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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:24 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:24 -0700 |
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III. by John +Addington Symonds.</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; font-weight: normal; + + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + td.cell_lt {vertical-align: top; width: 70%; text-align: left;} + td.cell_mid {vertical-align: top; width: 30%; text-align: left;} + td.cell_rg {vertical-align: top; width: 20%; text-align: right;} + + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquotwide{margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 0%; font-size: .95em; } + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; 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font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + ul.TOC { /* styling the Table of Contents */ + list-style-type: none; /* a list with no symbol */ + position: relative; /* makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 10%; /* pulls the page#s in a skosh */ + } + ul.TOCSub { /* sub-entries in the TOC */ + list-style-type: none; + position: relative; /* makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + margin-right: 15%; margin-left: 5%;/* pulls these page#s in even more*/ + } + span.tocright { /* use absolute positioning to move page# right */ + position: absolute; right: 0; + } + ul.LOI { /* styling the List of Illustrations */ + list-style-type: none; + position: relative; /* makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + margin-right: 5%; /* pulls the page#s in a skosh */ + } + + ul {list-style-type: none;} + ul.IX { /* styling the IndeX */ + list-style-type: none; + font-size: 90%; + } + ul.IX li { /* list items in an index list: compressed */ + margin-top: 0; + } + + + div.poem { + text-align:left; + margin-left:5%; + width:90%; font-size: .95em; + } + .poem h4 { text-align:left; margin-left: 5em; + font-weight: bold; + text-decoration: none; + } + .poem .stanza { + margin-top: 1em; + } + .stanza div + { + line-height: 1.2em; + margin-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; + } + .poem .i0 {display:block; margin-left: 0em;} + .poem .i1 {display:block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem .i2 {display:block; margin-left: 2.5em;} + .poem .i3 {display:block; margin-left: 3em;} + + .poem .i4 {display:block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem .i5 {display:block; margin-left: 4.5em;} + .poem .i6 {display:block; margin-left: 5em;} + + .poem .i7 {display:block; margin-left: 6em;} + .poem .i8 {display:block; margin-left: 6.5em;} + .poem .i9 {display:block; margin-left: 9em;} + .poem .i10 {display:block; margin-left: 10.5em;} + .poem .i11 {display:block; margin-left: 12em;} + .poem .i12 {display:block; margin-left: 13.5em;} + .poem p.cite { margin-left: 16em; } + .stanza div.quote { text-indent: -2.4em; } + + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + ins.corr { + text-decoration:none; + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; + } + /* XML end ]]>*/ + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img width="100%" src="images/ildefonso.jpg" alt= +"ildefonso" /></div> + +<h1>SKETCHES AND STUDIES</h1> + +<h1>IN ITALY AND GREECE</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>BY JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS</h3> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF "RENAISSANCE IN ITALY," "STUDIES OF THE GREEK POETS," +ETC.</h5> + +<h4>THIRD SERIES</h4> + +<h4>WITH A FRONTISPIECE</h4> + +<h4>LONDON</h4> + +<h4>JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.</h4> + +<h4>1910</h4> + +<table summary="Edition" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" border="0" +style="width: 80%;"> +<tbody> +<tr> +<td class="cell_lt"> +<div class="smcap">First Edition (Smith, Elder & Co.)</div> +</td> +<td class="cell_mid"><i>December</i> 1898</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="cell_lt"><i>Reprinted</i></td> +<td class="cell_mid"><i>December</i> 1907</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="cell_lt"><i>Reprinted</i></td> +<td class="cell_mid"><i>October</i> 1910</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="cell_lt"> +<div class="smcap">Taken Over by John Murray</div> +</td> +<td class="cell_mid"><i>January</i> 1917</td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"><i>Printed in Great Britain by</i></div> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">Spottiswoode, Ballantyne & Co. Ltd.</div> +</div> + +<div class="center"><i>London, Colchester & Eton</i></div> + +<h4><a href="index.html">INDEX</a> <a href= +"i.html">Volume I.</a> <a href="ii.html">Volume +II.</a></h4> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><span class="tocright">PAGE</span></li> +</ul> + +<p> </p> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Folgore da San Gemignano<span class= +"tocright"><a href="#FOLGORE">1</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Thoughts in Italy about Christmas<span class= +"tocright"><a href="#CHRISTMAS">21</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Siena<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#SIENA">41</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Monte Oliveto<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#OLIVETO">66</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Montepulciano<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#MONTEPULCIANO">87</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Perugia<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#PERUGIA">111</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Orvieto<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#ORVIETO">137</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Lucretius<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#LUCRETIUS">155</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Antinous<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#ANTINOUS">184</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Spring Wanderings<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#WANDERINGS">184</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Amalfi, Pæstum, Capri<span class= +"tocright"><a href="#AMALFI">250</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Etna<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#ETNA">279</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Palermo<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#PALERMO">290</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Syracuse and Girgenti<span class="tocright"><a +href="#SYRACUSE">319</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<div class="smcap">Athens<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#ATHENS">339</a></span></div> +</li> +</ul> + +<p> </p> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li>INDEX<span class="tocright"><a href= +"#INDEX">365</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<p> </p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<table summary="Ildefonso Group" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" +border="0" style="width: 90%;"> +<tbody> +<tr> +<td class="cell_lt"> +<div class="smcap">The Ildefonso Group</div> +</td> +<td class="cell_rg"><a href= +"images/ildefonso.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg001" id= +"pg001">1</a></span></p> + +<h2>SKETCHES AND STUDIES</h2> + +<h5>IN</h5> + +<h2>ITALY AND GREECE</h2> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="FOLGORE" id="FOLGORE" /><i>FOLGORE DA SAN +GEMIGNANO</i></h3> + +<p>Students of Mr. Dante Gabriel Rossetti's translations from the +early Italian poets (<i>Dante and his Circle</i>. Ellis & +White, 1874) will not fail to have noticed the striking figure made +among those jejune imitators of Provençal mannerism by two +rhymesters, Cecco Angiolieri and Folgore da San Gemignano. Both +belong to the school of Siena, and both detach themselves from the +metaphysical fashion of their epoch by clearness of intention and +directness of style. The sonnets of both are remarkable for what in +the critical jargon of to-day might be termed realism. Cecco is +even savage and brutal. He anticipates Villon from afar, and is +happily described by Mr. Rossetti as the prodigal, or 'scamp' of +the Dantesque circle. The case is different with Folgore. There is +no poet who breathes a fresher air of gentleness. He writes in +images, dealing but little with ideas. Every line presents a +picture, and each picture has the charm of a miniature fancifully +drawn and brightly coloured on a missal-margin. Cecco and Folgore +alike have abandoned the <a name="pg002" id="pg002"></a><span +class="pagenum">2</span> mediæval mysticism which sounds +unreal on almost all Italian lips but Dante's. True Italians, they +are content to live for life's sake, and to take the world as it +presents itself to natural senses. But Cecco is perverse and +impious. His love has nothing delicate; his hatred is a morbid +passion. At his worst or best (for his best writing is his worst +feeling) we find him all but rabid. If Caligula, for instance, had +written poetry, he might have piqued himself upon the following +sonnet; only we must do Cecco the justice of remembering that his +rage is more than half ironical and humorous:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">An I were fire, I would burn up the world;</div> + +<div class="i5">An I were wind, with tempest I'd it break;</div> + +<div class="i5">An I were sea, I'd drown it in a lake;</div> + +<div class="i5">An I were God, to hell I'd have it hurled;</div> + +<div class="i2">An I were Pope, I'd see disaster whirled</div> + +<div class="i5">O'er Christendom, deep joy thereof to take;</div> + +<div class="i5">An I were Emperor, I'd quickly make</div> + +<div class="i5">All heads of all folk from their necks be +twirled;</div> + +<div class="i2">An I were death, I'd to my father go;</div> + +<div class="i5">An I were life, forthwith from him I'd fly;</div> + +<div class="i5">And with my mother I'd deal even so;</div> + +<div class="i2">An I were Cecco, as I am but I,</div> + +<div class="i5">Young girls and pretty for myself I'd hold,</div> + +<div class="i5">But let my neighbours take the plain and old.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Of all this there is no trace in Folgore. The worst a moralist +could say of him is that he sought out for himself a life of pure +enjoyment. The famous Sonnets on the Months give particular +directions for pastime in a round of pleasure suited to each +season. The Sonnets on the Days are conceived in a like hedonistic +spirit. But these series are specially addressed to members of the +Glad Brigades and Spending Companies, which were common in the +great mercantile cities of mediæval Italy. Their tone is +doubtless due to the occasion of their composition, as compliments +to Messer Nicholò di Nisi and Messer Guerra Cavicciuoli.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg003" id="pg003">3</a></span> +The mention of these names reminds me that a word need be said +about the date of Folgore. Mr. Rossetti does not dispute the +commonly assigned date of 1260, and takes for granted that the +Messer Nicolò of the Sonnets on the Months was the Sienese +gentleman referred to by Dante in a certain passage of the +'Inferno':<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">And to the Poet said I: 'Now was ever</div> + +<div class="i5">So vain a people as the Sienese?</div> + +<div class="i5">Not for a certainty the French by far.'</div> + +<div class="i2">Whereat the other leper, who had heard me,</div> + +<div class="i5">Replied unto my speech: 'Taking out Stricca,</div> + +<div class="i5">Who knew the art of moderate expenses,</div> + +<div class="i2">And Nicolò, who the luxurious use</div> + +<div class="i5">Of cloves discovered earliest of all</div> + +<div class="i5">Within that garden where such seed takes +root.</div> + +<div class="i2">And taking out the band, among whom +squandered</div> + +<div class="i5">Caccia d' Ascian his vineyards and vast +woods,</div> + +<div class="i5">And where his wit the Abbagliato proffered.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Now Folgore refers in his political sonnets to events of the +years 1314 and 1315; and the correct reading of a line in his last +sonnet on the Months gives the name of Nicholò di Nisi to +the leader of Folgore's 'blithe and lordly Fellowship.' The first +of these facts leads us to the conclusion that Folgore flourished +in the first quarter of the fourteenth, instead of in the third +quarter of the thirteenth century. The second prevents our +identifying Nicholò di Nisi with the Niccolò de' +Salimbeni, who is thought to have been the founder of the +Fellowship of the Carnation. Furthermore, documents have recently +been brought to light which mention at San Gemignano, in the years +1305 and 1306, a certain Folgore. There is no sufficient reason to +identify this Folgore with the poet; but the name, to say the +least, is so peculiar that its occurrence in the records of so +small a town as San Gemignano gives some confirmation to the +hypothesis of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg004" id= +"pg004">4</a></span> poet's later date. Taking these several +considerations together, I think we must abandon the old view that +Folgore was one of the earliest Tuscan poets, a view which is, +moreover, contradicted by his style. Those critics, at any rate, +who still believe him to have been a predecessor of Dante's, are +forced to reject as spurious the political sonnets referring to +Monte Catini and the plunder of Lucca by Uguccione della Faggiuola. +Yet these sonnets rest on the same manuscript authority as the +Months and Days, and are distinguished by the same qualities.<a +name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +<i>Inferno</i>, xxix. 121.—<i>Longfellow</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The +above points are fully discussed by Signor Giulio Navone, in his +recent edition of <i>Le Rime di Folgore da San Gemignano e di Cene +da la Chitarra d' Arezzo</i>. Bologna: Romagnoli, 1880. I may +further mention that in the sonnet on the Pisans, translated on p. +18, which belongs to the political series, Folgore uses his own +name.</p> +</div> + +<p>Whatever may be the date of Folgore, whether we assign his +period to the middle of the thirteenth or the beginning of the +fourteenth century, there is no doubt but that he presents us with +a very lively picture of Italian manners, drawn from the point of +view of the high bourgeoisie. It is on this account that I have +thought it worth while to translate five of his Sonnets on +Knighthood, which form the fragment that remains to us from a +series of seventeen. Few poems better illustrate the temper of +Italian aristocracy when the civil wars of two centuries had forced +the nobles to enroll themselves among the burghers, and when what +little chivalry had taken root in Italy was fast decaying in a +gorgeous over-bloom of luxury. The institutions of feudal +knighthood had lost their sterner meaning for our poet. He uses +them for the suggestion of delicate allegories fancifully painted. +Their mysterious significance is turned to gaiety, their piety to +amorous delight, their grimness to refined enjoyment. Still these +changes are effected with perfect good taste and in perfect good +faith. Something of the perfume of true <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg005" id="pg005">5</a></span> chivalry still lingered in a +society which was fast becoming mercantile and diplomatic. And this +perfume is exhaled by the petals of Folgore's song-blossom. He has +no conception that to readers of Mort Arthur, or to Founders of the +Garter, to Sir Miles Stapleton, Sir Richard Fitz-Simon, or Sir +James Audley, his ideal knight would have seemed but little better +than a scented civet-cat. Such knights as his were all that Italy +possessed, and the poet-painter was justly proud of them, since +they served for finished pictures of the beautiful in life.</p> + +<p>The Italians were not a feudal race. During the successive +reigns of Lombard, Frankish, and German masters, they had passively +accepted, stubbornly resisted feudalism, remaining true to the +conviction that they themselves were Roman. In Roman memories they +sought the traditions which give consistency to national +consciousness. And when the Italian communes triumphed finally over +Empire, counts, bishops, and rural aristocracy; then Roman law was +speedily substituted for the 'asinine code' of the barbarians, and +Roman civility gave its tone to social customs in the place of +Teutonic chivalry. Yet just as the Italians borrowed, modified, and +misconceived Gothic architecture, so they took a feudal tincture +from the nations of the North with whom they came in contact. Their +noble families, those especially who followed the Imperial party, +sought the honour of knighthood; and even the free cities arrogated +to themselves the right of conferring this distinction by diploma +on their burghers. The chivalry thus formed in Italy was a +decorative institution. It might be compared to the ornamental +frontispiece which masks the structural poverty of such Gothic +buildings as the Cathedral of Orvieto.</p> + +<p>On the descent of the German Emperor into Lombardy, the great +vassals who acknowledged him, made knighthood, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg006" id="pg006">6</a></span> among titles of +more solid import, the price of their allegiance.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_3" id="FNanchor_1_3" /><a href="#Footnote_1_3" +class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Thus the chronicle of the Cortusi for the +year 1354 tells us that when Charles IV. 'was advancing through the +March, and had crossed the Oglio, and was at the borders of +Cremona, in his camp upon the snow, he, sitting upon his horse, did +knight the doughty and noble man, Francesco da Carrara, who had +constantly attended him with a great train, and smiting him upon +the neck with his palm, said: "Be thou a good knight, and loyal to +the Empire." Thereupon the noble German peers dismounted, and +forthwith buckled on Francesco's spurs. To them the Lord Francesco +gave chargers and horses of the best he had.' Immediately +afterwards Francesco dubbed several of his own retainers knights. +And this was the customary fashion of these Lombard lords. For we +read how in the year 1328 Can Grande della Scala, after the capture +of Padua, 'returned to Verona, and for the further celebration of +his victory upon the last day of October held a court, and made +thirty-eight knights with his own hand of the divers districts of +Lombardy.' And in 1294 Azzo d'Este 'was knighted by Gerardo da +Camino, who then was Lord of Treviso, upon the piazza of Ferrara, +before the gate of the Bishop's palace. And on the same day at the +same hour the said Lord Marquis Azzo made fifty-two knights with +his own hand, namely, the Lord Francesco, his brother, and others +of Ferrara, Modena, Bologna, Florence, Padua, and Lombardy; and on +this occasion was a great court held in Ferrara.' Another +chronicle, referring to the same event, says that the whole +expenses of the ceremony, including the rich dresses of the new +knights, were at the charge of the Marquis. It was customary, when +a noble house had risen to great wealth and <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg007" id="pg007">7</a></span> had abundance of +fighting men, to increase its prestige and spread abroad its glory +by a wholesale creation of knights. Thus the Chronicle of Rimini +records a high court held by Pandolfo Malatesta in the May of 1324, +when he and his two sons, with two of his near relatives and +certain strangers from Florence, Bologna, and Perugia, received +this honour. At Siena, in like manner, in the year 1284, 'thirteen +of the house of Salimbeni were knighted with great pomp.'</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_3" id="Footnote_1_3" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_3"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +passages used in the text are chiefly drawn from Muratori's +fifty-third Dissertation.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was not on the battlefield that the Italians sought this +honour. They regarded knighthood as a part of their signorial +parade. Therefore Republics, in whom perhaps, according to strict +feudal notions, there was no fount of honour, presumed to appoint +procurators for the special purpose of making knights. Florence, +Siena, and Arezzo, after this fashion gave the golden spurs to men +who were enrolled in the arts of trade or commerce. The usage was +severely criticised by Germans who visited Italy in the Imperial +train. Otto Frisingensis, writing the deeds of Frederick +Barbarossa, speaks with bitterness thereof: 'To the end that they +may not lack means of subduing their neighbours, they think it no +shame to gird as knights young men of low birth, or even +handicraftsmen in despised mechanic arts, the which folk other +nations banish like the plague from honourable and liberal +pursuits.' Such knights, amid the chivalry of Europe, were not held +in much esteem; nor is it easy to see what the cities, which had +formally excluded nobles from their government, thought to gain by +aping institutions which had their true value only in a feudal +society. We must suppose that the Italians were not firmly set +enough in their own type to resist an enthusiasm which inflamed all +Christendom. At the same time they were too Italian to comprehend +the spirit of the thing they borrowed. The knights thus made +already contained within themselves the germ of those Condottieri +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg008" id="pg008">8</a></span>who +reduced the service of arms to a commercial speculation. But they +lent splendour to the Commonwealth, as may be seen in the grave +line of mounted warriors, steel-clad, with open visors, who guard +the commune of Siena in Ambrogio Lorenzetti's fresco. Giovanni +Villani, in a passage of his Chronicle which deals with the fair +state of Florence just before the outbreak of the Black and White +parties, says the city at that epoch numbered 'three hundred +Cavalieri di Corredo, with many clubs of knights and squires, who +morning and evening went to meat with many men of the court, and +gave away on high festivals many robes of vair.' It is clear that +these citizen knights were leaders of society, and did their duty +to the commonwealth by adding to its joyous cheer. Upon the +battlefields of the civil wars, moreover, they sustained at their +expense the charges of the cavalry.</p> + +<p>Siena was a city much given to parade and devoted to the +Imperial cause, in which the institution of chivalry flourished. +Not only did the burghers take knighthood from their procurators, +but the more influential sought it by a special dispensation from +the Emperor. Thus we hear how Nino Tolomei obtained a +Cæsarean diploma of knighthood for his son Giovanni, and +published it with great pomp to the people in his palace. This +Giovanni, when he afterwards entered religion, took the name of +Bernard, and founded the Order of Monte Oliveto.</p> + +<p>Owing to the special conditions of Italian chivalry, it followed +that the new knight, having won his spurs by no feat of arms upon +the battlefield, was bounden to display peculiar magnificence in +the ceremonies of his investiture. His honour was held to be less +the reward of courage than of liberality. And this feeling is +strongly expressed in a curious passage of Matteo Villani's +Chronicle. 'When the Emperor Charles had received the crown in +Rome, as we have said, he <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg009" id= +"pg009">9</a></span>turned towards Siena, and on the 19th day of +April arrived at that city; and before he entered the same, there +met him people of the commonwealth with great festivity upon the +hour of vespers; in the which reception eight burghers, given to +display but miserly, to the end they might avoid the charges due to +knighthood, did cause themselves then and there to be made knights +by him. And no sooner had he passed the gates than many ran to meet +him without order in their going or provision for the ceremony, and +he, being aware of the vain and light impulse of that folk, +enjoined upon the Patriarch to knight them in his name. The +Patriarch could not withstay from knighting as many as offered +themselves; and seeing the thing so cheap, very many took the +honour, who before that hour had never thought of being knighted, +nor had made provision of what is required from him who seeketh +knighthood, but with light impulse did cause themselves to be borne +upon the arms of those who were around the Patriarch; and when they +were in the path before him, these raised such an one on high, and +took his customary cap off, and after he had had the cheek-blow +which is used in knighting, put a gold-fringed cap upon his head, +and drew him from the press, and so he was a knight. And after this +wise were made four-and-thirty on that evening, of the noble and +lesser folk. And when the Emperor had been attended to his lodging, +night fell, and all returned home; and the new knights without +preparation or expense celebrated their reception into chivalry +with their families forthwith. He who reflects with a mind not +subject to base avarice upon the coming of a new-crowned Emperor +into so famous a city, and bethinks him how so many noble and rich +burghers were promoted to the honour of knighthood in their native +land, men too by nature fond of pomp, without having made any +solemn festival in common or in private to the fame of chivalry, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg010" id="pg010">10</a></span>may +judge this people little worthy of the distinction they +received.'</p> + +<p>This passage is interesting partly as an instance of Florentine +spite against Siena, partly as showing that in Italy great +munificence was expected from the carpet-knights who had not won +their spurs with toil, and partly as proving how the German +Emperors, on their parade expeditions through Italy, debased the +institutions they were bound to hold in respect. Enfeebled by the +extirpation of the last great German house which really reigned in +Italy, the Empire was now no better than a cause of corruption and +demoralisation to Italian society. The conduct of a man like +Charles disgusted even the most fervent Ghibellines; and we find +Fazio degli Uberti flinging scorn upon his avarice and baseness in +such lines as these:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Sappi ch' i' son Italia che ti parlo,</div> + +<div class="i4">Di Lusimburgo <i>ignominioso Carlo</i> ...</div> + +<div class="i4">Veggendo te aver tese tue arti</div> + +<div class="i4"><i>A tór danari e gir con essi a casa</i> +...</div> + +<div class="i4">Tu dunque, Giove, perche 'l Santo uccello</div> + +<div class="i4">Da questo Carlo quarto</div> + +<div class="i4">Imperador non togli e dalle mani</div> + +<div class="i4"><i>Degli altri, lurchi moderni Germani</i></div> + +<div class="i4"><i>Che d' aquila un allocco n' hanno +fatto</i>?</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>From a passage in a Sienese chronicle we learn what ceremonies +of bravery were usual in that city when the new knights understood +their duty. It was the year 1326. Messer Francesco Bandinelli was +about to be knighted on the morning of Christmas Day. The friends +of his house sent peacocks and pheasants by the dozen, and huge +pies of marchpane, and game in quantities. Wine, meat, and bread +were distributed to the Franciscan and other convents, and a fair +and noble court was opened to all comers. Messer Sozzo, father of +the novice, went, attended by his guests, to <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg011" id="pg011">11</a></span>hear high mass in +the cathedral; and there upon the marble pulpit, which the Pisans +carved, the ceremony was completed. Tommaso di Nello bore his sword +and cap and spurs before him upon horseback. Messer Sozzo girded +the sword upon the loins of Messer Francesco, his son aforesaid. +Messer Pietro Ridolfi, of Rome, who was the first vicar that came +to Siena, and the Duke of Calabria buckled on his right spur. The +Captain of the People buckled on his left. The Count Simone da +Battifolle then undid his sword and placed it in the hands of +Messer Giovanni di Messer Bartolo de' Fibenzi da Rodi, who handed +it to Messer Sozzo, the which sword had previously been girded by +the father on his son. After this follows a list of the illustrious +guests, and an inventory of the presents made to them by Messer +Francesco. We find among these 'a robe of silken cloth and gold, +skirt, and fur, and cap lined with vair, with a silken cord.' The +description of the many costly dresses is minute; but I find no +mention of armour. The singers received golden florins, and the +players upon instruments 'good store of money.' A certain Salamone +was presented with the clothes which the novice doffed before he +took the ceremonial bath. The whole catalogue concludes with Messer +Francesco's furniture and outfit. This, besides a large wardrobe of +rich clothes and furs, contains armour and the trappings for +charger and palfrey. The <i>Corte Bandita</i>, or open house held +upon this occasion, lasted for eight days, and the charges on the +Bandinelli estates must have been considerable.</p> + +<p>Knights so made were called in Italy <i>Cavalieri Addobbati</i>, +or <i>di Corredo</i>, probably because the expense of costly +furniture was borne by them—<i>addobbo</i> having become a +name for decorative trappings, and <i>Corredo</i> for equipment. +The latter is still in use for a bride's trousseau. The former has +the same Teutonic root as our verb 'to dub.' But the Italians <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg012" id="pg012">12</a></span>recognised +three other kinds of knights, the <i>Cavalieri Bagati</i>, +<i>Cavalieri di Scudo</i>, and <i>Cavalieri d'Arme</i>. Of the four +sorts Sacchetti writes in one of his novels:—'Knights of the +Bath are made with the greatest ceremonies, and it behoves them to +be bathed and washed of all impurity. Knights of Equipment are +those who take the order with a mantle of dark green and the gilded +garland. Knights of the Shield are such as are made knights by +commonwealths or princes, or go to investiture armed, and with the +casque upon their head. Knights of Arms are those who in the +opening of a battle, or upon a foughten field, are dubbed knights.' +These distinctions, however, though concordant with feudal +chivalry, were not scrupulously maintained in Italy. Messer +Francesco Bandinelli, for example, was certainly a <i>Cavaliere di +Corredo</i>. Yet he took the bath, as we have seen. Of a truth, the +Italians selected those picturesque elements of chivalry which lent +themselves to pageant and parade. The sterner intention of the +institution, and the symbolic meaning of its various ceremonies, +were neglected by them.</p> + +<p>In the foregoing passages, which serve as a lengthy preamble to +Folgore's five sonnets, I have endeavoured to draw illustrations +from the history of Siena, because Folgore represents Sienese +society at the height of mediæval culture. In the first of +the series he describes the preparation made by the aspirant after +knighthood. The noble youth is so bent on doing honour to the order +of chivalry, that he raises money by mortgage to furnish forth the +banquets and the presents due upon the occasion of his institution. +He has made provision also of equipment for himself and all his +train. It will be noticed that Folgore dwells only on the fair and +joyous aspect of the ceremony. The religious enthusiasm of +knighthood has disappeared, and already, in the first decade of the +fourteenth century, we find the spirit <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg013" id="pg013">13</a></span>of Jehan de Saintrè +prevalent in Italy. The word <i>donzello</i>, derived from the +Latin <i>domicellus</i>, I have translated <i>squire</i>, because +the donzel was a youth of gentle birth awaiting knighthood.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">This morn a young squire shall be made a +knight;</div> + +<div class="i4">hereof he fain would be right worthy found,</div> + +<div class="i4">And therefore pledgeth lands and castles +round</div> + +<div class="i4">To furnish all that fits a man of might.</div> + +<div class="i1">Meat, bread and wine he gives to many a +wight;</div> + +<div class="i4">Capons and pheasants on his board abound,</div> + +<div class="i4">Where serving men and pages march around;</div> + +<div class="i4">Choice chambers, torches, and wax candle +light.</div> + +<div class="i1">Barbed steeds, a multitude, are in his +thought,</div> + +<div class="i4">Mailed men at arms and noble company,</div> + +<div class="i4">Spears, pennants, housing cloths, bells richly +wrought.</div> + +<div class="i1">Musicians following with great barony</div> + +<div class="i4">And jesters through the land his state have +brought,</div> + +<div class="i4">With dames and damsels whereso rideth he.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The subject having thus been introduced, Folgore treats the +ceremonies of investiture by an allegorical method, which is quite +consistent with his own preference of images to ideas. Each of the +four following sonnets presents a picture to the mind, admirably +fitted for artistic handling. We may imagine them to ourselves +wrought in arras for a sumptuous chamber. The first treats of the +bath, in which, as we have seen already from Sacchetti's note, the +aspirant after knighthood puts aside all vice, and consecrates +himself anew. Prodezza, or Prowess, must behold him nude from head +to foot, in order to assure herself that the neophyte bears no +blemish; and this inspection is an allegory of internal +wholeness.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Lo Prowess, who despoileth him straightway,</div> + +<div class="i4">And saith: 'Friend, now beseems it thee to +strip;</div> + +<div class="i4">For I will see men naked, thigh and hip,</div> + +<div class="i4">And thou my will must know and eke obey;</div> + +<div class="i1"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg014" id= +"pg014">14</a></span>And leave what was thy wont until this +day,</div> + +<div class="i4">And for new toil, new sweat, thy strength +equip;</div> + +<div class="i4">This do, and thou shalt join my fellowship,</div> + +<div class="i4">If of fair deeds thou tire not nor cry nay.'</div> + +<div class="i1">And when she sees his comely body bare,</div> + +<div class="i4">Forthwith within her arms she him doth take,</div> + +<div class="i4">And saith: 'These limbs thou yieldest to my +prayer;</div> + +<div class="i1">I do accept thee, and this gift thee make,</div> + +<div class="i4">So that thy deeds may shine for ever fair;</div> + +<div class="i4">My lips shall never more thy praise forsake.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>After courage, the next virtue of the knightly character is +gentleness or modesty, called by the Italians humility. It is this +quality which makes a strong man pleasing to the world, and wins +him favour. Folgore's sonnet enables us to understand the motto of +the great Borromeo family—<i>Humilitas</i>, in Gothic letters +underneath the coronet upon their princely palace fronts.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Humility to him doth gently go,</div> + +<div class="i4">And saith: 'I would in no wise weary thee;</div> + +<div class="i4">Yet must I cleanse and wash thee thoroughly,</div> + +<div class="i4">And I will make thee whiter than the snow.</div> + +<div class="i1">Hear what I tell thee in few words, for so</div> + +<div class="i4">Fain am I of thy heart to hold the key;</div> + +<div class="i4">Now must thou sail henceforward after me;</div> + +<div class="i4">And I will guide thee as myself do go.</div> + +<div class="i1">But one thing would I have thee straightway +leave;</div> + +<div class="i4">Well knowest thou mine enemy is pride;</div> + +<div class="i4">Let her no more unto thy spirit cleave:</div> + +<div class="i1">So leal a friend with thee will I abide</div> + +<div class="i4">That favour from all folk thou shalt receive;</div> + +<div class="i4">This grace hath he who keepeth on my side.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The novice has now bathed, approved himself to the searching +eyes of Prowess, and been accepted by Humility. After the bath, it +was customary for him to spend a night in vigil; and this among the +Teutons should have taken place in church, alone before the altar. +But the Italian poet, after his custom, <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg015" id="pg015">15</a></span>gives a suave turn to the +severe discipline. His donzel passes the night in bed, attended by +Discretion, or the virtue of reflection. She provides fair +entertainment for the hours of vigil, and leaves him at the morning +with good counsel. It is not for nothing that he seeks knighthood, +and it behoves him to be careful of his goings. The last three +lines of the sonnet are the gravest of the series, showing that +something of true chivalrous feeling survived even among the +Cavalieri di Corredo of Tuscany.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Then did Discretion to the squire draw near,</div> + +<div class="i4">And drieth him with a fair cloth and clean,</div> + +<div class="i4">And straightway putteth him the sheets +between,</div> + +<div class="i4">Silk, linen, counterpane, and minevere.</div> + +<div class="i1">Think now of this! Until the day was clear,</div> + +<div class="i4">With songs and music and delight the queen,</div> + +<div class="i4">And with new knights, fair fellows +well-beseen,</div> + +<div class="i4">To make him perfect, gave him goodly cheer.</div> + +<div class="i1">Then saith she: 'Rise forthwith, for now 'tis +due,</div> + +<div class="i4">Thou shouldst be born into the world again;</div> + +<div class="i4">Keep well the order thou dost take in view.'</div> + +<div class="i1">Unfathomable thoughts with him remain</div> + +<div class="i4">Of that great bond he may no more eschew,</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor can he say, 'I'll hide me from this +chain.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The vigil is over. The mind of the novice is prepared for his +new duties. The morning of his reception into chivalry has arrived. +It is therefore fitting that grave thoughts should be abandoned; +and seeing that not only prowess, humility, and discretion are the +virtues of a knight, but that he should also be blithe and +debonair, Gladness comes to raise him from his bed and equip him +for the ceremony of institution.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Comes Blithesomeness with mirth and +merriment,</div> + +<div class="i4">All decked in flowers she seemeth a +rose-tree;</div> + +<div class="i4">Of linen, silk, cloth, fur, now beareth she</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg016" id= +"pg016">16</a></span>the new knight a rich habiliment;</div> + +<div class="i1">Head-gear and cap and garland +flower-besprent,</div> + +<div class="i4">So brave they were May-bloom he seemed to be;</div> + +<div class="i4">With such a rout, so many and such glee,</div> + +<div class="i4">That the floor shook. Then to her work she +went;</div> + +<div class="i1">And stood him on his feet in hose and shoon;</div> + +<div class="i4">And purse and gilded girdle 'neath the fur</div> + +<div class="i4">That drapes his goodly limbs, she buckles on;</div> + +<div class="i1">Then bids the singers and sweet music stir,</div> + +<div class="i4">And showeth him to ladies for a boon</div> + +<div class="i4">And all who in that following went with her.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>At this point the poem is abruptly broken. The manuscript from +which these sonnets are taken states they are a fragment. Had the +remaining twelve been preserved to us, we should probably have +possessed a series of pictures in which the procession to church +would have been portrayed, the investiture with the sword, the +accolade, the buckling on of the spurs, and the concluding sports +and banquets. It is very much to be regretted that so interesting, +so beautiful, and so unique a monument of Italian chivalry survives +thus mutilated. But students of art have to arm themselves +continually with patience, repressing the sad thoughts engendered +in them by the spectacle of time's unconscious injuries.</p> + +<p>It is certain that Folgore would have written at least one +sonnet on the quality of courtesy, which in that age, as we have +learned from Matteo Villani, identified itself in the Italian mind +with liberality. This identification marks a certain degradation of +the chivalrous ideal, which is characteristic of Italian manners. +One of Folgore's miscellaneous sonnets shows how sorely he felt the +disappearance of this quality from the midst of a society bent +daily more and more upon material aims. It reminds us of the +lamentable outcries uttered by the later poets of the fourteenth +century, Sacchetti, Boccaccio, Uberti, and others of less fame, +over the decline of their age.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg017" id= +"pg017">17</a></span>Courtesy! Courtesy! Courtesy! I call:</div> + +<div class="i4">But from no quarter comes there a reply.</div> + +<div class="i4">And whoso needs her, ill must us befall.</div> + +<div class="i1">Greed with his hook hath ta'en men one and +all,</div> + +<div class="i4">And murdered every grace that dumb doth lie:</div> + +<div class="i4">Whence, if I grieve, I know the reason why;</div> + +<div class="i4">From you, great men, to God I make my call:</div> + +<div class="i1">For you my mother Courtesy have cast</div> + +<div class="i4">So low beneath your feet she there must +bleed;</div> + +<div class="i4">Your gold remains, but you're not made to +last:</div> + +<div class="i1">Of Eve and Adam we are all the seed:</div> + +<div class="i4">Able to give and spend, you hold wealth fast:</div> + +<div class="i4">Ill is the nature that rears such a breed!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Folgore was not only a poet of occasion and compliment, but a +political writer, who fully entertained the bitter feeling of the +Guelphs against their Ghibelline opponents.</p> + +<p>Two of his sonnets addressed to the Guelphs have been translated +by Mr. Rossetti. In order to complete the list I have made free +versions of two others in which he criticised the weakness of his +own friends. The first is addressed, in the insolent impiety of +rage, to God:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">I praise thee not, O God, nor give thee +glory,</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor yield thee any thanks, nor bow the knee,</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor pay thee service; for this irketh me</div> + +<div class="i4">More than the souls to stand in purgatory;</div> + +<div class="i1">Since thou hast made us Guelphs a jest and +story</div> + +<div class="i4">Unto the Ghibellines for all to see:</div> + +<div class="i4">And if Uguccion claimed tax of thee,</div> + +<div class="i4">Thou'dst pay it without interrogatory.</div> + +<div class="i1">Ah, well I wot they know thee! and have +stolen</div> + +<div class="i4">St. Martin from thee, Altopascio,</div> + +<div class="i4">St. Michael, and the treasure thou hast lost;</div> + +<div class="i1">And thou that rotten rabble so hast swollen</div> + +<div class="i4">That pride now counts for tribute; even so</div> + +<div class="i4">Thou'st made their heart stone-hard to thine own +cost.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg018" id= +"pg018">18</a></span>About the meaning of some lines in this sonnet +I am not clear. But the feeling and the general drift of it are +manifest. The second is a satire on the feebleness and effeminacy +of the Pisans.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Ye are more silky-sleek than ermines are,</div> + +<div class="i4">Ye Pisan counts, knights, damozels, and +squires,</div> + +<div class="i4">Who think by combing out your hair like wires</div> + +<div class="i4">To drive the men of Florence from their car.</div> + +<div class="i1">Ye make the Ghibellines free near and far,</div> + +<div class="i4">Here, there, in cities, castles, huts, and +byres,</div> + +<div class="i4">Seeing how gallant in your brave attires,</div> + +<div class="i4">How bold you look, true paladins of war.</div> + +<div class="i1">Stout-hearted are ye as a hare in chase,</div> + +<div class="i4">To meet the sails of Genoa on the sea;</div> + +<div class="i4">And men of Lucca never saw your face.</div> + +<div class="i1">Dogs with a bone for courtesy are ye:</div> + +<div class="i4">Could Folgore but gain a special grace,</div> + +<div class="i4">He'd have you banded 'gainst all men that be.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Among the sonnets not translated by Mr. Rossetti two by Folgore +remain, which may be classified with the not least considerable +contributions to Italian gnomic poetry in an age when literature +easily assumed a didactic tone. The first has for its subject the +importance of discernment and discrimination. It is written on the +wisdom of what the ancient Greeks called +Καιρός, or the right occasion in +all human conduct.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Dear friend, not every herb puts forth a +flower;</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor every flower that blossoms fruit doth +bear;</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor hath each spoken word a virtue rare;</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor every stone in earth its healing power:</div> + +<div class="i1">This thing is good when mellow, that when +sour;</div> + +<div class="i4">One seems to grieve, within doth rest from +care;</div> + +<div class="i4">Not every torch is brave that flaunts in air;</div> + +<div class="i4">There is what dead doth seem, yet flame doth +shower.</div> + +<div class="i1">Wherefore it ill behoveth a wise man</div> + +<div class="i4">His truss of every grass that grows to bind,</div> + +<div class="i4">Or pile his back with every stone he can,</div> + +<div class="i1"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg019" id= +"pg019">19</a></span>Or counsel from each word to seek to +find,</div> + +<div class="i4">Or take his walks abroad with Dick and Dan:</div> + +<div class="i4">Not without cause I'm moved to speak my mind.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The second condemns those men of light impulse who, as Dante put +it, discoursing on the same theme, 'subject reason to +inclination.'<a name="FNanchor_1_4" id="FNanchor_1_4" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_4" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">What time desire hath o'er the soul such sway</div> + +<div class="i4">That reason finds nor place nor puissance +here,</div> + +<div class="i4">Men oft do laugh at what should claim a tear,</div> + +<div class="i4">And over grievous dole are seeming gay.</div> + +<div class="i1">He sure would travel far from sense astray</div> + +<div class="i4">Who should take frigid ice for fire; and near</div> + +<div class="i4">Unto this plight are those who make glad +cheer</div> + +<div class="i4">For what should rather cause their soul +dismay.</div> + +<div class="i1">But more at heart might he feel heavy pain</div> + +<div class="i4">Who made his reason subject to mere will,</div> + +<div class="i4">And followed wandering impulse without rein;</div> + +<div class="i1">Seeing no lordship is so rich as still</div> + +<div class="i4">One's upright self unswerving to sustain,</div> + +<div class="i4">To follow worth, to flee things vain and ill.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The sonnets translated by me in this essay, taken together with +those already published by Mr. Rossetti, put the English reader in +possession of all that passes for the work of Folgore da San +Gemignano.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_4" id="Footnote_1_4" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_4"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The line +in Dante runs:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">'Che la ragion sommettono al talento.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In Folgore's sonnet we read:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">'Chi sommette rason a volontade.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>On the supposition that Folgore wrote in the second decade of +the fourteenth century, it is not impossible that he may have had +knowledge of this line from the fifth canto of the +<i>Inferno</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Since these words were written, England has lost the +poet-painter, to complete whose work upon the sonnet-writer of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg020" id= +"pg020">20</a></span>mediæval Siena I attempted the +translations in this essay. One who has trodden the same path as +Rossetti, at however a noticeable interval, and has attempted to +present in English verse the works of great Italian singers, doing +inadequately for Michelangelo and Campanella what he did supremely +well for Dante, may here perhaps be allowed to lay the tribute of +reverent recognition at his tomb.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg021" id= +"pg021">21</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="CHRISTMAS" id="CHRISTMAS" /><i>THOUGHTS IN ITALY ABOUT +CHRISTMAS</i></h3> + +<p>What is the meaning of our English Christmas? What makes it seem +so truly Northern, national, and homely, that we do not like to +keep the feast upon a foreign shore? These questions grew upon me +as I stood one Advent afternoon beneath the Dome of Florence. A +priest was thundering from the pulpit against French scepticism, +and exalting the miracle of the Incarnation. Through the whole dim +church blazed altar candles. Crowds of men and women knelt or sat +about the transepts, murmuring their prayers of preparation for the +festival. At the door were pedlars selling little books, in which +were printed the offices for Christmas-tide, with stories of S. +Felix and S. Catherine, whose devotion to the infant Christ had +wrought them weal, and promises of the remission of four +purgatorial centuries to those who zealously observed the service +of the Church at this most holy time. I knew that the people of +Florence were preparing for Christmas in their own way. But it was +not our way. It happened that outside the church the climate seemed +as wintry as our own—snowstorms and ice, and wind and +chilling fog, suggesting Northern cold. But as the palaces of +Florence lacked our comfortable firesides, and the greetings of +friends lacked our hearty handshakes and loud good wishes, so there +seemed to be a want of the home feeling in those Christmas services +and customs. Again I asked myself, 'What do we mean by +Christmas?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg022" id= +"pg022">22</a></span>The same thought pursued me as I drove to +Rome: by Siena, still and brown, uplifted, mid her russet hills and +wilderness of rolling plain; by Chiusi, with its sepulchral city of +a dead and unknown people; through the chestnut forests of the +Apennines; by Orvieto's rock, Viterbo's fountains, and the +oak-grown solitudes of the Ciminian heights, from which one looks +across the broad lake of Bolsena and the Roman plain. Brilliant +sunlight, like that of a day in late September, shone upon the +landscape, and I thought—Can this be Christmas? Are they +bringing mistletoe and holly on the country carts into the towns in +far-off England? Is it clear and frosty there, with the tramp of +heels upon the flag, or snowing silently, or foggy with a round red +sun and cries of warning at the corners of the streets?</p> + +<p>I reached Rome on Christmas Eve, in time to hear midnight +services in the Sistine Chapel and S. John Lateran, to breathe the +dust of decayed shrines, to wonder at doting cardinals begrimed +with snuff, and to resent the open-mouthed bad taste of my +countrymen who made a mockery of these palsy-stricken ceremonies. +Nine cardinals going to sleep, nine train-bearers talking scandal, +twenty huge, handsome Switzers in the dress devised by +Michelangelo, some ushers, a choir caged off by gilded railings, +the insolence and eagerness of polyglot tourists, plenty of wax +candles dripping on people's heads, and a continual nasal drone +proceeding from the gilded cage, out of which were caught at +intervals these words, and these only,—'Sæcula +sæculorum, amen.' Such was the celebrated Sistine service. +The chapel blazed with light, and very strange did Michelangelo's +Last Judgment, his Sibyls, and his Prophets, appear upon the roof +and wall above this motley and unmeaning crowd.</p> + +<p>Next morning I put on my dress-clothes and white tie, and +repaired, with groups of Englishmen similarly attired, and of +Englishwomen in black crape—the regulation costume —to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg023" id="pg023">23</a></span>S. +Peter's. It was a glorious and cloudless morning; sunbeams streamed +in columns from the southern windows, falling on the vast space +full of soldiers and a mingled mass of every kind of people. Up the +nave stood double files of the Pontifical guard. Monks and nuns +mixed with the Swiss cuirassiers and halberds. Contadini crowded +round the sacred images, and especially round the toe of S. Peter. +I saw many mothers lift their swaddled babies up to kiss it. Valets +of cardinals, with the invariable red umbrellas, hung about side +chapels and sacristies. Purple-mantled monsignori, like emperor +butterflies, floated down the aisles from sunlight into shadow. +Movement, colour, and the stir of expectation, made the church +alive. We showed our dress-clothes to the guard, were admitted +within their ranks, and solemnly walked up toward the dome. There +under its broad canopy stood the altar, glittering with gold and +candles. The choir was carpeted and hung with scarlet. Two +magnificent thrones rose ready for the Pope: guards of honour, +soldiers, attachés, and the élite of the residents +and visitors in Rome, were scattered in groups picturesquely varied +by ecclesiastics of all orders and degrees. At ten a stirring took +place near the great west door. It opened, and we saw the +procession of the Pope and his cardinals. Before him marched the +singers and the blowers of the silver trumpets, making the most +liquid melody. Then came his Cap of Maintenance, and three tiaras; +then a company of mitred priests; next the cardinals in scarlet; +and last, aloft beneath a canopy, upon the shoulders of men, and +flanked by the mystic fans, advanced the Pope himself, swaying to +and fro like a Lama, or an Aztec king. Still the trumpets blew most +silverly, and still the people knelt; and as he came, we knelt and +had his blessing. Then he took his state and received homage. After +this the choir began to sing a mass of Palestrina's, and the <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg024" id="pg024">24</a></span>deacons +robed the Pope. Marvellous putting on and taking off of robes and +tiaras and mitres ensued, during which there was much bowing and +praying and burning of incense. At last, when he had reached the +highest stage of sacrificial sanctity, he proceeded to the altar, +waited on by cardinals and bishops. Having censed it carefully, he +took a higher throne and divested himself of part of his robes. +Then the mass went on in earnest, till the moment of consecration, +when it paused, the Pope descended from his throne, passed down the +choir, and reached the altar. Every one knelt; the shrill bell +tinkled; the silver trumpets blew; the air became sick and heavy +with incense, so that sun and candle light swooned in an atmosphere +of odorous cloud-wreaths. The whole church trembled, hearing the +strange subtle music vibrate in the dome, and seeing the Pope with +his own hands lift Christ's body from the altar and present it to +the people. An old parish priest, pilgrim from some valley of the +Apennines, who knelt beside me, cried and quivered with excess of +adoration. The great tombs around, the sculptured saints and +angels, the dome, the volumes of light and incense and unfamiliar +melody, the hierarchy ministrant, the white and central figure of +the Pope, the multitude—made up an overpowering scene. What +followed was comparatively tedious. My mind again went back to +England, and I thought of Christmas services beginning in all +village churches and all cathedrals throughout the land—their +old familiar hymn, their anthem of Handel, their trite and sleepy +sermons. How different the two feasts are—Christmas in Rome, +Christmas in England—Italy and the North—the spirit of +Latin and the spirit of Teutonic Christianity.</p> + +<p>What, then, constitutes the essence of our Christmas as +different from that of more Southern nations? In their origin they +are the same. The stable of Bethlehem, the <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg025" id="pg025">25</a></span>star-led kings, the shepherds, +and the angels—all the beautiful story, in fact, which S. +Luke alone of the Evangelists has preserved for us—are what +the whole Christian world owes to the religious feeling of the +Hebrews. The first and second chapters of S. Luke are most +important in the history of Christian mythology and art. They are +far from containing the whole of what we mean by Christmas; but the +religious poetry which gathers round that season must be sought +upon their pages. Angels, ever since the Exodus, played a first +part in the visions of the Hebrew prophets and in the lives of +their heroes. We know not what reminiscences of old Egyptian genii, +what strange shadows of the winged beasts of Persia, flitted +through their dreams. In the desert, or under the boundless sky of +Babylon, these shapes became no less distinct than the precise +outlines of Oriental scenery. They incarnated the vivid thoughts +and intense longings of the prophets, who gradually came to give +them human forms and titles. We hear of them by name, as servants +and attendants upon God, as guardians of nations, and patrons of +great men. To the Hebrew mind the whole unseen world was full of +spirits, active, strong, and swift of flight, of various aspect, +and with power of speech. It is hard to imagine what the first +Jewish disciples and the early Greek and Roman converts thought of +these great beings. To us, the hierarchies of Dionysius, the +services of the Church, the poetry of Dante and Milton, and the +forms of art, have made them quite familiar. Northern nations have +appropriated the Angels, and invested them with attributes alien to +their Oriental origin. They fly through our pine-forests, and the +gloom of cloud or storm; they ride upon our clanging bells, and +gather in swift squadrons among the arches of Gothic cathedrals; we +see them making light in the cavernous depth of woods, where sun or +moon beams rarely pierce, and ministering <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg026" id="pg026">26</a></span>to the wounded or the weary; +they bear aloft the censers of the mass; they sing in the anthems +of choristers, and live in strains of poetry and music; our +churches bear their names; we call our children by their titles; we +love them as our guardians, and the whole unseen world is made a +home to us by their imagined presence. All these things are the +growth of time and the work of races whose myth-making imagination +is more artistic than that of the Hebrews. Yet this rich legacy of +romance is bound up in the second chapter of S. Luke; and it is to +him we must give thanks when at Christmas-tide we read of the +shepherds and the angels in English words more beautiful than his +own Greek.</p> + +<p>The angels in the stable of Bethlehem, the kings who came from +the far East, and the adoring shepherds, are the gift of Hebrew +legend and of the Greek physician Luke to Christmas. How these +strange and splendid incidents affect modern fancy remains for us +to examine; at present we must ask, What did the Romans give to +Christmas? The customs of the Christian religion, like everything +that belongs to the modern world, have nothing pure and simple in +their nature. They are the growth of long ages, and of widely +different systems, parts of which have been fused into one living +whole. In this respect they resemble our language, our blood, our +literature, and our modes of thought and feeling. We find +Christianity in one sense wholly original; in another sense +composed of old materials; in both senses universal and +cosmopolitan. The Roman element in Christmas is a remarkable +instance of this acquisitive power of Christianity. The celebration +of the festival takes place at the same time as that of the Pagan +Saturnalia; and from the old customs of that holiday, Christmas +absorbed much that was consistent with the spirit of the new +religion. During the Saturnalia the world enjoyed, in thought at +least, a perfect freedom. Men who had gone to bed as <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg027" id="pg027">27</a></span>slaves, rose +their own masters. From the <i>ergastula</i> and dismal sunless +cages they went forth to ramble in the streets and fields. Liberty +of speech was given them, and they might satirise those vices of +their lords to which, on other days, they had to minister. Rome on +this day, by a strange negation of logic, which we might almost +call a prompting of blind conscience, negatived the philosophic +dictum that barbarians were by law of nature slaves, and +acknowledged the higher principle of equality. The Saturnalia stood +out from the whole year as a protest in favour of universal +brotherhood, and the right that all men share alike to enjoy life +after their own fashion, within the bounds that nature has assigned +them. We do not know how far the Stoic school, which was so strong +in Rome, and had so many points of contact with the Christians, may +have connected its own theories of equality with this old custom of +the Saturnalia. But it is possible that the fellowship of human +beings, and the temporary abandonment of class prerogatives, became +a part of Christmas through the habit of the Saturnalia. We are +perhaps practising a Roman virtue to this day when at +Christmas-time our hand is liberal, and we think it wrong that the +poorest wretch should fail to feel the pleasure of the day.</p> + +<p>Of course Christianity inspired the freedom of the Saturnalia +with a higher meaning. The mystery of the Incarnation, or the +deification of human nature, put an end to slavery through all the +year, as well as on this single day. What had been a kind of +aimless licence became the most ennobling principle by which men +are exalted to a state of self-respect and mutual reverence. Still +in the Saturnalia was found, ready-made, an easy symbol of +unselfish enjoyment. It is, however, dangerous to push speculations +of this kind to the very verge of possibility.</p> + +<p>The early Roman Christians probably kept Christmas with <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg028" id="pg028">28</a></span>no special +ceremonies. Christ was as yet too close to them. He had not become +the glorious creature of their fancy, but was partly an historic +being, partly confused in their imagination with reminiscences of +Pagan deities. As the Good Shepherd, and as Orpheus, we find him +painted in the Catacombs; and those who thought of him as God, +loved to dwell upon his risen greatness more than on the idyll of +his birth. To them his entry upon earth seemed less a subject of +rejoicing than his opening of the heavens; they suffered, and +looked forward to a future happiness; they would not seem to make +this world permanent by sharing its gladness with the Heathens. +Theirs, in truth, was a religion of hope and patience, not of +triumphant recollection or of present joyfulness.</p> + +<p>The Northern converts of the early Church added more to the +peculiar character of our Christmas. Who can tell what Pagan rites +were half sanctified by their association with that season, or how +much of our cheerfulness belonged to Heathen orgies and the +banquets of grim warlike gods? Certainly nothing strikes one more +in reading Scandinavian poetry, than the strange mixture of Pagan +and Christian sentiments which it presents. For though the +missionaries of the Church did all they could to wean away the +minds of men from their old superstitions; yet, wiser than their +modern followers, they saw that some things might remain untouched, +and that even the great outlines of the Christian faith might be +adapted to the habits of the people whom they studied to convert. +Thus, on the one hand, they destroyed the old temples one by one, +and called the idols by the name of devils, and strove to +obliterate the songs which sang great deeds of bloody gods and +heroes; while, on the other, they taught the Northern sea-kings +that Jesus was a Prince surrounded by twelve dukes, who conquered +all the world. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg029" id= +"pg029">29</a></span>Besides, they left the days of the week to +their old patrons. It is certain that the imagination of the people +preserved more of heathendom than even such missionaries could +approve; mixing up the deeds of the Christian saints with old +heroic legends; seeing Balder's beauty in Christ and the strength +of Thor in Samson; attributing magic to S. John; swearing, as of +old, bloody oaths in God's name, over the gilded boar's-head; +burning the yule-log, and cutting sacred boughs to grace their +new-built churches.</p> + +<p>The songs of choirs and sound of holy bells, and superstitious +reverence for the mass, began to tell upon the people; and soon the +echo of their old religion only swelled upon the ear at intervals, +attaching itself to times of more than usual sanctity. Christmas +was one of these times, and the old faith threw around its +celebration a fantastic light. Many customs of the genial Pagan +life remained; they seemed harmless when the sense of joy was +Christian. The Druid's mistletoe graced the church porches of +England and of France, and no blood lingered on its berries. +Christmas thus became a time of extraordinary mystery. The people +loved it as connecting their old life with the new religion, +perhaps unconsciously, though every one might feel that Christmas +was no common Christian feast. On its eve strange wonders happened: +the thorn that sprang at Glastonbury from the sacred crown which +Joseph brought with him from Palestine, when Avalon was still an +island, blossomed on that day. The Cornish miners seemed to hear +the sound of singing men arise from submerged churches by the +shore, and others said that bells, beneath the ground where +villages had been, chimed yearly on that eve. No evil thing had +power, as Marcellus in 'Hamlet' tells us, and the bird of dawning +crowed the whole night through. One might multiply folklore about +the sanctity of Christmas, but enough has been said <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg030" id="pg030">30</a></span>to show that +round it lingered long the legendary spirit of old Paganism. It is +not to Jews, or Greeks, or Romans only that we owe our ancient +Christmas fancies, but also to those half-heathen ancestors who +lovingly looked back to Odin's days, and held the old while they +embraced the new.</p> + +<p>Let us imagine Christmas Day in a mediæval town of +Northern England. The cathedral is only partly finished. Its nave +and transepts are the work of Norman architects, but the choir has +been destroyed in order to be rebuilt by more graceful designers +and more skilful hands. The old city is full of craftsmen, +assembled to complete the church. Some have come as a religious +duty, to work off their tale of sins by bodily labour. Some are +animated by a love of art—simple men, who might have rivalled +with the Greeks in ages of more cultivation. Others, again, are +well-known carvers, brought for hire from distant towns and +countries beyond the sea. But to-day, and for some days past, the +sound of hammer and chisel has been silent in the choir. Monks have +bustled about the nave, dressing it up with holly-boughs and bushes +of yew, and preparing a stage for the sacred play they are going to +exhibit on the feast day. Christmas is not like Corpus Christi, and +now the market-place stands inches deep in snow, so that the +Miracles must be enacted beneath a roof instead of in the open air. +And what place so appropriate as the cathedral, where poor people +may have warmth and shelter while they see the show? Besides, the +gloomy old church, with its windows darkened by the falling snow, +lends itself to candlelight effects that will enhance the splendour +of the scene. Everything is ready. The incense of morning mass yet +lingers round the altar. The voice of the friar who told the people +from the pulpit the story of Christ's birth, has hardly ceased to +echo. Time has just been given for a mid-day dinner, and for the +shepherds and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg031" id= +"pg031">31</a></span> farm lads to troop in from the country-side. +The monks are ready at the wooden stage to draw its curtain, and +all the nave is full of eager faces. There you may see the smith +and carpenter, the butcher's wife, the country priest, and the grey +cowled friar. Scores of workmen, whose home the cathedral for the +time is made, are also here, and you may know the artists by their +thoughtful foreheads and keen eyes. That young monk carved Madonna +and her Son above the southern porch. Beside him stands the master +mason, whose strong arms have hewn gigantic images of prophets and +apostles for the pinnacles outside the choir; and the little man +with cunning eyes between the two is he who cuts such quaint +hobgoblins for the gargoyles. He has a vein of satire in him, and +his humour overflows into the stone. Many and many a grim beast and +hideous head has he hidden among vine-leaves and trellis-work upon +the porches. Those who know him well are loth to anger him, for +fear their sons and sons' sons should laugh at them for ever +caricatured in solid stone.</p> + +<p>Hark! there sounds the bell. The curtain is drawn, and the +candles blaze brightly round the wooden stage. What is this first +scene? We have God in Heaven, dressed like a Pope with triple +crown, and attended by his court of angels. They sing and toss up +censers till he lifts his hand and speaks. In a long Latin speech +he unfolds the order of creation and his will concerning man. At +the end of it up leaps an ugly buffoon, in goatskin, with rams' +horns upon his head. Some children begin to cry; but the older +people laugh, for this is the Devil, the clown and comic character, +who talks their common tongue, and has no reverence before the very +throne of Heaven. He asks leave to plague men, and receives it; +then, with many a curious caper, he goes down to Hell, beneath the +stage. The angels sing and toss their censers as before, and the +first scene closes to a sound of <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg032" id="pg032">32</a></span> organs. The next is more +conventional, in spite of some grotesque incidents. It represents +the Fall; the monks hurry over it quickly, as a tedious but +necessary prelude to the birth of Christ. That is the true +Christmas part of the ceremony, and it is understood that the best +actors and most beautiful dresses are to be reserved for it. The +builders of the choir in particular are interested in the coming +scenes, since one of their number has been chosen, for his handsome +face and tenor voice, to sing the angel's part. He is a young +fellow of nineteen, but his beard is not yet grown, and long hair +hangs down upon his shoulders. A chorister of the cathedral, his +younger brother, will act the Virgin Mary. At last the curtain is +drawn.</p> + +<p>We see a cottage-room, dimly lighted by a lamp, and Mary +spinning near her bedside. She sings a country air, and goes on +working, till a rustling noise is heard, more light is thrown upon +the stage, and a glorious creature, in white raiment, with broad +golden wings, appears. He bears a lily, and cries,—'Ave +Maria, Gratia Plena!' She does not answer, but stands confused, +with down-dropped eyes and timid mien. Gabriel rises from the +ground and comforts her, and sings aloud his message of glad +tidings. Then Mary gathers courage, and, kneeling in her turn, +thanks God; and when the angel and his radiance disappears, she +sings the song of the Magnificat clearly and simply, in the +darkened room. Very soft and silver sounds this hymn through the +great church. The women kneel, and children are hushed as by a +lullaby. But some of the hinds and 'prentice lads begin to think it +rather dull. They are not sorry when the next scene opens with a +sheepfold and a little camp-fire. Unmistakable bleatings issue from +the fold, and five or six common fellows are sitting round the +blazing wood. One might fancy they had stepped straight from the +church floor to the stage, so natural <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg033" id="pg033">33</a></span> do they look. Besides, they +call themselves by common names—Colin, and Tom Lie-a-bed, and +nimble Dick. Many a round laugh wakes echoes in the church when +these shepherds stand up, and hold debate about a stolen sheep. Tom +Lie-a-bed has nothing to remark but that he is very sleepy, and +does not want to go in search of it to-night; Colin cuts jokes, and +throws out shrewd suspicions that Dick knows something of the +matter; but Dick is sly, and keeps them off the scent, although a +few of his asides reveal to the audience that he is the real thief. +While they are thus talking, silence falls upon the shepherds. Soft +music from the church organ breathes, and they appear to fall +asleep.</p> + +<p>The stage is now quite dark, and for a few moments the aisles +echo only to the dying melody. When, behold, a ray of light is +seen, and splendour grows around the stage from hidden candles, and +in the glory Gabriel appears upon a higher platform made to look +like clouds. The shepherds wake in confusion, striving to shelter +their eyes from this unwonted brilliancy. But Gabriel waves his +lily, spreads his great gold wings, and bids good cheer with +clarion voice. The shepherds fall to worship, and suddenly round +Gabriel there gathers a choir of angels, and a song of 'Gloria in +Excelsis' to the sound of a deep organ is heard far off. From +distant aisles it swells, and seems to come from heaven. Through a +long resonant fugue the glory flies, and as it ceases with complex +conclusion, the lights die out, the angels disappear, and Gabriel +fades into the darkness. Still the shepherds kneel, rustically +chanting a carol half in Latin, half in English, which begins 'In +dulci Jubilo.' The people know it well, and when the chorus rises +with 'Ubi sunt gaudia?' its wild melody is caught by voices up and +down the nave. This scene makes deep impression upon many hearts; +for the beauty of Gabriel is rare, and few who see him in his +angel's dress <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg034" id= +"pg034">34</a></span> would know him for the lad who daily carves +his lilies and broad water-flags about the pillars of the choir. To +that simple audience he interprets Heaven, and little children will +see him in their dreams. Dark winter nights and awful forests will +be trodden by his feet, made musical by his melodious voice, and +parted by the rustling of his wings. The youth himself may return +to-morrow to the workman's blouse and chisel, but his memory lives +in many minds and may form a part of Christmas for the fancy of men +as yet unborn.</p> + +<p>The next drawing of the curtain shows us the stable of Bethlehem +crowned by its star. There kneels Mary, and Joseph leans upon his +staff. The ox and ass are close at hand, and Jesus lies in jewelled +robes on straw within the manger. To right and left bow the +shepherds, worshipping in dumb show, while voices from behind chant +a solemn hymn. In the midst of the melody is heard a flourish of +trumpets, and heralds step upon the stage, followed by the three +crowned kings. They have come from the far East, led by the star. +The song ceases, while drums and fifes and trumpets play a stately +march. The kings pass by, and do obeisance one by one. Each gives +some costly gift; each doffs his crown and leaves it at the +Saviour's feet. Then they retire to a distance and worship in +silence like the shepherds. Again the angel's song is heard, and +while it dies away the curtain closes, and the lights are put +out.</p> + +<p>The play is over, and evening has come. The people must go from +the warm church into the frozen snow, and crunch their homeward way +beneath the moon. But in their minds they carry a sense of light +and music and unearthly loveliness. Not a scene of this day's +pageant will be lost. It grows within them and creates the poetry +of Christmas. Nor must we forget the sculptors who listen to the +play. We spoke of them minutely, because these mysteries sank deep +into their <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg035" id= +"pg035">35</a></span> souls and found a way into their carvings on +the cathedral walls. The monk who made Madonna by the southern +porch, will remember Gabriel, and place him bending low in lordly +salutation by her side. The painted glass of the chapter-house will +glow with fiery choirs of angels learned by heart that night. And +who does not know the mocking devils and quaint satyrs that the +humorous sculptor will carve among his fruits and flowers? Some of +the misereres of the stalls still bear portraits of the shepherd +thief, and of the ox and ass who blinked so blindly when the kings, +by torchlight, brought their dazzling gifts. Truly these old +miracle-plays, and the carved work of cunning hands that they +inspired, are worth to us more than all the delicate creations of +Italian pencils. Our homely Northern churches still retain, for the +child who reads their bosses and their sculptured fronts, more +Christmas poetry than we can find in Fra Angelico's devoutness or +the liveliness of Giotto. Not that Southern artists have done +nothing for our Christmas. Cimabue's gigantic angels at Assisi, and +the radiant seraphs of Raphael or of Signorelli, were seen by +Milton in his Italian journey. He gazed in Romish churches on +graceful Nativities, into which Angelico and Credi threw their +simple souls. How much they tinged his fancy we cannot say. But +what we know of heavenly hierarchies we later men have learned from +Milton; and what he saw he spoke, and what he spoke in sounding +verse lives for us now and sways our reason, and controls our +fancy, and makes fine art of high theology.</p> + +<p>Thus have I attempted rudely to recall a scene of mediæval +Christmas. To understand the domestic habits of that age is not so +easy, though one can fancy how the barons in their halls held +Christmas, with the boar's head and the jester and the great +yule-log. On the daïs sat lord and lady, waited on by knight +and squire and page; but down the long <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg036" id="pg036">36</a></span> hall feasted yeomen and hinds +and men-at-arms. Little remains to us of those days, and we have +outworn their jollity. It is really from the Elizabethan poets that +our sense of old-fashioned festivity arises. They lived at the end +of one age and the beginning of another. Though born to inaugurate +the new era, they belonged by right of association and sympathy to +the period that was fleeting fast away. This enabled them to +represent the poetry of past and present. Old customs and old +states of feeling, when they are about to perish, pass into the +realm of art. For art is like a flower, which consummates the plant +and ends its growth, while it translates its nature into +loveliness. Thus Dante and Lorenzetti and Orcagna enshrined +mediæval theology in works of imperishable beauty, and +Shakspere and his fellows made immortal the life and manners that +were decaying in their own time. Men do not reflect upon their mode +of living till they are passing from one state to another, and the +consciousness of art implies a beginning of new things. Let one who +wishes to appreciate the ideal of an English Christmas read +Shakspere's song, 'When icicles hang by the wall;' and if he knows +some old grey grange, far from the high-road, among pastures, with +a river flowing near, and cawing rooks in elm-trees by the +garden-wall, let him place Dick and Joan and Marian there.</p> + +<p>We have heard so much of pensioners, and barons of beef, and +yule-logs, and bay, and rosemary, and holly boughs cut upon the +hillside, and crab-apples bobbing in the wassail bowl, and masques +and mummers, and dancers on the rushes, that we need not here +describe a Christmas Eve in olden times. Indeed, this last half of +the nineteenth century is weary of the worn-out theme. But one +characteristic of the age of Elizabeth may be mentioned: that is +its love of music. Fugued melodies, sung by voices without +instruments, were <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg037" id= +"pg037">37</a></span> much in vogue. We call them madrigals, and +their half-merry, half-melancholy music yet recalls the time when +England had her gift of art, when she needed not to borrow of +Marenzio and Palestrina, when her Wilbyes and her Morlands and her +Dowlands won the praise of Shakspere and the court. We hear the +echo of those songs; and in some towns at Christmas or the New Year +old madrigals still sound in praise of Oriana and of Phyllis and +the country life. What are called 'waits' are but a poor travesty +of those well-sung Elizabethan carols. We turn in our beds half +pitying, half angered by harsh voices that quaver senseless ditties +in the fog, or by tuneless fiddles playing popular airs without +propriety or interest.</p> + +<p>It is a strange mixture of picturesquely blended elements which +the Elizabethan age presents. We see it afar off like the meeting +of a hundred streams that grow into a river. We are sailing on the +flood long after it has shrunk into a single tide, and the banks +are dull and tame, and the all-absorbing ocean is before us. Yet +sometimes we hear a murmur of the distant fountains, and Christmas +is a day on which for some the many waters of the age of great +Elizabeth sound clearest.</p> + +<p>The age which followed was not poetical. The Puritans restrained +festivity and art, and hated music. Yet from this period stands out +the hymn of Milton, written when he was a youth, but bearing +promise of his later muse. At one time, as we read it, we seem to +be looking on a picture by some old Italian artist. But no picture +can give Milton's music or make the 'base of heaven's deep organ +blow.' Here he touches new associations, and reveals the realm of +poetry which it remains for later times to traverse. Milton felt +the true sentiment of Northern Christmas when he opened his poem +with the 'winter wild,' in defiance of historical probability <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg038" id="pg038">38</a></span> and what +the French call local colouring. Nothing shows how wholly we people +of the North have appropriated Christmas, and made it a creature of +our own imagination, more than this dwelling on winds and snows and +bitter frosts, so alien from the fragrant nights of Palestine. But +Milton's hymn is like a symphony, embracing many thoughts and +periods of varying melody. The music of the seraphim brings to his +mind the age of gold, and that suggests the judgment and the +redemption of the world. Satan's kingdom fails, the false gods go +forth, Apollo leaves his rocky throne, and all the dim Phoenician +and Egyptian deities, with those that classic fancy fabled, troop +away like ghosts into the darkness. What a swell of stormy sound is +in those lines! It recalls the very voice of Pan, which went abroad +upon the waters when Christ died, and all the utterances of God on +earth, feigned in Delphian shrines, or truly spoken on the sacred +hills, were mute for ever.</p> + +<p>After Milton came the age which, of all others, is the prosiest +in our history. We cannot find much novelty of interest added to +Christmas at this time. But there is one piece of poetry that +somehow or another seems to belong to the reign of Anne and of the +Georges—the poetry of bells. Great civic corporations reigned +in those days; churchwardens tyrannised and were rich; and many a +goodly chime of bells they hung in our old church-steeples. Let us +go into the square room of the belfry, where the clock ticks all +day, and the long ropes hang dangling down, with fur upon their +hemp for ringers' hands above the socket set for ringers' feet. +There we may read long lists of gilded names, recording mountainous +bob-majors, rung a century ago, with special praise to him who +pulled the tenor-bell, year after year, until he died, and left it +to his son. The art of bell-ringing is profound, and requires a +long apprenticeship. Even now, in some old cities, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg039" id="pg039">39</a></span> the ringers form +a guild and mystery. Suppose it to be Christmas Eve in the year +1772. It is now a quarter before twelve, and the sexton has +unlocked the church-gates and set the belfry door ajar. Candles are +lighted in the room above, and jugs of beer stand ready for the +ringers. Up they bustle one by one, and listen to the tickings of +the clock that tells the passing minutes. At last it gives a click; +and now they throw off coat and waistcoat, strap their girdles +tighter round the waist, and each holds his rope in readiness. +Twelve o'clock strikes, and forth across the silent city go the +clamorous chimes. The steeple rocks and reels, and far away the +night is startled. Damp turbulent west winds, rushing from the +distant sea, and swirling up the inland valleys, catch the sound, +and toss it to and fro, and bear it by gusts and snatches to +watchers far away, upon bleak moorlands and the brows of woody +hills. Is there not something dim and strange in the thought of +these eight men meeting, in the heart of a great city, in the +narrow belfry-room, to stir a mighty sound that shall announce to +listening ears miles, miles away, the birth of a new day, and tell +to dancers, mourners, students, sleepers, and perhaps to dying men, +that Christ is born?</p> + +<p>Let this association suffice for the time. And of our own +Christmas so much has been said and sung by better voices, that we +may leave it to the feelings and the memories of those who read the +fireside tales of Dickens, and are happy in their homes. The many +elements which I have endeavoured to recall, mix all of them in the +Christmas of the present, partly, no doubt, under the form of vague +and obscure sentiment; partly as time-honoured reminiscences, +partly as a portion of our own life. But there is one phase of +poetry which we enjoy more fully than any previous age. That is +music. Music is of all the arts the youngest, and of all can free +herself <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg040" id= +"pg040">40</a></span> most readily from symbols. A fine piece of +music moves before us like a living passion, which needs no form or +colour, no interpreting associations, to convey its strong but +indistinct significance. Each man there finds his soul revealed to +him, and enabled to assume a cast of feeling in obedience to the +changeful sound. In this manner all our Christmas thoughts and +emotions have been gathered up for us by Handel in his drama of the +'Messiah.' To Englishmen it is almost as well known and necessary +as the Bible. But only one who has heard its pastoral episode +performed year after year from childhood in the hushed cathedral, +where pendent lamps or sconces make the gloom of aisle and choir +and airy column half intelligible, can invest this music with long +associations of accumulated awe. To his mind it brings a scene at +midnight of hills clear in the starlight of the East, with white +flocks scattered on the down. The breath of winds that come and go, +the bleating of the sheep, with now and then a tinkling bell, and +now and then the voice of an awakened shepherd, is all that breaks +the deep repose. Overhead shimmer the bright stars, and low to west +lies the moon, not pale and sickly (he dreams) as in our North, but +golden, full, and bathing distant towers and tall aërial palms +with floods of light. Such is a child's vision, begotten by the +music of the symphony; and when he wakes from trance at its low +silver close, the dark cathedral seems glowing with a thousand +angel faces, and all the air is tremulous with angel wings. Then +follow the solitary treble voice and the swift chorus.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg041" id= +"pg041">41</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="SIENA" id="SIENA" /><i>SIENA</i></h3> + +<p>After leaving the valley of the Arno at Empoli, the railway +enters a country which rises into earthy hills of no great height, +and spreads out at intervals into broad tracts of cultivated +lowland. Geologically speaking, this portion of Tuscany consists of +loam and sandy deposits, forming the basin between two +mountain-ranges—the Apennines and the chalk hills of the +western coast of Central Italy. Seen from the eminence of some old +Tuscan turret, this champaign country has a stern and arid aspect. +The earth is grey and dusty, the forms of hill and valley are +austere and monotonous; even the vegetation seems to sympathise +with the uninteresting soil from which it springs. A few spare +olives cast their shadows on the lower slopes; here and there a +copse of oakwood and acacia marks the course of some small rivulet; +rye-fields, grey beneath the wind, clothe the hillsides with scanty +verdure. Every knoll is crowned with a village—brown roofs +and white house-fronts clustered together on the edge of cliffs, +and rising into the campanile or antique tower, which tells so many +stories of bygone wars and decayed civilisations.</p> + +<p>Beneath these villages stand groups of stone pines clearly +visible upon the naked country, cypresses like spires beside the +square white walls of convent or of villa, patches of dark foliage, +showing where the ilex and the laurel and the myrtle hide thick +tangles of rose-trees and jessamines in ancient gardens. Nothing +can exceed the barren aspect of this <a name="pg042" id= +"pg042"></a><span class="pagenum">42</span> country in midwinter: +it resembles an exaggerated Sussex, without verdure to relieve the +rolling lines of down, and hill, and valley; beautiful yet, by +reason of its frequent villages and lucid air and infinitely subtle +curves of mountain-ridges. But when spring comes, a light and +beauty break upon this gloomy soil; the whole is covered with a +delicate green veil of rising crops and fresh foliage, and the +immense distances which may be seen from every height are blue with +cloud-shadows, or rosy in the light of sunset.</p> + +<p>Of all the towns of Lower Tuscany, none is more celebrated than +Siena. It stands in the very centre of the district which I have +attempted to describe, crowning one of its most considerable +heights, and commanding one of its most extensive plains. As a city +it is a typical representative of those numerous Italian towns, +whose origin is buried in remote antiquity, which have formed the +seat of three civilisations, and which still maintain a vigorous +vitality upon their ancient soil. Its site is Etruscan, its name is +Roman, but the town itself owes all its interest and beauty to the +artists and the statesmen and the warriors of the middle ages. A +single glance at Siena from one of the slopes on the northern side, +will show how truly mediæval is its character. A city wall +follows the outline of the hill, from which the towers of the +cathedral and the palace, with other cupolas and red-brick +campanili, spring; while cypresses and olive-gardens stretch +downwards to the plain. There is not a single Palladian +façade or Renaissance portico to interrupt the unity of the +effect. Over all, in the distance, rises Monte Amiata melting +imperceptibly into sky and plain.</p> + +<p>The three most striking objects of interest in Siena maintain +the character of mediæval individuality by which the town is +marked. They are the public palace, the cathedral, and the house of +S. Catherine. The civil life, the arts, and <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg043" id="pg043">43</a></span> the religious +tendencies of Italy during the ascendency of mediæval ideas, +are strongly set before us here. High above every other building in +the town soars the straight brick tower of the Palazzo Pubblico, +the house of the republic, the hearth of civil life within the +State. It guards an irregular Gothic building in which the old +government of Siena used to be assembled, but which has now for a +long time been converted into prisons, courts of law, and +showrooms. Let us enter one chamber of the Palazzo—the Sala +della Pace, where Ambrogio Lorenzetti, the greatest, perhaps, of +Sienese painters, represented the evils of lawlessness and tyranny, +and the benefits of peace and justice, in three noble allegories. +They were executed early in the fourteenth century, in the age of +allegories and symbolism, when poets and painters strove to +personify in human shape all thoughts and sentiments. The first +great fresco represents Peace—the peace of the Republic of +Siena. Ambrogio has painted the twenty-four councillors who formed +the Government, standing beneath the thrones of Concord, Justice, +and Wisdom. From these controlling powers they stretch in a long +double line to a seated figure, gigantic in size, and robed with +the ensigns of baronial sovereignty. This figure is the State and +Majesty of Siena.<a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5" /><a +href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Around him +sit Peace, Fortitude, and Prudence, <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg044" id="pg044">44</a></span> Temperance, Magnanimity, and +Justice, inalienable assessors of a powerful and righteous lord. +Faith, Hope, and Charity, the Christian virtues, float like angels +in the air above. Armed horsemen guard his throne, and captives +show that he has laid his enemy beneath his feet. Thus the +mediæval artist expressed, by painting, his theory of +government. The rulers of the State are subordinate to the State +itself; they stand between the State and the great animating +principles of wisdom, justice, and concord, incarnating the one, +and receiving inspiration from the others. The pagan qualities of +prudence, magnanimity, and courage give stability and greatness to +good government, while the spirit of Christianity must harmonise +and rule the whole. Arms, too, are needful to maintain by force +what right and law demand, and victory in a just quarrel proclaims +the power and vigour of the commonwealth. On another wall Ambrogio +has depicted the prosperous city of Siena, girt by battlements and +moat, with tower and barbican and drawbridge, to insure its peace. +Through the gates stream country-people, bringing the produce of +their farms into the town. The streets are crowded with men and +women intent on business or pleasure; craftsmen at their trade, +merchants with laden mules, a hawking party, hunters scouring the +plain, girls dancing, and children playing in the open square. A +school-master watching his class, together with the sculptured +figures of Geometry, Astronomy, and Philosophy, remind us that +education and science flourish under the dominion of well-balanced +laws. The third fresco exhibits the reverse of this fair spectacle. +Here Tyranny presides over a scene of anarchy and wrong. He is a +hideous monster, compounded of all the bestial attributes which +indicate force, treason, lechery, and fear. Avarice and Fraud and +Cruelty and War and Fury sit around him. At his feet lies Justice, +and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg045" id= +"pg045">45</a></span> above are the effigies of Nero, Caracalla, +and like monsters of ill-regulated power. Not far from the castle +of Tyranny we see the same town as in the other fresco; but its +streets are filled with scenes of quarrel, theft, and bloodshed. +Nor are these allegories merely fanciful. In the middle ages the +same city might more than once during one lifetime present in the +vivid colours of reality the two contrasted pictures.<a name= +"FNanchor_2_6" id="FNanchor_2_6" /><a href="#Footnote_2_6" +class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It is +probable that the firm Ghibelline sympathies of the Sienese people +for the Empire were allegorised in this figure; so that the fresco +represented by form and colour what Dante had expressed in his +treatise 'De Monarchiâ.' Among the virtues who attend him, +Peace distinguishes herself by rare and very remarkable beauty. She +is dressed in white and crowned with olive; the folds of her +drapery, clinging to the delicately modelled limbs beneath, +irresistibly suggest a classic statue. So again does the monumental +pose of her dignified, reclining, and yet languid figure. It seems +not unreasonable to believe that Lorenzetti copied Peace from the +antique Venus which belonged to the Sienese, and which in a fit of +superstitious malice they subsequently destroyed and buried in +Florentine soil.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_6" id="Footnote_2_6" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_6"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Siena, +of all Italian cities, was most subject to revolutions. Comines +describes it as a city which 'se gouverne plus follement que ville +d'Italie.' Varchi calls it 'un guazzabuglio ed una confusione di +repubbliche piuttosto che bene ordinata e instituta repubblica.' +See my 'Age of the Despots' (<i>Renaissance in Italy</i>, Part I.), +pp. 141, 554, for some account of the Sienese constitution, and of +the feuds and reconciliations of the burghers.</p> +</div> + +<p>Quitting the Palazzo, and threading narrow streets, paved with +brick and overshadowed with huge empty palaces, we reach the +highest of the three hills on which Siena stands, and see before us +the Duomo. This church is the most purely Gothic of all Italian +cathedrals designed by national architects. Together with that of +Orvieto, it stands to show what the unassisted genius of the +Italians could produce, when under the empire of mediæval +Christianity and before the advent of the neopagan spirit. It is +built wholly of marble, and overlaid, inside and out, with florid +ornaments of exquisite beauty. There are no flying buttresses, no +pinnacles, no deep and fretted doorways, such as form the charm of +French and English architecture; but instead of this, the lines of +parti-coloured marbles, the scrolls and wreaths of foliage, the +mosaics and the frescoes which meet the eye in every direction, +satisfy our sense of variety, producing most agreeable combinations +of blending hues and harmoniously connected forms. The chief fault +which offends against our Northern taste is the predominance of +horizontal lines, both in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg046" +id="pg046">46</a></span> construction of the façade, and +also in the internal decoration. This single fact sufficiently +proves that the Italians had never seized the true idea of Gothic +or aspiring architecture. But, allowing for this original defect, +we feel that the Cathedral of Siena combines solemnity and +splendour to a degree almost unrivalled. Its dome is another point +in which the instinct of Italian architects has led them to adhere +to the genius of their ancestral art rather than to follow the +principles of Gothic design. The dome is Etruscan and Roman, native +to the soil, and only by a kind of violence adapted to the +character of pointed architecture. Yet the builders of Siena have +shown what a glorious element of beauty might have been added to +our Northern cathedrals, had the idea of infinity which our +ancestors expressed by long continuous lines, by complexities of +interwoven aisles, and by multitudinous aspiring pinnacles, been +carried out into vast spaces of aërial cupolas, completing and +embracing and covering the whole like heaven. The Duomo, as it now +stands, forms only part of a vast design. On entering we are amazed +to hear that this church, which looks so large, from the beauty of +its proportions, the intricacy of its ornaments, and the +interlacing of its columns, is but the transept of the intended +building lengthened a little, and surmounted by a cupola and +campanile.