M

F_dh

MZAr

fcgO

Isjrck »^Jj

v ¦ -^llll

E

VALLOMBEOSA

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IS BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE

VALLOMBEOSA

W. W. STORY
AUTHOR. OF 'ROBA DI ROMA,' * GRAFFITI D'lTALIA,'
'NERO,' ETC. ,

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXXXI

Y£4-

VALLOMBROSA.

IN the latter part of last October I found myself
in the lower slopes of the Apennines, on the
shadowy hillg of Vallombrosa. Its very name,
which Milton has made familiar to English ears,
has a poetic and romantic attraction ; and when
ever it is pronounced, there rises in the memory
his famous simile of the innumerable legions of
angelic forms ' ' who lay entranced,
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades
High overarched embower."
But of the many who know by heart these
magical lines, how few there are to whom Vallom-
A

2 VALLOMBROSA.
brosa is more than a sounding name — suggest
ing at best some vague place in the ideal realm
of dreams, through whose dense Etrurian coverts
of unnamed trees a fine poetic sunlight faintly
shimmers, whose dim and shadowy paths and
singing brooks are strewn by the ruffling winds
of autumn with a wealth of innumerable leaves,
and over which there hovers an undefined mys
terious charm of unreality ! Such at least it
was to me before I visited it in the body. Nor
did I find the dream those few lines had the
power to evoke to my imagination, quite untrue
to fact. Nothing could be more romantic, beau
tiful, and interesting in every way — whether
sleeping and murmurous "with whispers in the
summer and autumn, with shadowy coverts for
meditation, or rousing and wrestling with the
storm - winds that descend upon it from the
higher Apennines and assail its forests with their
fury in the winter months. It is never tame or
characterless, but silent, wild, lonely, secluded,

A MEDICI HUNTING-BOX. 3
gentle, or furious, according to the mood of the
season, and responsive to every touch of feeling
and passion.
I had been invited by a friend to pass a few
days with her and her family in one of the most
lonely regions of the large tract which bears the
name of Vallombrosa. The once famous con
vent lies at a distance of about three miles from
this spot ; and here, in one of the hollows, they
had hired an old deserted house, built centuries
ago by the Medici as a stronghold and hunting-
box, which they had fitted up and put into
habitable condition as a summer retreat from
the heats of Florence. Originally the house
was flanked by two tall towers, and was castel
lated in form ; but within the last few years the
present Government, caring little for the pictur
esque, and apparently seeking rather to oblit
erate than to preserve the traces of the past, had
ruthlessly and for no sufficient reason levelled

4 VALLOMBROSA.
the two towers and razed the upper storey : so
that the house is now a square unpicturesque
but solidly - built construction in stone, two
storeys high, and with walls massive enough to
resist the assault of anything but modern can
non. Here my friends had made their summer
home, far from all society and neighbours, to
enjoy freedom, solitude, and the silence and charm
of nature. There is no highway to lead the wan
dering tourist to their doors, and only friends
who are willing to brave a long romantic moun
tain-path practicable but to foot-passengers, or
donkeys, or treggie, find their way to this soli
tary spot. These treggie are merely the rudest
kind of sledge, made of two long solid planks,
with a seat midway, which are trailed along the
ground by patient slow-moving oxen. No car
riage on wheels could possibly bear the shock
and strain of these rough roads, if roads they
can be called, which rather resemble the rock-
strewn ways worn by mountain -torrents. So

DISTANT VIEW. 5
one is not liable to morning calls in the latest
of Worth's dresses, God be thanked; but the
foot-passenger in stout boots and country dress
is amply repaid for his walk, whether he come
by the way of Podere Nuovo on the north, along
a winding path through the woods, or by the
monastery on the south, over a road commanding
the loveliest and largest views over an exquisite
and varied valley strewn with far-gleaming vil
lages and towns, bounded by swelling outlines
of hills or mountains, one rising after another
against the delicate sky.
There, far away in the misty distance, can be
seen the vague towers and domes of Florence ;
and through the valley the Arno and the Sieve
wind like silver bands of light, through olive-
covered slopes and vineyards that lie silent in
the blue haze of distance, spotted by wandering
cloud-shades, and taking every hue of changeful
light from the pearly gleams of early morning

6 VALLOMBROSA.
to the gorgeous golden transmutations of twi
light and the deep intensity of moonlit mid
night. Nearer, magnificent chestnuts throng
the autumnal slopes, their, yellow leaves glowing
in the autumn sun. Sombre groves of firs, mar
shalled along the hillsides for miles, stand solemn
and dark. Beech-trees rear at intervals their
smooth trunks, or gather together in close and
murmurous conclave. The lower growth of
gorse, and broom, and brush, and feathered fern
roughen the hills, where the axe has bereft them
of their forest-growth ; and in every direction
are wild enchanting walks through light and
shadow, alluring us on and on for miles. Here
and there columns of wavering blue smoke
tower and melt away into the blue sky, where
the charcoal-burners are at work. Little brooks
come trickling down at intervals, finding their
devious way among the rocks and leaves, and
singing to themselves a low and silvery song.
Now and then a partridge whirs up beneath

GAME AND FOXES. 7
your feet, or a whistling woodcock suddenly
takes flight, or a startled hare with up-cocked
tail may be seen tilting through the underbrush,
or a sly fox steals cautiously away.
These foxes, which are very numerous, are the
bane of the place. They destroy the ground
game; and as it would not be possible to hunt
them with hounds over this wild and rugged
country, they are here merely a pest, and hateful
to sportsmen. Were it not for them and poach
ers (who, indeed, are comparatively few), the
game ought to be most abundant ; for the whole
country is Government" property, fairly well
preserved by the forest-guards, and none but a
privileged few are permitted to shoot over it.
Small birds, however, of every kind abound,
and the woods are musical all the spring and
early summer with their happy song. Here at
Vallombrosa itself they are protected against
their bitterest enemy, man, and from the un-
sportsman-like devices of net and snare, which

8 VALLOMBROSA.
are prevalent elsewhere throughout Italy. But
on the confines these are freely practised ; and
the Government grants to a very limited extent,
and for the small annual tax of fifteen francs,
the right of snaring by means of the paretaio, as
it is called. This is a long, low, narrow erection,
some six feet high in front, and covered with a
roof sloping down to the ground behind. The
front is pierced with slits for outlook ; and
within, .the sportsmen, if they are to be honoured
by such a name, hide themselves. It is placed
generally on open ground, with a square open
space before it, so as to be exposed to the sight
of all birds. In this space a number of caged
singing-birds are set at intervals, to attract by
their song all other wandering birds. On either
side of this square extends flat along the ground
a framed net, concealed often by brushwood and
seeded plants, and connected with the inside of
the paretaio with cords, by which they are
worked. Attracted by the murmur and flutter

SNARING BY THE PARETAII. 9
of the caged birds, gradually all the others in
the vicinity gather about the place and descend
to the ground — curious, apparently, to investi
gate the meaning of this strange construction,
and to make inquiries. When a sufficient
number are thus inveigled, the cords are sud
denly drawn, and the nets shut instantly together
over the space, entrapping the poor unfortunates.
Sometimes in one of these paretaii a hundred
little birds will be taken in a day ; and what
ever they are, large or small, they go to the spit
or the pan, and find a place on the table.
Formerly, the snare and net were universal
in Italy, and. all along the coast, in the season
of flight ; quails were thus taken by tens of
thousands as they alighted weary with their
long flight from Africa. But of late the present
Government has strictly prohibited this practice,
and now they are only allowed to be shot in a
sportsmanlike manner. Still, in the inland,
netting and snaring are almost universal ; and

io VALLOMBROSA.
everything is considered fair game, from the
smallest sparrow to the pheasant and wild
duck. But at Vallombrosa, despite these snares, the
woods are enlivened by the song of many a bird
in summer : and now, in the mid-autumn, they
still echo to the shrill scolding of the jay ; the
piping of the thrush, blackbird, and chaffinch ;
and the cheeping notes and trills of the lesser
tribes. Squirrels swing from bough to bough,
and run up the tall trunks. Grasshoppers flutter
about, and, spreading their gay shards, show the
gleam of blue wings beneath. And there is busy
insect-life swarming, buzzing, and whispering
everywhere in the woods. If one could only
know what they are saying !
" To one who has been much in city pent " it
is a pure delight, on bright autumnal days in
late October, to wander through the woods and
along the hillsides of Vallombrosa, vaguely,

A UTUMN WALKS. 1 1
without object, dreaming, listening, at one with
nature ; now climbing through the tangled gorse,
up steep rugged declivities, or lingering where
the roaring torrent dashes down its turbulent
sheets of foam ; now following the track of some
mountain stream through beech - groves ; now
lying at rest under some golden chestnut —
whose spiny burrs, showing the dark and polished
nuts within their cloven husk, strew the rough
grass underneath; now lingering to gaze out over
the rolling distance below, so silent and lovely ;
now treading the brown soft carpet beneath
the tall columnal firs, whose serried masts rise
thickly, climbing to the light, and swaying to
the breeze, and whispering to it unimaginable
secrets beyond our sense to catch.
On either side of the house are silent cathe
drals of firs, into which one can enter almost
with a step. The summer sun pierces not
through their summits ; but all is cool and
shadowy, and filled with a sort of dim religious

12 VALLOMBROSA.
light. Straighter pillars never were raised to
heaven, and finer murmurs of aspirations never
were heard in any human church. What do
they long for, these ever -whispering firs, that
are always remembering the murmur of the
distant sea ?
This is the country in summer days, or in
the quiet days of sunny autumn ; but it has its
wilder days of passion and tempest, when the
gale sweeps down the clefts of the Apennines,
and wakes to stormy music the wondrous harp
of nature. Then the whole forest roars in
answer to its call, and groans and quivers in its
every fibre, and rouses and wrestles with this
great invisible power, and shakes abroad its
tumult of leaves, and lashes to and fro its
branches ; and the blast with its furious trum
peting comes up the cloven defiles, and strikes
the bare vast slopes of the shorn hills, and, roar
ing for battle, sweeps thundering down the val-

STORMS IN THE APENNINES. 13
ley, crowding before it a tumult of cloud and
mist ; and from above the heavens themselves
respond with their dread artillery ; and, fierce
and swift, the lightning plunges its quivering-
blade into the earth, and strikes at random into
the woods, and a great crash is heard as some
tall leader of the forest falls.
Well sheltered, then, in our solid house, we
listen to it as it roars without, and beats and
howls at the windows, and lashes with gusts of
rain the streaming panes, and threatens us vainly
as we sit before our wide chimney, heaped with
logs that the storm itself hath shaken for us to
the ground ; and watch the tongues of darting,
passionate fire leap up the black throat of the
chimney, to join the stormy rout ; and every
now and then stop in our talk to listen, half in
awe. The Spirit of the Apennines is then worth
communing with. It has many a wild thing
to say that it is well for us to hear — -better
than gossip of the city ; and where can one hear

