe to join in an inter- 
 national conference was sent out, and fourteen countries were 
 represented in the council which was held at Geneva in 1863. In 
 response to the Geneva invitation, thirty-six delegates from four- 
 teen nations of Europe — all except Turkey, Greece, Portugal, 
 and the Papal States — assembled in the Swiss capital, where in 
 conference it was recommended "that each government extend 
 its sanction of authority or protection to sanitary commissions 
 and other relief corps"; that in time of war the privilege of 
 neutrality be extended to ambulances, military hospitals, officials 
 of the medical services, regulars and volunteers, to nurses and to 
 the inhabitants in the theatre of war who should receive and care 
 for the wounded in their houses; and that the universal insignia 
 and flag of persons, officials, and volunteers who might assist in 
 the care of the wounded in war, and of ambulances and hospitals 
 in all armies, be a white flag or band with a red cross; the form 
 of the insignia being adopted as a tribute to Switzerland, the 
 parent country of the idea. The Swiss flag is a white cross on a 
 red background. 
 
 The United States took no part in this first conference, but the 
 next year two American delegates were sent to tell the inter- 
 national body of the success of the United States Sanitary Com- 
 mission, which had been organized at the opening of the Civil 
 War, and which had rendered valuable service to the Union army. 
 This testimony from the United States, showing definitely the 
 practicability of a movement similar to the proposed Red Cross, 
 proved a helpful inspiration and encouragement to the founders 
 of the new organization. The first American Red Cross was 
 founded a year after the close of the Civil War, and was known as 
 The American Association for the Relief of Miseries of Battle- 
 fields, and it was about this time that Clara Barton first came 
 before the public. 
 
 Miss Barton was a Government clerk in Washington in 1854 
 [511] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 and with the beginning of hostiUties between the North and 
 South entered the hospital service. After the war she organized 
 at her own expense a search for missing soldiers, and subsequently 
 followed the German army through the Franco-Prussian War. 
 At its close she was decorated with the Gold Cross of Baden and 
 the Iron Cross of Germany. It was largely through her efforts 
 that the American Red Cross of to-day was organized in 1881, 
 and she was its active President until 1904, when in the reorgan- 
 ization of the Society her place was filled by no less a person 
 than President William H. Taft. 
 
 President Taft has taken the greatest interest in the organiza- 
 tion, and by his personal influence and powerful help has rendered 
 invaluable service not only to the American but to the Inter- 
 national Red Cross Association. The amount of $976,000 was 
 expended through the American Red Cross for the Italian relief 
 work, and the congressional appropriation was $800,000 for the 
 Italian sufferers, substantial proofs indeed of American sympathy 
 and generosity toward Italy, that country which all men honor, 
 admire and love. 
 
 [512] 
 
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