<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Yet such is the +fact. Soon after its commencement a plague swept over Italy, nearly +depopulated Siena, and reduced the town to penury for want of men. +The cathedral, which, had it been accomplished, would have +surpassed all Gothic churches south of the Alps, remained a ruin. A +fragment of the nave still stands, enabling us to judge of its +extent. The eastern wall <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg047" id= +"pg047">47</a></span> joins what was to have been the transept, +measuring the mighty space which would have been enclosed by marble +vaults and columns delicately wrought. The sculpture on the eastern +door shows with what magnificence the Sienese designed to ornament +this portion of their temple; while the southern façade +rears itself aloft above the town, like those high arches which +testify to the past splendour of Glastonbury Abbey; but the sun +streams through the broken windows, and the walls are encumbered +with hovels and stables and the refuse of surrounding streets.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +present church was begun about 1229. In 1321 the burghers fancied +it was too small for the fame and splendour of their city. So they +decreed a new <i>ecclesia pulcra, magna, et magnifica</i>, for +which the older but as yet unfinished building was to be the +transept.</p> +</div> + +<p>One most remarkable feature of the internal decoration is a line +of heads of the Popes carried all round the church above the lower +arches. Larger than life, white solemn faces they lean, each from +his separate niche, crowned with the triple tiara, and labelled +with the name he bore. Their accumulated majesty brings the whole +past history of the Church into the presence of its living members. +A bishop walking up the nave of Siena must feel as a Roman felt +among the waxen images of ancestors renowned in council or in war. +Of course these portraits are imaginary for the most part; but the +artists have contrived to vary their features and expression with +great skill.</p> + +<p>Not less peculiar to Siena is the pavement of the cathedral. It +is inlaid with a kind of <i>tarsia</i> work in stone, setting forth +a variety of pictures in simple but eminently effective mosaic. +Some of these compositions are as old as the cathedral; others are +the work of Beccafumi and his scholars. They represent, in the +liberal spirit of mediæval Christianity, the history of the +Church before the Incarnation. Hermes Trismegistus and the Sibyls +meet us at the doorway: in the body of the church we find the +mighty deeds of the old Jewish heroes—of Moses and Samson and +Joshua and Judith. Independently of the artistic beauty of the +designs, of the skill <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg048" id= +"pg048">48</a></span> with which men and horses are drawn in the +most difficult attitudes, of the dignity of some single figures, +and of the vigour and simplicity of the larger compositions, a +special interest attaches to this pavement in connection with the +twelfth canto of the 'Purgatorio.' Dante cannot have trodden these +stones and meditated upon their sculptured histories. Yet when we +read how he journeyed through the plain of Purgatory with eyes +intent upon its storied floor, how 'morti i morti, e i vivi parean +vivi,' how he saw 'Nimrod at the foot of his great work, +confounded, gazing at the people who were proud with him,' we are +irresistibly led to think of the Divine comedy. The strong and +simple outlines of the pavement correspond to the few words of the +poet. Bending over these pictures and trying to learn their lesson, +with the thought of Dante in our mind, the tones of an organ, +singularly sweet and mellow, fall upon our ears, and we remember +how he heard <i>Te Deum</i> sung within the gateway of +repentance.</p> + +<p>Continuing our walk, we descend the hill on which the Duomo +stands, and reach a valley lying between the ancient city of Siena +and a western eminence crowned by the church of San Domenico. In +this depression there has existed from old time a kind of suburb or +separate district of the poorer people known by the name of the +Contrada d' Oca. To the Sienese it has especial interest, for here +is the birthplace of S. Catherine, the very house in which she +lived, her father's workshop, and the chapel which has been erected +in commemoration of her saintly life. Over the doorway is written +in letters of gold 'Sponsa Christi Katherinæ domus.' Inside +they show the room she occupied, and the stone on which she placed +her head to sleep; they keep her veil and staff and lantern and +enamelled vinaigrette, the bag in which her alms were placed, the +sackcloth that she wore beneath her dress, the crucifix from which +she took the wounds of Christ. It is impossible <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg049" id="pg049">49</a></span> to conceive, +even after the lapse of several centuries, that any of these relics +are fictitious. Every particular of her life was remembered and +recorded with scrupulous attention by devoted followers. Her fame +was universal throughout Italy before her death; and the house from +which she went forth to preach and heal the sick and comfort +plague-stricken wretches whom kith and kin had left alone to die, +was known and well beloved by all her citizens. From the moment of +her death it became, and has continued to be, the object of +superstitious veneration to thousands. From the little loggia which +runs along one portion of its exterior may be seen the campanile +and the dome of the cathedral; on the other side rises the huge +brick church of San Domenico, in which she spent the long ecstatic +hours that won for her the title of Christ's spouse. In a chapel +attached to the church she watched and prayed, fasting and +wrestling with the fiends of a disordered fancy. There Christ +appeared to her and gave her His own heart, there He administered +to her the sacrament with His own hands, there she assumed the robe +of poverty, and gave her Lord the silver cross and took from Him +the crown of thorns.</p> + +<p>To some of us these legends may appear the flimsiest web of +fiction: to others they may seem quite explicable by the laws of +semi-morbid psychology; but to Catherine herself, her biographers, +and her contemporaries, they were not so. The enthusiastic saint +and reverent people believed firmly in these things; and, after the +lapse of five centuries, her votaries still kiss the floor and +steps on which she trod, still say, 'This was the wall on which she +leant when Christ appeared; this was the corner where she clothed +Him, naked and shivering like a beggar-boy; here He sustained her +with angels' food.'</p> + +<p>S. Catherine was one of twenty-five children born in <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg050" id="pg050">50</a></span> wedlock to +Jacopo and Lapa Benincasa, citizens of Siena. Her father exercised +the trade of dyer and fuller. In the year of her birth, 1347, Siena +reached the climax of its power and splendour. It was then that the +plague of Boccaccio began to rage, which swept off 80,000 citizens, +and interrupted the building of the great Duomo. In the midst of so +large a family, and during these troubled times, Catherine grew +almost unnoticed; but it was not long before she manifested her +peculiar disposition. At six years old she already saw visions and +longed for a monastic life: about the same time she used to collect +her childish companions together and preach to them. As she grew, +her wishes became stronger; she refused the proposals which her +parents made that she should marry, and so vexed them by her +obstinacy that they imposed on her the most servile duties in their +household. These she patiently fulfilled, pursuing at the same time +her own vocation with unwearied ardour. She scarcely slept at all, +and ate no food but vegetables and a little bread, scourged +herself, wore sackcloth, and became emaciated, weak, and half +delirious. At length the firmness of her character and the force of +her hallucinations won the day. Her parents consented to her +assuming the Dominican robe, and at the age of thirteen she entered +the monastic life. From this moment till her death we see in her +the ecstatic, the philanthropist, and the politician combined to a +remarkable degree. For three whole years she never left her cell +except to go to church, maintaining an almost unbroken silence. Yet +when she returned to the world, convinced at last of having won by +prayer and pain the favour of her Lord, it was to preach to +infuriated mobs, to toil among men dying of the plague, to execute +diplomatic negotiations, to harangue the republic of Florence, to +correspond with queens, and to interpose between kings and popes. +In the midst of this varied and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg051" id="pg051">51</a></span> distracting career she continued +to see visions and to fast and scourge herself. The domestic +virtues and the personal wants and wishes of a woman were +annihilated in her: she lived for the Church, for the poor, and for +Christ, whom she imagined to be constantly supporting her. At +length she died, worn out by inward conflicts, by the tension of +religious ecstasy, by want of food and sleep, and by the excitement +of political life. To follow her in her public career is not my +purpose. It is well known how, by the power of her eloquence and +the ardour of her piety, she succeeded as a mediator between +Florence and her native city, and between Florence and the Pope; +that she travelled to Avignon, and there induced Gregory XI. to put +an end to the Babylonian captivity of the Church by returning to +Rome; that she narrowly escaped political martyrdom during one of +her embassies from Gregory to the Florentine republic; that she +preached a crusade against the Turks; that her last days were +clouded with sorrow for the schism which then rent the Papacy; and +that she aided by her dying words to keep Pope Urban on the Papal +throne. When we consider her private and spiritual life more +narrowly, it may well move our amazement to think that the +intricate politics of Central Italy, the counsels of licentious +princes and ambitious Popes, were in any measure guided and +controlled by such a woman. Alone, and aided by nothing but a +reputation for sanctity, she dared to tell the greatest men in +Europe of their faults; she wrote in words of well-assured command, +and they, demoralised, worldly, sceptical, or indifferent as they +might be, were yet so bound by superstition that they could not +treat with scorn the voice of an enthusiastic girl.</p> + +<p>Absolute disinterestedness, the belief in her own spiritual +mission, natural genius, and that vast power which then belonged to +all energetic members of the monastic orders, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg052" id="pg052">52</a></span> enabled her to +play this part. She had no advantages to begin with. The daughter +of a tradesman overwhelmed with an almost fabulously numerous +progeny, Catherine grew up uneducated. When her genius had attained +maturity, she could not even read or write. Her biographer asserts +that she learned to do so by a miracle. Anyhow, writing became a +most potent instrument in her hands; and we possess several volumes +of her epistles, as well as a treatise of mystical theology. To +conquer self-love as the root of all evil, and to live wholly for +others, was the cardinal axiom of her morality. She pressed this +principle to its most rigorous conclusions in practice; never +resting day or night from some kind of service, and winning by her +unselfish love the enthusiastic admiration of the people. In the +same spirit of exalted self-annihilation, she longed for martyrdom, +and courted death. There was not the smallest personal tie or +afterthought of interest to restrain her in the course of action +which she had marked out. Her personal influence seems to have been +immense. When she began her career of public peacemaker and +preacher in Siena, Raymond, her biographer, says that whole +families devoted to <i>vendetta</i> were reconciled, and that civil +strifes were quelled by her letters and addresses. He had seen more +than a thousand people flock to hear her speak; the confessionals +crowded with penitents, smitten by the force of her appeals; and +multitudes, unable to catch the words which fell from her lips, +sustained and animated by the light of holiness which beamed from +her inspired countenance.<a name="FNanchor_1_8" id= +"FNanchor_1_8" /><a href="#Footnote_1_8" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> She was not beautiful, but her face so shone +with love, and her eloquence was so pathetic in its tenderness, +that none could hear or look on her without emotion. Her writings +contain <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg053" id= +"pg053">53</a></span> abundant proofs of this peculiar suavity. +They are too sweet and unctuous in style to suit our modern taste. +When dwelling on the mystic love of Christ she cries, 'O blood! O +fire! O ineffable love!' When interceding before the Pope, she +prays for 'Pace, pace, pace, babbo mio dolce; pace, e non +più guerra.' Yet clear and simple thoughts, profound +convictions, and stern moral teaching underlie her ecstatic +exclamations. One prayer which she wrote, and which the people of +Siena still use, expresses the prevailing spirit of her creed: 'O +Spirito Santo, o Deità eterna Cristo Amore! vieni nel mio +cuore; per la tua potenza trailo a Te, mio Dio, e concedemi +carità con timore. Liberami, o Amore ineffabile, da ogni mal +pensiero; riscaldami ed infiammami del tuo dolcissimo amore, +sicchè ogni pena mi sembri leggiera. Santo mio Padre e dolce +mio Signore, ora aiutami in ogni mio ministero. Cristo amore. +Cristo amore.' The reiteration of the word 'love' is most +significant. It was the key-note of her whole theology, the +mainspring of her life. In no merely figurative sense did she +regard herself as the spouse of Christ, but dwelt upon the bliss, +beyond all mortal happiness, which she enjoyed in supersensual +communion with her Lord. It is easy to understand how such ideas +might be, and have been, corrupted, when impressed on natures no +less susceptible, but weaker and less gifted than S. +Catherine's.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The part +played in Italy by preachers of repentance and peace is among the +most characteristic features of Italian history. On this subject +see the Appendix to my 'Age of the Despots,' <i>Renaissance in +Italy</i>, Part I.</p> +</div> + +<p>One incident related by Catherine in a letter to Raymond, her +confessor and biographer, exhibits the peculiar character of her +influence in the most striking light. Nicola Tuldo, a citizen of +Perugia, had been condemned to death for treason in the flower of +his age. So terribly did the man rebel against his sentence, that +he cursed God, and refused the consolations of religion. Priests +visited him in vain; his heart was shut and sealed by the despair +of leaving life in all <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg054" id= +"pg054">54</a></span> the vigour of its prime. Then Catherine came +and spoke to him: 'whence,' she says, 'he received such comfort +that he confessed, and made me promise, by the love of God, to +stand at the block beside him on the day of his execution.' By a +few words, by the tenderness of her manner, and by the charm which +women have, she had already touched the heart no priest could +soften, and no threat of death or judgment terrify into contrition. +Nor was this strange. In our own days we have seen men open the +secrets of their hearts to women, after repelling the advances of +less touching sympathy. Youths, cold and cynical enough among their +brethren, have stood subdued like little children before her who +spoke to them of love and faith and penitence and hope. The world +has not lost its ladies of the race of S. Catherine, beautiful and +pure and holy, who have suffered and sought peace with tears, and +who have been appointed ministers of mercy for the worst and +hardest of their fellow-men. Such saints possess an efficacy even +in the imposition of their hands; many a devotee, like Tuldo, would +more willingly greet death if his S. Catherine were by to smile and +lay her hands upon his head, and cry, 'Go forth, my servant, and +fear not!' The chivalrous admiration for women mixes with religious +awe to form the reverence which these saints inspire. Human and +heavenly love, chaste and ecstatic, constitute the secret of their +power. Catherine then subdued the spirit of Tuldo and led him to +the altar, where he received the communion for the first time in +his life. His only remaining fear was that he might not have +strength to face death bravely. Therefore he prayed Catherine, +'Stay with me, do not leave me; so it shall be well with me, and I +shall die contented;' 'and,' says the saint, 'he laid his head in +the prison on my breast, and I said, "Comfort thee, my brother, the +block shall soon become thy marriage altar, the blood of Christ +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg055" id="pg055">55</a></span> +shall bathe thy sins away, and I will stand beside thee."' When the +hour came, she went and waited for him by the scaffold, meditating +on Madonna and Catherine the saint of Alexandria. She laid her own +neck on the block, and tried to picture to herself the pains and +ecstasies of martyrdom. In her deep thought, time and place became +annihilated; she forgot the eager crowd, and only prayed for +Tuldo's soul and for herself. At length he came, walking 'like a +gentle lamb,' and Catherine received him with the salutation of +'sweet brother.' She placed his head upon the block, and laid her +hands upon him, and told him of the Lamb of God. The last words he +uttered were the names of Jesus and of Catherine. Then the axe +fell, and Catherine beheld his soul borne by angels into the +regions of eternal love. When she recovered from her trance, she +held his head within her hands; her dress was saturated with his +blood, which she could scarcely bear to wash away, so deeply did +she triumph in the death of him whom she had saved. The words of S. +Catherine herself deserve to be read. The simplicity, freedom from +self-consciousness, and fervent faith in the reality of all she did +and said and saw, which they exhibit, convince us of her entire +sincerity.</p> + +<p>The supernatural element in the life of S. Catherine may be +explained partly by the mythologising adoration of the people ready +to find a miracle in every act of her they worshipped—partly +by her own temperament and modes of life, which inclined her to +ecstasy and fostered the faculty of seeing visions—partly by +a pious misconception of the words of Christ and Bible +phraseology.</p> + +<p>To the first kind belong the wonders which are related of her +early years, the story of the candle which burnt her veil without +injuring her person, and the miracles performed by her body after +death. Many childish incidents were <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg056" id="pg056">56</a></span> treasured up which, had her life +proved different, would have been forgotten, or have found their +proper place among the catalogue of common things. Thus on one +occasion, after hearing of the hermits of the Thebaïd, she +took it into her head to retire into the wilderness, and chose for +her dwelling one of the caverns in the sandstone rock which abound +in Siena near the quarter where her father lived. We merely see in +this event a sign of her monastic disposition, and a more than +usual aptitude for realising the ideas presented to her mind. But +the old biographers relate how one celestial vision urged the +childish hermit to forsake the world, and another bade her return +to the duties of her home.</p> + +<p>To the second kind we may refer the frequent communings with +Christ and with the fathers of the Church, together with the other +visions to which she frequently laid claim: nor must we omit the +stigmata which she believed she had received from Christ. Catherine +was constitutionally inclined to hallucinations. At the age of six, +before it was probable that a child should have laid claim to +spiritual gifts which she did not possess, she burst into loud +weeping because her little brother rudely distracted her attention +from the brilliant forms of saints and angels which she traced +among the clouds. Almost all children of a vivid imagination are +apt to transfer the objects of their fancy to the world without +them. Goethe walked for hours in his enchanted gardens as a boy, +and Alfieri tells us how he saw a company of angels in the +choristers at Asti. Nor did S. Catherine omit any means of +cultivating this faculty, and of preventing her splendid visions +from fading away, as they almost always do, beneath the discipline +of intellectual education and among the distractions of daily life. +Believing simply in their heavenly origin, and receiving no secular +training whatsoever, she walked surrounded by a spiritual world, +environed, as her legend says, by angels. Her <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg057" id="pg057">57</a></span> habits were +calculated to foster this disposition: it is related that she took +but little sleep, scarcely more than two hours at night, and that +too on the bare ground; she ate nothing but vegetables and the +sacred wafer of the host, entirely abjuring the use of wine and +meat. This diet, combined with frequent fasts and severe ascetic +discipline, depressed her physical forces, and her nervous system +was thrown into a state of the highest exaltation. Thoughts became +things, and ideas were projected from her vivid fancy upon the +empty air around her. It was therefore no wonder that, after +spending long hours in vigils and meditating always on the thought +of Christ, she should have seemed to take the sacrament from His +hands, to pace the chapel in communion with Him, to meet Him in the +form of priest and beggar, to hear Him speaking to her as a friend. +Once when the anguish of sin had plagued her with disturbing +dreams, Christ came and gave her His own heart in exchange for +hers. When lost in admiration before the cross at Pisa, she saw His +five wounds stream with blood—five crimson rays smote her, +passed into her soul, and left their marks upon her hands and feet +and side. The light of Christ's glory shone round about her, she +partook of His martyrdom, and awaking from her trance she cried to +Raymond, 'Behold! I bear in my body the marks of the Lord +Jesus!'</p> + +<p>This miracle had happened to S. Francis. It was regarded as the +sign of fellowship with Christ, of worthiness to drink His cup, and +to be baptised with His baptism. We find the same idea at least in +the old Latin hymns:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i11">Fac me plagis vulnerari—</div> + +<div class="i11">Cruce hac inebriari—</div> + +<div class="i11">Fac ut portem Christi mortem,</div> + +<div class="i11">Passionis fac consortem,</div> + +<div class="i11">Et plagas recolere.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg058" id="pg058">58</a></span> +These are words from the 'Stabat Mater;' nor did S. Francis and S. +Catherine do more than carry into the vividness of actual +hallucination what had been the poetic rapture of many less +ecstatic, but not less ardent, souls. They desired to be +<i>literally</i> 'crucified with Christ;' they were not satisfied +with metaphor or sentiment, and it seemed to them that their Lord +had really vouchsafed to them the yearning of their heart. We need +not here raise the question whether the stigmata had ever been +actually self-inflicted by delirious saint or hermit: it was not +pretended that the wounds of S. Catherine were visible during her +lifetime. After her death the faithful thought that they had seen +them on her corpse, and they actually appeared in the relics of her +hands and feet. The pious fraud, if fraud there must have been, +should be ascribed, not to the saint herself, but to devotees and +relic-mongers.<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The order of S. +Dominic would not be behind that of S. Francis. If the latter +boasted of their stigmata, the former would be ready to perforate +the hand or foot of their dead saint. Thus the ecstasies of genius +or devotion are brought to earth, and rendered vulgar by mistaken +piety and the rivalry of sects. The people put the most material +construction on all tropes and metaphors: above the door of S. +Catherine's chapel at Siena, for example, it is written—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Hæc tenet ara caput Catharinæ; corda +requiris?</div> + +<div class="i2">Hæc imo Christus pectore clausa tenet.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The frequent conversations which she held with S. Dominic and +other patrons of the Church, and her supernatural marriage, must be +referred to the same category. Strong faith, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg059" id="pg059">59</a></span> and constant +familiarity with one order of ideas, joined with a creative power +of fancy, and fostered by physical debility, produced these +miraculous colloquies. Early in her career, her injured +constitution, resenting the violence with which it had been forced +to serve the ardours of her piety, troubled her with foul phantoms, +haunting images of sin and seductive whisperings, which clearly +revealed a morbid condition of the nervous system. She was on the +verge of insanity. The reality of her inspiration and her genius +are proved by the force with which her human sympathies, and moral +dignity, and intellectual vigour triumphed over these diseased +hallucinations of the cloister, and converted them into the +instruments for effecting patriotic and philanthropic designs. +There was nothing savouring of mean pretension or imposture in her +claim to supernatural enlightenment. Whatever we may think of the +wisdom of her public policy with regard to the Crusades and to the +Papal Sovereignty, it is impossible to deny that a holy and high +object possessed her from the earliest to the latest of her +life—that she lived for ideas greater than +self-aggrandisement or the saving of her soul, for the greatest, +perhaps, which her age presented to an earnest Catholic.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It is +not impossible that the stigmata may have been naturally produced +in the person of S. Francis or S. Catherine. There are cases on +record in which grave nervous disturbances have resulted in such +modifications of the flesh as may have left the traces of wounds in +scars and blisters.</p> +</div> + +<p>The abuses to which the indulgence of temperaments like that of +S. Catherine must in many cases have given rise, are obvious. +Hysterical women and half-witted men, without possessing her +abilities and understanding her objects, beheld unmeaning visions, +and dreamed childish dreams. Others won the reputation of sanctity +by obstinate neglect of all the duties of life and of all the +decencies of personal cleanliness. Every little town in Italy could +show its saints like the Santa Fina of whom San Gemignano +boasts—a girl who lay for seven years on a back-board till +her mortified flesh clung to the wood; or the San Bartolo, who, for +hideous leprosy, received <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg060" id= +"pg060">60</a></span> the title of the Job of Tuscany. Children +were encouraged in blasphemous pretensions to the special power of +Heaven, and the nerves of weak women were shaken by revelations in +which they only half believed. We have ample evidence to prove how +the trade of miracles is still carried on, and how in the France of +our days, when intellectual vigour has been separated from old +forms of faith, such vision-mongering undermines morality, +encourages ignorance, and saps the force of individuals. But S. +Catherine must not be confounded with those sickly shams and +make-believes. Her enthusiasms were real; they were proper to her +age; they inspired her with unrivalled self-devotion and unwearied +energy; they connected her with the political and social movements +of her country.</p> + +<p>Many of the supernatural events in S. Catherine's life were +founded on a too literal acceptation of biblical metaphors. The +Canticles, perhaps, inspired her with the belief in a mystical +marriage. An enigmatical sentence of S. Paul's suggested the +stigmata. When the saint bestowed her garment upon Christ in the +form of a beggar and gave Him the silver cross of her rosary, she +was but realising His own words: 'Inasmuch as ye shall do it unto +the least of these little ones, ye shall do it unto Me.' Charity, +according to her conception, consisted in giving to Christ. He had +first taught this duty; He would make it the test of all duty at +the last day. Catherine was charitable for the love of Christ. She +thought less of the beggar than of her Lord. How could she do +otherwise than see the aureole about His forehead, and hear the +voice of Him who had declared, 'Behold, I am with you, even to the +end of the world.' Those were times of childlike simplicity when +the eye of love was still unclouded, when men could see beyond the +phantoms of this world, and stripping off the accidents of matter, +gaze upon the spiritual and eternal truths <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg061" id="pg061">61</a></span> that lie beneath. Heaven lay +around them in that infancy of faith; nor did they greatly differ +from the saints and founders of the Church—from Paul, who saw +the vision of the Lord, or Magdalen, who cried, 'He is risen!' An +age accustomed to veil thought in symbols, easily reversed the +process and discerned essential qualities beneath the common or +indifferent objects of the outer world. It was therefore Christ +whom S. Christopher carried in the shape of a child; Christ whom +Fra Angelico's Dominicans received in pilgrim's garb at their +convent gate; Christ with whom, under a leper's loathsome form, the +flower of Spanish chivalry was said to have shared his couch.</p> + +<p>In all her miracles it will be noticed that S. Catherine showed +no originality. Her namesake of Alexandria had already been +proclaimed the spouse of Christ. S. Francis had already received +the stigmata; her other visions were such as had been granted to +all fervent mystics; they were the growth of current religious +ideas and unbounded faith. It is not as an innovator in religious +ecstasy, or as the creator of a new kind of spiritual poetry, that +we admire S. Catherine. Her inner life was simply the foundation of +her character, her visions were a source of strength to her in +times of trial, or the expression of a more than usually exalted +mood; but the means by which she moved the hearts of men belonged +to that which she possessed in common with all leaders of +mankind—enthusiasm, eloquence, the charm of a gracious +nature, and the will to do what she designed. She founded no +religious order, like S. Francis or S. Dominic, her predecessors, +or Loyola, her successor. Her work was a woman's work—to make +peace, to succour the afflicted, to strengthen the Church, to +purify the hearts of those around her; not to rule or organise. +When she died she left behind her a memory of love more than of +power, the fragrance of an unselfish and <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg062" id="pg062">62</a></span> gentle life, the echo of +sweet and earnest words. Her place is in the heart of the humble; +children belong to her sisterhood, and the poor crowd her shrine on +festivals.</p> + +<p>Catherine died at Rome on the 29th of April 1380, in her +thirty-third year, surrounded by the most faithful of her friends +and followers; but it was not until 1461 that she received the last +honour of canonisation from the hands of Pius II., Æneas +Sylvius, her countryman. Æeneas Sylvius Piccolomini was +perhaps the most remarkable man that Siena has produced. Like S. +Catherine, he was one of a large family; twenty of his brothers and +sisters perished in a plague. The licentiousness of his early life, +the astuteness of his intellect, and the worldliness of his aims, +contrast with the singularly disinterested character of the saint +on whom he conferred the highest honours of the Church. But he +accomplished by diplomacy and skill what Catherine had begun. If +she was instrumental in restoring the Popes to Rome, he ended the +schism which had clouded her last days. She had preached a crusade; +he lived to assemble the armies of Christendom against the Turks, +and died at Ancona, while it was still uncertain whether the +authority and enthusiasm of a pope could steady the wavering +counsels and vacillating wills of kings and princes. The middle +ages were still vital in S. Catherine; Pius II. belonged by taste +and genius to the new period of Renaissance. The hundreds of the +poorer Sienese who kneel before S. Catherine's shrine prove that +her memory is still alive in the hearts of her fellow-citizens; +while the gorgeous library of the cathedral, painted by the hand of +Pinturicchio, the sumptuous palace and the Loggia del Papa designed +by Bernardo Rossellino and Antonio Federighi, record the pride and +splendour of the greatest of the Piccolomini. But honourable as it +was for Pius to fill so high a place in the annals of his city; to +have left it as a poor adventurer, to return to it first as bishop, +then <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg063" id="pg063">63</a></span> +as pope: to have a chamber in its mother church adorned with the +pictured history of his achievements for a monument, and a triumph +of Renaissance architecture dedicated to his family, <i>gentilibus +suis</i>—yet we cannot but feel that the better part remains +with S. Catherine, whose prayer is still whispered by children on +their mother's knee, and whose relics are kissed daily by the +simple and devout.</p> + +<p>Some of the chief Italian painters have represented the +incidents of S. Catherine's life and of her mystical experience. +All the pathos and beauty which we admire in Sodoma's S. Sebastian +at Florence, are surpassed by his fresco of S. Catherine receiving +the stigmata. This is one of several subjects painted by him on the +walls of her chapel in San Domenico. The tender unction, the +sweetness, the languor, and the grace which he commanded with such +admirable mastery, are all combined in the figure of the saint +falling exhausted into the arms of her attendant nuns. Soft +undulating lines rule the composition; yet dignity of attitude and +feature prevails over mere loveliness. Another of Siena's greatest +masters, Beccafumi, has treated the same subject with less +pictorial skill and dramatic effect, but with an earnestness and +simplicity that are very touching. Colourists always liked to +introduce the sweeping lines of her white robes into their +compositions. Fra Bartolommeo, who showed consummate art by +tempering the masses of white drapery with mellow tones of brown or +amber, painted one splendid picture of the marriage of S. +Catherine, and another in which he represents her prostrate in +adoration before the mystery of the Trinity. His gentle and devout +soul sympathised with the spirit of the saint. The fervour of her +devotion belonged to him more truly than the leonine power which he +unsuccessfully attempted to express in his large figure of S. Mark. +Other artists have painted the two Catherines <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg064" id="pg064">64</a></span> +together—the princess of Alexandria, crowned and robed in +purple, bearing her palm of martyrdom, beside the nun of Siena, +holding in her hand the lantern with which she went about by night +among the sick. Ambrogio Borgognone makes them stand one on each +side of Madonna's throne, while the infant Christ upon her lap +extends His hands to both, in token of their marriage.</p> + +<p>The traditional type of countenance which may be traced in all +these pictures is not without a real foundation. Not only does +there exist at Siena, in the Church of San Domenico, a contemporary +portrait of S. Catherine, but her head also, which was embalmed +immediately after death, is still preserved. The skin of the face +is fair and white, like parchment, and the features have more the +air of sleep than death. We find in them the breadth and squareness +of general outline, and the long, even eyebrows which give peculiar +calm to the expression of her pictures. This relic is shown +publicly once a year on the 6th of May. That is the Festa of the +saint, when a procession of priests and acolytes, and pious people +holding tapers, and little girls dressed out in white, carry a +splendid silver image of their patroness about the city. Banners +and crosses and censers go in front; then follows the shrine +beneath a canopy: roses and leaves of box are scattered on the +path. The whole Contrada d'Oca is decked out with such finery as +the people can muster: red cloths hung from the windows, branches +and garlands strewn about the doorsteps, with brackets for torches +on the walls, and altars erected in the middle of the street. +Troops of country-folk and townspeople and priests go in and out to +visit the cell of S. Catherine; the upper and the lower chapel, +built upon its site, and the hall of the +<i>confraternità</i> blaze with lighted tapers. The +faithful, full of wonder, kneel or stand about the 'santi luoghi,' +marvelling at the relics, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg065" +id="pg065">65</a></span> repeating to one another the miracles of +the saint. The same bustle pervades the Church of San Domenico. +Masses are being said at one or other chapel all the morning, while +women in their flapping Tuscan hats crowd round the silver image of +S. Catherine, and say their prayers with a continual undercurrent +of responses to the nasal voice of priest or choir. Others gain +entrance to the chapel of the saint, and kneel before her altar. +There, in the blaze of sunlight and of tapers, far away behind the +gloss and gilding of a tawdry shrine, is seen the pale, white face +which spoke and suffered so much, years ago. The contrast of its +rigid stillness and half-concealed corruption with the noise and +life and light outside is very touching. Even so the remnant of a +dead idea still stirs the souls of thousands, and many ages may +roll by before time and oblivion assert their inevitable sway.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg066" id= +"pg066">66</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="OLIVETO" id="OLIVETO" /><i>MONTE OLIVETO</i></h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>In former days the traveller had choice of two old hostelries in +the chief street of Siena. Here, if he was fortunate, he might +secure a prophet's chamber, with a view across tiled houseroofs to +the distant Tuscan champaign—glimpses of russet field and +olive-garden framed by jutting city walls, which in some measure +compensated for much discomfort. He now betakes himself to the more +modern Albergo di Siena, overlooking the public promenade La Lizza. +Horse-chestnuts and acacias make a pleasant foreground to a +prospect of considerable extent. The front of the house is turned +toward Belcaro and the mountains between Grosseto and Volterra. +Sideways its windows command the brown bulk of San Domenico, and +the Duomo, set like a marble coronet upon the forehead of the town. +When we arrived there one October afternoon the sun was setting +amid flying clouds and watery yellow spaces of pure sky, with a +wind blowing soft and humid from the sea. Long after he had sunk +below the hills, a fading chord of golden and rose-coloured tints +burned on the city. The cathedral bell tower was glistening with +recent rain, and we could see right through its lancet windows to +the clear blue heavens beyond. Then, as the day descended into +evening, the autumn trees assumed that wonderful effect of +luminousness self-evolved, <a name="pg067" id="pg067"></a><span +class="pagenum">67</span> and the red brick walls that crimson +afterglow, which Tuscan twilight takes from singular transparency +of atmosphere.</p> + +<p>It is hardly possible to define the specific character of each +Italian city, assigning its proper share to natural circumstances, +to the temper of the population, and to the monuments of art in +which these elements of nature and of human qualities are blended. +The fusion is too delicate and subtle for complete analysis; and +the total effect in each particular case may best be compared to +that impressed on us by a strong personality, making itself felt in +the minutest details. Climate, situation, ethnological conditions, +the political vicissitudes of past ages, the bias of the people to +certain industries and occupations, the emergence of distinguished +men at critical epochs, have all contributed their quota to the +composition of an individuality which abides long after the +locality has lost its ancient vigour.</p> + +<p>Since the year 1557, when Gian Giacomo de' Medici laid the +country of Siena waste, levelled her luxurious suburbs, and +delivered her famine-stricken citizens to the tyranny of the Grand +Duke Cosimo, this town has gone on dreaming in suspended decadence. +Yet the epithet which was given to her in her days of glory, the +title of 'Fair Soft Siena,' still describes the city. She claims it +by right of the gentle manners, joyous but sedate, of her +inhabitants, by the grace of their pure Tuscan speech, and by the +unique delicacy of her architecture. Those palaces of brick, with +finely moulded lancet windows, and the lovely use of sculptured +marbles in pilastered colonnades, are fit abodes for the nobles who +reared them five centuries ago, of whose refined and costly living +we read in the pages of Dante or of Folgore da San Gemignano. And +though the necessities of modern life, the decay of wealth, the +dwindling of old aristocracy, and the absorption of what was once +an independent state in the Italian nation, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg068" id="pg068">68</a></span> have obliterated +that large signorial splendour of the Middle Ages, we feel that the +modern Sienese are not unworthy of their courteous ancestry.</p> + +<p>Superficially, much of the present charm of Siena consists in +the soft opening valleys, the glimpses of long blue hills and +fertile country-side, framed by irregular brown houses stretching +along the slopes on which the town is built, and losing themselves +abruptly in olive fields and orchards. This element of beauty, +which brings the city into immediate relation with the country, is +indeed not peculiar to Siena. We find it in Perugia, in Assisi, in +Montepulciano, in nearly all the hill towns of Umbria and Tuscany. +But their landscape is often tragic and austere, while this is +always suave. City and country blend here in delightful amity. +Neither yields that sense of aloofness which stirs melancholy.</p> + +<p>The most charming district in the immediate neighbourhood of +Siena lies westward, near Belcaro, a villa high up on a hill. It is +a region of deep lanes and golden-green oak-woods, with cypresses +and stone-pines, and little streams in all directions flowing over +the brown sandstone. The country is like some parts of rural +England—Devonshire or Sussex. Not only is the sandstone here, +as there, broken into deep gullies; but the vegetation is much the +same. Tufted spleenwort, primroses, and broom tangle the hedges +under boughs of hornbeam and sweet-chestnut. This is the landscape +which the two sixteenth-century novelists of Siena, Fortini and +Sermini, so lovingly depicted in their tales. Of literature +absorbing in itself the specific character of a country, and +conveying it to the reader less by description than by sustained +quality of style, I know none to surpass Fortini's sketches. The +prospect from Belcaro is one of the finest to be seen in Tuscany. +The villa stands at a considerable elevation, and commands an +immense extent of hill and dale. <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg069" id="pg069">69</a></span> Nowhere, except Maremma-wards, a +level plain. The Tuscan mountains, from Monte Amiata westward to +Volterra, round Valdelsa, down to Montepulciano and Radicofani, +with their innumerable windings and intricacies of descending +valleys, are dappled with light and shade from flying storm-clouds, +sunshine here, and there cloud-shadows. Girdling the villa stands a +grove of ilex-trees, cut so as to embrace its high-built walls with +dark continuous green. In the courtyard are lemon-trees and +pomegranates laden with fruit. From a terrace on the roof the whole +wide view is seen; and here upon a parapet, from which we leaned +one autumn afternoon, my friend discovered this <i>graffito</i>: +'<i>E vidi e piansi il fato amaro!</i>'—'I gazed, and gazing, +wept the bitterness of fate.'</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The prevailing note of Siena and the Sienese seems, as I have +said, to be a soft and tranquil grace; yet this people had one of +the stormiest and maddest of Italian histories. They were +passionate in love and hate, vehement in their popular amusements, +almost frantic in their political conduct of affairs. The luxury, +for which Dante blamed them, the levity De Comines noticed in their +government, found counter-poise in more than usual piety and +fervour. S. Bernardino, the great preacher and peacemaker of the +Middle Ages; S. Catherine, the worthiest of all women to be +canonised; the blessed Colombini, who founded the Order of the +Gesuati or Brothers of the Poor in Christ; the blessed Bernardo, +who founded that of Monte Oliveto; were all Sienese. Few cities +have given four such saints to modern Christendom. The biography of +one of these may serve as prelude to an account of the Sienese +monastery of Oliveto Maggiore.</p> + +<p>The family of Tolomei was among the noblest of the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg070" id="pg070">70</a></span> Sienese +aristocracy. On May 10, 1272, Mino Tolomei and his wife Fulvia, of +the Tancredi, had a son whom they christened Giovanni, but who, +when he entered the religious life, assumed the name of Bernard, in +memory of the great Abbot of Clairvaux. Of this child, Fulvia is +said to have dreamed, long before his birth, that he assumed the +form of a white swan, and sang melodiously, and settled in the +boughs of an olive-tree, whence afterwards he winged his way to +heaven amid a flock of swans as dazzling white as he. The boy was +educated in the Dominican Cloister at Siena, under the care of his +uncle Cristoforo Tolomei. There, and afterwards in the fraternity +of S. Ansano, he felt that impulse towards a life of piety, which +after a short but brilliant episode of secular ambition, was +destined to return with overwhelming force upon his nature. He was +a youth of promise, and at the age of sixteen he obtained the +doctorate in philosophy and both laws, civil and canonical. The +Tolomei upon this occasion adorned their palaces and threw them +open to the people of Siena. The Republic hailed with acclamation +the early honours of a noble, born to be one of their chief +leaders. Soon after this event Mino obtained for his son from the +Emperor the title of Cæsarian Knight; and when the diploma +arrived, new festivities proclaimed the fortunate youth to his +fellow-citizens. Bernardo cased his limbs in steel, and rode in +procession with ladies and young nobles through the streets. The +ceremonies of a knight's reception in Siena at that period were +magnificent. From contemporary chronicles and from the sonnets +written by Folgore da San Gemignano for a similar occasion, we +gather that the whole resources of a wealthy family and all their +friends were strained to the utmost to do honour to the order of +chivalry. Open house was held for several days. Rich presents of +jewels, armour, dresses, chargers were freely <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg071" id="pg071">71</a></span> distributed. +Tournaments alternated with dances. But the climax of the pageant +was the novice's investiture with sword and spurs and belt in the +cathedral. This, as it appears from a record of the year 1326, +actually took place in the great marble pulpit carved by the +Pisani; and the most illustrious knights of his acquaintance were +summoned by the squire to act as sponsors for his fealty.</p> + +<p>It is said that young Bernardo Tolomei's head was turned to +vanity by these honours showered upon him in his earliest manhood. +Yet, after a short period of aberration, he rejoined his +confraternity and mortified his flesh by discipline and strict +attendance on the poor. The time had come, however, when he should +choose a career suitable to his high rank. He devoted himself to +jurisprudence, and began to lecture publicly on law. Already at the +age of twenty-five his fellow-citizens admitted him to the highest +political offices, and in the legend of his life it is written, not +without exaggeration doubtless, that he ruled the State. There is, +however, no reason to suppose that he did not play an important +part in its government. Though a just and virtuous statesman, +Bernardo now forgot the special service of God, and gave himself +with heart and soul to mundane interests. At the age of forty, +supported by the wealth, alliances, and reputation of his +semi-princely house, he had become one of the most considerable +party-leaders in that age of faction. If we may trust his monastic +biographer, he was aiming at nothing less than the tyranny of +Siena. But in that year, when he was forty, a change, which can +only be described as conversion, came over him. He had advertised a +public disputation, in which he proposed before all comers to solve +the most arduous problems of scholastic science. The concourse was +great, the assembly brilliant; but the hero of the day, who had +designed it for his glory, was stricken with sudden blindness. In +one <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg072" id="pg072">72</a></span> +moment he comprehended the internal void he had created for his +soul, and the blindness of the body was illumination to the spirit. +The pride, power, and splendour of this world seemed to him a smoke +that passes. God, penitence, eternity appeared in all the awful +clarity of an authentic vision. He fell upon his knees and prayed +to Mary that he might receive his sight again. This boon was +granted; but the revelation which had come to him in blindness was +not withdrawn. Meanwhile the hall of disputation was crowded with +an expectant audience. Bernardo rose from his knees, made his +entry, and ascended the chair; but instead of the scholastic +subtleties he had designed to treat, he pronounced the old text, +'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'</p> + +<p>Afterwards, attended by two noble comrades, Patrizio Patrizzi +and Ambrogio Piccolomini, he went forth into the wilderness. For +the human soul, at strife with strange experience, betakes itself +instinctively to solitude. Not only prophets of Israel, saints of +the Thebaïd, and founders of religions in the mystic East have +done so; even the Greek Menander recognised, although he sneered +at, the phenomenon. 'The desert, they say, is the place for +discoveries.' For the mediæval mind it had peculiar +attractions. The wilderness these comrades chose was Accona, a +doleful place, hemmed in with earthen precipices, some fifteen +miles to the south of Siena. Of his vast possessions Bernardo +retained but this—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i11">The lonesome lodge,</div> + +<div class="i5">That stood so low in a lonely glen.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The rest of his substance he abandoned to the poor. This was in +1313, the very year of the Emperor Henry VII.'s death at +Buonconvento, which is a little walled town between Siena and the +desert of Accona. Whether Bernardo's retirement was in any way due +to the extinction of immediate hope <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg073" id="pg073">73</a></span> for the Ghibelline party by this +event, we do not gather from his legend. That, as is natural, +refers his action wholly to the operation of divine grace. Yet we +may remember how a more illustrious refugee, the singer of the +'Divine Comedy,' betook himself upon the same occasion to the +lonely convent of Fonte Avellana on the Alps of Catria, and +meditated there the cantos of his Purgatory. While Bernardo Tolomei +was founding the Order of Monte Oliveto, Dante penned his letter to +the cardinals of Italy: <i>Quomodo sola sedet civitas plena populo: +facta est quasi vidua domina gentium</i>.</p> + +<p>Bernardo and his friends hollowed with their own hands grottos +in the rock, and strewed their stone beds with withered +chestnut-leaves. For S. Scolastica, the sister of S. Benedict, they +built a little chapel. Their food was wild fruit, and their drink +the water of the brook. Through the day they delved, for it was in +their mind to turn the wilderness into a land of plenty. By night +they meditated on eternal truth. The contrast between their rude +life and the delicate nurture of Sienese nobles, in an age when +Siena had become a by-word for luxury, must have been cruel. But it +fascinated the mediæval imagination, and the three anchorites +were speedily joined by recruits of a like temper. As yet the +new-born order had no rules; for Bernardo, when he renounced the +world, embraced humility. The brethren were bound together only by +the ties of charity. They lived in common; and under their +sustained efforts Accona soon became a garden.</p> + +<p>The society could not, however, hold together without further +organisation. It began to be ill spoken of, inasmuch as vulgar +minds can recognise no good except in what is formed upon a pattern +they are familiar with. Then Bernardo had a vision. In his sleep he +saw a ladder of light ascending to the heavens. Above sat Jesus +with Our Lady in white <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg074" id= +"pg074">74</a></span> raiment, and the celestial hierarchies around +them were attired in white. Up the ladder, led by angels, climbed +men in vesture of dazzling white; and among these Bernardo +recognised his own companions. Soon after this dream, he called +Ambrogio Piccolomini, and bade him get ready for a journey to the +Pope at Avignon.</p> + +<p>John XXII. received the pilgrims graciously, and gave them +letters to the Bishop of Arezzo, commanding him to furnish the new +brotherhood with one of the rules authorised by Holy Church for +governance of a monastic order. Guido Tarlati, of the great +Pietra-mala house, was Bishop and despot of Arezzo at this epoch. A +man less in harmony with coenobitical enthusiasm than this warrior +prelate, could scarcely have been found. Yet attendance to such +matters formed part of his business, and the legend even credits +him with an inspired dream; for Our Lady appeared to him, and said: +'I love the valley of Accona and its pious solitaries. Give them +the rule of Benedict. But thou shalt strip them of their mourning +weeds, and clothe them in white raiment, the symbol of my virgin +purity. Their hermitage shall change its name, and henceforth shall +be called Mount Olivet, in memory of the ascension of my divine +Son, the which took place upon the Mount of Olives. I take this +family beneath my own protection; and therefore it is my will it +should be called henceforth the congregation of S. Mary of Mount +Olivet.' After this, the Blessed Virgin took forethought for the +heraldic designs of her monks, dictating to Guido Tarlati the +blazon they still bear; it is of three hills or, whereof the third +and highest is surmounted with a cross gules, and from the +meeting-point of the three hillocks upon either hand a branch of +olive vert. This was in 1319. In 1324 John XXII. confirmed the +order, and in 1344 it was further approved by Clement VI. +Affiliated societies sprang <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg075" +id="pg075">75</a></span> up in several Tuscan cities; and in 1347, +Bernardo Tolomei, at that time General of the Order, held a chapter +of its several houses. The next year was the year of the great +plague or Black Death. Bernardo bade his brethren leave their +seclusion, and go forth on works of mercy among the sick. Some went +to Florence, some to Siena, others to the smaller hill-set towns of +Tuscany. All were bidden to assemble on the Feast of the Assumption +at Siena. Here the founder addressed his spiritual children for the +last time. Soon afterwards he died himself, at the age of +seventy-seven, and the place of his grave is not known. He was +beatified by the Church for his great virtues.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>At noon we started, four of us, in an open waggonette with a +pair of horses, for Monte Oliveto, the luggage heaped mountain-high +and tied in a top-heavy mass above us. After leaving the gateway, +with its massive fortifications and frescoed arches, the road +passes into a dull earthy country, very much like some +parts—and not the best parts—of England. The beauty of +the Sienese contado is clearly on the sandstone, not upon the clay. +Hedges, haystacks, isolated farms—all were English in their +details. Only the vines, and mulberries, and wattled waggons drawn +by oxen, most Roman in aspect, reminded us we were in Tuscany. In +such <i>carpenta</i> may the vestal virgins have ascended the +Capitol. It is the primitive war-chariot also, capable of holding +four with ease; and Romulus may have mounted with the images of +Roman gods in even such a vehicle to Latiarian Jove upon the Alban +hill. Nothing changes in Italy. The wooden ploughs are those which +Virgil knew. The sight of one of them would <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg076" id="pg076">76</a></span> save an +intelligent lad much trouble in mastering a certain passage of the +Georgics.</p> + +<p>Siena is visible behind us nearly the whole way to Buonconvento, +a little town where the Emperor Henry VII. died, as it was +supposed, of poison, in 1313. It is still circled with the wall and +gates built by the Sienese in 1366, and is a fair specimen of an +intact mediæval stronghold. Here we leave the main road, and +break into a country-track across a bed of sandstone, with the +delicate volcanic lines of Monte Amiata in front, and the +aërial pile of Montalcino to our right. The pyracanthus bushes +in the hedge yield their clusters of bright yellow berries, mingled +with more glowing hues of red from haws and glossy hips. On the +pale grey earthen slopes men and women are plying the long +Sabellian hoes of their forefathers, and ploughmen are driving +furrows down steep hills. The labour of the husbandmen in Tuscany +is very graceful, partly, I think, because it is so primitive, but +also because the people have an eminently noble carriage, and are +fashioned on the lines of antique statues. I noticed two young +contadini in one field, whom Frederick Walker might have painted +with the dignity of Pheidian form. They were guiding their ploughs +along a hedge of olive-trees, slanting upwards, the white-horned +oxen moving slowly through the marl, and the lads bending to press +the plough-shares home. It was a delicate piece of colour—the +grey mist of olive branches, the warm smoking earth, the creamy +flanks of the oxen, the brown limbs and dark eyes of the men, who +paused awhile to gaze at us, with shadows cast upon the furrows +from their tall straight figures. Then they turned to their work +again, and rhythmic movement was added to the picture. I wonder +when an Italian artist will condescend to pluck these flowers of +beauty, so abundantly offered by the simplest things in his own +native land. Each city has <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg077" +id="pg077">77</a></span> an Accademia delle Belle Arti, and there +is no lack of students. But the painters, having learned their +trade, make copies ten times distant from the truth of famous +masterpieces for the American market. Few seem to look beyond their +picture galleries. Thus the democratic art, the art of Millet, the +art of life and nature and the people, waits.</p> + +<p>As we mount, the soil grows of a richer brown; and there are +woods of oak where herds of swine are feeding on the acorns. Monte +Oliveto comes in sight—a mass of red brick, backed up with +cypresses, among dishevelled earthy precipices, <i>balze</i> as +they are called—upon the hill below the village of Chiusure. +This Chiusure was once a promising town; but the life was crushed +out of it in the throes of mediæval civil wars, and since the +thirteenth century it has been dwindling to a hamlet. The struggle +for existence, from which the larger communes of this district, +Siena and Montepulciano, emerged at the expense of their +neighbours, must have been tragical. The <i>balze</i> now grow +sterner, drier, more dreadful. We see how deluges outpoured from +thunder-storms bring down their viscous streams of loam, destroying +in an hour the terraces it took a year to build, and spreading +wasteful mud upon the scanty cornfields. The people call this soil +<i>creta</i>; but it seems to be less like a chalk than a marl, or +<i>marna</i>. It is always washing away into ravines and gullies, +exposing the roots of trees, and rendering the tillage of the land +a thankless labour. One marvels how any vegetation has the faith to +settle on its dreary waste, or how men have the patience, +generation after generation, to renew the industry, still +beginning, never ending, which reclaims such wildernesses. +Comparing Monte Oliveto with similar districts of cretaceous +soil—with the country, for example, between Pienza and San +Quirico—we perceive how much is owed to the perseverance of +the monks whom Bernard <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg078" id= +"pg078">78</a></span> Tolomei planted here. So far as it is clothed +at all with crop and wood, this is their service.</p> + +<p>At last we climb the crowning hill, emerge from a copse of oak, +glide along a terraced pathway through the broom, and find +ourselves in front of the convent gateway. A substantial tower of +red brick, machicolated at the top and pierced with small square +windows, guards this portal, reminding us that at some time or +other the monks found it needful to arm their solitude against a +force descending from Chiusure. There is an avenue of slender +cypresses; and over the gate, protected by a jutting roof, shines a +fresco of Madonna and Child. Passing rapidly downwards, we are in +the courtyard of the monastery, among its stables, barns, and +out-houses, with the forlorn bulk of the huge red building, +spreading wide, and towering up above us. As good luck ruled our +arrival, we came face to face with the Abbate de Negro, who +administers the domain of Monte Oliveto for the Government of +Italy, and exercises a kindly hospitality to chance-comers. He was +standing near the church, which, with its tall square campanile, +breaks the long stern outline of the convent. The whole edifice, it +may be said, is composed of a red-brick inclining to purple in +tone, which contrasts not unpleasantly with the lustrous green of +the cypresses, and the glaucous sheen of olives. Advantage has been +taken of a steep crest; and the monastery, enlarged from time to +time through the last five centuries, has here and there been +reared upon gigantic buttresses, which jut upon the <i>balze</i> at +a sometimes giddy height.</p> + +<p>The Abbate received us with true courtesy, and gave us spacious +rooms, three cells apiece, facing Siena and the western mountains. +There is accommodation, he told us, for three hundred monks; but +only three are left in it. As this order was confined to members of +the nobility, each of <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg079" id= +"pg079">79</a></span> the religious had his own apartment—not +a cubicle such as the uninstructed dream of when they read of +monks, but separate chambers for sleep and study and +recreation.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the vast sad landscape, the place is still, +with a silence that can be almost heard. The deserted state of +those innumerable cells, those echoing corridors and shadowy +cloisters, exercises overpowering tyranny over the imagination. +Siena is so far away, and Montalcino is so faintly outlined on its +airy parapet, that these cities only deepen our sense of +desolation. It is a relief to mark at no great distance on the +hillside a contadino guiding his oxen, and from a lonely farm yon +column of ascending smoke. At least the world goes on, and life is +somewhere resonant with song. But here there rests a pall of +silence among the oak-groves and the cypresses and <i>balze</i>. As +I leaned and mused, while Christian (my good friend and +fellow-traveller from the Grisons) made our beds, a melancholy +sunset flamed up from a rampart of cloud, built like a city of the +air above the mountains of Volterra—fire issuing from its +battlements, and smiting the fretted roof of heaven above. It was a +conflagration of celestial rose upon the saddest purples and +cavernous recesses of intensest azure.</p> + +<p>We had an excellent supper in the visitors' +refectory—soup, good bread and country wine, ham, a roast +chicken with potatoes, a nice white cheese made of sheep's milk, +and grapes for dessert. The kind Abbate sat by, and watched his +four guests eat, tapping his tortoiseshell snuff-box, and telling +us many interesting things about the past and present state of the +convent. Our company was completed with Lupo, the pet cat, and +Pirro, a woolly Corsican dog, very good friends, and both +enormously voracious. Lupo in particular engraved himself upon the +memory of Christian, into whose large legs he thrust his claws, +when the cheese-parings and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg080" +id="pg080">80</a></span> scraps were not supplied him with +sufficient promptitude. I never saw a hungrier and bolder cat. It +made one fancy that even the mice had been exiled from this +solitude. And truly the rule of the monastic order, no less than +the habit of Italian gentlemen, is frugal in the matter of the +table, beyond the conception of northern folk.</p> + +<p>Monte Oliveto, the Superior told us, owned thirty-two +<i>poderi</i>, or large farms, of which five have recently been +sold. They are worked on the <i>mezzeria</i> system; whereby +peasants and proprietors divide the produce of the soil; and which +he thinks inferior for developing its resources to that of +<i>affitto</i>, or leaseholding.</p> + +<p>The contadini live in scattered houses; and he says the estate +would be greatly improved by doubling the number of these +dwellings, and letting the subdivided farms to more energetic +people. The village of Chiusure is inhabited by labourers. The +contadini are poor: a dower, for instance, of fifty <i>lire</i> is +thought something: whereas near Genoa, upon the leasehold system, a +farmer may sometimes provide a dower of twenty thousand +<i>lire</i>. The country produces grain of different sorts, +excellent oil, and timber. It also yields a tolerable red wine. The +Government makes from eight to nine per cent. upon the value of the +land, employing him and his two religious brethren as agents.</p> + +<p>In such conversation the evening passed. We rested well in large +hard beds with dry rough sheets. But there was a fretful wind +abroad, which went wailing round the convent walls and rattling the +doors in its deserted corridors. One of our party had been placed +by himself at the end of a long suite of apartments, with balconies +commanding the wide sweep of hills that Monte Amiata crowns. He +confessed in the morning to having passed a restless night, +tormented by the ghostly noises of the wind, a wanderer, 'like the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg081" id="pg081">81</a></span> +world's rejected guest,' through those untenanted chambers. The +olives tossed their filmy boughs in twilight underneath his +windows, sighing and shuddering, with a sheen in them as eerie as +that of willows by some haunted mere.</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The great attraction to students of Italian art in the convent +of Monte Oliveto is a large square cloister, covered with +wall-paintings by Luca Signorelli and Giovannantonio Bazzi, +surnamed Il Sodoma. These represent various episodes in the life of +S. Benedict; while one picture, in some respects the best of the +whole series, is devoted to the founder of the Olivetan Order, +Bernardo Tolomei, dispensing the rule of his institution to a +consistory of white-robed monks. Signorelli, that great master of +Cortona, may be studied to better advantage elsewhere, especially +at Orvieto and in his native city. His work in this cloister, +consisting of eight frescoes, has been much spoiled by time and +restoration. Yet it can be referred to a good period of his +artistic activity (the year 1497) and displays much which is +specially characteristic of his manner. In Totila's barbaric train, +he painted a crowd of fierce emphatic figures, combining all ages +and the most varied attitudes, and reproducing with singular +vividness the Italian soldiers of adventure of his day. We see +before us the long-haired followers of Braccio and the Baglioni; +their handsome savage faces; their brawny limbs clad in the +particoloured hose and jackets of that period; feathered caps stuck +sideways on their heads; a splendid swagger in their straddling +legs. Female beauty lay outside the sphere of Signorelli's +sympathy; and in the Monte Oliveto cloister he was not called upon +to paint it. But none of the Italian masters felt more keenly, or +more powerfully <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg082" id= +"pg082">82</a></span> represented in their work, the muscular +vigour of young manhood. Two of the remaining frescoes, different +from these in motive, might be selected as no less characteristic +of Signorelli's manner. One represents three sturdy monks, clad in +brown, working with all their strength to stir a boulder, which has +been bewitched, and needs a miracle to move it from its place. The +square and powerfully outlined drawing of these figures is beyond +all praise for its effect of massive solidity. The other shows us +the interior of a fifteenth-century tavern, where two monks are +regaling themselves upon the sly. A country girl, with shapely arms +and shoulders, her upper skirts tucked round the ample waist to +which broad sweeping lines of back and breasts descend, is serving +wine. The exuberance of animal life, the freedom of attitude +expressed in this, the mainly interesting figure of the +composition, show that Signorelli might have been a great master of +realistic painting. Nor are the accessories less effective. A +wide-roofed kitchen chimney, a page-boy leaving the room by a +flight of steps which leads to the house door, and the table at +which the truant monks are seated, complete a picture of homely +Italian life. It may still be matched out of many an inn in this +hill district.</p> + +<p>Called to graver work at Orvieto, where he painted his gigantic +series of frescoes illustrating the coming of Anti-christ, the +Destruction of the World, the Resurrection, the Last Judgment, and +the final state of souls in Paradise and Hell, Signorelli left his +work at Monte Oliveto unaccomplished. Seven years later it was +taken up by a painter of very different genius. Sodoma was a native +of Vercelli, and had received his first training in the Lombard +schools, which owed so much to Lionardo da Vinci's influence. He +was about thirty years of age when chance brought him to Siena. +Here he made acquaintance with Pandolfo Petrucci, who had <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg083" id="pg083">83</a></span> recently +established himself in a species of tyranny over the Republic. The +work he did for this patron and other nobles of Siena, brought him +into notice. Vasari observes that his hot Lombard colouring, a +something florid and attractive in his style, which contrasted with +the severity of the Tuscan school, rendered him no less agreeable +as an artist than his free manners made him acceptable as a +house-friend. Fra Domenico da Leccio, also a Lombard, was at that +time General of the monks of Monte Oliveto. On a visit to this +compatriot in 1505, Sodoma received a commission to complete the +cloister; and during the next two years he worked there, producing +in all twenty-five frescoes. For his pains he seemed to have +received but little pay—Vasari says, only the expenses of +some colour-grinders who assisted him; but from the books of the +convent it appears that 241 ducats, or something over 60<i>l.</i> +of our money, were disbursed to him.</p> + +<p>Sodoma was so singular a fellow, even in that age of piquant +personalities, that it may be worth while to translate a fragment +of Vasari's gossip about him. We must, however, bear in mind that, +for some unknown reason, the Aretine historian bore a rancorous +grudge against this Lombard whose splendid gifts and great +achievements he did all he could by writing to depreciate. 'He was +fond,' says Vasari, 'of keeping in his house all sorts of strange +animals: badgers, squirrels, monkeys, cat-a-mountains, +dwarf-donkeys, horses, racers, little Elba ponies, jackdaws, +bantams, doves of India, and other creatures of this kind, as many +as he could lay his hands on. Over and above these beasts, he had a +raven, which had learned so well from him to talk, that it could +imitate its master's voice, especially in answering the door when +some one knocked, and this it did so cleverly that people took it +for Giovannantonio himself, as all the folk of Siena know quite +well. In like manner, his other pets were <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg084" id="pg084">84</a></span> so much at home with him that +they never left his house, but played the strangest tricks and +maddest pranks imaginable, so that his house was like nothing more +than a Noah's Ark.' He was a bold rider, it seems; for with one of +his racers, ridden by himself, he bore away the prize in that wild +horse-race they run upon the Piazza at Siena. For the rest, 'he +attired himself in pompous clothes, wearing doublets of brocade, +cloaks trimmed with gold lace, gorgeous caps, neck-chains, and +other vanities of a like description, fit for buffoons and +mountebanks.' In one of the frescoes of Monte Oliveto, Sodoma +painted his own portrait, with some of his curious pets around him. +He there appears as a young man with large and decidedly handsome +features, a great shock of dark curled hair escaping from a yellow +cap, and flowing down over a rich mantle which drapes his +shoulders. If we may trust Vasari, he showed his curious humours +freely to the monks. 'Nobody could describe the amusement he +furnished to those good fathers, who christened him Mattaccio (the +big madman), or the insane tricks he played there.'</p> + +<p>In spite of Vasari's malevolence, the portrait he has given us +of Bazzi has so far nothing unpleasant about it. The man seems to +have been a madcap artist, combining with his love for his +profession a taste for fine clothes, and what was then perhaps +rarer in people of his sort, a great partiality for living +creatures of all kinds. The darker shades of Vasari's picture have +been purposely omitted from these pages. We only know for certain, +about Bazzi's private life, that he was married in 1510 to a +certain Beatrice, who bore him two children, and who was still +living with him in 1541. The further suggestion that he painted at +Monte Oliveto subjects unworthy of a religious house, is wholly +disproved by the frescoes which still exist in a state of very +tolerable preservation. They represent various episodes in the +legend of S. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg085" id= +"pg085">85</a></span> Benedict; all marked by that spirit of +simple, almost childish piety which is a special characteristic of +Italian religious history. The series forms, in fact, a painted +<i>novella</i> of monastic life; its petty jealousies, its petty +trials, its tribulations and temptations, and its indescribably +petty miracles. Bazzi was well fitted for the execution of this +task. He had a swift and facile brush, considerable versatility in +the treatment of monotonous subjects, and a never-failing sense of +humour. His white-cowled monks, some of them with the rosy +freshness of boys, some with the handsome brown faces of middle +life, others astute and crafty, others again wrinkled with old age, +have clearly been copied from real models. He puts them into action +without the slightest effort, and surrounds them with landscapes, +architecture, and furniture, appropriate to each successive +situation. The whole is done with so much grace, such simplicity of +composition, and transparency of style, corresponding to the +<i>naïf</i> and superficial legend, that we feel a perfect +harmony between the artist's mind and the motives he was made to +handle. In this respect Bazzi's portion of the legend of S. +Benedict is more successful than Signorelli's. It was fortunate, +perhaps, that the conditions of his task confined him to +uncomplicated groupings, and a scale of colour in which white +predominates. For Bazzi, as is shown by subsequent work in the +Farnesina Villa at Rome, and in the church of S. Domenico at Siena, +was no master of composition; and the tone, even of his +masterpieces, inclines to heat. Unlike Signorelli, Bazzi felt a +deep artistic sympathy with female beauty; and the most attractive +fresco in the whole series is that in which the evil monk +Florentius brings a bevy of fair damsels to the convent. There is +one group, in particular, of six women, so delicately varied in +carriage of the head and suggested movement of the body, as to be +comparable only to a strain of concerted <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg086" id="pg086">86</a></span> music. This is perhaps the +painter's masterpiece in the rendering of pure beauty, if we except +his S. Sebastian of the Uffizzi.</p> + +<p>We tire of studying pictures, hardly less than of reading about +them! I was glad enough, after three hours spent among the frescoes +of this cloister, to wander forth into the copses which surround +the convent. Sunlight was streaming treacherously from flying +clouds; and though it was high noon, the oak-leaves were still +a-tremble with dew. Pink cyclamens and yellow amaryllis starred the +moist brown earth; and under the cypress-trees, where alleys had +been cut in former time for pious feet, the short firm turf was +soft and mossy. Before bidding the hospitable Padre farewell, and +starting in our waggonette for Asciano, it was pleasant to meditate +awhile in these green solitudes. Generations of white-stoled monks +who had sat or knelt upon the now deserted terraces, or had slowly +paced the winding paths to Calvaries aloft and points of vantage +high above the wood, rose up before me. My mind, still full of +Bazzi's frescoes, peopled the wilderness with grave monastic forms, +and gracious, young-eyed faces of boyish novices.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg087" id= +"pg087">87</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="MONTEPULCIANO" id= +"MONTEPULCIANO" /><i>MONTEPULCIANO</i></h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>For the sake of intending travellers to this, the lordliest of +Tuscan hill-towns, it will be well to state at once and without +circumlocution what does not appear upon the time-tables of the +line from Empoli to Rome. Montepulciano has a station; but this +railway station is at the distance of at least an hour and a half's +drive from the mountain upon which the city stands.</p> + +<p>The lumbering train which brought us one October evening from +Asciano crawled into this station after dark, at the very moment +when a storm, which had been gathering from the south-west, burst +in deluges of rain and lightning. There was, however, a covered +carriage going to the town. Into this we packed ourselves, together +with a polite Italian gentleman who, in answer to our questions, +consulted his watch, and smilingly replied that a little half-hour +would bring us easily to Montepulciano. He was a native of the +place. He knew perfectly well that he would be shut up with us in +that carriage for two mortal hours of darkness and downpour. And +yet, such is the irresistible impulse in Italians to say something +immediately agreeable, he fed us with false hopes and had no fear +of consequences. What did it matter to him if we were pulling out +our watches and chattering in well-contented undertone about +<i>vino nobile</i>, <i>biftek</i>, and possibly a <i>polio +arrosto</i>, or a dish of <i>tord</i>? At <a name="pg088" id= +"pg088"></a><span class="pagenum">88</span> the end of the +half-hour, as he was well aware, self-congratulations and visions +of a hearty supper would turn to discontented wailings, and the +querulous complaining of defrauded appetites. But the end of half +an hour was still half an hour off; and we meanwhile were +comfortable.</p> + +<p>The night was pitchy dark, and blazing flashes of lightning +showed a white ascending road at intervals. Rain rushed in +torrents, splashing against the carriage wheels, which moved +uneasily, as though they could but scarcely stem the river that +swept down upon them. Far away above us to the left, was one light +on a hill, which never seemed to get any nearer. We could see +nothing but a chasm of blackness below us on one side, edged with +ghostly olive-trees, and a high bank on the other. Sometimes a star +swam out of the drifting clouds; but then the rain hissed down +again, and the flashes came in floods of livid light, illuminating +the eternal olives and the cypresses which looked like huge black +spectres. It seemed almost impossible for the horses to keep their +feet, as the mountain road grew ever steeper and the torrent +swelled around them. Still they struggled on. The promised +half-hour had been doubled, trebled, quadrupled, when at last we +saw the great brown sombre walls of a city tower above us. Then we +entered one of those narrow lofty Tuscan gates, and rolled upon the +pavement of a street.</p> + +<p>The inn at Montepulciano is called Marzocco, after the +Florentine lion which stands upon its column in a little square +before the house. The people there are hospitable, and more than +once on subsequent occasions have they extended to us kindly +welcome. But on this, our first appearance, they had scanty room at +their disposal. Seeing us arrive so late, and march into their +dining-room, laden with sealskins, waterproofs, and ulsters, one of +the party <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg089" id= +"pg089">89</a></span> hugging a complete Euripides in Didot's huge +edition, they were confounded. At last they conducted the whole +company of four into a narrow back bedroom, where they pointed to +one fair-sized and one very little bed. This was the only room at +liberty, they said; and could we not arrange to sleep here? <i>S' +accomodi, Signore! S' accomodi, Signora!</i> These encouraging +words, uttered in various tones of cheerful and insinuating +politeness to each member of the party in succession, failed to +make us comprehend how a gentleman and his wife, with a lean but +rather lengthy English friend, and a bulky native of the Grisons, +could 'accommodate themselves' collectively and undividedly with +what was barely sufficient for their just moiety, however much it +might afford a night's rest to their worse half. Christian was sent +out into the storm to look for supplementary rooms in +Montepulciano, which he failed to get. Meanwhile we ordered supper, +and had the satisfaction of seeing set upon the board a huge red +flask of <i>vino nobile</i>. In copious draughts of this the King +of Tuscan wines, we drowned our cares; and when the cloth was +drawn, our friend and Christian passed their night upon the supper +table. The good folk of the inn had recovered from their surprise, +and from the inner recesses of their house had brought forth +mattresses and blankets. So the better and larger half of the +company enjoyed sound sleep.</p> + +<p>It rained itself out at night, and the morning was clear, with +the transparent atmosphere of storm-clouds hurrying in broken +squadrons from the bad sea quarter. Yet this is just the weather in +which Tuscan landscape looks its loveliest. Those immense expanses +of grey undulating uplands need the luminousness of watery +sunshine, the colour added by cloud-shadows, and the pearly +softness of rising vapours, to rob them of a certain awful +grimness. The main street of Montepulciano goes straight uphill for +a considerable distance <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg090" id= +"pg090">90</a></span> between brown palaces; then mounts by a +staircase-zigzag under huge impending masses of masonry; until it +ends in a piazza. On the ascent, at intervals, the eye is +fascinated by prospects to the north and east over Val di Chiana, +Cortona, Thrasymene, Chiusi; to south and west over Monte Cetona, +Radicofani, Monte Amiata, the Val d' Ombrone, and the Sienese +Contado. Grey walls overgrown with ivy, arcades of time-toned +brick, and the forbidding bulk of houses hewn from solid +travertine, frame these glimpses of aërial space. The piazza +is the top of all things. Here are the Duomo; the Palazzo del +Comune, closely resembling that of Florence, with the Marzocco on +its front; the fountain, between two quaintly sculptured columns; +and the vast palace Del Monte, of heavy Renaissance architecture, +said to be the work of Antonio di San Gallo.</p> + +<p>We climbed the tower of the Palazzo del Comune, and stood at the +altitude of 2000 feet above the sea. The view is finer in its kind +than I have elsewhere seen, even in Tuscany, that land of panoramic +prospects over memorable tracts of world-historic country. Such +landscape cannot be described in words. But the worst is that, even +while we gaze, we know that nothing but the faintest memory of our +enjoyment will be carried home with us. The atmospheric conditions +were perfect that morning. The sun was still young; the sky +sparkled after the night's thunderstorm; the whole immensity of +earth around lay lucid, smiling, newly washed in baths of moisture. +Masses of storm-cloud kept rolling from the west, where we seemed +to feel the sea behind those intervening hills. But they did not +form in heavy blocks or hang upon the mountain summits. They +hurried and dispersed and changed and flung their shadows on the +world below.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg091" id= +"pg091">91</a></span></p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The charm of this view is composed of so many different +elements, so subtly blent, appealing to so many separate +sensibilities; the sense of grandeur, the sense of space, the sense +of natural beauty, and the sense of human pathos; that deep +internal faculty we call historic sense; that it cannot be defined. +First comes the immense surrounding space—a space measured in +each arc of the circumference by sections of at least fifty miles, +limited by points of exquisitely picturesque beauty, including +distant cloud-like mountain ranges and crystals of sky-blue +Apennines, circumscribing landscapes of refined loveliness in +detail, always varied, always marked by objects of peculiar +interest where the eye or memory may linger. Next in importance to +this immensity of space, so powerfully affecting the imagination by +its mere extent, and by the breadth of atmosphere attuning all +varieties of form and colour to one harmony beneath illimitable +heaven, may be reckoned the episodes of rivers, lakes, hills, +cities, with old historic names. For there spreads the lordly +length of Thrasymene, islanded and citadelled, in hazy morning +mist, still dreaming of the shock of Roman hosts with Carthaginian +legions. There is the lake of Chiusi, set like a jewel underneath +the copse-clad hills which hide the dust of a dead Tuscan nation. +The streams of Arno start far far away, where Arezzo lies enfolded +in bare uplands. And there at our feet rolls Tiber's largest +affluent, the Chiana. And there is the canal which joins their +fountains in the marsh that Lionardo would have drained. Monte +Cetona is yonder height which rears its bristling ridge defiantly +from neighbouring Chiusi. And there springs Radicofani, the eagle's +eyrie of a brigand brood. Next, Monte Amiata stretches the long +lines of her antique volcano; the swelling mountain flanks, <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg092" id="pg092">92</a></span> descending +gently from her cloud-capped top, are russet with autumnal oak and +chestnut woods. On them our eyes rest lovingly; imagination wanders +for a moment through those mossy glades, where cyclamens are +growing now, and primroses in spring will peep amid anemones from +rustling foliage strewn by winter's winds. The heights of +Casentino, the Perugian highlands, Volterra, far withdrawn amid a +wilderness of rolling hills, and solemn snow-touched ranges of the +Spolentino, Sibyl-haunted fastnesses of Norcia, form the most +distant horizon-lines of this unending panorama. And then there are +the cities placed each upon a point of vantage: Siena; +olive-mantled Chiusi; Cortona, white upon her spreading throne; +poetic Montalcino, lifted aloft against the vaporous sky; San +Quirico, nestling in pastoral tranquillity; Pienza, where +Æneas Sylvius built palaces and called his birthplace after +his own Papal name. Still closer to the town itself of +Montepulciano, stretching along the irregular ridge which gave it +building ground, and trending out on spurs above deep orchards, +come the lovely details of oak-copses, blending with grey tilth and +fields rich with olive and vine. The gaze, exhausted with +immensity, pierces those deeply cloven valleys, sheltered from wind +and open to the sun—undulating folds of brown earth, where +Bacchus, when he visited Tuscany, found the grape-juice that +pleased him best, and crowned the wine of Montepulciano king. Here +from our eyrie we can trace white oxen on the furrows, guided by +brown-limbed, white-shirted contadini.</p> + +<p>The morning glory of this view from Montepulciano, though +irrecoverable by words, abides in the memory, and draws one back by +its unique attractiveness. On a subsequent visit to the town in +springtime, my wife and I took a twilight walk, just after our +arrival, through its gloomy fortress streets, up to the piazza, +where the impendent houses <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg093" +id="pg093">93</a></span> lowered like bastions, and all the masses +of their mighty architecture stood revealed in shadow and dim +lamplight. Far and wide, the country round us gleamed with +bonfires; for it was the eve of the Ascension, when every contadino +lights a beacon of chestnut logs and straw and piled-up leaves. +Each castello on the plain, each village on the hills, each lonely +farmhouse at the skirt of forest or the edge of lake, smouldered +like a red Cyclopean eye beneath the vault of stars. The flames +waxed and waned, leapt into tongues, or disappeared. As they passed +from gloom to brilliancy and died away again, they seemed almost to +move. The twilight scene was like that of a vast city, filling the +plain and climbing the heights in terraces. Is this custom, I +thought, a relic of old Pales-worship?</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The early history of Montepulciano is buried in impenetrable +mists of fable. No one can assign a date to the foundation of these +high-hill cities. The eminence on which it stands belongs to the +volcanic system of Monte Amiata, and must at some time have formed +a portion of the crater which threw that mighty mass aloft. But +sons have passed since the <i>gran sasso di Maremma</i> was a +fire-vomiting monster, glaring like Etna in eruption on the +Tyrrhene sea; and through those centuries how many races may have +camped upon the summit we call Montepulciano! Tradition assigns the +first quasi-historical settlement to Lars Porsena, who is said to +have made it his summer residence, when the lower and more marshy +air of Clusium became oppressive. Certainly it must have been a +considerable town in the Etruscan period. Embedded in the walls of +palaces may still be seen numerous fragments of sculptured +basreliefs, the works of that mysterious people. Apropos of +Montepulciano's importance <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg094" +id="pg094">94</a></span> in the early years of Roman history, I +lighted on a quaint story related by its very jejune annalist, +Spinello Benci. It will be remembered that Livy attributes the +invasion of the Gauls, who, after besieging Clusium, advanced on +Rome, to the persuasions of a certain Aruns. He was an exile from +Clusium; and wishing to revenge himself upon his country-people, he +allured the Senonian Gauls into his service by the promise of +excellent wine, samples of which he had taken with him into +Lombardy. Spinello Benci accepts the legend literally, and +continues: 'These wines were so pleasing to the palate of the +barbarians, that they were induced to quit the rich and teeming +valley of the Po, to cross the Apennines, and move in battle array +against Chiusi. And it is clear that the wine which Aruns selected +for the purpose was the same as that which is produced to this day +at Montepulciano. For nowhere else in the Etruscan district can +wines of equally generous quality and fiery spirit be found, so +adapted for export and capable of such long preservation.'</p> + +<p>We may smile at the historian's <i>naïveté</i>. Yet +the fact remains that good wine of Montepulciano can still allure +barbarians of this epoch to the spot where it is grown. Of all +Italian vintages, with the exception of some rare qualities of +Sicily and the Valtellina, it is, in my humble opinion, the best. +And when the time comes for Italy to develop the resources of her +vineyards upon scientific principles, Montepulciano will drive +Brolio from the field and take the same place by the side of +Chianti which Volnay occupies by common Macon. It will then be +quoted upon wine-lists throughout Europe, and find its place upon +the tables of rich epicures in Hyperborean regions, and add its +generous warmth to Trans-atlantic banquets. Even as it is now made, +with very little care bestowed on cultivation and none to speak of +on selection of the grape, the wine is rich and noble, slightly +rough to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg095" id= +"pg095">95</a></span> sophisticated palate, but clean in quality +and powerful and racy. It deserves the enthusiasm attributed by +Redi to Bacchus:<a name="FNanchor_1_10" id="FNanchor_1_10" /><a +href="#Footnote_1_10" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">Fill, fill, let us all have our will!</div> + +<div class="i1">But with <i>what</i>, with <i>what</i>, boys, shall +we fill.</div> + +<div class="i1">Sweet Ariadne—no, not <i>that</i> +one—<i>ah</i> no;</div> + +<div class="i1">Fill me the manna of Montepulciano:</div> + +<div class="i1">Fill me a magnum and reach it me.—Gods!</div> + +<div class="i1">How it glides to my heart by the sweetest of +roads!</div> + +<div class="i1">Oh, how it kisses me, tickles me, bites me!</div> + +<div class="i1">Oh, how my eyes loosen sweetly in tears!</div> + +<div class="i1">I'm ravished! I'm rapt! Heaven finds me +admissible!</div> + +<div class="i1">Lost in an ecstasy! blinded! +invisible!—</div> + +<div class="i1">Hearken all earth!</div> + +<div class="i1">We, Bacchus, in the might of our great mirth,</div> + +<div class="i1">To all who reverence us, are right thinkers;</div> + +<div class="i1">Hear, all ye drinkers!</div> + +<div class="i1">Give ear and give faith to the edict divine;</div> + +<div class="i1">Montepulciano's the King of all wine.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It is necessary, however, that our modern barbarian should +travel to Montepulciano itself, and there obtain a flask of +<i>manna</i> or <i>vino nobile</i> from some trusty cellar-master. +He will not find it bottled in the inns or restaurants upon his +road.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_10" id="Footnote_1_10" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_10"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From +Leigh Hunt's Translation.</p> +</div> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The landscape and the wine of Montepulciano are both well worth +the trouble of a visit to this somewhat inaccessible city. Yet more +remains to be said about the attractions of the town itself. In the +Duomo, which was spoiled by unintelligent rebuilding at a dismal +epoch of barren art, are fragments of one of the rarest monuments +of Tuscan sculpture. This is the tomb of Bartolommeo Aragazzi. He +was a native of Montepulciano, and secretary to Pope Martin V., +that <i>Papa</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg096" id= +"pg096">96</a></span> <i>Martino non vale un quattrino</i>, on +whom, during his long residence in Florence, the street-boys made +their rhymes. Twelve years before his death he commissioned +Donatello and Michelozzo Michelozzi, who about that period were +working together upon the monuments of Pope John XXIII. and +Cardinal Brancacci, to erect his own tomb at the enormous cost of +twenty-four thousand scudi. That thirst for immortality of fame, +which inspired the humanists of the Renaissance, prompted Aragazzi +to this princely expenditure. Yet, having somehow won the hatred of +his fellow-students, he was immediately censured for excessive +vanity. Lionardo Bruni makes his monument the theme of a ferocious +onslaught. Writing to Poggio Bracciolini, Bruni tells a story how, +while travelling through the country of Arezzo, he met a train of +oxen dragging heavy waggons piled with marble columns, statues, and +all the necessary details of a sumptuous sepulchre. He stopped, and +asked what it all meant. Then one of the contractors for this +transport, wiping the sweat from his forehead, in utter weariness +of the vexatious labour, at the last end of his temper, answered: +'May the gods destroy all poets, past, present, and future.' I +inquired what he had to do with poets, and how they had annoyed +him. 'Just this,' he replied, 'that this poet, lately deceased, a +fool and windy-pated fellow, has ordered a monument for himself; +and with a view to erecting it, these marbles are being dragged to +Montepulciano; but I doubt whether we shall contrive to get them up +there. The roads are too bad.' 'But,' cried I, 'do you believe +<i>that</i> man was a poet—that dunce who had no science, +nay, nor knowledge either? who only rose above the heads of men by +vanity and doltishness?' 'I don't know,' he answered, 'nor did I +ever hear tell, while he was alive, about his being called a poet; +but his fellow-townsmen now decide he was one; nay, if he had but +left a few more money-bags, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg097" +id="pg097">97</a></span> they'd swear he was a god. Anyhow, but for +his having been a poet, I would not have cursed poets in general.' +Whereupon, the malevolent Bruni withdrew, and composed a +scorpion-tailed oration, addressed to his friend Poggio, on the +suggested theme of 'diuturnity in monuments,' and false ambition. +Our old friends of humanistic learning—Cyrus, Alexander, +Cæsar—meet us in these frothy paragraphs. Cambyses, +Xerxes, Artaxerxes, Darius, are thrown in to make the gruel of +rhetoric 'thick and slab.' The whole epistle ends in a long-drawn +peroration of invective against 'that excrement in human shape,' +who had had the ill-luck, by pretence to scholarship, by big gains +from the Papal treasury, by something in his manners alien from the +easy-going customs of the Roman Court, to rouse the rancour of his +fellow-humanists.</p> + +<p>I have dwelt upon this episode, partly because it illustrates +the peculiar thirst for glory in the students of that time, but +more especially because it casts a thin clear thread of actual +light upon the masterpiece which, having been transported with this +difficulty from Donatello's workshop, is now to be seen by all +lovers of fine art, in part at least, at Montepulciano. In part at +least: the phrase is pathetic. Poor Aragazzi, who thirsted so for +'diuturnity in monuments,' who had been so cruelly assaulted in the +grave by humanistic jealousy, expressing its malevolence with +humanistic crudity of satire, was destined after all to be +defrauded of his well-paid tomb. The monument, a master work of +Donatello and his collaborator, was duly erected. The oxen and the +contractors, it appears, had floundered through the mud of +Valdichiana, and struggled up the mountain-slopes of Montepulciano. +But when the church, which this triumph of art adorned, came to be +repaired, the miracle of beauty was dismembered. The sculpture for +which Aragazzi spent his thousands of crowns, which Donatello +touched with his immortalising chisel, over <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg098" id="pg098">98</a></span> which the +contractors vented their curses and Bruni eased his bile; these +marbles are now visible as mere <i>disjecta membra</i> in a church +which, lacking them, has little to detain a traveller's haste.