14 VALLOMBROSA.
it better than here in the heart of Vallom
brosa ? —
" When the Apennine walks abroad with the storm."
Then comes the winter. I shall be gone
then ; but the poor peasants will stay, and hear
what that has to say, when all the world about
is covered with its snowy shroud of silence, and
far off the valley smiles, like the happy valley
of Kasselas ; and they will crowd about their
great black-throated chimneys, rough with soot,
where blazes their fire of chips and broken
brush, and branches gleaned from the wrecks
of storm in the forest, and wish and wish, and
want, and sigh, and suffer. To me it might
have other things to say; to them it speaks of
poverty, of suffering, of hunger, of no work, and,
finally, of patience. This is the only flower,
perhaps, which will grow for them in winter ;
and it is at once one of the most precious
and one of the most common flowers that grows
in Italy — pazienza : and, poor things, they have

THE POOR— PAZIENZA. 15
need of it here in Vallombrosa. The wonder
is to me to see their patience and their cheer
fulness under the load they have to bear.
We boast of our civilisation — of the civilisa
tion of Europe and of the nineteenth century.
Alas for our civilisation, as we call it ! What
has it done, what does it do, to solve the great
problem of humanity ? Is all this poverty,
all this suffering of human beings, helped by
it, or is it caused by it ? — that is the question.
Is our so boasted civilisation the world bal
anced and tottering on its apex, or firmly
settled on its true pyramidal base ? Is Liberty
anywhere much more than a name ? Is it a
living principle doing good, or a dead pretence ?
Was the universal brotherhood of man bound
together by ties of love and animated by pure
and unselfish motives — the grand community
of Christ, where there should be no individual
ownership of property, no selfish abstraction,
and piling up of wealth only a vague and im-

16 VALLOMBROSA.
possible dream ? Were all His denunciations
of riches empty phrases ? Is there, of the
millions who bow down before the altar and
profess themselves Christians, any one who
really believes His doctrines, who is willing
to accept His conditions and renounce all per
sonal wealth ? If there be, I do not know him.
Certainly the world is not organised on such
principles. What would Christ say to the pre
sent state of things in Europe, — to the mighty
armies and navies that eat out its heart ; to the
wars, and bloodshed, and battles for which all
nations are arming and armed ; to the enormous
riches piled up in individual hoards ; to the
misery aud suffering of the poor perishing for
mere want at the doors of the rich. Is Chris
tianity anything more than empty phrases and
dogmas, and long prayers, and phylacteries, and
formal services, — or in our generation do we
pretend to know better than He what is best
and what is practicable ? If any one hints at

CHRISTIANITY AND CIVILISATION. 17
carrying out His system of universal brother
hood and" community of goods, is he not looked
upon pityingly ? Do we not shake our heads
wisely at him, and say, " Poor fellow, there is
a bee in his bonnet ! It would be better to
put him into an insane asylum " ?
Wandering through these woods, where na
ture preaches her sweet and beautiful gospel,
in these autumnal afternoons, I plagued my
mind with these thoughts ; and before I have
finished this little book you will see why I am
thus tormented, and why I foolishly doubt that
perhaps we have not, after all our boasting, and
all our fine words, and all our huzzas for liberty
and union, not only not solved the great pro
blem of government, but perhaps got hold of
it by the wrong end, and why it sometimes
seems to one as if we had organised the devil's
scheme instead of Ohrist's.
But we will put aside these considerations
for the moment, and yield ourselves up to na-
B

18 VALLOMBROSA.
ture, and bask in the sun, and drink of the
cup of beauty, and enjoy the blessings that
God has given as well as we can. There may
be a fly in the cup, but no matter.
A beautiful walk of about eight miles carries
us from our lonely house, through exquisite
passages of scenery, through golden chestnut-
groves and solemn fir -forests, to the ancient
monastery of Vallombrosa. The road com
mands through its whole course the valley of
the Sieve, and the rolling hills that swell and
sink and rise again in ever-varying lines and
masses, like the heaving of the billows in mid-
ocean, and lift themselves far away against
the horizon. Thousands of wild flowers smile
along our path. The wild clematis climbs the
shrubs, and drapes them with its silvery tufts.
The spiring broom clusters everywhere. The
wild rose, wearing now its coral hips, stretches
and gropes about in the air. Daisies and

WALK TO THE MONASTERY. 19
buttercups, purple scabias and pale pansies,
delicate blue -bells, pale -purple malva, white
broad-faced hemlock and silvery thistles, golden
arnica, autumnal cyclamen, blue corn-flowers,
St John's wort, and, in a word, all the common
people of the wild flowers, enamel the rough
sward. Here, too, long after the summer has
passed, still hides in the grass the wild straw
berry, for which Vallombrosa was famed of old.1
At last we come to a small rill, whieh, tumbling
over a rugged shelf of rock, goes its way through
a cleft of dark pines down into the plain. This
is the Salto del Diavolo, so called ; for, as the
legend goes, here the good saint Giovanni Gual-
berto was pursued by Satan, who caught him
in his claws and cast him down the declivity.
But it is difficult to kill a saint, and he fell
unharmed into the valley.
We now descend through a deep dark defile
1 " Et vaga prata ferunt sestu redolentia fraga, " says JLmylus
Acerbus, in his panegyric of San Giovanni Gualberto.

20 VALLOMBROSA.
of pines, where the sunshine even at high noon
scarcely penetrates, save here and there to freckle
with spots of light the brown damp carpet, — a
place that recalls that " deep romantic chasm "
of Kubla Khan, " which slanted "
" Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover, —
A savage place, as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover. "
And again climbing, we see before us the noble
old monastery — placed as only the monks knew
how to place a building, and commanding one
of the most magnificent views that can be found
even in this beautiful Italy. On one side the
sloping hills are dark with miles of serried firs ;
on the other, they are golden-brown with glowing
chestnuts ; and above, forests of beeches lift their
smooth trunks and climb the mountains. On
a flat terrace, in the midst of all this, stands the
monastery, a huge square building with inner
courts, in the centre of which is the church, with

THE HOLY FOUNTAIN. 21
its square tower lifting itself above the mass in
the sun. In front is an enclosed court, laid out
as a garden, and within a wall ; and passing out
from this through the gateway, we come upon a
large enclosed basin of purest water, fed by a
perennial and gushing stream, in which the
monks of old kept their preserves of trout in
prosperous days.
Still beyond are walks through alleys of trees ;
and on the left, about five hundred paces from
the gate, is a fountain which was once thought
to possess miraculous powers of healing. " Fon-
tis hujus aqua contra diversos dolores corporis
est attributa : ibi blanda medicina confertur, sine
tormento cura, sine horrore remedia et sanitas
impunita," says Cassiodorus (Variarum, lib. ii.
cap. 39). Such was the number of miracles
performed by this fountain, that for centuries it
was visited by pilgrims, and was held holy, some
what as the waters of Lourdes are to-day, though
by a far more limited number of believers.

22 VALLOMBROSA.
Here at this fountain San Giovanni Gualberto,
the founder of the monastery, journeying from
Florence alone in search of some retired hermit
age in which to hide himself, paused one sum
mer's day in the year 1008. He was of one of
the most noble and ancient families of Tuscany
— his father, Gualberto Visdomini, claiming to
come from the royal race of the Carlovingians
(the first of his family having been created eava-
liere by Charlemagne), and his mother being an
Aldobrandini, of the direct line of Hugo, Duke
of Tuscany. Indeed, according to the historian
Pietro Monaldo, his ancestry went much further
back, even to the times of Catiline, from whom
he directly descended. After that famous con
spiracy of ancient Eome was foiled by Cicero,
and its chief was driven from the city, two con-
giunti of his came to Umbria, and there estab
lished themselves. The one who came to
Florence took the name of Visdomini, and was
the ancestor of San Giovanni.

GIOVANNI'S REVENGE AND CONVERSION. 23
The young Giovanni was brought up in the
exercise of arms, and received the education of a
gentleman. He was naturally of a fiery dispo
sition. His early manhood had been given to
wildness, worldliness, and dissipation at least, if
not debauchery, and his conversion to a monastic
life was sudden and remarkable. One of his
friends, also a Visdomini, in a violent quarrel
with his brother Hugo, lost all command of him
self, and in a sudden fit of passion plunged his
dagger into Hugo's breast and killed him on the
spot. Giovanni, furious at his assassination,
swore to avenge it. Visdomini fled, and for a
time Giovanni pursued him in vain ; but at last,
on the morning of Good Friday, in the year
1003, as he was going escorted by his body
guard to Florence, they met in a narrow path
way in the forest, escarped on either side with
high rocks, where there was no escape. Draw
ing his sword, Giovanni told him to prepare for
instant death ; but his opponent, instead of de-

24 VALLOMBROSA.
fending himself, dropped on his knees, and spread
ing out his arms and hands in the form of a
cross, besought Giovanni to remember the day,
to spare his life, and to grant him that mercy
which otherwise he himself might vainly sue for
in another life. Something there was in the
mode of his prayer, and the expression, tone,
and attitude of the man, which seemed to have
touched to the quick the sensitive spirit of Gio
vanni, and operated an instant revolution of feel
ing and purpose. He forgave him on the spot,
assisted him to rise, and dismissed him in safety
with his blessing. He then at once repaired to
the neighbouring monastery, at San Miniato,
and there prostrated himself before a crucifix
in prayer. As he gazed up, the figure of Christ
bent his head to him, as if in approval of his
act of clemency. The miracle so affected him
that he at once went to the abbot, solemnly ab
jured his former life and courses, and begged to
enter the confraternity as a brother monk. The

GIOVANNI REFUSES TO BE ABBOT. 25
abbot at first refused to receive him, fearing the
rage of his father, but finally consented, and
Giovanni then took the religious vows in April
1004. From this time forward he was no longer the
same man, but distinguished himself by his
humility, piety, and devotion to his new calling,
and soon acquired so great a reputation and in
fluence, that on the death of the abbot in 1008,
he was unanimously chosen to take his place.
This office, however, he could not be induced to
accept, declaring himself, in his humility, to be
unfitted for it in any way — by all his previous
life, by his personal wishes, by his general in
capacity to guide others — and stating that his
own desire was rather to seek some peaceful
and solitary hermitage, where he might spend
his life in silent self-communion and prayer,
as a hermit, afar from men and from the possi
bilities of ambition. Filled with these senti
ments, he soon after left the convent, and wan-

26 VALLOMBROSA.
dering forth on his solitary way from Florence,
ascended the lonely hills of Vallombrosa. Here,
weary and thirsting from his hot walk, he stopped
beside the fountain which afterwards acquired
such celebrity : the cool waters refreshed him ;
and enchanted by the magnificent prospect
which opened before him, he here determined to
stay, persuaded that this was to be the end of
his wanderings, to which the hand of God had
led him. The forest gave him shelter and food
sufficient for his wants ; the cool clear spring
poured its perennial waters for his drink ; and
against the fear of serpents and wild animals,
which then infested the woods, he found a de
fence in prayer.
In the neighbourhood were two hermits named
Paolo and Guntelmo, who had here established
themselves, and were living in two miserable
huts. These joined him almost immediately ;
and little by little, though against his will at
first — for he desired rather to live in solitude —

WILD BEASTS AND DEMONS. 27
there gathered about him a small company of
monks and hermits. They built a series of rude
huts for shelter — in front of each of which was
planted a cross, to conjure away demons and
wild beasts — erected in the centre a place of
prayer, and enclosed the whole with a circular
wooden paling. Among the enemies which
surrounded San Giovanni, or which he imagined
to surround him, were wild beasts and demons ;
but his most serious and palpable foes were the
bands of robbers who here found refuge, and
who did their utmost to drive him thence by
threats and assaults. The little community were
beaten cruelly at times, their huts were torn
down, and death threatened if they remained.
But all was vain. They made no defence,
suffered in silence, prayed for their enemies,
returned good for evil, fed them in want, tended
them when ill, and finally thus overcame them,
and were left in peace.
The fame for sanctity of their leader — or pre-