</p> + +<p>On the left hand of the central door, as you enter, Aragazzi +lies, in senatorial robes, asleep; his head turned slightly to the +right upon the pillow, his hands folded over his breast. Very noble +are the draperies, and dignified the deep tranquillity of slumber. +Here, we say, is a good man fallen upon sleep, awaiting +resurrection. The one commanding theme of Christian sculpture, in +an age of Pagan feeling, has been adequately rendered. Bartolommeo +Aragazzi, like Ilaria led Carretto at Lucca, like the canopied +doges in S. Zanipolo at Venice, like the Acciauoli in the +Florentine Certosa, like the Cardinal di Portogallo in Samminiato, +is carved for us as he had been in life, but with that life +suspended, its fever all smoothed out, its agitations over, its +pettinesses dignified by death. This marmoreal repose of the once +active man symbolises for our imagination the state into which he +passed four centuries ago, but in which, according to the creed, he +still abides, reserved for judgment and re-incarnation. The flesh, +clad with which he walked our earth, may moulder in the vaults +beneath. But it will one day rise again; and art has here presented +it imperishable to our gaze. This is how the Christian sculptors, +inspired by the majestic calm of classic art, dedicated a Christian +to the genius of repose. Among the nations of antiquity this repose +of death was eternal; and being unable to conceive of a man's body +otherwise than for ever obliterated by the flames of funeral, they +were perforce led back to actual life when they would carve his +portrait on a tomb. But for Christianity the rest of the grave has +ceased to be eternal. Centuries may pass, but in the end it must be +broken. Therefore art is justified in <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg099" id="pg099">99</a></span> showing us the man himself in +an imagined state of sleep. Yet this imagined state of sleep is so +incalculably long, and by the will of God withdrawn from human +prophecy, that the ages sweeping over the dead man before the +trumpets of archangels wake him, shall sooner wear away memorial +stone than stir his slumber. It is a slumber, too, unterrified, +unentertained by dreams. Suspended animation finds no fuller +symbolism than the sculptor here presents to us in abstract +form.</p> + +<p>The boys of Montepulciano have scratched Messer Aragazzi's +sleeping figure with <i>graffiti</i> at their own free will. Yet +they have had no power to erase the poetry of Donatello's mighty +style. That, in spite of Bruni's envy, in spite of injurious time, +in spite of the still worse insult of the modernised cathedral and +the desecrated monument, embalms him in our memory and secures for +him the diuturnity for which he paid his twenty thousand crowns. +Money, methinks, beholding him, was rarely better expended on a +similar ambition. And ambition of this sort, relying on the genius +of such a master to give it wings for perpetuity of time, is, +<i>pace</i> Lionardo Bruni, not ignoble.</p> + +<p>cpposite the figure of Messer Aragazzi are two square basreliefs +from the same monument, fixed against piers of the nave. One +represents Madonna enthroned among worshippers; members, it may be +supposed, of Aragazzi's household. Three angelic children, +supporting the child Christ upon her lap, complete that pyramidal +form of composition which Fra Bartolommeo was afterwards to use +with such effect in painting. The other basrelief shows a group of +grave men and youths, clasping hands with loveliest interlacement; +the placid sentiment of human fellowship translated into harmonies +of sculptured form. Children below run up to touch their knees, and +reach out boyish <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg100" id= +"pg100">100</a></span> arms to welcome them. Two young men, with +half-draped busts and waving hair blown off their foreheads, +anticipate the type of adolescence which Andrea del Sarto perfected +in his S. John. We might imagine that this masterly panel was +intended to represent the arrival of Messer Aragazzi in his home. +It is a scene from the domestic life of the dead man, duly +subordinated to the recumbent figure, which, when the monument was +perfect, would have dominated the whole composition.</p> + +<p>Nothing in the range of Donatello's work surpasses these two +basreliefs for harmonies of line and grouping, for choice of form, +for beauty of expression, and for smoothness of surface-working. +The marble is of great delicacy, and is wrought to a wax-like +surface. At the high altar are three more fragments from the +mutilated tomb. One is a long low frieze of children bearing +garlands, which probably formed the base of Aragazzi's monument, +and now serves for a predella. The remaining pieces are detached +statues of Fortitude and Faith. The former reminds us of +Donatello's S. George; the latter is twisted into a strained +attitude, full of character, but lacking grace. What the effect of +these emblematic figures would have been when harmonised by the +architectural proportions of the sepulchre, the repose of Aragazzi +on his sarcophagus, the suavity of the two square panels and the +rhythmic beauty of the frieze, it is not easy to conjecture. But +rudely severed from their surroundings, and exposed in isolation, +one at each side of the altar, they leave an impression of awkward +discomfort on the memory. A certain hardness, peculiar to the +Florentine manner, is felt in them. But this quality may have been +intended by the sculptors for the sake of contrast with what is +eminently graceful, peaceful, and melodious in the other fragments +of the ruined masterpiece.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg101" id= +"pg101">101</a></span></p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>At a certain point in the main street, rather more than halfway +from the Albergo del Marzocco to the piazza, a tablet has been let +into the wall upon the left-hand side. This records the fact that +here in 1454 was born Angelo Ambrogini, the special glory of +Montepulciano, the greatest classical scholar and the greatest +Italian poet of the fifteenth century. He is better known in the +history of literature as Poliziano, or Politianus, a name he took +from his native city, when he came, a marvellous boy, at the age of +ten, to Florence, and joined the household of Lorenzo de' Medici. +He had already claims upon Lorenzo's hospitality. For his father, +Benedetto, by adopting the cause of Piero de' Medici in +Montepulciano, had exposed himself to bitter feuds and hatred of +his fellow-citizens. To this animosity of party warfare he fell a +victim a few years previously. We only know that he was murdered, +and that he left a helpless widow with five children, of whom +Angelo was the eldest. The Ambrogini or Cini were a family of some +importance in Montepulciano; and their dwelling-house is a palace +of considerable size. From its eastern windows the eye can sweep +that vast expanse of country, embracing the lakes of Thrasymene and +Chiusi, which has been already described. What would have happened, +we wonder, if Messer Benedetto, the learned jurist, had not +espoused the Medicean cause and embroiled himself with murderous +antagonists? Would the little Angelo have grown up in this quiet +town, and practised law, and lived and died a citizen of +Montepulciano? In that case the lecture-rooms of Florence would +never have echoed to the sonorous hexameters of the 'Rusticus' and +'Ambra.' Italian literature would have lacked the 'Stanze' and +'Orfeo.' European scholarship would have been defrauded <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg102" id="pg102">102</a></span> of the +impulse given to it by the 'Miscellanea.' The study of Roman law +would have missed those labours on the Pandects, with which the +name of Politian is honourably associated. From the Florentine +society of the fifteenth century would have disappeared the +commanding central figure of humanism, which now contrasts +dramatically with the stern monastic Prior of S. Mark. Benedetto's +tragic death gave Poliziano to Italy and to posterity.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Those who have a day to spare at Montepulciano can scarcely +spend it better than in an excursion to Pienza and San Quirico. +Leaving the city by the road which takes a westerly direction, the +first object of interest is the Church of San Biagio, placed on a +fertile plateau immediately beneath the ancient acropolis. It was +erected by Antonio di San Gallo in 1518, and is one of the most +perfect specimens existing of the sober classical style. The Church +consists of a Greek square, continued at the east end into a +semicircular tribune, surmounted by a central cupola, and flanked +by a detached bell-tower, ending in a pyramidal spire. The whole is +built of solid yellow travertine, a material which, by its warmth +of colour, is pleasing to the eye, and mitigates the mathematical +severity of the design. Upon entering, we feel at once what Alberti +called the music of this style; its large and simple harmonies, +depending for effect upon sincerity of plan and justice of balance. +The square masses of the main building, the projecting cornices and +rounded tribune, meet together and soar up into the cupola; while +the grand but austere proportions of the arches and the piers +compose a symphony of perfectly concordant lines. The music is +grave and solemn, architecturally expressed in terms of measured +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg103" id="pg103">103</a></span> +space and outlined symmetry. The whole effect is that of one thing +pleasant to look upon, agreeably appealing to our sense of unity, +charming us by grace and repose; not stimulative nor suggestive, +not multiform nor mysterious. We are reminded of the temples +imagined by Francesco Colonna, and figured in his +<i>Hypnerotomachia Poliphili</i>. One of these shrines has, we +feel, come into actual existence here; and the religious ceremonies +for which it is adapted are not those of the Christian worship. +Some more primitive, less spiritual rites, involving less of tragic +awe and deep-wrought symbolism, should be here performed. It is +better suited for Polifilo's lustration by Venus Physizoe than for +the mass on Easter morning. And in this respect, the sentiment of +the architecture is exactly faithful to that mood of religious +feeling which appeared in Italy under the influences of the +classical revival—when the essential doctrines of +Christianity were blurred with Pantheism; when Jehovah became +<i>Jupiter Optimus Maximus</i>; and Jesus was the <i>Heros</i> of +Calvary, and nuns were <i>Virgines Vestales</i>. In literature this +mood often strikes us as insincere and artificial. But it admitted +of realisation and showed itself to be profoundly felt in +architecture.</p> + +<p>After leaving Madonna di San Biagio, the road strikes at once +into an open country, expanding on the right towards the woody +ridge of Monte Fallonica, on the left toward Cetona and Radicofani, +with Monte Amiata full in front—its double crest and long +volcanic slope recalling Etna; the belt of embrowned forest on its +flank, made luminous by sunlight. Far away stretches the Sienese +Maremma; Siena dimly visible upon her gentle hill; and still +beyond, the pyramid of Volterra, huge and cloud-like, piled against +the sky. The road, as is almost invariable in this district, keeps +to the highest line of ridges, winding much, and following <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg104" id="pg104">104</a></span> the +dimplings of the earthy hills. Here and there a solitary castello, +rusty with old age, and turned into a farm, juts into +picturesqueness from some point of vantage on a mound surrounded +with green tillage. But soon the dull and intolerable <i>creta</i>, +ash-grey earth, without a vestige of vegetation, furrowed by rain, +and desolately breaking into gullies, swallows up variety and +charm. It is difficult to believe that this <i>creta</i> of +Southern Tuscany, which has all the appearance of barrenness, and +is a positive deformity in the landscape, can be really fruitful. +Yet we are frequently being told that it only needs assiduous +labour to render it enormously productive.</p> + +<p>When we reached Pienza we were already in the middle of a +country without cultivation, abandoned to the marl. It is a little +place, perched upon the ledge of a long sliding hill, which +commands the vale of Orcia; Monte Amiata soaring in aërial +majesty beyond. Its old name was Cosignano. But it had the honour +of giving birth to Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini, who, when he +was elected to the Papacy and had assumed the title of Pius II., +determined to transform and dignify his native village, and to call +it after his own name. From that time forward Cosignano has been +known as Pienza.</p> + +<p>Pius II. succeeded effectually in leaving his mark upon the +town. And this forms its main interest at the present time. We see +in Pienza how the most active-minded and intelligent man of his +epoch, the representative genius of Italy in the middle of the +fifteenth century, commanding vast wealth and the Pontifical +prestige, worked out his whim of city-building. The experiment had +to be made upon a small scale; for Pienza was then and was destined +to remain a village. Yet here, upon this miniature piazza—in +modern as in ancient Italy the meeting-point of civic life, the +forum— <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg105" id= +"pg105">105</a></span> we find a cathedral, a palace of the bishop, +a palace of the feudal lord, and a palace of the commune, arranged +upon a well-considered plan, and executed after one design in a +consistent style. The religious, municipal, signorial, and +ecclesiastical functions of the little town are centralised around +the open market-place, on which the common people transacted +business and discussed affairs. Pius entrusted the realisation of +his scheme to a Florentine architect; whether Bernardo Rossellino, +or a certain Bernardo di Lorenzo, is still uncertain. The same +artist, working in the flat manner of Florentine domestic +architecture, with rusticated basements, rounded windows and bold +projecting cornices—the manner which is so nobly illustrated +by the Rucellai and Strozzi palaces at Florence—executed also +for Pius the monumental Palazzo Piccolomini at Siena. It is a great +misfortune for the group of buildings he designed at Pienza, that +they are huddled together in close quarters on a square too small +for their effect. A want of space is peculiarly injurious to the +architecture of this date, 1462, which, itself geometrical and +spatial, demands a certain harmony and liberty in its surroundings, +a proportion between the room occupied by each building and the +masses of the edifice. The style is severe and prosaic. Those +charming episodes and accidents of fancy, in which the Gothic style +and the style of the earlier Lombard Renaissance abounded, are +wholly wanting to the rigid, mathematical, hard-headed genius of +the Florentine quattrocento. Pienza, therefore, disappoints us. Its +heavy palace frontispieces shut the spirit up in a tight box. We +seem unable to breathe, and lack that element of life and +picturesqueness which the splendid retinues of nobles in the age of +Pinturicchio might have added to the now forlorn Piazza.</p> + +<p>Yet the material is a fine warm travertine, mellowing to <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg106" id="pg106">106</a></span> dark red, +brightening to golden, with some details, especially the tower of +the Palazzo Comunale, in red brick. This building, by the way, is +imitated in miniature from that of Florence. The cathedral is a +small church of three aisles, equally high, ending in what the +French would call a <i>chevet</i>. Pius had observed this plan of +construction somewhere in Austria, and commanded his architect, +Bernardo, to observe it in his plan. He was attracted by the +facilities for window-lighting which it offered; and what is very +singular, he provided by the Bull of his foundation for keeping the +walls of the interior free from frescoes and other coloured +decorations. The result is that, though the interior effect is +pleasing, the church presents a frigid aspect to eyes familiarised +with warmth of tone in other buildings of that period. The details +of the columns and friezes are classical; and the façade, +strictly corresponding to the structure, and very honest in its +decorative elements, is also of the earlier Renaissance style. But +the vaulting and some of the windows are pointed.</p> + +<p>The Palazzo Piccolomini, standing at the right hand of the +Duomo, is a vast square edifice. The walls are flat and even, +pierced at regular intervals with windows, except upon the +south-west side, where the rectangular design is broken by a noble +double Loggiata, gallery rising above gallery—serene curves +of arches, grandly proportioned columns, massive balustrades, a +spacious corridor, a roomy vaulting—opening out upon the +palace garden, and offering fair prospect over the wooded heights +of Castiglione and Rocca d' Orcia, up to Radicofani and shadowy +Amiata. It was in these double tiers of galleries, in the garden +beneath and in the open inner square of the palazzo, that the great +life of Italian aristocracy displayed itself. Four centuries ago +these spaces, now so desolate in their immensity, echoed to the +tread of serving-men, the songs of pages; horse-hooves struck upon +the pavement <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg107" id= +"pg107">107</a></span> of the court; spurs jingled on the +staircases; the brocaded trains of ladies sweeping from their +chambers rustled on the marbles of the loggia; knights let their +hawks fly from the garden parapets; cardinals and abbreviators +gathered round the doors from which the Pope would issue, when he +rose from his siesta to take the cool of evening in those airy +colonnades. How impossible it is to realise that scene amid this +solitude! The palazzo still belongs to the Piccolomini family. But +it has fallen into something worse than ruin—the squalor of +half-starved existence, shorn of all that justified its grand +proportions. Partition-walls have been run up across its halls to +meet the requirements of our contracted modern customs. Nothing +remains of the original decorations except one carved +chimney-piece, an emblazoned shield, and a frescoed portrait of the +founder. All movable treasures have been made away with. And yet +the carved heraldics of the exterior, the coat of Piccolomini, +'argent, on a cross azure five crescents or,' the Papal ensigns, +keys, and tiara, and the monogram of Pius, prove that this country +dwelling of a Pope must once have been rich in details befitting +its magnificence. With the exception of the very small portion +reserved for the Signori, when they visit Pienza, the palace has +become a granary for country produce in a starveling land. There +was one redeeming point about it to my mind. That was the handsome +young man, with earnest Tuscan eyes and a wonderfully sweet voice, +the servant of the Piccolomini family, who lives here with his +crippled father, and who showed us over the apartments.</p> + +<p>We left Pienza and drove on to S. Quirico, through the same +wrinkled wilderness of marl; wasteful, uncultivated, bare to every +wind that blows. A cruel blast was sweeping from the sea, and Monte +Amiata darkened with rain-clouds. Still the pictures, which formed +themselves at intervals, as we <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg108" id="pg108">108</a></span> wound along these barren ridges, +were very fair to look upon, especially one not far from S. +Quirico. It had for fore-ground a stretch of +tilth—olive-trees, honeysuckle hedges, and cypresses. Beyond +soared Amiata in all its breadth and blue air-blackness, bearing on +its mighty flanks the broken cliffs and tufted woods of Castiglione +and the Rocca d'Orcia; eagles' nests emerging from a fertile +valley-champaign, into which the eye was led for rest. It so +chanced that a band of sunlight, escaping from filmy clouds, +touched this picture with silvery greys and soft greens—a +suffusion of vaporous radiance, which made it for one moment a +Claude landscape.</p> + +<p>S. Quirico was keeping <i>festa</i>. The streets were crowded +with healthy, handsome men and women from the contado. This village +lies on the edge of a great oasis in the Sienese desert—an +oasis formed by the waters of the Orcia and Asso sweeping down to +join Ombrone, and stretching on to Montalcino. We put up at the +sign of the 'Two Hares,' where a notable housewife gave us a dinner +of all we could desire; <i>frittata di cervello</i>, good fish, +roast lamb stuffed with rosemary, salad and cheese, with excellent +wine and black coffee, at the rate of three <i>lire</i> a head.</p> + +<p>The attraction of S. Quirico is its gem-like little collegiata, +a Lombard church of the ninth century, with carved portals of the +thirteenth. It is built of golden travertine; some details in brown +sandstone. The western and southern portals have pillars resting on +the backs of lions. On the western side these pillars are four +slender columns, linked by snake-like ligatures. On the southern +side they consist of two carved figures—possibly S. John and +the Archangel Michael. There is great freedom and beauty in these +statues, as also in the lions which support them, recalling the +early French and German manner. In addition, one finds the <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg109" id="pg109">109</a></span> usual +Lombard grotesques—two sea-monsters, biting each other; +harpy-birds; a dragon with a twisted tail; little men grinning and +squatting in adaptation to coigns and angles of the windows. The +toothed and chevron patterns of the north are quaintly blent with +rude acanthus scrolls and classical egg-mouldings. Over the western +porch is a Gothic rose window. Altogether this church must be +reckoned one of the most curious specimens of that hybrid +architecture, fusing and appropriating different manners, which +perplexes the student in Central Italy. It seems strangely out of +place in Tuscany. Yet, if what one reads of Toscanella, a village +between Viterbo and Orbetello, be true, there exist examples of a +similar fantastic Lombard style even lower down.</p> + +<p>The interior was most disastrously gutted and 'restored' in +1731: its open wooden roof masked by a false stucco vaulting. A few +relics, spared by the eighteenth-century Vandals, show that the +church was once rich in antique curiosities. A marble knight in +armour lies on his back, half hidden by the pulpit stairs. And in +the choir are half a dozen rarely beautiful panels of tarsia, +executed in a bold style and on a large scale. One design—a +man throwing his face back, and singing, while he plays a +mandoline; with long thick hair and fanciful beretta; behind him a +fine line of cypress and other trees—struck me as singularly +lovely. In another I noticed a branch of peach, broad leaves and +ripe fruit, not only drawn with remarkable grace and power, but so +modelled as to stand out with the roundness of reality.</p> + +<p>The whole drive of three hours back to Montepulciano was one +long banquet of inimitable distant views. Next morning, having to +take farewell of the place, we climbed to the Castello, or +<i>arx</i> of the old city! It is a ruined spot, outside the +present walls, upon the southern slope, where there is now a farm, +and a fair space of short sheep-cropped turf, very green and <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg110" id="pg110">110</a></span> grassy, +and gemmed with little pink geraniums as in England in such places. +The walls of the old castle, overgrown with ivy, are broken down to +their foundations. This may possibly have been done when +Montepulciano was dismantled by the Sienese in 1232. At that date +the Commune succumbed to its more powerful neighbours. The half of +its inhabitants were murdered, and its fortifications were +destroyed. Such episodes are common enough in the history of that +internecine struggle for existence between the Italian +municipalities, which preceded the more famous strife of Guelfs and +Ghibellines. Stretched upon the smooth turf of the Castello, we +bade adieu to the divine landscape bathed in light and mountain +air—to Thrasymene and Chiusi and Cetona; to Amiata, Pienza, +and S. Quirico; to Montalcino and the mountains of Volterra; to +Siena and Cortona; and, closer, to Monte Fallonica, Madonna di +Biagio, the house-roofs and the Palazzo tower of Montepulciano.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg111" id= +"pg111">111</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="PERUGIA" id="PERUGIA" /><i>PERUGIA</i></h3> + +<p>Perugia is the empress of hill-set Italian cities. Southward +from her high-built battlements and church towers the eye can sweep +a circuit of the Apennines unrivalled in its width. From cloudlike +Radicofani, above Siena in the west, to snow-capped Monte Catria, +beneath whose summit Dante spent those saddest months of solitude +in 1313, the mountains curve continuously in lines of austere +dignity and tempered sweetness. Assisi, Spoleto, Todi, Trevi, crown +lesser heights within the range of vision. Here and there the +glimpse of distant rivers lights a silver spark upon the plain. +Those hills conceal Lake Thrasymene; and there lies Orvieto, and +Ancona there: while at our feet the Umbrian champaign, breaking +away into the valley of the Tiber, spreads in all the largeness of +majestically converging mountain-slopes. This is a landscape which +can never lose its charm. Whether it be purple golden summer, or +winter with sad tints of russet woods and faintly rosy snows, or +spring attired in tenderest green of new-fledged trees and budding +flowers, the air is always pure and light and finely tempered here. +City gates, sombre as their own antiquity, frame vistas of the +laughing fields. Terraces, flanked on either side by jutting +masonry, cut clear vignettes of olive-hoary slopes, with +cypress-shadowed farms in hollows of the hills. Each coign or point +of vantage carries a bastion or tower of Etruscan, Roman, +mediæval architecture, tracing the limits of the town upon +its mountain plateau. Everywhere <a name="pg112" id= +"pg112"></a><span class="pagenum">112</span> art and nature lie +side by side in amity beneath a sky so pure and delicate, that from +its limpid depth the spirit seems to drink new life. What air-tints +of lilac, orange, and pale amethyst are shed upon those vast +ethereal hills and undulating plains! What wandering cloud-shadows +sail across this sea of olives and of vines, with here and there a +fleece of vapour or a column of blue smoke from charcoal burners on +the mountain flank! To southward, far away beyond those hills, is +felt the presence of eternal Rome, not seen, but clearly indicated +by the hurrying of a hundred streams that swell the Tiber.</p> + +<p>In the neighbourhood of the town itself there is plenty to +attract the student of antiquities, or art, or history. He may +trace the walls of the Etruscan city, and explore the vaults where +the dust of the Volumnii lies coffered in sarcophagi and urns. Mild +faces of grave deities lean from the living tufa above those narrow +alcoves, where the chisel-marks are still fresh, and where the +vigilant lamps still hang suspended from the roof by leaden chains. +Or, in the Museum, he may read on basreliefs and vases how gloomy +and morose were the superstitions of those obscure forerunners of +majestic Rome. The piazza offers one of the most perfect Gothic +façades, in its Palazzo Pubblico, to be found in Italy. The +flight of marble steps is guarded from above by the bronze griffin +of Perugia and the Baglioni, with the bronze lion of the Guelf +faction, to which the town was ever faithful. Upon their marble +brackets they ramp in all the lean ferocity of feudal heraldry, and +from their claws hang down the chains wrested in old warfare from +some barricaded gateway of Siena. Below is the fountain, on the +many-sided curves of which Giovanni Pisano sculptured, in quaint +statuettes and basreliefs, all the learning of the middle ages, +from the Bible history down to fables of Æsop and allegories +of the several months. Facing the same piazza <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg113" id="pg113">113</a></span> is the Sala del +Cambio, a mediæval Bourse, with its tribunal for the +settlement of mercantile disputes, and its exquisite carved +woodwork and frescoes, the masterpiece of Perugino's school. Hard +by is the University, once crowded with native and foreign +students, where the eloquence of Greek Demetrius in the first dawn +of the Renaissance withdrew the gallants of Perugia—those +slim youths with shocks of nut-brown hair beneath their tiny red +caps, whose comely legs, encased in tight-fitting hose of two +different colours, looked so strange to modern eyes upon the canvas +of Signorelli—from their dice and wine-cups, and amours and +daggers, to grave studies in the lore of Greece and Rome.</p> + +<p>This piazza, the scene of all the bloodiest tragedies in +Perugian annals, is closed at the north end by the Cathedral, with +the open pulpit in its wall from which S. Bernardino of Siena +preached peace in vain. The citizens wept to hear his words: a +bonfire of vanities was lighted on the flags beside Pisano's +fountain: foe kissed foe: and the same cowl of S. Francis was set +in token of repentance on heads that long had schemed destruction, +each for each. But a few days passed, and the penitents returned to +cut each other's throat. Often and often have those steps of the +Duomo run with blood of Baglioni, Oddi, Arcipreti, and La Staffa. +Once the whole church had to be washed with wine and blessed anew +before the rites of Christianity could be resumed in its desecrated +aisles. It was here that within the space of two days, in 1500, the +catafalque was raised for the murdered Astorre, and for his +traitorous cousin Grifonetto Baglioni. Here, too, if more ancient +tradition does not err, were stretched the corpses of twenty-seven +members of the same great house at the end of one of their grim +combats.</p> + +<p>No Italian city illustrates more forcibly than Perugia the +violent contrasts of the earlier Renaissance. This is perhaps <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg114" id="pg114">114</a></span> its most +essential characteristic—that which constitutes its chief +æsthetic interest. To many travellers the name of Perugia +suggests at once the painter who, more than any other, gave +expression to devout emotions in consummate works of pietistic art. +They remember how Raphael, when a boy, with Pinturicchio, Lo +Spagna, and Adone Doni, in the workshop of Pietro Perugino, learned +the secret of that style to which he gave sublimity and freedom in +his Madonnas di San Sisto, di Foligno, and del Cardellino. But the +students of mediæval history in detail know Perugia far +better as the lion's lair of one of the most ferocious broods of +heroic ruffians Italy can boast. To them the name of Perugia +suggests at once the great house of the Baglioni, who drenched +Umbria with blood, and gave the broad fields of Assisi to the wolf, +and who through six successive generations bred captains for the +armies of Venice, Florence, Naples, and the Church.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_11" id="FNanchor_1_11" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_11" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> That the trade of +Perugino in religious pictures should have been carried on in the +city which shared the factions of the Baglioni—that Raphael +should have been painting Pietas while Astorre and Simonetto were +being murdered by the beautiful young Grifonetto—is a paradox +of the purest water in the history of civilisation.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_11" id="Footnote_1_11" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_11"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Most of +the references in this essay are made to the Perugian chronicles of +Graziani, Matarazzo, Bontempi, and Frolliere, in the <i>Archivio +Storico Italiano</i>, vol. xvi. parts 1 and 2. Ariodante Fabretti's +<i>Biografie dei Capitani Venturieri dell' Umbria</i> supply some +details.</p> +</div> + +<p>The art of Perugino implied a large number of devout and wealthy +patrons, a public not only capable of comprehending him, but also +eager to restrict his great powers within the limits of purely +devotional delineation. The feuds and passions of the Baglioni, on +the other hand, implied a society in which egregious crimes only +needed success to be accounted glorious, where force, cruelty, and +cynical craft reigned <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg115" id= +"pg115">115</a></span> supreme, and where the animal instincts +attained gigantic proportions in the persons of splendid young +athletic despots. Even the names of these Baglioni, Astorre, +Lavinia, Zenobia, Atalanta, Troilo, Ercole, Annibale, Ascanio, +Penelope, Orazio, and so forth, clash with the sweet mild forms of +Perugino, whose very executioners are candidates for Paradise, and +kill their martyrs with compunction.</p> + +<p>In Italy of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries such +contradictions subsisted in the same place and under the conditions +of a common culture, because there was no limit to the development +of personality. Character was far more absolute then than now. The +force of the modern world, working in the men of those times like +powerful wine, as yet displayed itself only as a spirit of freedom +and expansion and revolt. The strait laces of mediæval +Christianity were loosened. The coercive action of public opinion +had not yet made itself dominant. That was an age of adolescence, +in which men were and dared to be <i>themselves</i> for good or +evil. Hypocrisy, except for some solid, well-defined, selfish +purpose, was unknown: the deference to established canons of +decorum which constitutes more than half of our so-called morality, +would have been scarcely intelligible to an Italian. The outlines +of individuality were therefore strongly accentuated. Life itself +was dramatic in its incidents and motives, its catastrophes and +contrasts. These conditions, eminently favourable to the growth of +arts and the pursuit of science, were no less conducive to the +hypertrophy of passions, and to the full development of ferocious +and inhuman personalities. Every man did what seemed good in his +own eyes. Far less restrained than we are by the verdict of his +neighbours, but bound by faith more blind and fiercer +superstitions, he displayed the contradictions of his character in +picturesque chiaroscuro. What he could was the limit set on what +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg116" id="pg116">116</a></span> he +would. Therefore, considering the infinite varieties of human +temperaments, it was not merely possible, but natural, for Pietro +Perugino and Gianpaolo Baglioni to be inhabitants at the same time +of the selfsame city, and for the pious Atalanta to mourn the +bloodshed and the treason of her Achillean son, the young and +terrible Grifone. Here, in a word, in Perugia, beneath the fierce +blaze of the Renaissance, were brought into splendid contrast both +the martial violence and the religious sentiment of +mediævalism, raised for a moment to the elevation of fine +art.</p> + +<p>Some of Perugino's qualities can be studied better in Perugia +than elsewhere. Of his purely religious pictures—altar-pieces +of Madonna and Saints, martyrdoms of S. Sebastian, Crucifixions, +Ascensions, Annunciations, and Depositions from the +Cross,—fine specimens are exhibited in nearly all the +galleries of Europe. A large number of his works and of those of +his scholars may be seen assembled in the Pinacoteca of Perugia. +Yet the student of his pietistic style finds little here of novelty +to notice. It is in the Sala del Cambio that we gain a really new +conception of his faculty. Upon the decoration of that little hall +he concentrated all his powers of invention. The frescoes of the +Transfiguration and the Nativity, which face the great door, are +the triumphs of his devotional manner. On other panels of the +chamber he has portrayed the philosophers of Greece and Rome, the +kings and generals of antiquity, the prophets and the sibyls who +announced Christ's advent. The roof is covered with arabesques of +delicate design and dainty execution—labyrinths of fanciful +improvisation, in which flowers and foliage and human forms are +woven into a harmonious framework for the medallions of the seven +planets. The woodwork with which the hall is lined below the +frescoes, shows to what a point of perfection the art of +intarsiatura had <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg117" id= +"pg117">117</a></span> been carried in his school. All these +decorative masterpieces are the product of one ingenuous style. +Uninfluenced by the Roman frescoes imitated by Raphael in his +Loggie of the Vatican, they breathe the spirit of the earlier +Renaissance, which created for itself free forms of grace and +loveliness without a pattern, divining by its innate sense of +beauty what the classic artists had achieved. Take for an example +the medallion of the planet Jupiter. The king of gods and men, +hoary-headed and mild-eyed, is seated in his chariot drawn by +eagles: before him kneels Ganymede, a fair-haired, exquisite, slim +page, with floating mantle and ribbands fluttering round his tight +hose and jerkin. Such were the cup-bearers of Galeazzo Sforza and +Gianpaolo Baglioni. Then compare this fresco with the Jupiter in +mosaic upon the cupola of the Chigi chapel in S. Maria del Popolo +at Rome. A new age of experience had passed over Raphael between +his execution of Perugino's design in the one and his conception of +the other. He had seen the marbles of the Vatican, and had heard of +Plato in the interval: the simple graces of the earlier Renaissance +were no longer enough for him; but he must realise the thought of +classic myths in his new manner. In the same way we may compare +this Transfiguration with Raphael's last picture, these sibyls with +those of S. Maria della Pace, these sages with the School of +Athens, these warriors with the Battle of Maxentius. What is +characteristic of the full-grown Raphael is his universal +comprehension, his royal faculty for representing past and present, +near and distant, things the most diverse, by forms ideal and yet +distinctive. Each phase of the world's history and of human +activity receives from him appropriate and elevated expression. +What is characteristic of the frescoes in the Sala del Cambio, and +indeed of the whole manner of Perugino, is that all subjects, +sacred or secular, allegorical or real, are <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg118" id="pg118">118</a></span> conceived in +the same spirit of restrained and well-bred piety. There is no +attempt at historical propriety or dramatic realism. Grave, +ascetic, melancholy faces of saints are put on bodies of kings, +generals, sages, sibyls, and deities alike. The same ribbands and +studied draperies clothe and connect all. The same conventional +attitudes of meditative gracefulness are repeated in each group. +Yet, the whole effect, if somewhat feeble and insipid, is +harmonious and thoughtful. We see that each part has proceeded from +the same mind, in the same mood, and that the master's mind was no +common one, the mood itself was noble. Good taste is everywhere +apparent: the work throughout is a masterpiece of refined +fancy.</p> + +<p>To Perugino the representative imagination was of less +importance than a certain delicate and adequately ideal mode of +feeling and conceiving. The consequent charm of his style is that +everything is thought out and rendered visible in one decorous key. +The worst that can be said of it is that its suavity inclines to +mawkishness, and that its quietism borders upon sleepiness. We find +it difficult not to accuse him of affectation. At the same time we +are forced to allow that what he did, and what he refrained from +doing, was determined by a purpose. A fresco of the Adoration of +the Shepherds, and a picture of S. Sebastian in the Pinacoteca, +where the archer on the right hand is drawn in a natural attitude +with force and truth, show well enough what Perugino could do when +he chose.</p> + +<p>The best way of explaining his conventionality, in which the +supreme power of a master is always verging on the facile trick of +a mannerist, is to suppose that the people of Perugia and the +Umbrian highlands imposed on him this narrow mode of treatment. We +may presume that he was always receiving orders for pictures to be +executed in his well-known manner. <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg119" id="pg119">119</a></span> Celestial insipidity in art was +the fashion in that Umbria which the Baglioni and the Popes laid +waste from time to time with fire and sword.<a name="FNanchor_1_12" +id="FNanchor_1_12" /><a href="#Footnote_1_12" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_12" id="Footnote_1_12" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_12"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It will +not be forgotten by students of Italian history that Umbria was the +cradle of the <i>Battuti</i> or Flagellants, who overspread Italy +in the fourteenth century, and to whose devotion were due the +<i>Laude</i>, or popular hymns of the religious confraternities, +which in course of time produced the <i>Sacre Rappresentazioni</i> +of fifteenth-century Florentine literature. Umbria, and especially +Perugia and Assisi, seems to have been inventive in piety between +1200 and 1400.</p> +</div> + +<p>Therefore the painter who had made his reputation by placing +devout young faces upon twisted necks, with a back-ground of limpid +twilight and calm landscape, was forced by the fervour of his +patrons, and his own desire for money, to perpetuate pious +prettinesses long after he had ceased to feel them. It is just this +widespread popularity of a master unrivalled in one line of +devotional sentimentalism which makes the contrast between Perugino +and the Baglioni family so striking.</p> + +<p>The Baglioni first came into notice during the wars they carried +on with the Oddi of Perugia in the fourteenth and fifteenth +centuries.<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> This was one of +those duels to the death, like that of the Visconti with the +Torrensi of Milan, on which the fate of so many Italian cities in +the middle ages hung. The nobles fought; the townsfolk assisted +like a Greek chorus, sharing the passions of the actors, but +contributing little to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg120" +id="pg120">120</a></span> catastrophe. The piazza was the theatre +on which the tragedy was played. In this contest the Baglioni +proved the stronger, and began to sway the state of Perugia after +the irregular fashion of Italian despots. They had no legal right +over the city, no hereditary magistracy, no title of princely +authority.<a name="FNanchor_2_14" id="FNanchor_2_14" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_14" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> The Church was +reckoned the supreme administrator of the Perugian commonwealth. +But in reality no man could set foot on the Umbrian plain without +permission from the Baglioni. They elected the officers of state. +The lives and goods of the citizens were at their discretion. When +a Papal legate showed his face, they made the town too hot to hold +him. One of Innocent VIII.'s nephews had been murdered by them.<a +name="FNanchor_3_15" id="FNanchor_3_15" /><a href= +"#Footnote_3_15" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Another cardinal +had shut himself up in a box, and sneaked on mule-back like a bale +of merchandise through the gates to escape their fury. It was in +vain that from time to time the people rose against them, +massacring Pandolfo Baglioni on the public square in 1393, and +joining with Ridolfo and Braccio of the dominant house to +assassinate another Pandolfo with his son Niccolo in 1460. The more +they were cut down, the more they flourished. The wealth they +derived from their lordships in the duchy of Spoleto and the +Umbrian hill-cities, and the treasures they accumulated in the +service of the Italian republics, made them omnipotent in their +native town. There they built tall houses on the site which Paul +III. chose afterwards for his <i>castello</i>, and which is now an +open place above the Porta San Carlo. From the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg121" id="pg121">121</a></span> balconies and +turrets of these palaces, swarming with their <i>bravi</i>, they +surveyed the splendid land that felt their force—a land +which, even in midsummer, from sunrise to sunset keeps the light of +day upon its up-turned face. And from this eyrie they issued forth +to prey upon the plain, or to take their lust of love or blood +within the city streets. The Baglioni spent but short time in the +amusements of peace. From father to son they were warriors, and we +have records of few Italian houses, except perhaps the Malatesti of +Rimini, who equalled them in hardihood and fierceness. Especially +were they noted for the remorseless <i>vendette</i> which they +carried on among themselves, cousin tracking cousin to death with +the ferocity and craft of sleuthhounds. Had they restrained these +fratricidal passions, they might, perhaps, by following some common +policy, like that of the Medici in Florence or the Bentivogli in +Bologna, have successfully resisted the Papal authority and secured +dynastic sovereignty.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +Baglioni persecuted their rivals with persistent fury to the very +last. Matarazzo tells how Morgante Baglioni gave a death-wound to +his nephew, the young Carlo de li Oddi, in 1501: 'Dielli una ferita +nella formosa faccia: el quale era in aspetto vago e bello giovane +d' anni 23 o 24, <i>al quale uscivano e bionde tresse sotto la +bella armadura</i>.' The same night his kinsman Pompeo was murdered +in prison with this last lament upon his lips: 'O infelice casa +degli Oddi, quale aveste tanta, fama di conduttieri, capitanie, +cavaliere, speron d' oro, protonotarie, e abbate; et in uno solo +tempo aveste homine quarantadue; e oggie, per me quale son ultimo, +se asconde el nome de la magnifica e famosa casa degli Oddi, che +mai al mondo non serà píu nominata' (p. 175).</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_14" id="Footnote_2_14" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_14"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The +Baglioni were lords of Spello, Bettona, Montalera, and other +Umbrian burghs, but never of Perugia. Perugia had a civic +constitution similar to that of Florence and other Guelf towns +under the protection of the Holy See. The power of the eminent +house was based only on wealth and prestige.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_15" id="Footnote_3_15" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_3_15"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See +Matarazzo, <a href="#pg038">p. 38</a>. It is here that he +relates the covert threat addressed by Guido Baglioni to Alexander +VI., who was seeking to inveigle him into his clutches.</p> +</div> + +<p>It is not until 1495 that the history of the Baglioni becomes +dramatic, possibly because till then they lacked the pen of +Matarazzo.<a name="FNanchor_1_16" id="FNanchor_1_16" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_16" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But from this +year forward to their final extinction, every detail of their +doings has a picturesque and awful interest. Domestic furies, like +the revel descried by Cassandra above the palace of Mycenæ, +seem to take possession of the fated house; and the doom which has +fallen on them is worked out with pitiless exactitude to the last +generation. In 1495 the heads of the Casa Baglioni were two +brothers, Guido and Ridolfo, who had a numerous progeny of heroic +sons. From Guido sprang Astorre, Adriano, called for his <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg122" id="pg122">122</a></span> great +strength Morgante,<a name="FNanchor_2_17" id="FNanchor_2_17" /><a +href="#Footnote_2_17" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Gismondo, +Marcantonio, and Gentile. Ridolfo owned Troilo, Gianpaolo, and +Simonetto. The first glimpse we get of these young athletes in +Matarazzo's chronicle is on the occasion of a sudden assault upon +Perugia, made by the Oddi and the exiles of their faction in +September 1495. The foes of the Baglioni entered the gates, and +began breaking the iron chains, <i>serragli</i>, which barred the +streets against advancing cavalry. None of the noble house were on +the alert except young Simonetto, a lad of eighteen, fierce and +cruel, who had not yet begun to shave his chin.<a name= +"FNanchor_3_18" id="FNanchor_3_18" /><a href= +"#Footnote_3_18" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> In spite of all +dissuasion, he rushed forth alone, bareheaded, in his shirt, with a +sword in his right hand and a buckler on his arm, and fought +against a squadron. There at the barrier of the piazza he kept his +foes at bay, smiting men-at-arms to the ground with the sweep of +his tremendous sword, and receiving on his gentle body twenty-two +cruel wounds. While thus at fearful odds, the noble Astorre mounted +his charger and joined him. Upon his helmet flashed the falcon of +the Baglioni with the dragon's tail that swept behind. Bidding +Simonetto tend his wounds, he in his turn held the square.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_16" id="Footnote_1_16" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_16"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> His +chronicle is a masterpiece of naïve, unstudied narrative. Few +documents are so important for the student of the sixteenth century +in Italy. Whether it be really the work of Matarazzo or Maturanzio, +the distinguished humanist, is more than doubtful. The writer seems +to me as yet unspoiled by classic studies and the pedantries of +imitation.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_17" id="Footnote_2_17" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_17"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This +name, it may be incidentally mentioned, proves the wide-spread +popularity of Pulci's poem, the <i>Morgante Maggiore</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_18" id="Footnote_3_18" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_3_18"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 'Era +costui al presente di anni 18 o 19; ancora non se radeva barba; e +mostrava tanta forza e tanto ardire, e era tanto adatto nel fatto +d' arme, che era gran maraveglia; e iostrava cum tanta gintilezza e +gagliardia, che homo del mondo non l' aria mai creso; et aria dato +con la punta de la lancia in nel fondo d' uno bicchiere da la +mattina a la sera,' &c. (p. 50).</p> +</div> + +<p>Listen to Matarazzo's description of the scene; it is as good as +any piece of the 'Mort Arthur:'—'According to the report of +one who told me what he had seen with his own eyes, never did anvil +take so many blows as he upon his person and his steed; and they +all kept striking at his lordship in <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg123" id="pg123">123</a></span> such crowds that the one +prevented the other. And so many lances, partisans, and crossbow +quarries, and other weapons, made upon his body a most mighty din, +that above every other noise and shout was heard the thud of those +great strokes. But he, like one who had the mastery of war, set his +charger where the press was thickest, jostling now one, and now +another; so that he ever kept at least ten men of his foes +stretched on the ground beneath his horse's hoofs; which horse was +a most fierce beast, and gave his enemies what trouble he best +could. And now that gentle lord was all fordone with sweat and +toil, he and his charger; and so weary were they that scarcely +could they any longer breathe.'</p> + +<p>Soon after, the Baglioni mustered in force. One by one their +heroes rushed from the palaces. The enemy were driven back with +slaughter; and a war ensued, which made the fair land between +Assisi and Perugia a wilderness for many months. It must not be +forgotten that, at the time of these great feats of Simonetto and +Astorre, young Raphael was painting in the studio of Perugino. What +the whole city witnessed with astonishment and admiration, he, the +keenly sensitive artist-boy, treasured in his memory. Therefore in +the S. George of the Louvre, and in the mounted horseman trampling +upon Heliodorus in the Stanze of the Vatican, victorious Astorre +lives for ever, immortalised in all his splendour by the painter's +art. The grinning griffin on the helmet, the resistless frown upon +the forehead of the beardless knight, the terrible right arm, and +the ferocious steed,—all are there as Raphael saw and wrote +them on his brain. One characteristic of the Baglioni, as might be +plentifully illustrated from their annalist, was their eminent +beauty, which inspired beholders with an enthusiasm and a love they +were far from deserving by their virtues. It is this, in +combination with their personal heroism, which gives a peculiarly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg124" id="pg124">124</a></span> +dramatic interest to their doings, and makes the chronicle of +Matarazzo more fascinating than a novel. He seems unable to write +about them without using the language of an adoring lover.</p> + +<p>In the affair of 1495 the Baglioni were at amity among +themselves. When they next appear upon the scene, they are engaged +in deadly feud. Cousin has set his hand to the throat of cousin, +and the two heroes of the piazza are destined to be slain by +foulest treachery of their own kin. It must be premised that +besides the sons of Guido and Ridolfo already named, the great +house counted among its most distinguished members a young Grifone, +or Grifonetto, the son of Grifone and Atalanta Baglioni. Both his +father and grandfather had died violent deaths in the prime of +their youth; Galeotto, the father of Atalanta, by poison, and +Grifone by the knife at Ponte Ricciolo in 1477. Atalanta was left a +young widow with one only son, this Grifonetto, whom Matarazzo +calls 'un altro Ganimede,' and who combined the wealth of two chief +branches of the Baglioni. In 1500, when the events about to be +related took place, he was quite a youth. Brave, rich, handsome, +and married to a young wife, Zenobia Sforza, he was the admiration +of Perugia. He and his wife loved each other dearly; and how, +indeed, could it be otherwise, since 'l' uno e l' altro sembravano +doi angioli di Paradiso?' At the same time he had fallen into the +hands of bad and desperate counsellors. A bastard of the house, +Filippo da Braccio, his half-uncle, was always at his side, +instructing him not only in the accomplishments of chivalry, but +also in wild ways that brought his name into disrepute. Another of +his familiars was Carlo Barciglia Baglioni, an unquiet spirit, who +longed for more power than his poverty and comparative obscurity +allowed. With them associated Jeronimo della Penna, a veritable +ruffian, contaminated from his earliest <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg125" id="pg125">125</a></span> youth with every form of +lust and violence, and capable of any crime.<a name="FNanchor_1_19" +id="FNanchor_1_19" /><a href="#Footnote_1_19" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> These three companions, instigated partly by the +Lord of Camerino and partly by their own cupidity, conceived a +scheme for massacring the families of Guido and Ridolfo at one +blow. As a consequence of this wholesale murder, Perugia would be +at their discretion. Seeing of what use Grifonetto by his wealth +and name might be to them, they did all they could to persuade him +to join their conjuration. It would appear that the bait first +offered him was the sovereignty of the city, but that he was at +last gained over by being made to believe that his wife Zenobia had +carried on an intrigue with Gianpaolo Baglioni. The dissolute +morals of the family gave plausibility to an infernal trick which +worked upon the jealousy of Grifonetto. Thirsting for revenge, he +consented to the scheme. The conspirators were further fortified by +the accession of Jeronimo della Staffa, and three members of the +House of Corgna. It is noticeable that out of the whole number only +two, Bernardo da Corgna and Filippo da Braccio, were above the age +of thirty. Of the rest, few had reached twenty-five. At so early an +age were the men of those times adepts in violence and treason. The +execution of the plot was fixed for the wedding festivities of +Astorre Baglioni with Lavinia, the daughter of Giovanni Colonna and +Giustina Orsini. At that time the whole Baglioni family were to be +assembled in Perugia, with the single exception of Marcantonio, who +was taking baths at Naples for his health. It was known that the +members of the noble house, nearly all of them condottieri by +trade, and eminent for their great strength <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg126" id="pg126">126</a></span> and skill in +arms, took few precautions for their safety. They occupied several +houses close together between the Porta San Carlo and the Porta +Eburnea, set no regular guard over their sleeping chambers, and +trusted to their personal bravery, and to the fidelity of their +attendants.<a name="FNanchor_2_20" id="FNanchor_2_20" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_20" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> It was thought +that they might be assassinated in their beds. The wedding +festivities began upon the 28th of July, and great is the +particularity with which Matarazzo describes the doings of each +successive day—processions, jousts, triumphal arches, +banquets, balls, and pageants. The night of the 14th of August was +finally set apart for the consummation of <i>el gran +tradimento</i>: it is thus that Matarazzo always alludes to the +crime of Grifonetto with a solemnity of reiteration that is most +impressive. A heavy stone let fall into the courtyard of Guido +Baglioni's palace was to be the signal: each conspirator was then +to run to the sleeping chamber of his appointed prey. Two of the +principals and fifteen bravi were told off to each victim: rams and +crowbars were prepared to force the doors, if needful. All happened +as had been anticipated. The crash of the falling stone was heard. +The conspirators rushed to the scene of operations. Astorre, who +was sleeping in the house of his traitorous cousin Grifonetto, was +slain in the arms of his young bride, crying, as he vainly +struggled, 'Misero Astorre che more come poltrone!' Simonetto, who +lay that night with a lad called Paolo he greatly loved, flew to +arms, exclaiming to his brother, 'Non dubitare Gismondo, mio +fratello!' He too was soon despatched, together with his bedfellow. +Filippo da Braccio, after killing him, tore from a great wound in +his side the still quivering heart, into which <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg127" id="pg127">127</a></span> he drove his +teeth with savage fury. Old Guido died groaning, 'Ora è +gionto il ponto mio;' and Gismondo's throat was cut while he lay +holding back his face that he might be spared the sight of his own +massacre. The corpses of Astorre and Simonetto were stripped and +thrown out naked into the streets. Men gathered round and marvelled +to see such heroic forms, with faces so proud and fierce even in +death. In especial the foreign students likened them to ancient +Romans.<a name="FNanchor_3_21" id="FNanchor_3_21" /><a href= +"#Footnote_3_21" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> But on their +fingers were rings, and these the ruffians of the place would fain +have hacked off with their knives. From this indignity the noble +limbs were spared; then the dead Baglioni were hurriedly consigned +to an unhonoured tomb. Meanwhile the rest of the intended victims +managed to escape. Gianpaolo, assailed by Grifonetto and +Gianfrancesco della Corgna, took refuge with his squire and +bedfellow, Maraglia, upon a staircase leading from his room. While +the squire held the passage with his pike against the foe, +Gianpaolo effected his flight over neighbouring house-roofs. He +crept into the attic of some foreign students, who, trembling with +terror, gave him food and shelter, clad him in a scholar's gown, +and helped him to fly in this disguise from the gates at dawn. He +then joined his brother Troilo at Marsciano, whence he returned +without delay to punish the traitors. At the same time Grifonetto's +mother, Atalanta, taking with her his wife Zenobia and the two +young sons of Gianpaolo, Malatesta and Orazio, afterwards so +celebrated in Italian history for their great feats of arms and +their crimes, fled to her country-house at Landona. Grifonetto in +vain <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg128" id= +"pg128">128</a></span> sought to see her there. She drove him from +her presence with curses for the treason and the fratricide that he +had planned. It is very characteristic of these wild natures, +framed of fierce instincts and discordant passions, that his +mother's curse weighed like lead upon the unfortunate young man. +Next day, when Gianpaolo returned to try the luck of arms, +Grifonetto, deserted by the companions of his crime and paralysed +by the sense of his guilt, went out alone to meet him on the public +place. The semi-failure of their scheme had terrified the +conspirators: the horrors of that night of blood unnerved them. All +had fled except the next victim of the feud. Putting his sword to +the youth's throat, Gianpaolo looked into his eyes and said, 'Art +thou here, Grifonetto? Go with God's peace: I will not slay thee, +nor plunge my hand in my own blood, as thou hast done in thine.' +Then he turned and left the lad to be hacked in pieces by his +guard. The untranslatable words which Matarazzo uses to describe +his death are touching from the strong impression they convey of +Grifonetto's goodliness: 'Qui ebbe sua signoria sopra sua nobile +persona tante ferite che suoi membra leggiadre stese in terra.'<a +name="FNanchor_4_22" id="FNanchor_4_22" /><a href= +"#Footnote_4_22" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> None but Greeks +felt the charm of personal beauty thus. But while Grifonetto was +breathing out his life upon the pavement of the piazza, his mother +Atalanta and his wife Zenobia came to greet him through the +awe-struck city. As they approached, all men fell aside and slunk +away before their grief. None would seem to have had a share in +Grifonetto's murder. Then Atalanta knelt by her dying son, and +ceased from wailing, and prayed and exhorted him to pardon those +who had caused his death. It appears that Grifonetto was too weak +to speak, but that he made a signal of assent, and received his +mother's blessing at the last: <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg129" id="pg129">129</a></span> 'E allora porse el nobil +giovenetto la dextra mano a la sua giovenile matre strengendo de +sua matre la bianca mano; e poi incontinente spirò l' anima +dal formoso corpo, e passò cum infinite benedizioni de sua +matre in cambio de la maledictione che prima li aveva date.'<a +name="FNanchor_5_23" id="FNanchor_5_23" /><a href= +"#Footnote_5_23" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Here again the +style of Matarazzo, tender and full of tears, conveys the keenest +sense of the pathos of beauty and of youth in death and sorrow. He +has forgotten <i>el gran tradimento</i>. He only remembers how +comely Grifonetto was, how noble, how frank and spirited, how +strong in war, how sprightly in his pleasures and his loves. And he +sees the still young mother, delicate and nobly born, leaning over +the athletic body of her bleeding son. This scene, which is perhaps +a genuine instance of what we may call the neo-Hellenism of the +Renaissance, finds its parallel in the 'Phoenissæ' of +Euripides. Jocasta and Antigone have gone forth to the battlefield +and found the brothers Polynices and Eteocles drenched in +blood:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i11">From his chest</div> + +<div class="i2">Heaving a heavy breath, King Eteocles heard</div> + +<div class="i2">His mother, and stretched forth a cold damp +hand</div> + +<div class="i2">On hers, and nothing said, but with his eyes</div> + +<div class="i2">Spake to her by his tears, showing kind +thoughts</div> + +<div class="i2">In symbols.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It was Atalanta, we may remember, who commissioned Raphael to +paint the so-called Borghese Entombment. Did she perhaps feel, as +she withdrew from the piazza, soaking with young Grifonetto's +blood,<a name="FNanchor_6_24" id="FNanchor_6_24" /><a href= +"#Footnote_6_24" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> that she too had +some portion in the sorrow of that mother who had wept for Christ? +The <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg130" id="pg130">130</a></span> +memory of the dreadful morning must have remained with her through +life, and long communion with our Lady of Sorrows may have +sanctified the grief that had so bitter and so shameful a root of +sin.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_19" id="Footnote_1_19" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_19"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Matarazzo's description of the ruffians who surrounded Grifonetto +(pp. 104, 105, 113) would suit Webster's Flamineo or Bosola. In one +place he likens Filippo to Achitophel and Grifonetto to Absalom. +Villano Villani, quoted by Fabretti (vol. iii. p. 125), relates the +street adventures of this clique. It is a curious picture of the +pranks of an Italian princeling in the fifteenth century.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_20" id="Footnote_2_20" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_20"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Jacobo +Antiquari, the secretary of Lodovico Sforza, in a curious letter, +which gives an account of the massacre, says that he had often +reproved the Baglioni for 'sleeping in their beds without any guard +or watch, so that they might easily be overcome by enemies.'</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_21" id="Footnote_3_21" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_3_21"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 'Quelli +che li vidino, e maxime li forastiere studiante assimigliavano el +magnifico Messer Astorre così morto ad un antico Romano, +perchè prima era unanissimo; tanto sua figura era degnia e +magnia,' &c. This is a touch exquisitely illustrative of the +Renaissance enthusiasm for classic culture.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_4_22" id="Footnote_4_22" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_4_22"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Here +his lordship received upon his noble person so many wounds that he +stretched his graceful limbs upon the earth.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_5_23" id="Footnote_5_23" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_5_23"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> 'And +then the noble stripling stretched his right hand to his youthful +mother, pressing the white hand of his mother; and afterwards +forthwith he breathed his soul forth from his beauteous body, and +died with numberless blessings of his mother instead of the curses +she had given him before.'</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_6_24" id="Footnote_6_24" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_6_24"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See +Matarazzo, <a href="#pg134">p. 134</a>, for this +detail.</p> +</div> + +<p>After the death of Grifonetto, and the flight of the +conspirators, Gianpaolo took possession of Perugia. All who were +suspected of complicity in the treason were massacred upon the +piazza and in the Cathedral. At the expense of more than a hundred +murders, the chief of the Baglioni found himself master of the city +on the 17th of July. First he caused the Cathedral to be washed +with wine and reconsecrated. Then he decorated the Palazzo with the +heads of the traitors and with their portraits in fresco, painted +hanging head downwards, as was the fashion in Italy.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_25" id="FNanchor_1_25" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_25" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Next he +established himself in what remained of the palaces of his kindred, +hanging the saloons with black, and arraying his retainers in the +deepest mourning. Sad indeed was now the aspect of Perugia. +Helpless and comparatively uninterested, the citizens had been +spectators of these bloody broils. They were now bound to share the +desolation of their masters. Matarazzo's description of the +mournful palace and the silent town, and of the return of +Marcantonio from Naples, presents a picture striking for its +vividness.<a name="FNanchor_2_26" id="FNanchor_2_26" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_26" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> In the true style +of the Baglioni, Marcantonio sought to vent his sorrow not so much +in tears as by new violence. He prepared and lighted torches, +meaning to burn the whole quarter of Sant' Angelo; and from this +design he was with difficulty dissuaded by his <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg131" id="pg131">131</a></span> brother. To +such mad freaks of rage and passion were the inhabitants of a +mediæval town in Italy exposed! They make us understand the +<i>ordinanze di giustizia</i>, by which to be a noble was a crime +in Florence.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_25" id="Footnote_1_25" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_25"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See +Varchi (ed. Lemonnier, 1857), vol. ii. p. 265, vol. iii. pp. 224, +652, and Corio (Venice, 1554), p. 326, for instances of <i>dipinti +per traditori</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_26" id="Footnote_2_26" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_26"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> P. 142. +'Pareva ogni cosa oscura e lacrimosa: tutte loro servitore +piangevano; et le camere de lo resto de li magnifici Baglioni, e +sale, e ognie cosa erano tutte intorno cum pagnie negre. E per la +città non era più alcuno che sonasse nè +cantasse; e poco si rideva,' &c.</p> +</div> + +<p>From this time forward the whole history of the Baglioni family +is one of crime and bloodshed. A curse had fallen on the house, and +to the last of its members the penalty was paid. Gianpaolo himself +acquired the highest reputation throughout Italy for his courage +and sagacity both as a general and a governor.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_27" id="FNanchor_1_27" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_27" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It was he who +held Julius II. at his discretion in 1506, and was sneered at by +Machiavelli for not consummating his enormities by killing the +warlike Pope.<a name="FNanchor_2_28" id="FNanchor_2_28" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_28" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> He again, after +joining the diet of La Magione against Cesare Borgia, escaped by +his acumen the massacre of Sinigaglia, which overthrew the other +conspirators. But his name was no less famous for unbridled lust +and deeds of violence. He boasted that his son Constantino was a +true Baglioni, since he was his sister's child. He once told +Machiavelli that he had it in his mind to murder four citizens of +Perugia, his enemies. He looked calmly on while his kinsmen Eusebio +and Taddeo Baglioni, who had been accused of treason, were hewn to +pieces by his guard. His wife, Ippolita de' Conti, was poignarded +in her Roman farm; on hearing the news, he ordered a festival in +which he was engaged to proceed with redoubled merriment.<a name= +"FNanchor_3_29" id="FNanchor_3_29" /><a href= +"#Footnote_3_29" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> At last the time +came for him to die <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg132" id= +"pg132">132</a></span> by fraud and violence. Leo X., anxious to +remove so powerful a rival from Perugia, lured him in 1520 to Rome +under the false protection of a papal safe-conduct. After a short +imprisonment he had him beheaded in the Castle of S. Angelo. It was +thought that Gentile, his first cousin, sometime Bishop of Orvieto, +but afterwards the father of two sons in wedlock with Giulia +Vitelli—such was the discipline of the Church at this +epoch—had contributed to the capture of Gianpaolo, and had +exulted in his execution.<a name="FNanchor_4_30" id= +"FNanchor_4_30" /><a href="#Footnote_4_30" class= +"fnanchor">[4]</a> If so, he paid dear for his treachery; for +Orazio Baglioni, the second son of Gianpaolo and captain of the +Church under Clement VII., had him murdered in 1527, together with +his two nephews Fileno and Annibale.<a name="FNanchor_5_31" id= +"FNanchor_5_31" /><a href="#Footnote_5_31" class= +"fnanchor">[5]</a> This Orazio was one of the most bloodthirsty of +the whole brood. Not satisfied with the assassination of Gentile, +he stabbed Galeotto, the son of Grifonetto, with his own hand in +the same year.<a name="FNanchor_6_32" id="FNanchor_6_32" /><a href= +"#Footnote_6_32" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Afterwards he +died in the kingdom of Naples while leading the Black Bands in the +disastrous war which followed the sack of Rome. He left no son. +Malatesta, his elder brother, became one of the most celebrated +generals of the age, holding the batons of the Venetian and +Florentine republics, and managing to maintain his ascendency in +Perugia in spite of the persistent opposition of successive popes. +But his name is best known in history for one of the greatest +public crimes—a crime which must be ranked with that of +Marshal Bazaine. Intrusted with the defence of Florence during the +siege of 1530, he sold the city to his enemy, Pope Clement, +receiving for the price of this infamy certain privileges and +immunities which fortified his hold upon Perugia for a season. All +Italy was ringing <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg133" id= +"pg133">133</a></span> with the great deeds of the Florentines, who +for the sake of their liberty transformed themselves from merchants +into soldiers, and withstood the united powers of Pope and Emperor +alone. Meanwhile Malatesta, whose trade was war, and who was being +largely paid for his services by the beleaguered city, contrived by +means of diplomatic procrastination, secret communication with the +enemy, and all the arts that could intimidate an army of recruits, +to push affairs to a point at which Florence was forced to +capitulate without inflicting the last desperate glorious blow she +longed to deal her enemies. The universal voice of Italy condemned +him. When Matteo Dandolo, the Doge of Venice, heard what he had +done, he cried before the Pregadi in conclave, 'He has sold that +people and that city, and the blood of those poor citizens ounce by +ounce, and has donned the cap of the biggest traitor in the +world.'<a name="FNanchor_7_33" id="FNanchor_7_33" /><a href= +"#Footnote_7_33" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Consumed with +shame, corroded by an infamous disease, and mistrustful of Clement, +to whom he had sold his honour, Malatesta retired to Perugia, and +died in 1531. He left one son, Ridolfo, who was unable to maintain +himself in the lordship of his native city. After killing the Papal +legate, Cinzio Filonardi, in 1534, he was dislodged four years +afterwards, when Paul III. took final possession of the place as an +appanage of the Church, razed the houses of the Baglioni to the +ground, and built upon their site the Rocca Paolina. This fortress +bore an inscription: 'Ad coercendam Perusinorum audaciam.' The city +was given over to the rapacity of the abominable Pier Luigi +Farnese, and so bad was this tyranny of priests and bastards, that, +strange to say, the Perugians regretted the troublous times of the +Baglioni. Malatesta in dying had exclaimed, 'Help me, if you can; +since after me you will be set to draw the cart like oxen.' +Frollieri, relating the speech, adds, <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg134" id="pg134">134</a></span> 'And this has been fulfilled +to the last letter, for all have borne not only the yoke but the +burden and the goad.' Ridolfo Baglioni and his cousin Braccio, the +eldest son of Grifonetto, were both captains of Florence. The one +died in battle in 1554, the other in 1559. Thus ended the +illustrious family. They are now represented by descendants from +females, and by contadini who preserve their name and boast a +pedigree of which they have no records.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_27" id="Footnote_1_27" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_27"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See +Frollieri, p. 437, for a very curious account of his character.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_28" id="Footnote_2_28" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_28"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +Fabretti (vol. iii. pp. 193-202. and notes) discusses this +circumstance in detail. Machiavelli's critique runs thus +(<i>Discorsi</i>, lib. i. cap. 27): 'Nè si poteva credere +che si fosse astenuto o per bontà, o per coscienza che lo +ritenesse; perchè in un petto d'un uomo facinoroso, che si +teneva la sorella, ch' aveva morti i cugini e i nipotí per +regnare, non poteva scendere alcuno pietoso rispetto: ma si +conchiuse che gli uomini non sanno essere onorevolmente tristi, o +perfettamente buoni,' &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_29" id="Footnote_3_29" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_3_29"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See +Fabretti, vol. iii. p. 230. He is an authority for the details of +Gianpaolo's life. The circumstance alluded to above justifies the +terrible opening scene in Shelley's tragedy, <i>The Cenci</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_4_30" id="Footnote_4_30" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_4_30"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> +Fabretti, vol. iii. p. 230, vol. iv. p. 10.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_5_31" id="Footnote_5_31" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_5_31"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See +Varchi, <i>Storie Florentine</i>, vol. i. p. 224.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_6_32" id="Footnote_6_32" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_6_32"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> +Ibid.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_7_33" id="Footnote_7_33" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_7_33"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> +Fabretti, vol. iv. p. 206.</p> +</div> + +<p>The history of the Baglioni needs no commentary. They were not +worse than other Italian nobles, who by their passions and their +parties destroyed the peace of the city they infested. It is with +an odd mixture of admiration and discontent that the chroniclers of +Perugia allude to their ascendency. Matarazzo, who certainly cannot +be accused of hostility to the great house, describes the miseries +of his country under their bad government in piteous terms:<a name= +"FNanchor_1_34" id="FNanchor_1_34" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_34" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> 'As I wish not to +swerve from the pure truth, I say that from the day the Oddi were +expelled, our city went from bad to worse. All the young men +followed the trade of arms. Their lives were disorderly; and every +day divers excesses were divulged, and the city had lost all reason +and justice. Every man administered right unto himself, +<i>propriâ autoritate et manu regiâ</i>. Meanwhile the +Pope sent many legates, if so be the city could be brought to +order: but all who came returned in dread of being hewn in pieces; +for they threatened to throw some from the windows of the palace, +so that no cardinal or other legate durst approach Perugia, unless +he were a friend of the Baglioni. And the city was brought to such +misery, that the most wrongous men were most prized; and those who +had slain two or three men walked as they listed through the +palace, and went with sword or poignard to speak to the +podestà and other magistrates. Moreover, every man of <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg135" id="pg135">135</a></span> worth was +down-trodden by bravi whom the nobles favoured; nor could a citizen +call his property his own. The nobles robbed first one and then +another of goods and land. All offices were sold or else +suppressed; and taxes and extortions were so grievous that every +one cried out. And if a man were in prison for his head, he had no +reason to fear death, provided he had some interest with a noble.' +Yet the same Matarazzo in another place finds it in his heart to +say:<a name="FNanchor_2_35" id="FNanchor_2_35" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_35" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> 'Though the city +suffered great pains for these nobles, yet the illustrious house of +Baglioni brought her honour throughout Italy, by reason of the +great dignity and splendour of that house, and of their pomp and +name. Wherefore through them our city was often set above the rest, +and notably above the commonwealths of Florence and Siena.' Pride +feels no pain. The gratified vanity of the Perugian burgher, proud +to see his town preferred before its neighbours, blinds the +annalist to all the violence and villany of the magnificent Casa +Baglioni. So strong was the <i>esprit de ville</i> which through +successive centuries and amid all vicissitudes of politics divided +the Italians against themselves, and proved an insuperable obstacle +to unity.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_34" id="Footnote_1_34" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_34"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Pp. +102, 103.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_35" id="Footnote_2_35" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_35"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> P. +139.</p> +</div> + +<p>After reading the chronicle of Matarazzo at Perugia through one +winter day, I left the inn and walked at sunset to the +blood-bedabbled cathedral square; for still those steps and +pavements to my strained imagination seemed reeking with the +outpoured blood of Baglioni; and on the ragged stonework of San +Lorenzo red patches slanted from the dying day. Then by one of +those strange freaks of the brain to which we are all subject, for +a moment I lost sight of untidy Gothic façades and gaunt +unfinished church walls; and as I walked, I was in the Close of +Salisbury on a perfumed summer afternoon. The drowsy scent of +lime-flowers and mignonette, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg136" +id="pg136">136</a></span> the cawing of elm-cradled rooks, the hum +of bees above, the velvet touch of smooth-shorn grass, and the +breathless shadow of motionless green boughs made up one potent and +absorbing mood of the charmed senses. Far overhead soared the calm +grey spire into the infinite air, and the perfection of +accomplished beauty slept beneath in those long lines of nave and +choir and transepts. It was but a momentary dream, a thought that +burned itself upon a fancy overtaxed by passionate images. Once +more the puppet-scene of the brain was shifted; once more I saw the +bleak bare flags of the Perugian piazza, the forlorn front of the +Duomo, the bronze griffin, and Pisano's fountain, with here and +there a flake of that tumultuous fire which the Italian sunset +sheds. Who shall adequately compare the two pictures? Which shall +we prefer—the Close of Salisbury, with its sleepy bells and +cushioned ease of immemorial Deans—or this poor threadbare +passion of Perugia, where every stone is stained with blood, and +where genius in painters and scholars and prophets and ecstatic +lovers has throbbed itself away to nothingness? It would be foolish +to seek an answer to this question, idle to institute a comparison, +for instance, between those tall young men with their broad winter +cloaks who remind me of Grifonetto, and the vergers pottering in +search of shillings along the gravel paths of Salisbury. It is more +rational, perhaps, to reflect of what strange stuff our souls are +made in this age of the world, when æsthetic pleasures, full, +genuine, and satisfying, can be communicated alike by Perugia with +its fascination of a dead irrevocable dramatic past, and Salisbury, +which finds the artistic climax of its English comfort in the +'Angel in the House.' From Matarazzo, smitten with a Greek love for +the beautiful Grifonetto, to Mr. Patmore, is a wide step.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg137" id= +"pg137">137</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="ORVIETO" id="ORVIETO" /><i>ORVIETO</i></h3> + +<p>On the road from Siena to Rome, halfway between Ficulle and +Viterbo, is the town of Orvieto. Travellers often pass it in the +night-time. Few stop there, for the place is old and dirty, and its +inns are said to be indifferent. But none who see it even from a +distance can fail to be struck with its imposing aspect, as it +rises from the level plain upon that mass of rock among the +Apennines.</p> + +<p>Orvieto is built upon the first of those huge volcanic blocks +which are found like fossils embedded in the more recent geological +formations of Central Italy, and which stretch in an irregular but +unbroken line to the Campagna of Rome. Many of them, like that on +which Civita Castellana is perched, are surrounded by rifts and +chasms and ravines and fosses, strangely furrowed and twisted by +the force of fiery convulsions. But their advanced guard, Orvieto, +stands up definite and solid, an almost perfect cube, with walls +precipitous to north and south and east, but slightly sloping to +the westward. At its foot rolls the Paglia, one of those barren +streams which swell in winter with the snows and rains of the +Apennines, but which in summer-time shrink up, and leave bare beds +of sand and pestilential canebrakes to stretch irregularly round +their dwindled waters.</p> + +<p>The weary flatness and utter desolation of this valley present a +sinister contrast to the broad line of the Apennines, swelling tier +on tier, from their oak-girdled basements set with villages and +towers, up to the snow and cloud that crown <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg138" id="pg138">138</a></span> their topmost +crags. The time to see this landscape is at sunrise; and the +traveller should take his stand upon the rising ground over which +the Roman road is carried from the town—the point, in fact, +which Turner has selected for his vague and misty sketch of Orvieto +in our Gallery. Thence he will command the whole space of the +plain, the Apennines, and the river creeping in a straight line at +the base; while the sun, rising to his right, will slant along the +mountain flanks, and gild the leaden stream, and flood the castled +crags of Orvieto with a haze of light. From the centre of this +glory stand out in bold relief old bastions built upon the solid +tufa, vast gaping gateways black in shadow, towers of churches +shooting up above a medley of deep-corniced tall Italian houses, +and, amid them all, the marble front of the Cathedral, calm and +solemn in its unfamiliar Gothic state. Down to the valley from +these heights there is a sudden fall; and we wonder how the few +spare olive-trees that grow there can support existence on the +steep slope of the cliff.</p> + +<p>Our mind, in looking at this landscape, is carried by the force +of old association to Jerusalem. We could fancy ourselves to be +standing on Mount Olivet, with the valley of Jehoshaphat between us +and the Sacred City. As we approach the town, the difficulty of +scaling its crags seems insurmountable. The road, though carried +skilfully along each easy slope or ledge of quarried rock, still +winds so much that nearly an hour is spent in the ascent. Those who +can walk should take a footpath, and enter Orvieto by the +mediæval road, up which many a Pope, flying from rebellious +subjects or foreign enemies, has hurried on his mule.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_36" id="FNanchor_1_36" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_36" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_36" id="Footnote_1_36" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_36"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Clement +VII., for example, escaped from Rome disguised as a gardener after +the sack in 1527, and, to quote the words of Varchi (St. Flor., v. +17), 'Entrò agli otto di dicembre a due ore di notte in +Orvieto, terra di sito fortissimo, per lo essere ella sopra uno +scoglio pieno di tufi posta, d' ogni intorno scosceso e dirupato,' +&c.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg139" id="pg139">139</a></span> +To unaccustomed eyes there is something forbidding and terrible +about the dark and cindery appearance of volcanic tufa. Where it is +broken, the hard and gritty edges leave little space for +vegetation; while at intervals the surface spreads so smooth and +straight that one might take it for solid masonry erected by the +architect of Pandemonium. Rubbish and shattered bits of earthenware +and ashes, thrown from the city walls, cling to every ledge and +encumber the broken pavement of the footway. Then as we rise, the +castle battlements above appear more menacing, toppling upon the +rough edge of the crag, and guarding each turn of the road with +jealous loopholes or beetle-browed machicolations, until at last +the gateway and portcullis are in view.</p> + +<p>On first entering Orvieto, one's heart fails to find so terrible +a desolation, so squalid a solitude, and so vast a difference +between the present and the past, between the beauty of surrounding +nature and the misery of this home of men. A long space of +unoccupied ground intervenes between the walls and the hovels which +skirt the modern town. This, in the times of its splendour, may +have served for oliveyards, vineyards, and pasturage, in case of +siege. There are still some faint traces of dead gardens left upon +its arid wilderness, among the ruins of a castellated palace, +decorated with the cross-keys and tiara of an unremembered pope. +But now it lies a mere tract of scorched grass, insufferably hot +and dry and sandy, intersected by dirty paths, and covered with the +loathliest offal of a foul Italian town. Should you cross this +ground at mid-day, under the blinding sun, when no living thing, +except perhaps some poisonous reptile, is about, you would declare +that Orvieto had been stricken for its sins by Heaven. Your mind +would dwell mechanically on all that you have read of Papal crimes, +of fratricidal wars, of Pagan abominations in the high places of +the Church, of tempestuous passions and <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg140" id="pg140">140</a></span> refined iniquity—of +everything, in fact, which renders Italy of the Middle Ages and the +Renaissance dark and ominous amid the splendours of her art and +civilisation. This is the natural result; this shrunken and squalid +old age of poverty and self-abandonment is the end of that strong, +prodigal, and vicious youth. Who shall restore vigour to these dead +bones? we cry. If Italy is to live again, she must quit her ruined +palace towers to build fresh dwellings elsewhere. Filth, lust, +rapacity, treason, godlessness, and violence have made their +habitation here; ghosts haunt these ruins; these streets still +smell of blood and echo to the cries of injured innocence; life +cannot be pure, or calm, or healthy, where this curse has +settled.</p> + +<p>Occupied with such reflections, we reach the streets of Orvieto. +They are not very different from those of most Italian villages, +except that there is little gaiety about them. Like Assisi or +Siena, Orvieto is too large for its population, and merriment flows +better from close crowding than from spacious accommodation. Very +dark, and big, and dirty, and deserted, is the judgment we +pronounce upon the houses; very filthy and malodorous each passage; +very long this central street; very few and sad and sullen the +inhabitants; and where, we wonder, is the promised inn? In search +of this one walks nearly through the city, until one enters the +Piazza, where there is more liveliness. Here cafés may be +found; soldiers, strong and sturdy, from the north, lounge at the +corners; the shops present more show; and a huge hotel, not bad for +such a place, and appropriately dedicated to the Belle Arti, +standing in a courtyard of its own, receives the traveller weary +with his climb. As soon as he has taken rooms, his first desire is +to go forth and visit the Cathedral.</p> + +<p>The great Duomo was erected at the end of the thirteenth century +to commemorate the Miracle of Bolsena. The value <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg141" id="pg141">141</a></span> of this miracle +consisted in its establishing unmistakably the truth of +transubstantiation. The story runs that a young Bohemian priest who +doubted the dogma was performing the office of the mass in a church +at Bolsena, when, at the moment of consecration, blood issued from +five gashes in the wafer, which resembled the five wounds of +Christ. The fact was evident to all the worshippers, who saw blood +falling on the linen of the altar; and the young priest no longer +doubted, but confessed the miracle, and journeyed straightway with +the evidence thereof to Pope Urban IV. The Pope, who was then at +Orvieto, came out with all his retinue to meet the convert and do +honour to the magic-working relics. The circumstances of this +miracle are well known to students of art through Raphael's +celebrated fresco in the Stanze of the Vatican. And it will be +remembered by the readers of ecclesiastical history that Urban had +in 1264 promulgated by a bull the strict observance of the Corpus +Christi festival in connection with his strong desire to +re-establish the doctrine of Christ's presence in the elements. Nor +was it without reason that, while seeking miraculous support for +this dogma, he should have treated the affair of Bolsena so +seriously as to celebrate it by the erection of one of the most +splendid cathedrals in Italy; for the peace of the Church had +recently been troubled by the reforming ardour of the Fraticelli +and by the promulgation of Abbot Joachim's Eternal Gospel. This new +evangelist had preached the doctrine of progression in religious +faith, proclaiming a kingdom of the Spirit which should transcend +the kingdom of the Son, even as the Christian dispensation had +superseded the Jewish supremacy of the Father. Nor did he fail at +the same time to attack the political and moral abuses of the +Papacy, attributing its degradation to the want of vitality which +pervaded the old Christian system, and calling on the clergy to +lead more <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg142" id= +"pg142">142</a></span> simple and regenerate lives, consistently +with the spiritual doctrine which he had received by inspiration. +The theories of Joachim were immature and crude; but they were +among the first signs of that liberal effort after +self-emancipation which eventually stirred all Europe at the time +of the Renaissance. It was, therefore, the obvious policy of the +Popes to crush so dangerous an opposition while they could; and by +establishing the dogma of transubstantiation, they were enabled to +satisfy the craving mysticism of the people, while they placed upon +a firmer basis the cardinal support of their own religious +power.</p> + +<p>In pursuance of his plan, Urban sent for Lorenzo Maitani, the +great Sienese architect, who gave designs for a Gothic church in +the same style as the Cathedral of Siena, though projected on a +smaller scale. These two churches, in spite of numerous +shortcomings manifest to an eye trained in French or English +architecture, are still the most perfect specimens of Pointed +Gothic produced by the Italian genius. The Gottico Tedesco had +never been received with favour in Italy. Remains of Roman +architecture, then far more numerous and perfect than they are at +present, controlled the minds of artists, and induced them to adopt +the rounded rather than the pointed arch. Indeed, there would seem +to be something peculiarly Northern in the spirit of Gothic +architecture: its intricacies suit the gloom of Northern skies, its +massive exterior is adapted to the severity of Northern weather, +its vast windows catch the fleeting sunlight of the North, and the +pinnacles and spires which constitute its beauty are better +expressed in rugged stone than in the marbles of the South. +Northern cathedrals do not depend for their effect upon the +advantages of sunlight or picturesque situations. Many of them are +built upon broad plains, over which for more than half the year +hangs fog. But the cathedrals of Italy owe <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg143" id="pg143">143</a></span> their charm to colour and +brilliancy: their gilded sculpture and mosaics, the variegated +marbles and shallow portals of their façades, the light +aërial elegance of their campanili, are all adapted to the +luminous atmosphere of a smiling land, where changing effects of +natural beauty distract the attention from solidity of design and +permanence of grandeur in the edifice itself.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_37" id="FNanchor_1_37" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_37" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_37" id="Footnote_1_37" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_37"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In +considering why Gothic architecture took so little root in +mediæval Italy, we must remember that the Italians had +maintained an unbroken connection with Pagan Rome, and that many of +their finest churches were basilicas appropriated to Christian +rites. Add to this that the commerce of their cities, which first +acquired wealth in the twelfth century, especially Pisa and Venice, +kept them in communication with the Levant, where they admired the +masterpieces of Byzantine architecture, and whence they imported +Greek artists in mosaic and stonework. Against these external +circumstances, taken in connection with the hereditary leanings of +an essentially Latin race, and with the natural conditions of +landscape and climate alluded to above, the influence of a few +imported German architects could not have had sufficient power to +effect a thorough metamorphosis of the national taste. For further +treatment of this subject see my 'Fine Arts,' <i>Renaissance in +Italy</i>, Part III. chap. ii.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Cathedral of Orvieto will illustrate these remarks. Its +design is very simple. It consists of a parallelogram, from which +three chapels of equal size project, one at the east end, and one +at the north and south. The windows are small and narrow, the +columns round, and the roof displays none of that intricate +groining we find in English churches. The beauty of the interior +depends on surface decoration, on marble statues, woodwork, and +fresco-paintings. Outside, there is the same simplicity of design, +the same elaborated local ornament. The sides of the Cathedral are +austere, their narrow windows cutting horizontal lines of black and +white marble. But the façade is a triumph of decorative art. +It is strictly what has often been described as a 'frontispiece;' +for it bears no sincere relation to the construction of the +building. The three gables <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg144" +id="pg144">144</a></span> rise high above the aisles. The pinnacles +and parapets and turrets are stuck on to look agreeable. It is a +screen such as might be completed or left unfinished at will by the +architect. Finished as it is, the façade of Orvieto presents +a wilderness of beauties. Its pure white marble has been mellowed +by time to a rich golden hue, in which are set mosaics shining like +gems or pictures of enamel. A statue stands on every pinnacle; each +pillar has a different design; round some of them are woven wreaths +of vine and ivy; acanthus leaves curl over the capitals, making +nests for singing birds or Cupids; the doorways are a labyrinth of +intricate designs, in which the utmost elegance of form is made +more beautiful by incrustations of precious agates and Alexandrine +glasswork. On every square inch of this wonderful façade +have been lavished invention, skill, and precious material. But its +chief interest centres in the sculptures executed by Giovanni and +Andrea, sons and pupils of Nicola Pisano. The names of these three +men mark an era in the history of art. They first rescued Italian +sculpture from the grotesqueness of the Lombard and the wooden +monotony of the Byzantine styles. Sculpture takes the lead of all +the arts. And Nicola Pisano, before Cimabue, before Duccio, even +before Dante, opened the gates of beauty, which for a thousand +years had been shut up and overgrown with weeds. As Dante invoked +the influence of Virgil when he began to write his mediæval +poem, and made a heathen bard his hierophant in Christian +mysteries, just so did Nicola Pisano draw inspiration from a +Græco-Roman sarcophagus. He studied the basrelief of +Phædra and Hippolytus, which may still be seen upon the tomb +of Countess Beatrice in the Campo Santo, and so learned by heart +the beauty of its lines and the dignity expressed in its figures, +that in all his subsequent works we trace the elevated tranquillity +of Greek sculpture. This imitation never degenerated into servile +copying; nor, on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg145" id= +"pg145">145</a></span> other hand, did Nicola attain the perfect +grace of an Athenian artist. He remained a truly mediæval +carver, animated with a Christian instead of a Pagan spirit, but +caring for the loveliness of form which art in the dark ages failed +to realise.<a name="FNanchor_1_38" id="FNanchor_1_38" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_38" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_38" id="Footnote_1_38" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_38"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I am +not inclined to reject the old legend mentioned above about +Pisano's study of the antique. For a full discussion of the +question see my 'Fine Arts,' <i>Renaissance in Italy</i>, Part III. +chap. iii.</p> +</div> + +<p>Whether it was Nicola or his scholars who designed the +basreliefs at Orvieto is of little consequence. Vasari ascribes +them to the father; but we know that he completed his pulpit at +Pisa in 1230, and his death is supposed to have taken place fifteen +years before the foundation of the cathedral. At any rate, they are +imbued with his genius, and bear the strongest affinity to his +sculptures at Pisa, Siena, and Bologna. To estimate the influence +they exercised over the arts of sculpture and painting in Italy +would be a difficult task. Duccio and Giotto studied here; Ghiberti +closely followed them. Signorelli and Raphael made drawings from +their compositions. And the spirit which pervades these sculptures +may be traced in all succeeding works of art. It is not classic; it +is modern, though embodied in a form of beauty modelled on the +Greek.</p> + +<p>The basreliefs are carved on four marble tablets placed beside +the porches of the church, and corresponding in size and shape with +the chief doorways. They represent the course of Biblical history, +beginning with the creation of the world, and ending with the last +judgment. If it were possible here to compare them in detail with +the similar designs of Ghiberti, Michel Angelo, and Raphael, it +might be shown that the Pisani established modes of treating sacred +subjects from which those mighty masters never deviated, though +each stamped upon them his peculiar genius, making them more +perfect as time added to the power of art. It would also be <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg146" id="pg146">146</a></span> not +without interest to show that, in their primitive conceptions of +the earliest events in history, the works of the Pisan artists +closely resemble some sculptures executed on the walls of Northern +cathedrals, as well as early mosaics in the South of Italy. We +might have noticed how all the grotesque elements which appear in +Nicola Pisano, and which may still be traced in Ghiberti, are +entirely lost in Michel Angelo, how the supernatural is humanised, +how the symbolical receives an actual expression, and how +intellectual types are substituted for mere local and individual +representations. For instance, the Pisani represent the Creator as +a young man standing on the earth, with a benign and dignified +expression, and attended by two ministering angels. He is the +Christ of the Creed, 'by whom all things were made.' In Ghiberti we +find an older man, sometimes appearing in a whirlwind of clouds and +attendant spirits, sometimes walking on the earth, but still far +different in conception from the Creative Father of Michel Angelo. +The latter is rather the Platonic Demiurgus than the Mosaic God. By +every line and feature of his face and flowing hair, by each +movement of his limbs, whether he ride on clouds between the waters +and the firmament, or stand alone creating by a glance and by a +motion of his hand Eve, the full-formed and conscious woman, he is +proclaimed the Maker who from all eternity has held the thought of +the material universe within his mind. Raphael does not depart from +this conception. The profound abstraction of Michel Angelo ruled +his intellect, and received from his genius a form of perhaps +greater grace. A similar growth from the germinal designs of the +Pisani may be traced in many groups.</p> + +<p>But we must not linger at the gate. Let us enter the cathedral +and see some of the wonders it contains. Statues of gigantic size +adorn the nave. Of these, the most beautiful <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg147" id="pg147">147</a></span> are the work of +Ippolito Scalza, an artist whom Orvieto claims with pride as one of +her own sons. The long line of saints and apostles whom they +represent conduct us to the high altar, surrounded by its shadowy +frescoes, and gleaming with the work of carvers in marble and +bronze and precious metals. But our steps are drawn toward the +chapel of the south transept, where now a golden light from the +autumnal sunset falls across a crowd of worshippers. From far and +near the poor people are gathered. Most of them are women. They +kneel upon the pavement and the benches, sunburnt faces from the +vineyards and the canebrakes of the valley. The old look +prematurely aged and withered—their wrinkled cheeks bound up +in scarlet and orange-coloured kerchiefs, their skinny fingers +fumbling on the rosary, and their mute lips moving in prayer. The +younger women have great listless eyes and large limbs used to +labor. Some of them carry babies trussed up in tight +swaddling-clothes. One kneels beside a dark-browed shepherd, on +whose shoulder falls his shaggy hair; and little children play +about, half hushed, half heedless of the place, among old men whose +life has dwindled down into a ceaseless round of prayers. We wonder +why this chapel, alone in the empty cathedral, is so crowded with +worshippers. They surely are not turned towards that splendid +Pietà of Scalza—a work in which the marble seems to +live a cold, dead, shivering life. They do not heed Angelico's and +Signorelli's frescoes on the roof and walls. The interchange of +light and gloom upon the stalls and carved work of the canopies can +scarcely rivet so intense a gaze. All eyes seem fixed upon a +curtain of red silk above the altar. Votive pictures, and glass +cases full of silver hearts, wax babies, hands and limbs of every +kind, are hung round it. A bell rings. A jingling organ plays a +little melody in triple time; and from the sacristy comes forth the +priest. With <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg148" id= +"pg148">148</a></span> much reverence, and with a show of +preparation, he and the acolytes around him mount the altar steps +and pull a string which draws the curtain. Behind the silken veil +we behold Madonna and her child—a faint, old, ugly picture, +blackened with the smoke and incense of five hundred years, a +wonder-working image, cased in gold, and guarded from the common +air by glass and draperies. Jewelled crowns are stuck upon the +heads of the mother and the infant. In the efficacy of Madonna di +San Brizio to ward off agues, to deliver from the pangs of +childbirth or the fury of the storm, to keep the lover's troth and +make the husband faithful to his home, these pious women of the +marshes and the mountains put a simple trust.</p> + +<p>While the priest sings, and the people pray to the dance-music +of the organ, let us take a quiet seat unseen, and picture to our +minds how the chapel looked when Angelico and Signorelli stood +before its plastered walls, and thought the thoughts with which +they covered them. Four centuries have gone by since those walls +were white and even to their brushes; and now you scarce can see +the golden aureoles of saints, the vast wings of the angels, and +the flowing robes of prophets through the gloom. Angelico came +first, in monk's dress, kneeling before he climbed the scaffold to +paint the angry judge, the Virgin crowned, the white-robed army of +the Martyrs, and the glorious company of the Apostles. These he +placed upon the roof, expectant of the Judgment. Then he passed +away, and Luca Signorelli, the rich man who 'lived splendidly and +loved to dress himself in noble clothes,' the liberal and courteous +gentleman, took his place upon the scaffold. For all the +worldliness of his attire and the worldliness of his living, his +brain teemed with stern and terrible thoughts. He searched the +secrets of sin and of the grave, of destruction and of +resurrection, of heaven and hell. All these he has painted on the +walls beneath the saints of Fra <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg149" id="pg149">149</a></span> Angelico. First come the troubles +of the last days, the preaching of Antichrist, and the confusion of +the wicked. In the next compartment we see the Resurrection from +the tomb; and side by side with that is painted Hell. Paradise +occupies another portion of the chapel. On each side of the window, +beneath the Christ of Fra Angelico, are delineated scenes from the +Judgment. A wilderness of arabesques, enclosing medallion portraits +of poets and chiaroscuro episodes selected from Dante and Ovid, +occupies the lower portions of the chapel walls beneath the great +subjects enumerated above; and here Signorelli has given free vein +to his fancy and his mastery over anatomical design, accumulating +naked human figures in the most fantastic and audacious variety of +pose.</p> + +<p>Look at the 'Fulminati'—so the group of wicked men are +called whose death precedes the Judgment. Huge naked angels, +sailing upon vanlike wings, breathe columns of red flame upon a +crowd of wicked men and women. In vain these sinners avoid the +descending fire. It pursues and fells them to the earth. As they +fly, their eyes are turned towards the dreadful faces in the air. +Some hurry through a portico, huddled together, falling men, and +women clasping to their arms dead babies scorched with flame. One +old man stares straightforward, doggedly awaiting death. One woman +scowls defiance as she dies. A youth has twisted both hands in his +hair, and presses them against his ears to drown the screams and +groans and roaring thunder. They trample upon prostrate forms +already stiff. Every shape and attitude of sudden terror and +despairing guilt are here. Next comes the Resurrection. Two angels +of the Judgment—gigantic figures, with the plumeless wings +that Signorelli loves—are seen upon the clouds. They blow +trumpets with all their might, so that each naked muscle seems +strained to make the blast, which bellows through the air and +shakes <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg150" id= +"pg150">150</a></span> the sepulchres beneath the earth. Thence +rise the dead. All are naked, and a few are seen like skeletons. +With painful effort they struggle from the soil that clasps them +round, as if obeying an irresistible command. Some have their heads +alone above the ground. Others wrench their limbs from the clinging +earth; and as each man rises, it closes under him. One would think +that they were being born again from solid clay, and growing into +form with labour. The fully risen spirits stand and walk about, all +occupied with the expectation of the Judgment; but those that are +yet in the act of rising, have no thought but for the strange and +toilsome process of this second birth. Signorelli here, as +elsewhere, proves himself one of the greatest painters by the +simple means with which he produces the most marvellous effects. +His composition sways our souls with all the passion of the +terrible scenes that he depicts. Yet what does it contain? Two +stern angels on the clouds, a blank grey plain, and a multitude of +naked men and women. In the next compartment Hell is painted. This +is a complicated picture, consisting of a mass of human beings +entangled with torturing fiends. Above hover demons bearing damned +spirits, and three angels see that justice takes its course. +Signorelli here degenerates into no mediæval ugliness and +mere barbarity of form. His fiends are not the bestial creatures of +Pisano's basreliefs, but models of those monsters which Duppa has +engraved from Michel Angelo's 'Last Judgment'—lean naked men, +in whose hollow eyes glow the fires of hate and despair, whose +nails have grown to claws, and from whose ears have started horns. +They sail upon bats' wings; and only by their livid hue, which +changes from yellow to the ghastliest green, and by the cruelty of +their remorseless eyes, can you know them from the souls they +torture. In Hell ugliness and power of mischief come with length of +years. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg151" id= +"pg151">151</a></span> Continual growth in crime distorts the form +which once was human; and the interchange of everlasting hatred +degrades the tormentor and his victim to the same demoniac +ferocity. To this design the science of foreshortening, and the +profound knowledge of the human form in every posture, give its +chief interest. Paradise is not less wonderful. Signorelli has +contrived to throw variety and grace into the somewhat monotonous +groups which this subject requires. Above are choirs of angels, not +like Fra Angelico's, but tall male creatures clothed in voluminous +drapery, with grave features and still, solemn eyes. Some are +dancing, some are singing to the lute, and one, the most gracious +of them all, bends down to aid a suppliant soul. The men beneath, +who listen in a state of bliss, are all undraped. Signorelli, in +this difficult composition, remains temperate, serene, and simple; +a Miltonic harmony pervades the movement of his angelic choirs. +Their beauty is the product of their strength and virtue. No floral +ornaments or cherubs, or soft clouds, are found in his Paradise; +yet it is fair and full of grace. Here Luca seems to have +anticipated Raphael.</p> + +<p>It may be parenthetically observed, that Signorelli has +introduced himself and Niccolo Angeli, treasurer of the cathedral +building fund, in the corner of the fresco representing Antichrist, +with the date 1503. They stand as spectators and solemn witnesses +of the tragedy, set forth in all its acts by the great master.</p> + +<p>After viewing these frescoes, we muse and ask ourselves why +Signorelli's fame is so inadequate to his deserts? Partly, no +doubt, because he painted in obscure Italian towns, and left few +easel-pictures.<a name="FNanchor_1_39" id="FNanchor_1_39" /><a +href="#Footnote_1_39" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Besides, the +artists of the sixteenth <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg152" id= +"pg152">152</a></span> century eclipsed all their predecessors, and +the name of Signorelli has been swallowed up in that of Michel +Angelo. Vasari said that 'esso Michel Angelo imitò l'andar +di Luca, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg153" id= +"pg153">153</a></span> come può vedere ognuno.' Nor is it +hard to see that what the one began at Orvieto the other completed +in the Vatican. These great men had truly kindred spirits. Both +struggled <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg154" id= +"pg154">154</a></span> to express their intellectual conceptions in +the simplest and most abstract forms. The works of both are +distinguished by contempt for adventitious ornaments and for the +grace of positive colour. Both chose to work in fresco, and +selected subjects of the gravest and most elevated character. The +study of anatomy, and the scientific drawing of the naked body, +which Luca practised, were carried to perfection by Michel Angelo. +Sublimity of thought and self-restraint pervade their compositions. +He who would understand Buonarroti must first appreciate +Signorelli. The latter, it is true, was confined to a narrower +circle in his study of the beautiful and the sublime. He had not +ascended to that pure idealism, superior to all the accidents of +place and time, which is the chief distinction of Michel Angelo's +work. At the same time, his manner had not suffered from too fervid +an enthusiasm for the imperfectly comprehended antique. He painted +the life he saw around him, and clothed his men and women in the +dress of Italy.</p> + +<p>Such reflections, and many more, pass through our mind as we sit +and ponder in the chapel, which the daylight has deserted. The +country people are still on their knees, still careless of the +frescoed forms around them, still praying to Madonna of the +Miracles. The service is well-nigh done. The benediction has been +given, the organist strikes up his air of Verdi, and the +congregation shuffles off, leaving the dimly lighted chapel for the +vast sonorous dusky nave. How strange it is to hear that faint +strain of a feeble opera sounding where, a short while since, the +trumpet-blast of Signorelli's angels seemed to thrill our ears!</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_39" id="Footnote_1_39" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_39"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +Uffizzi and Pitti Galleries at Florence contain one or two fine +specimens of Luca Signorelli's Holy Families, which show his +influence over the early manner of Michel Angelo. Into the +background of one circular picture he has introduced a group of +naked figures, which was imitated by Buonarroti in the Holy Family +of the Tribune. The Accademia has also a picture of saints and +angels illustrative of his large style and crowded composition. The +Brera at Milan can boast of a very characteristic Flagellation, +where the nude has been carefully studied, and the brutality of an +insolent officer is forcibly represented. But perhaps the most +interesting of his works out of Orvieto are those in his native +place, Cortona. In the Church of the Gesù in that town there +is an altar-piece representing Madonna in glory with saints, which +also contains on a smaller scale than the principal figures a +little design of the Temptation in Eden. You recognise the master's +individuality in the muscular and energetic Adam. The Duomo has a +Communion of the Apostles which shows Signorelli's independence of +tradition. It is the Cenacolo treated with freedom. Christ stands +in the midst of the twelve, who are gathered around him, some +kneeling and some upright, upon a marble pavement. The whole scene +is conceived in a truly grand style—noble attitudes, broad +draperies, sombre and rich colouring, masculine massing of the +figures in effective groups. The Christ is especially noble. +Swaying a little to the right, he gives the bread to a kneeling +apostle. The composition is marked by a dignity and self-restraint +which Raphael might have envied. San Niccolo, again, has a fine +picture by this master. It is a Deposition with saints and +angels—those large-limbed and wide-winged messengers of God +whom none but Signorelli realised. The composition of this picture +is hazardous, and at first sight it is even displeasing. The +figures seem roughly scattered in a vacant space. The dead Christ +has but little dignity, and the passion of S. Jerome in the +foreground is stiff in spite of its exaggeration. But long study +only serves to render this strange picture more and more +attractive. Especially noticeable is the youthful angel clad in +dark green who sustains Christ. He is a young man in the bloom of +strength and beauty, whose long golden hair falls on each side of a +sublimely lovely face. Nothing in painting surpasses the modelling +of the vigorous but delicate left arm stretched forward to support +the heavy corpse. This figure is conceived and executed in a style +worthy of the Orvietan frescoes. Signorelli, for whose imagination +angels had a special charm, has shown here that his too frequent +contempt for grace was not the result of insensibility to beauty. +Strength is the parent of sweetness in this wonderful winged youth. +But not a single sacrifice is made in the whole picture to mere +elegance.—Cortona is a place which, independently of +Signorelli, well deserves a visit. Like all Etruscan towns, it is +perched on the top of a high hill, whence it commands a wonderful +stretch of landscape—Monte Amiata and Montepulciano to the +south, Chiusi with its lake, the lake of Thrasymene, and the whole +broad Tuscan plain. The city itself is built on a projecting +buttress of the mountain, to which it clings so closely that, in +climbing to the terrace of S. Margarita, you lose sight of all but +a few towers and house-roofs. One can almost fancy that Signorelli +gained his broad and austere style from the habitual contemplation +of a view so severe in outline, and so vacant in its width. This +landscape has none of the variety which distinguishes the prospect +from Perugia, none of the suavity of Siena. It is truly sympathetic +in its bare simplicity to the style of the great painter of +Cortona. Try to see it on a winter morning, when the mists are +lying white and low and thin upon the plain, when distant hills +rise islanded into the air, and the outlines of lakes are just +discernible through fleecy haze.—Next to Cortona in +importance is the Convent of Monte Oliveto in the neighbourhood of +Siena, where Signorelli painted eight frescoes from the story of S. +Benedict, distinguished by his customary vigour of conception, +masculine force of design, and martial splendour in athletic +disdainful young men. One scene in this series, representing the +interior of a country inn, is specially interesting for a realism +not usual in the work of Signorelli. The frescoes painted for +Petruccio at Siena, one of which is now in the National Gallery, +the fresco in the Sistine Chapel, which has suffered sadly from +retouching, and the magnificent classical picture called the +'School of Pan,' executed for Lorenzo de' Medici, and now at +Berlin, must not be forgotten, nor yet the church-pictures +scattered over Loreto, Arcevia, Città di Castello, Borgo San +Sepolcro, Volterra, and other cities of the Tuscan-Umbrian +district. Arezzo, it may be added in conclusion, has two +altar-pieces of Signorelli's in its Pinacoteca, neither of which +adds much to our conception of this painter's style. Noticeable as +they may be among the works of that period, they prove that his +genius was hampered by the narrow and traditional treatment imposed +on him in pictures of this kind. Students may be referred to Robert +Vischer's <i>Luca Signorelli</i> (Leipzig, 1879) for a complete +list of the master's works and an exhaustive biography. I have +tried to estimate his place in the history of Italian art in my +volume on the 'Fine Arts,' <i>Renaissance in Italy</i>, Part III. I +may also mention two able articles by Professor Colvin published a +few years since in the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg155" id= +"pg155">155</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="LUCRETIUS" id="LUCRETIUS" /><i>LUCRETIUS</i></h3> + +<p>In seeking to distinguish the Roman from the Greek genius we can +find no surer guide than Virgil's famous lines in the Sixth +Æneid. Virgil lived to combine the traditions of both races +in a work of profoundly meditated art, and to their points of +divergence he was sensitive as none but a poet bent upon resolving +them could be. The real greatness of the Romans consisted in their +capacity for government, law, practical administration. What they +willed, they carried into effect with an iron indifference to +everything but the object in view. What they acquired, they held +with the firm grasp of force, and by the might of organised +authority. Their architecture, in so far as it was original, +subserved purposes of public utility. Philosophy with them ceased +to be speculative, and applied itself to the ethics of conduct. +Their religious conceptions—in so far as these were not +adopted together with general culture from the Greeks, or together +with sensual mysticism from the East—were practical +abstractions. The Latin ideal was to give form to the state by +legislation, and to mould the citizen by moral discipline. The +Greek ideal was contained in the poetry of Homer, the sculpture of +Pheidias, the heroism of Harmodius, the philosophy of Socrates. +Hellas was held together by no system, but by the Delphic oracle +and the Olympian games. The Greeks depended upon culture, as the +Romans upon law. The national character determined by culture, and +that determined by discipline, eventually broke down: but the ruin +in either case <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg156" id= +"pg156">156</a></span> was different. The Greek became servile, +indolent, and slippery; the Roman became arrogant, bloodthirsty, +tyrannous, and brutal. The Greeks in their best days attained to +σωφροσύνη, their +regulative virtue, by a kind of instinct; and even in their worst +debasement they never exhibited the extravagance of lust and +cruelty and pompous prodigality displayed by Rome. The Romans, +deficient in the æsthetic instinct, whether applied to morals +or to art, were temperate upon compulsion; and when the strain of +law relaxed, they gave themselves unchecked to profligacy. The bad +taste of the Romans made them aspire to the huge and monstrous. +Nero's whim to cut through the isthmus, Caligula's villa built upon +the sea at Baiæ, the acres covered by imperial palaces in +Rome, are as Latin as the small scale of the Parthenon is Greek. +Athens annihilates our notions of mere magnitude by the +predominance of harmony and beauty, to which size is irrelevant. +Rome dilates them to the full: it is the colossal greatness, the +mechanical pride, of her monuments that win our admiration. By +comparing the Dionysian theatre at Athens, during a representation +of the 'Antigone,' with the Flavian amphitheatre at Rome, while the +gladiators sang their <i>Ave Cæsar!</i> we gain at once a +measure for the differences between Greek and Latin taste. In +spiritual matters, again, Rome, as distinguished from Hellas, was +omnivorous. The cosmopolitan receptivity of Roman sympathies, +absorbing Egypt and the Orient wholesale, is as characteristic as +the exclusiveness of the Greeks, their sensitive anxiety about the +ἦθος. We feel that it was in a Roman +rather than a Greek atmosphere, where no middle term of art existed +like a neutral ground between the moral law and sin, where no +delicate intellectual sensibilities interfered with the +assimilation of new creeds, that Christianity was destined to +strike root and flourish.</p> + +<p>These remarks, familiar to students, form a proper prelude to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg157" id="pg157">157</a></span> the +criticism of Lucretius: for in Lucretius the Roman character found +its most perfect literary incarnation. He is at all points a true +Roman, gifted with the strength, the conquering temper, the +uncompromising haughtiness, and the large scale of his race. +Holding, as it were, the thought of Greece in fee, he administers +the Epicurean philosophy as though it were a province, marshalling +his arguments like legionaries, and spanning the chasms of +speculative insecurity with the masonry of hypotheses. As the +arches of the Pont du Gard, suspended in their power amid that +solitude, produce an overmastering feeling of awe; so the huge +fabric of the Lucretian system, hung across the void of Nihilism, +inspires a sense of terror, not so much on its own account as for +the Roman sternness of the mind that made it. 'Le retentissement de +mes pas dans ces immenses voûtes me faisait croire entendre +la forte voix de ceux qui les avait bâties. Je me perdais +comme un insecte dans cette immensité.' This is what +Rousseau wrote about the aqueduct of Nismes. This is what we feel +in pacing the corridors of the Lucretian poem. Sometimes it seems +like walking through resounding caves of night and death, where +unseen cataracts keep plunging down uncertain depths, and winds +'thwarted and forlorn' swell from an unknown distance, and rush by, +and wail themselves to silence in the unexplored beyond. At another +time the impression left upon the memory is different. We have been +following a Roman road from the gate of the Eternal City, through +field and vineyard, by lake and river-bed, across the broad +intolerable plain and the barren tops of Alps, down into forests +where wild beasts and barbarian tribes wander, along the marge of +Rhine or Elbe, and over frozen fens, in one perpetual straight +line, until the sea is reached and the road ends because it can go +no further. All the while, the iron wheel-rims of our chariot have +jarred upon imperishable paved work; there has been no stop nor +stay; <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg158" id= +"pg158">158</a></span> the visions of things beautiful and strange +and tedious have flown past; at the climax we look forth across a +waste of waves and tumbling wilderness of surf and foam, where the +storm sweeps and hurrying mists drive eastward close above our +heads. The want of any respite, breathing-space, or intermission in +the poem, helps to force this image of a Roman journey on our mind. +From the first line to the last there is no turning-point, no pause +of thought, scarcely a comma, and the whole breaks off:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">rixantes potius quam corpora desererentur:</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>as though a scythe-sweep from the arm of Death had cut the +thread of singing short.</p> + +<p>Is, then, this poem truly song? Indeed it is. The brazen voice +of Rome becomes tunable; a majestic rhythm sustains the progress of +the singer, who, like Milton's Satan,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or +rare,</div> + +<div class="i1">With head, hands, wings or feet, pursues his +way,</div> + +<div class="i1">And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or +flies.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It is only because, being so much a Roman, he insists on moving +ever onward with unwavering march, that Lucretius is often +wearisome and rough. He is too disdainful to care to mould the +whole stuff of his poem to one quality. He is too truth-loving to +condescend to rhetoric. The scoriæ, the grit, the dross, the +quartz, the gold, the jewels of his thought are hurried onward in +one mighty lava-flood, that has the force to bear them all with +equal ease—not altogether unlike that hurling torrent of the +world painted by Tintoretto in his picture of the Last Day, which +carries on its breast cities and forests and men with all their +works, to plunge them in a bottomless abyss.</p> + +<p>Poems of the perfect Hellenic type may be compared to bronze +statues, in the material of which many divers metals <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg159" id="pg159">159</a></span> have been +fused. Silver and tin and copper and lead and gold are there: each +substance adds a quality to the mass; yet the whole is bronze. The +furnace of the poet's will has so melted and mingled all these +ores, that they have run together and filled the mould of his +imagination. It is thus that Virgil chose to work. He made it his +glory to realise artistic harmony, and to preserve a Greek balance +in his style. Not so Lucretius. In him the Roman spirit, +disdainful, uncompromising, and forceful, had full sway. We can +fancy him accosting the Greek masters of the lyre upon Parnassus, +deferring to none, conceding nought, and meeting their arguments +with proud indifference:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i1">tu regere imperio populos Romane memento.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Roman poet, swaying the people of his thoughts, will stoop +to no persuasion, adopt no middle course. It is not his business to +please, but to command; he will not wait upon the +καιρός, or court opportunity; +Greeks may surprise the Muses in relenting moods, and seek out +'mollia tempora fandi;' all times and seasons must serve him; the +terrible, the discordant, the sublime, and the magnificent shall +drag his thundering car-wheels, as he lists, along the road of +thought.</p> + +<p>At the very outset of the poem we feel ourselves within the +grasp of the Roman imagination. It is no Aphrodite, risen from the +waves and white as the sea-foam, that he invokes:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Æneadum genetrix, hominum divomque voluptas, +alma Venus.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This Venus is the mother of the brood of Rome, and at the same +time an abstraction as wide as the universe. See her in the arms of +Mavors:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i5"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg160" id= +"pg160">160</a></span> in gremium qui sæpe tuum se</div> + +<div class="i2">reicit æterno devictus volnere amoris,</div> + +<div class="i2">atque ita suspiciens tereti cervice reposta</div> + +<div class="i2">pascit amore avidos inhians in te, dea, +visus,</div> + +<div class="i2">eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore.</div> + +<div class="i2">hunc tu, diva, tuo recubantem corpore sancto</div> + +<div class="i2">circumfusa super, suavis ex ore loquelas</div> + +<div class="i2">funde petens placidam Romanis, incluta, +pacem.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In the whole Lucretian treatment of love there is nothing really +Greek. We do not hear of Eros, either as the mystic mania of Plato, +or as the winged boy of Meleager. Love in Lucretius is something +deeper, larger, and more elemental than the Greeks conceived; a +fierce and overmastering force, a natural impulse which men share +in common with the world of things.<a name="FNanchor_1_40" id= +"FNanchor_1_40" /><a href="#Footnote_1_40" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> Both the pleasures and the pains of love are +conceived on a gigantic scale, and described with an irony that has +the growl of a roused lion mingled with its laughter:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">ulcus enim vivescit et inveterascit alendo</div> + +<div class="i2">inque dies gliscit furor atque aerumna +gravescit.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The acts of love and the insanities of passion are viewed from +no standpoint of sentiment or soft emotion, but always in relation +to philosophical ideas, or as the manifestation of something +terrible in human life. Yet they lose nothing thereby in the +voluptuous impression left upon the fancy:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">sic in amore Venus simulacris ludit amantis,</div> + +<div class="i2">nec satiare queunt spectando corpora coram</div> + +<div class="i2">nec manibus quicquam teneris abradere membris</div> + +<div class="i2">possunt errantes incerti corpore toto.</div> + +<div class="i2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg161" id= +"pg161">161</a></span> denique cum membris conlatis flore +fruuntur</div> + +<div class="i2">ætatis, iam cum præsagit gaudia +corpus</div> + +<div class="i2">atque in eost Venus ut muliebria conserat +arva,</div> + +<div class="i2">adfigunt avide corpus iunguntque salivas</div> + +<div class="i2">oris et inspirant pressantes dentibus ora,</div> + +<div class="i2">nequiquam, quoniam nil inde abradere possunt</div> + +<div class="i2">nec penetrare et abire in corpus corpore +toto.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The master-word in this passage is <i>nequiquam</i>. 'To desire +the impossible,' says the Greek proverb, 'is a disease of the +soul.' Lucretius, who treats of physical desire as a torment, +asserts the impossibility of its perfect satisfaction. There is +something almost tragic in these sighs and pantings and +pleasure-throes, and incomplete fruitions of souls pent up within +their frames of flesh. We seem to see a race of men and women such +as have never lived, except perhaps in Rome or in the thought of +Michel Angelo,<a name="FNanchor_2_41" id="FNanchor_2_41" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_41" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> meeting in +leonine embracements that yield pain, whereof the climax is, at +best, relief from rage and respite for a moment from consuming +fire. There is a life dæmonic rather than human in those +mighty limbs; and the passion that bends them on the marriage bed +has in it the stress of storms, the rampings and the roarings of +leopards at play. Or, take again this single line:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">et Venus in silvis iungebat corpora amantum.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>What a picture of primeval breadth and vastness! The <i>vice +égrillard</i> of Voltaire, the coarse animalism of Rabelais, +even the large comic sexuality of Aristophanes, are in another +region: for the forest is the world, and the bodies of the lovers +are things natural and unashamed, and Venus is the tyrannous +instinct that controls the blood in spring. Only a Roman poet could +have conceived of passion so mightily and <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg162" id="pg162">162</a></span> so impersonally, expanding +its sensuality to suit the scale of Titanic existences, and purging +from it both sentiment and spirituality as well as all that makes +it mean.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_40" id="Footnote_1_40" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_40"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A +fragment preserved from the <i>Danaides</i> of Æschylus has +the thought of Aphrodite as the mistress of love in earth and sky +and sea and cloud; and this idea finds a philosophical expression +in Empedocles. But the tone of these Greek poets is as different +from that of Lucretius as a Greek Hera is from a Roman Juno.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_41" id="Footnote_2_41" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_41"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See, +for instance, his meeting of Ixion with the phantom of Juno, or his +design for Leda and the Swan.</p> +</div> + +<p>In like manner, the Lucretian conception of Ennui is wholly +Roman:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Si possent homines, proinde ac sentire +videntur</div> + +<div class="i1">pondus inesse animo quod se gravitate +fatiget,</div> + +<div class="i1">e quibus id fiat causis quoque noscere et +unde</div> + +<div class="i1">tanta mali tamquam moles in pectore constet,</div> + +<div class="i1">haut ita vitam agerent, ut nunc plerumque +videmus</div> + +<div class="i1">quid sibi quisque velit nescire et quærere +semper</div> + +<div class="i1">commutare locum quasi onus deponere possit.</div> + +<div class="i1">exit sæpe foras magnis ex ædibus +ille,</div> + +<div class="i1">esse domi quem pertæsumst, subitoque +revertit,</div> + +<div class="i1">quippe foris nilo melius qui sentiat esse.</div> + +<div class="i1">currit agens mannos ad villam +præcipitanter,</div> + +<div class="i1">auxilium tectis quasi ferre ardentibus +instans;</div> + +<div class="i1">oscitat extemplo, tetigit cum limina +villæ,</div> + +<div class="i1">aut abit in somnum gravis atque oblivia +quærit,</div> + +<div class="i1">aut etiam properans urbem petit atque +revisit,</div> + +<div class="i1">hoc se quisque modo fugit (at quem scilicet, ut +fit,</div> + +<div class="i1">effugere haut potis est, ingratis hæret) et +odit</div> + +<div class="i1">propterea, morbi quia causam non tenet +æger;</div> + +<div class="i1">quam bene si videat, iam rebus quisque +relictis</div> + +<div class="i1">naturam primum studeat cognoscere rerum,</div> + +<div class="i1">temporis æterni quoniam, non unius +horæ,</div> + +<div class="i1">ambigitur status, in quo sit mortalibus omnis</div> + +<div class="i1">ætas, post mortem quæ restat cumque +manenda.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Virgil would not have written these lines. A Greek poet could +not have conceived them: unless we imagine to ourselves what +Æschylus or Pindar, oppressed by long illness, and forgetful +of the gods, might possibly have felt. In its sense of spiritual +vacancy, when the world and all its uses have become flat, stale, +unprofitable, and the sentient soul oscillates like a pendulum +between weariful extremes, seeking repose in restless movement, and +hurling the ruins of a life into the gulf of its exhausted +cravings, we perceive already the symptoms of that unnamed <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg163" id="pg163">163</a></span> malady +which was the plague of imperial Rome. The tyrants and the suicides +of the Empire expand before our eyes a pageant of their lassitude, +relieved in vain by festivals of blood and orgies of unutterable +lust. It is not that <i>ennui</i> was a specially Roman disease. +Under certain conditions it is sure to afflict all overtaxed +civilisation; and for the modern world no one has expressed its +nature better than the slight and feminine De Musset.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_42" id="FNanchor_1_42" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_42" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Indeed, the Latin +language has no one phrase denoting Ennui;—<i>livor</i> and +<i>fastidium</i>, and even <i>tædium vitæ</i>, meaning +something more specific and less all-pervasive as a moral agency. +This in itself is significant, since it shows the unconsciousness +of the race at large, and renders the intuition of Lucretius all +the more remarkable. But in Rome there were the conditions +favourable to its development—imperfect culture, vehement +passions unabsorbed by commerce or by political life, the +habituation to extravagant excitement in war and in the circus, and +the fermentation of an age foredestined to give birth to new +religious creeds. When the infinite but ill-assured power of the +Empire was conferred on semi-madmen, Ennui in Rome assumed colossal +proportions. Its victims sought for palliatives in cruelty and +crime elsewhere unknown, except perhaps in Oriental courts. +Lucretius, in the last days of the Republic, had discovered its +deep significance for human nature. To all the pictures of Tacitus +it forms a solemn tragic background, enhancing, as it were, by +spiritual gloom the carnival of passions which gleam so brilliantly +upon his canvas. In the person of Caligula, Ennui sat supreme upon +the throne of the terraqueous globe. The insane desires and the +fantastic deeds of the autocrat who wished one head for humanity +that he might cut it off, sufficiently reveal the extent to which +his spirit had been gangrened by this ulcer. There <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg164" id="pg164">164</a></span> is a simple +paragraph in Suetonius which lifts the veil from his imperial +unrest more ruthlessly than any legend:—'Incitabatur +insomniis maxime; neque enim plus tribus horis nocturnis +quiescebat, ac ne his quidem placidâ quiete, at pavidâ, +miris rerum imaginibus ... ideoque magnâ parte noctis, +vigiliæ cubandique tædio, nunc toro residens, nunc per +longissimas porticus vagus, invocare identidem atque expectare +lucem consueverat.' This is the very picture of Ennui that has +become mortal disease. Nor was Nero different. 'Néron,' says +Victor Hugo, 'cherche tout simplement une distraction. Poëte, +comédien, chanteur, cocher, épuisant la +férocité pour trouver la volupté, essayant le +changement de sexe, époux de l'eunuque Sporus et +épouse de l'esclave Pythagore, et se promenant dans les rues +de Rome entre sa femme et son mari; ayant deux plaisirs: voir le +peuple se jeter sur les pièces d'or, les diamants et les +perles, et voir les lions se jeter sur le peuple; incendiaire par +curiosité et parricide par désoeuvrement.' Nor need +we stop at Nero. Over Vitellius at his banquets, over Hadrian in +his Tiburtine villa calling in vain on Death, over Commodus in the +arena, and Heliogabalus among the rose-leaves, the same livid +shadow of imperial Ennui hangs. We can even see it looming behind +the noble form of Marcus Aurelius, who, amid the ruins of empire +and the revolutions of belief, penned in his tent among the Quadi +those maxims of endurance which were powerless to regenerate the +world.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_42" id="Footnote_1_42" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_42"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the +prelude to <i>Les Confessions d'un Enfant du Siècle</i> and +<i>Les Nuits</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Roman again, in the true sense of the word, is the Lucretian +philosophy of Conscience. Christianity has claimed the celebrated +imprecation of Persius upon tyrants for her own, as though to her +alone belonged the secret of the soul-tormenting sense of guilt. +Yet it is certain that we owe to the Romans that conception of sin +bearing its own fruit of torment which the Latin +Fathers—Augustine and Tertullian— <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg165" id="pg165">165</a></span> imposed with +such terrific force upon the mediæval consciousness. There is +no need to conclude that Persius was a Christian because he +wrote—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Magne pater divum, sævos punire tyrannos, +etc.,</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>when we know that he had before his eyes that passage in the +third book of the 'De Rerum Naturâ,' (978-1023) which reduces +the myths of Tityos and Sisyphus and Cerberus and the Furies to +facts of the human soul:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">sed metus in vita poenarum pro male factis</div> + +<div class="i4">est insignibus insignis, scelerisque luella,</div> + +<div class="i4">carcer et horribilis de saxo iactu' deorsum,</div> + +<div class="i4">verbera carnifices robur pix lammina +tædæ;</div> + +<div class="i4">quæ tamen etsi absunt, at mens sibi conscia +facti</div> + +<div class="i4">præmetuens adhibet stimulos terretque +flagellis</div> + +<div class="i4">nec videt interea qui terminus esse malorum</div> + +<div class="i4">possit nec quæ sit poenarum denique +finis</div> + +<div class="i4">atque eadem metuit magis hæc ne in morte +gravescant.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Greeks, by personifying those secret terrors, had removed +them into a region of existences separate from man. They became +dread goddesses, who might to some extent be propitiated by +exorcisms or expiatory rites. This was in strict accordance with +the mythopoeic and artistic quality of the Greek intellect. The +stern and somewhat prosaic rectitude of the Roman broke through +such figments of the fancy, and exposed the sore places of the soul +itself. The theory of the Conscience, moreover, is part of the +Lucretian polemic against false notions of the gods and the +pernicious belief in hell.</p> + +<p>Positivism and Realism were qualities of Roman as distinguished +from Greek culture. There was no self-delusion in +Lucretius—no attempt, however unconscious, to compromise +unpalatable truth, or to invest philosophy with the charm of myth. +A hundred illustrations might be chosen to prove his method of +setting forth thought with unadorned simplicity. These, however, +are familiar to any one who has but opened <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg166" id="pg166">166</a></span> the 'De Rerum Naturâ.' +It is more profitable to trace this Roman ruggedness in the poet's +treatment of the subject which more than any other seems to have +preoccupied his intellect and fascinated his imagination—that +is Death. His poem has been called by a great critic the 'poem of +Death.' Shakspere's line—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">And Death once dead, there's no more dying +then,</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>might be written as a motto on the title-page of the book, which +is full of passages like this:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">scire licet nobis nil esse in morte timendum</div> + +<div class="i4">nec miserum fieri qui non est posse neque +hilum</div> + +<div class="i4">differre anne ullo fuerit iam tempore natus,</div> + +<div class="i4">mortalem vitam mors cum immortalis ademit.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>His whole mind was steeped in the thought of death; and though +he can hardly be said to have written 'the words that shall make +death exhilarating,' he devoted his genius, in all its energy, to +removing from before men the terror of the doom that waits for all. +Sometimes, in his attempt at consolation, he adduces images which, +like the Delphian knife, are double-handled, and cut both +ways:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">hinc indignatur se mortalem esse creatum</div> + +<div class="i4">nec videt in vera nullum fore morte alium se</div> + +<div class="i4">qui possit vivus sibi se lugere peremptum</div> + +<div class="i4">stansque iacentem se lacerari urive dolere.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This suggests, by way of contrast, Blake's picture of the soul +that has just left the body and laments her separation. As we read, +we are inclined to lay the book down, and wonder whether the +argument is, after all, conclusive. May not the spirit, when she +has quitted her old house, be forced to weep and wring her hands, +and stretch vain shadowy arms to the limbs that were so dear? No +one has felt more profoundly than Lucretius the pathos of the dead. +The intensity with <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg167" id= +"pg167">167</a></span> which he realised what we must lose in dying +and what we leave behind of grief to those who loved us, reaches a +climax of restrained passion in this well-known +paragraph:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">'iam iam non domus accipiet te læta, neque +uxor</div> + +<div class="i4">optima nec dulces occurrent oscula nati</div> + +<div class="i4">præripere et tacita pectus dulcedine +tangent.</div> + +<div class="i4">non poteris factis florentibus esse, tuisque</div> + +<div class="i4">præsidium. misero misere' aiunt 'omnia +ademit</div> + +<div class="i4">una dies infesta tibi tot præmia +vitæ.'</div> + +<div class="i4">illud in his rebus non addunt 'nec tibi earum</div> + +<div class="i4">iam desiderium rerum super insidet una.'</div> + +<div class="i4">quod bene si videant animo dictisque +sequantur,</div> + +<div class="i4">dissoluant animi magno se angore metuque.</div> + +<div class="i4">'tu quidem ut es leto sopitus, sic eris +ævi</div> + +<div class="i4">quod superest cunctis privatu' doloribus +ægris.</div> + +<div class="i4">at nos horrifico cinefactum te prope busto</div> + +<div class="i4">insatiabiliter deflevimus, æternumque</div> + +<div class="i4">nulla dies nobis mærorem e pectore +demet.'</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Images, again, of almost mediæval grotesqueness, rise in +his mind when he contemplates the universality of Death. Simonides +had dared to say: 'One horrible Charybdis waits for all.' That was +as near a discord as a Greek could venture on. Lucretius describes +the open gate and 'huge wide-gaping maw' which must devour heaven, +earth, and sea, and all that they contain:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">haut igitur leti præclusa est ianua +cælo</div> + +<div class="i4">nec soli terræque neque altis æquoris +undis,</div> + +<div class="i4">sed patet immani et vasto respectat hiatu.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The ever-during battle of life and death haunts his imagination. +Sometimes he sets it forth in philosophical array of argument. +Sometimes he touches on the theme with elegiac pity:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i12">miscetur funere vagor</div> + +<div class="i4">quem pueri tollunt visentis luminis oras;</div> + +<div class="i4">nec nox ulla diem neque noctem aurora +secutast</div> + +<div class="i4">quæ non audierit mixtos vagitibus +ægris</div> + +<div class="i4">ploratus mortis comites et funeris atri.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg168" id="pg168">168</a></span> +Then again he returns, with obstinate persistence, to describe how +the dread of death, fortified by false religion, hangs like a pall +over humanity, and how the whole world is a cemetery overshadowed +by cypresses. The most sustained, perhaps, of these passages is at +the beginning of the third book (lines 31 to 93). The most +profoundly melancholy is the description of the new-born child (v. +221):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i9">quare mors immatura vagatur?</div> + +<div class="i4">tum porro puer, ut sævis proiectus ab +undis</div> + +<div class="i4">navita, nudus humi iacet, infans, indigus +omni</div> + +<div class="i4">vitali auxilio, cum primum in luminis oras</div> + +<div class="i4">nixibus ex alvo matris natura profudit,</div> + +<div class="i4">vagituque locum lugubri complet, ut +æcumst</div> + +<div class="i4">cui tantum in vita restet transire malorum.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Disease and old age, as akin to Death, touch his imagination +with the same force. He rarely alludes to either without some lines +as terrible as these (iii. 472, 453):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">nam dolor ac morbus leti fabricator +uterquest.</div> + +<div class="i4">claudicat ingenium, delirat lingua, labat +mens.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Another kindred subject affects him with an equal pathos. He +sees the rising and decay of nations, age following after age, like +waves hurrying to dissolve upon a barren shore, and writes (ii. +75):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i10">sic rerum summa novatur</div> + +<div class="i4">semper, et inter se mortales mutua vivunt,</div> + +<div class="i4">augescunt aliæ gentes, aliæ +minuuntur,</div> + +<div class="i4">inque brevi spatio mutantur sæcla +animantum</div> + +<div class="i4">et quasi cursores vitai lampada tradunt.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Although the theme is really the procession of life through +countless generations, it obtains a tone of sadness from the sense +of intervenient decay and change. No Greek had the heart thus to +dilate his imagination with the very element of death. What the +Greeks commemorated when they spoke of Death was the loss of the +lyre and the hymeneal chaunt, and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg169" id="pg169">169</a></span> the passage across dim waves to a +sunless land. Nor indeed does Lucretius, like the modern poet of +Democracy, ascend into the regions of ecstatic trance:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee,</div> + +<div class="i4">Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>He keeps his reason cool, and sternly contemplates the thought +of the annihilation which awaits all perishable combinations of +eternal things. Like Milton, Lucretius delights in giving the life +of his imagination to abstractions. Time, with his retinue of ages, +sweeps before his vision, and he broods in fancy over the +illimitable ocean of the universe. The fascination of the infinite +is the quality which, more than any other, separates Lucretius as a +Roman poet from the Greeks.</p> + +<p>Another distinctive feature of his poetry Lucretius inherited as +part of his birthright. This is the sense of Roman greatness. It +pervades the poem, and may be felt in every part; although to +Athens, and the Greek sages, Democritus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, +Heraclitus, and Epicurus, as the fountain-heads of soul-delivering +culture, he reserves his most magnificent periods of panegyric. Yet +when he would fain persuade his readers that the fear of death is +nugatory, and that the future will be to them even as the past, it +is the shock of Rome with Carthage that he dwells upon as the +critical event of the world's history (iii. 830):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i5">Nil igitur mors est ad nos neque pertinet +hilum,</div> + +<div class="i4">quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.</div> + +<div class="i4">et velut anteacto nil tempore sensimus +ægri,</div> + +<div class="i4">ad confligendum venientibus undique Poenis,</div> + +<div class="i4">omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu</div> + +<div class="i4">horrida contremuere sub altis ætheris +oris,</div> + +<div class="i4"><i>in dubioque fuere utrorum ad regna +cadendum</i></div> + +<div class="i4"><i>omnibus humanis esset terraque +marique</i>,</div> + +<div class="i4">sic:</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The lines in italics could have been written by none but a <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg170" id="pg170">170</a></span> Roman +conscious that the conflict with Carthage had decided the absolute +empire of the habitable world. In like manner the description of a +military review (ii. 323) is Roman: so, too, is that of the +amphitheatre (iv. 75):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">et volgo faciunt id lutea russaque vela</div> + +<div class="i4">et ferrugina, cum magnis intenta theatris</div> + +<div class="i4">per malos volgata trabesque trementia +flutant.</div> + +<div class="i4">namque ibi consessum caveai supter et omnem</div> + +<div class="i4">scænai speciem, patrum coetumque +decorum</div> + +<div class="i4">inficiunt coguntque suo fluitare colore.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The imagination of Lucretius, however, was habitually less +affected by the particular than by the universal. He loved to dwell +upon the large and general aspects of things—on the +procession of the seasons, for example, rather than upon the +landscape of the Campagna in spring or autumn. Therefore it is only +occasionally and by accident that we find in his verse touches +peculiarly characteristic of the manners of his country. Therefore, +again, it has happened that modern critics have detected a lack of +patriotic interest in this most Roman of all Latin poets. Also may +it here be remembered, that the single line which sums up all the +history of Rome in one soul-shaking hexameter, is not Lucretian but +Virgilian:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Tantæ molis erat Romanam condere +gentem.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The custode of the Baths of Titus, when he lifts his torch to +explore those ruined arches, throws the wan light upon one place +where a Roman hand has scratched that verse in gigantic letters on +the cement. The colossal genius of Rome seems speaking to us, an +oracle no lapse of time can render dumb.</p> + +<p>But Lucretius is not only the poet <i>par excellence</i> of +Rome. He will always rank also among the first philosophical poets +of the world: and here we find a second standpoint for inquiry. The +question how far it is practicable to express <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg171" id="pg171">171</a></span> philosophy in +verse, and to combine the accuracy of scientific language with the +charm of rhythm and the ornaments of the fancy, is one which +belongs rather to modern than to ancient criticism. In the progress +of culture there has been an ever-growing separation between the +several spheres of intellectual activity. What Livy said about the +Roman Empire is true now of knowledge: <i>magnitudine laborat +suâ</i>; so that the labour of specialising and +distinguishing has for many centuries been all-important. Not only +do we disbelieve in the desirability of smearing honey upon the lip +of the medicine-glass through which the draught of erudition has to +be administered; but we know for certain that it is only at the +meeting-points between science and emotion that the philosophic +poet finds a proper sphere. Whatever subject-matter can be +permeated or penetrated with strong human feeling is fit for verse. +Then the rhythms and the forms of poetry to which high passions +naturally move, become spontaneous. The emotion is paramount, and +the knowledge conveyed is valuable as supplying fuel to the fire of +feeling. There are, were, and always will be high imaginative +points of vantage commanding the broad fields of knowledge, upon +which the poet may take his station to survey the world and all +that it contains. But it has long ceased to be his function to set +forth, in any kind of metre, systems of speculative thought or +purely scientific truths. This was not the case in the old world. +There was a period in the development of the intellect when the +abstractions of logic appeared like intuitions, and guesses about +the structure of the universe still wore the garb of fancy. When +physics and metaphysics were scarcely distinguished from mythology, +it was natural to address the Muses at the outset of a treatise of +ontology, and to cadence a theory of elemental substances in +hexameter verse. Thus the philosophical poems of Xenophanes, +Parmenides, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg172" id= +"pg172">172</a></span> Empedocles belonged essentially to a +transitional stage of human culture.</p> + +<p>There is a second species of poetry to which the name of +philosophical may be given, though it better deserves that of +mystical. Pantheism occupies a middle place between a scientific +theory of the universe and a form of religious enthusiasm. It +supplies an element in which the poetic faculty can move with +freedom: for its conclusions, in so far as they pretend to +philosophy, are large and general, and the emotions which it +excites are co-extensive with the world. Therefore, Pantheistic +mysticism, from the Bhagavadgita of the far East, through the +Persian Soofis, down to the poets of our own century, Goethe, and +Shelley, and Wordsworth, and Whitman, and many more whom it would +be tedious to enumerate, has generated a whole tribe of philosophic +singers.</p> + +<p>Yet a third class may be mentioned. Here we have to deal with +what are called didactic poems. These, like the metaphysical epic, +began to flourish in early Greece at the moment when exact thought +was dividing itself laboriously from myths and fancies. Hesiod with +his poem on the life of man leads the way; and the writers of moral +sentences in elegiac verse, among whom Solon and Theognis occupy +the first place, follow. Latin literature contributes highly +artificial specimens of this kind in the 'Georgics' of Virgil, the +stoical diatribes of Persius, and the 'Ars Poetica' of Horace. +Didactic verse had a special charm for the genius of the Latin +race. The name of such poems in the Italian literature of the +Renaissance is legion. The French delighted in the same style under +the same influences; nor can we fail to attribute the 'Essay on +Man' and the 'Essay on Criticism' of our own Pope to a similar +revival in England of Latin forms of art. The taste for didactic +verse has declined. Yet in its stead another sort of philosophical +poetry has grown up in this century, which, for <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg173" id="pg173">173</a></span> the want of a +better term, may be called psychological. It deserves this title, +inasmuch as the motive-interest of the art in question is less the +passion or the action of humanity than the analysis of the same. +The 'Faust' of Goethe, the 'Prelude' and 'Excursion' of Wordsworth, +Browning's 'Sordello' and Mrs. Browning's 'Aurora Leigh,' together +with the 'Musings' of Coleridge and the 'In Memoriam' of Tennyson, +may be roughly reckoned in this class. It will be noticed that +nothing has been said about professedly religious poetry, much of +which attaches itself to mysticism, while some, like the 'Divine +Comedy' of Dante, is philosophic in the truest sense of the +word.</p> + +<p>Where, then, are we to place Lucretius? He was a Roman, imbued +with the didactic predilections of the Latin race; and the didactic +quality of the 'De Rerum Naturâ' is unmistakable. Yet it +would be uncritical to place this poem in the class which derives +from Hesiod. It belongs really to the succession of Xenophanes, +Parmenides, and Empedocles. As such it was an anachronism. The +specific moment in the development of thought at which the +Parmenidean Epic was natural has been already described. The Romans +of the age of Lucretius had advanced far beyond it. The idealistic +metaphysics of the Socratic school, the positive ethics of the +Stoics, and the profound materialism of Epicurus, had accustomed +the mind to habits of exact and subtle thinking, prolonged from +generation to generation upon the same lines of speculative +inquiry. Philosophy expressed in verse was out of date. Moreover, +the very myths had been rationalised. Euhemerus had even been +translated into Latin by Ennius, and his prosaic explanations of +Greek legend had found acceptance with the essentially positive +Roman intellect. Lucretius himself, it may be said in passing, +thought it worth while to offer a philosophical explanation of the +Greek mythology. The Cybele of the poets <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg174" id="pg174">174</a></span> is shown in one of his +sublimest passages (ii. 600-645) to be Earth. To call the sea +Neptune, corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus, seems to him a simple folly +(ii. 652-657). We have already seen how he reduces the fiends and +spectres of the Greek Hades to facts of moral subjectivity (iii. +978-1023). In another place he attacks the worship of Phoebus and +the stars (v. 110); in yet another he upsets the belief in the +Centaurs, Scylla, and Chimæra (v. 877-924) with a gravity +which is almost comic. Such arguments formed a necessary element in +his polemic against foul religion (foeda religio—turpis +religio); to deliver men from which (i. 62-112), by establishing +firmly in their minds the conviction that the gods exist far away +from this world in unconcerned tranquillity (ii. 646), and by +substituting the notion of Nature for that of deity (ii. 1090), was +the object of his scientific demonstration.</p> + +<p>Lucretius, therefore, had outgrown mythology, was hostile to +religion, and burned with unsurpassable enthusiasm to indoctrinate +his Roman readers with the weighty conclusions of systematised +materialism. Yet he chose the vehicle of hexameter verse, and +trammelled his genius with limitations which Empedocles, four +hundred years before, must have found almost intolerable. It needed +the most ardent intellectual passion and the loftiest inspiration +to sustain on his far flight a poet who had forged a hoplite's +panoply for singing robes. Both passion and inspiration were +granted to Lucretius in full measure. And just as there was +something contradictory between the scientific subject-matter and +the poetical form of his masterpiece, so the very sources of his +poetic strength were such as are usually supposed to depress the +soul. His passion was for death, annihilation, godlessness. It was +not the eloquence, but the force of logic in Epicurus that roused +his enthusiasm:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">ergo vivida vis animi pervicit et extra</div> + +<div class="i4">processit longe flammantia moenia mundi.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg175" id="pg175">175</a></span> +No other poet who ever lived in any age, or any shore, drew +inspiration from founts more passionless and more impersonal.</p> + +<p>The 'De Rerum Naturâ' is therefore an attempt, unique in +its kind, to combine philosophical exposition and poetry in an age +when the requirements of the former had already outgrown the +resources of the latter. Throughout the poem we trace a discord +between the matter and the form. The frost of reason and the fire +of fancy war in deadly conflict; for the Lucretian system destroyed +nearly everything with which the classical imagination loved to +play. It was only in some high ethereal region, before the majestic +thought of Death or the new Myth of Nature, that the two faculties +of the poet's genius met for mutual support. Only at rare intervals +did he allow himself to make artistic use of mere mythology, as in +the celebrated exordium of the first book, or the description of +the Seasons in the fifth book (737-745). For the most part reason +and fancy worked separately: after long passages of scientific +explanation, Lucretius indulged his readers with those pictures of +unparalleled sublimity and grace which are the charm of the whole +poem; or dropping the phraseology of atoms, void, motion, chance, +he spoke at times of Nature as endowed with reason and a will (v. +186, 811, 846).</p> + +<p>It would be beyond the scope of this essay to discuss the +particular form given by Lucretius to the Democritean philosophy. +He believed the universe to be composed of atoms, infinite in +number, and variable, to a finite extent, in form, which drift +slantingly through an infinite void. Their combinations under the +conditions of what we call space and time are transitory, while +they remain themselves imperishable. Consequently, as the soul +itself is corporeally constituted, and as thought and sensation +depend on mere material idola, men may divest themselves of any +fear of the hereafter. There is no such thing as providence, nor do +the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg176" id="pg176">176</a></span> +gods concern themselves with the kaleidoscopic medley of atoms in +transient combination which we call our world. The latter were +points of supreme interest to Lucretius. He seems to have cared for +the cosmology of Epicurus chiefly as it touched humanity through +ethics and religion. To impartial observers, the identity or the +divergence of the forms assumed by scientific hypothesis at +different periods of the world's history is not a matter of much +importance. Yet a peculiar interest has of late been given to the +Lucretian materialism by the fact that physical speculation has +returned to what is substantially the same ground. The most modern +theories of evolution and of molecular structure may be stated in +language which, allowing for the progress made by exact thought +during the last twenty centuries, is singularly like that of +Lucretius. The Roman poet knew fewer facts than are familiar to our +men of science, and was far less able to analyse one puzzle into a +whole group of unexplained phenomena. He had besides but a feeble +grasp upon those discoveries which subserve the arts of life and +practical utility. But as regards <i>absolute +knowledge</i>—knowledge, that is to say, of what the universe +really is, and of how it became what it seems to us to +be—Lucretius stood at the same point of ignorance as we, +after the labours of Darwin and of Spencer, of Helmholtz and of +Huxley, still do. Ontological speculation is as barren now as then, +and the problems of existence still remain insoluble. The chief +difference indeed between him and modern investigators is that they +have been lessoned by the experience of the last two thousand years +to know better the depths of human ignorance, and the directions in +which it is possible to sound them.</p> + +<p>It may not be uninteresting to collect a few passages in which +the Roman poet has expressed in his hexameters the lines of thought +adopted by our most advanced theorists. <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg177" id="pg177">177</a></span> Here is the general +conception of Nature, working by her own laws toward the +achievement of that result which we apprehend through the medium of +the senses (ii. 1090):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i5">Quæ bene cognita si teneas, natura +videtur</div> + +<div class="i4">libera continuo dominis privata superbis</div> + +<div class="i4">ipsa sua per se sponte omnia dis agere +expers.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here again is a demonstration of the absurdity of supposing that +the world was made for the use of men (v. 156):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">dicere porro hominum causa voluisse parare</div> + +<div class="i4">præclaram mundi naturam proptereaque</div> + +<div class="i4">adlaudabile opus divom laudare decere</div> + +<div class="i4">æternumque putare atque inmortale +futurum</div> + +<div class="i4">nec fas esse, deum quod sit ratione vetusta</div> + +<div class="i4">gentibus humanis fundatum perpetuo ævo,</div> + +<div class="i4">sollicitare suis ulla vi ex sedibus umquam</div> + +<div class="i4">nec verbis vexare et ab imo evertere summa,</div> + +<div class="i4">cetera de genere hoc adfingere et addere, +Memmi</div> + +<div class="i4">desiperest.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>A like cogent rhetoric is directed against the arguments of +toleology (iv. 823):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i5">Illud in his rebus vitium vementer avessis</div> + +<div class="i4">effugere, errorem vitareque +præmetuenter,</div> + +<div class="i4">lumina ne facias oculorum clara creata,</div> + +<div class="i4">prospicere ut possemus, et ut proferre +queamus</div> + +<div class="i4">proceros passus, ideo fastigia posse</div> + +<div class="i4">surarum ac feminum pedibus fundata plicari,</div> + +<div class="i4">bracchia tum porro validis ex apta lacertis</div> + +<div class="i4">esse manusque datas utraque ex parte +ministras,</div> + +<div class="i4">ut facere ad vitam possemus quæ foret +usus.</div> + +<div class="i4">cetera de genere hoc inter quæcumque +pretantur</div> + +<div class="i4">omnia perversa præpostera sunt ratione,</div> + +<div class="i4">nil ideo quoniam natumst in corpore ut uti</div> + +<div class="i4">possemus, sed quod natumst id procreat usum.</div> + +<div class="i4">nec fuit ante videre oculorum lumina nata</div> + +<div class="i4">nec dictis orare prius quam lingua creatast,</div> + +<div class="i4">sed potius longe linguæ præcessit +origo</div> + +<div class="i4">sermonem multoque creatæ sunt prius +aures</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg178" id= +"pg178">178</a></span> quam sonus est auditus, et omnia denique +membra</div> + +<div class="i4">ante fuere, ut opinor, eorum quam foret usus.</div> + +<div class="i4">haud igitur potuere utendi crescere causa.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The ultimate dissolution and the gradual decay of the +terrestrial globe is set forth in the following luminous passage +(ii. 1148):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Sic igitur magni quoque circum moenia mundi</div> + +<div class="i2">expugnata dabunt labem putrisque ruinas.</div> + +<div class="i2">iamque adeo fracta est ætas effetaque +tellus</div> + +<div class="i2">vix animalia parva creat quæ cuncta +creavit</div> + +<div class="i2">sæcla deditque ferarum ingentia corpora +partu.<a name="FNanchor_1_43" id="FNanchor_1_43" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_43" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The same mind which recognised these probabilities knew also +that our globe is not single, but that it forms one among an +infinity of sister orbs (ii. 1084):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">quapropter cælum simili ratione +fatendumst</div> + +<div class="i2">terramque et solem lunam mare, cetera quæ +sunt</div> + +<div class="i2">non esse unica, sed numero magis innumerali.<a +name="FNanchor_2_44" id="FNanchor_2_44" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_44" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When Lucretius takes upon himself to describe the process of +becoming which made the world what it now is, he seems to incline +to a theory not at all dissimilar to that of unassisted evolution +(v. 419):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">nam certe neque consilio primordia rerum</div> + +<div class="i4">ordine se suo quæque sagaci mente +locarunt</div> + +<div class="i4">nec quos quæque darent motus pepigere +profecto,</div> + +<div class="i4">sed quia multa modis multis primordia rerum</div> + +<div class="i4">ex infinito iam tempore percita plagis</div> + +<div class="i4">ponderibusque suis consuerunt concita ferri</div> + +<div class="i4">omnimodisque coire atque omnia pertemptare,</div> + +<div class="i4">quæcumque inter se possent congressa +creare,</div> + +<div class="i4">propterea fit uti magnum volgata per +ævom</div> + +<div class="i4">omne genus coetus et motus experiundo</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg179" id= +"pg179">179</a></span> tandem conveniant ea quæ convecta +repente</div> + +<div class="i4">magnarum rerum fiunt exordia sæpe,</div> + +<div class="i4">terrai maris et cæli generisque +animantum.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_43" id="Footnote_1_43" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_43"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Compare +book v. 306-317 on the evidences of decay continually at work in +the fabric of the world.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_44" id="Footnote_2_44" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_44"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The +same truth is insisted on with even greater force of language in +vi. 649-652.</p> +</div> + +<p>Entering into the details of the process, he describes the many +ill-formed, amorphous beginnings of organised life upon the globe, +which came to nothing, 'since nature set a ban upon their increase' +(v. 837-848); and then proceeds to explain how, in the struggle for +existence, the stronger prevailed over the weaker (v. 855-863). +What is really interesting in this exposition is that Lucretius +ascribes to nature the volition ('convertebat ibi natura foramina +terræ;' 'quoniam natura absterruit auctum') which has +recently been attributed by materialistic speculators to the same +maternal power.</p> + +<p>To press these points, and to neglect the gap which separates +Lucretius from thinkers fortified by the discoveries of modern +chemistry, astronomy, physiology, and so forth, would be childish. +All we can do is to point to the fact that the circumambient +atmosphere of human ignorance, with reference to the main matters +of speculation, remains undissipated. The mass of experience +acquired since the age of Lucretius is enormous, and is infinitely +valuable; while our power of tabulating, methodising, and extending +the sphere of experimental knowledge seems to be unlimited. Only +ontological deductions, whether negative or affirmative, remain +pretty much where they were then.</p> + +<p>The fame of Lucretius, however, rests not on this foundation of +hypothesis. In his poetry lies the secret of a charm which he will +continue to exercise as long as humanity chooses to read Latin +verse. No poet has created a world of larger and nobler images, +designed with the <i>sprezzatura</i> of indifference to mere +gracefulness, but all the more fascinating because of the artist's +negligence. There is something monumental in the effect produced by +his large-sounding single <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg180" id= +"pg180">180</a></span> epithets and simple names. We are at home +with the dæmonic life of nature when he chooses to bring Pan +and his following before our eyes (iv. 580). Or, again, the Seasons +pass like figures on some frieze of Mantegna, to which, by divine +accident, has been added the glow of Titian's colouring<a name= +"FNanchor_1_45" id="FNanchor_1_45" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_45" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> (v. +737):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">it ver et Venus, et veris prænuntius +ante</div> + +<div class="i4">pennatus graditur zephyrus, vestigia propter</div> + +<div class="i4">Flora quibus mater præspargens ante +viai</div> + +<div class="i4">cuncta coloribus egregiis et odoribus opplet.</div> + +<div class="i4">inde loci sequitur calor aridus et comes una</div> + +<div class="i4">pulverulenta Ceres et etesia flabra +aquilonum,</div> + +<div class="i4">inde antumnus adit, graditur simul Eubius +Euan,</div> + +<div class="i4">inde aliæ tempestates ventique +secuntur,</div> + +<div class="i4">altitonans Volturnus et auster fulmine +pollens.</div> + +<div class="i4">tandem bruma nives adfert pigrumque rigorem,</div> + +<div class="i4">prodit hiemps, sequitur crepitans hanc dentibus +algor.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>With what a noble style, too, are the holidays of the primeval +pastoral folk described (v. 1379-1404). It is no mere celebration +of the <i>bell' età dell' oro</i>: but we see the woodland +glades, and hear the songs of shepherds, and feel the hush of +summer among rustling forest trees, while at the same time all is +far away, in a better, simpler, larger age. The sympathy of +Lucretius for every form of country life was very noticeable. It +belonged to that which was most deeply and sincerely poetic in the +Latin genius, whence Virgil drew his sweetest strain of melancholy, +and Horace his most unaffected pictures, and Catullus the +tenderness of his best lines on Sirmio. No Roman surpassed the +pathos with which <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg181" id= +"pg181">181</a></span> Lucretius described the separation of a cow +from her calf (ii. 352-365). The same note indeed was touched by +Virgil in his lines upon the forlorn nightingale, and in the +peroration to the third 'Georgic.' But the style of Virgil is more +studied, the feeling more artistically elaborated. It would be +difficult to parallel such Lucretian passages in Greek poetry. The +Greeks lacked an undefinable something of rusticity which dignified +the Latin race. This quality was not altogether different from what +we call homeliness. Looking at the busts of Romans, and noticing +their resemblance to English country gentlemen, I have sometimes +wondered whether the Latin genius, just in those points where it +differed from the Greek, was not approximated to the English.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_45" id="Footnote_1_45" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_45"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +elaborate illustration of the first four lines of this passage, +painted by Botticelli (in the Florence Academy of Fine Arts), +proves Botticelli's incapacity or unwillingness to deal with the +subject in the spirit of the original. It is graceful and 'subtle' +enough, but not Lucretian.</p> +</div> + +<p>All subjects needing a large style, brief and rapid, but at the +same time luminous with imagination, were sure of the right +treatment from Lucretius. This is shown by his enumeration of the +celestial signs (v. 1188):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">in cæloque deum sedes et templa +locarunt,</div> + +<div class="i4">per cælum volvi quia nox et luna +videtur,</div> + +<div class="i4">luna dies et nox et noctis signa severa</div> + +<div class="i4">noctivagæque faces cæli flammæque +volantes,</div> + +<div class="i4">nubila sol imbres nix venti fulmina grando</div> + +<div class="i4">et rapidi fremitus et murmura magna minarum.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Again, he never failed to rise to an occasion which required the +display of fervid eloquence. The Roman eloquence, which in its +energetic volubility was the chief force of Juvenal, added a tidal +strength and stress of storm to the quick gathering thoughts of the +greater poet. The exordia to the first and second books, the +analysis of Love in the fourth, the praises of Epicurus in the +third and fifth, the praises of Empedocles and Ennius in the first, +the elaborate passage on the progress of civilisation in the fifth, +and the description of the plague at <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg182" id="pg182">182</a></span> Athens which closes the sixth, +are noble instances of the sublimest poetry sustained and hurried +onward by the volume of impassioned improvisation. It is difficult +to imagine that Lucretius wrote slowly. The strange word +<i>vociferari</i>, which he uses so often, and which the Romans of +the Augustan age almost dropped from their poetic vocabulary, seems +exactly made to suit his utterance. Yet at times he tempers the +full torrent of resonant utterance with divine tranquillity, and +leaves upon our mind that sense of powerful aloofness from his +subject, which only belongs to the mightiest poets in their most +majestic moments. One instance of this rare felicity of style shall +end the list of our quotations (v. 1194):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">O genus infelix humanum, talia divis</div> + +<div class="i4">cum tribuit facta atque iras adiunxit +acerbas!</div> + +<div class="i4">quantos tum gemitus ipsi sibi, quantaque +nobis</div> + +<div class="i4">volnera, quas lacrimas peperere minoribu' +nostris!</div> + +<div class="i4">nec pietas ullast velatum sæpe videri</div> + +<div class="i4">vertier ad lapidem atque omnis accedere ad +aras</div> + +<div class="i4">nec procumbere humi prostratum et pandere +palmas</div> + +<div class="i4">ante deum delubra nec aras sanguine multo</div> + +<div class="i4">spargere quadrupedum nec votis nectere vota,</div> + +<div class="i4">sed mage pacata posse omnia mente tueri.</div> + +<div class="i4">nam cum suspicimus magni cælestia mundi</div> + +<div class="i4">ellisque micantibus æthera fixum,</div> + +<div class="i4">et venit in mentem solis lunæque +viarum,</div> + +<div class="i4">tunc aliis oppressa malis in pectora cura</div> + +<div class="i4">illa quoque expergefactum caput erigere +infit,</div> + +<div class="i4">ne quæ forte deum nobis inmensa +potestas</div> + +<div class="i4">sit, vario motu quæ candida sidera +verset.</div> + +<div class="i4">temptat enim dubiam mentem rationis egestas,</div> + +<div class="i4">ecquænam fuerit mundi genitalis origo,</div> + +<div class="i4">et simul ecquæ sit finis, quoad moenia +mundi</div> + +<div class="i4">solliciti motus hunc possint ferre laborem,</div> + +<div class="i4">an divinitus æterna donata salute</div> + +<div class="i4">perpetuo possint ævi labentia tractu</div> + +<div class="i4">inmensi validas ævi contemnere viris.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It would be impossible to adduce from any other poet a <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg183" id="pg183">183</a></span> passage +in which the deepest doubts and darkest terrors and most vexing +questions that beset the soul, are touched with an eloquence more +stately and a pathos more sublime. Without losing the sense of +humanity, we are carried off into the infinite. Such poetry is as +imperishable as the subject of which it treats.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg184" id= +"pg184">184</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="ANTINOUS" id="ANTINOUS" /><i>ANTINOUS</i></h3> + +<p>Visitors to picture and sculpture galleries are haunted by the +forms of two handsome young men—Sebastian and Antinous. Both +were saints: the one of decadent Paganism, the other of +mythologising Christianity. According to the popular beliefs to +which they owed their canonisation, both suffered death in the +bloom of earliest manhood for the faith that burned in them. There +is, however, this difference between the two—that whereas +Sebastian is a shadowy creature of the pious fancy, Antinous +preserves a marked and unmistakable personality. All his statues +are distinguished by unchanging characteristics. The pictures of +Sebastian vary according to the ideal of adolescent beauty +conceived by each successive artist. In the frescoes of Perugino +and Luini he shines with the pale pure light of saintliness. On the +canvas of Sodoma he reproduces the voluptuous charm of youthful +Bacchus, with so much of anguish in his martyred features as may +serve to heighten his dæmonic fascination. On the richer +panels of the Venetian masters he glows with a flame of earthly +passion aspiring heavenward. Under Guido's hand he is a model of +mere carnal comeliness. And so forth through the whole range of the +Italian painters. We know Sebastian only by his arrows. The case is +very different with Antinous. Depicted under diverse +attributes—as Hermes of the wrestling-ground, as +Aristæus or Vertumnus, as Dionysus, as Ganymede, as Herakles, +or as a god of ancient Egypt—his individuality is always +prominent. No metamorphosis of <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg185" id="pg185">185</a></span> divinity can change the +lineaments he wore on earth. And this difference, so marked in the +artistic presentation of the two saints, is no less striking in +their several histories. The legend of Sebastian tells us nothing +to be relied upon, except that he was a Roman soldier converted to +the Christian faith, and martyred. In spite of the perplexity and +mystery that involve the death of Antinous in impenetrable gloom, +he is a true historic personage, no phantom of myth, but a man as +real as Hadrian, his master.</p> + +<p>Antinous, as he appears in sculpture, is a young man of eighteen +or nineteen years, almost faultless in his form. His beauty is not +of a pure Greek type. Though perfectly proportioned and developed +by gymnastic exercises to the true athletic fulness, his limbs are +round and florid, suggesting the possibility of early +over-ripeness. The muscles are not trained to sinewy firmness, but +yielding and elastic; the chest is broad and singularly swelling; +and the shoulders are placed so far back from the thorax that the +breasts project beyond them in a massive arch. It has been asserted +that one shoulder is slightly lower than the other. Some of the +busts seem to justify this statement; but the appearance is due +probably to the different position of the two arms, one of which, +if carried out, would be lifted and the other be depressed. The +legs and arms are modelled with exquisite grace of outline; yet +they do not show that readiness for active service which is +noticeable in the statues of the Meleager, the Apoxyomenos, or the +Belvedere Hermes. The whole body combines Greek beauty of structure +with something of Oriental voluptuousness. The same fusion of +diverse elements may be traced in the head. It is not too large, +though more than usually broad, and is nobly set upon a massive +throat, slightly inclined forwards, as though this posture were +habitual; the hair lies thick in clusters, which only form curls at +the tips. The forehead <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg186" id= +"pg186">186</a></span> is low and somewhat square; the eyebrows are +level, of a peculiar shape, and very thick, converging so closely +as almost to meet above the deep-cut eyes. The nose is straight, +but blunter than is consistent with the Greek ideal. Both cheeks +and chin are delicately formed, but fuller than a severe taste +approves: one might trace in their rounded contours either a +survival of infantine innocence and immaturity, or else the sign of +rapidly approaching over-bloom. The mouth is one of the loveliest +ever carved; but here again the blending of the Greek and Oriental +types is visible. The lips, half parted, seem to pout; and the +distance between mouth and nostrils is exceptionally short. The +undefinable expression of the lips, together with the weight of the +brows and slumberous half-closed eyes, gives a look of sulkiness or +voluptuousness to the whole face. This, I fancy, is the first +impression which the portraits of Antinous produce; and Shelley has +well conveyed it by placing the two following phrases, 'eager and +impassioned tenderness' and 'effeminate sullenness,' in close +juxtaposition.<a name="FNanchor_1_46" id="FNanchor_1_46" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_46" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But, after longer +familiarity with the whole range of Antinous's portraits, and after +study of his life, we are brought to read the peculiar expression +of his face and form somewhat differently. A prevailing melancholy, +sweetness of temperament overshadowed by resignation, brooding +reverie, the innocence of youth, touched and saddened by a calm +resolve or an accepted doom—such are the sentences we form to +give distinctness to a still vague and uncertain impression. As we +gaze, Virgil's lines upon the young Marcellus recur to our mind: +what seemed sullen, becomes mournful; the unmistakable +voluptuousness is transfigured in tranquillity.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_46" id="Footnote_1_46" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_46"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Fragment, <i>The Coliseum</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p>After all is said and written, the statues of Antinous do not +render up their secret. Like some of the Egyptian gods with whom he +was associated, he remains for us a sphinx, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg187" id="pg187">187</a></span> secluded in the +shade of a 'mild mystery.' His soul, like the Harpocrates he +personated, seems to hold one finger on closed lips, in token of +eternal silence. One thing, however, is certain. We have before us +no figment of the artistic imagination, but a real youth of +incomparable beauty, just as nature made him, with all the +inscrutableness of undeveloped character, with all the pathos of a +most untimely doom, with the almost imperceptible imperfections +that render choice reality more permanently charming than the +ideal. It has been disputed whether the Antinous statues are +portraits or idealised works of inventive art; and it is usually +conceded that the sculptors of Hadrian's age were not able to +produce a new ideal type. Critics, therefore, like Helbig and +Overbeck, arrive at the conclusion that Antinous was one of +nature's masterpieces, modelled in bronze, marble, and granite with +almost flawless technical dexterity. Without attaching too much +weight to this kind of criticism, it is well to find the decisions +of experts in harmony with the instincts of simple observers. +Antinous is as real as any man who ever sat for his portrait to a +modern sculptor.</p> + +<p>But who was Antinous, and what is known of him? He was a native +of Bithynium or Claudiopolis, a Greek town claiming to have been a +colony from Arcadia, which was situated near the Sangarius, in the +Roman province of Bithynia; therefore he may have had pure Hellenic +blood in his veins, or, what is more probable, his ancestry may +have been hybrid between the Greek immigrants and the native +populations of Asia Minor. Antinous was probably born in the first +decade of the second century of our era. About his youth and +education we know nothing. He first appears upon the scene of the +world's history as Hadrian's friend. Whether the Emperor met with +him during his travels in Asia Minor, whether he found him among +the students of the University at <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg188" id="pg188">188</a></span> Athens, or whether the boy had +been sent to Rome in his childhood, must remain matter of the +merest conjecture. We do not even know for certain whether Antinous +was free or a slave. The report that he was one of the Emperor's +pages rests upon the testimony of Hegesippus, quoted by a Christian +Father, and cannot therefore be altogether relied upon. It +receives, however, some confirmation from the fact that Antinous is +more than once represented in the company of Hadrian and Trajan in +a page's hunting dress upon the basreliefs which adorn the Arch of +Constantine. The so-called Antinous-Castor of the Villa Albani is +probably of a similar character. Winckelmann, who adopted the +tradition as trustworthy, pointed out the similarity between the +portraits of Antinous and some lines in Phædrus, which +describe a curly-haired <i>atriensis</i>. If Antinous took the rank +of <i>atriensis</i> in the imperial <i>pædagogium</i>, his +position would have been, to say the least, respectable; for to +these upper servants was committed the charge of the <i>atrium</i>, +where the Romans kept their family archives, portraits, and works +of art. Yet he must have quitted this kind of service some time +before his death, since we find him in the company of Hadrian upon +one of those long journeys in which an <i>atriensis</i> would have +had no <i>atrium</i> to keep. By the time of Hadrian's visit to +Egypt, Antinous had certainly passed into the closest relationship +with his imperial master; and what we know of the Emperor's +inclination towards literary and philosophical society perhaps +justifies the belief that the youth he admitted to his friendship +had imbibed Greek culture, and had been initiated into those cloudy +metaphysics which amused the leisure of semi-Oriental thinkers in +the last age of decaying Paganism.</p> + +<p>It was a moment in the history of the human mind when East and +West were blending their traditions to form the husk of Christian +creeds and the fantastic visions of neo-Platonism. <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg189" id="pg189">189</a></span> Rome herself +had received with rapture the strange rites of Nilotic and of +Syrian superstition. Alexandria was the forge of fanciful +imaginations, the majority of which were destined to pass like +vapours and leave not a wrack behind, while a few fastened with the +force of dogma on the conscience of awakening Christendom. During +Hadrian's reign it was still uncertain which among the many hybrid +products of that motley age would live and flourish; and the +Emperor, we know, dreamed fondly of reviving the cults and +restoring the splendour of degenerate Hellas. At the same time he +was not averse to the more mystic rites of Egypt: in his villa at +Tivoli he built a Serapeum, and named one of its quarters Canopus. +What part Antinous may have taken in the projects of his friend and +master we know not; yet, when we come to consider the circumstances +of his death, it may not be superfluous to have thus touched upon +the intellectual conditions of the world in which he lived. The +mixed blood of the boy, born and bred in a Greek city near the +classic ground of Dindymean rites, and his beauty, blent of +Hellenic and Eastern qualities, may also not unprofitably be +remembered. In such a youth, nurtured between Greece and Asia, +admitted to the friendship of an emperor for whom neo-Hellenism was +a life's dream in the midst of grave state-cares, influenced by the +dark and symbolical creeds of a dimly apprehended East, might there +not have lurked some spark of enthusiasm combining the impulses of +Atys and Aristogeiton, pathetic even in its inefficiency when +judged by the light of modern knowledge, but heroic at that moment +in its boundless vista of great deeds to be accomplished?