28 VALLOMBROSA.
positor, as he was called at first — spread through
out the land. The nobles of the surrounding
country gave him aid and protection, granted
him lands, and advanced him means to build a
church. The Emperor Conrad IL, with the
Empress Gisela and all the Court, paid him a
visit, and, touched by the piety and poverty of
the little community, made them large presents.
Gifts and grants of land poured in on all sides.
Among the chief donors may be mentioned
specially the Abbess Itta (head of the convent
of St Hillario or St Ellero) ; the Counts Guidi,
who were the direct descendants of Otho I., and
the principal owners of the land thereabouts ;
afterwards the famous Countess Matilda, who
conferred special honours and grants upon them ;
and the republic of Florence, which not only
remitted all taxes upon the monastery, but also
gave lands and favoured it in every way. The
place was then called Acquabella and Acqua-
buona, from the supposed miraculous virtues of

LIFE OF THE MONKS. 29
the fountain, and it was not until long after that
it received the name of Vallombrosa.
The life led by the monks was half claustral
and half eremitical, and their penances and self-
inflicted privations almost intolerable. At times
they scarcely ate anything, reducing themselves
to the point of starvation, and treating even a
drink of pure water as a luxury not always per
missible. One loaf of bread a-day was divided
among three ; and often this was made simply
of crusca, the husks of the grain : and when this
was wanting they lived on roots, and wild herbs,
and nuts, and whatever they could pick up in
the woods. But these penances, they at last
found, were beyond human strength and resist
ance, and they came to the conclusion that God
could not require of man more than man could
bear. Still they practised extreme abstemious
ness, strove in every way to drive out the demon
of desire, that, despite their utmost efforts, would
possess them, and endeavoured to be chaste, vir-

30 VALLOMBROSA.
tuous, and unselfish. Above all, they practised
hospitality from the very first, devoting them
selves to good offices for the poor, and adminis
tering all their means to the succour of the mis
erable and suffering. One of their penances
was to plunge their feet in ice-cold water, and
there keep them till" they were nearly frozen.
And thus, with prayer, reading holy books,
fasting, working on the ground, and tending the
sick, they passed their lives. Finally, they
adopted the complete ordinances of the Bene
dictines. The benediction of God, they thought, was
manifested to the prepositor, San Giovanni, by
a fact they considered miraculous. The tree
which grew beside his hut, anticipating the or
dinary season, put forth its leaves long before all
the others ; shaded it during the summer with
its abundant foliage ; and was the last, when
winter came, to shed its leaves on the ground.
This was repeated year after year, and was con-

A MIRACULOUS TREE. 31
sidered a miracle, so that a wall was built about
the tree, and it was consecrated and held in
highest reverence. This tree was in the year
1008 full-grown; and in 1640, when Diego de
Franchi wrote his ' Life of San Giovanni Gual
berto,' it was still flourishing, and a print of it
is engraved in his biography, surrounded by a
wall, and with an inscription. What is sup
posed to be the same tree, surrounded by a wall
corresponding in appearance to the old print, is
still living and flourishing after these many
centuries. The monastery grew in numbers and in fame ;
and the Countess Matilda, in addition to her
donations, conferred upon the prepositor or prior
— or abbot, as he finally was called — the title
of Count of Magnale, — the same title to pass to
his successors. These donations were confirmed
at a later period by the Emperor Otho IV., who
took the convent under his special protection, and
gave the title of Marchese di Monteverde to the

32 VALLOMBROSA.
prior. The original hermitage (Eremo), as it
was called, was built in 1015 ; but as time
went on, it was repeatedly enlarged and rebuilt.
In the fifteenth century the cloisters were in
creased and a new church erected ; and finally,
in 1640, the facade, as it now appears, was
added under the pastorate of Don Averardo
Mccolini of Florence, and the church and mon
astery enriched by pictures, statues, codices, en
gravings, and a large and valuable library.
It is not a matter of any great importance, as
far as this little book is concerned, to establish
the exact dates of the various events in the life
of San Giovanni Gualberto, nor, indeed, would
it be easy to do so, as there is a discrepancy in
regard to them among the accredited chroniclers
of Vallombrosa and biographers of the saint,
amounting to nearly thirty years. But in order
to avoid the imputation of carelessness on this
point, it may be as well briefly to indicate the
authorities for the dates I have given.

CHRONOLOGY. 33
The historians of the Benedictine Order gene
rally fix the date of the arrival of the saint at
Vallombrosa at 1008, and of the foundation of
the hermitage there at 1015 : Ascanio Tam-
burino states it even earlier, in 1012. Padre
Helyot, however, is of opinion that the estab
lishment of this hermitage could not be earlier
than 1039, and in defending this view he argues
the question at considerable length. The date
of the saint's death in 1073 seems to be well
established, but the date of his birth, and of the
period when he went first to Vallombrosa, is
extremely doubtful, — -and on this point the
authorities do not agree. Andrea da Genova,
Taddeo Ademaro, and Diego Franchi agree as
to the date of his death, and say that he was
then eighty years of age. This would fix the
date of his birth at 993 ; but if this be so, he
would have been only sixteen years of age in
1008, when they say that he went to Vallom
brosa. This, according to their own dates, must
c

34 VALLOMBROSA.
be a mistake, since they affirm that he assumed
the monastic dress at eighteen years of age,
stayed four years at the convent of San Miniato
before going to Vallombrosa, and there remained
seven years before building the first hermitage.
Giving him one year at Camaldoli, this would
have brought him to Vallombrosa in 1016, and
fixed the foundation of the hermitage at 1023.
Padre Abbate Davanzati (a Vallombrosan) clears
up these dates very simply by stating that he
was eighty-eight years of age, and not eighty,
when he died. This would give his birth at
985, and adding eighteen years — the age at
which he took his vows — four years spent at
San Miniato, and one year at Camaldoli, would
fix his arrival at Vallombrosa at 1008, as they
state. Moroni also gives the date of his birth
at 985 ; Padre Soldani, the Vallombrosan, also
fixes the date of the first hermitage at 1015,
seven years after his arrival, and in this he is
supported by various authorities.

TEMPTA TIONS AND PENANCES. 35
Undoubtedly, when the hermitage was first
established, there might have been something
to fear from the beasts of prey, wolves, and
serpents with which the forest then abounded,
according to tradition ; but besides these, the
saint himself declares in a letter — and in this
he is upheld by various writers of the period
— that terrible voices were heard at night all
around them, which they held to be voices of
demons, and phantasms of the Evil One ; and
even a fierce dragon and basilisk threatened
their lives. But all these were quelled by
prayer, as they were probably evoked by the
excitement of the brain and nerves occasioned
by too prolonged abstinence from food. The
penances and privations of the saint himself
were carried to such a point that he was subject
to constant fainting-fits, to syncope, and even
tetanus, so that his teeth were locked together,
and he could only be relieved by prising them
apart with a knife, and administering some

36 VALLOMBROSA.
stimulants. In such a state it is easy to ac
count for all these visions, which were then held
to be devilish temptations. More efficacious
than his prayers, seems to have been the more
generous diet which at last he was forced to
take, — condescending under great pressure to
add to his nourishment a few ounces more of
food, and at times to partake of something
cooked, and even to take a fomentation of wine
— inasmuch as the Apostle permitted a little
wine for the stomach's sake.
The great precepts of the monastery which
San Giovanni preached and ordained, were
charity and hospitality. In process of time
the monastery grew rich with the many dona
tions of the pious, and was enlarged, and in
creased in influence and in numbers. A hos
pital was then established for the sick, and for
the poor, where medical aid was given and food
supplied to those who were in need and suffer
ing. All charities and donations they accepted

CHARITY AND HOSPITALITY. 37
in trust for those who, were ill and poor ; and,
as it would seem, these were administered in a
thoroughly Christian spirit, so that the poor
and sick of- all the country about blessed these
monks. Besides this, in the way of hospitality
they gave free lodging and food to all honest
travellers or visitors for three days. The fifth
part of all their revenues they devoted to the
hospital. The laws of their order not permitting
women to enter the monastery, they built a
house expressly for them, for sick, poor, and
visitors, where all the obligations of charity and
hospitality were performed. So the monastery
became celebrated everywhere, and every one
sang its praises. " Vallombrosa," says Ariosto —
' ' Vallombrosa, cosi fu nominata una Badia
Eicea e bella ne men religiosa,
E cortese a chiunque vi venia." *
For their motto they had, says De Franchi,
" Obedience to one's elders, community of life
* Cant. 22, st. 36.

38 VALLOMBROSA.
and property, concord between the brothers, and
love to one's neighbours."
Besides keeping up the monastery at Vallom
brosa, the Abbot San Giovanni applied the
revenues of this property, which had now be
come very large, to the erection and establish
ment of a number of other monasteries under
similar regulations, and of restoring still others
which had fallen into decay. The utmost efforts
of the abbot were specially directed against
simony, and to insure decorum and honesty of
life and doctrine. Despite his ill -health, he
travelled much in search of good works to do,
and to succour the poor. " Prsecipuus pauperta-
tis amicus " was the title given him by the writers
of his time. " Well though he knew that riches
are thorns " {spine), says De Franchi, " and that
it is far better to be without them than not
fitly to employ them, he ever feared, although
his brethren monks held them in common, that
their hearts would be impelled by them to

THE FRIEND OF THE POOR. 39
courses averse from peace and purity. There
fore he resolved to deprive them of a portion of
their riches, reserving only what sufficed for a
tranquil and a happy life, and thus blessing,
with the gifts that they had received from the
laity, the laity and the people. In order to
supply the wants of the needy, he laboured
himself with his old and infirm body to culti
vate the -land and the gardens around, thus
setting an example to all other monks, and
would not allow his own monastery to have
riches which were not used in common and
with humility of spirit." 0 si sic ornnes ! Well
may we cry with De Franchi, " 0 vicissitudine
delle antiche virtu. ! 0 vestigie smarrite ! "
Plague and famine, and earthquake and tem
pest, at this time came upon Italy, and San
Giovanni made a tour of visits to the various
monasteries subject to his authority, to see that
the hospitals were well furnished, and open to
all who needed aid, reproving severely those in

40 VALLOMBROSA.
which he found a surplus of provisions set aside,
and praising those wherein the monks had ex
posed themselves to suffering in order to expend
their utmost means in charity. " Cur, inquit,
adeo abundamus, cum multos egere videamus ? "
To these noble sentiments and acts the world
responded, and the more that was given away,
the more was brought to his door. One day
the monks found themselves without anything
to eat except three loaves of bread. By order
of the abbot a sheep was killed, and the meat
was placed on the table. But all refused to eat
of it, and satisfied themselves with the crumbs
of bread that remained. The next morning, a
number of sacks of corn and grain, and other
comestibles, were brought to their gate, and the
drivers would say nothing but that it was a
gift, sent by gentlemen whom they would not
name. The gates of the monastery were then
surrounded by the poor, and everything was
given away. On another occasion, when the fail-