</p> + +<p>After journeying through Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine, +and Arabia, Hadrian, attended by Antinous, came to Egypt. He there +restored the tomb of Pompey, near Pelusium, with great +magnificence, and shortly afterwards <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg190" id="pg190">190</a></span> embarked from Alexandria upon the +Nile, proceeding on his journey through Memphis into the +Thebaïd. When he had arrived near an ancient city named Besa, +on the right bank of the river, he lost his friend. Antinous was +drowned in the Nile. He had thrown himself, it was believed, into +the water; seeking thus by a voluntary death to substitute his own +life for Hadrian's, and to avert predicted perils from the Roman +Empire. What these perils were, and whether Hadrian was ill, or +whether an oracle had threatened him with approaching calamity, we +do not know. Even supposition is at fault, because the date of the +event is still uncertain; some authorities placing Hadrian's +Egyptian journey in the year 122, and others in the year 130 A.D. +Of the two dates, the second seems the more probable. We are left +to surmise that, if the Emperor was in danger, the recent +disturbances which followed a new discovery of Apis, may have +exposed him to fanatical conspiracy. The same doubt affects an +ingenious conjecture that rumours which reached the Roman court of +a new rising in Judæa had disturbed the Emperor's mind, and +led to the belief that he was on the verge of a mysterious doom. He +had pacified the Empire and established its administration on a +solid basis. Yet the revolt of the indomitable Jews—more +dreaded since the days of Titus than any other perturbation of the +imperial economy—would have been enough, especially in Egypt, +to engender general uneasiness. However this may have been, the +grief of the Emperor, intensified either by gratitude or remorse, +led to the immediate canonisation of Antinous. The city where he +died was rebuilt, and named after him. His worship as a hero and as +a god spread far and wide throughout the provinces of the +Mediterranean. A new star, which appeared about the time of his +decease, was supposed to be his soul received into the company of +the immortals. Medals were struck in his honour, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg191" id="pg191">191</a></span> and countless +works of art were produced to make his memory undying. Great cities +wore wreaths of red lotos on his feast-day in commemoration of the +manner of his death. Public games were celebrated in his honour at +the city Antinoë, and also in Arcadian Mantinea. This +canonisation may probably have taken place in the fourteenth year +of Hadrian's reign, A.D. 130.<a name="FNanchor_1_47" id= +"FNanchor_1_47" /><a href="#Footnote_1_47" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> Antinous continued to be worshipped until the +reign of Valentinian.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_47" id="Footnote_1_47" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_47"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Overbeck, Hausrath, and Mommsen, following apparently the +conclusions arrived at by Flemmer in his work on Hadrian's +journeys, place it in 130 A.D. This would leave an interval of only +eight years between the deaths of Antinous and Hadrian. It may here +be observed that two medals of Antinous, referred by Rasche with +some hesitation to the Egyptian series, bear the dates of the +eighth and ninth years of Hadrian's reign. If these coins are +genuine, and if we accept Flemmer's conclusions, they must have +been struck in the lifetime of Antinous. Neither of them represents +Antinous with the insignia of deity: one gives the portrait of +Hadrian upon the reverse.</p> +</div> + +<p>Thus far I have told a simple story, as though the details of +the youth's last days were undisputed. Still we are as yet but on +the threshold of the subject. All that we have any right to take +for uncontested is that Antinous passed from this life near the +city of Besa, called thereafter Antinoopolis or Antinoë. +Whether he was drowned by accident, whether he drowned himself in +order to save Hadrian by vicarious suffering, or whether Hadrian +sacrificed him in order to extort the secrets of fate from +blood-propitiated deities, remains a question buried in the deepest +gloom. With a view to throwing such light as is possible upon the +matter, we must proceed to summon in their order the most +trustworthy authorities among the ancients.</p> + +<p>Dion Cassius takes precedence. In compiling his life of Hadrian, +he had beneath his eyes the Emperor's own 'Commentaries,' published +under the name of the freedman Phlegon. We therefore learn from him +at least what the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg192" id= +"pg192">192</a></span> friend of Antinous wished the world to know +about his death; and though this does not go for much, since +Hadrian is himself an accused person in the suit before us, yet the +whole Roman Empire may be said to have accepted his account, and +based on it a pious cult that held its own through the next three +centuries of growing Christianity. Dion, in the abstract of his +history compiled by Xiphilinus, speaks then to this effect: 'In +Egypt he also built the city named after Antinous. Now Antinous was +a native of Bithynium, a city of Bithynia, which we also call +Claudiopolis. He was Hadrian's favourite, and he died in Egypt: +whether by having fallen into the Nile, as Hadrian writes, or by +having been sacrificed, as the truth was. For Hadrian, as I have +said, was in general over-much given to superstitious subtleties, +and practised all kinds of sorceries and magic arts. At any rate he +so honoured Antinous, whether because of the love he felt for him, +or because he died voluntarily, since a willing victim was needed +for his purpose, that he founded a city in the place where he met +this fate, and called it after him, and dedicated statues, or +rather images, of him in, so to speak, the whole inhabited world. +Lastly, he affirmed that a certain star which he saw was the star +of Antinous, and listened with pleasure to the myths invented by +his companions about this star having really sprung from the soul +of his favourite, and having then for the first time appeared. For +which things he was laughed at.'</p> + +<p>We may now hear what Spartian, in his 'Vita Hadriani,' has to +say: 'He lost his favourite, Antinous, while sailing on the Nile, +and lamented him like a woman. About Antinous reports vary, for +some say that he devoted his life for Hadrian, while others hint +what his condition seems to prove, as well as Hadrian's excessive +inclination to luxury. Some Greeks, at the instance of Hadrian, +canonised him, asserting that oracles were <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg193" id="pg193">193</a></span> given by him, which Hadrian +himself is supposed to have made up.'</p> + +<p>In the third place comes Aurelius Victor: 'Others maintain that +this sacrifice of Antinous was both pious and religious; for when +Hadrian was wishing to prolong his life, and the magicians required +a voluntary vicarious victim, they say that, upon the refusal of +all others, Antinous offered himself.'</p> + +<p>These are the chief authorities. In estimating them we must +remember that, though Dion Cassius wrote less than a century after +the event narrated, he has come down to us merely in fragments and +in the epitome of a Byzantine of the twelfth century, when +everything that could possibly be done to discredit the worship of +Antinous, and to blacken the memory of Hadrian, had been attempted +by the Christian Fathers. On the other hand, Spartianus and +Aurelius Victor compiled their histories at too distant a date to +be of first-rate value. Taking the three reports together, we find +that antiquity differed about the details of Antinous's death. +Hadrian himself averred that his friend was drowned; and it was +surmised that he had drowned himself in order to prolong his +master's life. The courtiers, however, who had scoffed at Hadrian's +fondness for his favourite, and had laughed to see his sorrow for +his death, somewhat illogically came to the conclusion that +Antinous had been immolated by the Emperor, either because a victim +was needed to prolong his life, or because some human sacrifice was +required in order to complete a dark mysterious magic rite. Dion, +writing not very long after the event, believed that Antinous had +been immolated for some such purpose with his own consent. +Spartian, who wrote at the distance of more than a century, felt +uncertain about the question of self-devotion; but Aurelius Victor, +following after the interval of another century, unhesitatingly +adopted Dion's view, and gave it a fresh colour. This opinion he +summarised in a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg194" id= +"pg194">194</a></span> compact, authoritative form, upon which we +may perhaps found an assumption that the belief in Antinous, as a +self-devoted victim, had been gradually growing through two +centuries.</p> + +<p>There are therefore three hypotheses to be considered. The first +is that Antinous died an accidental death by drowning; the second +is, that Antinous, in some way or another, gave his life willingly +for Hadrian's; the third is, that Hadrian ordered his immolation in +the performance of magic rites.</p> + +<p>For the first of the three hypotheses we have the authority of +Hadrian himself, as quoted by Dion. The simple words +εἰς τον +Νειλον +εκπεσὼν imply no more than +accidental death; and yet, if the Emperor had believed the story of +his favourite's self-devotion, it is reasonable to suppose that he +would have recorded it in his 'Memoirs.' Accepting this view of the +case, we must refer the deification of Antinous wholly to Hadrian's +affection; and the tales of his <i>devotio</i> may have been +invented partly to flatter the Emperor's grief, partly to explain +its violence to the Roman world. This hypothesis seems, indeed, by +far the most natural of the three; and if we could strip the +history of Antinous of its mysterious and mythic elements, it is +rational to believe that we should find his death a simple +accident. Yet our authorities prove that writers of history among +the ancients wavered between the two other theories of (i) +Self-Devotion and (ii) Immolation, with a bias toward the latter. +These, then, have now to be considered with some attention. Both, +it may parenthetically be observed, relieve Antinous from a moral +stigma, since in either case a pure untainted victim was +required.</p> + +<p>If we accept the former of the two remaining hypotheses, we can +understand how love and gratitude, together with sorrow, led +Hadrian to canonise Antinous. If we accept the latter, Hadrian's +sorrow itself becomes inexplicable; and we <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg195" id="pg195">195</a></span> must attribute the +foundation of Antinoë and the deification of Antinous to +remorse. It may be added, while balancing these two solutions of +the problem, that cynical sophists, like Hadrian's Græculi, +were likely to have put the worst construction on the Emperor's +passion, and to have invented the worst stories concerning the +favourite's death. To perpetuate these calumnious reports was the +real interest of the Christian apologists, who not unnaturally +thought it scandalous that a handsome page should be deified. Thus, +at first sight, the balance of probability inclines toward the +former of the two solutions, while the second may be rejected as +based upon court-gossip and religious animosity. Attention may also +again be called to the fact that Hadrian ventured to publish an +account of Antinous quite inconsistent with what Dion chose to call +the truth, and that virtuous Emperors like the Antonines did not +interfere with a cult, which, had it been paid to the mere victim +of Hadrian's passion and his superstition, would have been an +infamy even in Rome. Moreover, that cult was not, like the +creations of the impious emperors, forgotten or destroyed by public +acclamation. It took root and flourished apparently, as we shall +see, because it satisfied some craving of the popular religious +sense, and because the people believed that this man had died for +his friend. It will not, however, do to dismiss the two hypotheses +so lightly.</p> + +<p>The alternative of self-devotion presents itself under a double +aspect. Antinous may either have committed suicide by drowning with +the intention of prolonging the Emperor's life, or he may have +offered himself as a voluntary victim to the magicians, who +required a sacrifice for a similar purpose. Spartian's brief +phrase, <i>aliis eum devotum pro Hadriano</i>, may seem to point to +the first form of self-devotion; the testimony of Aurelius Victor +clearly supports the second: yet it does not much matter which of +the two explanations we adopt. <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg196" id="pg196">196</a></span> The point is whether Antinous +gave his life willingly to save the Emperor's, or whether he was +murdered for the satisfaction of some superstitious curiosity. It +was absolutely necessary that the vicarious victim should make a +free and voluntary oblation of himself. That the notion of +vicarious suffering was familiar to the ancients is sufficiently +attested by the phrases +αντίψυχοι, +αντανδροι, and +<i>hostia succidanea</i>. We find traces of it in the legend of +Alcestis, who died for Admetus, and of Cheiron, who took the place +of Prometheus in Hades. Suetonius records that in the first days of +Caligula's popularity, when he was labouring under dangerous +illness, many Romans of both sexes vowed their lives for his +recovery in temples of the gods. That this superstition retained a +strong hold on the popular imagination in the time of Hadrian is +proved by the curious affirmation of Aristides, a contemporary of +that Emperor. He says that once, when he was ill, a certain +Philumene offered her soul for his soul, her body for his body, and +that, upon his own recovery, she died. On the same testimony it +appears that her brother Hermeas had also died for Aristides. This +faith in the efficacy of substitution is persistent in the human +race. Not long ago a Christian lady was supposed to have vowed her +own life for the prolongation of that of Pope Pius IX., and good +Catholics inclined to the belief that the sacrifice had been +accepted. We shall see that in the first centuries of Christendom +the popular conviction that Antinous had died for Hadrian brought +him into inconvenient rivalry with Christ, whose vicarious +suffering was the cardinal point of the new creed.</p> + +<p>The alternative of immolation has next to be considered. The +question before us here is, Did Hadrian sacrifice Antinous for the +satisfaction of a superstitious curiosity, and in the performance +of magic rites? Dion Cassius uses the word +ἱερουργηθεις, +and explains it by saying that Hadrian needed a voluntary <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg197" id="pg197">197</a></span> human +victim for the accomplishment of an act of divination in which he +was engaged. Both Spartian and Dion speak emphatically of the +Emperor's proclivities to the black art; and all antiquity agreed +about this trait in his character. Ammianus Marcellinus spoke of +him as '<i>futurorum sciscitationi nimiæ deditum</i>.' +Tertullian described him as '<i>curiositatum omnium +exploratorem</i>.' To multiply such phrases would, however, be +superfluous, for they are probably mere repetitions from the text +of Dion. That human victims were used by the Romans of the Empire +seems certain. Lampridius, in the 'Life of Heliogabalus,' records +his habit of slaying handsome and noble youths, in order that he +might inspect their entrails. Eusebius, in his 'Life of Maxentius,' +asserts the same of that Emperor. <i>Quum inspiceret exta +puerilia</i>, νεογνον +σπλάγχνα +βρέφων +διερευνομένου, +are the words used by Lampridius and Eusebius. Justin Martyr speaks +of +εποπτεύσεις +παίδων +αδιαφθόρον. +Caracalla and Julian are credited with similar bloody sacrifices. +Indeed, it may be affirmed in general that tyrants have ever been +eager to foresee the future and to extort her secrets from Fate, +stopping short at no crime in the attempt to quiet a corroding +anxiety for their own safety. What we read about Italian +despots—Ezzelino da Romano, Sigismondo Malatesta, Filippo +Maria Visconti, and Pier Luigi Farnese—throws light upon the +practice of their Imperial predecessors; while the mysterious +murder of the beautiful Astorre Manfredi by the Borgias in +Hadrian's Mausoleum has been referred by modern critics of +authority to the same unholy curiosity. That Hadrian laboured under +this moral disease, and that he deliberately used the body of +Antinous for <i>extispicium</i>, is, I think, Dion's opinion. But +are we justified in reckoning Hadrian among these tyrants? That +must depend upon our view of his character.</p> + +<p>Hadrian was a man in whom the most conflicting qualities <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg198" id="pg198">198</a></span> were +blent. In his youth and through his whole life he was passionately +fond of hunting; hardy, simple in his habits, marching bareheaded +with his legions through German frost and Nubian heat, sharing the +food of his soldiers, and exercising the most rigid military +discipline. At the same time he has aptly been described as 'the +most sumptuous character of antiquity.' He filled the cities of the +empire with showy buildings, and passed his last years in a kind of +classic Munich, where he had constructed imitations of every +celebrated monument in Europe. He was so far fond of nature that, +anticipating the most recently developed of modern tastes, he +ascended Mount Ætna and the Mons Casius, in order to enjoy +the spectacle of sunrise. In his villa at Tivoli he indulged a +trivial fancy by christening one garden Tempe and another the +Elysian Fields; and he had his name carved on the statue of the +vocal Memnon with no less gusto than a modern tourist: <i>audivi +voces divinas</i>. His memory was prodigious, his eloquence in the +Latin language studied and yet forcible, his knowledge of Greek +literature and philosophy far from contemptible. He enjoyed the +society of Sophists and distinguished rhetoricians, and so far +affected authorship as to win the unenviable title of +<i>Græculus</i> in his own lifetime: yet he never neglected +state affairs. Owing to his untiring energy and vast capacity for +business, he not only succeeded in reorganising every department of +the empire, social, political, fiscal, military, and municipal; but +he also held in his own hands the threads of all its complicated +machinery. He was strict in matters of routine, and appears to have +been almost a martinet among his legions: yet in social intercourse +he lived on terms of familiarity with inferiors, combining the +graces of elegant conversation with the <i>bonhomie</i> of boon +companionship, displaying a warm heart to his friends, and using +magnificent generosity. He restored the <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg199" id="pg199">199</a></span> domestic as well as the +military discipline of the Roman world; and his code of laws lasted +till Justinian. Among many of his useful measures of reform he +issued decrees restricting the power of masters over their slaves, +and depriving them of their old capital jurisdiction. His +biographers find little to accuse him of beyond a singular avidity +for fame, addiction to magic arts and luxurious vices: yet they +adduce no proof of his having, at any rate before the date of his +final retirement to his Tiburtine villa, shared the crimes of a +Nero or a Commodus. On the whole, we must recognise in Hadrian a +nature of extraordinary energy, capacity for administrative +government, and mental versatility. A certain superficiality, +vulgarity, and commonplaceness seems to have been forced upon him +by the circumstances of his age, no less than by his special +temperament. This quality of the immitigable commonplace is clearly +written on his many portraits. Their chief interest consists in a +fixed expression of fatigue—as though the man were weary with +much seeking and with little finding. In all things, he was +somewhat of a dilettante; and the Nemesis of that sensibility to +impressions which distinguishes the dilettante, came upon him ere +he died. He ended his days in an appalling and persistent paroxysm +of <i>ennui</i>, desiring the death which would not come to his +relief.</p> + +<p>The whole creative and expansive force of Hadrian's century lay +concealed in the despised Christian sect. Art was expiring in a +sunset blaze of gorgeous imitation, tasteless grandeur, technical +elaboration. Philosophy had become sophistical or mystic; its real +life survived only in the phrase 'entbehren sollst du, sollst +entbehren' of the Stoics. Literature was repetitive and scholastic. +Tacitus, Suetonius, Plutarch, and Juvenal indeed were living; but +their works formed the last great literary triumph of the age. +Religion <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg200" id= +"pg200">200</a></span> had degenerated under the twofold influences +of scepticism and intrusive foreign cults. It was, in truth, an age +in which, for a sound heart and manly intellect, there lay no +proper choice except between the stoicism of Marcus Aurelius and +the Christianity of the Catacombs. All else had passed into shams, +unrealities, and visions. Now Hadrian was neither stoical nor +Christian, though he so far coquetted with Christianity as to build +temples dedicated to no Pagan deity, which passed in after times +for unfinished churches. He was a <i>Græculus</i>. In that +contemptuous epithet, stripping it of its opprobrious significance, +we find the real key to his character. In a failing age he lived a +restless-minded, many-sided soldier-prince, whose inner hopes and +highest aspirations were for Hellas. Hellas, her art, her history, +her myths, her literature, her lovers, her young heroes filled him +with enthusiasm. To rebuild her ruined cities, to restore her +deities, to revive her golden life of blended poetry and science, +to reconstruct her spiritual empire as he had re-organised the +Roman world, was Hadrian's dream. It was indeed a dream; one which +a far more creative genius than Hadrian's could not have +realised.</p> + +<p>But now, returning to the two alternatives regarding his +friend's death: was this philo-Hellenic Emperor the man to have +immolated Antinous for <i>extispicium</i> and then deified him? +Probably not. The discord between this bloody act and subsequent +hypocrisy upon the one hand, and Hadrian's Greek sympathies upon +the other, must be reckoned too strong for even such a dipsychic +character as his. There is nothing in either Spartian or Dion to +justify the opinion that he was naturally cruel or fantastically +deceitful. On the other hand, Hadrian's philo-Hellenic, +splendour-loving, somewhat tawdry, fame-desiring nature was +precisely of the sort to jump eagerly at the deification of a +favourite who had either died a <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg201" id="pg201">201</a></span> natural death or killed himself +to save his master. Hadrian had loved Antinous with a Greek passion +in his lifetime. The Roman Emperor was half a god. He remembered +how Zeus had loved Ganymede, and raised him to Olympus; how +Achilles had loved Patroclus, and performed his funeral rites at +Troy; how the demi-god Alexander had loved Hephæstion, and +lifted him into a hero's seat on high. He, Hadrian, would do the +like, now that death had robbed him of his comrade. The Roman, who +surrounded himself at Tivoli with copies of Greek temples, and who +called his garden Tempe, played thus at being Zeus, Achilles, +Alexander; and the civilised world humoured his whim. Though the +Sophists scoffed at his real grief and honourable tears, they +consecrated his lost favourite, found out a star for him, carved +him in breathing brass, and told tales about his sacred flower. +Pancrates was entertained in Alexandria at the public cost for his +fable of the lotos; and the lyrist Mesomedes received so liberal a +pension for his hymn to Antinous that Antoninus Pius found it +needful to curtail it.</p> + +<p>After weighing the authorities, considering the circumstances of +the age, and estimating Hadrian's character, I am thus led to +reject the alternative of immolation. Spartian's own words, <i>quem +muliebriter flevit</i>, as well as the subsequent acts of the +Emperor and the acquiescence of the whole world in the new deity, +prove to my mind that in the suggestion of <i>extispicium</i> we +have one of those covert calumnies which it is impossible to set +aside at this distance of time, and which render the history of +Roman Emperors and Popes almost impracticable.</p> + +<p>The case, then, stands before us thus. Antinous was drowned in +the Nile, near Besa, either by accident or by voluntary suicide to +save his master's life. Hadrian's love for him had been unmeasured, +so was his grief. Both of <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg202" id= +"pg202">202</a></span> them were genuine; but in the nature of the +man there was something artificial. He could not be content to love +and grieve alone; he must needs enact the part of Alexander, and +realise, if only by a sort of makebelieve, a portion of his Greek +ideal. Antinous, the beautiful servant, was to take the place of +Ganymede, of Patroclus, of Hephæstion; never mind if Hadrian +was a Roman and his friend a Bithynian, and if the love between +them, as between an emperor of fifty and a boy of nineteen, had +been less than heroic. The opportunity was too fair to be missed; +the <i>rôle</i> too fascinating to be rejected. The world, in +spite of covert sneers, lent itself to the sham, and Antinous +became a god.</p> + +<p>The uniformly contemptuous tone of antique authorities almost +obliges us to rank this deification of Antinous, together with the +Tiburtine villa and the dream of a Hellenic Renaissance, among the +part-shams, part-enthusiasms of Hadrian's 'sumptuous' character. +Spartian's account of the consecration, and his hint that Hadrian +composed the oracles delivered at his favourite's tomb; Arrian's +letter to the Emperor describing the island Leukè and +flattering him by an adroit comparison with Achilles; the poem by +Pancrates mentioned in the 'Deipnosophistæ,' which furnished +the myth of a new lotos dedicated to Antinous; the invention of the +star, and Hadrian's conversations with his courtiers on this +subject—all converge to form the belief that something of +consciously unreal mingled with this act of apotheosis by Imperial +decree. Hadrian sought to assuage his grief by paying his favourite +illustrious honours after death; he also desired to give the memory +of his own love the most congenial and poetical environment, to +feed upon it in the daintiest places, and to deck it with the +prettiest flowers of fancy. He therefore canonised Antinous, and +took measures for disseminating his cult throughout the world, +careless of the element of imposture <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg203" id="pg203">203</a></span> which might seem to mingle with +the consecration of his true affection. Hadrian's superficial taste +was not offended by the gimcrack quality of the new god; and +Antinous was saved from being a merely pinchbeck saint by his own +charming personality.</p> + +<p>This will not, however, wholly satisfy the conditions of the +problem; and we are obliged to ask ourselves whether there was not +something in the character of Antinous himself, something divinely +inspired and irradiate with spiritual beauty, apparent to his +fellows and remembered after his mysterious death, which justified +his canonisation, and removed it from the region of Imperial +makebelieve. If this was not the case, if Antinous died like a +flower cropped from the seraglio garden of the court-pages, how +should the Emperor in the first place have bewailed him with +'unhusbanded passion,' and the people afterwards have received him +as a god? May it not have been that he was a youth of more than +ordinary promise, gifted with intellectual enthusiasms proportioned +to his beauty and endowed with something of Phoebean inspiration, +who, had he survived, might have even inaugurated a new age for the +world, or have emulated the heroism of Hypatia in a hopeless cause? +Was the link between him and Hadrian formed less by the boy's +beauty than by his marvellous capacity for apprehending and his +fitness for realising the Emperor's Greek dreams? Did the spirit of +neo-Platonism find in him congenial incarnation? At any rate, was +there not enough in the then current beliefs about the future of +the soul, as abundantly set forth in Plutarch's writings, to +justify a conviction that after death he had already passed into +the lunar sphere, awaiting the final apotheosis of purged spirits +in the sun? These questions may be asked—indeed, they must be +asked—for, without suggesting them, we leave the worship of +Antinous an almost <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg204" id= +"pg204">204</a></span> inexplicable scandal, an almost +unintelligible blot on human nature. Unless we ask them, we must be +content to echo the coarse and violent diatribes of Clemens +Alexandrinus against the vigils of the deified <i>exoletus</i>. But +they cannot be answered, for antiquity is altogether silent about +him; only here and there, in the indignant utterance of a Christian +Father, stung to the quick by Pagan parallels between Antinous and +Christ, do we catch a perverted echo of the popular emotion upon +which his cult reposed, which recognised his godhood or his +vicarious self-sacrifice, and which paid enduring tribute to the +sublimity of his young life untimely quenched.</p> + +<p>The <i>senatus consultum</i> required for the apotheosis of an +Emperor was not, so far as we know, obtained in the case of +Antinous. Hadrian's determination to exalt his favourite sufficed; +and this is perhaps one of the earliest instances of those informal +deifications which became common in the later Roman period. +Antinous was canonised according to Greek ritual and by Greek +priests: <i>Græci quidam volente Hadriano eum +consecraverunt</i>. How this was accomplished we know not; but +forms of canonisation must have been in common usage, seeing that +emperors and members of the Imperial family received the honour in +due course. The star which was supposed to have appeared soon after +his death, and which represented his soul admitted to Olympus, was +somewhere near the constellation Aquila, according to Ptolemy, but +not part of it. I believe the letters +η.θ.ι.κ.λ. of Aquila now bear the name +of Antinous; but this appropriation dates only from the time of +Tycho Brahe. It was also asserted that as a new star had appeared +in the skies, so a new flower had blossomed on the earth, at the +moment of his death. This was the lotos, of a peculiar red colour, +which the people of Lower Egypt used to wear in wreaths upon his +festival. It received the name Antinoeian; and the Alexandrian +sophist, Pancrates, seeking <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg205" +id="pg205">205</a></span> to pay a double compliment to Hadrian and +his favourite, wrote a poem in which he pretended that this lily +was stained with the blood of a Libyan lion slain by the Emperor. +As Arrian compared his master to Achilles, so Pancrates flattered +him with allusions to Herakles. The lotos, it is well known, was a +sacred flower in Egypt. Both as a symbol of the all-nourishing +moisture of the earth and of the mystic marriage of Isis and +Osiris, and also as an emblem of immortality, it appeared on all +the sacred places of the Egyptians, especially on tombs and funeral +utensils. To dignify Antinous with the lotos emblem was to +consecrate him; to find a new species of the revered blossom and to +wear it in his honour, calling it by his name, was to exalt him to +the company of gods. Nothing, as it seems, had been omitted that +could secure for him the patent of divinity.</p> + +<p>He met his death near the city Besa, an ancient Egyptian town +upon the eastern bank of the Nile, almost opposite to Hermopolis. +Besa was the name of a local god, who gave oracles and predicted +future events. But of this Besa we know next to nothing. Hadrian +determined to rebuild the city, change its name, and let his +favourite take the place of the old deity. Accordingly, he raised a +splendid new town in the Greek style; furnished it with temples, +agora, hippodrome, gymnasium, and baths; filled it with Greek +citizens; gave it a Greek constitution, and named it Antinoë. +This new town, whether called Antinoë, Antinoopolis, Antinous, +Antinoeia, or even Besantinous (for its titles varied), continued +long to flourish, and was mentioned by Ammianus Marcellinus, +together with Copton and Hermopolis, as one of the three most +distinguished cities of the Thebaïd. In the age of Julian +these three cities were perhaps the only still thriving towns of +Upper Egypt. It has even been maintained on Ptolemy's authority +that Antinoë was the metropolis <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg206" id="pg206">206</a></span> of a nome, called Antinoeitis; +but this is doubtful, since inscriptions discovered among the ruins +of the town record no name of nomarch or strategus, while they +prove the government to have consisted of a Boulè and a +Prytaneus, who was also the Eponymous Magistrate. Strabo reckons +it, together with Ptolemais and Alexandria, as governed after the +Greek municipal system.</p> + +<p>In this city Antinous was worshipped as a god. Though a Greek +god, and the eponym of a Greek city, he inherited the place and +functions of an Egyptian deity, and was here represented in the +hieratic style of Ptolemaic sculpture. A fine specimen of this +statuary is preserved in the Vatican, showing how the neo-Hellenic +sculptors had succeeded in maintaining the likeness of Antinous +without sacrificing the traditional manner of Egyptian piety. The +sacred emblems of Egyptian deities were added: we read, for +instance, in one passage, that his shrine contained a boat. This +boat, like the mystic egg of Erôs or the cista of Dionysos, +symbolised the embryo of cosmic life. It was specially appropriated +to Osiris, and suggested collateral allusions doubtless to +immortality and the soul's journey in another world. Antinous had a +college of priests appointed to his service; and oracles were +delivered from the cenotaph inside his temple. The people believed +him to be a genius of warning, gracious to his suppliants, but +terrible to evil-doers, combining the qualities of the avenging and +protective deities. Annual games were celebrated in Antinoë on +his festival, with chariot races and gymnastic contests; and the +fashion of keeping his day seems, from Athenæus's testimony, +to have spread through Egypt. An inscription in Greek characters +discovered at Rome upon the Campus Martius entitles Antinous a +colleague of the gods in Egypt—</p> + +<div class="center"> +ΑΝΤΙΝΟΩΙ +ΣΥΝΘΡΟΝΩΙ +ΤΩΝ ΕΝ +ΑΙΓΥΗΤΩΙ +ΘΕΩΝ.</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg207" id="pg207">207</a></span> +The worship of Antinous spread rapidly through the Greek and Asian +provinces, especially among the cities which owed debts of +gratitude to Hadrian or expected from him future favours. At +Athens, for example, the Emperor, attended perhaps by Antinous, had +presided as Archon during his last royal progress, had built a +suburb called after his name, and raised a splendid temple to +Olympian Jove. The Athenians, therefore, founded games and a +priesthood in honour of the new divinity. Even now, in the +Dionysiac theatre, among the chairs above the orchestra assigned to +priests of elder deities and more august tradition, may be found +one bearing the name of +Antinous—ΙΕΡΕΩΣ +ΑΝΤΙΝΟΟΥ. A marble +tablet has also been discovered inscribed with the names of +agonothetai for the games celebrated in honour of Antinous; and a +stele exists engraved with the crown of these contests together +with the crowns of Severus, Commodus, and Antoninus. It appears +that the games in honour of Antinous took place both at Eleusis and +at Athens; and that the agonothetai, as also the priest of the new +god, were chosen from the Ephebi. The Corinthians, the Argives, the +Achaians, and the Epirots, as we know from coins issued by the +priests of Antinous, adopted his cult;<a name="FNanchor_1_48" id= +"FNanchor_1_48" /><a href="#Footnote_1_48" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> but the region of Greece proper where it +flourished most was Arcadia, the mother state of his Bithynian +birthplace. Pausanias, who lived contemporaneously with Antinous, +and might have seen him, though he tells us that he had not chanced +to meet the youth alive, mentions the temple of Antinous at +Mantinea as the newest in that city. 'The Mantineans,' he says, +'reckon Antinous among their gods.' He then describes the yearly +festival and mysteries connected <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg208" id="pg208">208</a></span> with his cult, the quinquennial +games established in his honour, and his statues. The gymnasium had +a cell dedicated to Antinous, adorned with pictures and fair +stone-work. The new god was in the habit of Dionysus.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_48" id="Footnote_1_48" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_48"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>For +example:</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquotwide"> +ΟΣΤΙΛΙΟΣ +ΜΑΡΚΕΛΛΟΣΟ +ΙΕΡΕΥΣΤΟΥ +ΑΝΤΙΟΟΥ +ΑΝΕΘΗΚΕ +ΤΟΙΣ +ΑΧΑΙΟΙΣ and a similar +inscription for Corinth.</div> + +<p>As was natural, his birthplace paid him special observance. +Coins dedicated by the province of Bithynia, as well as by the town +Bithynium, are common, with the epigraphs, +ΑΝΤΙΟΟΥ Η +ΠΑΤΡΙΣ and +ΑΝΤΙΝΟΟΝ +ΘΕΟΝ Η +ΠΑΤΡΙΣ. Among the cities of Asia Minor +and the vicinity the new cult seems to have been widely spread. +Adramyttene in Mysia, Alabanda, Ancyra in Galatia, Chalcedon, Cuma +in Æolis, Cyzicum in Mysia, the Ciani, the +Hadrianotheritæ of Bithynia, Hierapolis in Phrygia, +Nicomedia, Philadelphia, Sardis, Smyrna, Tarsus, the Tianians of +Paphlagonia, and a town Rhesæna in Mesopotamia, all furnish +their quota of medals. On the majority of these medals he is +entitled Herôs, but on others he has the higher title of god; +and he seems to have been associated in each place with some deity +of local fame.</p> + +<p>Being essentially a Greek hero, or divinised man received into +the company of immortals and worshipped with the attributes of god, +his cult took firmer root among the neo-Hellenic provinces of the +empire than in Italy. Yet there are signs that even in Italy he +found his votaries. Among these may first be mentioned the +comparative frequency of his name in Roman inscriptions, which have +no immediate reference to him, but prove that parents gave it to +their children. The discovery of his statues in various cities of +the Roman Campagna shows that his cult was not confined to one or +two localities. Naples in particular, which remained in all +essential points a Greek city, seems to have received him with +acclamation. A quarter of the town was called after his name, and a +phratria of priests was founded in connection with his worship. The +Neapolitans owed much to the patronage of Hadrian, and they repaid +him <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg209" id="pg209">209</a></span> +after this fashion. At the beginning of the last century Raffaello +Fabretti discovered an inscription near the Porta S. Sebastiano at +Rome, which throws some light on the matter. It records the name of +a Roman knight, Sufenas, who had held the office of Lupercus and +had been a fellow of the Neapolitan phratria of +Antinous—<i>fretriaco Neapoli Antinoiton et Eunostidon</i>. +Eunostos was a hero worshipped at Tanagra in Boeotia, where he had +a sacred grove no female foot might enter; and the wording of the +inscription leaves it doubtful whether the Eunostidæ and +Antinoitæ of Naples were two separate colleges; or whether +the heroes were associated as the common patrons of one +brotherhood.</p> + +<p>A valuable inscription discovered in 1816 near the Baths at +Lanuvium or Lavigna shows that Antinous was here associated with +Diana as the saint of a benefit club. The rules of the +confraternity prescribe the payments and other contributions of its +members, provide for their assembling on the feast days of their +patrons, fix certain fines, and regulate the ceremonies and +expenses of their funerals. This club seems to have resembled +modern burial societies, as known to us in England; or still more +closely to have been formed upon the same model as Italian +confraternitè of the Middle Ages. The Lex, or table of +regulations, was drawn up in the year 133 A.D. It fixes the +birthday of Antinous as v.k. Decembr., and alludes to the temple of +Antinous—<i>Tetrastylo Antinoi</i>. Probably we cannot build +much on the birthday as a genuine date, for the same table gives +the birthday of Diana; and what was wanted was not accuracy in such +matters, but a settled anniversary for banquets and pious +celebrations. When we come to consider the divinity of Antinous, it +will be of service to remember that at Lanuvium, together with +Diana of the nether world, he was reckoned among the saints of +sepulture. Could this thought have penetrated the imagination of +his worshippers: that since <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg210" +id="pg210">210</a></span> Antinous had given his life for his +friend, since he had faced death and triumphed over it, winning +immortality and godhood for himself by sacrifice, the souls of his +votaries might be committed to his charge and guidance on their +journey through the darkness of the tomb? Could we venture to infer +thus much from his selection by a confraternity existing for the +purpose of securing decent burial or pious funeral rites, the date +of its formation, so soon after his death, would confirm the +hypothesis that he was known to have devoted his life for +Hadrian.</p> + +<p>While speaking of Antinous as a divinised man, adscript to the +gods of Egypt, accepted as hero and as god in Hellas, Italy, and +Asia Minor, we have not yet considered the nature of his deity. The +question is not so simple as it seems at first sight: and the next +step to take, with a view to its solution, is to consider the +various forms under which he was adored—the phases of his +divinity. The coins already mentioned, and the numerous works of +glyptic art surviving in the galleries of Europe, will help us to +place ourselves at the same point of view as the least enlightened +of his antique votaries. Reasoning upon these data by the light of +classic texts, may afterwards enable us to assign him his true +place in the Pantheon of decadent and uninventive Paganism.</p> + +<p>In Egypt, as we have already seen, Antinous was worshipped by +the neo-Hellenes of Antinoopolis as their Eponymous Hero; but he +took the place of an elder native god, and was represented in art +according to the traditions of Egyptian sculpture. The marble +statue of the Vatican is devoid of hieratic emblems. Antinous is +attired with the Egyptian head-dress and waistband: he holds a +short truncheon firmly clasped in each hand; and by his side is a +palm-stump, such as one often finds in statues of the Greek Hermes. +Two colossal statues of red granite discovered in the ruins of +Hadrian's villa, at Tivoli, represent him in like manner with the +usual Egyptian <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg211" id= +"pg211">211</a></span> head-dress. They seem to have been designed +for pillars supporting the architrave of some huge portal; and the +wands grasped firmly in both hands are supposed to be symbolical of +the genii called Dii Averrunci. Von Levezow, in his monograph upon +Antinous in art, catalogues five statues of a similar description +to the three already mentioned. From the indistinct character of +all of them, it would appear that Antinous was nowhere identified +with any one of the great Egyptian deities, but was treated as a +Dæmon powerful to punish and protect. This designation +corresponds to the contemptuous rebuke addressed by Origen to +Celsus, where he argues that the new saint was only a malignant and +vengeful spirit. His Egyptian medals are few and of questionable +genuineness: the majority of them seem to be purely Hellenic; but +on one he bears a crown like that of Isis, and on another a lotos +wreath. The dim records of his cult in Egypt, and the remnants of +Græco-Egyptian art, thus mark him out as one of the +Averruncan deities, associated perhaps with Kneph or the +Agathodæmon of Hellenic mythology, or approximated to Anubis, +the Egyptian Hermes. Neither statues nor coins throw much light +upon his precise place among those gods of Nile whose throne he is +said to have ascended. Egyptian piety may not have been so +accommodating as that of Hellas.</p> + +<p>With the Græco-Roman world the case is different. We +obtain a clearer conception of the Antinous divinity, and recognise +him always under the mask of youthful gods already honoured with +fixed ritual. To worship even living men under the names and +attributes of well-known deities was no new thing in Hellas. We may +remember the Ithyphallic hymn with which the Athenians welcomed +Demetrius Poliorkêtes, the marriage of Anthony as Dionysus to +Athenè, and the deification of Mithridates as Bacchus. The +Roman Emperors had already been represented in art with the +characteristics <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg212" id= +"pg212">212</a></span> of gods—Nero, for example, as Phoebus, +and Hadrian as Mars. Such compliments were freely paid to Antinous. +On the Achaian coins we find his portrait on the obverse, with +different types of Hermes on the reverse, varied in one case by the +figure of a ram, in another by the representation of a temple, in a +third by a nude hero grasping a spear. One Mysian medal, bearing +the epigraph 'Antinous Iacchus,' represents him crowned with ivy, +and exhibits Demeter on the reverse. A single specimen from Ancyra, +with the legend 'Antinous Herôs,' depicts the god Lunus +carrying a crescent moon upon his shoulder. The Bithynian coins +generally give youthful portraits of Antinous upon the obverse, +with the title of 'Herôs' or 'Theos;' while the reverse is +stamped with a pastoral figure, sometimes bearing the talaria, +sometimes accompanied by a feeding ox or a boar or a star. This +youth is supposed to be Philesius, the son of Hermes. In one +specimen of the Bithynian series the reverse yields a head of +Proserpine crowned with thorns. A coin of Chalcedon ornaments the +reverse with a griffin seated near a naked figure. Another, from +Corinth, bears the sun-god in a chariot; another, from Cuma, +presents an armed Pallas. Bulls, with the crescent moon, occur in +the Hadrianotheritan medals: a crescent moon in that of Hierapolis: +a ram and star, a female head crowned with towers, a standing bull, +and Harpocrates placing one finger on his lips, in those of +Nicomedia; a horned moon and star in that of Epirot Nicopolis. One +Philadelphian coin is distinguished by Antinous in a temple with +four columns; another by an Aphrodite in her cella. The Sardian +coins give Zeus with the thunderbolt, or Phoebus with the lyre; +those of Smyrna are stamped with a standing ox, a ram, and the +caduceus, a female panther and the thyrsus, or a hero reclining +beneath a plane-tree; those of Tarsus with the Dionysian cista, the +Phoebean tripod, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg213" id= +"pg213">213</a></span> river Cydnus, and the epigraphs 'Neos +Puthios,' 'Neos Iacchos;' those of the Tianians with Antinous as +Bacchus on a panther, or, in one case, as Poseidôn.</p> + +<p>It would be unsafe to suppose that the emblems of the reverse in +each case had a necessary relation to Antinous, whose portrait is +almost invariably represented on the obverse. They may refer, as in +the case of the Tarsian river-god, to the locality in which the +medal was struck. Yet the frequent occurrence of the well-known +type with the attributes and sacred animals of various deities, and +the epigraphs 'Neos Puthios' or 'Neos Iacchos,' justify us in +assuming that he was associated with divinities in vogue among the +people who accepted his cult—especially Apollo, Dionysus, and +Hermes. On more than one coin he is described as Antinous-Pan, +showing that his Arcadian compatriots of Peloponnese and Bithynia +paid him the compliment of placing him beside their great local +deity. In a Latin inscription discovered at Tibur, he is connected +with the sun-god of Noricia, Pannonia and Illyria, who was +worshipped under the title of Belenus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Antinoo et Beleno par ætas famaque par +est;</div> + +<div class="i3">Cur non Antinous sit quoque qui Belenus?8261</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This couplet sufficiently explains the ground of his adscription +to the society of gods distinguished for their beauty. Both Belenus +and Antinous are young and beautiful: why, therefore, should not +Antinous be honoured equally with Belenus? The same reasoning would +apply to all his impersonations. The pious imagination or the +æsthetic taste tricked out this favourite of fortune in +masquerade costumes, just as a wealthy lover may amuse himself by +dressing his mistress after the similitude of famous beauties. The +analogy of statues confirms this assumption. A considerable +majority represent him as Dionysus Kisseus: in some of the best he +is conceived as Hermes of the Palæstra or a simple hero: in +one he is probably <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg214" id= +"pg214">214</a></span> Dionysus Antheus; in another Vertumnus or +Aristæus; yet again he is the Agathos Daimon: while a fine +specimen preserved in England shows him as Ganymede raising a +goblet of wine: a little statue in the Louvre gives him the +attributes of youthful Herakles; a basrelief of somewhat doubtful +genuineness in the Villa Albani exhibits him with Romanised +features in the character perhaps of Castor. Again, I am not sure +whether the Endymion in the celebrated basrelief of the Capitol +does not yield a portrait of Antinous.</p> + +<p>This rapid enumeration will suffice to show that Antinous was +universally conceived as a young deity in bloom, and that +preference was given to Phoebus and Iacchus, the gods of divination +and enthusiasm, for his associates. In some cases he appears to +have been represented as a simple hero without the attributes of +any deity. Many of his busts, and the fine nude statues of the +Capitol and the Neapolitan Museum, belong to this class, unless we +recognise the two last as Antinous under the form of a young +Hercules, or of the gymnastic Hermes. But when he comes before us +with the title of Puthios, or with the attributes of Dionysus, +distinct reference is probably intended in the one case to his +oracular quality, in the other to the enthusiasm which led to his +death. Allusions to Harpocrates, Lunus, Aristæus, Philesius, +Vertumnus, Castor, Herakles, Ganymedes, show how the divinising +fancy played around the beauty of his youth, and sought to connect +him with myths already honoured in the pious conscience. Lastly, +though it would be hazardous to strain this point, we find in his +chief impersonations a Chthonian character, a touch of the mystery +that is shrouded in the world beyond the grave. The double nature +of his Athenian cult may perhaps confirm this view. But, over and +above all these symbolic illustrations, one artistic motive of +immortal loveliness pervades and animates the series.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg215" id="pg215">215</a></span> +It becomes at this point of some moment to determine what was the +relation of Antinous to the gods with whom he blended, and whose +attributes he shared. It seems tolerably certain that he had no +special legend which could be idealised in art. The mythopoeic +fancy invented no fable for him. His cult was parasitic upon elder +cults. He was the colleague of greater well-established deities, +from whom he borrowed a pale and evanescent lustre. Speaking +accurately, he was a hero or divinised mortal, on the same grade as +Helen immortalised for her beauty, as Achilles for his prowess, or +as Herakles for his great deeds. But having no poet like Homer to +sing his achievements, no myth fertile in emblems, he dwelt beneath +the shadow of superior powers, and crept into a place with them. +What was this place worth? What was the meaning attached by his +votaries to the title +σύνθρονος or +πάρεδρος +θεός? According to the simple meaning of +both epithets, he occupied a seat together with or by the side of +the genuine Olympians. In this sense Pindar called Dionysus the +πάρεδρος of Demeter, +because the younger god had been admitted to her worship on equal +terms at Eleusis. In this sense Sophocles spoke of Himeros as +πάρεδρος of the +eternal laws, and of Justice as +σύνοικος with the +Chthonian deities. In this sense Euripides makes Helen +ζύνθακος her +brethren, the Dioscuri. In this sense the three chief Archons at +Athens were said to have two +πάρεδροι apiece. In this +sense, again, Hephæstion was named a +θεος +παρεδρος, and +Alexander in his lifetime was voted a thirteenth in the company of +the twelve Olympians. The divinised emperors were +πάρεδροι or +σύνθρονοι nor did +Virgil hesitate to flatter Augustus by questioning into which +college of the immortals he would be adscript after +death—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">Tuque adeo, quem mox quæ sint habitura +deorum</div> + +<div class="i2">Concilia, incertum est.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg216" id="pg216">216</a></span> +Conscript deities of this heroic order were supposed to avert evils +from their votaries, to pursue offenders with calamity, to inspire +prophetic dreams, and to appear, as the phantom of Achilles +appeared to Apollonius of Tyana, and answer questions put to them. +They corresponded very closely and exactly to the saints of +mediævalism, acting as patrons of cities, confraternities, +and persons, and interposing between the supreme powers of heaven +and their especial devotees. As a +πάρεδρος of this +exalted quality, Antinous was the associate of Phoebus, Bacchus, +and Hermes among the Olympians, and a colleague with the gods of +Nile. The principal difficulty of grasping his true rank consists +in the variety of his emblems and divine disguises.</p> + +<p>It must here be mentioned that the epithet +πάρεδρος had a +secondary and inferior signification. It was applied by later +authors to the demons or familiar spirits who attended upon +enchanters like Simon Magus or Apollonius; and such satellites were +believed to be supplied by the souls of innocent young persons +violently slain. Whether this secondary meaning of the title +indicates a degeneration of the other, and forms the first step of +the process whereby classic heroes were degraded into the foul +fiends of mediæval fancy, or whether we find in it a wholly +new application of the word, is questionable. I am inclined to +believe that, while +πάρεδρος +θεος in the one case means an associate +of the Olympian gods, +πάοεδρος +δαίμων in the other means a +fellow-agent and assessor of the wizard. In other words, however +they may afterwards have been confounded, the two uses of the same +epithet were originally distinct: so that not every +πάρεδρος +θεος, Achilles, or Hephæstion or +Antinous, was supposed to haunt and serve a sorcerer, but only some +inferior spirit over whom his black art gave him authority. The +πάρεδρος +θεος was so called because he sat with +the great gods. The +πάρεδρος +δαίμον was so <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg217" id="pg217">217</a></span> called because +he sat beside the magician. At the same time there seems sufficient +evidence that the two meanings came to be confounded; and as the +divinities of Hellas, with all their lustrous train, paled before +the growing splendour of Christ, they gradually fell beneath the +necromantic ferule of the witch.</p> + +<p>Returning from this excursion, and determining that Antinous was +a hero or divinised mortal, adscript to the college of the greater +gods, and invested with many of their attributes, we may next ask +the question, why this artificial cult, due in the first place to +imperial passion and caprice, and nourished by the adulation of +fawning provinces, was preserved from the rapid dissolution to +which the flimsy products of court-flattery are subject. The +mythopoetic faculty was extinct, or in its last phase of decadent +vitality. There was nothing in the life of Antinous to create a +legend or to stimulate the sense of awe; and yet this worship +persisted long after the fear of Hadrian had passed away, long +after the benefits to be derived by humouring a royal fancy had +been exhausted, long after anything could be gained by playing out +the farce. It is clear, from a passage in Clemens Alexandrinus, +that the sacred nights of Antinous were observed, at least a +century after the date of his deification, with an enthusiasm that +roused the anger of the Christian Father. Again, it is worthy of +notice that, while many of the noblest works of antiquity have +perished, the statues of Antinous have descended to us in fair +preservation and in very large numbers. From the contemptuous +destruction which erased the monuments of base men in the Roman +Empire they were safe; and the state in which we have them shows +how little they had suffered from neglect. The most rational +conclusion seems to be that Antinous became in truth a popular +saint, and satisfied some new need in Paganism, for which none of +the elder and more respectable deities sufficed. The novelty of his +cult had, no doubt, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg218" id= +"pg218">218</a></span> something to do with the fascination it +exercised; and something may be attributed to the impulse art +received from the introduction of so rare and original a type of +beauty into the exhausted cycle of mythical subjects. The blending +of Greek and Egyptian elements was also attractive to an age +remarkable for its eclecticism. But after allowing for the many +adventitious circumstances which concurred to make Antinous the +fashion, it is hardly unreasonable to assume that the spirit of +poetry in the youth's story, the rumour of his self-devoted death, +kept him alive in the memory of the people. It is just that element +of romance in the tale of his last hours, that preservative +association with the pathos of self-sacrifice, which forms the +interest we still feel for him.</p> + +<p>The deified Antinous was therefore for the Roman world a +charming but dimly felt and undeveloped personality, made perfect +by withdrawal into an unseen world of mystery. The belief in the +value of vicarious suffering attached itself to his beautiful and +melancholy form. His sorrow borrowed something of the universal +world-pain, more pathetic than the hero-pangs of Herakles, the +anguish of Prometheus, or the passion of Iacchus-Zagreus, because +more personal and less suggestive of a cosmic mystery. The ancient +cries of Ah Linus, Ah Adonis, found in him an echo. For votaries +ready to accept a new god as simply as we accept a new poet, he was +the final manifestation of an old-world mystery, the rejuvenescence +of a well-known incarnation, the semi-Oriental realisation of a +recurring Avatar. And if we may venture on so bold a surmise, this +last flower of antique mythology had taken up into itself a portion +of the blood outpoured on Calvary. Planted in the conservatory of +semi-philosophical yearnings, faintly tinctured with the colours of +misapprehended Christianity, without inherent stamina, without the +powerful nutrition which the earlier heroic fables had derived from +the spiritual vigour <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg219" id= +"pg219">219</a></span> of a truly mythopoeic age, the cult of +Antinous subsisted as an echo, a reflection, the last serious +effort of deifying but no longer potent Paganism, the last +reverberation of its oracles, an æsthetic rather than a +religious product, viewed even in its origin with sarcasm by the +educated, and yet sufficiently attractive to enthral the minds of +simple votaries, and to survive the circumstances of its first +creation. It may be remembered that the century which witnessed the +canonisation of Antinous, produced the myth of Cupid and +Psyche—or, if this be too sweeping an assertion, gave it +final form, and handed it, in its suggestive beauty, to the modern +world. Thus at one and the same moment the dying spirit of Hellas +seized upon those doctrines of self-devotion and immortality which, +through the triumph of Christian teaching, were gaining novel and +incalculable value for the world. According to its own laws of +inspiration, it stamped both legends of Love victorious over Death, +with beautiful form in myth and poem and statuary.</p> + +<p>That we are not altogether unjustified in drawing this +conclusion may be gathered from the attitude assumed by the +Christian apologists toward Antinous. There is more than the mere +hatred of a Pagan hero, more than the bare indignation at a public +scandal, in their acrimony. Accepting the calumnious insinuations +of Dion Cassius, these gladiators of the new faith found a terrible +rhetorical weapon ready to their hands in the canonisation of a +court favourite. Prudentius, Clemens Alexandrinus, Tertullian, +Eusebius, Justin Martyr, Athanasius, Tatian—all inveigh, in +nearly the same terms, against the Emperor's Ganymede, exalted to +the skies, and worshipped with base fear and adulation by abject +slaves. But in Origen, arguing with Celsus, we find a somewhat +different keynote struck. Celsus, it appears, had told the story of +Antinous, and had compared his cult with that of Christ. Origen +replies justly, that there <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg220" +id="pg220">220</a></span> was nothing in common between the lives +of Antinous and of Christ, and that his supposed divinity is a +fiction. We can discern in this response an echo of the faith which +endeared Antinous to his Pagan votaries. Antinous was hated by the +Christians as a rival; insignificant, it is true, and unworthy, but +still of sufficient force to be regarded and persecuted. If +Antinous had been utterly contemptible, if he had not gained some +firm hold upon the piety of Græco-Roman Paganism, Celsus +could hardly have ventured to rest an argument upon his worship, +nor would Origen have chosen to traverse that argument with solid +reasoning, instead of passing it by in rhetorical silence. Nothing +is more difficult than to understand the conditions of that age or +to sympathise with its dominant passions. Educated as we have been +in the traditions of the finally triumphant Christian faith, warmed +through and through as we are by its summer glow and autumn +splendour, believing as we do in the adequacy of its spirit to +satisfy the cravings of the human heart, how can we comprehend a +moment in its growth when the divinised Antinous was not merely an +object offensive to the moral sense, but also a parody dangerous to +the pure form of Christ?</p> + +<p>It remains to say somewhat of Antinous as he appears in art. His +place in classic sculpture corresponds to his position in antique +mythology. The Antinous statues and coins are reflections of +earlier artistic masterpieces, executed with admirable skill, but +lacking original faculty for idealisation in the artists. Yet there +is so much personal attraction in his type, his statues are so +manifestly faithful portraits, and we find so great a charm of +novelty in his delicately perfect individuality, that the +life-romance which they reveal, as through a veil of mystery, has +force enough to make them rank among the valuable heirlooms of +antiquity. We could almost believe that, while so many gods and +heroes of Greece have perished, <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg221" id="pg221">221</a></span> Antinous has been preserved in +all his forms and phases for his own most lovely sake; as though, +according to Ghiberti's exquisite suggestion, gentle souls in the +first centuries of Christianity had spared this blameless youth, +and hidden him away with tender hands, in quiet places, from the +fury of iconoclasts. Nor is it impossible that the great vogue of +his worship was due among the Pagan laity to this same fascination +of pure beauty. Could a more graceful temple of the body have been +fashioned, after the Platonic theory, for the habitation of a +guileless, god-inspired, enthusiastic soul? The personality of +Antinous, combined with the suggestion of his self-devoted death, +made him triumphant in art as in the affections of the pious.</p> + +<p>It would be an interesting task to compose a <i>catalogue +raisonné</i> of Antinous statues and basreliefs, and to +discuss the question of their mythological references. This is, +however, not the place for such an inquiry. And yet I cannot quit +Antinous without some retrospect upon the most important of his +portraits. Among the simple busts, by far the finest, to my +thinking, are the colossal head of the Louvre, and the ivy-crowned +bronze at Naples. The latter is not only flawless in its execution, +but is animated with a pensive beauty of expression. The former, +though praised by Winckelmann, as among the two or three most +precious masterpieces of antique art, must be criticised for a +certain vacancy and lifelessness. Of the heroic statues, the two +noblest are those of the Capitol and Naples. The identity of the +Capitoline Antinous has only once, I think, been seriously +questioned; and yet it may be reckoned more than doubtful. The head +is almost certainly not his. How it came to be placed upon a body +presenting so much resemblance to the type of Antinous I do not +know. Careful comparison of the torso and the arms with an +indubitable portrait will even raise the question whether this fine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg222" id="pg222">222</a></span> +statue is not a Hermes or a hero of an earlier age. Its attitude +suggests Narcissus or Adonis; and under either of these forms +Antinous may properly have been idealised. The Neapolitan marble, +on the contrary, yields the actual Antinous in all the exuberant +fulness of his beauty. Head, body, pose, alike bring him vividly +before us, forming an undoubtedly authentic portrait. The same +personality, idealised, it is true, but rather suffering than +gaining by the process, is powerfully impressed upon the colossal +Dionysus of the Vatican. What distinguishes this great work is the +inbreathed spirit of divinity, more overpowering here than in any +other of the extant +ανδριάντες +και +αγάλματα The basrelief +of the Villa Albani, restored to suit the conception of a +Vertumnus, has even more of florid beauty; but whether the +restoration was wisely made may be doubted. It is curious to +compare this celebrated masterpiece of technical dexterity with +another basrelief in the Villa Albani, representing Antinous as +Castor. He is standing, half clothed with the chlamys, by a horse. +His hair is close-cropped, after the Roman fashion, cut straight +above the forehead, but crowned with a fillet of lotos-buds. The +whole face has a somewhat stern and frowning Roman look of +resolution, contrasting with the mild benignity of the Bacchus +statues, and the almost sulky voluptuousness of the busts. In the +Lateran Museum Antinous appears as a god of flowers, holding in his +lap a multitude of blossoms, and wearing on his head a wreath. The +conception of this statue provokes comparison with the Flora of the +Neapolitan Museum. I should like to recognise in it a Dionysus +Antheus, rather than one of the more prosy Roman gods of +horticulture. Not unworthy to rank with these first-rate portraits +of Antinous is a Ganymede, engraved by the Dilettante Society, +which represents him standing alert, in one hand holding the +wine-jug and in the other lifting a cup aloft. It will be seen from +even this brief enumeration of a <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg223" id="pg223">223</a></span> few among the statues of +Antinous, how many and how various they are. One, however, remains +still to be discussed, which, so far as concerns the story of +Antinous, is by far the most interesting of all. As a work of art, +to judge by photographs, it is inferior to others in execution and +design. Yet could we but understand its meaning clearly, the +mystery of Antinous would be solved: the key to the whole matter +probably lies here; but, alas! we know not how to use it. I speak +of the Ildefonso Group at Madrid.<a name="FNanchor_1_49" id= +"FNanchor_1_49" /><a href="#Footnote_1_49" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_49" id="Footnote_1_49" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_49"><span class="label">[1]</span></a><a href= +"images/ildefonso.jpg">See Frontispiece.</a></p> +</div> + +<p>On one pedestal there are three figures in white marble. To the +extreme right of the spectator stands a little female statue of a +goddess, in archaistic style, crowned with the calathos, and +holding a sphere, probably of pomegranate fruit, to her breast. To +the left of this image are two young men, three times the height of +the goddess, quite naked, standing one on each side of a low altar. +Both are crowned with a wreath of leaves and berries—laurel +or myrtle. The youth to the right, next the image, holds a torch in +either hand: with the right he turns the flaming point downwards, +till it lies upon the altar; with the left he lifts the other torch +aloft, and rests it on his shoulder. He has a beautiful +Græco-Roman face, touched with sadness or ineffable +reflection. The second youth leans against his comrade, resting his +left arm across the other's back, and this hand is lightly placed +upon the shoulder, close to the lifted torch. His right arm is +bent, and so placed that the hand just cuts the line of the pelvis +a little above the hip. The weight of his body is thrown +principally upon the right leg; the left foot is drawn back, away +from the altar. It is the attitude of the Apollo Sauroctonos. His +beautiful face, bent downward, is intently gazing with a calm, +collected, serious, and yet sad cast of earnest meditation. His +eyes seem fixed on something beyond him and beneath <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg224" id="pg224">224</a></span> him—as it +were on an inscrutable abyss; and in this direction also looks his +companion. The face is unmistakably the face of Antinous; yet the +figure, and especially the legs, are not characteristic. They seem +modelled after the conventional type of the Greek Ephebus. Parts of +the two torches and the lower half of the right arm of Antinous are +restorations.</p> + +<p>Such is the Ildefonso marble; and it may be said that its +execution is hard and rough—the arms of both figures are +carelessly designed; the hands and fingers are especially angular, +elongated, and ill-formed. But there is a noble feeling in the +whole group, notwithstanding. F. Tieck, the sculptor and brother of +the poet, was the first to suggest that we have here Antinous, the +Genius of Hadrian, and Persephone.<a name="FNanchor_1_50" id= +"FNanchor_1_50" /><a href="#Footnote_1_50" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> He also thought that the self-immolation of +Antinous was indicated by the loving, leaning attitude of the +younger man, and by his melancholy look of resolution. The same +view, in all substantial points, is taken by Friedrichs, author of +a work on Græco-Roman sculpture. But Friedrichs, while +admitting the identity of the younger figure with Antinous, and +recognising Persephone in the archaic image, is not prepared to +accept the elder as the Genius of Hadrian; and it must be confessed +that this face does not bear any resemblance to the portraits of +the Emperor. According to his interpretation, the Dæmon is +kindling the fire upon the sacrificial altar with the depressed +torch; and the second or lifted torch must be supposed to have been +needed for the performance of some obscure rite of immolation. What +Friedrichs fails to elucidate is the trustful attitude of Antinous, +who could scarcely have been conceived as thus affectionately <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg225" id="pg225">225</a></span> reclining +on the shoulder of a merely sacrificial dæmon; nor is there +anything upon the altar to kindle. It must, however, be conceded +that the imperfection of the marble at this point leaves the +restoration of the altar and the torch upon it doubtful.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_50" id="Footnote_1_50" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_50"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the +article on Antinous, by Victor Rydberg, in the <i>Svensk Tidskrift +för Litteratur, Politik, och Ekonomi</i>. 1875, Stockholm. +Also Karl Bötticher, <i>Königliches Museum, +Erklärendes Verzeichniss</i>. Berlin, 1871.</p> +</div> + +<p>Charles Bötticher started a new solution of the principal +problem. According to him, it was executed in the lifetime of +Antinous; and it represents not a sacrifice of death, but a +sacrifice of fidelity on the part of the two friends, Hadrian and +Antinous, who have met together before Persephone to ratify a vow +of love till death. He suggests that the wreaths are of +stephanotis, that large-leaved myrtle, which was sacred to the +Chthonian goddesses after the liberation of Semele from Hades by +her son Dionysus. With reference to such ceremonies between Greek +comrades, Bötticher cites a vase upon which Theseus and +Peirithous are sacrificing in the temple of Persephone; and he +assumes that there may have existed Athenian groups in marble +representing similar vows of friendship, from which Hadrian had +this marble copied. He believes that the Genius of Hadrian is +kindling one torch at the sacred fire, which he will reach to +Antinous, while he holds the other in readiness to kindle for +himself. This explanation is both ingenious and beautiful. It has +also the great merit of explaining the action of the right arm of +Antinous. Yet it is hardly satisfactory. It throws no light upon +the melancholy and solemnity of both figures, which irresistibly +suggest a funereal rather than a joyous rite. Antinous is not even +looking at the altar, and the meditative curves of his beautiful +reclining form indicate anything rather than the spirited alacrity +with which a friend would respond to his comrade's call at such a +moment. Besides, why should not the likeness of Hadrian have been +preserved as well as that of Antinous, if the group commemorated an +act of their joint <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg226" id= +"pg226">226</a></span> will? On the other hand, we must admit that +the altar itself is not dressed for a funereal sacrifice.</p> + +<p>It has been pointed out that in the British Museum there exists +a basrelief of Homer's apotheosis where we notice a figure holding +two torches. Is it, then, possible that the Ildefonso marble may +express, not the sacrifice, but the apotheosis of Antinous, and +that the Genius who holds the two torches is conferring on him +immortality? The lifted torch would symbolise his new life, and the +depressed torch would stand for the life he had devoted. According +to this explanation, the sorrowful expression of Antinous must +indicate the agony of death through which he passed into the +company of the undying. Against this interpretation is the fact +that we have no precise authority for the symbolism of the torches, +except only the common inversion of the life-brand by the Genius of +Death.</p> + +<p>Yet another solution may be suggested. Assuming that we have +before us a sacrificial ceremony, and that the group was executed +after the self-devotion of Antinous had passed into the popular +belief, we may regard the elder youth as either the Genius of the +Emperor, separate in spirit from Hadrian himself and presiding over +his destinies, who accepts the offer of Antinous with solemn +calmness suited to so great a gift; or else as the Genius of the +Roman people, witnessing the same act in the same majestic spirit. +This view finds some support in the abstract ideality of the +torch-bearer, who is clearly no historical personage as Antinous +himself is, but rather a power controlling his fate. The +interpretation of the two torches remains very difficult. In the +torch flung down upon the flameless and barren altar we might +recognise a symbol of Hadrian's life upon the point of extinction, +but not yet extinguished; and in the torch lifted aloft we might +find a metaphor of life resuscitated and exalted. Nor is it <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg227" id="pg227">227</a></span> perhaps +without significance that the arm of the self-immolating youth +meets the upraised torch, as though to touch the life which he will +purchase with his death. There is, however, the objection stated +above to this bold use of symbolism.</p> + +<p>In support of any explanation which ascribes this group to a +period later than the canonisation of Antinous, it may be repeated +that the execution is inferior to that of almost all the other +statues of the hero. Is it possible, then, that it belongs to a +subsequent date, when art was further on the wane, but when the +self-devotion of Antinous had become a dogma of his cult?</p> + +<p>After all is said, the Ildefonso marble, like the legend of +Antinous, remains a mystery. Only hypotheses, more or less +ingenious, more or less suited to our sympathies, varying between +Casaubon's coarse vilification and Rydberg's roseate vision, are +left us.</p> + +<p>As a last note on the subject of Antinous let me refer to +Raphael's statue of Jonah in the Chigi Chapel of S. Maria del +Popolo at Rome. Raphael, who handled the myth of Cupid and Psyche +so magnificently in the Villa Farnesina of his patron Agostino +Chigi, dedicated a statue of Antinous—the only statue he ever +executed in marble—under the title of a Hebrew prophet in a +Christian sanctuary. The fact is no less significant than strange. +During the early centuries of Christianity, as is amply proved by +the sarcophagi in the Lateran Museum, Jonah symbolised +self-sacrifice and immortality. He was a type of Christ, an emblem +of the Christian's hope beyond the grave. During those same +centuries Antinous represented the same ideas, however +inadequately, however dimly, for the unlettered laity of Paganism. +It could scarcely have been by accident, or by mere admiration for +the features of Antinous, that Raphael, in his marble, blent the +Christian <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg228" id= +"pg228">228</a></span> and the Pagan traditions. To unify and to +transcend the double views of Christianity and Paganism in a work +of pure art was Raphael's instinctive, if not his conscious, aim. +Nor is there a more striking instance of this purpose than the +youthful Jonah with the head of Hadrian's favourite. Leonardo's +Dionysus-John-the-Baptist seems but a careless <i>jeu d'esprit</i> +compared with this profound and studied symbol of renascent +humanism. Thus to regard the Jonah-Antinous of the Cappella Chigi +as a type of immortality and self-devotion, fusing Christian and +Græco-Roman symbolism in one work of modern art, is the most +natural interpretation; but it would not be impossible to trace in +it a metaphor of the resurgent Pagan spirit also—as though, +leaving Jonah and his Biblical associations in the background, the +artist had determined that from the mouth of the monstrous grave +should issue not a bearded prophet, but the victorious youth who +had captivated with his beauty and his heroism the sunset age of +the classic world. At any rate, whatever may have been Raphael's +intention, the legend of Antinous, that last creation of antique +mythology, shines upon us in this marble, just as the tale of Hero +and Leander, that last blossom of antique literature, flowers +afresh in the verses of our Marlowe. It would appear as though the +Renaissance poets, hastening to meet the classic world with arms of +welcome, had embraced its latest saints, as nearest to them, in the +rapture of their first enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Over all these questions, over all that concerns Antinous, there +rests a cloud of darkness and impenetrable doubt. To pierce that +cloud is now impossible. The utmost we can do is to indulge our +fancy in dreams of greater or less probability, and to mark out +clearly the limitations of the subject. It is indeed something to +have shown that the stigma of slavery and disgrace attaching to his +name has no solid historical justification, and something to have +suggested plausible reasons <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg229" +id="pg229">229</a></span> for conjecturing that his worship had a +genuine spiritual basis. Yet the sincere critic, at the end of the +whole inquiry, will confess that he has only cast a plummet into +the unfathomable sea of ignorance. What remains, immortal, +indestructible, victorious, is Antinous in art. Against the gloomy +background of doubt, calumny, contention, terrible surmise, his +statues are illuminated with the dying glory of the classic +genius—even as the towers and domes of a marble city shine +forth from the purple banks of a thunder-cloud in sunset light. +Here and here only does reality emerge from the chaos of +conflicting phantoms. Front to front with them, it is allowed us to +forget all else but the beauty of one who died young because the +gods loved him. But when we question those wonderful mute features +and beg them for their secret, they return no answer. There is not +even a smile upon the parted lips. So profound is the mystery, so +insoluble the enigma, that from its most importunate interrogation +we derive nothing but an attitude of deeper reverence. This in +itself, however, is worth the pains of study.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_51" id="FNanchor_1_51" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_51" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_51" id="Footnote_1_51" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_51"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I must +here express my indebtedness to my friend H.F. Brown for a large +portion of the materials used by me in this essay on Antinous, +which I had no means at Davos Platz of accumulating for myself, and +which he unearthed from the libraries of Florence in the course of +his own work, and generously placed at my disposal.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg230" id= +"pg230">230</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="WANDERINGS" id="WANDERINGS" /><i>SPRING +WANDERINGS</i></h3> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">Ana-Capri</div> +</div> + +<p>The storm-clouds at this season, though it is the bloom of May, +are daily piled in sulky or menacing masses over Vesuvius and the +Abruzzi, frothing out their curls of moulded mist across the bay, +and climbing the heavens with toppling castle towers and domes of +alabaster.</p> + +<p>We made the most of a tranquil afternoon, when there was an +armistice of storm, to climb the bluff of Mount Solaro. A ruined +fort caps that limestone bulwark; and there we lay together, +drinking the influences of sea, sun, and wind. Immeasurably deep +beneath us plunged the precipices, deep, deep descending to a bay +where fisher boats were rocking, diminished to a scale that made +the fishermen in them invisible. Low down above the waters wheeled +white gulls, and higher up the hawks and ospreys of the cliff +sailed out of sunlight into shadow. Immitigable strength is in the +moulding of this limestone, and sharp, clear definiteness marks yon +clothing of scant brushwood where the fearless goats are browsing. +The sublime of sculpturesque in crag structure is here, refined and +modulated by the sweetness of sea distances. For the air came pure +and yielding to us over the unfooted sea; and at the basement of +those fortress-cliffs the sea was dreaming in its caves; and far +away, to east and south and west, soft light was blent with mist +upon the surface of the shimmering waters.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg231" id="pg231">231</a></span> +The distinction between prospects viewed from a mountain +overlooking a great plain, or viewed from heights that, like this, +dominate the sea, principally lies in this: that while the former +only offer cloud shadows cast upon the fields below our feet, in +the latter these shadows are diversified with cloud reflections. +This gives superiority in qualities of colour, variety of tone, and +luminous effect to the sea, compensating in some measure for the +lack of those associations which render the outlook over a wide +extent of populated land so thrilling. The emergence of towered +cities into sunlight at the skirts of moving shadows, the liquid +lapse of rivers half disclosed by windings among woods, the +upturned mirrors of unruffled lakes, are wanting to the sea. For +such episodes the white sails of vessels, with all their +wistfulness of going to and fro on the mysterious deep, are but a +poor exchange. Yet the sea-lover may justify his preference by +appealing to the beauty of empurpled shadows, toned by amethyst or +opal, or shining with violet light, reflected from the clouds that +cross and find in those dark shields a mirror. There are +suggestions, too, of immensity, of liberty, of action, presented by +the boundless horizons and the changeful changeless tracts of ocean +which no plain possesses.</p> + +<p>It was nigh upon sunset when we descended to Ana-Capri. That +evening the clouds assembled suddenly. The armistice of storm was +broken. They were terribly blue, and the sea grew dark as steel +beneath them, till the moment when the sun's lip reached the last +edge of the waters. Then a courier of rosy flame sent forth from +him passed swift across the gulf, touching, where it trod, the +waves with accidental fire. The messenger reached Naples; and in a +moment, as by some diabolical illumination, the sinful city kindled +into light like glowing charcoal. From Posilippo on the left, along +the palaces of the Chiaja, up to S. Elmo on the hill, past Santa +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg232" id="pg232">232</a></span> +Lucia, down on the Marinella, beyond Portici, beyond Torre del +Greco, where Vesuvius towered up aloof, an angry mount of +amethystine gloom, the conflagration spread and reached Pompeii, +and dwelt on Torre dell' Annunziata. Stationary, lurid, it +smouldered while the day died slowly. The long, densely populated +sea-line from Pozzuoli to Castellammare burned and smoked with +intensest incandescence, sending a glare of fiery mist against the +threatening blue behind, and fringing with pomegranate-coloured +blots the water where no light now lingered. It is difficult to +bend words to the use required. The scene, in spite of natural +suavity and grace, had become like Dante's first glimpse of the +City of Dis—like Sodom and Gomorrah when fire from heaven +descended on their towers before they crumbled into dust.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">From Capri to Ischia</div> +</div> + +<p>After this, for several days, Libeccio blew harder. No boats +could leave or come to Capri. From the piazza parapet we saw the +wind scooping the surface of the waves, and flinging spray-fleeces +in sheets upon the churning water. As they broke on Cape +Campanella, the rollers climbed in foam—how many +feet?—and blotted out the olive-trees above the headland. The +sky was always dark with hanging clouds and masses of low-lying +vapour, very moist, but scarcely raining—lightning without +thunder in the night.</p> + +<p>Such weather is unexpected in the middle month of May, +especially when the olives are blackened by December storms, and +the orange-trees despoiled of foliage, and the tendrils of the +vines yellow with cold. The walnut-trees have shown no sign of +making leaves. Only the figs seem to have suffered little.</p> + +<p>It had been settled that we should start upon the first <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg233" id="pg233">233</a></span> seafaring +dawn for Ischia or Sorrento, according as the wind might set; and I +was glad when, early one morning, the captain of the <i>Serena</i> +announced a moderate sirocco. When we reached the little quay we +found the surf of the Libeccio still rolling heavily into the gulf. +A gusty south-easter crossed it, tearing spray-crests from the +swell as it went plunging onward. The sea was rough enough; but we +made fast sailing, our captain steering with a skill which it was +beautiful to watch, his five oarsmen picturesquely grouped beneath +the straining sail. The sea slapped and broke from time to time on +our windward quarter, drenching the boat with brine; and now and +then her gunwale scooped into the shoulder of a wave as she shot +sidling up it. Meanwhile enormous masses of leaden-coloured clouds +formed above our heads and on the sea-line; but these were always +shifting in the strife of winds, and the sun shone through them +petulantly. As we climbed the rollers, or sank into their trough, +the outline of the bay appeared in glimpses, shyly revealed, +suddenly withdrawn from sight; the immobility and majesty of +mountains contrasted with the weltering waste of water round +us—now blue and garish where the sunlight fell, now shrouded +in squally rain-storms, and then again sullen beneath a vaporous +canopy. Each of these vignettes was photographed for one brief +second on the brain, and swallowed by the hurling drift of billows. +The painter's art could but ill have rendered that changeful colour +in the sea, passing from tawny cloud-reflections and surfaces of +glowing violet to bright blue or impenetrable purple flecked with +boiling foam, according as a light-illuminated or a shadowed facet +of the moving mass was turned to sight.</p> + +<p>Halfway across the gulf the sirocco lulled; the sail was +lowered, and we had to make the rest of the passage by rowing. +Under the lee of Ischia we got into comparatively quiet <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg234" id="pg234">234</a></span> water; +though here the beautiful Italian sea was yellowish green with +churned-up sand, like an unripe orange. We passed the castle on its +rocky island, with the domed church which has been so often painted +in <i>gouache</i> pictures through the last two centuries, and soon +after noon we came to Casamicciola.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">La Piccola Sentinella</div> +</div> + +<p>Casamicciola is a village on the north side of the island, in +its centre, where the visitors to the mineral baths of Ischia +chiefly congregate. One of its old-established inns is called La +Piccola Sentinella. The first sight on entrance is an open gallery, +with a pink wall on which bloom magnificent cactuses, sprays of +thick-clustering scarlet and magenta flowers. This is a rambling +house, built in successive stages against a hill, with terraces and +verandahs opening on unexpected gardens to the back and front. +Beneath its long irregular façade there spreads a wilderness +of orange-trees and honeysuckles and roses, verbenas, geraniums and +mignonette, snapdragons, gazanias and stocks, exceeding bright and +fragrant, with the green slopes of Monte Epomeo for a background +and Vesuvius for far distance. There are wonderful bits of detail +in this garden. One dark, thick-foliaged olive, I remember, leaning +from the tufa over a lizard-haunted wall, feathered waist-high in +huge acanthus leaves. The whole rich orchard ground of Casamicciola +is dominated by Monte Epomeo, the extinct volcano which may be +called the <i>raison d'être</i> of Ischia; for this island is +nothing but a mountain lifted by the energy of fire from the +sea-basement. Its fantastic peaks and ridges, sulphur-coloured, +dusty grey, and tawny, with brushwood in young leaf upon the cloven +flanks, form a singular pendant to the austere but more +artistically modelled limestone crags of Capri. No two islands that +I know, within so <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg235" id= +"pg235">235</a></span> short a space of sea, offer two pictures so +different in style and quality of loveliness. The inhabitants are +equally distinct in type. Here, in spite of what De Musset wrote +somewhat affectedly about the peasant girls—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i5">Ischia! c'est là qu'on a des yeux,</div> + +<div class="i5">C'est là qu'un corsage amoureux</div> + +<div class="i11">Serre la hanche.</div> + +<div class="i5">Sur un bas rouge bien tiré</div> + +<div class="i5">Brille, sous le jupon doré,</div> + +<div class="i11">La mule blanche—</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>in spite of these lines I did not find the Ischian women +eminent, as those of Capri are, for beauty. But the young men have +fine, loose, faun-like figures, and faces that would be strikingly +handsome but for too long and prominent noses. They are a singular +race, graceful in movement.</p> + +<p>Evening is divine in Ischia. From the topmost garden terrace of +the inn one looks across the sea towards Terracina, Gaeta, and +those descending mountain buttresses, the Phlegræan plains, +and the distant snows of the Abruzzi. Rain-washed and luminous, the +sunset sky held Hesper trembling in a solid green of beryl. +Fireflies flashed among the orange blossoms. Far away in the +obscurity of eastern twilight glared the smouldering cone of +Vesuvius—a crimson blot upon the darkness—a Cyclops' +eye, bloodshot and menacing.</p> + +<p>The company in the Piccola Sentinella, young and old, were +decrepit, with an odd, rheumatic, shrivelled look upon them. The +dining-room reminded me, as certain rooms are apt to do, of a +ship's saloon. I felt as though I had got into the cabin of the +<i>Flying Dutchman</i>, and that all these people had been sitting +there at meat a hundred years, through storm and shine, for ever +driving onward over immense waves in an enchanted calm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg236" id= +"pg236">236</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">Ischia and Forio</div> +</div> + +<p>One morning we drove along the shore, up hill, and down, by the +Porto d'Ischia to the town and castle. This country curiously +combines the qualities of Corfu and Catania. The near distance, so +richly cultivated, with the large volcanic slopes of Monte Epomeo +rising from the sea, is like Catania. Then, across the gulf, are +the bold outlines and snowy peaks of the Abruzzi, recalling +Albanian ranges. Here, as in Sicily, the old lava is overgrown with +prickly pear and red valerian. Mesembrianthemums—I must be +pardoned this word; for I cannot omit those fleshy-leaved creepers, +with their wealth of gaudy blossoms, shaped like sea anemones, +coloured like strawberry and pineapple +cream-ices—mesembrianthemums, then, tumble in torrents from +the walls, and large-cupped white convolvuluses curl about the +hedges. The Castle Rock, with Capri's refined sky-coloured outline +relieving its hard profile on the horizon, is one of those +exceedingly picturesque objects just too theatrical to be artistic. +It seems ready-made for a back scene in 'Masaniello,' and cries out +to the chromo-lithographer, 'Come and make the most of me!' Yet +this morning all things, in sea, earth, and sky, were so delicately +tinted and bathed in pearly light that it was difficult to be +critical.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon we took the other side of the island, driving +through Lacca to Forio. One gets right round the bulk of Epomeo, +and looks up into a weird region called Le Falange, where white +lava streams have poured in two broad irregular torrents among +broken precipices. Forio itself is placed at the end of a flat +headland, boldly thrust into the sea; and its furthest promontory +bears a pilgrimage church, intensely white and glaring.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg237" id="pg237">237</a></span> +There is something arbitrary in the memories we make of places +casually visited, dependent as they are upon our mood at the +moment, or on an accidental interweaving of impressions which the +<i>genius loci</i> blends for us. Of Forio two memories abide with +me. The one is of a young woman, with very fair hair, in a light +blue dress, standing beside an older woman in a garden. There was a +flourishing pomegranate-tree above them. The whiteness and the +dreamy smile of the young woman seemed strangely out of tune with +her strong-toned southern surroundings. I could have fancied her a +daughter of some moist north-western isle of Scandinavian seas. My +other memory is of a lad, brown, handsome, powerfully featured, +thoughtful, lying curled up in the sun upon a sort of ladder in his +house-court, profoundly meditating. He had a book in his hand, and +his finger still marked the place where he had read. He looked as +though a Columbus or a Campanella might emerge from his earnest, +fervent, steadfast adolescence. Driving rapidly along, and leaving +Forio in all probability for ever, I kept wondering whether those +two lives, discerned as though in vision, would meet—whether +she was destined to be his evil genius, whether posterity would +hear of him and journey to his birthplace in this world-neglected +Forio. Such reveries are futile. Yet who entirely resists them?</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">Monte Epomeo</div> +</div> + +<p>About three on the morning which divides the month of May into +two equal parts I woke and saw the waning moon right opposite my +window, stayed in her descent upon the slope of Epomeo. Soon +afterwards Christian called me, and we settled to ascend the +mountain. Three horses and a stout black donkey, with their +inevitable grooms, were ordered; <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg238" id="pg238">238</a></span> and we took for guide a lovely +faun-like boy, goat-faced, goat-footed, with gentle manners and +pliant limbs swaying beneath the breath of impulse. He was called +Giuseppe.</p> + +<p>The way leads past the mineral baths and then strikes uphill, at +first through lanes cut deep in the black lava. The trees meet +almost overhead. It is like Devonshire, except that one half hopes +to see tropical foxgloves with violet bells and downy leaves +sprouting among the lush grasses and sweet-scented ferns upon those +gloomy, damp, warm walls. After this we skirted a thicket of +arbutus, and came upon the long volcanic ridge, with divinest +outlook over Procida and Miseno toward Vesuvius. Then once more we +had to dive into brown sandstone gullies, extremely steep, where +the horses almost burst their girths in scrambling, and the grooms +screamed, exasperating their confusion with encouragements and +curses. Straight or bending as a willow wand, Giuseppe kept in +front. I could have imagined he had stepped to life from one of +Lionardo's fancy-sprighted studies.</p> + +<p>After this fashion we gained the spine of mountain which +composes Ischia—the smooth ascending ridge that grows up from +those eastern waves to what was once the apex of fire-vomiting +Inarime, and breaks in precipices westward, a ruin of gulfed lava, +tortured by the violence of pent Typhoeus. Under a vast umbrella +pine we dismounted, rested, and saw Capri. Now the road skirts +slanting-wise along the further flank of Epomeo, rising by muddy +earth-heaps and sandstone hollows to the quaint pinnacles which +build the summit. There is no inconsiderable peril in riding over +this broken ground; for the soil crumbles away, and the ravines +open downward, treacherously masked with brushwood.</p> + +<p>On Epomeo's topmost cone a chapel dedicated to S. Niccolo da +Bari, the Italian patron of seamen, has been <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg239" id="pg239">239</a></span> hollowed from +the rock. Attached to it is the dwelling of two hermits, +subterranean, with long dark corridors and windows opening on the +western seas. Church and hermitage alike are scooped, with slight +expenditure of mason's skill, from solid mountain. The windows are +but loopholes, leaning from which the town of Forio is seen, 2500 +feet below; and the jagged precipices of the menacing Falange toss +their contorted horror forth to sea and sky. Through gallery and +grotto we wound in twilight under a monk's guidance, and came at +length upon the face of the crags above Casamicciola. A few steps +upward, cut like a ladder in the stone, brought us to the topmost +peak—a slender spire of soft, yellowish tufa. It reminded me +(with differences) of the way one climbs the spire at Strasburg, +and stands upon that temple's final crocket, with nothing but a +lightning conductor to steady swimming senses. Different indeed are +the views unrolled beneath the peak of Epomeo and the pinnacle of +Strasburg! Vesuvius, with the broken lines of Procida, Miseno, and +Lago Fusaro for foreground; the sculpturesque beauty of Capri, +buttressed in everlasting calm upon the waves; the Phlegræan +plains and champaign of Volturno, stretching between smooth seas +and shadowy hills; the mighty sweep of Naples' bay; all merged in +blue; aërial, translucent, exquisitely frail. In this ethereal +fabric of azure the most real of realities, the most solid of +substances, seem films upon a crystal sphere.</p> + +<p>The hermit produced some flasks of amber-coloured wine from his +stores in the grotto. These we drank, lying full-length upon the +tufa in the morning sunlight. The panorama of sea, sky, and +long-drawn lines of coast, breathless, without a ripple or a taint +of cloud, spread far and wide around us. Our horses and donkey +cropped what little grass, blent with bitter herbage, grew on that +barren summit. Their grooms <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg240" +id="pg240">240</a></span> helped us out with the hermit's wine, and +turned to sleep face downward. The whole scene was very quiet, +islanded in immeasurable air. Then we asked the boy, Giuseppe, +whether he could guide us on foot down the cliffs of Monte Epomeo +to Casamicciola. This he was willing and able to do; for he told me +that he had spent many months each year upon the hillside, tending +goats. When rough weather came, he wrapped himself in a blanket +from the snow that falls and melts upon the ledges. In summer time +he basked the whole day long, and slept the calm ambrosial nights +away. Something of this free life was in the burning eyes, long +clustering dark hair, and smooth brown bosom of the faun-like +creature. His graceful body had the brusque, unerring movement of +the goats he shepherded. Human thought and emotion seemed a-slumber +in this youth who had grown one with nature. As I watched his +careless incarnate loveliness I remembered lines from an old +Italian poem of romance, describing a dweller of the forest, +who</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Haunteth the woodland aye 'neath verdurous +shade,</div> + +<div class="i4">Eateth wild fruit, drinketh of running +stream;</div> + +<div class="i4">And such-like is his nature, as 'tis said,</div> + +<div class="i4">That ever weepeth he when clear skies gleam,</div> + +<div class="i4">Seeing of storms and rain he then hath dread,</div> + +<div class="i4">And feareth lest the sun's heat fail for him;</div> + +<div class="i4">But when on high hurl winds and clouds +together,</div> + +<div class="i4">Full glad is he and waiteth for fair weather.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Giuseppe led us down those curious volcanic <i>balze</i>, where +the soil is soft as marl, with tints splashed on it of pale green +and rose and orange, and a faint scent in it of sulphur. They break +away into wild chasms, where rivulets begin; and here the narrow +watercourses made for us plain going. The turf beneath our feet was +starred with cyclamens and wavering anemones. At last we reached +the chestnut woods, and so <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg241" +id="pg241">241</a></span> by winding paths descended on the +village. Giuseppe told me, as we walked, that in a short time he +would be obliged to join the army. He contemplated this duty with a +dim and undefined dislike. Nor could I, too, help dreading and +misliking it for him. The untamed, gentle creature, who knew so +little but his goats as yet, whose nights had been passed from +childhood <i>à la belle étoile</i>, whose limbs had +never been cumbered with broadcloth or belt—for him to be +shut up in the barrack of some Lombard city, packed in white +conscript's sacking, drilled, taught to read and write, and +weighted with the knapsack and the musket! There was something +lamentable in the prospect. But such is the burden of man's life, +of modern life especially. United Italy demands of her children +that by this discipline they should be brought into that harmony +which builds a nation out of diverse elements.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">From Ischia to Naples</div> +</div> + +<p>Ischia showed a new aspect on the morning of our departure. A +sea-mist passed along the skirts of the island, and rolled in heavy +masses round the peaks of Monte Epomeo, slowly condensing into +summer clouds, and softening each outline with a pearly haze, +through which shone emerald glimpses of young vines and +fig-trees.</p> + +<p>We left in a boat with four oarsmen for Pozzuoli. For about an +hour the breeze carried us well, while Ischia behind grew ever +lovelier, soft as velvet, shaped like a gem. The mist had become a +great white luminous cloud—not dense and alabastrine, like +the clouds of thunder; but filmy, tender, comparable to the +atmosphere of Dante's moon. Porpoises and sea-gulls played and +fished about our bows, dividing the <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg242" id="pg242">242</a></span> dark brine in spray. The mountain +distances were drowned in bluish vapour—Vesuvius quite +invisible. About noon the air grew clearer, and Capri reared her +fortalice of sculptured rock, aërially azure, into liquid +ether. I know not what effect of atmosphere or light it is that +lifts an island from the sea by interposing that thin edge of +lustrous white between it and the water. But this phenomenon to-day +was perfectly exhibited. Like a mirage on the wilderness, like Fata +Morgana's palace ascending from the deep, the pure and noble vision +stayed suspense 'twixt heaven and ocean. At the same time the +breeze failed, and we rowed slowly between Procida and Capo +Miseno—a space in old-world history athrong with +Cæsar's navies. When we turned the point, and came in sight +of Baiæ, the wind freshened and took us flying into Pozzuoli. +The whole of this coast has been spoiled by the recent upheaval of +Monte Nuovo with its lava floods and cindery deluges. Nothing +remains to justify its fame among the ancient Romans and the +Neapolitans of Boccaccio's and Pontano's age. It is quite wrecked, +beyond the power even of hendecasyllables to bring again its breath +of beauty:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i7">Mecum si sapies, Gravina, mecum</div> + +<div class="i7">Baias, et placidos coles recessus,</div> + +<div class="i7">Quos ipsæ et veneres colunt, et illa</div> + +<div class="i7">Quæ mentes hominum regit voluptas.</div> + +<div class="i7">Hic vina et choreæ jocique regnant,</div> + +<div class="i7">Regnant et charites facetiæque.</div> + +<div class="i7">Has sedes amor, has colit cupido.</div> + +<div class="i7">His passim juvenes puellulæque</div> + +<div class="i7">Ludunt, et tepidis aquis lavantur,</div> + +<div class="i7">Coenantque et dapibus leporibusque</div> + +<div class="i7">Miscent delitias venustiores:</div> + +<div class="i7">Miscent gaudia et osculationes,</div> + +<div class="i7">Atque una sociis toris foventur,</div> + +<div class="i7">Has te ad delitias vocant camoenæ;</div> + +<div class="i7">Invitat mare, myrteumque littus;</div> + +<div class="i7"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg243" id= +"pg243">243</a></span> Invitant volueres canoræ, et +ipse</div> + +<div class="i7">Gaurus pampineas parat corollas.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_52" id="FNanchor_1_52" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_52" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_52" id="Footnote_1_52" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_52"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> These +verses are extracted from the second book of Pontano's +<i>Hendecasyllabi</i> (Aldus, 1513, p. 208). They so vividly paint +the amusements of a watering-place in the fifteenth century that I +have translated them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2">With me, let but the mind be wise, Gravina,</div> + +<div class="i2">With me haste to the tranquil haunts of +Baiæ,</div> + +<div class="i2">Haunts that pleasure hath made her home, and she +who</div> + +<div class="i2">Sways all hearts, the voluptuous Aphrodite.</div> + +<div class="i2">Here wine rules, and the dance, and games and +laughter;</div> + +<div class="i2">Graces reign in a round of mirthful madness;</div> + +<div class="i2">Love hath built, and desire, a palace here +too,</div> + +<div class="i2">Where glad youths and enamoured girls on all +sides</div> + +<div class="i2">Play and bathe in the waves in sunny weather,</div> + +<div class="i2">Dine and sup, and the merry mirth of banquets</div> + +<div class="i2">Blend with dearer delights and love's +embraces,</div> + +<div class="i2">Blend with pleasures of youth and honeyed +kisses,</div> + +<div class="i2">Till, sport-tired, in the couch inarmed they +slumber.</div> + +<div class="i2">Thee our Muses invite to these enjoyments;</div> + +<div class="i2">Thee those billows allure, the myrtled +seashore,</div> + +<div class="i2">Birds allure with a song, and mighty Gaurus</div> + +<div class="i2">Twines his redolent wreath of vines and ivy.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>At Pozzuoli we dined in the Albergo del Ponte di Caligola +(Heaven save the mark!), and drank Falernian wine of modern and +indifferent vintage. Then Christian hired two open carriages for +Naples. He and I sat in the second. In the first we placed the two +ladies of our party. They had a large, fat driver. Just after we +had all passed the gate a big fellow rushed up, dragged the +corpulent coachman from his box, pulled out a knife, and made a +savage thrust at the man's stomach. At the same moment a +<i>guardia-porta</i>, with drawn cutlass, interposed and struck +between the combatants. They were separated. Their respective +friends assembled in two jabbering crowds, and the whole party, +uttering vociferous objurgations, marched off, as I imagined, to +the watch-house. A very shabby lazzarone, without more ado, <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg244" id="pg244">244</a></span> sprang on +the empty box, and we made haste for Naples. Being only anxious to +get there, and not at all curious about the squabble which had +deprived us of our fat driver, I relapsed into indifference when I +found that neither of the men to whose lot we had fallen was +desirous of explaining the affair. It was sufficient cause for +self-congratulation that no blood had been shed, and that the +Procuratore del Rè would not require our evidence.</p> + +<p>The Grotta di Posilippo was a sight of wonder, with the +afternoon sun slanting on its festoons of creeping plants above the +western entrance—the gas lamps, dust, huge carts, oxen, and +<i>contadini</i> in its subterranean darkness—and then the +sudden revelation of the bay and city as we jingled out into the +summery air again by Virgil's tomb.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">Night at Pompeii</div> +</div> + +<p>On to Pompeii in the clear sunset, falling very lightly upon +mountains, islands, little ports, and indentations of the bay.</p> + +<p>From the railway station we walked above half a mile to the +Albergo del Sole under a lucid heaven of aqua-marine colour, with +Venus large in it upon the border line between the tints of green +and blue.</p> + +<p>The Albergo del Sole is worth commemorating. We stepped, without +the intervention of courtyard or entrance hall, straight from the +little inn garden into an open, vaulted room. This was divided into +two compartments by a stout column supporting round arches. Wooden +gates furnished a kind of fence between the atrium and what an old +Pompeian would have styled the triclinium. For in the further part +a table was laid for supper and lighted with suspended lamps. And +here a party of artists and students drank and talked and <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg245" id="pg245">245</a></span> smoked. A +great live peacock, half asleep and winking his eyes, sat perched +upon a heavy wardrobe watching them. The outer chamber, where we +waited in armchairs of ample girth, had its <i>loggia</i> windows +and doors open to the air. There were singing-birds in cages; and +plants of rosemary, iris, and arundo sprang carelessly from holes +in the floor. A huge vase filled to overflowing with oranges and +lemons, the very symbol of generous prodigality, stood in the +midst, and several dogs were lounging round. The outer twilight, +blending with the dim sheen of the lamps, softened this pretty +scene to picturesqueness. Altogether it was a strange and +unexpected place. Much experienced as the nineteenth-century nomad +may be in inns, he will rarely receive a more powerful and +refreshing impression, entering one at evenfall, than here.</p> + +<p>There was no room for us in the inn. We were sent, attended by a +boy with a lantern, through fields of dew-drenched barley and +folded poppies, to a farmhouse overshadowed by four spreading +pines. Exceedingly soft and grey, with rose-tinted weft of steam +upon its summit, stood Vesuvius above us in the twilight. Something +in the recent impression of the dimly lighted supper-room, and in +the idyllic simplicity of this lantern-litten journey through the +barley, suggested, by one of those inexplicable stirrings of +association which affect tired senses, a dim, dreamy thought of +Palestine and Bible stories. The feeling of the <i>cenacolo</i> +blent here with feelings of Ruth's cornfields, and the white square +houses with their flat roofs enforced the illusion. Here we slept +in the middle of a <i>contadino</i> colony. Some of the folk had +made way for us; and by the wheezing, coughing, and snoring of +several sorts and ages in the chamber next me, I imagine they must +have endured considerable crowding. My bed was large enough to have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg246" id="pg246">246</a></span> +contained a family. Over its bead there was a little shrine, +hollowed in the thickness of the wall, with several sacred emblems +and a shallow vase of holy water. On dressers at each end of the +room stood glass shrines, occupied by finely dressed Madonna dolls +and pots of artificial flowers. Above the doors S. Michael and S. +Francis, roughly embossed in low relief and boldly painted, gave +dignity and grandeur to the walls. These showed some sense for art +in the first builders of the house. But the taste of the +inhabitants could not be praised. There were countless gaudy prints +of saints, and exactly five pictures of the Bambino, very big, and +sprawling in a field alone. A crucifix, some old bottles, a gun, +old clothes suspended from pegs, pieces of peasant pottery and +china, completed the furniture of the apartment.</p> + +<p>But what a view it showed when Christian next morning opened the +door! From my bed I looked across the red-tiled terrace to the +stone-pines with their velvet roofage and the blue-peaked hills of +Stabiæ.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">San Germano</div> +</div> + +<p>No one need doubt about his quarters in this country town. The +Albergo di Pompeii is a truly sumptuous place. Sofas, tables, and +chairs in our sitting-room are made of buffalo horns, very cleverly +pieced together, but torturing the senses with suggestions of +impalement. Sitting or standing, one felt insecure. When would the +points run into us? when should we begin to break these +incrustations off? and would the whole fabric crumble at a touch +into chaotic heaps of horns?</p> + +<p>It is market day, and the costumes in the streets are brilliant. +The women wear a white petticoat, a blue skirt made straight and +tightly bound above it, a white richly <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg247" id="pg247">247</a></span> worked bodice, and the white +square-folded napkin of the Abruzzi on their heads. Their jacket is +of red or green—pure colour. A rug of striped red, blue, +yellow, and black protects the whole dress from the rain. There is +a very noble quality of green—sappy and gemmy—like some +of Titian's or Giorgione's—in the stuffs they use. Their +build and carriage are worthy of goddesses.</p> + +<p>Rain falls heavily, persistently. We must ride on donkeys, in +waterproofs, to Monte Cassino. Mountain and valley, oak wood and +ilex grove, lentisk thicket and winding river-bed, are drowned +alike in soft-descending, soaking rain. Far and near the landscape +swims in rain, and the hillsides send down torrents through their +watercourses.</p> + +<p>The monastery is a square, dignified building, of vast extent +and princely solidity. It has a fine inner court, with sumptuous +staircases of slabbed stone leading to the church. This public +portion of the edifice is both impressive and magnificent, without +sacrifice of religious severity to parade. We acknowledge a +successful compromise between the austerity of the order and the +grandeur befitting the fame, wealth, prestige, and power of its +parent foundation. The church itself is a tolerable structure of +the Renaissance—costly marble incrustations and mosaics, +meaningless Neapolitan frescoes. One singular episode in the +mediocrity of art adorning it, is the tomb of Pietro de' Medici. +Expelled from Florence in 1494, he never returned, but was drowned +in the Garigliano. Clement VII. ordered, and Duke Cosimo I. +erected, this marble monument—the handicraft, in part at +least, of Francesco di San Gallo—to their relative. It is +singularly stiff, ugly, out of place—at once obtrusive and +insignificant.</p> + +<p>A gentle old German monk conducted Christian and me over the +convent—boys' school, refectory, printing press, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg248" id="pg248">248</a></span> lithographic +workshop, library, archives. We then returned to the church, from +which we passed to visit the most venerable and sacred portion of +the monastery. The cell of S. Benedict is being restored and +painted in fresco by the Austrian Benedictines; a pious but +somewhat frigid process of re-edification. This so-called cell is a +many-chambered and very ancient building, with a tower which is now +embedded in the massive superstructure of the modern monastery. The +German artists adorning it contrive to blend the styles of Giotto, +Fra Angelico, Egypt, and Byzance, not without force and a kind of +intense frozen pietism. S. Mauro's vision of his master's +translation to heaven—the ladder of light issuing between two +cypresses, and the angels watching on the tower walls—might +even be styled poetical. But the decorative angels on the roof and +other places, being adapted from Egyptian art, have a strange, +incongruous appearance.</p> + +<p>Monasteries are almost invariably disappointing to one who goes +in search of what gives virtue and solidity to human life; and even +Monte Cassino was no exception. This ought not to be otherwise, +seeing what a peculiar sympathy with the monastic institution is +required to make these cloisters comprehensible. The atmosphere of +operose indolence, prolonged through centuries and centuries, +stifles; nor can antiquity and influence impose upon a mind which +resents monkery itself as an essential evil. That Monte Cassino +supplied the Church with several potentates is incontestable. That +mediæval learning and morality would have suffered more +without this brotherhood cannot be doubted. Yet it is difficult to +name men of very eminent genius whom the Cassinesi claim as their +alumni; nor, with Boccaccio's testimony to their carelessness, and +with the evidence of their library before our eyes, can we rate +their services to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg249" id= +"pg249">249</a></span> civilised erudition very highly. I longed to +possess the spirit, for one moment, of Montalembert. I longed for +what is called historical imagination, for the indiscriminate +voracity of those men to whom world-famous sites are in themselves +soul-stirring.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg250" id= +"pg250">250</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="AMALFI" id="AMALFI"><i>AMALFI, PÆSTUM, +CAPRI</i></a></h3> + +<p>The road between Vietri and Amalfi is justly celebrated as one +of the most lovely pieces of coast scenery in Italy. Its only +rivals are the roads from Castellammare to Sorrento, from Genoa to +Sestri, and from Nice to Mentone. Each of these has its own charm; +and yet their similarity is sufficient to invite comparison: under +the spell of each in turn, we are inclined to say, This then, at +all events, is the most beautiful. On first quitting Vietri, +Salerno is left low down upon the sea-shore, nestling into a little +corner of the bay which bears its name, and backed up by gigantic +mountains. With each onward step these mountain-ranges expand in +long aërial line, revealing reaches of fantastic peaks, that +stretch away beyond the plain of Pæstum, till they end at +last in mist and sunbeams shimmering on the sea. On the left hand +hangs the cliff above the deep salt water, with here and there a +fig-tree spreading fanlike leaves against the blue beneath. On the +right rises the hillside, clothed with myrtle, lentisk, cistus, and +pale yellow coronilla—a tangle as sweet with scent as it is +gay with blossom. Over the parapet that skirts the precipice lean +heavy-foliaged locust-trees, and the terraces in sunny nooks are +set with lemon-orchards. There are but few olives, and no pines. +Meanwhile each turn in the road brings some change of +scene—now a village with its little beach of grey sand, +lapped by clearest sea-waves, where bare-legged fishermen mend +their nets, and naked boys bask like lizards in the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg251" id="pg251">251</a></span> sun—now +towering bastions of weird rock, broken into spires and pinnacles +like those of Skye, and coloured with bright hues of red and +orange—then a ravine, where the thin thread of a mountain +streamlet seems to hang suspended upon ferny ledges in the +limestone—or a precipice defined in profile against sea and +sky, with a lad, half dressed in goat-skin, dangling his legs into +vacuity and singing—or a tract of cultivation, where the +orange, apricot, and lemon trees nestle together upon terraces with +intermingled pergolas of vines.</p> + +<p>Amalfi and Atrani lie close together in two of these ravines, +the mountains almost arching over them, and the sea washing their +very house-walls. Each has its crowning campanile; but that of +Amalfi is the stranger of the two, like a Moorish tower at the top, +and coloured with green and yellow tiles that glitter in the +sunlight. The houses are all dazzling white, plastered against the +naked rock, rising on each other's shoulders to get a glimpse of +earth and heaven, jutting out on coigns of vantage from the +toppling cliff, and pierced with staircases as dark as night at +noonday. Some frequented lanes lead through the basements of these +houses; and as the donkeys pick their way from step to step in the +twilight, bare-chested macaroni-makers crowd forth like ants to see +us strangers pass. A myriad of swallows or a swarm of mason bees +might build a town like this.</p> + +<p>It is not easy to imagine the time when Amalfi and Atrani were +one town, with docks and arsenals and harbourage for their +associated fleets, and when these little communities were second in +importance to no naval power of Christian Europe. The Byzantine +Empire lost its hold on Italy during the eighth century; and after +this time the history of Calabria is mainly concerned with the +republics of Naples and Amalfi, their conflict with the Lombard +dukes of Benevento, their opposition to the Saracens, and their +final subjugation by the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg252" id= +"pg252">252</a></span> Norman conquerors of Sicily. Between the +year 839 A.D., when Amalfi freed itself from the control of Naples +and the yoke of Benevento, and the year 1131, when Roger of +Hauteville incorporated the republic in his kingdom of the Two +Sicilies, this city was the foremost naval and commercial port of +Italy. The burghers of Amalfi elected their own doge; founded the +Hospital of Jerusalem, whence sprang the knightly order of S. John; +gave their name to the richest quarter in Palermo; and owned +trading establishments or factories in all the chief cities of the +Levant. Their gold coinage of <i>tari</i> formed the standard of +currency before the Florentines had stamped the lily and S. John +upon the Tuscan florin. Their shipping regulations supplied Europe +with a code of maritime laws. Their scholars, in the darkest depth +of the dark ages, prized and conned a famous copy of the Pandects +of Justinian; and their seamen deserved the fame of having first +used, if they did not actually invent, the compass.</p> + +<p>To modern visitors those glorious centuries of Amalfitan power +and independence cannot but seem fabulous; so difficult is it for +us to imagine the conditions of society in Europe when a tiny city, +shut in between barren mountains and a tideless sea, without a +circumjacent territory, and with no resources but piracy or trade, +could develop maritime supremacy in the Levant and produce the +first fine flowers of liberty and culture.</p> + +<p>If the history of Amalfi's early splendour reads like a +brilliant legend, the story of its premature extinction has the +interest of a tragedy. The republic had grown and flourished on the +decay of the Greek Empire. When the hard-handed race of Hauteville +absorbed the heritage of Greeks and Lombards and Saracens in +Southern Italy, these adventurers succeeded in annexing Amalfi. But +it was not their interest to extinguish the state. On the contrary, +they relied for <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg253" id= +"pg253">253</a></span> assistance upon the navies and the armies of +the little commonwealth. New powers had meanwhile arisen in the +North of Italy, who were jealous of rivalry upon the open seas; and +when the Neapolitans resisted King Roger in 1135, they called Pisa +to their aid, and sent her fleet to destroy Amalfi. The ships of +Amalfi were on guard with Roger's navy in the Bay of Naples. The +armed citizens were, under Roger's orders, at Aversa. Meanwhile the +home of the republic lay defenceless on its mountain-girdled +seaboard. The Pisans sailed into the harbour, sacked the city, and +carried off the famous Pandects of Justinian as a trophy. Two years +later they returned, to complete the work of devastation. Amalfi +never recovered from the injuries and the humiliation of these two +attacks. It was ever thus that the Italians, like the children of +the dragon's teeth which Cadmus sowed, consumed each other. Pisa +cut the throat of her sister-port Amalfi, and Genoa gave a mortal +wound to Pisa, when the waters of Meloria were dyed with blood in +1284. Venice fought a duel to the death with Genoa in the +succeeding century; and what Venice failed to accomplish was +completed by Milan and the lords of the Visconti dynasty, who +crippled and enslaved the haughty queen of the Ligurian +Riviera.</p> + +<p>The naval and commercial prosperity of Amalfi was thus put an +end to by the Pisans in the twelfth century. But it was not then +that the town assumed its present aspect. What surprises the +student of history more than anything is the total absence of +fortifications, docks, arsenals, and breakwaters, bearing witness +to the ancient grandeur of a city which numbered 50,000 +inhabitants, and traded with Alexandria, Syria, and the far East. +Nothing of the sort, with the exception of a single solitary tower +upon the Monte Aureo, is visible. Nor will he fail to remember that +Amalfi and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg254" id= +"pg254">254</a></span> Atrani, which are now divided by a jutting +mountain buttress, were once joined by a tract of sea-beach, where +the galleys of the republic rested after sweeping the Levant, and +where the fishermen drew up their boats upon the smooth grey sand. +That also has disappeared. The violence of man was not enough to +reduce Amalfi to its present state of insignificance. The forces of +nature aided—partly by the gradual subsidence of the land, +which caused the lower quarters of the city to be submerged, and +separated Amalfi from her twin-port by covering the beach with +water—partly by a fearful tempest, accompanied by earthquake, +in 1343. Petrarch, then resident at Naples, witnessed the +destructive fury of this great convulsion, and the description he +wrote of it soon after its occurrence is so graphic that some +notice may well be taken of it here.</p> + +<p>His letter, addressed to the noble Roman, Giovanni Colonna, +begins with a promise to tell something of a storm which deserved +the title of 'poetic,' and in a degree so superlative that no +epithet but 'Homeric' would suffice to do it justice. This exordium +is singularly characteristic of Petrarch, who never forgot that he +was a literary man, and lost no opportunity of dragging the great +names of antiquity into his rhetorical compositions. The +catastrophe was hardly unexpected; for it had been prophesied by an +astrological bishop, whom Petrarch does not name, that Naples would +be overwhelmed by a terrible disaster in December 1343. The people +were therefore in a state of wild anxiety, repenting of their sins, +planning a total change of life under the fear of imminent death, +and neglecting their ordinary occupations. On the day of the +predicted calamity women roamed in trembling crowds through the +streets, pressing their babies to their breasts, and besieging the +altars of the saints with prayers. Petrarch, who shared the general +disquietude, kept <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg255" id= +"pg255">255</a></span> watching the signs of the weather; but +nothing happened to warrant an extraordinary panic. At sunset the +sky was quieter than usual; and he could discern none of the +symptoms of approaching tempest, to which his familiarity with the +mountains of Vaucluse accustomed him. After dusk he stationed +himself at a window to observe the moon until she went down, before +midnight, obscured by clouds. Then he betook himself to bed; but +scarcely had he fallen into his first sleep when a most horrible +noise aroused him. The whole house shook; the night-light on his +table was extinguished; and he was thrown with violence from his +couch. He was lodging in a convent; and soon after this first +intimation of the tempest he heard the monks calling to each other +through the darkness. From cell to cell they hurried, the ghastly +gleams of lightning falling on their terror-stricken faces. Headed +by the Prior, and holding crosses and relics of the saints in their +hands, they now assembled in Petrarch's chamber. Thence they +proceeded in a body to the chapel, where they spent the night in +prayer and expectation of impending ruin. It would be impossible, +says the poet, to relate the terrors of that hellish +night—the deluges of rain, the screaming of the wind, the +earthquake, the thunder, the howling of the sea, and the shrieks of +agonising human beings. All these horrors were prolonged, as though +by some magician's spell, for what seemed twice the duration of a +natural night. It was so dark that at last by conjecture rather +than the testimony of their senses they knew that day had broken. A +hurried mass was said. Then, as the noise in the town above them +began to diminish, and a confused clamour from the sea-shore +continually increased, their suspense became unendurable. They +mounted their horses, and descended to the port—to see and +perish. A fearful spectacle awaited them. The ships in the harbour +had broken their moorings, and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg256" id="pg256">256</a></span> were crashing helplessly +together. The strand was strewn with mutilated corpses. The +breakwaters were submerged, and the sea seemed gaining momently +upon the solid land. A thousand watery mountains surged up into the +sky between the shore and Capri; and these massive billows were not +black or purple, but hoary with a livid foam. After describing some +picturesque episodes—such as the gathering of the knights of +Naples to watch the ruin of their city, the procession of court +ladies headed by the queen to implore the intercession of Mary, and +the wreck of a vessel freighted with 400 convicts bound for +Sicily—Petrarch concludes with a fervent prayer that he may +never have to tempt the sea, of whose fury he had seen so awful an +example.</p> + +<p>The capital on this occasion escaped the ruin prophesied. But +Amalfi was inundated; and what the waters then gained has never +been restored to man. This is why the once so famous city ranks now +upon a level with quiet little towns whose names are hardly heard +in history—with San Remo, or Rapallo, or Chiavari—and +yet it is still as full of life as a wasp's nest, especially upon +the molo, or raised piazza paved with bricks, in front of the +Albergo de' Cappuccini. The changes of scene upon this tiny square +are so frequent as to remind one of a theatre. Looking down from +the inn-balcony, between the glazy green pots gay with scarlet +amaryllis-bloom, we are inclined to fancy that the whole has been +prepared for our amusement. In the morning the corn for the +macaroni-flour, after being washed, is spread out on the bricks to +dry. In the afternoon the fishermen bring their nets for the same +purpose. In the evening the city magnates promenade and whisper. +Dark-eyed women, with orange or crimson kerchiefs for headgear, +cross and re-cross, bearing baskets on their shoulders. Great lazy +large-limbed fellows, girt with scarlet sashes and finished off +with dark blue <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg257" id= +"pg257">257</a></span> nightcaps (for a contrast to their +saffron-coloured shirts, white breeches, and sunburnt calves), +slouch about or sleep face downwards on the parapets. On either +side of this same molo stretches a miniature beach of sand and +pebble, covered with nets, which the fishermen are always mending, +and where the big boats lade or unlade, trimming for the sardine +fishery, or driving in to shore with a whirr of oars and a jabber +of discordant voices. As the land-wind freshens, you may watch them +set off one by one, like pigeons taking flight, till the sea is +flecked with twenty sail, all scudding in the same direction. The +torrent runs beneath the molo, and finds the sea beyond it; so that +here too are the washerwomen, chattering like sparrows; and +everywhere the naked boys, like brown sea-urchins, burrow in the +clean warm sand, or splash the shallow brine. If you like the fun, +you may get a score of them to dive together and scramble for +coppers in the deeper places, their lithe bodies gleaming wan +beneath the water in a maze of interlacing arms and legs.</p> + +<p>Over the whole busy scene rise the grey hills, soaring into +blueness of air-distance, turreted here and there with ruined +castles, capped with particoloured campanili and white convents, +and tufted through their whole height with the orange and the +emerald of the great tree-spurge, and with the live gold of the +blossoming broom. It is difficult to say when this picture is most +beautiful—whether in the early morning, when the boats are +coming back from their night-toil upon the sea, and along the +headlands in the fresh light lie swathes of fleecy mist, betokening +a still, hot day—or at noontide, when the houses on the hill +stand, tinted pink and yellow, shadowless like gems, and the great +caruba-trees above the tangles of vines and figs are blots upon the +steady glare—or at sunset, when violet and rose, reflected +from the eastern sky, make all these terraces and peaks translucent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg258" id="pg258">258</a></span> +with a wondrous glow. The best of all, perhaps, is night, with a +full moon hanging high overhead. Who shall describe the silhouettes +of boats upon the shore or sleeping on the misty sea? On the +horizon lies a dusky film of brownish golden haze, between the moon +and the glimmering water; and here and there a lamp or candle burns +with a deep red. Then is the time to take a boat and row upon the +bay, or better, to swim out into the waves and trouble the +reflections from the steady stars. The mountains, clear and calm, +with light-irradiated chasms and hard shadows cast upon the rock, +soar up above a city built of alabaster, or sea-foam, or summer +clouds. The whole is white and wonderful: no similes suggest an +analogue for the lustre, solid and transparent, of Amalfi nestling +in moonlight between the grey-blue sea and lucid hills. Stars stand +on all the peaks, and twinkle, or keep gliding, as the boat moves, +down the craggy sides. Stars are mirrored on the marble of the sea, +until one knows not whether the oar has struck sparks from a star +image or has scattered diamonds of phosphorescent brine.</p> + +<p>All this reads like a rhapsody; but indeed it is difficult not +to be rhapsodical when a May night of Amalfi is in the memory, with +the echo of rich baritone voices chanting Neapolitan songs to a +mandoline. It is fashionable to complain that these Italian airs +are opera-tunes; but this is only another way of saying that the +Italian opera is the genuine outgrowth of national melody, and that +Weber was not the first, as some German critics have supposed, to +string together Volkslieder for the stage. Northerners, who have +never seen or felt the beauty of the South, talk sad nonsense about +the superiority of German over Italian music. It is true that much +Italian music is out of place in Northern Europe, where we seem to +need more travail of the intellect in art. But the Italians are +rightly satisfied with such facile melody <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg259" id="pg259">259</a></span> and such simple rhythms as +harmonise with sea and sky and boon earth sensuously beautiful. +'Perchè pensa? Pensando s' invecchia,' expresses the same +habit of mind as another celebrated saying, 'La musica è il +lamento dell' amore o la preghiera agli Dei.' Whatever may be the +value of Italian music, it is in concord with such a scene as +Amalfi by moon-light; and he who does not appreciate this no less +than some more artificial combination of sights and sounds in +Wagner's theatre at Bayreuth, has scarcely learned the first lesson +in the lore of beauty.</p> + +<p>There is enough and to spare for all tastes at Amalfi. The +student of architecture may spend hours in the Cathedral, pondering +over its high-built western front, and wondering whether there is +more of Moorish or of Gothic in its delicate arcades. The painter +may transfer its campanile, glittering like dragon's scales, to his +canvas. The lover of the picturesque will wander through its aisle +at mass-time, watching the sunlight play upon those upturned +Southern faces with their ardent eyes; and happy is he who sees +young men and maidens on Whit Sunday crowding round the chancel +rails, to catch the marigolds and gillyflowers scattered from +baskets which the priest has blessed. Is this a symbol of the Holy +Spirit's gifts, or is it some quaint relic of Pagan +<i>sparsiones</i>? This question, with the memory of Pompeian +<i>graffiti</i> in our mind, may well suggest itself in Southern +Italy, where old and new faiths are so singularly blended. Then +there is Ravello on the hills above. The path winds upward between +stone walls tufted with maidenhair; and ever nearer grow the +mountains, and the sea-line soars into the sky. An Englishman has +made his home here in a ruined Moorish villa, with cool colonnaded +cloisters and rose-embowered terraces, lending far prospect over +rocky hills and olive-girdled villages to Pæstum's plain. The +churches of Ravello have <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg260" id= +"pg260">260</a></span> rare mosaics, and bronze doors, and marble +pulpits, older perhaps than those of Tuscany, which tempt the +archæologist to ask if Nicholas the Pisan learned his secret +here. But who cares to be a sober antiquary at Amalfi? Far +pleasanter is it to climb the staircase to the Capuchins, and +linger in those caverns of the living rock, and pluck the lemons +hanging by the mossy walls; or to row from cove to cove along the +shore, watching the fishes swimming in the deeps beneath, and the +medusas spreading their filmy bells; to land upon smooth slabs of +rock, where corallines wave to and fro; or to rest on +samphire-tufted ledges, when the shadows slant beneath the +westering sun.</p> + +<p>There is no point in all this landscape which does not make a +picture. Painters might even complain that the pictures are too +easy and the poetry too facile, just as the musicians find the +melodies of this fair land too simple. No effect, carefully sought +and strenuously seized, could enhance the mere beauty of Amalfi +bathed in sunlight. You have only on some average summer day to sit +down and paint the scene. Little scope is afforded for suggestions +of far-away weird thoughts, or for elaborately studied motives. +Daubigny and Corot are as alien here as Blake or Dürer.</p> + +<p>What is wanted, and what no modern artist can successfully +recapture from the wasteful past, is the mythopoeic sense—the +apprehension of primeval powers akin to man, growing into shape and +substance on the borderland between the world and the keen human +sympathies it stirs in us. Greek mythology was the proper form of +art for scenery like this. It gave the final touch to all its +beauties, and added to its sensuous charm an inbreathed spiritual +life. No exercise of the poetic faculty, far less that metaphysical +mood of the reflective consciousness which 'leads from nature up to +nature's God,' can now supply this need. From sea and earth <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg261" id="pg261">261</a></span> and sky, +in those creative ages when the world was young, there leaned to +greet the men whose fancy made them, forms imagined and yet +real—human, divine—the archetypes and everlasting +patterns of man's deepest sense of what is wonderful in nature. +Feeling them there, for ever there, inalienable, ready to start +forth and greet successive generations—as the Hamadryad +greeted Rhaicos from his father's oak—those mythopoets called +them by immortal names. All their pent-up longings, all passions +that consume, all aspirations that inflame—the desire for the +impossible, which is disease, the day-dreams and visions of the +night, which are spontaneous poems—were thus transferred to +nature. And nature, responsive to the soul that loves her, gave +them back transfigured and translated into radiant beings of like +substance with mankind. It was thus, we feel, upon these southern +shores that the gods of Greece came into being. The statues in the +temples were the true fine flower of all this beauty, the +culmination of the poetry which it evoked in hearts that feel and +brains that think.</p> + +<p>In Italy, far more than in any other part of Europe, the life of +the present is imposed upon the strata of successive past lives. +Greek, Latin, Moorish, and mediæval civilisations have +arisen, flourished, and decayed on nearly the same soil; and it is +common enough to find one city, which may have perished twenty +centuries ago, neighbour to another that enjoyed its brief +prosperity in the middle of our era. There is not, for example, the +least sign of either Greek or Roman at Amalfi. Whatever may have +been the glories of the republic in the early middle ages, they had +no relation to the classic past. Yet a few miles off along the bay +rise the ancient Greek temples of Pæstum, from a +desert—with no trace of any intervening occupants. Poseidonia +was founded in the sixth century before Christ, by colonists from +Sybaris. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg262" id= +"pg262">262</a></span> Three centuries later the Hellenic element +in this settlement, which must already have become a town of no +little importance, was submerged by a deluge of recurrent +barbarism. Under the Roman rule it changed its name to +Pæstum, and was prosperous. The Saracens destroyed it in the +ninth century of our era; and Robert Guiscard carried some of the +materials of its buildings to adorn his new town of Salerno. Since +then the ancient site has been abandoned to malaria and solitude. +The very existence of Pæstum was unknown, except to wandering +herdsmen and fishers coasting near its ruined colonnades, until the +end of the last century. Yet, strange to relate, after all these +revolutions, and in the midst of this total desolation, the only +relics of the antique city are three Greek temples, those very +temples where the Hellenes, barbarised by their Lucanian +neighbours, met to mourn for their lost liberty. It is almost +impossible to trace more than the mere circuit of the walls of +Poseidonia. Its port, if port it had in Roman days, has +disappeared. Its theatre is only just discernible. Still not a +column of the great hypæthral temple, built by the Sybarite +colonists two thousand and five hundred years ago, to be a house +for Zeus or for Poseidon, has been injured. The accidents that +erased far greater cities, like Syracuse, from the surface of the +earth—pillage, earthquake, the fury of fanatics, the slow +decay of perishable stone, or the lust of palace builders in the +middle ages—have spared those three houses of the gods, over +whom, in the days of Alexander, the funeral hymn was chanted by the +enslaved Hellenes.</p> + +<p>'We do the same,' said Aristoxenus in his Convivial +Miscellanies, 'as the men of Poseidonia, who dwell on the +Tyrrhenian Gulf. It befell them, having been at first true +Hellenes, to be utterly barbarised, changing to Tyrrhenes or +Romans, and altering their language, together with their <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg263" id="pg263">263</a></span> other +customs. Yet they still observe one Hellenic festival, when they +meet together and call to remembrance their old names and bygone +institutions; and having lamented one to the other, and shed bitter +tears, they afterwards depart to their own homes. Even thus a few +of us also, now that our theatres have been barbarised, and this +art of music has gone to ruin and vulgarity, meet together and +remember what once music was.'<a name="FNanchor_1_53" id= +"FNanchor_1_53" /><a href="#Footnote_1_53" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_53" id="Footnote_1_53" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_53"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +<i>Athenæus</i>, xiv. 632.</p> +</div> + +<p>This passage has a strange pathos, considering how it was +penned, and how it has come down to us, tossed by the dark +indifferent stream of time. The Aristoxenus who wrote it was a +pupil of the Peripatetic School, born at Tarentum, and therefore +familiar with the vicissitudes of Magna Græcia. The study of +music was his chief preoccupation; and he used this episode in the +agony of an enslaved Greek city, to point his own conservative +disgust for innovations in an art of which we have no knowledge +left. The works of Aristoxenus have perished, and the fragment I +have quoted is embedded in the gossip of Egyptian Athenæus. +In this careless fashion has been opened for us, as it were, a +little window on a grief now buried in the oblivion of a hundred +generations. After reading his words one May morning, beneath the +pediment of Pæstum's noblest ruin, I could not refrain from +thinking that if the spirits of those captive Hellenes were to +revisit their old habitations, they would change their note of +wailing into a thin ghostly pæan, when they found that Romans +and Lucanians had passed away, that Christians and Saracens had +left alike no trace behind, while the houses of their own +αντήλιοι +θεοι—dawn-facing +deities—were still abiding in the pride of immemorial +strength. Who knows whether buffalo-driver or bandit may not ere +now have seen processions of these Poseidonian phantoms, bearing +laurels and chaunting hymns on <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg264" id="pg264">264</a></span> the spot where once they fell +each on the other's neck to weep? Gathering his cloak around him +and cowering closer to his fire of sticks, the night-watcher in +those empty colonnades may have mistaken the Hellenic outlines of +his shadowy visitants for fevered dreams, and the melody of their +evanished music for the whistling of night winds or the cry of +owls. So abandoned is Pæstum in its solitude that we know not +even what legends may have sprung up round those relics of a +mightier age.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">The shrine is ruined now; and far away</div> + +<div class="i4">To east and west stretch olive groves, whose +shade</div> + +<div class="i4">Even at the height of summer noon is grey.</div> + +<div class="i4"> </div> + +<div class="i4">Asphodels sprout upon the plinth decayed</div> + +<div class="i4">Of these low columns, and the snake hath +found</div> + +<div class="i4">Her haunt 'neath altar-steps with weeds +o'erlaid.</div> + +<div class="i4"> </div> + +<div class="i4">Yet this was once a hero's temple, crowned</div> + +<div class="i4">With myrtle-boughs by lovers, and with palm</div> + +<div class="i4">By wrestlers, resonant with sweetest sound</div> + +<div class="i4"> </div> + +<div class="i4">Of flute and fife in summer evening's calm,</div> + +<div class="i4">And odorous with incense all the year,</div> + +<div class="i4">With nard and spice, and galbanum and balm.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>These lines sufficiently express the sense of desolation felt at +Pæstum, except that the scenery is more solemn and mournful, +and the temples are too august to be the shrine of any simple hero. +There are no olives. The sea plunges on its sandy shore within the +space of half a mile to westward. Far and wide on either hand +stretch dreary fever-stricken marshes. The plain is bounded to the +north, and east, and south, with mountains, purple, snow-peaked, +serrated, and grandly broken like the hills of Greece. Driving over +this vast level where the Silarus stagnates, the monotony of the +landscape is broken now and then by a group of buffaloes <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg265" id="pg265">265</a></span> standing +up to their dewlaps in reeds, by peasants on horseback, with goads +in their hands, and muskets slung athwart their backs, or by +patrols of Italian soldiers crossing and re-crossing on the +brigand-haunted roads. Certain portions have been reclaimed from +the swamp, and here may be seen white oxen in herds of fifty +grazing; or gangs of women at field-labour, with a man to oversee +them, cracking a long hunting-whip; or the mares and foals of a +famous stud-farm browsing under spreading pines. There are no +villages, and the few farmhouses are so widely scattered as to make +us wonder where the herdsmen and field-workers, scanty as they are, +can possibly be lodged.</p> + +<p>At last the three great temples come in sight. The rich orange +of the central building contrasts with the paler yellow of its two +companions, while the glowing colour of all three is splendidly +relieved against green vegetation and blue mountain-flanks. Their +material is travertine—a calcareous stone formed by the +deposit of petrifying waters, which contains fragments of reeds, +spiral shells, and other substances, embedded in the porous +limestone. In the flourishing period of old Poseidonia these +travertine columns were coated with stucco, worked to a smooth +surface, and brilliantly tinted to harmonise with the gay costumes +of a Greek festival. Even now this coating of fine sand, mingled +with slaked lime and water, can be seen in patches on the huge +blocks of the masonry. Thus treated, the travertine lacked little +of the radiance of marble, for it must be remembered that the +Greeks painted even the Pentelic cornice of the Parthenon with red +and blue. Nor can we doubt that the general effect of brightness +suited the glad and genial conditions of Greek life.</p> + +<p>All the surroundings are altered now, and the lover of the +picturesque may be truly thankful that the hand of time, by <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg266" id="pg266">266</a></span> stripping +the buildings of this stucco, without impairing their proportions, +has substituted a new harmony of tone between the native stone and +the surrounding landscape, no less sympathetic to the present +solitude than the old symphony of colours was to the animated +circumstances of a populous Greek city. In this way those critics +who defend the polychrome decorations of the classic architects, +and those who contend that they cannot imagine any alteration from +the present toning of Greek temples for the better, are both +right.</p> + +<p>In point of colour the Pæstum ruins are very similar to +those of Girgenti; but owing to their position on a level plain, in +front of a scarcely indented sea-shore, we lack the irregularity +which adds so much charm to the row of temples on their broken +cliff in the old town of Agrigentum. In like manner the celebrated +<i>asymmetreia</i> of the buildings of the Athenian Acropolis, +which causes so much variety of light and shade upon the +temple-fronts, and offers so many novel points of view when they +are seen in combination, seems to have been due originally to the +exigencies of the ground. At Pæstum, in planning out the +city, there can have been no utilitarian reasons for placing the +temples at odd angles, either to each other or the shore. Therefore +we see them now almost exactly in line and parallel, though at +unequal distances. If something of picturesque effect is thus lost +at Pæstum through the flatness of the ground, something of +impressive grandeur on the other hand is gained by the very +regularity with which those phalanxes of massive Doric columns are +drawn up to face the sea.</p> + +<p>Poseidonia, as the name betokens, was dedicated to the god of +the sea; and the coins of the city are stamped with his effigy +bearing a trident, and with his sacred animal, the bull. It has +therefore been conjectured that the central of the three +temples—which was hypæthral and had two entrances, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg267" id="pg267">267</a></span> +east and west—belonged to Poseidon; and there is something +fine in the notion of the god being thus able to pass to and fro +from his cella through those sunny peristyles, down to his chariot, +yoked with sea-horses, in the brine. Yet hypæthral temples +were generally consecrated to Zeus, and it is therefore probable +that the traditional name of this vast edifice is wrong. The names +of the two other temples, <i>Tempio di Cerere</i> and +<i>Basilica</i>, are wholly unsupported by any proof or +probability. The second is almost certainly founded on a mistake; +and if we assign the largest of the three shrines to Zeus, one or +other of the lesser belonged most likely to Poseidon.</p> + +<p>The style of the temples is severe and primitive. In general +effect their Doric architecture is far sterner than that adapted by +Ictinus to the Parthenon. The entablature seems somewhat +disproportioned to the columns and the pediment; and, owing to this +cause, there is a general effect of heaviness. The columns, again, +are thick-set; nor is the effect of solidity removed by their +gradual narrowing from the base upwards. The pillars of the +<i>Neptune</i> are narrowed in a straight line; those of the +<i>Basilica</i> and <i>Ceres</i> by a gentle curve. Study of these +buildings, so sublime in their massiveness, so noble in the +parsimony of their decoration, so dignified in their employment of +the simplest means for the attainment of an indestructible effect +of harmony, heightens our admiration for the Attic genius which +found in this grand manner of the elder Doric architects resources +as yet undeveloped; creating, by slight and subtle alterations of +outline, proportion, and rhythm of parts, what may fairly be +classed as a style unique, because exemplified in only one +transcendent building.</p> + +<p>It is difficult not to return again and again to the beauty of +colouring at Pæstum. Lying basking in the sun upon a flat +slab of stone, and gazing eastward, we overlook a foreground of +dappled light and shadow, across which the lizards run— <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg268" id="pg268">268</a></span> quick +streaks of living emerald—making the bunches of yellow rue +and little white serpyllum in the fissures of the masonry nod as +they hurry past. Then come two stationary columns, built, it seems, +of solid gold, where the sunbeams strike along their russet +surface. Between them lies the landscape, a medley first of +brakefern and asphodel and feathering acanthus and blue spikes of +bugloss; then a white farm in the middle distance, roofed with the +reddest tiles and sheltered by a velvety umbrella pine. Beyond and +above the farm, a glimpse of mountains purple almost to indigo with +cloud shadows, and flecked with snow. Still higher—but for +this we have to raise our head a little—the free heavens +enclosed within the frame-work of the tawny travertine, across +which sail hawks and flutter jackdaws, sharply cut against the +solid sky. Down from the architrave, to make the vignette perfect, +hang tufts of crimson snapdragons. Each opening in the peristyle +gives a fresh picture.</p> + +<p>The temples are overgrown with snapdragons and mallows, yellow +asters and lilac gillyflowers, white allium and wild fig. When a +breeze passes, the whole of this many-coloured tapestry waves +gently to and fro. The fields around are flowery enough; but where +are the roses? I suppose no one who has read his Virgil at school, +crosses the plain from Salerno to Pæstum without those words +of the 'Georgics' ringing in his ears: <i>biferique rosaria +Pæsti</i>. They have that wonderful Virgilian charm which, by +a touch, transforms mere daily sights and sounds, and adds poetic +mystery to common things. The poets of ancient Rome seem to have +felt the magic of this phrase; for Ovid has imitated the line in +his 'Metamorphoses,' tamely substituting <i>tepidi</i> for the +suggestive <i>biferi</i>, while again in his 'Elegies' he uses the +same termination with <i>odorati</i> for his epithet. Martial sings +of <i>Pæstanæ rosæ</i> and <i>Pæstani +gloria ruris</i>. Even Ausonius, <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg269" id="pg269">269</a></span> at the very end of Latin +literature, draws from the rosaries of Pæstum a pretty +picture of beauty doomed to premature decline:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i7">Vidi Pæstano gaudere rosaria cultu</div> + +<div class="i8">Exoriente novo roscida Lucifero.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="blockquotwide"> +<p>'I have watched the rose-beds that luxuriate on Pæstum's +well-tilled soil, all dewy in the young light of the rising +dawn-star.'</p> +</div> + +<p>What a place indeed was this for a rose-garden, spreading far +and wide along the fertile plain, with its deep loam reclaimed from +swamps and irrigated by the passing of perpetual streams! But where +are the roses now? As well ask, <i>où sont les neiges +d'antan?</i></p> + +<p>We left Amalfi for Capri in the freshness of an early morning at +the end of May. As we stepped into our six-oared boat the sun rose +above the horizon, flooding the sea with gold and flashing on the +terraces above Amalfi. High up along the mountains hung pearly and +empurpled mists, set like resting-places between a world too +beautiful and heaven too far for mortal feet. Not a breath of any +wind was stirring. The water heaved with a scarcely perceptible +swell, and the vapours lifted gradually as the sun's rays grew in +power. Here the hills descend abruptly on the sea, ending in cliffs +where light reflected from the water dances. Huge caverns open in +the limestone; on their edges hang stalactites like beards, and the +sea within sleeps dark as night. For some of these caves the +maidenhair fern makes a shadowy curtain; and all of them might be +the home of Proteus, or of Calypso, by whose side her mortal lover +passed his nights in vain home-sickness:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">εν σπέσσι +γλαφυροισι +παρ' ουκ +εθέλων +εθελούση.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This is a truly Odyssean journey. Soon the islands of the Sirens +come in sight,—bare bluffs of rock, shaped like galleys <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg270" id="pg270">270</a></span> taking +flight for the broad sea. As we row past in this ambrosial weather, +the oarsmen keeping time and ploughing furrows in the fruitless +fields of Nereus, it is not difficult to hear the siren +voices—for earth and heaven and sea make melodies far above +mortal singing. The water round the Galli—so the islands are +now called, as antiquaries tell us, from an ancient fortress named +Guallo—is very deep, and not a sign of habitation is to be +seen upon them. In bygone ages they were used as prisons; and many +doges of Amalfi languished their lives away upon those shadeless +stones, watching the sea around them blaze like a burnished shield +at noon, and the peaks of Capri deepen into purple when the west +was glowing after sunset with the rose and daffodil of Southern +twilight.</p> + +<p>The end of the Sorrentine promontory, Point Campanella, is +absolutely barren—grey limestone, with the scantiest +over-growth of rosemary and myrtle. A more desolate spot can hardly +be imagined. But now the morning breeze springs up behind; sails +are hoisted, and the boatmen ship their oars. Under the albatross +wings of our lateen sails we scud across the freshening waves. The +precipice of Capri soars against the sky, and the Bay of Naples +expands before us with those sweeping curves and azure amplitude +that all the poets of the world have sung. Even thus the mariners +of ancient Hellas rounded this headland when the world was young. +Rightly they named yon rising ground, beneath Vesuvius, +Posilippo—rest from grief. Even now, after all those +centuries of toil, though the mild mountain has been turned into a +mouth of murderous fire, though Roman emperors and Spanish despots +have done their worst to mar what nature made so perfect, we may +here lay down the burden of our cares, gaining tranquillity by no +mysterious lustral rites, no penitential prayers or offerings of +holocausts, but by the influence of beauty in <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg271" id="pg271">271</a></span> the earth and +air, and by sympathy with a people unspoiled in their healthful +life of labour alternating with simple joy.</p> + +<p>The last hour of the voyage was beguiled by stories of our +boatmen, some of whom had seen service on distant seas, while +others could tell of risks on shore and love adventures. They +showed us how the tunny-nets were set, and described the solitary +life of the tunny-watchers, in their open boats, waiting to spear +the monsters of the deep entangled in the chambers made for them +beneath the waves. How much of Æschylean imagery, I +reflected, is drawn from this old fisher's art—the toils of +Clytemnestra and the tragedy of Psyttaleia rising to my mind. One +of the crew had his little son with him, a child of six years old; +and when the boy was restless, his father spoke of Barbarossa and +Timberio (<i>sic</i>) to keep him quiet; for the memory of the +Moorish pirate and the mighty emperor is still alive here. The +people of Capri are as familiar with Tiberius as the Bretons with +King Arthur; and the hoof-mark of illustrious crime is stamped upon +the island.</p> + +<p>Capri offers another example of the versatility of Southern +Italy. If Amalfi brings back to us the naval and commercial +prosperity of the early middle ages; if Pæstuni remains a +monument of the oldest Hellenic civilisation; Capri, at a few +miles' distance, is dedicated to the Roman emperor who made it his +favourite residence, when, life-weary with the world and all its +shows, he turned these many peaks and slumbering caves into a +summer palace for the nursing of his brain-sick phantasy. Already +on landing, we are led to remember that from this shore was loosed +the galley bearing that great letter—<i>verbosa et grandis +epistola</i>—which undid Sejanus and shook Rome. Riding to +Ana-Capri and the Salto di Tiberio, exploring the remains of his +favourite twelve villas, and gliding over the smooth waters paved +with the white marbles of his baths, we are for ever attended by +the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg272" id="pg272">272</a></span> +same forbidding spectre. Here, perchance, were the <i>sedes +arcanarum libidinum</i> whereof Suetonius speaks; the Spintrian +medals, found in these recesses, still bear witness that the +biographer trusted no mere fables for the picture he has drawn. +Here, too, below the Villa Jovis, gazing 700 feet sheer down into +the waves, we tread the very parapet whence fell the victims of +that maniac lust for blood. 'After long and exquisite torments,' +says the Roman writer, 'he ordered condemned prisoners to be cast +into the sea before his eyes; marines were stationed near to pound +the fallen corpses with poles and oars, lest haply breath should +linger in their limbs.' The Neapolitan Museum contains a little +basrelief representing Tiberius, with the well-known features of +the Claudian house, seated astride upon a donkey, with a girl +before him. A slave is leading the beast and its burden to a +terminal statue under an olive-tree. This curious relic, discovered +some while since at Capri, haunted my fancy as I climbed the +olive-planted slopes to his high villa on the Arx Tiberii. It is +some relief, amid so much that is tragic in the associations of +this place, to have the horrible Tiberius burlesqued and brought +into donkey-riding relation with the tourist of to-day. And what an +ironical revenge of time it is that his famous Salto should be +turned into a restaurant, where the girls dance tarantella for a +few coppers; that a toothless hermit should occupy a cell upon the +very summit of his Villa Jovis; and that the Englishwoman's +comfortable hotel should be called <i>Timberio</i> by the natives! +A spiritualist might well believe that the emperor's ghost was +forced to haunt the island, and to expiate his old atrocities by +gazing on these modern vulgarisms.</p> + +<p>Few problems suggested by history are more darkly fascinating +than the madness of despots; and of this madness, whether inherent +in their blood or encouraged by the <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg273" id="pg273">273</a></span> circumstance of absolute +autocracy, the emperors of the Claudian and Julian houses furnish +the most memorable instance.<a name="FNanchor_1_54" id= +"FNanchor_1_54" /><a href="#Footnote_1_54" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> It is this that renders Tiberius ever present to +our memory at Capri. Nor will the student of Suetonius forget his +even more memorable grand-nephew Caligula. The following passage is +an episode from the biography of that imperial maniac, whose +portrait in green basalt, with the strain of dire mental tension on +the forehead, is still so beautiful that we are able at this +distance of time to pity more than loathe him. 'Above all, he was +tormented with nervous irritation, by sleeplessness; for he enjoyed +not more than three hours of nocturnal repose, nor even these in +pure untroubled rest, but agitated by phantasmata of portentous +augury; as, for example, upon one occasion, among other spectral +visions, he fancied that he saw the sea, under some definite +impersonation, conversing with himself. Hence it was, and from this +incapacity of sleeping, and from weariness of lying awake, that he +had fallen into habits of ranging all night long through the +palace, sometimes throwing himself on a couch, sometimes wandering +along the vast corridors, watching for the earliest dawn, and +anxiously wishing its approach.' Those corridors, or loggie, where +Caligula spent his wakeful hours, opened perchance upon this Bay of +Naples, if not upon the sea-waves of his favourite Porto d'Anzio; +for we know that one of his great follies was a palace built above +the sea on piles at Baiæ; and where else could +<i>Pelagus</i>, with his cold azure eyes and briny locks, have more +appropriately terrified his sleep with prophecy conveyed in dreams? +The very nature of this vision, selected for such special comment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg274" id="pg274">274</a></span> by +Suetonius as to show that it had troubled Caligula profoundly, +proves the fantastic nature of the man, and justifies the +hypothesis of insanity.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_54" id="Footnote_1_54" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_54"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> De +Quincey, in his essay on <i>The Cæsars</i>, has worked out +this subject with such artistic vividness that no more need be +said. From his pages I have quoted the paraphrastic version of +Suetonius that follows.</p> +</div> + +<p>But it is time to shake off the burden of the past. Only +students, carrying superfluity of culture in their knapsacks, will +ponder over the imperial lunatics who made Capri and Baiæ +fashionable in the days of ancient Rome. Neither Tiberius nor +Caligula, nor yet Ferdinand of Aragon or Bomba for that matter, has +been able to leave trace of vice or scar of crime on nature in this +Eden. A row round the island, or a supper-party in the loggia above +the sea at sunset-time, is no less charming now, in spite of Roman +or Spanish memories, than when the world was young.</p> + +<p>Sea-mists are frequent in the early summer mornings, swathing +the cliffs of Capri in impenetrable wool and brooding on the +perfectly smooth water till the day-wind rises. Then they disappear +like magic, rolling in smoke-wreaths from the surface of the sea, +condensing into clouds and climbing the hillsides like Oceanides in +quest of Prometheus, or taking their station on the watch-towers of +the world, as in the chorus of the <i>Nephelai</i>. Such a morning +may be chosen for the <i>giro</i> of the island. The blue grotto +loses nothing of its beauty, but rather gains by contrast, when +passing from dense fog you find yourself transported to a world of +wavering subaqueous sheen. It is only through the opening of the +very topmost arch that a boat can glide into this cavern; the arch +itself spreads downward through the water, so that all the light is +transmitted from beneath and coloured by the sea. The grotto is +domed in many chambers; and the water is so clear that you can see +the bottom, silvery, with black-finned fishes diapered upon the +blue white sand. The flesh of a diver in this water showed like the +faces of children playing at snapdragon; all around him the spray +leapt up with <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg275" id= +"pg275">275</a></span> living fire; and when the oars struck the +surface, it was as though a phosphorescent sea had been smitten, +and the drops ran from the blades in blue pearls. I have only once +seen anything (outside the magic-world of a pantomime) to equal +these effects of blue and silver; and that was when I made my way +into an ice-cave in the Great Aletsch glacier—not an +artificial gallery such as they cut at Grindelwald, but a natural +cavern, arched, hollowed into fanciful recesses, and hung with +stalactites of pendent ice. The difference between the +glacier-cavern and the sea-grotto was that in the former all the +light was transmitted through transparent sides, so that the whole +was one uniform azure, except in rare places where little chinks +opened upwards to the air, and the light of day came glancing with +a roseate flush. In the latter the light sent from beneath through +the water played upon a roof of rock; reflections intermingled with +translucence; and a greater variety of light and shadow compensated +the lack of that strange sense of being shut within a solid +gem.</p> + +<p>Numberless are the caves at Capri. The so-called green grotto +has the beauty of moss-agate in its liquid floor; the red grotto +shows a warmer chord of colour; and where there is no other charm +to notice, endless beauty may be found in the play of sunlight upon +roofs of limestone, tinted with yellow, orange, and pale pink, +mossed over, hung with fern, and catching tones of blue or green +from the still deeps beneath.</p> + +<p>Sheets of water, wherever found, are the most subtle heighteners +of colour. To those who are familiar with Venetian or Mantuan +sunsets, who have seen the flocks of flamingoes reflected on the +lagoons of Tunis, or who have watched stormy red flakes tossed from +crest to crest of great Atlantic waves on our own coasts, this need +hardly be said. Yet I cannot leave this beauty of the sea at Capri +without <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg276" id= +"pg276">276</a></span> touching on a melodrama of light and colour +I once saw at Castellammare. It was a festa night, when the people +sent up rockets and fireworks of every hue from the +harbour-breakwater. The surf rolled shoreward like a bath of molten +metals, all confused of blue, and red, and green, and +gold—dying dolphin tints that burned strangely beneath the +purple skies and tranquil stars. Boats at sea hung out their +crimson cressets, flickering in long lines on the bay; and larger +craft moved slowly with rows of lamps defining their curves; while +the full moon shed over all her 'vitreous pour, just tinged with +blue.' To some tastes this mingling of natural and artificial +effects would seem unworthy of sober notice; but I confess to +having enjoyed it with childish eagerness like music never to be +forgotten.</p> + +<p>After a day upon the water it is pleasant to rest at sunset in +the loggia above the sea. The Bay of Naples stretches far and wide +in front, beautiful by reason chiefly of the long fine line +descending from Vesuvius, dipping almost to a level and then +gliding up to join the highlands of the north. Now sun and moon +begin to mingle: waning and waxing splendours. The cliffs above our +heads are still blushing a deep flame-colour, like the heart of +some tea-rose; when lo, the touch of the huntress is laid upon +those eastern pinnacles, and the horizon glimmers with her rising. +Was it on such a night that Ferdinand of Aragon fled from his +capital before the French, with eyes turned ever to the land he +loved, chanting, as he leaned from his galley's stern, that +melancholy psalm—'Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman +waketh but in vain'—and seeing Naples dwindle to a white blot +on the purple shore?</p> + +<p>Our journey takes the opposite direction. Farewell to Capri, +welcome to Sorrento! The roads are sweet with scent of acacia and +orange flowers. When you walk in a garden at <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg277" id="pg277">277</a></span> night, the +white specks beneath your feet are fallen petals of lemon blossoms. +Over the walls hang cataracts of roses, honey-pale clusters of the +Banksia rose, and pink bushes of the China rose, growing as we +never see them grow with us. The grey rocks wave with +gladiolus—feathers of crimson, set amid tufts of rosemary, +and myrtle, and tree-spurge. In the clefts of the sandstone, and +behind the orchard walls, sleeps a dark green night of foliage, in +the midst of which gleam globed oranges, and lemons dropping like +great pearls of palest amber dew. It is difficult to believe that +the lemons have not grown into length by their own weight, as +though mere hanging on the bough prevented them from being +round—so waxen are they. Overhead soar stone-pines—a +roof of sombre green, a lattice-work of strong red branches, +through which the moon peers wonderfully. One part of this +marvellous <i>piano</i> is bare rock tufted with keen-scented +herbs, and sparsely grown with locust-trees and olives. Another +waves from sea to summit with beech-copses and oak-woods, as +verdant as the most abundant English valley. Another region turns +its hoary raiment of olive-gardens to the sun and sea, or +flourishes with fig and vine. Everywhere, the houses of men are +dazzling white, perched on natural coigns of vantage, clustered on +the brink of brown cliffs, nestling under mountain eaves, or piled +up from the sea-beach in ascending tiers, until the broad knees of +the hills are reached, and great Pan, the genius of solitude in +nature, takes unto himself a region yet untenanted by man. The +occupations of the sea and land are blent together on this shore; +and the people are both blithe and gentle. It is true that their +passions are upon the surface, and that the knife is ready to their +hand. But the combination of fierceness and softness in them has an +infinite charm when one has learned by observation that their lives +are laborious and frugal, and that <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg278" id="pg278">278</a></span> their honesty is hardly less than +their vigour. Happy indeed are they—so happy that, but for +crimes accumulated through successive generations by bad governors, +and but for superstitions cankering the soul within, they might +deserve what Shelley wrote of his imagined island in +'Epipsychidion.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg279" id= +"pg279">279</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="ETNA" id="ETNA" /><i>ETNA</i></h3> + +<p>The eruptions of Etna have blackened the whole land for miles in +every direction. That is the first observation forced upon one in +the neighbourhood of Catania, or Giarre, or Bronte. From whatever +point of view you look at Etna, it is always a regular pyramid, +with long and gradually sloping sides, broken here and there by the +excrescence of minor craters and dotted over with villages; the +summit crowned with snow, divided into peak and cone, girdled with +clouds, and capped with smoke, that shifts shape as the wind veers, +dominates a blue-black monstrous mass of outpoured lava. From the +top of Monte Rosso, a subordinate volcano which broke into eruption +in 1669, you can trace the fountain from which 'the unapproachable +river of purest fire,' that nearly destroyed Catania, issued. You +see it still, bubbling up like a frozen geyser from the flank of +the mountain, whence the sooty torrent spreads, or rather sprawls, +with jagged edges to the sea. The plain of Catania lies at your +feet, threaded by the Simeto, bounded by the promontory of Syracuse +and the mountains of Castro Giovanni. This huge amorphous blot upon +the landscape may be compared to an ink-stain on a variegated +tablecloth, or to the coal districts marked upon a geological +atlas, or to the heathen in a missionary map—the green and +red and grey colours standing for Christians and Mahommedans and +Jews of different shades and qualities. The lava, where it has been +cultivated, is reduced to fertile <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg280" id="pg280">280</a></span> sand, in which vines and +fig-trees are planted—their tender green foliage contrasting +strangely with the sinister soil that makes them flourish. All the +roads are black as jet, like paths leading to coal-pits, and the +country-folk on mule-back plodding along them look like Arabs on an +infernal Sahara. The very lizards which haunt the rocks are swart +and smutty. Yet the flora of the district is luxuriant. The gardens +round Catania, nestling into cracks and ridges of the stiffened +flood, are marvellously brilliant with spurge and fennel and +valerian. It is impossible to form a true conception of +flower-brightness till one has seen these golden and crimson tints +upon their ground of ebony, or to realise the blueness of the +Mediterranean except in contrast with the lava where it breaks into +the sea. Copses of frail oak and ash, undergrown with ferns of +every sort; cactus-hedges, orange-trees grafted with lemons and +laden with both fruits; olives of scarce two centuries' growth, and +fig-trees knobbed with their sweet produce, overrun the sombre +soil, and spread their boughs against the deep blue sea and the +translucent amethyst of the Calabrian mountains. Underfoot, a +convolvulus with large white blossoms, binding dingy stone to +stone, might be compared to a rope of Desdemona's pearls upon the +neck of Othello.</p> + +<p>The villages are perhaps the most curious feature of this +scenery. Their houses, rarely more than one story high, are walled, +paved, and often roofed with the inflexible material which once was +ruinous fire, and is now the servant of the men it threatened to +destroy. The churches are such as might be raised in Hades to +implacable Proserpine, such as one might dream of in a vision of +the world turned into hell, such as Baudelaire in his fiction of a +metallic landscape might have imagined under the influence of +hasheesh. Their flights of steps are built of sharply cut black +lava blocks no <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg281" id= +"pg281">281</a></span> feet can wear. Their door-jambs and columns +and pediments and carved work are wrought and sculptured of the +same gloomy masonry. How forbidding are the acanthus scrolls, how +grim the skulls and cross-bones on these portals! The bell-towers, +again, are ribbed and beamed with black lava. A certain amount of +the structure is whitewashed, which serves to relieve the funereal +solemnity of the rest. In an Indian district each of these churches +would be a temple, raised in vain propitiation to the demon of the +fire above and below. Some pictures made by their spires in +combination with the sad village-hovels, the snowy dome of Etna, +and the ever-smiling sea, are quite unique in their variety of +suggestion and wild beauty.</p> + +<p>The people have a sorrow-smitten and stern aspect. Some of the +men in the prime of life are grand and haughty, with the +cast-bronze countenance of Roman emperors. But the old men bear +rigid faces of carved basalt, gazing fixedly before them as though +at some time or other in their past lives they had met Medusa: and +truly Etna in eruption is a Gorgon, which their ancestors have +oftentimes seen shuddering, and fled from terror-frozen. The +white-haired old women, plying their spindle or distaff, or +meditating in grim solitude, sit with the sinister set features of +Fates by their doorways. The young people are very rarely seen to +smile: they open hard, black, beaded eyes upon a world in which +there is little for them but endurance or the fierceness of +passions that delight in blood. Strangely different are these +dwellers on the sides of Etna from the voluble, lithe sailors of +Sciacca or Mazara, with their sunburnt skins and many-coloured +garments.</p> + +<p>The Val del Bove—a vast chasm in the flank of Etna, where +the very heart of the volcano has been riven and its entrails +bared—is the most impressive spot of all this region. <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg282" id="pg282">282</a></span> The road +to it leads from Zafferana (so called because of its +crocus-flowers) along what looks like a series of black moraines, +where the lava torrents pouring from the craters of Etna have +spread out, and reared themselves in stiffened ridges against +opposing mountain buttresses. After toiling for about three hours +over the dismal waste, a point between the native rock of Etna and +the dead sea of lava is reached, which commands a prospect of the +cone with its curling smoke surmounting a caldron of some four +thousand feet in depth and seemingly very wide. The whole of this +space is filled with billows of blackness, wave on wave, crest over +crest, and dyke by dyke, precisely similar to a gigantic glacier, +swarthy and immovable. The resemblance of the lava flood to a +glacier is extraordinarily striking. One can fancy oneself standing +on the Belvedere at Macugnaga, or the Tacul point upon the Mer de +Glace, in some nightmare, and finding to one's horror that the +radiant snows and river-breeding ice-fields have been turned by a +malignant deity to sullen, stationary cinders. It is a most hideous +place, like a pit in Dante's Hell, disused for some unexplained +reason, and left untenanted by fiends. The scenery of the moon, +without atmosphere and without life, must be of this sort; and +such, rolling round in space, may be some planet that has survived +its own combustion. When the clouds, which almost always hang about +the Val del Bove, are tumbling at their awful play around its +precipices, veiling the sweet suggestion of distant sea and happier +hills that should be visible, the horror of this view is +aggravated. Breaking here and there, the billows of mist disclose +forlorn tracts of jet-black desolation, wicked, unutterable, +hateful in their hideousness, with patches of smutty snow above, +and downward-rolling volumes of murky smoke. Shakspere, when he +imagined the damned spirits confined to 'thrilling regions of +thick-ribbed ice,' <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg283" id= +"pg283">283</a></span> divined the nature of a glacier; but what +line could he have composed, adequate to shadow forth the tortures +of a soul condemned to palpitate for ever between the ridges of +this thirsty and intolerable sea of dead fire? If the world-spirit +chose to assume for itself the form and being of a dragon, of like +substance to this, impenetrable, invulnerable, unapproachable would +be its hide. It requires no great stretch of the imagination to +picture these lava lakes glowing, as they must have been, when +first outpoured, the bellowing of the crater, the heaving and +surging of the solid earth, the air obstructed with cinders and +whizzing globes of molten rock. Yet in these throes of devilish +activity, the Val del Bove would be less insufferable than in its +present state of suspension, asleep, but threatening, ready to +regurgitate its flame, but for a moment inert.</p> + +<p>An hour's drive from Nicolosi or Zafferana, seaward, brings one +into the richest land of 'olive and aloe and maize and vine' to be +found upon the face of Europe. Here, too, are laughing little +towns, white, prosperous, and gleeful, the very opposite of those +sad stations on the mountain-flank. Every house in Aci Reale has +its courtyard garden filled with orange-trees, and nespole, and +fig-trees, and oleanders. From the grinning corbels that support +the balconies hang tufts of gem-bright ferns and glowing +clove-pinks. Pergolas of vines, bronzed in autumn, and golden green +like chrysoprase beneath an April sun, fling their tendrils over +white walls and shady loggie. Gourds hang ripening in the steady +blaze. Far and wide stretches a landscape rich with tilth and +husbandry, boon Nature paying back to men tenfold for all their +easy toil. The terrible great mountain sleeps in the distance +innocent of fire. I know not whether this land be more delightful +in spring or autumn. The little flamelike flakes of brightness upon +vines and fig-trees in April have their <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg284" id="pg284">284</a></span> own peculiar charm. But in +November the whole vast flank of Etna glows with the deep-blue tone +of steel; the russet woods are like a film of rust; the vine-boughs +thrust living carbuncles against the sun. To this season, when the +peculiar earth-tints of Etna, its strong purples and tawny browns, +are harmonised with the decaying wealth of forest and of orchard, I +think the palm of beauty must be given in this land.</p> + +<p>The sea is an unchangeable element of charm in all this +landscape. Aci Castello should be visited, and those strange rocks, +called the Ciclopidi, forced by volcanic pressure from beneath the +waves. They are made of black basalt like the Giant's Causeway; and +on their top can be traced the caps of calcareous stone they +carried with them in the fret and fury of their upheaval from the +sea-bed. Samphire, wild fennel, cactus, and acanthus clothe them +now from crest to basement where the cliff is not too sheer. By the +way, there are few plants more picturesque than the acanthus in +full flower. Its pale lilac spikes of blossom stand waist-high +above a wilderness of feathering, curving, delicately indented, +burnished leaves—deep, glossy, cool, and green.</p> + +<p>This is the place for a child's story of the one-eyed giant +Polyphemus, who fed his flocks among the oak-woods of Etna, and +who, strolling by the sea one summer evening, saw and loved the +fair girl Galatea. She was afraid of him, and could not bear his +shaggy-browed round rolling eye. But he forgot his sheep and goats, +and sat upon the cliffs and piped to her. Meanwhile she loved the +beautiful boy Acis, who ran down from the copse to play with her +upon the sea-beach. They hid together from Polyphemus in a +fern-curtained cavern of the shore. But Polyphemus spied them out +and heard them laughing together at their games. Then he grew +wroth, and stamped with his huge feet upon the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg285" id="pg285">285</a></span> earth, and made +it shake and quiver. He roared and bellowed in his rage, and tore +up rocks and flung them at the cavern where the children were in +hiding, and his eye shot fire beneath the grisly pent-house of his +wrinkled brows. They, in their sore distress, prayed to heaven; and +their prayers were heard: Galatea became a mermaid, so that she +might swim and sport like foam upon the crests of the blue sea; and +Acis was changed into a stream that leapt from the hills to play +with her amid bright waters. But Polyphemus, in punishment for his +rage, and spite, and jealousy, was forced to live in the +mid-furnaces of Etna. There he growled and groaned and shot forth +flame in impotent fury; for though he remembered the gladness of +those playfellows, and sought to harm them by tossing red-hot rocks +upon the shore, yet the light sea ever laughed, and the radiant +river found its way down from the copsewood to the waves. The +throes of Etna in convulsion are the pangs of his great giant's +heart, pent up and sick with love for the bright sea and gladsome +sun; for, as an old poet sings:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i3">There's love when holy heaven doth wound the +earth;</div> + +<div class="i3">And love still prompts the land to yearn for +bridals:</div> + +<div class="i3">The rain that falls in rivers from the sky,</div> + +<div class="i3">Impregnates earth: and she brings forth for +men</div> + +<div class="i3">The flocks and herds and life of teeming +Ceres.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>To which let us add:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">But sometimes love is barren, when broad +hills,</div> + +<div class="i4">Rent with the pangs of passion, yearn in +vain,</div> + +<div class="i4">Pouring fire tears adown their furrowed +cheeks,</div> + +<div class="i4">And heaving in the impotence of anguish.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There are few places in Europe where the poetic truth of Greek +mythology is more apparent than here upon the coast between Etna +and the sea. Of late, philosophers have been eager to tell us that +the beautiful legends of the Greeks, which <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg286" id="pg286">286</a></span> contain in the coloured haze +of fancy all the thoughts afterwards expressed by that divine race +in poetry and sculpture, are but decayed phrases, dead sentences, +and words whereof the meaning was forgotten. In this theory there +is a certain truth; for mythology stands midway between the first +lispings of a nation in its language, and its full-developed +utterances in art. Yet we have only to visit the scenes which gave +birth to some Hellenic myth, and we perceive at once that, whatever +philology may affirm, the legend was a living poem, a drama of life +and passion transferred from human experience to the inanimate +world by those early myth-makers, who were the first and the most +fertile of all artists. Persephone was the patroness of Sicily, +because amid the billowy cornfields of her mother Demeter and the +meadow flowers she loved in girlhood, are ever found sulphurous +ravines and chasms breathing vapour from the pit of Hades. What +were the Cyclops—that race of one-eyed giants—but the +many minor cones of Etna? Observed from the sea by mariners, or +vaguely spoken of by the natives, who had reason to dread their +rage, these hillocks became lawless and devouring giants, each with +one round burning eye. Afterwards the tales of Titans who had +warred with Zeus were realised in this spot. Typhoeus or Enceladus +made the mountain heave and snort; while Hephæstus not +unnaturally forged thunder-bolts in the central caverns of a +volcano that never ceased to smoke. To the student of art and +literature, mythology is chiefly interesting in its latest stages, +when, the linguistic origin of special legends being utterly +forgotten, the poets of the race played freely with its rich +material. Who cares to be told that Achilles was the sun, when the +child of Thetis and the lover of Patroclus has been sung for us by +Homer? Are the human agonies of the doomed house of Thebes made +less appalling by tracing back the tale of OEdipus to some <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg287" id="pg287">287</a></span> prosaic +source in old astronomy? The incest of Jocasta is the subject of +supreme tragic art. It does not improve the matter, or whitewash +the imagination of the Greeks, as some have fondly fancied, to +unravel the fabric wrought by Homer and by Sophocles, into its raw +material in Aryan dialects. Indeed, this new method of criticism +bids fair to destroy for young minds the human lessons of pathos +and heroism in Greek poetry, and to create an obscure conviction +that the greatest race of artists the world has ever produced were +but dotards, helplessly dreaming over distorted forms of speech and +obsolete phraseology.</p> + +<p>Let us bid farewell to Etna from Taormina. All along the coast +between Aci and Giardini the mountain towers distinct against a +sunset sky—divested of its robe of cloud, translucent and +blue as some dark sea-built crystal. The Val del Bove is shown to +be a circular crater in which the lava has boiled and bubbled over +to the fertile land beneath. As we reach Giardini, the young moon +is shining, and the night is alive with stars so large and bright +that they seem leaning down to whisper in the ears of our soul. The +sea is calm, touched here and there on the fringes of the bays and +headlands with silvery light; and impendent crags loom black and +sombre against the feeble azure of the moonlit sky. <i>Quale per +incertam lunam et sub luce malignâ</i>: such is our journey, +with Etna, a grey ghost, behind our path, and the reflections of +stars upon the sea, and glow-worms in the hedges, and the mystical +still splendour of the night, that, like Death, liberates the soul, +raising it above all common things, simplifying the outlines of the +earth as well as our own thoughts to one twilight hush of +aërial tranquillity. It is a strange compliment to such a +landscape to say that it recalls a scene from an opera. Yet so it +is. What the arts of the scene-painter and the musician strive to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg288" id="pg288">288</a></span> +suggest is here realised in fact; the mood of the soul created by +music and by passion is natural here, spontaneous, prepared by the +divine artists of earth, air, and sea.</p> + +<p>Was there ever such another theatre as this of Taormina? Turned +to the south, hollowed from the crest of a promontory 1000 feet +above the sea, it faces Etna with its crown of snow: below, the +coast sweeps onward to Catania and the distant headland of +Syracuse. From the back the shore of Sicily curves with delicately +indented bays towards Messina: then come the straits, and the blunt +mass of the Calabrian mountains terminating Italy at Spartivento. +Every spot on which the eye can rest is rife with reminiscences. It +was there, we say, looking northward to the straits, that Ulysses +tossed between Scylla and Charybdis; there, turning towards the +flank of Etna, that he met with Polyphemus and defied the giant +from his galley. From yonder snow-capped eyrie, +Αιτνας +σκοπία, the rocks were hurled on +Acis. And all along that shore, after Persephone was lost, went +Demeter, torch in hand, wailing for the daughter she could no more +find among Sicilian villages. Then, leaving myths for history, we +remember how the ships of Nikias set sail from Reggio, and coasted +the forelands at our feet, past Naxos, on their way to Catania and +Syracuse. Gylippus afterwards in his swift galley took the same +course: and Dion, when he came to destroy his nephew's empire. Here +too Timoleon landed, resolute in his firm will to purge the isle of +tyrants.</p> + +<p>What scenes, more spirit-shaking than any tragic +shows—pageants of fire and smoke, and mountains in +commotion—are witnessed from these grassy benches, when the +earth rocks, and the sea is troubled, and the side of Etna flows +with flame, and night grows horrible with bellowings that forebode +changes in empires!—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg289" id= +"pg289">289</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i7">Quoties Cyclopum effervere in agros</div> + +<div class="i4">Vidimus undantem ruptis fornacibus +Ætnam,</div> + +<div class="i4">Flammarumque globos liquefactaque volvere +saxa.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The stage of these tremendous pomps is very calm and peaceful +now. Lying among acanthus leaves and asphodels, bound together by +wreaths of white and pink convolvulus, we only feel that this is +the loveliest landscape on which our eyes have ever rested or can +rest. The whole scene is a symphony of blues—gemlike +lapis-lazuli in the sea, aërial azure in the distant +headlands, light-irradiated sapphire in the sky, and impalpable +vapour-mantled purple upon Etna. The grey tones of the neighbouring +cliffs, and the glowing brickwork of the ruined theatre, through +the arches of which shine sea and hillside, enhance by contrast +these modulations of the one prevailing hue. Etna is the dominant +feature of the +landscape—Αιτνας +ματερ +εμά—πολυδένδρεος +Αιτνας— than which no other +mountain is more sublimely solitary, more worthy of Pindar's +praise, 'The pillar of heaven, the nurse of sharp eternal snow.' It +is Etna that gives its unique character of elevated beauty to this +coast scenery, raising it to a grander and more tragic level than +the landscape of the Cornice and the Bay of Naples.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg290" id= +"pg290">290</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="PALERMO" id="PALERMO" /><i>PALERMO</i></h3> + +<div class="center"> +<div class="smcap">the normans in sicily</div> +</div> + +<p>Sicily, in the centre of the Mediterranean, has been throughout +all history the meeting-place and battle-ground of the races that +contributed to civilise the West. It was here that the Greeks +measured their strength against Phoenicia, and that Carthage fought +her first duel with Rome. Here the bravery of Hellenes triumphed +over barbarian force in the victories of Gelon and Timoleon. Here, +in the harbour of Syracuse, the Athenian Empire succumbed to its +own intemperate ambition. Here, in the end, Rome laid her mortmain +upon Greek, Phoenician, and Sikeliot alike, turning the island into +a granary and reducing its inhabitants to serfdom. When the classic +age had closed, when Belisarius had vainly reconquered from the +Goths for the empire of the East the fair island of Persephone and +Zeus Olympius, then came the Mussulman, filling up with an interval +of Oriental luxury and Arabian culture the period of utter deadness +between the ancient and the modern world. To Islam succeeded the +conquerors of the house of Hauteville, Norman knights who had but +lately left their Scandinavian shores, and settled in the northern +provinces of France. The Normans flourished for a season, and were +merged in a line of Suabian princes, old Barbarossa's progeny. +German rulers thus came to sway the corn-lands of Trinacria, until +the bitter hatred of the Popes extinguished the house of +Hohenstauffen upon the battlefield <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg291" id="pg291">291</a></span> of Grandella and the scaffold of +Naples. Frenchmen had the next turn—for a brief space only; +since Palermo cried to the sound of her tocsins, 'Mora, Mora,' and +the tyranny of Anjou was expunged with blood. Spain, the tardy and +patient power, which inherited so much from the failure of more +brilliant races, came at last, and tightened so firm a hold upon +the island, that from the end of the thirteenth to the beginning of +the nineteenth century, with one brief exception, Sicily belonged +to the princes of Aragon, Castile, and Bourbon. These vicissitudes +have left their traces everywhere. The Greek temples of Segeste and +Girgenti and Selinus, the Roman amphitheatre of Syracuse, the +Byzantine mosaics and Saracenic villas of Palermo, the Norman +cathedrals of Monreale and Cefalú, and the Spanish habits +which still characterise the life of Sicilian cities, testify to +the successive strata of races which have been deposited upon the +island. Amid its anarchy of tongues, the Latin alone has triumphed. +In the time of the Greek colonists Sicily was polyglot. During the +Saracenic occupation it was trilingual. It is now, and during +modern history it has always been, Italian. Differences of language +and of nationality have gradually been fused into one substance, by +the spirit which emanates from Rome, and vivifies the Latin +race.