SAN GIOVANNI'S DEATH. 41
ure of the harvest had brought much suffering to
the poor, he ordered the granaries of the mon
astery of St Salvi to be opened, and every one
who was in need to be supplied to the last
grain. In another season of famine he sold all
the sacred vases and utensils of the church,
and all the priestly ornaments and dresses, to
give their proceeds to the hungry. I give these
particulars to show the spirit which animated
this noble abbot ; and between then and now
the reader himself may make the comparison,
and see how far we have improved on his
administration. Many are the miracles attributed to San
Giovanni, but these we will leave aside. The
great miracle was the goodness of the man, and
the noble work he did. In the year 1073 he
died, at the good old age of eighty-eight years.
The same spirit which had animated San
Giovanni continued to govern the Order, and

42 VALLOMBROSA.
his memory and precepts were held in highest
honour and reverence. The monastery flourished,
and grew in wealth and territory until it pos
sessed a vast country, rich in pasture and forest,
keeping up its reputation for charity and hospi
tality, and affording asylum and sustenance to
all the poor who came to its gates. The land
was well cultivated ; the willing labourer always
found work there ; and many were the pilgrims
who visited it from all parts of Europe, to all of
whom it accorded a generous hospitality. Here,
among others, came Milton, in the flower of his
youth, to gaze on this magnificent panorama, to
store his mind with images and pictures — that
long remained vivid when the outer windows of
his sight were closed — to study in the library,
to pace the terraces, to ponder the grand poem
of his later years, and to leave behind him a
memory dear to all who love English poetry.
The landscape is still the same as when he saw
it, and the leaves strew the hillsides as thickly

MILTON 'S VISIT. 43
as when he wandered among these shady groves.
His shadow walks with every English traveller
through the long corridors, where once the
monks who are now but dust listened to his
silvery tones, and wondered perhaps at this
fair youth, with long and golden hair, who
came from a far-away country, and spoke softly
if brokenly in their native tongue. The charm
of this place long lingered in his mind, and he
apparently drew upon it for his description of
Paradise in his great poem. Already, while
pacing these cloisters and woods, he was medi
tating an epic work, the theme of which was
the history of King Arthur and his knights ;
and in a Latin poem addressed at this time to
his friend Manso, Marquis of Villa, he thus
alludes to it : —
" Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,
Arturumque etiam sub ten-is bella moventem,
Aut dicam invictas sociali foadere mensae
Magnanimos Heroas, et (0 modo spiritus adsit)
Frangam Saxonicas Britonum sub Marte phalanges ! :'

44 VALLOMBROSA.
This, however, gradually faded from his mind,
and gave place to the loftier and grander theme
to which he afterwards dedicated his great
powers. The impression made by Vallombrosa
never left him ; and perhaps it was the memory
of this lovely landscape, with Florence in the
distance, which rose before his blind eyes when
he wrote these lines : — ' ' As when a scout
Through dark and desert ways with pain hath trod
All night, at last, by break of cheerful dawn,
Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill,
Which to his eye discovers unaware
The goodly prospect of some foreign land
First seen, or some renowned metropolis
With glistering spires and pinnacles adorned,
Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams." *

* ' Paradise Lost,' Book iii. 543 ; see also Book iv. 135. So,
too, he recalls this spot in his " Epitaphium Damonis," where
he says — " At jam solus agros, jam pascua solus oberro,
Sieubi ramosse densantur vallibus umbrse ; "
or where he speaks of " Flumina, fontesque vagos, nemor-
umque recessus," in the same poem, his friend Carlo Deodati
being the Damon of the poem.

GUIDO D 'AREZZO. 45
Among the other memories attached to Val
lombrosa is that of the monk Guido — commonly
called Guido d' Arezzo or Aretino — to whom we
owe the modern method of notation in music,
the ordination of the gamut, the arrangement of
notes in lines and spaces, and the names ut, re,
mi, fa, sol, la, which he first gave to the notes,
and which they still retain. Whether he actu
ally resided here is open to doubt. Very little
is known accurately in regard to his life. The
dates of his birth, and his death are only proxi
mately established ; , but he is believed to have
been born towards the end of the tenth century —
in or about 995. It also seems to be established
that he was a monk of Pomposa, and abbot of
some convent, — whether at Camaldoli, Vallom
brosa, Sta Croce d'Avellana, or elsewhere in
Italy, Germany, Normandy, is questioned : all
claim him. If he resided at Vallombrosa, it
must have been in the very early days of that
monastery, since the original Eremo was only

46 VALLOMBROSA.
built in 1015, and towards the latter part of
his life. But whether or not he was here in
fact, here he is in tradition at least, and his
memory is associated with this place ; and here
we may fancy him walking through the forests,
meditating his musical scheme, and chanting
the hymn of San Giovanni, from the first syl
lables of which he took the names which he
gave to the musical notes : —
Ut queant laxis,
.Ke-sonare fibris,
ifj'-ra gestorum,
Fa-sms\i tuorum,
Sol-ve polluti,
ia-bii reatum,
Sancte Joannes.
Here also — under the shadows of these trees,
and along these hills — might once be seen the
august figures of the famous Countess Matilda,
the Empress Gisela, the Abbess Itta, the Count
ess Ermellina; of the Emperors Conrad IL,
Henry IIL, and the third and fourth Othos,

HISTORICAL PERSONAGES. 47
and long afterwards, Lorenzo the Magnificent ;
of the Popes Victor IL, Alexander II. and IV.,
Innocent IL, Pascal II. (all of whom were
monks of Vallombrosa), Leo IX., who made a
journey to Vallombrosa expressly to see San
Giovanni, and many another Papal figure.
But the most interesting and prominent of all
the Papal figures associated with Vallombrosa
is that of the famous and haughty Hildebrand,
afterwards Gregory VII., who carried the Papacy
to its utmost height of domination, triumphed
over imperialism, forced Henry to his knees at
Canossa, and finally was driven from Eome to
end his days at Salerno "with the proud and
bitter saying, " I have loved justice and hated
iniquity, and therefore I die in exile." Here
we may see him in imagination traversing the
forests alone, and pondering earnestly the future ;
or accompanied by his devoted patron and friend
the Countess Matilda, pausing under the shadows
to discuss with her the claims of the Church, and

48 VALLOMBROSA.
lay out plans for its aggrandisement and purifica
tion. Here, according to some historian, it was
that he first assumed the monastic robes and
took his early vows, before he went to Cluny ; and
with these murmurous woods his name and his
figure are closely associated, at least by tradition.
Various are the accounts as to where he first
took orders and made his vows as a monk. The
first is that of Ottone Frisonga (1150), Baronius
(1048), and Bernried (1120), who assert that it
was at Cluny. The second is that of the Bol-
landists, who say that it was at the monastery
of Sta Maria del Monte Aventino at Pv,ome ;
the third, that it was in Domo S. Petri ; the
fourth, that it was at the monastery of San
Benedetto de Calvello, near Soana ; and the last,
that it was at the monastery at Vallombrosa.
This is directly affirmed, among other writers,
by Padre Soldani, himself a learned Vallom
brosan monk, in his ' Questioni Vallombrosene '
and his ' Istoria di Passegrano,' and particularly

HILDEBRAND. 49
defended and sustained in an elaborate series of
letters on the subject, in which the whole ques
tion is discussed (' Sopra il Monacato e la
Parentela di S. Gregory VII.) His view is
supported by the Sacra Congregazione de' Eiti,
which decreed on the 21st of January 1.673
that Gregory should be placed in the " Martiro-
logio Romano" for the day of the 25th of May,
under the title of Vallombrosan Monk. Soldani
also asserts that he was related to San Giovanni
Gualberto, which lends probability to his view.
Whatever be the real facts, as we wander
through the woods of Vallombrosa we may,
without fear of critics, give loose to our fancy,
and dream at least that we see that noble figure
of Gregory walking through its meditative paths.
Besides these memories also we may recall
San Pietro Igneo, who here underwent the ordeal
of fire, and passed unharmed through the flames ;
and Beato Tesoro Beccaria, the martyr ; and San
Torello, and San Benedetto Uberto of the royal
D

So VALLOMBROSA.
blood of the Longobards, and many another
priest and monk of note. Here, too, lived the
distinguished botanist Buono Faggi, and Father
Hugford, the English Benedictine, who, in the
last century, revived and improved the art of
imitating marble in scagliola, and specimens of
whose skill still hang on the walls of the mon
astery ; and (as tradition says) Mattio Bandello,
the author of the famous novelle, that rival those
of Boccaccio — at least in their looseness, if not
in their style ; and here, too, wandered often
Christofano Landino, who wrote the celebrated
comments on Dante, and whose mummied body
may still be seen in the church at Borgo-alla-
Collina, about fourteen miles distant, with this
inscription : —
' ' Di Dante, di Maron, del Venosino
Quei che seppe spilgar gri alti pensieri
Miralo, passegler, quest' e il Landino —
D'Ovidio imit6 i versi lnsinghieri —
Spiro nel gran Lorenzo estro divino — ¦
Dopo tre scorsi omai secori interi
Incorotto lo vedi ; anche il suo frale
Par che natura reso abbia immortale."

SPOLIATION BY NAPOLEON. 51
And here Francesco Berni, coming from his
native town of Lamporecchio, meditated those
humoristic and sarcastic poems that gave his
name in Italy to all similar compositions.
For eight centuries this monastery flourished,
and to a certain extent at least preserved its
high reputation for charity and hospitality.
But in the beginning of the present century a
sad change came over its fortunes. The first
bolt of doom fell upon it when Napoleon in
1810 swept away with a rude conquering hand
the right of ecclesiastical property, confiscated
most of the conventual houses, seized their pos
sessions, and drove the monks forth to seek
what refuge they could in the world. Vallom
brosa was not excepted from his ban. The
monastery and church were despoiled of tlieir
treasures. Its large domains were seized, and
the monks themselves were forced to abandon
the asylum which had been the home of their
order for centuries.