</p> + +<p>The geographical position of Sicily has always influenced its +history in a very marked way. The eastern coast, which is turned +towards Greece and Italy, has been the centre of Aryan civilisation +in the island, so that during Greek and Roman ascendency Syracuse +was held the capital. The western end, which projects into the +African sea, was occupied in the time of the Hellenes by +Phoenicians, and afterwards by Mussulmans: consequently Panormus, +the ancient seat of Punic colonists, now called Palermo, became the +centre of the Moslem rule, which, inherited entire by the Norman +chieftains, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg292" id= +"pg292">292</a></span> was transmitted eventually to Spain. +Palermo, devoid of classic monuments, and unknown except as a name +to the historians of Greek civilisation, is therefore the modern +capital of the island. 'Prima sedes, corona regis, et regni caput,' +is the motto inscribed upon the cathedral porch and the +archiepiscopal throne of Palermo: nor has any other city, except +Messina,<a name="FNanchor_1_55" id="FNanchor_1_55" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_55" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>presumed to +contest this title.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_55" id="Footnote_1_55" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_55"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Messina, owing to its mercantile position between the Levant, +Italy, and France, and as the key to Sicily from the mainland, +might probably have become the modern capital had not the Normans +found a state machinery ready to their use centralised at +Palermo.</p> +</div> + +<p>Perhaps there are few spots upon the surface of the globe more +beautiful than Palermo. The hills on either hand descend upon the +sea with long-drawn delicately broken outlines, so exquisitely +tinted with aërial hues, that at early dawn or beneath the +blue light of a full moon the panorama seems to be some fabric of +the fancy, that must fade away, 'like shapes of clouds we form,' to +nothing. Within the cradle of these hills, and close upon the +tideless water, lies the city. Behind and around on every side +stretches the famous <i>Conca d'Oro</i>, or golden shell, a plain +of marvellous fertility, so called because of its richness and also +because of its shape; for it tapers to a fine point where the +mountains meet, and spreads abroad, where they diverge, like a +cornucopia, toward the sea. The whole of this long vega is a +garden, thick with olive-groves and orange-trees, with orchards of +nespole and palms and almonds, with fig-trees and locust-trees, +with judas-trees that blush in spring, and with flowers as +multitudinously brilliant as the fretwork of sunset clouds. It was +here that in the days of the Kelbite dynasty, the sugar-cane and +cotton-tree and mulberry supplied both East and West with produce +for the banquet and the paper-mill and the silk-loom; and though +these industries are now neglected, vast gardens of <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg293" id="pg293">293</a></span> cactuses still +give a strangely Oriental character to the scenery of Palermo, +while the land flows with honey-sweet wine instead of sugar. The +language in which Arabian poets extolled the charms of this fair +land is even now nowise extravagant: 'Oh how beautiful is the +lakelet of the twin palms, and the island where the spacious palace +stands! The limpid water of the double springs resembles liquid +pearls, and their basin is a sea: you would say that the branches +of the trees stretched down to see the fishes in the pool and smile +at them. The great fishes swim in those clear waters, and the birds +among the gardens tune their songs. The ripe oranges of the island +are like fire that burns on boughs of emerald; the pale lemon +reminds me of a lover who has passed the night in weeping for his +absent darling. The two palms may be compared to lovers who have +gained an inaccessible retreat against their enemies, or raise +themselves erect in pride to confound the murmurs and ill thoughts +of jealous men. O palms of the two lakelets of Palermo, may +ceaseless, undisturbed, and plenteous dews for ever keep your +freshness!' Such is the poetry which suits the environs of Palermo, +where the Moorish villas of La Zisa and La Cuba and La Favara still +stand, and where the modern gardens, though wilder, are scarcely +less delightful than those beneath which King Roger discoursed with +Edrisi, and Gian da Procida surprised his sleeping mistress.<a +name="FNanchor_1_56" id="FNanchor_1_56" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_56" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The groves of +oranges and lemons are an inexhaustible source of joy: not only +because of their 'golden lamps in a green night,' but also because +of their silvery constellations, nebulæ, and drifts of stars, +in the same green night, and milky ways of blossoms on the ground +beneath. As in all southern scenery, the transition from these +perfumed thickly clustering gardens to the bare unirrigated +hillsides is very striking. There the dwarf-palm <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg294" id="pg294">294</a></span> tufts with its +spiky foliage the clefts of limestone rock, and the lizards run in +and out among bushes of tree-spurge and wild cactus and grey +asphodels. The sea-shore is a tangle of lilac and oleander and +laurustinus and myrtle and lentisk and cytisus and geranium. The +flowering plants that make our shrubberies gay in spring with +blossoms, are here wild, running riot upon the sand-heaps of +Mondello or beneath the barren slopes of Monte Pellegrino.</p> + +<p>It was into this terrestrial paradise, cultivated through two +preceding centuries by the Arabs, who of all races were wisest in +the arts of irrigation and landscape-gardening, that the Norsemen +entered as conquerors, and lay down to pass their lives.<a name= +"FNanchor_2_57" id="FNanchor_2_57" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_57" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_56" id="Footnote_1_56" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_56"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Boccaccio, Giorn. v. Nov. 6.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_57" id="Footnote_2_57" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_57"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The +Saracens possessed themselves of Sicily by a gradual conquest, +which began about 827 A.D. Disembarking on the little isle of +Pantellaria and the headland of Lilyboeum, where of old the +Carthaginians used to enter Sicily, they began by overrunning the +island for the first four years. In 831 they took Palermo; during +the next ten years they subjugated the Val di Mazara; between 841 +and 859 they possessed themselves of the Val di Noto; after this +they extended their conquest over the seaport towns of the Val +Demone, but neglected to reduce the whole of the N.E. district. +Syracuse was stormed and reduced to ruins after a desperate defence +in 878, while Leo, the heir of the Greek Empire, contented himself +with composing two Anacreontic elegies on the disaster at +Byzantium. In 895 Sicily was wholly lost to the Greeks, by a treaty +signed between the Saracens and the remaining Christian towns. The +Christians during the Mussulman occupation were divided into four +classes—(1) A few independent municipalities obedient loosely +to the Greek Empire; (2) tributaries who paid the Arabs what they +would otherwise have sent to Byzantium; (3) vassals, whose towns +had fallen by arms or treaty into the hands of the conquerors, and +who, though their property was respected and religion tolerated, +were called 'dsimmi' or 'humbled;' (4) serfs, prisoners of war, +sold as slaves or attached to the soil (<i>Amari</i>, vol. i.).</p> +</div> + +<p>No chapter of history more resembles a romance than that which +records the sudden rise and brief splendour of the house of +Hauteville. In one generation the sons of Tancred passed from the +condition of squires in the Norman vale of <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg295" id="pg295">295</a></span> Cotentin, to kinghood in the +richest island of the southern sea. The Norse adventurers became +Sultans of an Oriental capital. The sea-robbers assumed together +with the sceptre the culture of an Arabian court. The marauders +whose armies burned Rome, received at papal hands the mitre and +dalmatic as symbols of ecclesiastical jurisdiction.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_58" id="FNanchor_1_58" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_58" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The brigands who +on their first appearance in Italy had pillaged stables and +farmyards to supply their needs, lived to mate their daughters with +princes and to sway the politics of Europe with gold. The +freebooters, whose skill consisted in the use of sword and shield, +whose brains were vigorous in strategy or statecraft, and whose +pleasures were confined to the hunting-field and the wine-cup, +raised villas like the Zisa and encrusted the cathedral of Monreale +with mosaics. Finally, while the race was yet vigorous, after +giving two heroes to the first Crusade, it transmitted its titles, +its temper, and its blood to the great Emperor, who was destined to +fight out upon the battlefield of Italy the strife of Empire +against Papacy, and to bequeath to mediæval Europe the +tradition of cosmopolitan culture. The physical energy of this +brood of heroes was such as can scarcely be paralleled in history. +Tancred de Hauteville begat two families by different wives. Of his +children twelve were sons; two of whom stayed with their father in +Normandy, while ten sought fame and found a kingdom in the south. +Of these, William Iron Arm, the first Count of Apulia; Robert +Guiscard, who united Calabria and Apulia under one dukedom, and +carried victorious arms against both Emperors of East and West; and +Roger the Great Count, who added Sicily to the conquests of the +Normans and bequeathed the kingdom of South Italy to his son, rose +to the highest name. But all the brothers shared <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg296" id="pg296">296</a></span> the great +qualities of the house; and two of them, Humphrey and Drogo, also +wore a coronet. Large of limb and stout of heart, persevering under +difficulties, crafty yet gifted with the semblance of sincerity, +combining the piety of pilgrims with the morals of highwaymen, the +sturdiness of barbarians with the plasticity of culture, eloquent +in the council-chamber and the field, dear to their soldiers for +their bravery and to women for their beauty, equally eminent as +generals and as rulers, restrained by no scruples but such as +policy suggested, restless in their energy, yet neither fickle nor +rash, comprehensive in their views, but indefatigable in detail, +these lions among men were made to conquer in the face of +overwhelming obstacles, and to hold their conquests with a grasp of +iron. What they wrought, whether wisely or not for the ultimate +advantage of Italy, endures to this day, while the work of so many +emperors, republics, and princes has passed and shifted like the +scenes in a pantomime. Through them the Greeks, the Lombards, and +the Moors were extinguished in the south. The Papacy was checked in +its attempt to found a province of S. Peter below the Tiber. The +republics of Naples, Gaeta, Amalfi, which might have rivalled +perchance with Milan, Genoa, and Florence, were subdued to a +master's hand. In short, to the Normans Italy owed that kingdom of +the Two Sicilies which formed one-third of her political balance, +and which proved the cause of all her most serious revolutions.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_58" id="Footnote_1_58" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_58"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> King +Roger in the mosaics of the Martorana Church at Palermo wears the +dalmatic, and receives his crown from the hands of Christ.</p> +</div> + +<p>Roger, the youngest of the Hauteville family, and the founder of +the kingdom of Sicily, showed by his untamable spirit and sound +intellect that his father's vigour remained unexhausted. Each of +Tancred's sons was physically speaking a masterpiece, and the last +was the prime work of all. This Roger, styled the Great Count, +begat a second Roger, the first King of Sicily, whose son and +grandson, both named William, ruled in succession at Palermo. With +them the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg297" id= +"pg297">297</a></span> direct line of the house of Hauteville +expired. It would seem as if the energy and fertility of the stock +had been drained by its efforts in the first three generations. +Constance, the heiress of the family, who married Henry VI. and +gave birth to the Emperor Frederick II., was daughter of King +Roger, and therefore third in descent from Tancred. Drawing her +blood more immediately from the parent stem, she thus transmitted +to the princes of the race of Hohenstauffen the vigour of her +Norman ancestry unweakened. This was a circumstance of no small +moment in the history of Europe. Upon the fierce and daring Suabian +stem were grafted the pertinacity, the cunning, the versatility of +the Norman adventurers. Young Frederick, while strong and subtle +enough to stand for himself against the world, was so finely +tempered by the blended strains of his parentage that he received +the polish of an Oriental education without effeminacy. Called upon +to administer the affairs of Germany, to govern Italy, to contend +with the Papacy, and to settle by arms and treaties the great +Oriental question of his days, Frederick, cosmopolitan from the +cradle, was equal to the task. Had Europe been but ready, the +Renaissance would have dated from his reign, and a universal +empire, if not of political government, yet of intellectual +culture, might have been firmly instituted.</p> + +<p>Of the personal appearance of the Norman chiefs—their fair +hair, clear eyes, and broad shoulders—we hear much from the +chroniclers. One minutely studied portrait will serve to bring the +whole race vividly before us. Bohemond, Prince of Tarentum, the son +of Robert Guiscard, and first cousin to Tancred of Montferrat, was +thus described by Anna Comnena, who saw him at her father's court +during the first Crusade: 'Neither amongst our own nation (the +Greeks), nor amongst foreigners, is there in our age a man equal to +Bohemond. His presence dazzled the eyes, as his reputation the +fancy. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg298" id= +"pg298">298</a></span> He was one cubit taller than the tallest man +known. In his waist he was thin, but broad in his shoulders and +chest, without being either too thin or too fat. His arms were +strong, his hands full and large, his feet firm and solid. He +stooped a little, but through habit only, and not on account of any +deformity. He was fair, but on his cheeks there was an agreeable +mixture of vermilion. His hair was not loose over his shoulders, +according to the fashion of the barbarians, but was cut above his +ears. His eyes were blue, and full of wrath and fierceness. His +nostrils were large, inasmuch as having a wide chest and a great +heart, his lungs required an unusual quantity of air to moderate +the warmth of his blood. His handsome face had in itself something +gentle and softening, but the height of his person and the +fierceness of his looks had something wild and terrible. He was +more dreadful in his smiles than others in their rage.' When we +read this description, remembering the romance of Bohemond's +ancestry and his own life, we do not wonder at the tales of +chivalry. Those 'knights of Logres and of Lyoness, Lancelot or +Pelleas or Pellenore,' with whose adventures our tawny-haired +magnificent Plantagenets amused their leisure, become realities. +The manly beauty, described by the Byzantine princess in words +which seem to betray a more than common interest in her handsome +foe, was hereditary in the house of Hauteville. They transmitted it +to the last of the Suabian dynasty, to Manfred and Conradin, and to +the king Enzio, whose long golden hair fell down from his shoulders +to his saddle-bow as he rode, a captive, into Bologna.</p> + +<p>The story of the Norman conquest is told by two +chroniclers—William of Apulia, who received his materials +from Robert Guiscard, and Godfrey Malaterra, who wrote down the +oral narrative of Roger. Thus we possess what is tantamount to +personal memoirs of the Norman chiefs. Nevertheless, a veil <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg299" id="pg299">299</a></span> of +legendary romance obscures the first appearance of the Scandinavian +warriors upon the scene of history. William of Apulia tells how, in +the course of a pilgrimage to S. Michael's shrine on Monte Gargano, +certain knights of Normandy were accosted by a stranger of imposing +aspect, who persuaded them to draw their swords in the quarrel of +the Lombard towns of South Italy against the Greeks. This man was +Melo of Bari. Whether his invitation were so theatrically conveyed +or not, it is probable that the Norsemen made their first +acquaintance with Apulia on a pilgrimage to the Italian Michael's +mount; and it is certain that Melo, whom we dimly descry as a +patriot of enlarged views and indomitable constancy, provided them +with arms and horses, raised troops in Salerno and Benevento to +assist them, and directed them against the Greeks. This happened in +1017. Twelve years later we find the town of Aversa built and +occupied by Normans under the control of their Count Rainulf; while +another band, headed by Ardoin, a Lombard of Milan, lived at large +upon the country, selling its services to the Byzantine Greeks. In +the anarchy of Southern Italy at this epoch, when the decaying +Empire of the East was relaxing its hold upon the Apulian +provinces, when the Papacy was beginning to lift up its head after +the ignominy of Theodora and Marozia, and the Lombard power was +slowly dissolving upon its ill-established foundations, the Norman +adventurers pursued a policy which, however changeful, was +invariably self-advantageous. On whatever side they fought, they +took care that the profits of war should accrue to their own +colony. Quarrel as they might among themselves, they were always +found at one against a common foe. And such was their reputation in +the field, that the hardiest soldiers errant of all nations joined +their standard. Thus it fell out that when Ardoin and his Normans +had helped Maniaces to wrest the eastern districts of Sicily from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg300" id="pg300">300</a></span> the +Moors, they returned, upon an insult offered by the Greek general, +to extend the right hand of fellowship to Rainulf and his Normans +of Aversa. 'Why should you stay here like a rat in his hole, when +with our help you might rule those fertile plains, expelling the +women in armour who keep guard over them?' The agreement of Ardoin +and Rainulf formed the basis of the future Norman power. Their +companies joined forces. Melfi was chosen as the centre of their +federal government. The united Norman colony elected twelve chiefs +or counts of equal authority; and henceforth they thought only of +consolidating their ascendency over the effete races which had +hitherto pretended to employ their arms. The genius of their race +and age, however, was unfavourable to federations. In a short time +the ablest man among them, the true king, by right of personal +vigour and mental cunning, showed himself. It was at this point +that the house of Hauteville rose to the altitude of its romantic +destiny. William Iron Arm was proclaimed Count of Apulia. Two of +his brothers succeeded him in the same dignity. His half-brother, +Robert Guiscard, imprisoned one Pope,<a name="FNanchor_1_59" id= +"FNanchor_1_59" /><a href="#Footnote_1_59" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> Leo IX., and wrested from another, Nicholas II., +the title of Duke of Apulia and Calabria. By the help of his +youngest brother, Roger, he gradually completed the conquest of +Italy below the Tiber, and then addressed himself to the task of +subduing Sicily. The Papacy, incapable of opposing the military +vigour of the Northmen, was distracted between jealousy of their +growing importance and desire to utilise them for its own +advantage.<a name="FNanchor_2_60" id="FNanchor_2_60" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_60" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> The temptation to +employ these filial <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg301" id= +"pg301">301</a></span> pirates as a catspaw for restoring Sicily to +the bosom of the Church, was too strong to be resisted. In spite of +many ebbs and flows of policy, the favour which the Popes accorded +to the Normans gilded the might and cunning of the adventurers with +the specious splendour of acknowledged sanctity. The time might +come for casting off these powerful allies and adding their +conquests to the patrimony of S. Peter. Meanwhile it costs nothing +to give away what does not belong to one, particularly when by +doing so a title to the same is gradually formed. So the Popes +reckoned. Robert and Roger went forth with banners blessed by Rome +to subjugate the island of the Greek and Moor.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_59" id="Footnote_1_59" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_59"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +Normans were lucky in getting hold of Popes. King Roger caught +Innocent II. at San Germano in 1139, and got from him the +confirmation of all his titles.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_60" id="Footnote_2_60" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_60"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Even +the great Hildebrand wavered in his policy toward Robert Guiscard. +Having raised an army by the help of the Countess Matilda in 1074, +he excommunicated Robert and made war against him. Robert proved +more than his match in force and craft; and Hildebrand had to +confirm his title as duke, and designate him Knight of S. Peter in +1080. When Robert drove the Emperor Henry IV. from Rome, and burned +the city of the Coelian, Hildebrand retired with his terrible +defender to Salerno, and died there in 1085. Robert and both Rogers +were good sons of the Church, deserving the titles of 'Terror of +the faithless,' 'Sword of the Lord drawn from the scabbard of +Sicily,' as long as they were suffered to pursue their own schemes +of empire. They respected the Pope's person and his demesne of +Benevento; they were largely liberal in donations to churches and +abbeys. But they did not suffer their piety to interfere with their +ambition.</p> +</div> + +<p>The honours of this conquest, paralleled for boldness only by +the achievements of Cortes and Pizarro, belong to Roger. It is true +that since the fall of the Kelbite dynasty Sicily had been shaken +by anarchy and despotism, by the petty quarrels of princes and +party leaders, and to some extent also by the invasion of Maniaces. +Yet on the approach of Roger with a handful of Norman knights, 'the +island was guarded,' to quote Gibbon's energetic phrase, 'to the +water's edge.' For some years he had to content himself with raids +and harrying excursions, making Messina, which he won from the +Moors by the aid of their Christian serfs and vassals, the basis of +his operations, and retiring from time to time across the Faro +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg302" id="pg302">302</a></span> +with booty to Reggio. The Mussulmans had never thoroughly subdued +the north-eastern highlands of Sicily. Satisfied with occupying the +whole western and southern sections of the island, with planting +their government firmly at Palermo, destroying Syracuse, and +establishing a military fort on the heights of Castro Giovanni, +they had somewhat neglected the Christian populations of the Val +Demone. Thus the key to Sicily upon the Italian side fell into the +hands of the invaders. From Messina Roger advanced by Rametta and +Centorbi to Troina, a hill-town raised high above the level of the +sea, within view of the solemn blue-black pyramid of Etna. There he +planted a garrison in 1062, two years after his first incursion +into the island. The interval had been employed in marches and +countermarches, descents upon the vale of Catania, and hurried +expeditions as far as Girgenti, on the southern coast. One great +battle is recorded beneath the walls of Castro Giovanni, when six +hundred Norman knights, so say the chroniclers, engaged with +fifteen thousand of the Arabian chivalry and one hundred thousand +foot soldiers. However great the exaggeration of these numbers, it +is certain that the Christians fought at fearful odds that day, and +that all the eloquence of Roger, who wrought on their fanaticism in +his speech before the battle, was needed to raise their courage to +the sticking-point. The scene of the great rout of Saracens which +followed, is in every respect memorable. Castro Giovanni, the old +Enna of the Greeks and Romans, stands on the top of a precipitous +mountain, two thousand feet above a plain which waves with corn. A +sister height, Calascibetta, raised nearly to an equal altitude, +keeps ward over the same valley; and from their summits the whole +of Sicily is visible. Here in old days Demeter from her rock-built +temple could survey vast tracts of hill and dale, breaking +downwards to the sea and undulating everywhere with harvest. <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg303" id="pg303">303</a></span> The much +praised lake and vale of Enna<a name="FNanchor_1_61" id= +"FNanchor_1_61" /><a href="#Footnote_1_61" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> are now a desolate sulphur district, void of +beauty, with no flowers to tempt Proserpine. Yet the landscape is +eminently noble because of its breadth—bare naked hills +stretching in every direction to the sea that girdles +Sicily—peak rising above peak and town-capped eyrie over +eyrie—while Etna, wreathed with snow, and purple with the +peculiar colour of its coal-black lava seen through +light-irradiated air, sleeps far off beneath a crown of clouds. +Upon the cornfields in the centre of this landscape the multitudes +of the Infidels were smitten hip and thigh by the handful of +Christian warriors. Yet the victory was by no means a decisive one. +The Saracens swarmed round the Norman fortress of Troina; where, +during a severe winter, Roger and his young wife, Judith of Evreux, +whom he had loved in Normandy, and who journeyed to marry him amid +the din of battles, had but one cloak to protect them both from the +cold. The traveller, who even in April has experienced the chill of +a high-set Sicilian village, will not be <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg304" id="pg304">304</a></span> inclined to laugh at the +hardships revealed by this little incident. Yet the Normans, one +and all, were stanch. A victory over their assailants in the spring +gave them courage to push their arms as far as the river Himera and +beyond the Simeto, while a defeat of fifty thousand Saracens by +four hundred Normans at Cerami opened the way at last to Palermo. +Reading of these engagements, we are led to remember how Gelon +smote his Punic foes upon the Himera, and Timoleon arrayed Greeks +by the ten against Carthaginians by the thousand on the Crimisus. +The battlefields are scarcely altered; the combatants are as +unequally matched, and represent analogous races. It is still the +combat of a few heroic Europeans against the hordes of Asia. In the +battle of Cerami it is said that S. George fought visibly on +horseback before the Christian band, like that wide-winged +chivalrous archangel whom Spinello Aretino painted beside Sant' +Efeso in the press of men upon the walls of the Pisan Campo +Santo.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_61" id="Footnote_1_61" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_61"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Cicero's description of Enna is still accurate: 'Enna is placed in +a very lofty and exposed situation, at the top of which is a +tableland and never-failing supply of springs. The whole site is +cut off from access, and precipitous.' But when he proceeds to say, +'many groves and lakes surround it and luxuriant flowers through +all the year,' we cannot follow him. The only quality which Enna +has not lost is the impregnable nature of its cliffs. A few poplars +and thorns are all that remain of its forests. Did we not know that +the myth of Demeter and Persephone was a poem of seed-time and +harvest, we might be tempted, while sitting on the crags of Castro +Giovanni and looking toward the lake, to fancy that in old days a +village dependent upon Enna, and therefore called her daughter, +might have occupied the site of the lake, and that this village +might have been withdrawn into the earth by the volcanic action +which produced the cavity. Then people would have said that Demeter +had lost Persephone and sought her vainly through all the cities of +Sicily: and if this happened in spring Persephone might well have +been thought to have been gathering flowers at the time when Hades +took her to himself. So easy and yet so dangerous is it to +rationalise a legend.</p> +</div> + +<p>The capture of Palermo cost the Normans another eight years, +part of which was spent according to their national tactics in +plundering expeditions, part in the subjugation of Catania and +other districts, part in the blockade of the capital by sea and +land. After the fall of Palermo, it only remained for Roger to +reduce isolated cities—Taormina, Syracuse,<a name= +"FNanchor_1_62" id="FNanchor_1_62" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_62" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Girgenti, and +Castro Giovanni—to his sway. The last-named and strongest +hold of the Saracens fell into his hands by the treason of +Ibn-Hamûud in 1087, and thus, after thirty years' continual +effort, the two brothers were at last able to divide the island +between them. The lion's share, as was due, fell to Roger, who +styled himself Great Count of Sicily and Calabria. In 1098, Urban +II., a politician of the school of <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg305" id="pg305">305</a></span> Cluny, who well understood the +scope of Hildebrand's plan for subjecting Europe to the Court of +Rome, rewarded Roger for his zeal in the service of the Church with +the title of Hereditary Apostolical Legate. The Great Count was now +on a par with the most powerful monarchs of Europe. In riches he +exceeded all; so that he was able to wed one daughter to the King +of Hungary, another to Conrad, King of Italy, a third to Raimond, +Count of Provence and Toulouse, dowering them all with imperial +munificence.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_62" id="Footnote_1_62" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_62"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In this +siege, as in that of the Athenians, and of the Saracens 878 A.D., +decisive engagements took place in the great harbour.</p> +</div> + +<p>Hale and vigorous, his life was prolonged through a green old +age until his seventieth year; when he died in 1101, he left two +sons by his third wife, Adelaide. Roger, the younger of the two, +destined to succeed his father, and (on the death of his cousin, +William, Duke of Apulia, in 1127) to unite South Italy and Sicily +under one crown, was only four years old at the death of the Great +Count. Inheriting all the valour and intellectual qualities of his +family, he rose to even higher honour than his predecessors. In +1130 he assumed the style of King of Sicily, no doubt with the +political purpose of impressing his Mussulman subjects; and nine +years later, when he took Innocent captive at San Germano, he +forced from the half-willing pontiff a confirmation of this title +as well as the investiture of Apulia, Calabria, and Capua. The +extent of his sway is recorded in the line engraved upon his +sword:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Appulus et Calaber Siculus mihi servit et +Afer.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>King Roger died in 1154, and bequeathed his kingdoms to his son +William, surnamed the Bad; who in his turn left them to a William, +called the Good, in 1166. The second William died in 1189, +transmitting his possessions by will to Constance, wife of the +Suabian emperor. These two Williams, the last of the Hauteville +monarchs of Sicily, were not altogether unworthy of their Norman +origin. William the Bad could rouse <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg306" id="pg306">306</a></span> himself from the sloth of his +seraglio to head an army; William the Good, though feeble in +foreign policy, and no general, administered the state with +clemency and wisdom.</p> + +<p>Sicily under the Normans offered the spectacle of a singularly +hybrid civilisation. Christians and Northmen, adopting the habits +and imbibing the culture of their Mussulman subjects, ruled a mixed +population of Greeks, Arabs, Berbers, and Italians. The language of +the princes was French; that of the Christians in their territory, +Greek and Latin; that of their Mahommedan subjects, Arabic. At the +same time the Scandinavian Sultans of Palermo did not cease to play +an active part in the affairs, both civil and ecclesiastical, of +Europe. The children of the Vikings, though they spent their +leisure in harems, exercised, as hereditary Legates of the Holy +See, a peculiar jurisdiction in the Church of Sicily. They +dispensed benefices to the clergy, and assumed the mitre and +dalmatic, together with the sceptre, and the crown, as symbols of +their authority in Church as well as State. As a consequence of +this confusion of nationalities in Sicily, we find French and +English ecclesiastics<a name="FNanchor_1_63" id= +"FNanchor_1_63" /><a href="#Footnote_1_63" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> mingling at court with Moorish freedmen and +Oriental odalisques, Apulian captains fraternising with Greek +corsairs, Jewish physicians in attendance on the person of the +prince, and Arabian poets eloquent in his praises. The very money +with which Roger subsidised his Italian allies was stamped with +Cuphic letters,<a name="FNanchor_2_64" id="FNanchor_2_64" /><a +href="#Footnote_2_64" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and there is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg307" id="pg307">307</a></span> +reason to believe that the reproach against Frederick of being a +false coiner arose from his adopting the Eastern device of plating +copper pieces to pass for silver. The commander of Roger's navies +and his chief minister of state was styled, according to Oriental +usage, Emir or Ammiraglio. George of Antioch, who swept the shores +of Africa, the Morea, and the Black Sea, in his service, was a +Christian of the Greek Church, who had previously held an office of +finance under Temin Prince of Mehdia. The workers in his silk +factories were slaves from Thebes and Corinth. The pages of his +palace were Sicilian or African eunuchs. His charters ran in Arabic +as well as Greek and Latin. His jewellers engraved the rough gems +of the Orient with Christian mottoes in Semitic characters.<a name= +"FNanchor_3_65" id="FNanchor_3_65" /><a href= +"#Footnote_3_65" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> His architects +were Mussulmans who adapted their native style to the requirements +of Christian ritual, and inscribed the walls of cathedrals with +Catholic legends in the Cuphic language. The predominant +characteristic of Palermo was Orientalism. Religious toleration was +extended to the Mussulmans, so that the two creeds, Christian and +Mahommedan, flourished side by side. The Saracens had their own +quarters in the towns, their mosques and schools, and Cadis for the +administration of petty justice. French and Italian women in +Palermo adopted the Oriental fashions of dress. The administration +of law and government was conducted on Eastern principles. In +nothing had the Mussulmans shown greater genius than in their +system of internal statecraft. Count Roger found a machinery of +taxation in full working order, officers acquainted with the +resources of the country, books and schedules constructed <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg308" id="pg308">308</a></span> on the +principles of strictest accuracy, a whole bureaucracy, in fact, +ready to his use. By applying this machinery he became the richest +potentate in Europe, at a time when the northern monarchs were +dependent upon feudal aids and precarious revenues from crown +lands. In the same way, the Saracens bequeathed to the Normans the +court system, which they in turn had derived from the princes of +Persia and the example of Constantinople. Roger found it convenient +to continue that organisation of pages, chamberlains, ushers, +secretaries, viziers, and masters of the wardrobe, invested each +with some authority of state according to his rank, which confined +the administration of an Eastern kingdom to the walls of the +palace.<a name="FNanchor_4_66" id="FNanchor_4_66" /><a href= +"#Footnote_4_66" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> At Palermo Europe +saw the first instance of a court not wholly unlike that which +Versailles afterwards became. The intrigues which endangered the +throne and liberty of William the Bad, and which perplexed the +policy of William the Good, were court-conspiracies of a kind +common enough at Constantinople. In this court life men of letters +and erudition played a first part three centuries before Petrarch +taught the princes of Italy to respect the pen of a poet.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_63" id="Footnote_1_63" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_63"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +English Gualterio Offamilio, or Walter of the Mill, Archbishop of +Palermo during the reign of William the Good, by his intrigues +brought about the match between Constance and Henry VI. Richard +Palmer at the same time was Bishop of Syracuse. Stephen des +Rotrous, a Frenchman of the Counts of Perche, preceded Walter of +the Mill in the Arch See of Palermo.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_64" id="Footnote_2_64" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_64"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +Frederick Barbarossa's soldiers are said to have bidden the Romans: +'Take this German iron in change for Arab gold. This pay your +master gives you, and this is how Franks win +empire.'—<i>Amari</i>, vol. iii. p. 468.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_65" id="Footnote_3_65" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_3_65"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The +embroidered skullcap of Constance of Aragon, wife of Frederick II., +in the sacristy of the cathedral at Palermo, is made of gold thread +thickly studded with pearls and jewels—rough sapphires and +carbuncles, among which may be noticed a red cornelian engraved in +Arabic with this sentence, 'In Christ, God, I put my hope.'</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_4_66" id="Footnote_4_66" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_4_66"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The +Arabic title of <i>Kâid</i>, which originally was given to a +subordinate captain of the guard, took a wide significance at the +Norman Court. Latinised to <i>gaytus</i>, and Grecised under the +form of κάιτος, it frequently +occurs in chronicles and diplomas to denote a high minister of +state. Matteo of Ajello, who exercised so powerful an influence +over the policy of William the Good, heading the Mussulman and +national party against the great ecclesiastics who were intriguing +to draw Sicily into the entanglements of European diplomacy, was a +Kâid. Matteo favoured the cause of Tancred, Walter of the +Mill espoused that of the Germans, during the war of succession +which followed upon William's death. The barons of the realm had to +range themselves under these two leaders—to such an extent +were the affairs of state in Sicily within the grasp of courtiers +and churchmen.</p> +</div> + +<p>King Roger, of whom the court geographer Edrisi writes <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg309" id="pg309">309</a></span> that 'he +did more sleeping than any other man waking,' was surrounded during +his leisure moments, beneath the palm-groves of Favara, with +musicians, historians, travellers, mathematicians, poets, and +astrologers of Oriental breeding. At his command Ptolemy's Optics +were translated into Latin from the Arabic. The prophecies of the +Erythrean Sibyl were rendered accessible in the same way. His +respect for the occult sciences was proved by his disinterring the +bones of Virgil from their resting-place at Posilippo, and placing +them in the Castel dell' Uovo in order that he might have access +through necromancy to the spirit of the Roman wizard. It may be +remembered in passing, that Palermo in one of her mosques already +held suspended between earth and air the supposed relics of +Aristotle. Such were the saints of modern culture in its earliest +dawning. While Venice was robbing Alexandria of the body of S. +Mark, Palermo and Naples placed themselves beneath the protection +of a philosopher and a poet. But Roger's greatest literary work was +the compilation of a treatise of universal geography. Fifteen years +were devoted to the task; and the manuscript, in Arabic, drawn up +by the philosopher Edrisi, appeared only six weeks before the +king's death in 1154. This book, called 'The Book of Roger, or the +Delight of whoso loves to make the Circuit of the World,' was based +upon the previous labours of twelve geographers, classical and +Mussulman. But aiming at greater accuracy than could be obtained by +a merely literary compilation, Roger caused pilgrims, travellers, +and merchants of all countries to be assembled for conference and +examination before him. Their accounts were sifted and collated. +Edrisi held the pen while Roger questioned. Measurements and +distances were carefully compared; and a vast silver disc was +constructed, on which all the seas, islands, continents, plains, +rivers, mountain ranges, cities, roads, and harbours of the <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg310" id="pg310">310</a></span> known +world were delineated. The text supplied an explanatory description +of this map, with tables of the products, habits, races, religions, +and qualities, both physical and moral, of all climates. The +precious metal upon which the map was drawn proved its ruin, and +the Geography remained in the libraries of Arab scholars. Yet this +was one of the first great essays of practical exploration and +methodical statistic, to which the genius of the Norseman and the +Arab each contributed a quota. The Arabians, by their primitive +nomadic habits, by the necessities of their system of taxation, by +their predilection for astrology, by their experience as pilgrims, +merchants, and poets errant, were specially qualified for the +labour of geographical investigation. Roger supplied the unbounded +curiosity and restless energy of his Scandinavian temper, the +kingly comprehensive intellect of his race, and the authority of a +prince who was powerful enough to compel the service of qualified +collaborators.</p> + +<p>The architectural works of the Normans in Palermo reveal the +same ascendency of Arab culture. San Giovanni degli Eremiti, with +its low white rounded domes, is nothing more or less than a little +mosque adapted to the rites of Christians.<a name="FNanchor_1_67" +id="FNanchor_1_67" /><a href="#Footnote_1_67" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> The country palaces of the Zisa and the Cuba, +built by the two Williams, retain their ancient Moorish character. +Standing beneath the fretted arches of the hall of the Zisa, +through which a fountain flows within a margin of carved marble, +and looking on the landscape from its open porch, we only need to +reconstruct in fancy the green gardens and orange-groves, where +fair-haired Normans whiled away their hours among black-eyed +odalisques and graceful singing boys from Persia. Amid a wild +tangle of olive and lemon trees overgrown with scarlet +passion-flowers, the pavilion of the Cubola, built of <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg311" id="pg311">311</a></span> hewn stone and +open at each of its four sides, still stands much as it stood when +William II. paced through flowers from his palace of the Cuba, to +enjoy the freshness of the evening by the side of its fountain. The +views from all these Saracenic villas over the fruitful valley of +the Golden Horn, and the turrets of Palermo, and the mountains and +the distant sea, are ineffably delightful. When the palaces were +new—when the gilding and the frescoes still shone upon their +honeycombed ceilings, when their mosaics glittered in noonday +twilight, and their amber-coloured masonry was set in shade of +pines and palms, and the cool sound of rivulets made music in their +courts and gardens, they must have well deserved their Arab titles +of 'Sweet Waters' and 'The Glory' and 'The Paradise of Earth.'</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_67" id="Footnote_1_67" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_67"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Tradition asserts that the tocsin of this church gave the signal in +Palermo to the massacre of the Sicilian Vespers.</p> +</div> + +<p>But the true splendour of Palermo, that which makes this city +one of the most glorious of the south, is to be sought in its +churches—in the mosaics of the Cappella Palatina founded by +King Roger, in the vast aisles and cloisters of Monreale built by +King William the Good at the instance of his Chancellor Matteo,<a +name="FNanchor_1_68" id="FNanchor_1_68" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_68" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> in the Cathedral +of Palermo begun by Offamilio, and in the Martorana dedicated by +George the Admiral. These triumphs of ecclesiastical architecture, +none the less splendid because they cannot be reduced to rule or +assigned to any single style, were the work of Saracen builders +assisted by Byzantine, Italian, and Norman craftsmen. The genius of +Latin Christianity determined the basilica shape of the Cathedral +of Monreale. Its bronze doors were wrought by smiths of Trani and +Pisa. Its walls were incrusted with the mosaics of Constantinople. +The woodwork of its roof, and the emblazoned patterns in porphyry +and serpentine and glass and smalto, which cover its whole surface, +were designed <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg312" id= +"pg312">312</a></span> by Oriental decorators. Norman sculptors +added their dog-tooth and chevron to the mouldings of its porches; +Greeks, Frenchmen, and Arabs may have tried their skill in turn +upon the multitudinous ornaments of its cloister capitals. 'The +like of which church,' said Lucius III. in 1182, 'hath not been +constructed by any king even from ancient times, and such an one as +must compel all men to admiration.' These words remain literally +and emphatically true. Other cathedrals may surpass that of +Monreale in sublimity, simplicity, bulk, strength, or unity of +plan. None can surpass it in the strange romance with which the +memory of its many artificers invests it. None again can exceed it +in richness and glory, in the gorgeousness of a thousand decorative +elements subservient to one controlling thought. 'It is evident,' +says Fergusson in his 'History of Architecture,' 'that all the +architectural features in the building were subordinate in the eyes +of the builders to the mosaic decorations, which cover every part +of the interior, and are in fact the glory and the pride of the +edifice, and alone entitle it to rank among the finest of +mediæval churches.' The whole of the Christian history is +depicted in this series of mosaics; but on first entering, one form +alone compels attention. The semi-dome of the eastern apse above +the high altar is entirely filled with a gigantic half-length +figure of Christ. He raises His right hand to bless, and with His +left holds an open book on which is written in Greek and Latin, 'I +am the Light of the world.' His face is solemn and severe, rather +than mild or piteous; and round His nimbus runs the legend +Ιησους +Χριστος 'ο +παντοκράτωρ. +Below Him on a smaller scale are ranged the archangels and the +mother of the Lord, who holds the child upon her knees. Thus Christ +appears twice upon this wall, once as the Omnipotent Wisdom, the +Word by whom all things were made, and once as God deigning to +assume a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg313" id= +"pg313">313</a></span> shape of flesh and dwell with men. The +magnificent image of supreme Deity seems to fill with a single +influence and to dominate the whole building. The house with all +its glory is His. He dwells there like Pallas in her Parthenon or +Zeus in his Olympian temple. To left and right over every square +inch of the cathedral blaze mosaics, which portray the story of +God's dealings with the human race from the Creation downwards, +together with those angelic beings and saints who symbolise each in +his own degree some special virtue granted to mankind. The walls of +the fane are therefore an open book of history, theology, and +ethics for all men to read.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_68" id="Footnote_1_68" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_68"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Matteo +of Ajello induced William to found an archbishopric at Monreale in +order to spite his rival Offamilio.</p> +</div> + +<p>The superiority of mosaics over fresco as an architectural +adjunct on this gigantic scale is apparent at a glance in Monreale. +Permanency of splendour and glowing richness of tone are all on the +side of the mosaics. Their true rival is painted glass. The +jewelled churches of the south are constructed for the display of +coloured surfaces illuminated by sunlight falling on them from +narrow windows, just as those of the north—Rheims, for +example, or Le Mans—are built for the transmission of light +through a variegated medium of transparent hues. The painted +windows of a northern cathedral find their proper counterpart in +the mosaics of the south. The Gothic architect strove to obtain the +greatest amount of translucent surface. The Byzantine builder +directed his attention to securing just enough light for the +illumination of his glistening walls. The radiance of the northern +church was similar to that of flowers or sunset clouds or jewels. +The glory of the southern temple was that of dusky gold and +gorgeous needlework. The north needed acute brilliancy as a +contrast to external greyness. The south found rest from the glare +and glow of noonday in these sombre splendours. Thus Christianity, +both of the south and of the north, decked <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg314" id="pg314">314</a></span> her shrines with colour. Not +so the Paganism of Hellas. With the Greeks, colour, though used in +architecture, was severely subordinated to sculpture; toned and +modified to a calculated harmony with actual nature, it did not, as +in a Christian church, create a world beyond the world, a paradise +of supersensual ecstasy, but remained within the limits of the +known. Light falling upon carved forms of gods and heroes, bathing +clear-cut columns and sharp basreliefs in simple lustre, was enough +for the Phoebean rites of Hellas. Though we know that red and blue +and green and gilding were employed to accentuate the mouldings of +Greek temples, yet neither the gloomy glory of mosaics nor the +gemmed fretwork of storied windows was needed to attune the souls +of Hellenic worshippers to devotion.</p> + +<p>Less vast than Monreale, but even more beautiful, because the +charm of mosaic increases in proportion as the surface it covers +may be compared to the interior of a casket, is the Cappella +Palatina of the royal palace in Palermo. Here, again, the whole +design and ornament are Arabo-Byzantine. Saracenic pendentives with +Cuphic legends incrust the richly painted ceiling of the nave. The +roofs of the apses and the walls are coated with mosaics, in which +the Bible history, from the dove that brooded over Chaos to the +lives of S. Peter and S. Paul, receives a grand though formal +presentation. Beneath the mosaics are ranged slabs of grey marble, +edged and divided with delicate patterns of inserted glass, +resembling drapery with richly embroidered fringes. The floor is +inlaid with circles of serpentine and porphyry encased in white +marble, and surrounded by winding bands of Alexandrine work. Some +of these patterns are restricted to the five tones of red, green, +white, black, and pale yellow. Others add turquoise blue, and +emerald, and scarlet, and gold. Not a square inch of the +surface—floor, roof, walls, or <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg315" id="pg315">315</a></span> cupola—is free from +exquisite gemmed work of precious marbles. A candelabrum of +fanciful design, combining lions devouring men and beasts, cranes, +flowers, and winged genii, stands by the pulpit. Lamps of chased +silver hang from the roof. The cupola blazes with gigantic +archangels, stationed in a ring beneath the supreme figure and face +of Christ. Some of the Ravenna churches are more historically +interesting, perhaps, than this little masterpiece of the mosaic +art. But none is so rich in detail and lustrous in effect. It +should be seen at night, when the lamps are lighted in a pyramid +around the sepulchre of the dead Christ on Holy Thursday, when +partial gleams strike athwart the tawny gold of the arches, and +fall upon the profile of a priest declaiming in voluble Italian to +a listening crowd.</p> + +<p>Such are a few of the monuments which still remain to show of +what sort was the mixed culture of Normans, Saracens, Italians, and +Greeks at Palermo. In scenes like these the youth of Frederick II. +was passed:—for at the end, while treating of Palermo, we are +bound to think again of the Emperor who inherited from his German +father the ambition of the Hohenstauffens, and from his Norman +mother the fair fields and Oriental traditions of Sicily. The +strange history of Frederick—an intellect of the eighteenth +century born out of date, a cosmopolitan spirit in the age of Saint +Louis, the crusader who conversed with Moslem sages on the +threshold of the Holy Sepulchre, the Sultan of Lucera<a name= +"FNanchor_1_69" id="FNanchor_1_69" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_69" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> who persecuted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg316" id="pg316">316</a></span> +Paterini while he respected the superstition of Saracens, the +anointed successor of Charlemagne, who carried his harem with him +to the battlefields of Lombardy, and turned Infidels loose upon the +provinces of Christ's Vicar—would be inexplicable, were it +not that Palermo still reveals in all her monuments the <i>genius +loci</i> which gave spiritual nurture to this phoenix among kings. +From his Mussulman teachers Frederick derived the philosophy to +which he gave a vogue in Europe. From his Arabian predecessors he +learnt the arts of internal administration and finance, which he +transmitted to the princes of Italy. In imitation of Oriental +courts, he adopted the practice of verse composition, which gave +the first impulse to Italian literature. His Grand Vizier, Piero +Delle Vigne, set an example to Petrarch, not only by composing the +first sonnet in Italian, but also by showing to what height a +low-born secretary versed in art and law might rise. In a word, the +zeal for liberal studies, the luxury of life, the religious +indifferentism, the bureaucratic system of state government, which +mark the age of the Italian Renaissance, found their first +manifestation within the bosom of the Middle Ages in Frederick. +While our King John was signing Magna Charta, Frederick had already +lived long enough to comprehend, at least in outline, what is meant +by the spirit of modern culture.<a name="FNanchor_2_70" id= +"FNanchor_2_70" /><a href="#Footnote_2_70" class= +"fnanchor">[2]</a> It is true that the so-called Renaissance +followed slowly and by tortuous paths upon the death of Frederick. +The Church obtained a complete victory over his family, and +succeeded in extinguishing the civilisation of Sicily. Yet the fame +of the Emperor who transmitted <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"pg317" id="pg317">317</a></span> questions of sceptical philosophy +to Arab sages, who conversed familiarly with men of letters, who +loved splendour and understood the arts of refined living, survived +both long and late in Italy. His power, his wealth, his liberality +of soul and lofty aspirations, formed the theme of many a tale and +poem. Dante places him in hell among the heresiarchs; and truly the +splendour of his supposed infidelity found for him a goodly +following. Yet Dante dated the rise of Italian literature from the +blooming period of the Sicilian court. Frederick's unorthodoxy +proved no drawback to his intellectual influence. More than any +other man of mediæval times he contributed, if only as the +memory of a mighty name, to the progress of civilised humanity.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_69" id="Footnote_1_69" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_69"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Charles +of Anjou gave this nickname to Manfred, who carried on the +Siculo-Norman tradition. Frederick, it may here be mentioned, had +transferred his Saracen subjects of the vale of Mazara to Lucera in +the Capitanate. He employed them as trusty troops in his warfare +with the Popes and preaching friars. Nothing shows the confusion of +the century in matters ecclesiastical and religious more curiously +than that Frederick, who conducted a crusade and freed the Holy +Sepulchre, should not only have tolerated the religion of +Mussulmans, but also have armed them against the Head of the +Church. What we are apt to regard as religious questions really +belonged at that period to the sphere of politics.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_70" id="Footnote_2_70" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_70"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It is +curious to note that in this year 1215, the date of Magna Charta, +Frederick took the Cross at Aix-la-Chapelle.</p> +</div> + +<p>Let us take leave both of Frederick and of Palermo, that centre +of converging influences which was his cradle, in the cathedral +where he lies gathered to his fathers. This church, though its rich +sunbrowned yellow<a name="FNanchor_1_71" id="FNanchor_1_71" /><a +href="#Footnote_1_71" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> reminds one +of the tone of Spanish buildings, is like nothing one has seen +elsewhere. Here even more than at Monreale the eye is struck with a +fusion of styles. The western towers are grouped into something +like the clustered sheafs of the Caen churches: the windows present +Saracenic arches: the southern porch is covered with foliated +incrustations of a late and decorative Gothic style: the exterior +of the apse combines Arabic inlaid patterns of black and yellow +with the Greek honeysuckle: the western door adds Norman dog-tooth +and chevron to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg318" id= +"pg318">318</a></span> Saracenic billet. Nowhere is any one +tradition firmly followed. The whole wavers and yet is +beautiful—like the immature eclecticism of the culture which +Frederick himself endeavoured to establish in his southern +kingdoms. Inside there is no such harmony of blended voices: all +the strange tongues, which speak together on the outside, making up +a music in which the far North, and ancient Byzance, and the +delicate East sound each a note, are hushed. The frigid silence of +the Palladian style reigns there—simple indeed and dignified, +but lifeless as the century in which it flourished.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_71" id="Footnote_1_71" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_71"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Nearly +all cities have their own distinctive colour. That of Venice is a +pearly white suggestive of every hue in delicate abeyance, and that +of Florence is a sober brown. Palermo displays a rich yellow ochre +passing at the deepest into orange, and at the lightest into +primrose. This is the tone of the soil, of sun-stained marble, and +of the rough ashlar masonry of the chief buildings. Palermo has +none of the glaring whiteness of Naples, nor yet of that +particoloured gradation of tints which adds gaiety to the grandeur +of Genoa.</p> +</div> + +<p>Yet there, in a side chapel near the western door, stand the +porphyry sarcophagi which shrine the bones of the Hautevilles and +their representatives. There sleeps King Roger—'Dux strenuus +et primus Rex Siciliæ'—with his daughter Constance in +her purple chest beside him. Henry VI. and Frederick II. and +Constance of Aragon complete the group, which surpasses for +interest all sepulchral monuments—even the tombs of the +Scaligers at Verona—except only, perhaps, the statues of the +nave of Innspruck. Very sombre and stately are these porphyry +resting-places of princes born in the purple, assembled here from +lands so distant—from the craggy heights of Hohenstauffen, +from the green orchards of Cotentin, from the dry hills of Aragon. +They sleep, and the centuries pass by. Rude hands break open the +granite lids of their sepulchres, to find tresses of yellow hair +and fragments of imperial mantles, embroidered with the hawks and +stags the royal hunter loved. The church in which they lie changes +with the change of taste in architecture and the manners of +successive ages. But the huge stone arks remain unmoved, guarding +their freight of mouldering dust beneath gloomy canopies of stone +that temper the sunlight as it streams from the chapel windows.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg319" id= +"pg319">319</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="SYRACUSE" id="SYRACUSE" /><i>SYRACUSE AND +GIRGENTI</i></h3> + +<p>The traveller in Sicily is constantly reminded of classical +history and literature. While tossing, it may be, at anchor in the +port of Trapani, and wondering when the tedious Libeccio will +release him, he must perforce remember that here Æneas +instituted the games for Anchises. Here Mnestheus and Gyas and +Sergestus and Cloanthus raced their galleys: on yonder little isle +the Centaur struck; and that was the rock which received the +dripping Menoetes:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Illum et labentem Teucri et risere natantem,</div> + +<div class="i4">Et salsos rident revomentem pectore fluctus.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Or crossing a broken bridge at night in the lumbering diligence, +guarded by infantry with set bayonets, and wondering on which side +of the ravine the brigands are in ambush, he suddenly calls to mind +that this torrent was the ancient Halycus, the border between +Greeks and Carthaginians, established of old, and ratified by +Timoleon after the battle of the Crimisus. Among the bare grey +hills of Segeste his thoughts revert to that strange story told by +Herodotus of Philippus, the young soldier of Crotona, whose beauty +was so great, that when the Segesteans found him slain among their +foes, they raised the corpse and burned it on a pyre of honour, and +built a hero's temple over the urn that held his ashes. The first +sight of Etna makes us cry with Theocritus, +Αιτνα <a name="pg320" id="pg320"></a><span +class="pagenum">320</span> ματερ +εμά....πολυδένδρεος +Αιτνα. The solemn heights of Castro +Giovanni bring lines of Ovid to our lips:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Haud procul Hennæis lacus est a moenibu +altæ</div> + +<div class="i4">Nomine Pergus aquæ. Non illo plura +Caystros</div> + +<div class="i4">Carmina cygnorum labentibus audit in undis.</div> + +<div class="i4">Silva coronat aquas, cingens latus omne; +suisque</div> + +<div class="i4">Frondibus ut velo Phoebeos summovet ignes.</div> + +<div class="i4">Frigora dant rami, Tyrios humus humida +flores.</div> + +<div class="i4">Perpetnum ver est.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>We look indeed in vain for the leafy covert and the purple +flowers that tempted Proserpine. The place is barren now: two +solitary cypress-trees mark the road which winds downwards from a +desolate sulphur mine, and the lake is clearly the crater of an +extinct volcano. Yet the voices of old poets are not mute. 'The +rich Virgilian rustic measure' recalls a long-since buried past. +Even among the wavelets of the Faro we remember Homer, scanning the +shore if haply somewhere yet may linger the wild fig-tree which +saved Ulysses from the whirlpool of Charybdis. At any rate we +cannot but exclaim with Goethe, 'Now all these coasts, gulfs, and +creeks, islands and peninsulas, rocks and sand-banks, wooded hills, +soft meadows, fertile fields, neat gardens, hanging grapes, cloudy +mountains, constant cheerfulness of plains, cliffs and ridges, and +the surrounding sea, with such manifold variety are present in my +mind; now is the "Odyssey" for the first time become to me a living +world.'</p> + +<p>But rich as the whole of Sicily may be in classical +associations, two places, Syracuse and Girgenti, are pre-eminent +for the power of bringing the Greek past forcibly before us. Their +interest is of two very different kinds. Girgenti still displays +the splendour of temples placed upon a rocky cornice between sea +and olive-groves. Syracuse has nothing to show but the scene of +world-important actions. Yet the great deeds <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg321" id="pg321">321</a></span> recorded by +Thucydides, the conflict between eastern and western Hellas which +ended in the annihilation of the bright, brief, brilliant reality +of Athenian empire, remain so clearly written on the hills and +harbours and marshlands of Syracuse that no place in the world is +topographically more memorable. The artist, whether architect, or +landscape-painter, or poet, finds full enjoyment at Girgenti. The +historian must be exacting indeed in his requirements if he is not +satisfied with Syracuse.</p> + +<p>What has become of Syracuse, 'the greatest of Greek cities and +the fairest of all cities' even in the days of Cicero? Scarcely one +stone stands upon another of all those temples and houses. The five +towns which were included by the walls have now shrunk to the +little island which the first settlers named Ortygia, where the +sacred fountain of Arethusa seemed to their home-loving hearts to +have followed them from Hellas.<a name="FNanchor_1_72" id= +"FNanchor_1_72" /><a href="#Footnote_1_72" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> Nothing survives but a few columns of Athene's +temple built into a Christian church, with here and there the +marble masonry of a bath or the Roman stonework of an amphitheatre. +There are not even any mounds or deep deposits of rubble mixed with +pottery to show here once a town had been.<a name="FNanchor_2_73" +id="FNanchor_2_73" /><a href="#Footnote_2_73" class= +"fnanchor">[2]</a> <i>Etiam periere ruinæ.</i> The vast city, +devastated for the last time by the Saracens in 878 A.D., has been +reduced to dust and swept by the scirocco into the sea. This is the +explanation of its utter ruin. The stone of Syracuse is friable and +easily disintegrated. The petulant moist wind of the south-east +corrodes its surface; and when it falls, it crumbles to <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg322" id="pg322">322</a></span> powder. +Here, then, the elements have had their will unchecked by such +sculptured granite as in Egypt resists the mounded sand of the +desert, or by such marble colonnades as in Athens have calmly borne +the insults of successive sieges. What was hewn out of the solid +rock—the semicircle of the theatre, the street of the tombs +with its deeply dented chariot-ruts, the gigantic quarries from +which the material of the metropolis was scooped, the catacombs +which burrow for miles underground—alone prove how mighty +must have been the Syracuse of Dionysius. Truly 'the iniquity of +oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of +men without distinction to merit of perpetuity.' Standing on the +beach of the Great Harbour or the Bay of Thapsus, we may repeat +almost word by word Antipater's solemn lament over +Corinth:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Where is thy splendour now, thy crown of +towers,</div> + +<div class="i6">Thy beauty visible to all men's eyes,</div> + +<div class="i6">The gold and silver of thy treasuries,</div> + +<div class="i4">Thy temples of blest gods, thy woven bowers</div> + +<div class="i4">Where long-stoled ladies walked in tranquil +hours,</div> + +<div class="i6">Thy multitudes like stars that crowd the +skies?</div> + +<div class="i6">All, all are gone. Thy desolation lies</div> + +<div class="i4">Bare to the night. The elemental powers</div> + +<div class="i4">Resume their empire: on this lonely shore</div> + +<div class="i6">Thy deathless Nereids, daughters of the sea,</div> + +<div class="i6">Wailing 'mid broken stones unceasingly,</div> + +<div class="i4">Like halcyons when the restless south winds +roar,</div> + +<div class="i4">Sing the sad story of thy woes of yore:</div> + +<div class="i6">These plunging waves are all that's left to +thee.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Time, however, though he devours his children, cannot utterly +destroy either the written record of illustrious deeds or the +theatre of their enactment. Therefore, with Thucydides in hand, we +may still follow the events of that Syracusan siege which decided +the destinies of Greece, and by the fall of <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg323" id="pg323">323</a></span> Athens, raised +Sparta, Macedonia, and finally Rome to the hegemony of the +civilised world.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_72" id="Footnote_1_72" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_72"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The +fountain of Arethusa, recently rescued from the washerwomen of +Syracuse, is shut off from the Great Harbour by a wall and planted +with papyrus. Taste has not been displayed in the bear-pit +architecture of its circular enclosure.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_73" id="Footnote_2_73" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_73"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This is +not strictly true of Achradina, where some <i>débris</i> may +still be found worth excavating.</p> +</div> + +<p>There are few students of Thucydides and Grote who would not be +surprised by the small scale of the cliffs, and the gentle incline +of Epipolæ—the rising ground above the town of +Syracuse, upon the slope of which the principal operations of the +Athenian siege took place.<a name="FNanchor_1_74" id= +"FNanchor_1_74" /><a href="#Footnote_1_74" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> Maps, and to some extent also the language of +Thucydides, who talks of the +προσβάσεις +or practicable approaches to Epipolæ, and the +κρημνοι, or precipices by which +it was separated from the plain, would lead one to suppose that the +whole region was on each hand rocky and abrupt. In reality it is +extremely difficult to distinguish the rising ground of +Epipolæ upon the southern side from the plain, so very +gradual is the line of ascent and so comparatively even is the +rocky surface of the hill. Thucydides, in narrating the night +attack of Demosthenes upon the lines of Gylippus (book vii. 43-45), +lays stress upon the necessity of approaching Epipolæ from +the western side by Euryâlus, and again asserts that during +the hurried retreat of the Athenians great numbers died by leaping +from the cliffs, while still more had to throw away their armour. +At this time the Athenian army was encamped upon the shore of the +Great Harbour, and held trenches and a wall that stretched from +that side at least halfway across Epipolæ. It seems therefore +strange that, unless their movements were impeded by counterworks +and lines of walls, of which we have no information, the troops of +Demosthenes should not, at least in their retreat, have been able +to pour down over the gentle <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg324" +id="pg324">324</a></span> descent of Epipolæ toward the +Anapus, instead of returning to Euryâlus. Anyhow, we can +scarcely discern cliffs of more than ten feet upon the southern +slope of Epipolæ, nor can we understand why the Athenians +should have been forced to take these in their line of retreat. +There must have been some artificial defences of which we read +nothing, and of which no traces now remain, but which were +sufficient to prevent them from choosing their ground. Slight +difficulties of this kind raise the question whether the wonderful +clearness of Thucydides in detail was really the result of personal +observation, or whether his graphic style enabled him to give the +appearance of scrupulous accuracy. I incline to think that the +author of the sixth and seventh books of the History must have +visited Syracuse, and that if we could see his own map of +Epipolæ, we should better be able to understand the +difficulties of the backward night march of Demosthenes, by +discovering that there was some imperative necessity for not +descending, as seems natural, upon the open slope of the hill to +the south. The position of Euryâlus at the extreme point +called Mongibellisi is clear enough. Here the ground, which has +been continually rising from the plateau of Achradina (the northern +suburb of Syracuse), comes to an abrupt finish. Between +Mongibellisi and the Belvedere hill beyond there is a deep +depression, and the slope to Euryâlus either from the south +or north is gradual. It was a gross piece of neglect on the part of +Nikias not to have fortified this spot on his first investment of +Epipolæ, instead of choosing Labdalum, which, wherever we may +place it, must have been lower down the hill to the east. For +Euryâlus is the key to Epipolæ. It was here that Nikias +himself ascended in the first instance, and that afterwards he +permitted Gylippus to enter and raise the siege, and lastly that +Demosthenes, by overpowering the insufficient Syracusan guard, got +at night within the lines of <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg325" +id="pg325">325</a></span> the Spartan general. Thus the three most +important movements of the siege were made upon Euryâlus. +Dionysius, when he enclosed Epipolæ with walls, recognised +the value of the point, and fortified it with the castle which +remains, and to which, as Colonel Leake believes, Archimedes, at +the order of Hiero II., made subsequent additions. This castle is +one of the most interesting Greek ruins extant. A little repair +would make it even now a substantial place of defence, according to +Greek tactics. Its deep foss is cut in the solid rock, and +furnished with subterranean magazines for the storage of +provisions. The three piles of solid masonry on which the +drawbridge rested, still stand in the centre of this ditch. The +oblique grand entrance to the foss descends by a flight of well-cut +steps. The rock itself over which the fort was raised is +honeycombed with excavated passages for infantry and cavalry, of +different width and height, so that one sort can be assigned to +mounted horsemen and another to foot soldiers. The trap-doors which +led from these galleries into the fortress are provided with rests +for ladders that could be let down to help a sallying force or +drawn up to impede an advancing enemy. The inner court for stabled +horses and the stations for the catapults are still in tolerable +preservation. Thus the whole arrangement of the stronghold can be +traced not dimly but distinctly. Being placed on the left side of +the chief gate of Epipolæ, the occupants of the fort could +issue to attack a foe advancing toward that gate in the rear. At +the same time the subterranean galleries enabled them to pour out +upon the other side, if the enemy had forced an entrance, while the +minor passages and trap-doors provided a retreat in case the +garrison were overpowered in one of their offensive operations. The +view from Euryâlus is extensive. To the left rises Etna, +snowy, solitary, broadly vast, above the plain of Catania, the +curving shore, Thapsus, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg326" id= +"pg326">326</a></span> and the sea. Syracuse itself, a thin white +line between the harbour and the open sea, a dazzling streak +between two blues, terminates the slope of Epipolæ, and on +the right hand stretch the marshes of Anapus rich with vines and +hoary with olives.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_74" id="Footnote_1_74" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_74"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Epipolæ is in shape a pretty regular isosceles triangle, of +which the apex is Mongibellisi or Euryâlus, and the base +Achradina or the northern quarter of the ancient city. Thucydides +describes it as χωρίου +αποκρήμνου +τε και υπερ +της πόλεως +ευθυς +κειμένου... +εξήρτηται +γαρ το αλλο +χωρίον και +μέχρι της +πόλεως +επικλινές +τέ εστι και +επιφανες παν +εισο και +ωνομαστα +υπυ τον +Συρακοσίων +δια το +επιπολης +του αλλου +ειναι +Επιπολαι (vi. +96).]</p> +</div> + +<p>By far the most interesting localities of Syracuse are the Great +Harbour and the stone quarries. When the sluggish policy and faint +heart of Nikias had brought the Athenians to the verge of ruin, +when Gylippus had entered the besieged city, and Plemmyrium had +been wrested from the invaders, and Demosthenes had failed in his +attack upon Epipolæ, and the blockading trenches had been +finally evacuated, no hope remained for the armament of Athens +except only in retreat by water. They occupied a palisaded +encampment upon the shore of the harbour, between the mouth of the +Anapus and the city; whence they attempted to force their way with +their galleys to the open sea. Hitherto the Athenians had been +supreme upon their own element; but now the Syracusans adopted +tactics suited to the narrow basin in which the engagements had to +take place. Building their vessels with heavy beaks, they crushed +the lighter craft of the Athenians, which had no room for flank +movements and rapid evolutions. A victory was thus obtained by the +Syracusan navy; the harbour was blockaded with chains by the order +of Gylippus; the Athenians were driven back to their palisades upon +the fever-haunted shore. Their only chance seemed to depend upon a +renewal of the sea-fight in the harbour. The supreme moment +arrived. What remained of the Athenian fleet, in numbers still +superior to that of their enemies, steered straight for the mouth +of the harbour. The Syracusans advanced from the naval stations of +Ortygia to meet them. The shore was thronged with spectators, +Syracusans tremulous with the expectation of a decisive success, +Athenians on the tenter-hooks <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg327" +id="pg327">327</a></span> of hope and dread. In a short time the +harbour became a confused mass of clashing triremes; the water +beaten into bloody surf by banks of oars; the air filled with +shouts from the combatants and exclamations from the lookers-on: +ολοφυρμός, +βοή, +νικοντες, +κρατούμενοι, +αλλα οσα εν +μεγάλω +κινδύνω μέγα +στρατόπεδον +πολυειδη +αναγκάζοιτο +φθέγγεσθαι. +Then after a struggle, in which desperation gave energy to the +Athenians, and ambitious hope inspired their foes with more than +wonted vigour, the fleet of the Athenians was finally overwhelmed. +The whole scene can be reproduced with wonderful distinctness; for +the low shores of Plemmyrium, the city of Ortygia, the marsh of +Lysimeleia, the hills above the Anapus, and the distant dome of +Etna, are the same as they were upon that memorable day. Nothing +has disappeared except the temple of Zeus Olympius and the +buildings of Temenitis.</p> + +<p>What followed upon the night of that defeat is less easily +realised. Thucydides, however, by one touch reveals the depth of +despair to which the Athenians had sunk. They neglected to rescue +the bodies of their dead from the Great Harbour, or to ask for a +truce, according to hallowed Greek usage, in order that they might +perform the funeral rites. To such an extent was the army +demoralised. Meanwhile within the city the Syracusans kept high +festival, honouring their patron Herakles, upon whose day it +happened that the battle had been fought. Nikias neglected this +opportunity of breaking up his camp and retiring unmolested into +the interior of the island. When after the delay of two nights and +a day he finally began to move, the Syracusans had blockaded the +roads. How his own division capitulated by the blood-stained banks +of the Asinarus after a six days' march of appalling misery, and +how that of Demosthenes surrendered in the olive-field of +Polyzelus, is too well known.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg328" id="pg328">328</a></span> +One of the favourite excursions from modern Syracuse takes the +traveller in a boat over the sandy bar of the Anapus, beneath the +old bridge which joined the Helorine road to the city, and up the +river to its junction with the Cyane. This is the ground traversed +by the army first in their attempted flight and then in their +return as captives to Syracuse. Few, perhaps, who visit the spot, +think as much of that last act in a world-historical tragedy, as of +the picturesque compositions made by arundo donax, castor-oil +plant, yellow flags, and papyrus, on the river-banks and +promontories. Like miniature palm-groves these water-weeds stand +green and golden against the bright blue sky, feathering above the +boat which slowly pushes its way through clinging reeds. The huge +red oxen of Sicily in the marsh on either hand toss their spreading +horns and canter off knee-deep in ooze. Then comes the fountain of +Cyane, a broad round well of water, thirty feet in depth, but quite +clear, so that you can see the pebbles at the bottom and fishes +swimming to and fro among the weeds. Papyrus plants edge the pool; +thick and tufted, they are exactly such as one sees carved or +painted upon Egyptian architecture of the Ptolemaic period.</p> + +<p>With Thucydides still in hand, before quitting Syracuse we must +follow the Athenian captives to their prison-grave. The Latomia de' +Cappuccini is a place which it is impossible to describe in words, +and of which no photographs give any notion. Sunk to the depth of a +hundred feet below the level of the soil, with sides perpendicular +and in many places as smooth as though the chisel had just passed +over them, these vast excavations produce the impression of some +huge subterranean gallery, widening here and there into spacious +halls, the whole of which has been unroofed and opened to the air +of heaven. It is a solemn and romantic labyrinth, where no wind +blows rudely, and where orange-trees shoot <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg329" id="pg329">329</a></span> upward luxuriantly to meet +the light. The wild fig bursts from the living rock, mixed with +lentisk-shrubs and pendent caper-plants. Old olives split the +masses of fallen cliff with their tough, snakelike, slowly corded +and compacted roots. Thin flames of pomegranate-flowers gleam amid +foliage of lustrous green; and lemons drop unheeded from femininely +fragile branches. There too the ivy hangs in long festoons, waving +like tapestry to the breath of stealthy breezes; while under foot +is a tangle of acanthus, thick curling leaves of glossiest green, +surmounted by spikes of dull lilac blossoms. Wedges and columns and +sharp teeth of the native rock rear themselves here and there in +the midst of the open spaces to the sky, worn fantastically into +notches and saws by the action of scirocco. A light yellow calcined +by the sun to white is the prevailing colour of the quarries. But +in shady places the limestone takes a curious pink tone of great +beauty, like the interior of some sea-shells. The reflected lights +too, and half-shadows in their scooped-out chambers, make a +wonderful natural chiaroscuro. The whole scene is now more +picturesque in a sublime and grandiose style than forbidding. There +is even one spot planted with magenta-coloured mesembrianthemums of +dazzling brightness; and the air is loaded with the drowsy perfume +of lemon-blossoms. Yet this is the scene of a great agony. This +garden was once the Gethsemane of a nation, where 9000 free men of +the proudest city of Greece were brought by an unexampled stroke of +fortune to slavery, shame, and a miserable end. Here they dwindled +away, worn out by wounds, disease, thirst, hunger, heat by day and +cold by night, heart-sickness, and the insufferable stench of +putrefying corpses. The pupils of Socrates, the admirers of +Euripides, the orators of the Pnyx, the athletes of the Lyceum, +lovers and comrades and philosophers, died here like dogs; and the +dames of Syracuse stood doubtless on those parapets <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg330" id="pg330">330</a></span> above, and +looked upon them like wild beasts. What the Gorgo of Theocritus +might have said to her friend Praxinoe on the occasion would be the +subject for an idyll <i>à la</i> Browning! How often, pining +in those great glaring pits, which were not then curtained with ivy +or canopied by olive-trees, must the Athenians have thought with +vain remorse of their own Rhamnusian Nemesis, the goddess who held +scales adverse to the hopes of men, and bore the legend 'Be not +lifted up'! How often must they have watched the dawn walk forth +fire-footed upon the edge of those bare crags, or the stars slide +from east to west across the narrow space of sky! How they must +have envied the unfettered clouds sailing in liquid ether, or +traced the far flight of hawk and swallow, sighing, 'Oh that I too +had the wings of a bird!' The weary eyes turned upwards found no +change or respite, save what the frost of night brought to the fire +of day, and the burning sun to the pitiless cold +constellations.</p> + +<p>A great painter, combining Doré's power over space and +distance with the distinctness of Flaxman's design and the +colouring of Alma Tadema, might possibly realise this agony of the +Athenian captives in the stone quarries. The time of day chosen for +the picture should be full noon, with its glare of light and +sharply defined vertical shadows. The crannies in the straight +sides of the quarry should here and there be tufted with a few +dusty creepers and wild fig-trees. On the edge of the sky-line +stand parties of Syracusan citizens with their wives and children, +shaded by umbrellas, richly dressed, laughing and triumphing over +the misery beneath. In the full foreground there are placed two +figures. A young Athenian has just died of fever. His body lies +stretched along the ground, the head resting on a stone, and the +face turned to the sky. Beside him kneels an older warrior, +sunburned and dry with thirst, but full as yet of vigour. He stares +with <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg331" id= +"pg331">331</a></span> wide despair-smitten eyes straight out, as +though he had lately been stretched upon the corpse, but had risen +at the sound of movement, or some supposed word of friends close +by. His bread lies untasted near him, and the half-pint of +water—his day's portion—has been given to bathe the +forehead of his dying friend. They have stood together through the +festival of leave-taking from Peiræus, through the battles of +Epipolæ, through the retreat and the slaughter at the passage +of the Asinarus. But now it has come to this, and death has found +the younger. Perhaps the friend beside him remembers some cool +wrestling-ground in far-off Athens, or some procession up the steps +of the Acropolis, where first they met. Anyhow his fixed gaze now +shows that he has passed in thought at least beyond the hell around +him. Not far behind should be ranged groups of haggard men, with +tattered clothes and dulled or tigerish eyes, some dignified, some +broken down by grief; while here and there newly fallen corpses, +and in one hideous corner a great heap of abandoned dead, should +point the ghastly words of Thucydides: τον +νεκρον ομου +επ' +αλλήλοις +ξυννενημένων.</p> + +<p>Every landscape has some moment of its own at which it should be +seen for the first time. Mediæval cities, with their narrow +streets and solemn spires, demand the twilight of a summer night. +Mediterranean islands show their best in the haze of afternoon, +when sea and sky and headland are bathed in aërial blue, and +the mountains seem to be made of transparent amethyst. The first +sight of the Alps should be taken at sunset from some point of +vantage, like the terrace at Berne, or the castle walls of +Salzburg. If these fortunate moments be secured, all after +knowledge of locality and detail serves to fortify and deepen the +impression of picturesque harmony. The mind has then conceived a +leading thought, which gives ideal unity to scattered memories and +invests the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg332" id= +"pg332">332</a></span> crude reality with an æsthetic beauty. +The lucky moment for the landscape of Girgenti is half an hour past +sunset in a golden afterglow. Landing at the port named after +Empedocles, having caught from the sea some glimpses of +temple-fronts emergent on green hill-slopes among almond-trees, +with Pindar's epithet of 'splendour-loving' in my mind, I rode on +such an evening up the path which leads across the Drago to +Girgenti. The way winds through deep-sunk lanes of rich amber +sandstone, hedged with cactus and dwarf-palm, and set with old +gnarled olive-trees. As the sunlight faded, Venus shone forth in a +luminous sky, and the deep yellows and purples overhead seemed to +mingle with the heavy scent of orange-flowers from scarcely visible +groves by the roadside. Saffron in the west and violet in the east +met midway, composing a translucent atmosphere of mellow radiance, +like some liquid gem—<i>dolce color d' oriental berillo</i>. +Girgenti, far off and far up, gazing seaward, and rearing her +topaz-coloured bastions into that gorgeous twilight, shone like the +aërial vision of cities seen in dreams or imaged in the +clouds. Hard and sharp against the sallow line of sunset, leaned +grotesque shapes of cactuses like hydras, and delicate silhouettes +of young olive-trees like sylphs: the river ran silver in the +hollow, and the mountain-side on which the town is piled was solid +gold. Then came the dirty dull interior of Girgenti, misnamed the +magnificent. But no disenchantment could destroy the memory of that +vision, and Pindar's +φιλάγλαος +Ακράγας remains in my mind +a reality.<a name="FNanchor_1_75" id="FNanchor_1_75" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_75" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_75" id="Footnote_1_75" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_75"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Lest I +should seem to have overstated the splendour of this sunset view, I +must remark that the bare dry landscape of the south is peculiarly +fortunate in such effects. The local tint of the Girgenti rock is +yellow. The vegetation on the hillside is sparse. There is nothing +to prevent the colours of the sky being reflected upon the vast +amber-tinted surface, which then glows with indescribable +glory.</p> +</div> + +<p>The temples of Girgenti are at the distance of two miles <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg333" id="pg333">333</a></span> from the +modern town. Placed upon the edge of an irregular plateau which +breaks off abruptly into cliffs of moderate height below them, they +stand in a magnificent row between the sea and plain on one side, +and the city and the hills upon the other. Their colour is that of +dusky honey or dun amber; for they are not built of marble, but of +sandstone, which at some not very distant geological period must +have been a sea-bed. Oyster and scallop shells are embedded in the +roughly hewn masonry, while here and there patches of a red +deposit, apparently of broken coralline, make the surface crimson. +The vegetation against which the ruined colonnades are relieved +consists almost wholly of almond and olive trees, the bright green +foliage of the one mingling with the greys of the other, and both +enhancing the warm tints of the stone. This contrast of colours is +very agreeable to the eye; yet when the temples were perfect it did +not exist. There is no doubt that their surface was coated with a +fine stucco, wrought to smoothness, toned like marble, and painted +over with the blue and red and green decorations proper to the +Doric style. This fact is a practical answer to those +æsthetic critics who would fain establish that the Greeks +practised no deception in their arts. The whole effect of the +colonnades of Selinus and Girgenti must have been an illusion, and +their surface must have needed no less constant reparation than the +exterior of a Gothic cathedral. The sham jewellery frequently found +in Greek tombs, and the curious mixture of marble with sandstone in +the sculptures from Selinus, are other instances that Greeks no +less than modern artists condescended to trickery for the sake of +effect. In the series of the metopes from Selinus now preserved in +the museum at Palermo, the flesh of the female persons is +represented by white marble, while that of the men, together with +the dresses and other accessories, is wrought of common <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg334" id="pg334">334</a></span> stone. +Yet the basreliefs in which this peculiarity occurs belong to the +best period of Greek sculpture, and the groups are not unworthy for +spirit and design to be placed by the side of the metopes of the +Parthenon. Most beautiful, for example, is the contrast between the +young unarmed Hercules and the Amazon he overpowers. His naked +man's foot grasps with the muscular energy of an athlete her soft +and helpless woman's foot, the roughness of the sandstone and the +smoothness of the marble really heightening the effect of +difference.</p> + +<p>Though ranged in a row along the same cornice, the temples of +Girgenti, originally at least six in number, were not so disposed +that any of their architectural lines should be exactly parallel. +The Greeks disliked formality; the carefully calculated +<i>asymmetreia</i> in the disposition of their groups of buildings +secured variety of effect as well as a broken surface for the +display of light and shadow. This is very noticeable on the +Acropolis of Athens, where, however regular may be the several +buildings, all are placed at different angles to each other and the +hill. Only two of the Girgenti temples survive in any degree of +perfection—the so-called Concordia and the Juno Lacinia. The +rest are but mere heaps of mighty ruins, with here and there a +broken column, and in one place an angle of a pediment raised upon +a group of pillars. The foundations of masonry which supported them +and the drums of their gigantic columns are tufted with wild palm, +aloe, asphodel, and crimson snapdragon. Yellow blossoming sage, and +mint, and lavender, and mignonette, sprout in the crevices where +snakes and lizards harbour. The grass around is gemmed with blue +pimpernel and convolvulus. Gladiolus springs amid the young +corn-blades beneath the almond-trees; while a beautiful little iris +makes the most unpromising dry places brilliant with its delicate +greys and blues. In cooler <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg335" +id="pg335">335</a></span> and damper hollows, around the boles of +old olives and under ruined arches, flourishes the tender acanthus, +and the road-sides are gaudy with a yellow daisy flower, which may +perchance be the +ελίχρυσος of +Theocritus. Thus the whole scene is a wilderness of brightness, +less radiant but more touching than when processions of men and +maidens bearing urns and laurel-branches, crowned with ivy or with +myrtle, paced along those sandstone roads, chanting pæans and +prosodial hymns, toward the glistening porches and hypæthral +cells.</p> + +<p>The only temple about the name of which there can be no doubt is +that of Zeus Olympius. A prostrate giant who once with nineteen of +his fellows helped to support the roof of this enormous fane, and +who now lies in pieces among the asphodels, remains to prove that +this was the building begun by the Agrigentines after the defeat of +the Phoenicians at the Himera, when slaves were many and spoil was +abundant, and Hellas both in Sicily and on the mainland felt a more +than usual thrill of gratitude to their ancestral deity. The +greatest architectural works of the island, the temples of Segeste +and Selinus, as well as those of Girgenti, were begun between this +period and the Carthaginian invasion of 409 B.C. The victory of the +Hellenes over the barbarians in 480 B.C., symbolised in the victory +of Zeus over the enslaved Titans of this temple, gave a vast +impulse to their activity and wealth. After the disastrous +incursion of the same foes seventy years later, the western Greek +towns of the island received a check from which they never +recovered. Many of their noblest buildings remained unfinished. The +question which rises to the lips of all who contemplate the ruins +of this gigantic temple and its compeer dedicated to Herakles is +this: Who wrought the destruction of works so solid and enduring? +For what purpose of spite or interest were those vast +columns—in the very flutings of which a man can stand with +ease—felled like <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg336" id= +"pg336">336</a></span> forest pines? One sees the mighty pillars +lying as they sank, like swathes beneath the mower's scythe. Their +basements are still in line. The drums which composed them have +fallen asunder, but maintain their original relation to each other +on the ground. Was it earthquake or the hand of man that brought +them low? Poggio Bracciolini tells us that in the fifteenth century +they were burning the marble buildings of the Roman Campagna for +lime. We know that the Senator Brancaleone made havoc among the +classic monuments occupied as fortresses by Frangipani and Savelli +and Orsini. We understand how the Farnesi should have quarried the +Coliseum for their palace. But here, at the distance of three miles +from Girgenti, in a comparative desert, what army, or what band of +ruffians, or what palace-builders could have found it worth their +while to devastate mere mountains of sculptured sandstone? The +Romans invariably respected Greek temples. The early Christians +used them for churches:—and this accounts for the comparative +perfection of the Concordia. It was in the age of the Renaissance +that the ruin of Girgenti's noblest monuments occurred. The temple +of Zeus Olympius was shattered in the fifteenth century, and in the +next its fragments were used to build a breakwater. The demolition +of such substantial edifices is as great a wonder as their +construction. We marvel at the energy which must have been employed +on their overthrow, no less than at the art which raised such +blocks of stone and placed them in position.