52 VALLOMBROSA.
After the fall of Napoleon, when Austria re
sumed its sovereignty in Tuscany, the monks
were reinstated as far as possible by Leopold in
their rights and possessions, and again returned
to the monastery. A considerable portion of
their lands had, however, in the meantime, been
sold, and passed into the hands of other proprie
tors, and this could not be reclaimed. Still a
large part of it remained, and this again became
theirs. Their return was welcomed by all the
neighbourhood, and especially by the peasants
and the poor, who all had felt the benefit of
their charity, and many of whom had earned
their living by labour on the land. They ad
ministered the property well, and the large
profit it yielded seems to have been devoted to
good ends. The poor and disabled found always
at the convent doors their soup and bread. The
able-bodied were hired to work in the fields, to
tend the cattle and herds, to cut the trees, to
gather the dead wood or the fruits of the forest,

THE MONKS REINSTATED. 53
and thus they earned a fair living. If ill, they
were taken care of, and found beds in the hos
pital, and fitting medicines, free of expense.
The number of monks was in later times
about 150, varying a little from year to year.
Their lives were not as empty as the lives of
most monks are ; for besides their religious exer
cises and their studies, from which latter no par
ticularly valuable literary results seem to have
been derived, they had other outdoor duties and
amusements to occupy their time and their
minds. Mounted on their donkeys or the* small ner
vous horses of the Maremma, they made their
rounds of the woods and fields to superintend
the farms, the forests, the herds ; or with their
guns on their shoulders, and accompanied by
their dogs, they pursued the game with which
the place abounded.
The austerity of the early days declined as
time went on, though the strict rules of the

54 VALLOMBROSA.
order were kept. One particular penance, how
ever, they always continued to practise. This
was to rise at one o'clock every morning, and go
from their cells to the church, there to recite
their prayers. The monks were genial and
kindly to the peasants, and to all with whom
they had intercourse, and they were universally
liked. The scandal is — and it may be nothing
but scandal — that they did not all observe very
strenuously the strict laws of that chastity which
in earlier days was enforced ; and it was the
belief that they were the fathers of many of the
children in the neighbourhood, particularly in
the little village of Tosi. Whether this be true
or not, it did not at all embitter their relations
with the fathers, husbands, or brothers : all was
certainly taken in good part, and if anything
was to be forgiven, it was forgiven and smiled
at. Certain it is, that whatever of this kind
may have occurred, it was quite exceptional to
the character and habits of the main body of

SEMINARY AT VALLOMBROSA. 55
the brothers, who led a simple dignified life, and
were anything but idle and useless members of
society. Besides all the rest of their duties, they
occupied themselves in public instruction, and
founded at the monastery a seminary or college
for the education of young men of rank. The
Eev. John Chetwood Eustace, in his ' Classical
Tour through Italy,' who visited the convent in
the early part of this century, about the year
1810, characterises this seminary as "excellent."
" Many of the Florentine youth of rank," he
says, "were there at the time of. our visit.
Their dress is a black gown with a black collar
lined and edged with white. We were present
at one of their amusements, which was the
Calcio or Balloon, a game of great repute both
in Italy and France. Their looks and manners
seemed to display the advantages, both physical
and moral, of the situation."
The old belief of San Giovanni and his

56 VALLOMBROSA.
brother hermits as to the wild beasts, basilisks,
and demons that haunt the place, does not,
apparently, seem to have entirely died out even
at the period when Mr Eustace paid his visit
to the monastery. One of the " good fathers,"
in conversation with him, told him that " during
the winter, which commences here in October
and lasts till May, they -were buried in snow
or enveloped in clouds, and besieged by bears
and wolves prowling round the walls and in
the forests. ' Orsi, lupi, e tutte le peste,' was his
emphatic expression." I am afraid the good
father drew largely on his imagination, or on
the credulity of his listener, in these statements.
I have just been in Vallombrosa in late Octo
ber, and never was there a scene more enchant
ing and genial. The leaves were thick on the
trees, and the country smiling with flowers.
As for the orsi, lupi, e tutte le peste, I saw none,
I heard of none, — unless the good father con
sidered women as coming under the last classi-

TREASURES OF THE MONASTERY. 57
fication, and the Government guards under the
first, and mistook the foxes for wolves.
Before the monastery was despoiled it pos
sessed a remarkably interesting library, contain
ing a considerable number of rare and valuable
ancient manuscripts, and rich in ecclesiastical
works. These, however, were piled pell-mell
together and carried away exposed in carts,
some here, some there. Many, of course, were
lost; but what remains of them are now de
posited among the national archives in Florence.
Their paintings, some of which were of rare
excellence ; their treasures of plate ; their elabo
rately embroidered vestments and altar-cloths;
their sculptured figures in silver or terra-cotta,
among which were some admirable bassi rilievi
by Luca della Eobbia, — were all taken, and the
greater part of them carried to Paris or sold.1
1 " The pictures, designs, and engravings " (says Fontani in
his 'Viaggio Istorico Pittorico dell' Italia,' p. 160, 1818),
'' were numberless, and even to cite them, and enumerate in-

58 VALLOMBROSA.
Their museum of mineralogy, which, for the
period and place, was considerable, was not only
scattered, but the specimens they had collected
were thrown away by the roadside or in the
woods as of no value, and even to the present
day they are occasionally unearthed. Their
pharmacy, which was celebrated, was also broken
up ; and a very considerable number of the
beautiful old majolica vases with which it was
furnished were found only last year in an
antiquary's shop, and sold for almost nothing.
In a word, the monastery was not only de
spoiled, but despoiled in the most reckless way :
of all its treasures, nothing, or almost nothing,
now remains.
On the return of the monks from their exile,
dividually one by one their merits, would be an extremely long
and tiresome task. The library was rich in works adapted to
sacred study, and in the learned languages, as well as in sub
jects relating to art and to modern philosophy. It contained
also rare editions, especially of the fifteenth century, and valu
able manuscripts, rich with beautiful ornamentation and
miniatures. "

THE MONKS OF THE RESTORATION. 59
the Grand Duke Leopold did what he could to
reinstate them in their possessions ; but much
was irrevocably lost. Of the land, as I have
said, a considerable portion has been sold ; and
dotted here and there over this property are
little fragments and corners of land owned by
private persons, generally peasants. Their landed
property, however, was still very extensive and
productive. Taxes then in Tuscany were very
light ; for the Government was inexpensively
conducted, the country was prosperous, the rev
enues large, the Grand Duke paternal in his
rule, the court simple, industry flourishing, and
the cost of living slight in comparison with what
it now is. Whatever political griefs the Tuscans
may have had to complain of, they were not
oppressed by taxes and Government impositions
as they now are. As the annual taxes on this
property were 29,000 scudi, it is plain that
the revenues it yielded must have been very
large. Reckoned at 6 per cent, they would

60 VALLOMBROSA.
have amounted to 400,000 scudi, which is more
than 2,000,000 francs.
How, then, was this revenue obtained ? In
the first place, from the forests, which yielded
an immense supply of timber, that in itself was
very valuable for building^being principally of
chestnut, beech, and firs. What was not fitted
for this purpose served as firewood. Again, the
fruit of the chestnuts, enormous in quantity,
brought in a very considerable sum. A great
saw-mill, run by water-power, was in constant
operation ; and this alone, it was calculated, paid
the Government tax. Besides this, herds of
cattle and flocks of sheep were pastured here,
and bred. One great farm, called the Mettata,
was devoted to dairy purposes, and housed a
hundred cows ; another, the Porcaria, was a
farm for pigs. Still others were sown with
grain ; and though a good deal of the land was
wild and unproductive, yet a large portion was
fairly well cultivated. To carry on all this a

ABOLITION OF THE MONASTERY. 61
great number of persons was required ; and all
the labouring population found their benefit
from it, as well as the towns and cities, which
were thus supplied with food, and fruit, and
timber. This state of things continued until Tuscany
renounced, by popular vote, its autonomy, and
annexed itself to Piedmont and the young king
dom of Italy. Then came the abolition of the
monastic houses, and the expropriation of all
their property ; and Vallombrosa, among the
rest, became the public domain. The monks
were driven away, and the property is now
administered by the Italian Government.
For one, on principle, I protest against this
violent assumption by the Government — this
expropriation, without fair remuneration, of mon
astic property. It is a clear violation of all
rights of property, or all so-called rights ad
mitted and established by the consent of all

62 VALLOMBROSA.
civilised nations, for ah origine the only right is
force, — " That they shall take who have the power,
And they shall keep who can."
If a Government can sequester and assume at
its will, without payment therefor, all property
belonging to religious bodies and communities,
why can it not, on the same principle, take
the property belonging to any other class
or corporation — to merchants, to artists, to
princes, to hospitals, to colleges ? Of course,
it is admitted by established laws that it may,
for the public necessity or benefit, take any
private property, but solely on one condition,
that it gives a fair remuneration for it ; and this
is precisely what it does not do in the case of
monastic bodies. If monastic institutions are
contrary to what are deemed the best interests
of the State, it may abolish them ; it may pro
hibit the establishment of such bodies for the
future ; it may possibly even break up those that

ABOLITION OF THE MONASTERY. 63
exist : granted, but only on the same conditions
which would apply to all other property held by
all other bodies. There cannot justly be one
law for monks and nuns as to property, and a
totally different one for all other persons. This
would be simply a tyrannical exercise of power,
contrary to all equity, contrary to all recognised
principles of law. In the case of religious cor
porations, tlieir lands and houses have been given,
granted, or purchased by them according to law ;
and it is impossible to see why they should be
made an exception to all other persons, why their
lands should be virtually wrested from them with
out adequate remuneration, and why they should
be turned out into the world on a scanty pit
tance, scarcely sufficient to enable them to live.
It is even worse in some respects for them than
for any other class ; for their vows, and habits
of life, and religious pledges, not only render
them unfit for other avocations, but disable them
from assuming them. I have no special admira-

64 VALLOMBROSA.
tion for or sympathy with monastic bodies. They
have undoubtedly done good work in the past,
and in their monasteries for centuries was kept
alive the fire of literature, which was elsewhere
almost entirely extinguished. Without them a
gross darkness would have covered the world ;
the precious works of ancient learning would
have been lost ; science would have suffered
total eclipse, and civilisation declined. If there
was a good deal of superstition mixed up with
their religious doctrines, if their lives were not
on the highest line of Christianity, their influ
ence was at least humanising. They afforded
refuge and succour to the poor ; they exercised
the duties of hospitality ; they preached and
practised charity to their neighbours, and held
up a higher standard of life. They showed at
times rare examples of piety and good works ;
and at all events, whatever were their short
comings, they were above the general level of
society. Their lands and houses were solemnly

ABOLITION OF THE MONASTERY. 65
and formally given to them by deed or bequest.
They were as absolute owners of them by law as
any other persons or bodies were of their houses
and lands-: and if it is now thought, on the
whole, that their good work has been accom
plished, and their influence is noxious, this may
be a good reason, even if it be a mistaken one,
for abolishing them as corporations, and re
stricting their powers and rights for the future ;
but it is not a good reason for depriving them
of their possessions without proper remunera
tion, and making them exceptions to the laws
applying to all other persons and property.
Liberty and law in a properly administered
country are universal in their operation. It is
not one thing for one class and another for
another class.
But Italy has thought differently, and has
abolished most of the monastic orders, and con
fiscated the greater portion of their property,
without that fair remuneration which would
E

66 VALLOMBROSA.
have been denied to no other class ; and in its
estimation, as Hosea Biglow says —
' " Libbaty's a kind of thing
That don't agree with niggers "
— or monks. Among other monasteries, Vallom
brosa has been confiscated ; and of the hundred
monks who have lived and administered this
large property, and studied and performed the
duties of hospitality and charity, only three now
remain — on sufferance — deprived of all rights of
ownership. The question is, on the whole (without regard
to the justice and equity of the change), What
advantage has been gained by the nation — the
people at large — or the people and peasants of
the neighbourhood ? In the matter of revenue,
the nation has certainly been the loser. As we
have already seen, under the administration of
the monks the taxes then paid to the Govern
ment, light as taxes were then, amounted to
29,000 scudi or francesconi — equivalent to about

RESULTS OF CONFISCATION. 67
125,000 francs in gold — all of which was de
rived from the profits of one great saw-mill. At
present the net income of the entire property
is about 45,000 lire or francs in paper, at a
discount of from 10 to 12 per cent, or about
60,000 in gross. The annual loss, then, is at
least from 65,000, taking the gross revenue, to
80,000, taking the net revenue, as we properly
should. What advantage has been derived by the people,
and the peasants and labouring classes of the
neighbourhood, the latter of whom depended on
it for their living ? Absolutely none, and worse
than none. The saw-mill exists ho longer : it
has been done away with. There is absolutely
no tillage or cultivation of the land, which lies
dead and unproductive, save in its growth of
forest-trees. The solid stone farmhouses are all
untenanted, and falling to ruin daily, save one or
two which are inhabited by the guards of the
forest. One of these (called the Mettata) is the

68 VALLOMBROSA.
remnant of what was formerly the centre of a
large dairy-farm, and gave stabling to some hun
dred cows. But no cows pasture there now on
the grassy slopes from wliich not even the hay
is mown ; and the greater part of the house was
torn down by order of the Government a couple
of years ago — for what reason it is difficult to
imagine, as it was strongly built of solid stone,,
and would have stood there even if left alone for*
a century. The farm of the Porcaria (or Por-
cheria, as it is now more fitly called), where
herds of pigs were kept, and yielded a large
profit, is abolished, and the building is unten
anted. Here and there are to be seen small"
plantations or nurseries of young trees ; and
this is all that is now cultivated on these miles
of magnificent country. No cattle are seen or
allowed ; no flocks of sheep ; no fields of grain ;
no cultivation of any kind, save a few small
plantations of infant trees. All the revenue is

FARM HOUSES. 69
given by nature, almost without the assistance
of man. One house alone, called the Lago, has
been reclaimed ; and this was the old hunting-
box of the Medici, which my friends have taken
on lease, and repaired and put into habitable
condition ; but even this the Government de
spoiled of its old castellated towers, which lent
a picturesque and medieval character to the
building. The Casetta, another old stone house,
with large farms connected with it, is also utterly
deserted and left to its fate. All that remains
of its former cultivation is a small patch of plan
tation in front. Standing there, what a magni-
'ficent prospect opens before the eye ! — over the
turbulent rolling waves of mountains, which lie
below for many a mile basking in the sunshine,
with little valleys scattered here and there, dot
ting the distant slopes, and Pontassieve clinging
to the river-banks ; and Florence, far beyond,
with its towers and domes ; and armies of firs

70 VALLOMBROSA.
and chestnuts and beeches crowding up the hill
sides ; and the blue smoke of charcoal-burners
winding up into the tender sky ; and the rugged
fields alive with wild flowers — ferns, gorse, and
broom. All these farms, and fields, and herds, and
forests once furnished work for the labourer and
the farmer and the peasant ; and their life was
thus rendered comparatively easy and happy.
Now there is nothing for them to do or to gain,
and they are very poor and miserable. All the
natural products of the woods and fields are
farmed out, after the usual custom of the Gov
ernment, at an annual rate. These are the
chestnuts which heap the ground in the autumn,
and the brushwood and dioris of the forest ; and
only what is left of gleaning, after the harvest,
is allowed to the poor, who even pay for this a
very small price. On these gleanings, for the
most part, they live. And every day in the
autumn you will meet them gathering the few

MUSHROOMS. - 71
chestnuts which remain on the ground, and
tying together fascines of small brushwood, and
broken sticks, with which to warm themselves
and cook their poor fare in winter. Once in a
while they get a little work and a few sous to
eke out their small store. During the summer
they get along fairly well. The climate is
kindly, and the woods supply them with berries,
especially with raspberries and wild strawberries,
which here grow in great abundance, and which
they gather and sell. In the autumn there are
thousands of mushrooms of every kind, which
they gather and carry to the villages and towns,
and there sell for almost nothing to dealers, to
be sent to the city. These mushrooms are de
licious, and some of them so large and succulent
that one of them makes a dish by itself. Be
sides the common kind known to us, there are
the large orange-hued ovole, the delicate foliated
alberetti, the lilac-grey porcini, and many another,
which we class among the foul funguses, avoid

72 VALLOMBROSA.
as poisonous, and call by the opprobrious name
of toad-stools.1 These poor people rarely taste of meat, — it is
too expensive. Their chief food is a sort of
heavy bread made of dry and ground chestnuts,
or a kind of coarse grain, with beans, roots, or
fruits which they find in the woods, the nuts of
the beech, and potatoes when they can afford to
buy them. Nor have they much even of this
fare. How they manage to live on it is to me
a mystery ; and a still greater mystery it seemed
1 All the slopes of the Apennines abound in mushrooms,
some of which are of very large size. Soldani, in his ' Guida
storica,' says that in the neighbourhood of Camaldoli there is
a certain kind of [fungus called Vesce di Lupo, globular in
shape, and white within and without, whieh attains the weight
of 24 Italian pounds ; and he adds, in confirmation of his
statement, the fact that a certain Padre Don Adelelmo, a Cam
aldolese monk, made him and his uncle a present of one of
these Vesci, which, when whole, weighed 21 lb., and that
he and his family ate it and found it excellent. This mush
room is probably the same as that described by Theophrastus
(Hist. Plant., lib. i. cap. 9) as the Cranium, on account of its
resemblance to the human skull. Marsili also describes a
mushroom which grows near Padua, along the Euganean Hills,
which sometimes weighs 25 lb.

STORY OF BEPPA. 73
when they showed me the small store of their
gleanings of chestnuts which they had laid up
for their winter supply. Still, with all their
privations, they look strong and healthy. The
children were rosy and vigorous, the maidens
some of them handsome, and all well-grown and
erect. So also the young men were fine-look
ing, stalwart fellows. But age soon tells upon
them ; they grow old early ; and when disease
strikes them, they have little powers of resist
ance. On all their faces, after they had passed
thirty, there was the pinched, sad look of patient
poverty, and a certain refinement, too, of expres
sion in their worn faces, as well as great gentle
ness of manner and speech — at least among those
whom I saw and to whom I spoke — that awak
ened sympathy and respect. None of them begged,
though it was plain that they were in need.
I was speaking of them one evening as we
were sitting round our dinner-table, when the

74 VALLOMBROSA.
Marquis Fornace said of some of the peasant
girls, — " All are remarkably handsome, or rather,
I should say, were, for I only knew the place
years ago. Beppa, for instance. Beppa was
a great beauty. Do you remember Beppa ? "
turning to our host.
" Beppa ? of course I do. She was born in
this very house where we are now living ; and
as I used frequently to shoot over this ground
years ago, when I was a bachelor, many a night
I have passed here when she was. growing up
into a woman. Yes, she was handsome."
" Handsome ? she was magnificent ! What
eyes ! dark and luminous, and clear as an
autumn night. Then what teeth ! the pearls
of Marchesini were nothing beside them. What
a smile ! What a figure, lithe as a willow, and
full of grace ! Ah, what a beauty ! "
" Poet ! " cried our host — " poet ! He ex
aggerates, as all poets do. Still, there is some
foundation in fact for what he says. Beppa

PICNIC— THUNDERSTORM. 75
had fine eyes and superb teeth, I admit, and
was a very pretty girl. Of course, she was
slender, but she was young ; and all the women
here are slender. Elvira, her sister-in-law, was
really a beauty, and had one of those Madonna
faces such as Raffaelle delighted to paint, such
as any painter might rejoice to have as a model
¦ — simple, sweet, refined, and peaceful."
" Ah ! I never saw her," said the Marquis ;
" but I daresay she was all you describe her to
be. But Beppa; Beppa was my beauty."
" What there was besides her eyes and teeth
that was charming in Beppa was a fine careless
ness and thoughtlessness of bearing, a certain
frank light-hearted way she had in all her
movements and speech — a sort of freedom, like
a wild natural thing that the world had not
tamed." " Do you remember," said the Marquis, " that
little expedition we made together years ago
(how the years go ! it must be at least twelve

76 VALLOMBROSA.
— more, perhaps; and it seems scarcely six
months !) — in May, I think, or it might have
been later in the year ? Janet was with us,
and the M.'s, and we set out from Vallombrosa
to walk to Poder Nuovo and picnic in the
woods ; and as we were coming up the rough
road, a little way from the Lago, suddenly
' Poum, poum ' above us roared the thunder like
a broadside of a hundred guns, and the heavens
seemed to split open, and down came the rain
in a deluge. When it rains in this country, it
rains — it does not make believe. Fortunately
we all of us, save you, had umbrellas and water
proofs, and so we were protected ; but you, after
the foolish way you always had, scorned such
impedimenta — and there you were, with nothing
to shield you, saying you did not care for
such trifles. Well, in a few minutes you were
drenched to the skin, and dripping as a drowned
rat, and we were all of us glad to find a refuge
here at the Lago. There and then it was that

A CHANGE OF DRESS. 77
I first saw Beppa, standing in the doorway, and
inviting us to come in for shelter. Glad enough
we were to accept her smiling invitation, and in
we went. She piled up in the vast fireplace
a heap of dry fascines and broken boughs, and
in a few minutes broad quivering sheets of flame
flashed and roared up the chimney, and we all
gathered about it to dry ourselves. But you
were too thoroughly drenched to be dried in
this way, and cried out to Beppa, who was
bustling about, and laughing with us, and find
ing us chairs and benches, and helping the
ladies — 'Beppa, I say, I must take off these
clothes to be dried. Is there nothing you can
give me to put on while they are drying — no old
coat or cloak of the babbo's ? — no matter what.'
" ' Nothing, signor, nothing — unless you will
put on one of my dresses,' laughed Beppa. ' If
that will do, it is quite at your service ; but I
am afraid that will not do.'
" ' And why not ? ' you cried. ' It will do

78 ' VALLOMBROSA.
capitally, if you will lend it to me. Presto !
presto ! let me have it ! '
" ' Davvero,' said Beppa, ' really you are jok
ing.' " ' Not a bit of it,' you cried ; ' not a bit of
it ! Let me have it. Via ! '
" Beppa entered into the joke at once, and
off you and she went ; and then she returned,
shrugging her shoulders and laughing. After a
short time, in you came. Madonna mm, what
a figure you were, dressed in one of her gowns !
I never shall forget it. We welcomed you with
shouts, and laughed till we could laugh no
longer for very pain ; and Beppa clapped her
hands, and bent herself down to the ground
with laughing, and spread herself against the
wall, utterly overcome with the joke. What a
mad company we were ! Per Baceo ! these were
glorious days ! Then we put some chestnuts
in the ashes to roast, and talked and chattered
while the storm passed by. What a picture it

BEPPA '5 LOVER. 79
was — -worthy the brush of Rembrandt in its
effects ! The fire darting its quivering tongues
up the chimney, redly illuminating our faces
and figures, and gleaming on the black rafters
overhead ; the shadows on the old walls, waver
ing about as we moved ; the faint light of the
day, peering through the small iron - barred
windows ; and then the peals of thunder, echo
ing along the hills as the storm wore away !
It was a scene not to forget. That was my
first acquaintance with Beppa. Where is she
now ? What has become of her ? "
" Ah ! " said our hostess, " I am afraid the
after-acts of the play do not quite correspond to
the first bright scenes. Poor Beppa ! all that
gay spirit has been quenched out of her life.
She laughs very little, I am afraid, now."
" I am sorry to hear it," said the Marquis.
" Pray tell me what has happened to her."
" She had her love-story — and a pretty one
enough it was — and all seemed to go with her

So VALLOMBROSA.
' merry as a marriage - bell.' Her lover and
husband was a strong handsome fellow, with
no means except his stout arms ; and with these
he managed to support her — not well, of course,
but sufficiently — for their wants were small,
and they were fairly happy and contented. But,
somehow or other, he did not get on well with
the guards of the forest ; and there was bad
blood between them. So they tracked and
watched him to catch him in some violation of
the forest-laws, so as to put the hand of the law
on him. Unfortunately, whether by mistake or
not I cannot say, he took away some brushwood
and dead branches of no sort of value, but
which were within prohibited limits. He did
not, however, take them for himself — he brought
them to us, supposing that they were thrown
away and useless ; and this proves that he had
no intention at least of stealing. But here was
a chance for his enemies ; and he was at once ¦
arrested and thrown into prison on an accusa-

POOR BEPPA. 81
tion of theft. My husband, on being informed of
it, — what did you do ? You know better than I."
" I went down to Figline, where the poor
fellow was imprisoned, and did all that I could
to free him from the imputation — declaring
that I had known him and employed him even
in matters of trust, and had found him scrupu
lously honest as far as I knew, and urged that
the very fact of his not having taken the wood
for himself was a clear proof that he did not
intend to steal. I was fortunate enough to
prevail, and he was set free."
" And not an hour too soon," said our hostess.
" Poor Beppa, who was then close on her con
finement, had wept her heart away during the
month that he was in prison. She was alone
with scarcely any means of subsistence. Her
husband could earn nothing for her, and was
besides under accusation of a crime which would
probably be fatal to his and her future. She
had four children to look after and support.
F

82 VALLOMBROSA.
What could he or she do, even if he were
liberated ? It was a terrible blow. Two days
after his return she gave birth to her fifth
child." " And now how is it with them ? " said I.
" You shall see them to-morrow. Of course,
since this affair all is dark with them. He can
find no occupation here, and they all have to
suffer." So we went to see her in her wretched house.
Suffering and privation and toil had made her
old before her time. Remains of beauty cer
tainly were there. The eyes and the teeth still
were beautiful. But the face was haggard and
thin, and very sad, and the joyousness and
spring of life and youth utterly gone. Still
the old sweet smile gleamed for moments over
the face, and then faded into sadness again.
One of her children was ill and in bed ; the
others, strong, nut-brown, with large lustrous
eyes, stood beside her, shy, silent, half clothed,

A TE!— GRAZIE. 83
but with no shadow of care upon their faces.
We talked a little with her ; and our hostess
told her to come up to the house the next day,
and she would give her something to keep her
children warm for the winter. I gave them a
few pennies meanwhile, and then we said good
bye. She thanked us, looked at us with a
strange pathetic look, and then burst into tears.
The next day she came to us, with a girl,
of about six years of age ; and the two rosy,
sunny-haired, blue-eyed children of my hostess,
with their little arms full of thick stuffs for
winter clothing, stood beside their mother, and
each saying, "A te" thrust them into the hands
of the peasant girl, and then stood still and
stared at her. She, shy and not knowing what
to do, took them almost mechanically ; but when
her downcast eyes fell upon them, a flash of
joyous light went over her face, but she said
nothing. " Say Grazie^' said the mother, —
" grazie, signora ; grazie, signorine." " Grazie,

84 VALLOMBROSA.
signora," repeated the child, as if she were say
ing a lesson. "Hold up your head," said Beppa;
" don't look down so and stick out your stomach,
but look up." The little one lifted up her head
a moment, and dropped it again. What she
said when she got away and found her tongue,
one can easily imagine ; but there she was too
shy to speak. It was a pretty picture, and a
characteristic scene.
The next day another little one came — by
request — and alone, to have a similar gift.
This little maid, with eyes black as sloes, and
thick tangled hair, of about seven, was as a little
mother to the four younger children, and took
care of them with a patience, intelligence, and
sense of responsibility which was remarkable.
It is only among the poor that such precocity is
found ; but here in Italy, duties and responsi
bilities and family cares are thrown upon young
children at an age when among richer classes
they would be thought too young to be left

GOVERNMENT LABOUR AND WAGES. 85
alone. Here, however, they not only have to
take care of themselves, but to look after their
younger brothers and sisters — and this little
maid was as serious and trustworthy almost as
a grown woman. She gathered the chestnuts
and brushwood ; knew all the mushrooms that
were edible, and where the strawberries and
raspberries grew, and what she could take and
what she must avoid ; and kept all the little
ones in order and out of danger, and carried
them when they were tired, and soothed them
when they cried, and assisted her mother in
household affairs, and was, in a word, a little
woman. The Government is now building a road from
Vallombrosa to unite it with the highroad lead
ing from Pontassieve, and this during the sum
mer has afforded work for the people in the
vicinity. But suddenly, by order from head
quarters, a stop was put to all this work a month

86 VALLOMBROSA.
ago, and all the labourers were thrown out of
employ, and the little wages they hoped to gain
thereby to keep them comfortably through the
winter are cut off, so that there is rather a
dreary prospect before them. The wages paid
here for a day's labour are only 1 franc, 20
centimes ; but this satisfies them if it only con
tinues, so that they can count upon it. But
when they are cut off from this, their chances
are poor enough. As this is the only employ
ment given to them by Government for years
(except in the case of the six forest-guards, who
have a monthly pay), this sudden stoppage of
work is disastrous to these poor people, who
have few other means of earning a livelihood.
The Tuscan peasants, both men and women,
are almost invariably dry, thin, and spare in
their build — seldom becoming fat, as is the case
with the Romans and Neapolitans, even among
the peasantry — and not having the appearance
of great vigour. But in fact they are capable of

TUSCAN PEASANTRY. 87
much endurance ; and though, like all Italians,
rather indolent by temperament, and needing
some spur to action, they are not only active
and strong, but have great powers of resistance
in their work. " Strong ! I think so," said our
host. " I will give you an example. Last
year I bought of the Government five thousand
pounds of charcoal, made by the charcoal-burners
in the woods of Vallombrosa, about three miles
from my house. Those I hired three men and
two women to bring to me — over a rude and
difficult path. Within six hours, during one of
which they rested to take their mid-day meal
and siesta, every stick of it was deposited in my
cellar — all carried by them on their heads. The
day was extremely hot — and you should have
seen them as they came in, erect as masts
and bearing their monstrous burdens aloft, and
swinging along with a firm and even step down
the rough slopes. One of these women in
especial roused my admiration. She was a per-

88 VALLOMBROSA.
feet gipsy in appearance, with ruled brows, black
eyes, a wealth of wild tangled waving hair that
strayed loosely over her shoulders, and a com
plexion dark enough in itself, but blackened to
coal with the charcoal-dust which sifted over
her ; her arms and legs were bare ; her eyes like
fire ; down her cheeks rolled great broad streams
of sooty perspiration; and through her parted
lips her white teeth almost shone as she came
up panting and smiling. She was a striking
creature in every way. With twenty baths of
hot water and a clean fresh dress, instead of the
worn, flimsy, and shabby rags which scarcely
covered her, she would have made an impression
anywhere, with her stately figure and her wild
handsome face ; but for me, I preferred her as
she was, and I only wished I were an artist to
paint her, with her charcoal burden, her clinging
rags, her grimed face and arms, her bare feet,
her streaming hair — all, in a word, just as she
was."

VILLAGE FARE. 89
The villagers of Raggioli and Tosi, and others
in the vicinity, live entirely on what they
gather in the woods during the summer and
autumn. Before daybreak — by three in the
midsummer mornings — they are up and off,
with their baskets poised on their heads, their
blue and purple dresses, a red or party-coloured
handkerchief drawn across their brows and
knotted behind, and another folded Vandyke-
wise over their shoulders. All day long they
wander, and pluck the blackberries, strawberries,
raspberries, mushrooms, or whatever the woods
afford according to the season, and carry home
at night their store, to he bought by dealers
for the cities and large towns. These natural
fruits of the soil the Government allows them
to gather (except the chestnuts) free of tax ;
and as they are very abundant, and largely in
demand, they thus gain a little money to sup
port themselves.

90 VALLOMBROSA.
A short distance above the monastery rises
a steeply scarped rock, at one side of which
pours down, roaring and foaming, the torrent
of Vicano ; and on the summit of this, 1027
metres above' the sea and 70 metres above the
monastery, stands the so-called Oratorio of the
Paradisino. This was originally founded by
Padre Biagio Milanese, General of the Order of
the Benedictines, as a place of refuge, retire
ment, and discipline, to which those monks who
had offended against the rules of the monastery,
or who were under penance, self-inflicted or
imposed upon them, retired from time to time,
and there led a life more rigorous and discip
linary than the other monks. The prospect
from here is wider and even more magnificent
than that of the monastery below, overlooking
the vast valleys and slopes from the chain of
Etruscan mountains which rises against the
horizon on the north, to the hills of Leghorn
that skirt the Mediterranean. A steep and

THE FORESTERIA. 91
rugged climb carries us to the summit, where
the celle and church and tower stand. The
church formerly contained some valuable pic
tures, among which may be mentioned one of
Andrea del Sarto's finest works. But it is now
despoiled of all its pictures and wood-carving,
and is used as a magazine, barn, or hay-loft.
The old mill, once driven by the Vicano, is still
standing ; but it is no longer used, as it was by
the monks, to saw trees or to grind corn ; nor
are the ghiacciaie, or ice-basins, turned to any
purpose. Near the monastery is another low building
called the Foresteria, which was built to receive
women who came to visit the monastery. Orig
inally, by the rules of the Vallombrosa order,
no woman was allowed to enter the forest, or
to pass within some large crosses erected at a
distance of about a quarter of a mile. This
rule was enforced for some eight centuries, but
afterwards was relaxed ; and the Foresteria was

92 VALLOMBROSA.
built to afford lodging for female visitors. It
is now used as an inn, and is crowded with
visitors during the summer, who come to breathe
the refreshing air, and to enjoy the prospect
and the delightful walks which extend in every
direction. A four-miles walk down through the woods
carries us to Pater no, which also formerly be
longed to the monks and was attached to the
monastery. Here originally stood a castle of
the Counts Guidi, and was granted by them,
with all the circumjacent land, at a very early
period to San Giovanni and his brotherhood.
Here came Otho IIL, weary of life and torment
ed with remorse for the cruel murder of Cres
centius, to expiate his offence by penance ; and
here, according to some of the old chroniclers, he
met his death, poisoned by Stephania, the widow
of Crescentius, whom he had afterwards made
his mistress. The castle was at a later jieriod

PA TERNO. 93
turned into a monastery, and suffered many
changes to adapt it to their use. At present
it is a large, square, strong -built conventual
edifice of stone, commanding a beautiful view,
and surrounded by extensive grounds, and
farms, and meadows. These were once admir
ably cultivated by the monks, and were covered
with fields, vineyards, and olive-orchards, which
yielded a large revenue, and supplied them
abundantly with oil, wine, and grain. A good
deal of oil (according to Vallisnieri) was also
extracted from the beech - nuts ; and Dr Giov.
Targioni Tozzette has written three papers on
this subject, urging that this oil is not only
good for burning, but has very valuable medi
cinal properties. Besides this, the beech-nuts
were largely used by the monks for food for
their animals, and especially for their pigs, of
which they had a large number.

94 VALLOMBROSA.
Among the memories connected with this
place is that of Gerbert, afterwards Sylvester
IL, the companion and friend of the first two
Othos, and the preceptor of the young and bril
liant Otho III., who here came to such an un
timely end. The letters of Otho to Gerbert
breathe the warmest affection and respect ; and
well was he deserving of it, both for the excel
lence of his character and his' wonderful attain
ments. In any age he would have been a
remarkable man, but in the darkness of this
century he shines like a great light against the
sombre background of its superstition and
ignorance. Such was his superiority in point
of learning to those by whom he was sur
rounded, that he was popularly supposed to
have obtained his great knowledge at the ex
pense of his soul, and to have been in league
with the Evil One. He seems to have been an
almost universal genius — distinguishing himself
as a poet, a musician, a mathematician, a phy-

SYLVESTER II. 95
sician, an inventor in mechanics, and an author
in various branches of science and literature,
metaphysics, grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, the
ology, geometry, astronomy, arithmetic, and al
gebra ; and besides all this, to have fulfilled
with dignity and honour his functions as Pope,
and to have been a peacemaker between the
various and agitating factions of the day.
Among his inventions were a hydraulic organ,
in which the amount of air necessary to produce
the sound was effected by steam ; and a famous
celestial sphere and solar clock. He is also
supposed by some writers to have invented the
first clock which went with wheels, and the
method of escapement. This is, however, doubt
ful ; and the better opinion seems to be that we
owe this to the Archdeacon Pacifico in the ninth
century. However this may be, he improved
certainly upon it, and has the reputation of
being the first who made a clock to strike the
hours. He first introduced into Europe the use

96 VALLOMBROSA.
of the Arabic numerals, and the decimal system.
His treatise on geometry is clear and precise ; he
was a good Greek scholar, and a master of the
Latin language, in which he wrote various poems ;
he was also an admirable musician, and a com
poser, among other things, of cantici spirituali,
some of wliich are still preserved among the
monuments of the Liturgy for their beauty.
Here at Paterno he often came — in company
with Otho his pupil, and alone — and here he
presided over a famous synod to compose the
differences between Welligiso di Magonza and
Bernward of Hildesheim as to their jurisdiction
over the convent of nuns at Hildesheim. Among
the other famous figures might then be seen here
the noble Abbess Gerberga, sister of Otho IL,
then old and inform, who warmly espoused the
cause of Bernward ; and her rival and niece
Sophia, the eldest sister of Otho IIL, proud and
ambitious, and daily acquiring influence, who
took vehemently the part of Welligiso. Earnest

STEPHANIA. 97
almost to fierceness were the passionate debates
that there took place, and it needed all the in
fluence of Gerbert to prevent an open outbreak :
even as it was, the synod was forced to adjourn
without composing the quarrel.
But among the memories which, in passing,
we may recall in this old and honoured monas
tery, we must not omit the wonderful figure of
Stephania, the widow of Crescentius, magnificent
in her beauty, and terrible in her revenge, who
flashes across the scene, captivates the heart of
Otho, slays him in her fury at the defeat of her
ambition, and vanishes out of history from that
moment. According to some writers, especially
of Henrion, her revenge was not satiated even
by the death of Otho, but struck also at Gerbert
himself, whom, at least, she was suspected of
having poisoned. In this, however, there seems
to be little ground of belief.1
1 Otho is said by the greater part of the chroniclers of his
time to have met his death in Paterno — " oppidum quod nun-
cupatur Paternum non longe a civitate quae dicitur Castellana,"
G

98 VALLOMBROSA.
As Paterno was much lower, and the tem
perature far milder than that of Vallombrosa,
the monks were in the habit of passing the
colder winter months here, and returning on
the approach of spring to Vallombrosa. This
ancient custom is still kept up by the profes
sors, and students, and others attached to the
Forestal School, by which the monastery is
now occupied.
All the forests of Vallombrosa, as well as the
farms and vineyards both there and at Paterno,
were most admirably planted and cultivated by
the monks. In the opinion of M. Adolfo de
B^renger — and no one is more capable of giving
a competent judgment on this subject, to which
says Leo Ostiensis. So also Cosimo della Rena ; but he thinks
Paterno is situated about a day's journey from Todi, in the
Contado di Perugia. There is no place of that name at present
near Perugia, Todi, or Civita Castellana ; and for many reasons
it seems most probable that it was here at this Paterno, near
Tosi and Pelago, that he performed his penances, and finally
was poisoned.

THE MONKS AS AGRICULTURISTS. 99
he has given a careful study — their forests were
" modelle de coltura forestale, perche tutti pian-
tati ad arte per filari e d'una produttivita e ren-
dita giunta al di la d'ogni credere, quantunque
radicate sopra falde ertissime ed in un suolo
dirupatissimo e Sassoso." Soldani also, in his
' Guida storica per il viaggio alia Valleombrosa,'
comparing the condition of the priests in other
parts of Italy with those of Vallombrosa, points
to the latter as examples of admirable cultiva
tion, worthy to be followed ; and after urging
upon the Government the necessity of preserv
ing the foreslis of Italy from the ruin and de
struction to which they were elsewhere exposed,
says, — " I shall never rest content until I see
the preservation of the forests taken in hand by
the supreme power of the Government. Among
the means which, in my opinion, are most sure
to preserve the forests on the high mountains,
are those certainly which I know by experience
to have been used in the province of Casentino

ioo VALLOMBROSA.
by the three monasteries of Vallombrosa, Al-
vernia, and Camaldoli."
As cultivators of the land, monastic bodies
especially distinguished themselves, and during
the middle ages they did as good service to agri
culture as to literature and science. " We owe,"
says Hallam ('Middle Ages,' vol. iii. p. 361),
" the agricultural restoration of great part of
Europe to the monks. They chose, for the sake
of retirement, secluded regions, which they cul
tivated with the labour of their hands. Many
of the grants to monasteries, which strike us as
enormous, were of districts absolutely wasted,
which would probably have been reclaimed by
no other means." Both Hallam and Guizot
agree that it was the glory of St Benedict's
reform that he substituted bodily labour for
the supine indolence of oriental asceticism.
" The Benedictines," says Guizot, " have been
the great clearers of land in Europe ; " " as
missionaries and labourers they accomplished

THE COLLEGIO FORESTALE. 101
their double service through peril and fatigue."
Nor were the Benedictines at Vallombrosa
exceptions to the rule. It is to them we
owe the plantation and cultivation, of all these
magnificent forests, and the admirable farming
of all this tract of country.
The Government has now possessed itself of
these forests ; and the monastery itself has been
turned into a " Collegio Forestale," professedly
for the education of young men in matters re
lating to agriculture. There are thirteen pro
fessors, and only twelve scholars, in this large
building. It is presided over by a director,
an excellent and intelligent man, who has his
suite of apartments, and lives here during the
warm seasons. In the winter neither he nor
the professors nor scholars remain ; and the
building is occupied by three priests, also excel
lent men, and a few subsidiaries, whose amuse
ment it seems to be to taunt the priests with

102 VALLOMBROSA.
the loss of the monastery, and the change that
liberty and unity have brought to them. Padre
Furio showed us over all the building with
great kindness ; and, when I ventured to ex
press my surprise at certain things, thrust out
his lips and put his forefinger across them,
to intimate that I might by any criticism
compromise him as well as myself. So I kept
silence. Upon the establishment of the Forestal School
at Vallombrosa, Signor de B^renger was appointed
director — and to no fitter hands could this office
have been intrusted. During his short rule his
administration of the woods was admirable.
But he was not supported by the Government,
and the administration has now passed into
other hands. This is greatly to be regretted.
Where the fault is I cannot say, but the fact is
clear that little interest is shown in the matter ;
and the cultivation and maintenance of the
forests, as well as the establishment of proper

THE CHURCH. 103
nurseries or replantation, is not what it should
be, and not as it was in the time of the monks.1
As far as is apparent, no advantage has been
derived to any one by the violent sequestration
and assumption of this property by the Govern
ment. The church is not handsome architecturally,
and there are few objects of interest now remain
ing. From a priestly point of view, the most
interesting is an elaborately carved and chiselled
reliquary in silver, adorned with gems, and
containing the relics of San Giovanni Gual
berto. In it is a brown bone, of about a foot
in length, which is looked upon with reverence,
and kept with great care. I do not know
whether it works miracles, and I did not care
to ask.
1 M. de Berenger has written an admirable and practical
little book, entitled ' Guida per II coltivatore dei Vivai Bos-
chivi, ' to which the reader who is interested in the question is
referred.

104 VALLOMBROSA.
Among the pictures which were taken from
the church, Fontani specially mentions the
celebrated picture by Pietro Perugino, now in
the academy at Florence, which formerly stood
in the choir. There still remains an Assump
tion by Franceschini, and a much injured Sab-
batelli in the sacristy. The cupola is painted
by Fabbrini.
There is a grand old kitchen which interested
me more, and in which there were savoury
odours, showing that whatever else is lost, the
art of cooking -is not. Here in the centre is a
large circular sort of hypaethral temple— I know
not what else to call it — with stone pillars and
roof, from the centre of which hangs a turnspit,
carried by water-power, on which an ox might
be roasted whole, — a temple once dedicated to
the Genius of Hospitality and Charity, where
culinary service is still performed, though on a
much smaller scale, and where, though the
hierophants are not monks or priests, the odours

CHANGES.

105

of sacrifice still rise gratefully. There is also a
fine old refectory (a refectory no longer), where
the brothers used to take their meals, with its
reading - desk or pulpit midway on the wall
above. Here, with a shudder, said Padre Furio,
a ball was given a short time ago.
But change has come over almost everything.
The cells of the monks are now the rooms for
the students and professors. The chapel is the
fencing-school. The pictures of saints on the
walls have given place to crossed swords and foils.
It is the epoch of equal rights (except for monks
and nuns) and of union (God save the mark !
with all the old jealousies and rivalries as alive
as ever, and an octroi at the gate of every city);
of constitutional government (with almost unen
durable taxation) ; of popular representation (the
representatives agreeing in nothing but the self
ish advantage of each member) ; of liberty (with
party strife and struggle for power, and industry
vainly struggling under the weight of imposts).

106 VALLOMBROSA.
So let us shout " Viva la Liberia e I' Unita ! "
while the people only shrug their shoulders and
cry "Pazienza! " as burden after burden is laid on
them. Words are great powers. One knows a
people by its watch- words. I am tired of hear
ing in Italy that cry of slaves, " Pazienza ! "
I am waiting to hear that cry of freemen —
" Coraggio — avanti ! "
But a truce to politics. Whatever change
has taken place here at Vallombrosa, nature is
still the same. There is the vast panorama of
hills and valleys just as it was when Milton
gazed upon it — ay, just as it was when San
Giovanni Gualberto toiled with weary steps up
those wooded slopes. The same torrent and
fountain that cooled his parched lips may now
cool ours ; the same deep shadows lurk under
the sombre firs ; autumn still strews the sward
and heaps the brooks with the same wealth of
golden leaves torn from the chestnuts ; the same

CONCLUSION. 107
flowers smile up to us from the grass ; the same
tender blue sky bends over us like a benediction ;
and, in despite all changes and in defiance of all
politics, we still can have our hour of peace and
meditation and delight — " the world forgetting,
by the world forgot" — along the lovely slopes
of Vallombrosa.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.

am 0'

TIKI B' I

mrrvm?

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

08837 1548