</p> + +<p>While so much remains both at Syracuse and at Girgenti to recall +the past, we are forced here, as at Athens, to feel how very little +we really know about Greek life. We cannot bring it up before our +fancy with any clearness, but rather in a sort of hazy dream, from +which some luminous points emerge. The entrance of an Olympian +victor through the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg337" id= +"pg337">337</a></span> breach in the city walls of Girgenti, the +procession of citizens conducting old Timoleon in his chariot to +the theatre, the conferences of the younger Dionysius with Plato in +his guarded palace-fort, the stately figure of Empedocles presiding +over incantations in the marshes of Selinus, the austerity of Dion +and his mystic dream, the first appearance of stubborn Gylippus +with long Lacedæmonian hair in the theatre of +Syracuse,—such picturesque pieces of history we may fairly +well recapture. But what were the daily occupations of the +Simætha of Theocritus? What was the state dress of the +splendid Queen Philistis, whose name may yet be read upon her seat, +and whose face adorns the coins of Syracuse? How did the great +altar of Zeus look, when the oxen were being slaughtered there by +hundreds, in a place which must have been shambles and meat-market +and temple all in one? What scene of architectural splendour met +the eyes of the swimmers in the Piscina of Girgenti? How were the +long hours of so many days of leisure occupied by the Greeks, who +had each three pillows to his head in 'splendour-loving Acragas'? +Of what sort was the hospitality of Gellias? Questions like these +rise up to tantalise us with the hopelessness of ever truly +recovering the life of a lost race. After all the labour of +antiquary and the poet, nothing remains to be uttered but such +moralisings as Sir Thomas Browne poured forth over the urns +discovered at Old Walsingham: 'What time the persons of these +ossuaries entered the famous nations of the dead, and slept with +princes and counsellors, might admit a wide solution. But who were +the proprietaries of these bones, or what bodies these ashes made +up, were a question above antiquarism; not to be resolved by man, +nor easily perhaps by spirits except we consult the provincial +guardians, or tutelary observators.' Death reigns over the peoples +of the past, and we must fain be satisfied to cry with <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg338" id="pg338">338</a></span> Raleigh: 'O +eloquent, just, and mighty death! whom none could advise, thou hast +persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the +world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and +despised: thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, +all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of men, and covered it all +over with these two narrow words, <i>hic jacet</i>.' Even so. Yet +while the cadence of this august rhetoric is yet in our ears, +another voice is heard as of the angel seated by a void and open +tomb, 'Why seek ye the living among the dead?' The spirit of Hellas +is indestructible, however much the material existence of the +Greeks be lost beyond recovery; for the life of humanity is not +many but one, not parcelled into separate moments but +continuous.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg339" id= +"pg339">339</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="ATHENS" id="ATHENS" /><i>ATHENS</i></h3> + +<p>Athens, by virtue of scenery and situation, was predestined to +be the motherland of the free reason of mankind, long before the +Athenians had won by their great deeds the right to name their city +the ornament and the eye of Hellas. Nothing is more obvious to one +who has seen many lands and tried to distinguish their essential +characters, than the fact that no one country exactly resembles +another, but that, however similar in climate and locality, each +presents a peculiar and well-marked property belonging to itself +alone. The specific quality of Athenian landscape is +light—not richness or sublimity or romantic loveliness or +grandeur of mountain outline, but luminous beauty, serene exposure +to the airs of heaven. The harmony and balance of the scenery, so +varied in its details and yet so comprehensible, are sympathetic to +the temperance of Greek morality, the moderation of Greek art. The +radiance with which it is illuminated has all the clearness and +distinction of the Attic intellect. From whatever point the plain +of Athens with its semicircle of greater and lesser hills may be +surveyed, it always presents a picture of dignified and lustrous +beauty. The Acropolis is the centre of this landscape, splendid as +a work of art with its crown of temples; and the sea, surmounted by +the long low hills of the Morea, is the boundary to which the eye +is irresistibly led. Mountains and islands and plain alike are made +of limestone, hardening here and there into marble, broken <a name= +"pg340" id="pg340"></a><span class="pagenum">340</span> into +delicate and varied forms, and sprinkled with a vegetation of low +shrubs and brushwood so sparse and slight that the naked rock in +every direction meets the light. This rock is grey and colourless: +viewed in the twilight of a misty day, it shows the dull, tame +uniformity of bone. Without the sun it is asleep and sorrowful. But +by reason of this very deadness, the limestone of Athenian +landscape is always ready to take the colours of the air and sun. +In noonday it smiles with silvery lustre, fold upon fold of the +indented hills and islands melting from the brightness of the sea +into the untempered brilliance of the sky. At dawn and sunset the +same rocks array themselves with a celestial robe of rainbow-woven +hues: islands, sea, and mountains, far and near, burn with saffron, +violet, and rose, with the tints of beryl and topaz, sapphire and +almandine and amethyst, each in due order and at proper distances. +The fabled dolphin in its death could not have showed a more +brilliant succession of splendours waning into splendours through +the whole chord of prismatic colours. This sensitiveness of the +Attic limestone to every modification of the sky's light gives a +peculiar spirituality to the landscape. The hills remain in form +and outline unchanged; but the beauty breathed upon them lives or +dies with the emotions of the air from whence it emanates: the +spirit of light abides with them and quits them by alternations +that seem to be the pulses of an ethereally communicated life. No +country, therefore, could be better fitted for the home of a race +gifted with exquisite sensibilities, in whom humanity should first +attain the freedom of self-consciousness in art and thought. +Αει δια +λαμπροτάτου +βαίνοντες +αβρος +αιθέρος—ever +delicately moving through most translucent air—said Euripides +of the Athenians: and truly the bright air of Attica was made to be +breathed by men in whom the light of culture should begin to shine. +Ιοστέφανος +is an epithet <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg341" id= +"pg341">341</a></span> of Aristophanes for his city; and if not +crowned with other violets, Athens wears for her garland the +air-empurpled hills—Hymettus, Lycabettus, Pentelicus, and +Parnes.<a name="FNanchor_1_76" id="FNanchor_1_76" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_76" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Consequently, +while still the Greeks of Homer's age were Achaians, while Argos +was the titular seat of Hellenic empire, and the mythic deeds of +the heroes were being enacted in Thebes or Mycenæ, Athens did +but bide her time, waiting to manifest herself as the true godchild +of Pallas, who sprang perfect from the brain of Zeus, Pallas, who +is the light of cloudless heaven emerging after storms. And Pallas, +when she planted her chosen people in Attica, knew well what she +was doing. To the far-seeing eyes of the goddess, although the +first-fruits of song and science and philosophy might be reaped +upon the shores of the Ægean and the islands, yet the days +were clearly descried when Athens should stretch forth her hand to +hold the lamp of all her founder loved for Europe. As the priest of +Egypt told Solon: 'She chose the spot of earth in which you were +born, because she saw that the happy temperament of the seasons in +that land would produce the wisest of men. Wherefore the goddess, +who was a lover both of war and wisdom, selected and first of all +settled that spot which was the most likely to produce men likest +herself.' This sentence from the 'Timæus' of Plato<a name= +"FNanchor_2_77" id="FNanchor_2_77" /><a href= +"#Footnote_2_77" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> reveals the +consciousness possessed by the Greeks of that intimate connection +which subsists between a country and the temper of its race. To us +the name Athenai—the fact that Athens by its title even in +the prehistoric age was marked out as the appanage of her <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg342" id="pg342">342</a></span> who was +the patroness of culture—seems a fortunate accident, an +undesigned coincidence of the most striking sort. To the Greeks, +steeped in mythologic faith, accustomed to regard their lineage as +autochthonous and their polity as the fabric of a god, nothing +seemed more natural than that Pallas should have selected for her +own exactly that portion of Hellas where the arts and sciences +might flourish best. Let the Boeotians grow fat and stagnant upon +their rich marshlands: let the Spartans form themselves into a race +of soldiers in their mountain fortress: let Corinth reign, the +queen of commerce, between her double seas: let the Arcadians in +their oak woods worship pastoral Pan: let the plains of Elis be the +meeting-place of Hellenes at their sacred games: let Delphi boast +the seat of sooth oracular from Phoebus. Meanwhile the sunny but +barren hills of Attica, open to the magic of the sky, and beautiful +by reason of their nakedness, must be the home of a people powerful +by might of intelligence rather than strength of limb, wealthy not +so much by natural resources as by enterprise. Here, and here only, +could stand the city sung by Milton:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i7">Built nobly, pure the air, and light the +soil,</div> + +<div class="i7">Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts</div> + +<div class="i7">And eloquence, native to famous wits</div> + +<div class="i7">Or hospitable, in her sweet recess,</div> + +<div class="i7">City or suburban, studious walks and shades.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>We who believe in no authentic Pallas, child of Zeus, may yet +pause awhile, when we contemplate Athens, to ponder whether those +old mythologic systems, which ascribed to godhead the foundation of +states and the patronage of peoples, had not some glimpse of truth +beyond a mere blind guess. Is not, in fact, this Athenian land the +promised and predestined home of a peculiar people, in the same +sense as that <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg343" id= +"pg343">343</a></span> in which Palestine was the heritage by faith +of a tribe set apart by Jehovah for His own?</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_76" id="Footnote_1_76" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_76"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This +interpretation of the epithet +Ιοστέφανος +is not, I think, merely fanciful. It seems to occur naturally to +those who visit Athens with the language of Greek poets in their +memory. I was glad to find, on reading a paper by the Dean of +Westminster on the topography of Greece, that the same thought had +struck him. Ovid, too, gives the adjective <i>purpureus</i> to +Hymettus.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_77" id="Footnote_2_77" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_77"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +Jowett's translation, vol. ii. p. 520.</p> +</div> + +<p>Unlike Rome, Athens leaves upon the memory one simple and +ineffaceable impression. There is here no conflict between Paganism +and Christianity, no statues of Hellas baptised by popes into the +company of saints, no blending of the classical and mediæval +and Renaissance influences in a bewilderment of vast antiquity. +Rome, true to her historical vocation, embraces in her ruins all +ages, all creeds, all nations. Her life has never stood still, but +has submitted to many transformations, of which the traces are +still visible. Athens, like the Greeks of history, is isolated in a +sort of self-completion: she is a thing of the past, which still +exists, because the spirit never dies, because beauty is a joy for +ever. What is truly remarkable about the city is just this, that +while the modern town is an insignificant mushroom of the present +century, the monuments of Greek art in the best period—the +masterpieces of Ictinus and Mnesicles, and the theatre on which the +plays of the tragedians were produced—survive in comparative +perfection, and are so far unencumbered with subsequent edifices +that the actual Athens of Pericles absorbs our attention. There is +nothing of any consequence intermediate between us and the fourth +century B.C.. Seen from a distance the Acropolis presents nearly +the same appearance as it offered to Spartan guardsmen when they +paced the ramparts of Deceleia. Nature around is all unaltered. +Except that more villages, enclosed with olive-groves and +vineyards, were sprinkled over those bare hills in classic days, no +essential change in the landscape has taken place, no +transformation, for example, of equal magnitude with that which +converted the Campagna of Rome from a plain of cities to a +poisonous solitude. All through the centuries which divide us from +the age of Hadrian—centuries unfilled, as far as Athens is +concerned, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg344" id= +"pg344">344</a></span> with memorable deeds or national +activity—the Acropolis has stood uncovered to the sun. The +tones of the marble of Pentelicus have daily grown more golden; +decay has here and there invaded frieze and capital; war too has +done its work, shattering the Parthenon in 1687 by the explosion of +a powder magazine, and the Propylæa in 1656 by a similar +accident, and seaming the colonnades that still remain with +cannon-balls in 1827. Yet in spite of time and violence the +Acropolis survives, a miracle of beauty: like an everlasting +flower, through all that lapse of years it has spread its coronal +of marbles to the air, unheeded. And now, more than ever, its +temples seem to be incorporate with the rock they crown. The slabs +of column and basement have grown together by long pressure or +molecular adhesion into a coherent whole. Nor have weeds or +creeping ivy invaded the glittering fragments that strew the sacred +hill. The sun's kiss alone has caused a change from white to +amber-hued or russet. Meanwhile, the exquisite adaptation of Greek +building to Greek landscape has been enhanced rather than impaired +by that 'unimaginable touch of time,' which has broken the +regularity of outline, softened the chisel-work of the sculptor, +and confounded the painter's fretwork in one tint of glowing gold. +The Parthenon, the Erechtheum, and the Propylæa have become +one with the hill on which they cluster, as needful to the scenery +around them as the everlasting mountains, as sympathetic as the +rest of nature to the successions of morning and evening, which +waken them to passionate life by the magic touch of colour.</p> + +<p>Thus there is no intrusive element in Athens to distract the +mind from memories of its most glorious past. Walk into the theatre +of Dionysus. The sculptures that support the stage—Sileni +bending beneath the weight of cornices, and lines of graceful +youths and maidens—are still in their <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg345" id="pg345">345</a></span> ancient +station.<a name="FNanchor_1_78" id="FNanchor_1_78" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_78" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The pavement of +the orchestra, once trodden by Athenian choruses, presents its +tessellated marbles to our feet; and we may choose the seat of +priest or archon or herald or thesmothetes, when we wish to summon +before our mind's eye the pomp of the 'Agamemnon' or the dances of +the 'Birds' and 'Clouds.' Each seat still bears some carven +name—ΙΕΡΕΩΣ +ΤΩΝ ΜΟΥΣΩΝ or +ΙΕΡΕΩΣ +ΑΣΚΛΗΠΙΟΥ—and +that of the priest of Dionysus is beautifully wrought with Bacchic +basreliefs. One of them, inscribed +ΙΕΡΕΩΣ +ΑΝΤΙΝΟΟΥ, proves +indeed that the extant chairs were placed here in the age of +Hadrian, who completed the vast temple of Zeus Olympius, and filled +its precincts with statues of his favourite, and named a new Athens +after his own name.<a name="FNanchor_2_79" id="FNanchor_2_79" /><a +href="#Footnote_2_79" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Yet we need +not doubt that their position round the orchestra is traditional, +and that even in their form they do not differ from those which the +priests and officers of Athens used from the time of Æschylus +downward. Probably a slave brought cushion and footstool to +complete the comfort of these stately armchairs. Nothing else is +wanted to render them fit now for their august occupants; and we +may imagine the long-stoled greybearded men throned in state, each +with his wand and with appropriate fillets on his head. As we rest +here in the light of the full moon, which simplifies all outlines +and heals with tender touch the wounds of ages, it is easy enough +to dream ourselves into the belief that the ghosts of dead actors +may once more glide across the stage. <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg346" id="pg346">346</a></span> Fiery-hearted Medea, +statuesque Antigone, Prometheus silent beneath the hammer-strokes +of Force and Strength, Orestes hounded by his mother's Furies, +Cassandra aghast before the palace of Mycenæ, pure-souled +Hippolytus, ruthful Alcestis, the divine youth of Helen, and +Clytemnestra in her queenliness, emerge like faint grey films +against the bluish background of Hymettus. The night air seems +vocal with echoes of old Greek, more felt than heard, like voices +wafted to our sense in sleep, the sound whereof we do not seize, +though the burden lingers in our memory.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_78" id="Footnote_1_78" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_78"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It is +true, however, that these sculptures belong to a comparatively late +period, and that the theatre underwent some alterations in Roman +days, so that the stage is now probably a few yards farther from +the seats than in the time of Sophocles.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_79" id="Footnote_2_79" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_2_79"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It is +not a little surprising to come upon this relic of the worship of +the young Bithynian at Athens in the theatre still consecrated by +the memories of Æschylus and Sophocles.</p> +</div> + +<p>In like manner, when moonlight, falling aslant upon the +Propylæa, restores the marble masonry to its original +whiteness, and the shattered heaps of ruined colonnades are veiled +in shadow, and every form seems larger, grander, and more perfect +than by day, it is well to sit upon the lowest steps, and looking +upwards, to remember what processions passed along this way bearing +the sacred peplus to Athene. The Panathenaic pomp, which Pheidias +and his pupils carved upon the friezes of the Parthenon, took place +once in five years, on one of the last days of July.<a name= +"FNanchor_1_80" id="FNanchor_1_80" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_80" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> All the citizens +joined in the honour paid to their patroness. Old men bearing +olive-branches, young men clothed in bronze, chapleted youths +singing the praise of Pallas in prosodial hymns, maidens carrying +holy vessels, aliens bending beneath the weight of urns, servants +of the temple leading oxen crowned with fillets, troops of horsemen +reining in impetuous steeds: all these pass before us in the frieze +of Pheidias. But to our imagination must be left what he has +refrained from sculpturing, the chariot formed like a ship, in +which the most illustrious nobles of Athens sat, splendidly +arrayed, beneath the crocus-coloured curtain or <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg347" id="pg347">347</a></span> peplus +outspread upon a mast. Some concealed machinery caused this car to +move; but whether it passed through the Propylæa, and entered +the Acropolis, admits of doubt. It is, however, certain that the +procession which ascended those steep slabs, and before whom the +vast gates of the Propylæa swang open with the clangour of +resounding bronze, included not only the citizens of Athens and +their attendant aliens, but also troops of cavalry and chariots; +for the mark of chariot-wheels can still be traced upon the rock. +The ascent is so abrupt that this multitude moved but slowly. +Splendid indeed, beyond any pomp of modern ceremonial, must have +been the spectacle of the well-ordered procession, advancing +through those giant colonnades to the sound of flutes and solemn +chants—the shrill clear voices of boys in antiphonal chorus +rising above the confused murmurs of such a crowd, the chafing of +horses' hoofs upon the stone, and the lowing of bewildered +oxen.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_80" id="Footnote_1_80" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_80"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> My +purpose being merely picturesque, I have ignored the grave +antiquarian difficulties which beset the interpretation of this +frieze.</p> +</div> + +<p>To realise by fancy the many-coloured radiance of the temples, +and the rich dresses of the votaries illuminated by that sharp +light of a Greek sun, which defines outline and shadow and gives +value to the faintest hue, would be impossible. All we can know for +positive about the chromatic decoration of the Greeks is, that +whiteness artificially subdued to the tone of ivory prevailed +throughout the stonework of the buildings, while blue and red and +green in distinct, yet interwoven patterns, added richness to the +fretwork and the sculpture of pediment and frieze. The sacramental +robes of the worshippers accorded doubtless with this harmony, +wherein colour was subordinate to light, and light was toned to +softness.</p> + +<p>Musing thus upon the staircase of the Propylæa, we may say +with truth that all our modern art is but child's play to that of +the Greeks. Very soul-subduing is the gloom of a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg348" id="pg348">348</a></span> cathedral like +the Milanese Duomo, when the incense rises in blue clouds athwart +the bands of sunlight falling from the dome, and the crying of +choirs upborne upon the wings of organ music fills the whole vast +space with a mystery of melody. Yet such ceremonial pomps as this +are as dreams and the shapes of visions, when compared with the +clearly defined splendours of a Greek procession through marble +peristyles in open air beneath the sun and sky. That spectacle +combined the harmonies of perfect human forms in movement with the +divine shapes of statues, the radiance of carefully selected +vestments with hues inwrought upon pure marble. The rhythms and the +melodies of the Doric mood were sympathetic to the proportions of +the Doric colonnades. The grove of pillars through which the +pageant passed grew from the living rock into shapes of beauty, +fulfilling by the inbreathed spirit of man Nature's blind yearning +after absolute completion. The sun himself—not thwarted by +artificial gloom, or tricked with alien colours of stained +glass—was made to minister in all his strength to a pomp, the +pride of which was the display of form in manifold magnificence. +The ritual of the Greeks was the ritual of a race at one with +Nature, glorying in its affiliation to the mighty mother of all +life, and striving to add by human art the coping-stone and final +touch to her achievement. The ritual of the Catholic Church is the +ritual of a race shut out from Nature, holding no communion with +the powers of earth and air, but turning the spirit inwards and +aiming at the concentration of the whole soul upon an unseen God. +The temple of the Greeks was the house of a present deity; its cell +his chamber; its statue his reality. The Christian cathedral is the +fane where God who is a spirit is worshipped; no statue fills the +choir from wall to wall and lifts its forehead to the roof; but the +vacant aisles, with their convergent arches soaring upwards <span +class="pagenum"><a name="pg349" id="pg349">349</a></span> to the +dome, are made to suggest the brooding of infinite and omnipresent +Godhead. It was the object of the Greek artist to preserve a just +proportion between the god's statue and his house, in order that +the worshipper might approach him as a subject draws near to his +monarch's throne. The Christian architect seeks to affect the +emotions of the votary with a sense of vastness filled with unseen +power. Our cathedrals are symbols of the universe where God is +everywhere pavilioned and invisible. The Greek temple was a +practical, utilitarian dwelling-house, made beautiful enough to +suit divinity. The modern church is an idea expressed in stone, an +aspiration of the spirit, shooting up from arch and pinnacle and +spire into illimitable fields of air.</p> + +<p>It follows from these differences between the religious aims of +Pagan and Christian architecture, that the former was far more +favourable to the plastic arts. No beautiful or simple incident of +human life was an inappropriate subject for the sculptor, in +adorning the houses of gods who were themselves but human on a +higher level; and the ritual whereby the gods were honoured was +merely an exhibition, in its strength and joyfulness, of mortal +beauty. Therefore the Panathenaic procession furnished Pheidias +with a series of sculptural motives, which he had only to express +according to the principles of his art. The frieze, three feet and +four inches in height, raised forty feet above the pavement of the +peristyle, ran for five hundred and twenty-four continuous feet +round the outside wall of the cella of the Parthenon. The whole of +this long line was wrought with carving of exquisite delicacy and +supreme vigour, in such low relief as its peculiar position, far +above the heads of the spectators, and only illuminated by light +reflected from below, required. Each figure, each attitude, and +each fold of drapery in its countless groups is a study; yet the +whole was a transcript from actual contemporary <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg350" id="pg350">350</a></span> Athenian life. +Truly in matters of art we are but infants to the Greeks.</p> + +<p>The topographical certainty which invests the ruins of the +Acropolis with such peculiar interest, belongs in a less degree to +the whole of Athens. Although the most recent researches have +thrown fresh doubt upon the exact site of the Pnyx, and though no +traces of the agora remain, yet we may be sure that the Bema from +which Pericles sustained the courage of the Athenians during the +Peloponnesian war, was placed upon the northern slope looking +towards the Propylæa, while the wide irregular space between +this hill, the Acropolis, the Areopagus, and the Theseum, must have +formed the meeting-ground for amusement and discussion of the +citizens at leisure. About Areopagus, with its tribunal hollowed in +the native rock, and the deep cleft beneath, where the shrine of +the Eumenides was built, there is no question. The extreme +insignificance of this little mound may at first indeed excite +incredulity and wonder; but a few hours in Athens accustom the +traveller to a smallness of scale which at first sight seemed +ridiculous. Colonus, for example, the Colonus which every student +of Sophocles has pictured to himself in the solitude of unshorn +meadows, where groves of cypresses and olives bent unpruned above +wild tangles of narcissus flowers and crocuses, and where the +nightingale sang undisturbed by city noise or labour of the +husbandman, turns out to be a scarcely appreciable mound, gently +swelling from the cultivated land of the Cephissus. The Cephissus +even in a rainy season may be crossed dryshod by an active jumper; +and the Ilissus, where it flows beneath the walls of the +Olympieion, is now dedicated to washerwomen instead of +water-nymphs. Nature herself remains, on the whole, unaltered. Most +notable are still the white poplars dedicated of old to Herakles, +and the spreading planes which whisper to the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg351" id="pg351">351</a></span> limes in +spring. In the midst of so arid and bare a landscape, these +umbrageous trees are singularly grateful to the eye and to the +sense oppressed with heat and splendour. Nightingales have not +ceased to crowd the gardens in such numbers as to justify the +tradition of their Attic origin, nor have the bees of Hymettus +forgotten their labours: the honey of Athens can still boast a +quality superior to that of Hybla or any other famous haunt of +hives.</p> + +<p>Tradition points out one spot which commands a beautiful distant +view of Athens and the hills, as the garden of the Academy. The +place is not unworthy of Plato and his companions. Very old olives +grow in abundance, to remind us of those sacred trees beneath which +the boys of Aristophanes ran races; and reeds with which they might +crown their foreheads are thickly scattered through the grass. +Abeles interlace their murmuring branches overhead, and the planes +are as leafy as that which invited Socrates and Phædrus on +the morning when they talked of love. In such a place we comprehend +how philosophy went hand in hand at Athens with gymnastics, and why +the poplar and the plane were dedicated to athletic gods. For the +wrestling-grounds were built in groves like these, and their cool +peristyles, the meeting-places of young men and boys, supplied the +sages not only with an eager audience, but also with the leisure +and the shade that learning loves.</p> + +<p>It was very characteristic of Greek life that speculative +philosophy should not have chosen 'to walk the studious cloister +pale,' but should rather have sought out places where 'the busy hum +of men' was loudest, and where youthful voices echoed. The Athenian +transacted no business, and pursued but few pleasures, under a +private roof. He conversed and bargained in the agora, debated on +the open rocks of the Pnyx, and enjoyed discussion in the courts of +the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg352" id="pg352">352</a></span> +gymnasium. It is also far from difficult to understand beneath this +over-vaulted and grateful gloom of bee-laden branches, what part +love played in the haunts of runners and of wrestlers, why near the +statue of Hermes stood that of Erôs, and wherefore Socrates +surnamed his philosophy the Science of Love. +Φιλοσοφουμεν +ανευ +μαλακίας is the boast +of Pericles in his description of the Athenian spirit. +Φιλοσοφία +μετα +παιδεραστίας +is Plato's formula for the virtues of the most distinguished soul. +These two mottoes, apparently so contradictory, found their point +of meeting and their harmony in the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>The mere contemplation of these luxuriant groves, set in the +luminous Attic landscape, and within sight of Athens, explains a +hundred passages of poets and philosophers. Turn to the opening +scenes of the 'Lysis' and the 'Charmides.' The action of the latter +dialogue is laid in the palæstra of Taureas. Socrates has +just returned from the camp at Potidæa, and after answering +the questions of his friends, has begun to satisfy his own +curiosity:<a name="FNanchor_1_81" id="FNanchor_1_81" /><a href= +"#Footnote_1_81" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—</p> + +<div class="blockquotwide"> +<p>When there had been enough of this, I, in my turn, began to make +inquiries about matters at home—about the present state of +philosophy, and about the youth. I asked whether any of them were +remarkable for beauty or sense—or both. Critias, glancing at +the door, invited my attention to some youths who were coming in, +and talking noisily to one another, followed by a crowd. 'Of the +beauties, Socrates,' he said, 'I fancy that you will soon be able +to form a judgment. For those who are just entering are the +advanced guard of the great beauty of the day—and he is +likely not to be far off himself.'</p> + +<p>'Who is he?' I said; 'and who is his father?'</p> + +<p>'Charmides,' he replied, 'is his name; he is my cousin, and the +son of my uncle Glaucon: I rather think that you know him, although +he was not grown up at the time of your departure.'</p> + +<p>'Certainly I know him,' I said; 'for he was remarkable even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg353" id="pg353">353</a></span> +then when he was still a child, and now I should imagine that he +must be almost a young man.'</p> + +<p>'You will see,' he said, 'in a moment what progress he has made, +and what he is like.' He had scarcely said the word, when Charmides +entered.</p> + +<p>Now you know, my friend, that I cannot measure anything, and of +the beautiful, I am simply such a measure as a white line is of +chalk; for almost all young persons are alike beautiful in my eyes. +But at that moment, when I saw him coming in, I must admit that I +was quite astonished at his beauty and stature; all the world +seemed to be enamoured of him; amazement and confusion reigned when +he entered; and a troop of lovers followed him. That grown-up men +like ourselves should have been affected in this way was not +surprising, but I observed that there was the same feeling among +the boys; all of them, down to the very least child, turned and +looked at him as if he had been a statue.</p> + +<p>Chaerephon called me and said: 'What do you think of him, +Socrates? Has he not a beautiful face?'</p> + +<p>'That he has indeed,' I said.</p> + +<p>'But you would think nothing of his face,' he replied, 'if you +could see his naked form: he is absolutely perfect.'</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_81" id="Footnote_1_81" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_81"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I quote +from Professor Jowett's translation.</p> +</div> + +<p>This Charmides is a true Greek of the perfect type. Not only is +he the most beautiful of Athenian youths; he is also temperate, +modest, and subject to the laws of moral health. His very beauty is +a harmony of well-developed faculties in which the mind and body +are at one. How a young Greek managed to preserve this balance in +the midst of the admiring crowds described by Socrates is a marvel. +Modern conventions unfit our minds for realising the conditions +under which he had to live. Yet it is indisputable that Plato has +strained no point in the animated picture he presents of the +palæstra. Aristophanes and Xenophon bear him out in all the +details of the scene. We have to imagine a totally different system +of social morality from ours, with virtues and vices, temptations +and triumphs, unknown to our young men. The next scene from the +'Lysis' introduces us to another wrestling-ground <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg354" id="pg354">354</a></span> in the +neighbourhood of Athens. Here Socrates meets with Hippothales, who +is a devoted lover but a bad poet. Hippothales asks the +philosopher's advice as to the best method of pleasing the boy +Lysis:—</p> + +<div class="blockquotwide"> +<p>'Will you tell me by what words or actions I may become endeared +to my love?'</p> + +<p>'That is not easy to determine,' I said; 'but if you will bring +your love to me, and will let me talk with him, I may perhaps be +able to show you how to converse with him, instead of singing and +reciting in the fashion of which you are accused.'</p> + +<p>'There will be no difficulty in bringing him,' he replied; 'if +you will only go into the house with Ctesippus, and sit down and +talk, he will come of himself; for he is fond of listening, +Socrates. And as this is the festival of the Hermæa, there is +no separation of young men and boys, but they are all mixed up +together. He will be sure to come. But if he does not come, +Ctesippus, with whom he is familiar, and whose relation Menexenus +is, his great friend, shall call him.'</p> + +<p>'That will be the way,' I said. Thereupon I and Ctesippus went +towards the Palæstra, and the rest followed.</p> + +<p>Upon entering we found that the boys had just been sacrificing; +and this part of the festival was nearly come to an end. They were +all in white array, and games at dice were going on among them. +Most of them were in the outer court amusing themselves; but some +were in a corner of the Apodyterium playing at odd-and-even with a +number of dice, which they took out of little wicker baskets. There +was also a circle of lookers-on, one of whom was Lysis. He was +standing among the other boys and youths, having a crown upon his +head, like a fair vision, and not less worthy of praise for his +goodness than for his beauty. We left them, and went over to the +opposite side of the room, where we found a quiet place, and sat +down; and then we began to talk. This attracted Lysis, who was +constantly turning round to look at us—he was evidently +wanting to come to us. For a time he hesitated and had not the +courage to come alone; but first of all, his friend Menexenus came +in out of the court in the interval of his play, and when he saw +Ctesippus and myself, came and sat by us; and then Lysis, seeing +him, followed and sat down with him; and the other boys joined. I +should observe that Hippothales, when he saw the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="pg355" id="pg355">355</a></span> crowd, got +behind them, where he thought that he would be out of sight of +Lysis, lest he should anger him; and there he stood and +listened.</p> +</div> + +<p>Enough has been quoted to show that beneath the porches of a +Greek palæstra, among the youths of Athens, who wrote no +exercises in dead languages, and thought chiefly of attaining to +perfect manhood by the harmonious exercise of mind and body in +temperate leisure, divine philosophy must indeed have been charming +both to teachers and to learners:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,</div> + +<div class="i4">But musical as is Apollo's lute,</div> + +<div class="i4">And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets</div> + +<div class="i4">Where no crude surfeit reigns.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There are no remains above ground of the buildings which made +the Attic gymnasia splendid. Nor are there in Athens itself many +statues of the noble human beings who paced their porches and +reclined beneath their shade. The galleries of Italy and the verses +of the poets can alone help us to repeople the Academy with its +mixed multitude of athletes and of sages. The language of +Simætha, in Theocritus, brings the younger men before us: +their cheeks are yellower than helichrysus with the down of youth, +and their breasts shine brighter far than the moon, as though they +had but lately left the 'fair toils of the wrestling-ground.' Upon +some of the monumental tablets exposed in the burying-ground of +Cerameicus and in the Theseum may be seen portraits of Athenian +citizens. A young man holding a bird, with a boy beside him who +carries a lamp or strigil; a youth, naked, and scraping himself +after the games; a boy taking leave with clasped hands of his +mother, while a dog leaps up to fawn upon his knee; a wine-party; a +soul in Charon's boat; a husband parting from his wife: such are +the simple <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg356" id= +"pg356">356</a></span> subjects of these monuments; and under each +is written ΧΡΗΣΤΕ +ΧΑΙΡΕ—Friend, farewell! The tombs +of the women are equally plain in character: a nurse brings a baby +to its mother, or a slave helps her mistress at the toilette table. +There is nothing to suggest either the gloom of the grave or the +hope of heaven in any of these sculptures. Their symbolism, if it +at all exist, is of the least mysterious kind. Our attention is +rather fixed upon the commonest affairs of life than on the secrets +of death.</p> + +<p>As we wander through the ruins of Athens, among temples which +are all but perfect, and gardens which still keep their ancient +greenery, we must perforce reflect how all true knowledge of Greek +life has passed away. To picture to ourselves its details, so as to +become quite familiar with the way in which an Athenian thought and +felt and occupied his time, is impossible. Such books as the +'Charicles' of Becker or Wieland's 'Agathon' only increase our +sense of hopelessness, by showing that neither a scholar's learning +nor a poet's fancy can pierce the mists of antiquity. We know that +it was a strange and fascinating life, passed for the most part +beneath the public eye, at leisure, without the society of free +women, without what we call a home, in constant exercise of body +and mind, in the duties of the law-courts and the assembly, in the +toils of the camp and the perils of the sea, in the amusements of +the wrestling-ground and the theatre, in sportful study and +strenuous play. We also know that the citizens of Athens, bred up +under the peculiar conditions of this artificial life, became +impassioned lovers of their city;<a name="FNanchor_1_82" id= +"FNanchor_1_82" /><a href="#Footnote_1_82" class= +"fnanchor">[1]</a> that the greatest generals, statesmen, poets, +orators, artists, historians, and philosophers that the world can +boast, were produced in the short space of a century and a half by +a city <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg357" id= +"pg357">357</a></span> numbering about 20,000 burghers. It is +scarcely an exaggeration to say with the author of 'Hereditary +Genius,' that the population of Athens, taken as a whole, was as +superior to us as we are to the Australian savages. Long and +earnest, therefore, should be our hesitation before we condemn as +pernicious or unprofitable the instincts and the customs of such a +race.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_82" id="Footnote_1_82" /><a href= +"#FNanchor_1_82"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Την της +πόλεως +δύναμιν καθ' +εμεραν εργω +θεωμένους +και +εραστας +γιγνομένους +αυτης.—Thuc. ii. 43.</p> +</div> + +<p>The permanence of strongly marked features in of Greece, and the +small scale of the whole country, add a vivid charm to the scenery +of its great events. In the harbour of Peiræus we can +scarcely fail to picture to ourselves the pomp which went forth to +Sicily that solemn morning, when the whole host prayed together and +made libations at the signal of the herald's trumpet. The nation of +athletes and artists and philosophers were embarked on what seemed +to some a holiday excursion, and for others bid fair to realise +unbounded dreams of ambition or avarice. Only a few were +heavy-hearted; but the heaviest of all was the general who had +vainly dissuaded his countrymen from the endeavour, and fruitlessly +refused the command thrust upon him. That was 'the morning of a +mighty day, a day of crisis' for the destinies of Athens. Of all +that multitude, how few would come again; of the empire which they +made so manifest in its pride of men and arms, how little but a +shadow would be left, when war and fever and the quarries of +Syracuse had done their fore-appointed work! Yet no commotion of +the elements, no eclipse or authentic oracle from heaven, was +interposed between the arrogance of Athens and sure-coming Nemesis. +The sun shone, and the waves laughed, smitten by the oars of +galleys racing to Ægina. Meanwhile Zeus from the watchtower +of the world held up the scales of fate, and the balance of Athens +was wavering to its fall.</p> + +<p>A few strokes of the oar carry us away from Peiræus to a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg358" id="pg358">358</a></span> +scene fraught with far more thrilling memories. That little point +of rock emergent from the water between Salamis and the mainland, +bare, insignificant, and void of honour among islands to the +natural eye, is Psyttaleia. A strange tightening at the heart +assails us when we approach the centre-point of the most memorable +battlefield of history. It was again 'the morning of a mighty day, +a day of crisis' for the destinies, not of Athens alone, but of +humanity, when the Persian fleet, after rowing all night up and +down the channel between Salamis and the shore, beheld the face of +Phoebus flash from behind Pentelicus and flood the Acropolis of +Athens with fire. The Peiræius recalls a crisis in the +world's drama whereof the great actors were unconscious: fair winds +and sunny waves bore light hearts to Sicily. But Psyttaleia brings +before us the heroism of a handful of men, who knew that the +supreme hour of ruin or of victory for their nation and themselves +had come. Terrible therefore was the energy with which they prayed +and joined their pæan to the trumpet-blast of dawn that +blazed upon them from the Attic hills. And this time Zeus, when he +heard their cry, saw the scale of Hellas mount to the stars. Let +Æschylus tell the tale; for he was there. A Persian is giving +an account of the defeat of Salamis to Atossa:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">The whole disaster, O my queen, began</div> + +<div class="i4">With some fell fiend or devil,—I know not +whence:</div> + +<div class="i4">For thus it was; from the Athenian host</div> + +<div class="i4">A man of Hellas came to thy son, Xerxes,</div> + +<div class="i4">Saying that when black night shall fall in +gloom,</div> + +<div class="i4">The Hellenes would no longer stay, but leap</div> + +<div class="i4">Each on the benches of his bark, and save</div> + +<div class="i4">Hither and thither by stolen flight their +lives.</div> + +<div class="i4">He, when he heard thereof, discerning not</div> + +<div class="i4">The Hellene's craft, no, nor the spite of +heaven,</div> + +<div class="i4">To all his captains gives this edict forth:</div> + +<div class="i4">When as the sun doth cease to light the +world,</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg359" id= +"pg359">359</a></span> And darkness holds the precincts of the +sky,</div> + +<div class="i4">They should dispose the fleet in three close +ranks,</div> + +<div class="i4">To guard the outlets and the water-ways;</div> + +<div class="i4">Others should compass Ajax' isle around:</div> + +<div class="i4">Seeing that if the Hellenes 'scaped grim +death</div> + +<div class="i4">By finding for their ships some privy exit,</div> + +<div class="i4">It was ordained that all should lose their +heads.</div> + +<div class="i4">So spake he, led by a mad mind astray,</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor knew what should be by the will of +heaven.</div> + +<div class="i4">They, like well-ordered vassals, with assent</div> + +<div class="i4">Straightway prepared their food, and every +sailor</div> + +<div class="i4">Fitted his oar-blade to the steady rowlock.</div> + +<div class="i4">But when the sunlight waned and night apace</div> + +<div class="i4">Descended, every man who swayed an oar</div> + +<div class="i4">Went to the boats with him who wielded +armour.</div> + +<div class="i4">Then through the ship's length rank cheered rank in +concert,</div> + +<div class="i4">Sailing as each was set in order due:</div> + +<div class="i4">And all night long the tyrants of the ships</div> + +<div class="i4">Kept the whole navy cruising to and fro.</div> + +<div class="i4">Night passed: yet never did the host of +Hellene</div> + +<div class="i4">At any point attempt their stolen sally;</div> + +<div class="i4">Until at length, when day with her white +steeds</div> + +<div class="i4">Forth shining, held the whole world under +sway.</div> + +<div class="i4">First from the Hellenes with a loud clear cry</div> + +<div class="i4">Song-like, a shout made music, and therewith</div> + +<div class="i4">The echo of the rocky isle rang back</div> + +<div class="i4">Shrill triumph: but the vast barbarian host</div> + +<div class="i4">Shorn of their hope trembled; for not for +flight</div> + +<div class="i4">The Hellenes hymned their solemn pæan +then—</div> + +<div class="i4">Nay, rather as for battle with stout heart.</div> + +<div class="i4">Then too the trumpet speaking fired our foes,</div> + +<div class="i4">And with a sudden rush of oars in time</div> + +<div class="i4">They smote the deep sea at that clarion cry;</div> + +<div class="i4">And in a moment you might see them all.</div> + +<div class="i4">The right wing in due order well arrayed</div> + +<div class="i4">First took the lead; then came the serried +squadron</div> + +<div class="i4">Swelling against us, and from many voices</div> + +<div class="i4">One cry arose: Ho! sons of Hellenes, up!</div> + +<div class="i4">Now free your fatherland, now free your sons,</div> + +<div class="i4">Your wives, the fanes of your ancestral gods,</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg360" id= +"pg360">360</a></span> Your fathers' tombs! Now fight you for your +all.</div> + +<div class="i4">Yea, and from our side brake an answering hum</div> + +<div class="i4">Of Persian voices. Then, no more delay,</div> + +<div class="i4">Ship upon ship her beak of biting brass</div> + +<div class="i4">Struck stoutly. 'Twas a bark, I ween, of +Hellas</div> + +<div class="i4">First charged, dashing from a Tyrrhenian +galleon</div> + +<div class="i4">Her prow-gear; then ran hull on hull +pell-mell.</div> + +<div class="i4">At first the torrent of the Persian navy</div> + +<div class="i4">Bore up: but when the multitude of ships</div> + +<div class="i4">Were straitly jammed, and none could help +another,</div> + +<div class="i4">Huddling with brazen-mouthed beaks they +clashed</div> + +<div class="i4">And brake their serried banks of oars +together;</div> + +<div class="i4">Nor were the Hellenes slow or slack to muster</div> + +<div class="i4">And pound them in a circle. Then ships' hulks</div> + +<div class="i4">Floated keel upwards, and the sea was covered</div> + +<div class="i4">With shipwreck multitudinous and with +slaughter.</div> + +<div class="i4">The shores and jutting reefs were full of +corpses.</div> + +<div class="i4">In indiscriminate rout, with straining oar,</div> + +<div class="i4">The whole barbarian navy turned and fled.</div> + +<div class="i4">Our foes, like men 'mid tunnies, draughts of +fishes,</div> + +<div class="i4">With splintered oars and spokes of shattered +spars</div> + +<div class="i4">Kept striking, grinding, smashing us: shrill +shrieks</div> + +<div class="i4">With groanings mingled held the hollow deep,</div> + +<div class="i4">Till night's dark eye set limit to the +slaughter.</div> + +<div class="i4">But for our mass of miseries, could I speak</div> + +<div class="i4">Straight on for ten days, I should never sum +it:</div> + +<div class="i4">For know this well, never in one day died</div> + +<div class="i4">Of men so many multitudes before.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>After a pause he resumes his narrative by describing +Psyttaleia:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">There lies an island before Salamis,</div> + +<div class="i4">Small, with scant harbour, which dance-loving +Pan</div> + +<div class="i4">Is wont to tread, haunting the salt +sea-beaches.</div> + +<div class="i4">There Xerxes placed his chiefs, that when the +foes</div> + +<div class="i4">Chased from their ships should seek the sheltering +isle,</div> + +<div class="i4">They might with ease destroy the host of +Hellas,</div> + +<div class="i4">Saving their own friends from the briny +straits.</div> + +<div class="i4">Ill had he learned what was to hap; for when</div> + +<div class="i4">God gave the glory to the Greeks at sea,</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg361" id= +"pg361">361</a></span> That same day, having fenced their flesh +with brass,</div> + +<div class="i4">They leaped from out their ships; and in a +circle</div> + +<div class="i4">Enclosed the whole girth of the isle, that so</div> + +<div class="i4">None knew where he should turn; but many fell</div> + +<div class="i4">Crushed with sharp stones in conflict, and swift +arrows</div> + +<div class="i4">Flew from the quivering bowstrings winged with +murder.</div> + +<div class="i4">At last in one fierce onset with one shout</div> + +<div class="i4">They strike, hack, hew the wretches' limbs +asunder,</div> + +<div class="i4">Till every man alive had fallen beneath them.</div> + +<div class="i4">Then Xerxes groaned, seeing the gulf unclose</div> + +<div class="i4">Of grief below him; for his throne was raised</div> + +<div class="i4">High in the sight of all by the sea-shore.</div> + +<div class="i4">Rending his robes, and shrieking a shrill +shriek,</div> + +<div class="i4">He hurriedly gave orders to his host;</div> + +<div class="i4">Then headlong rushed in rout and heedless +ruin.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Atossa makes appropriate exclamations of despair and horror. +Then the messenger proceeds:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4">The captains of the ships that were not +shattered,</div> + +<div class="i4">Set speedy sail in flight as the winds blew.</div> + +<div class="i4">The remnant of the host died miserably,</div> + +<div class="i4">Some in Boeotia round the glimmering springs</div> + +<div class="i4">Tired out with thirst; some of us scant of +breath</div> + +<div class="i4">Escaped, with bare life to the Phocian +bounds,</div> + +<div class="i4">And land of Doris, and the Melian Gulf,</div> + +<div class="i4">Where with kind draughts Spercheius soaks the +soil.</div> + +<div class="i4">Thence in our flight Achaia's ancient plain</div> + +<div class="i4">And Thessaly's stronghold received us worn</div> + +<div class="i4">For want of food. Most died in that fell +place</div> + +<div class="i4">Of thirst and famine; for both deaths were +there.</div> + +<div class="i4">Yet to Magnesia came we and the coast</div> + +<div class="i4">Of Macedonia, to the ford of Axius,</div> + +<div class="i4">And Bolbe's canebrakes and the Pangæan +range,</div> + +<div class="i4">Edonian borders. Then in that grim night</div> + +<div class="i4">God sent unseasonable frost, and froze</div> + +<div class="i4">The stream of holy Strymon. He who erst</div> + +<div class="i4">Recked nought of gods, now prayed with +supplication,</div> + +<div class="i4">Bowing before the powers of earth and sky.</div> + +<div class="i4">But when the hosts from lengthy orisons</div> + +<div class="i4">Surceased, it crossed the ice-incrusted ford.</div> + +<div class="i4"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg362" id= +"pg362">362</a></span> And he among us who set forth before</div> + +<div class="i4">The sun-god's rays were scattered, now was +saved.</div> + +<div class="i4">For blazing with sharp beams the sun's bright +circle</div> + +<div class="i4">Pierced the mid-stream, dissolving it with +fire.</div> + +<div class="i4">There were they huddled. Happy then was he</div> + +<div class="i4">Who soonest cut the breath of life asunder.</div> + +<div class="i4">Such as survived and had the luck of living,</div> + +<div class="i4">Crossed Thrace with pain and peril manifold,</div> + +<div class="i4">'Scaping mischance, a miserable remnant,</div> + +<div class="i4">Into the dear land of their homes. Wherefore</div> + +<div class="i4">Persia may wail, wanting in vain her +darlings.</div> + +<div class="i4">This is the truth. Much I omit to tell</div> + +<div class="i4">Of woes by God wrought on the Persian race.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Upon this triumphal note it were well, perhaps, to pause. Yet +since the sojourner in Athens must needs depart by sea, let us +advance a little way farther beyond Salamis. The low shore of the +isthmus soon appears; and there is the hill of Corinth and the site +of the city, as desolate now as when Antipater of Sidon made the +sea-waves utter a threnos over her ruins. 'The deathless Nereids, +daughters of Oceanus,' still lament by the shore, and the Isthmian +pines are as green as when their boughs were plucked to bind a +victor's forehead. Feathering the grey rock now as then, they bear +witness to the wisdom and the moderation of the Greeks, who gave to +the conquerors in sacred games no wreath of gold, or title of +nobility, or land, or jewels, but the honour of an illustrious +name, the guerdon of a mighty deed, and branches taken from the +wild pine of Corinth, or the olive of Olympia, or the bay that +flourished like a weed at Delphi. What was indigenous and +characteristic of his native soil, not rare and costly things from +foreign lands, was precious to the Greek. This piety, after the +lapse of centuries and the passing away of mighty cities, still +bears fruit. Oblivion cannot wholly efface the memory of those +great games while the fir-trees rustle to the sea-wind as of old. +Down the gulf we pass, between mountain <span class="pagenum"><a +name="pg363" id="pg363">363</a></span> range and mountain. On one +hand, two peaked Parnassus rears his cope of snow aloft over +Delphi; on the other, Erymanthus and Hermes' home, Cyllene, bar the +pastoral glades of Arcady. Greece is the land of mountains, not of +rivers or of plains. The titles of the hills of Hellas smite our +ears with echoes of ancient music—Olympus and Cithæron, +Taygetus, Othrys, Helicon, and Ida. The headlands of the mainland +are mountains, and the islands are mountain summits of a submerged +continent. Austerely beautiful, not wild with an Italian +luxuriance, nor mournful with Sicilian monotony of outline, nor yet +again overwhelming with the sublimity of Alps, they seem the proper +home of a race which sought its ideal of beauty in distinction of +shape and not in multiplicity of detail, in light and not in +richness of colouring, in form and not in size.</p> + +<p>At length the open sea is reached. Past Zante and Cephalonia we +glide 'under a roof of blue Ionian weather;' or, if the sky has +been troubled with storm, we watch the moulding of long glittering +cloud-lines, processions and pomps of silvery vapour, fretwork and +frieze of alabaster piled above the islands, pearled promontories +and domes of rounded snow. Soon Santa Maura comes in +sight:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i7">Leucatæ nimbosa cacumina montis,</div> + +<div class="i7">Et formidatus nautis aperitur Apollo.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here Sappho leapt into the waves to cure love-longing, according +to the ancient story; and he who sees the white cliffs chafed with +breakers and burning with fierce light, as it was once my luck to +see them, may well with Childe Harold 'feel or deem he feels no +common glow.' All through the afternoon it had been raining, and +the sea was running high beneath a petulant west wind. But just +before evening, while yet there remained a hand's-breadth between +the sea and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg364" id= +"pg364">364</a></span> sinking sun, the clouds were rent and blown +in masses about the sky. Rain still fell fretfully in scuds and +fleeces; but where for hours there had been nothing but a monotone +of greyness, suddenly fire broke and radiance and storm-clouds in +commotion. Then, as if built up by music, a rainbow rose and grew +above Leucadia, planting one foot on Actium and the other on +Ithaca, and spanning with a horseshoe arch that touched the zenith, +the long line of roseate cliffs. The clouds upon which this bow was +woven were steel-blue beneath and crimson above; and the bow itself +was bathed in fire—its violets and greens and yellows visibly +ignited by the liquid flame on which it rested. The sea beneath, +stormily dancing, flashed back from all its crest the same red +glow, shining like a ridged lava-torrent in its first combustion. +Then as the sun sank, the crags burned deeper with scarlet blushes +as of blood, and with passionate bloom as of pomegranate or +oleander flowers. Could Turner rise from the grave to paint a +picture that should bear the name of 'Sappho's Leap,' he might +strive to paint it thus: and the world would complain that he had +dreamed the poetry of his picture. But who could <i>dream</i> +anything so wild and yet so definite? Only the passion of +orchestras, the fire-flight of the last movement of the C minor +symphony, can in the realms of art give utterance to the spirit of +scenes like this.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX">INDEX</a></h3> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Aar, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg020">20</a></li> + +<li>Abano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Abruzzi, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg230">230</a>, <a href="#pg235">235</a>, <a href= +"#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Acciaiuoli, Agnolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a></li> + +<li>Acciauoli, the, iii. <a href="#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Accolti, Bernardo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Accona, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a>, <a href= +"#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>Accoramboni, Camillo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Claudio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg089">89</a>:</li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Flaminio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg099">99</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg100">100</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg103">103</a> foll., <a href= +"ii.html#pg118">118</a> foll., <a href= +"ii.html#pg126">126</a>:</li> + +<li>Marcello, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a> foll., <a href= +"ii.html#pg099">99</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg103">103</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg105">105</a>:</li> + +<li>Mario, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Ottavio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Scipione, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Tarquinia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg089">89</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg092">92</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a>:</li> + +<li>Vittoria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg089">89</a>-125</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="noindent"> +<li>Achilles, iii. <a href="#pg286">286</a></li> + +<li>Achradina, iii. <a href="#pg321">321</a>, <a href= +"#pg324">324</a></li> + +<li>Aci, iii. <a href="#pg287">287</a></li> + +<li>Aci Castello, iii. <a href="#pg284">284</a></li> + +<li>Acis and Galatea, iii. <a href="#pg284">284</a>, <a href= +"#pg285">285</a></li> + +<li>Acropolis, the, iii. <a href="#pg339">339</a>, <a href= +"#pg344">344</a>, <a href="#pg347">347</a></li> + +<li>Actium, iii. <a href="#pg364">364</a></li> + +<li>Adda, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg051">51</a>, <a href="i.html#pg062">62</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg063">63</a>, <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a></li> + +<li>Addison, i. <a href="i.html#pg003">3</a></li> + +<li>Adelaide, Queen of Lothair, King of Italy, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg178">178</a></li> + +<li>Adelaisie (wife of Berald des Baux), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Adrian VI. (Pope), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg251">251</a></li> + +<li>Adriatic, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg003">3</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>Æ, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Æschylus, iii. <a href="#pg162">162</a>, <a href= +"#pg271">271</a>, <a href="#pg345">345</a>, <a href= +"#pg358">358</a>-362</li> + +<li>Affò, Padre Ireneo, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg363">363</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Agrigentines, the, iii. <a href="#pg335">335</a></li> + +<li>Agrigentum, iii. <a href="#pg266">266</a></li> + +<li>Ajaccio, i. <a href="i.html#pg104">104</a>-120</li> + +<li>Alamanni, Antonio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg328">328</a></li> + +<li>Alban Hills, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg032">32</a></li> + +<li>Albany, Countess of, i. <a href="i.html#pg352">352</a></li> + +<li>Alberti, house of the, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg213">213</a></li> + +<li>Alberti, Leo Battista, i. <a href="i.html#pg216">216</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg021">21</a>-29; iii. <a href= +"#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Albizzi, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg209">209</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg213">213</a> foll., +<a href="ii.html#pg221">221</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Albizzi, Maso degli, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg213">213</a>-215</li> + +<li>Albizzi, Rinaldo degli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg215">215</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg218">218</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg220">220</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg221">221</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Albula, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg128">128</a>;</li> +</ul> + +<ul> +<li>Pass of, i. <a href="i.html#pg053">53</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="noindent"> +<li>Aleotti, Giambattista, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Alexander the Great, iii. <a href="#pg262">262</a></li> + +<li>Alexander VI., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg074">74</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg237">237</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg363">363</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Alexandria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg019">19</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg189">189</a>, <a href="#pg190">190</a>, <a href= +"#pg201">201</a>, <a href="#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Alfieri, i. <a href="i.html#pg342">342</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg345">345</a>-359</li> + +<li>Alfonso of Aragon, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg203">203</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg189">189</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>Alps, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a>-67, <a href= +"i.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href="i.html#pg123">123</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg126">126</a>, <a href="i.html#pg133">133</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg209">209</a>, <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg008">8</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg129">129</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a> _et passim_</li> + +<li>Amadeo, Gian Antonio, i. <a href="i.html#pg146">146</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg150">150</a>, <a href="i.html#pg151">151</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg191">191</a>-193, <a href= +"i.html#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Amalasuntha, daughter of Theodoric the Ostrogoth, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg013">13</a></li> + +<li>Amalfi, i. <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_; iii. <a +href="#pg250">250</a>-261</li> + +<li>Ambrogini family, iii. <a href="#pg101">101</a></li> + +<li>Ambrogini, Angelo. (_See_ Poliziano, Angelo)</li> + +<li>Ambrogini, Benedetto, iii. <a href="#pg101">101</a>, <a href= +"#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Ampezzo, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Ana-Capri, iii. <a href="#pg231">231</a>, <a href= +"#pg232">232</a>, <a href="#pg271">271</a></li> + +<li>Anapus, the, iii. <a href="#pg326">326</a>, <a href= +"#pg328">328</a></li> + +<li>Anchises, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Ancona, i. <a href="i.html#pg196">196</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg198">198</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg055">55</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg199">199</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Ancona, Professor d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg276">276</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Andrea, Giovann', i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Andreini, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Angeli, Niccolo, iii. <a href="#pg151">151</a></li> + +<li>Angelico, Fra, i. <a href="i.html#pg100">100</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg240">240</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg049">49</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href="#pg061">61</a>, <a href= +"#pg147">147</a>-149, <a href="#pg151">151</a>, <a href= +"#pg248">248</a></li> + +<li>Angelo, S., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>Angelo, Giovan. (_See_ Pius IV.)</li> + +<li>Angiolieri, Cecco, iii. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a> <a href= +"#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Anguillara, Deifobo, Count of, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Anjou, house of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Ansano, S., iii. <a href="#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Anselmi, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Antegnate, i. <a href="i.html#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Antelao, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Antibes, i. <a href="i.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Antinoë, iii. <a href="#pg191">191</a>, <a href= +"#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Antinoopolis, iii. <a href="#pg191">191</a>, <a href= +"#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Antinous, iii. <a href="#pg184">184</a>-197, <a href= +"#pg200">200</a>-229</li> + +<li>Antipater, iii. <a href="#pg322">322</a>, <a href= +"#pg362">362</a></li> + +<li>Antiquari, Jacobo, iii. <a href="#pg126">126</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Antonio da Venafro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Aosta, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Apennines, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg099">99</a>, <a href="i.html#pg133">133</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg007">7</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg008">8</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg037">37</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg062">62</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg065">65</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg132">132</a> foll., <a href= +"ii.html#pg145">145</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg091">91</a> _et passim_</li> + +<li>Apollonius of Tyana, iii. <a href="#pg216">216</a></li> + +<li>Apulia, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_; iii. <a href= +"#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Aquaviva, Dominico d', ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Aquila, i. <a href="i.html#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Aragazzi, Bartolommeo, iii. <a href="#pg095">95</a>-100</li> + +<li>Aragon, Kings of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Arausio, i. <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Archimedes, iii. <a href="#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Arcipreti family, the, iii. <a href="#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Ardoin of Milan, iii. <a href="#pg299">299</a>, <a href= +"#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Aretine, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Aretino, Pietro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Aretino, Spinello, iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Aretusi, Cesare, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Arezzo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg214">214</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg007">7</a>, <a href="#pg091">91</a>, <a href="#pg096">96</a>, +<a href="#pg151">151</a> _note_;</li> +</ul> + +<ul> +<li>Bishop of, iii. <a href="#pg074">74</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="noindent"> +<li>Ariosto, i. <a href="i.html#pg071">71</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg264">264</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg280">280</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg336">336</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Aristides, iii. <a href="#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Aristophanes, i. <a href="i.html#pg084">84</a> _note_; iii. <a +href="#pg161">161</a>, <a href="#pg341">341</a>, <a href= +"#pg351">351</a>, <a href="#pg353">353</a></li> + +<li>Aristotle, i. <a href="i.html#pg249">249</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg074">74</a>; iii. <a href="#pg309">309</a></li> + +<li>Aristoxenus, iii. <a href="#pg262">262</a>, <a href= +"#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Arles, i. <a href="i.html#pg076">76</a>-81;</li> +</ul> + +<ul> +<li>King of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="noindent"> +<li>Arno, the, iii. <a href="#pg091">91</a>;</li> +</ul> + +<ul> +<li>valley of, iii. <a href="#pg041">41</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="noindent"> +<li>Arosa, valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg033">33</a></li> + +<li>Arqua, i. <a href="i.html#pg167">167</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Arrian, iii. <a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Aruns, iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Ascham, Roger, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg266">266</a></li> + +<li>Asciano, iii. <a href="#pg086">86</a>, <a href= +"#pg087">87</a></li> + +<li>Asinarus, iii. <a href="#pg327">327</a></li> + +<li>Assisi, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg039">39</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg043">43</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg044">44</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>; iii. <a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a +href="#pg068">68</a>, <a href="#pg111">111</a>, <a href= +"#pg114">114</a>, <a href="#pg140">140</a></li> + +<li>Asso, the, iii. <a href="#pg108">108</a></li> + +<li>Asti, i. <a href="i.html#pg347">347</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg348">348</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Astolphus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Athens, i. <a href="i.html#pg243">243</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg156">156</a>, <a href="#pg169">169</a>, <a href= +"#pg182">182</a>, <a href="#pg188">188</a>, <a href= +"#pg207">207</a>, <a href="#pg323">323</a>, <a href= +"#pg339">339</a>-364</li> + +<li>Athens, Duke of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg207">207</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg208">208</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Atrani, iii. <a href="#pg251">251</a>, <a href= +"#pg254">254</a></li> + +<li>Attendolo, Sforza, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Atti, Isotta degli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg017">17</a> and +_note_, <a href="ii.html#pg020">20</a></li> + +<li>Augustine, S., i. <a href="i.html#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Augustus, Emperor, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>; iii. <a href="#pg215">215</a></li> + +<li>Aurelius, Marcus, iii. <a href="#pg164">164</a>, <a href= +"#pg200">200</a></li> + +<li>Ausonias, iii. <a href="#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Aversa, iii. <a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a href= +"#pg299">299</a>, <a href="#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Avignon, i. <a href="i.html#pg069">69</a>-71, <a href= +"i.html#pg077">77</a>, <a href="i.html#pg081">81</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg086">86</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg051">51</a>, <a href="#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>Azzo (progenitor of Este and Brunswick), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Azzo (son of Sigifredo), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Badrutt, Herr Caspar, i. <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Baffo, i. <a href="i.html#pg259">259</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Baganza, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Baglioni, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg071">71</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg236">236</a>; iii. <a href="#pg081">81</a>, <a +href="#pg113">113</a>-115, <a href="#pg119">119</a>-136</li> + +<li>Baglioni, Annibale, iii. <a href="#pg132">132</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Astorre, iii. <a href="#pg113">113</a>, <a href= +"#pg114">114</a>, <a href="#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"#pg122">122</a>, <a href="#pg125">125</a>, <a href= +"#pg126">126</a>:</li> + +<li>Atalanta, iii. <a href="#pg116">116</a>, <a href= +"#pg124">124</a>, <a href="#pg127">127</a>-129:</li> + +<li>Braccio, iii. <a href="#pg134">134</a>:</li> + +<li>Carlo Barciglia, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a>:</li> + +<li>Constantino, iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a>:</li> + +<li>Eusebio, iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a>:</li> + +<li>Filene, iii. <a href="#pg132">132</a>:</li> + +<li>Galeotto, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a>, <a href= +"#pg132">132</a>:</li> + +<li>Gentile, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg042">42</a>, iii. <a href= +"#pg122">122</a>, <a href="#pg132">132</a>:</li> + +<li>Gian-Paolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg220">220</a>, iii. <a href="#pg116">116</a>, <a href= +"#pg117">117</a>, <a href="#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"#pg125">125</a>, <a href="#pg127">127</a>, <a href= +"#pg128">128</a>, <a href="#pg130">130</a>-132:</li> + +<li>Gismondo, iii. <a href="#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"#pg126">126</a>, <a href="#pg127">127</a>:</li> + +<li>Grifone, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a>:</li> + +<li>Grifonetto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, iii. <a href= +"#pg113">113</a>, <a href="#pg114">114</a>, <a href= +"#pg124">124</a>-129:</li> + +<li>Guido, iii. <a href="#pg121">121</a>, <a href="#pg126">126</a>, +<a href="#pg127">127</a>:</li> + +<li>Ippolita, iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a>:</li> + +<li>Malatesta, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg254">254</a>, iii. <a href="#pg127">127</a>, <a href= +"#pg132">132</a>:</li> + +<li>Marcantonio, iii. <a href="#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"#pg125">125</a>, <a href="#pg130">130</a>:</li> + +<li>Morgante, iii. <a href="#pg119">119</a> _note_ 2:</li> + +<li>Niccolo, iii. <a href="#pg120">120</a>:</li> + +<li>Orazio, iii. <a href="#pg127">127</a>, <a href= +"#pg132">132</a>:</li> + +<li>Pandolfo, iii. <a href="#pg120">120</a>:</li> + +<li>Pietro Paolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>:</li> + +<li>Ridolfo (1), iii. <a href="#pg120">120</a>, <a href= +"#pg121">121</a>:</li> + +<li>Ridolfo (2), iii. <a href="#pg133">133</a>, <a href= +"#pg134">134</a>:</li> + +<li>Simonetto, iii. <a href="#pg123">123</a>, <a href= +"#pg124">124</a>, <a href="#pg126">126</a>:</li> + +<li>Taddeo, iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a>:</li> + +<li>Troilo, iii. <a href="#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"#pg127">127</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Baiæ, iii. <a href="#pg242">242</a></li> + +<li>Balzac, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a></li> + +<li>Bandello, i. <a href="i.html#pg155">155</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg157">157</a>, <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg270">270</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg116">116</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg277">277</a></li> + +<li>Bandinelli, Messer Francesco, iii. <a href= +"#pg010">10</a>-12</li> + +<li>Barano, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>-58</li> + +<li>Barbarossa, Frederick, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg201">201</a>; iii. <a href="#pg007">7</a>, <a +href="#pg271">271</a>, <a href="#pg290">290</a>, <a href= +"#pg306">306</a> _note_ 2</li> + +<li>Bari, Duke of. (_See_ Sforza, Lodovico)</li> + +<li>Bartolo, San, iii. <a href="#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>Bartolommeo, Fra, iii. <a href="#pg063">63</a>, <a href= +"#pg099">99</a></li> + +<li>Basaiti, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Basella, i. <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a></li> + +<li>Basinio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a></li> + +<li>Basle, i. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Bassano, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Bastelica, i. <a href="i.html#pg109">109</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg113">113</a>, <a href="i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Bastia, Matteo di, i. <a href="i.html#pg216">216</a></li> + +<li>Battagli, Gian Battista, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg216">216</a></li> + +<li>Battifolle, Count Simone da, iii. <a href="#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Baudelaire, iii. <a href="#pg280">280</a></li> + +<li>Baveno, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Bayard, i. <a href="i.html#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Bazzi, Giovannantonio. (_See_ Sodoma)</li> + +<li>Beatrice, Countess, iii. <a href="#pg144">144</a></li> + +<li>Beatrice, Dante's, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Beatrice of Lorraine, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a></li> + +<li>Beaumarchais, i. <a href="i.html#pg228">228</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg229">229</a>, <a href="i.html#pg234">234</a></li> + +<li>Beaumont and Fletcher, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Becchi, Gentile, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg192">192</a></li> + +<li>Beethoven, i. <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg249">249</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a></li> + +<li>Belcari, Feo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Belcaro, iii. <a href="#pg066">66</a>, <a href= +"#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Belisarius, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg290">290</a></li> + +<li>Bellagio, i. <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Bellano, i. <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Belleforest, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg116">116</a></li> + +<li>Bellini, Gentile, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Bellini, Gian, i. <a href="i.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg269">269</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg055">55</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg135">135</a></li> + +<li>Bellinzona, i. <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Bembo, Pietro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg082">82</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>Benci, Spinello, iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Benedict, S., iii. <a href="#pg073">73</a>, <a href= +"#pg081">81</a>, <a href="#pg085">85</a>, <a href= +"#pg248">248</a></li> + +<li>Benevento, iii. <a href="#pg251">251</a>, <a href= +"#pg252">252</a>, <a href="#pg299">299</a></li> + +<li>Benincasa, Jacopo (father of S. Catherine of Siena), iii. <a +href="#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Benivieni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Bentivogli, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg178">178</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Bentivogli, Alessandro de', i. <a href="i.html#pg155">155</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg156">156</a></li> + +<li>Bentivogli, Ercole de', ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Bentivoglio, Ermes, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Benzone, Giorgio, i. <a href="i.html#pg194">194</a></li> + +<li>Beral des Baux, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Berangère des Baux, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Berceto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg131">131</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg133">133</a></li> + +<li>Berenger, King of Italy, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> + +<li>Berenger, Raymond, i. <a href="i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Bergamo, i. <a href="i.html#pg190">190</a>-207; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>Bernardino, S., iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a>, <a href= +"#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Bernardo, iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a>-75</li> + +<li>Bernardo da Campo, i. <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Berne, i. <a href="i.html#pg020">20</a></li> + +<li>Bernhardt, Madame, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg108">108</a></li> + +<li>Berni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Bernina, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg037">37</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg055">55</a>-57, <a href="i.html#pg060">60</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href="i.html#pg126">126</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg128">128</a></li> + +<li>Bernini, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg159">159</a></li> + +<li>Bersaglio, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Bervic, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Besa, iii. <a href="#pg190">190</a>, <a href="#pg191">191</a>, +<a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Besozzi, Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg156">156</a></li> + +<li>Bevagna, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg038">38</a></li> + +<li>Beyle, Henri, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Bianco, Bernardo, i. <a href="i.html#pg177">177</a></li> + +<li>Bibbiena, Cardinal, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg082">82</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Bibboni, Francesco, or Cecco, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg327">327</a>-341</li> + +<li>Bion, i. <a href="i.html#pg152">152</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg303">303</a></li> + +<li>Biondo, Flavio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg028">28</a></li> + +<li>Bisola, Lodovico, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Bithynia, iii. <a href="#pg208">208</a></li> + +<li>Bithynium, iii. <a href="#pg187">187</a>, <a href= +"#pg208">208</a></li> + +<li>Blacas (a knight of Provence), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Blake, the poet, i. <a href="i.html#pg101">101</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg265">265</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg166">166</a>, <a href="#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Boccaccio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg007">7</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg208">208</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg260">260</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg272">272</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg277">277</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg334">334</a>; iii. <a href="#pg016">16</a>, <a +href="#pg050">50</a>, <a href="#pg248">248</a>, <a href= +"#pg293">293</a></li> + +<li>Bocognano, i. <a href="i.html#pg109">109</a>-111, <a href= +"i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Bohemond, Prince of Tarentum, iii. <a href="#pg297">297</a>, <a +href="#pg298">298</a></li> + +<li>Boiardo, Matteo Maria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Boldoni, Polidoro, i. <a href="i.html#pg183">183</a></li> + +<li>Bologna, i. <a href="i.html#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg155">155</a>, <a href="i.html#pg192">192</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg196">196</a>, <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg029">29</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Bologna, Gian, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg086">86</a></li> + +<li>Bolsena, iii. <a href="#pg140">140</a>, <a href= +"#pg141">141</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Lake of, iii. <a href="#pg022">22</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Bona of Savoy (wife of Galeazzo Maria Sforza), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg230">230</a></li> + +<li>Bondeno de' Roncori, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg178">178</a></li> + +<li>Bonifazio (of Canossa), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg169">169</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a></li> + +<li>Bordighera, i. <a href="i.html#pg102">102</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Bordone, Paris, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg109">109</a></li> + +<li>Borgia family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg117">117</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg363">363</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Borgia, Cesare, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg073">73</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg074">74</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg080">80</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg126">126</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg363">363</a> _note_; iii. <a href= +"#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Borgia, Lucrezia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg363">363</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Borgia, Roderigo, i. <a href="i.html#pg220">220</a>. (_See +also_ Alexander VI.)</li> + +<li>Borgognone, Ambrogio, i. <a href="i.html#pg146">146</a>-148; +iii. <a href="#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Bormio, i. <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Borromeo family, iii. <a href="#pg014">14</a></li> + +<li>Borromeo, Carlo, i. <a href="i.html#pg182">182</a></li> + +<li>Borromeo, Count Giberto, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg182">182</a></li> + +<li>Boscoli, i. <a href="i.html#pg341">341</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg246">246</a></li> + +<li>Bosola, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Botticelli, Sandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg266">266</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg029">29</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg180">180</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Bötticher, Charles, iii. <a href="#pg225">225</a></li> + +<li>Bourbon, Duke of, i. <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Constable of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg252">252</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Bracciano, Duke of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a> foll., +<a href="ii.html#pg104">104</a></li> + +<li>Bracciano, second Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg093">93</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg099">99</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg101">101</a></li> + +<li>Braccio, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href="i.html#pg204">204</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg207">207</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Braccio, Filippo da, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a>-126</li> + +<li>Bracciolini, Poggio, iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a>, <a href= +"#pg336">336</a></li> + +<li>Bragadin, Aloisio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg101">101</a></li> + +<li>Bramante, i. <a href="i.html#pg216">216</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Brancacci, Cardinal, iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>Brancaleone, Senator, iii. <a href="#pg336">336</a></li> + +<li>Brancaleoni family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Bregaglia, i. <a href="i.html#pg035">35</a>; + +<ul> +<li>valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Brenner, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Brenta, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a></li> + +<li>Brescia, i. <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg200">200</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> + +<li>Brest, Anna Maria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Brianza, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Brolio, iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Bronte, iii. <a href="#pg279">279</a></li> + +<li>Browne, Sir Thomas, i. <a href="i.html#pg044">44</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Browning, Robert, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg281">281</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Browning, Mrs., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg271">271</a>; iii. <a href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Bruni, Lionardo, iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a>, <a href= +"#pg098">98</a>, <a href="#pg099">99</a></li> + +<li>Buol family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg036">36</a>, <a href="i.html#pg040">40</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg041">41</a>, <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Buol, Herr, i. <a href="i.html#pg034">34</a>-36</li> + +<li>Buonaparte family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg119">119</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg120">120</a></li> + +<li>Buonarroti, Michel Angelo, i. <a href="i.html#pg176">176</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg193">193</a>, <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg236">236</a>, <a href="i.html#pg243">243</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg021">21</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg040">40</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg152">152</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg158">158</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg161">161</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg178">178</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg332">332</a>; iii. <a href="#pg020">20</a>, <a +href="#pg022">22</a>, <a href="#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"#pg146">146</a>, <a href="#pg150">150</a>, <a href= +"#pg154">154</a>, <a href="#pg161">161</a></li> + +<li>Buonconvento, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a>, <a href= +"#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Burano, i. <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a></li> + +<li>Burgundy, Duke of, i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg203">203</a></li> + +<li>Burne-Jones, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Busti, Agostino, i. <a href="i.html#pg159">159</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg161">161</a>, <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a></li> + +<li>Byron, i. <a href="i.html#pg280">280</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg007">7</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg013">13</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg146">146</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg162">162</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Cadenabbia, i. <a href="i.html#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Cadore, i. <a href="i.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Cæsarea, ii. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Cagli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>Cajano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg221">221</a></li> + +<li>Calabria, iii. <a href="#pg305">305</a>; + +<ul> +<li>mountains of, iii.? <a href="#pg288">288</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Calabria, Duke of, iii. <a href="#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Calascibetta, iii. <a href="#pg302">302</a></li> + +<li>Caldora, Giovanni Antonio, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Caldora, Jacopo, i. <a href="i.html#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Caligula, i. <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>-136; iii. <a href= +"#pg002">2</a>, <a href="#pg156">156</a>, <a href="#pg163">163</a>, +<a href="#pg197">197</a>, <a href="#pg273">273</a>, <a href= +"#pg274">274</a></li> + +<li>Calles (Cagli), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Camargue, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg078">78</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Camerino, Duchy of, i. <a href="i.html#pg185">185</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a></li> + +<li>Campagna, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg032">32</a></li> + +<li>Campaldino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg206">206</a></li> + +<li>Campanella, iii. <a href="#pg020">20</a>, <a href= +"#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Campèll (or Campbèll) family, the i. <a href= +"i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href="i.html#pg062">62</a> and +_note_</li> + +<li>Campione, i. <a href="i.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Canale, Messer Carlo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg363">363</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Cannaregio, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href="i.html#pg339">339</a></li> + +<li>Cannes, i. <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg143">143</a></li> + +<li>Canonge, Jules, i. <a href="i.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Canossa, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg163">163</a>-179</li> + +<li>Cantù, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Cap S. Martin, i. <a href="i.html#pg090">90</a></li> + +<li>Capello, Bianca, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg093">93</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg126">126</a></li> + +<li>Capponi, Agostino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg246">246</a></li> + +<li>Capponi, Niccolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Capri, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg058">58</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg242">242</a>, <a href="#pg256">256</a>, <a href= +"#pg269">269</a>-276</li> + +<li>Caracalla, i. <a href="i.html#pg135">135</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Cardona, Viceroy, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg244">244</a></li> + +<li>Carducci, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Carini, Baronessa di, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg276">276</a></li> + +<li>Carlyle (quoted), i. <a href="i.html#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Carmagnola, i. <a href="i.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg200">200</a>, <a href="i.html#pg208">208</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Carmagnuola, Bussoni di, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg017">17</a> +and _note_</li> + +<li>Carpaccio, Vittore, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg270">270</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg042">42</a></li> + +<li>Carpegna, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Carpi, Duchy of, i. <a href="i.html#pg185">185</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Carpi, the princes of, i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Carrara range, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg134">134</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg146">146</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg218">218</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Casamicciola, iii. <a href="#pg234">234</a>, <a href= +"#pg239">239</a></li> + +<li>Casanova, i. <a href="i.html#pg259">259</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Cascese, Santi da, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Casentino, iii. <a href="#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Cassinesi, the, iii. <a href="#pg248">248</a></li> + +<li>Cassius, Dion, iii. <a href="#pg191">191</a>, <a href= +"#pg193">193</a>, <a href="#pg195">195</a>-197, <a href= +"#pg219">219</a></li> + +<li>Castagniccia, i. <a href="i.html#pg110">110</a></li> + +<li>Castagno, Andrea del, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg233">233</a></li> + +<li>Castellammare, i. <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_; iii. +<a href="#pg232">232</a>, <a href="#pg250">250</a>, <a href= +"#pg276">276</a></li> + +<li>Casti, Abbé, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Castiglione, i. <a href="i.html#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg145">145</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg068">68</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg080">80</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg082">82</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg106">106</a>, <a href="#pg108">108</a></li> + +<li>Castro Giovanni, mountains of, iii. <a href="#pg279">279</a>, +<a href="#pg302">302</a>, <a href="#pg304">304</a>, <a href= +"#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Catania, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_; iii. <a +href="#pg279">279</a>, <a href="#pg280">280</a>, <a href= +"#pg288">288</a>, <a href="#pg302">302</a>, <a href= +"#pg304">304</a>, <a href="#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Catherine, S. (of Alexandria), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href="i.html#pg142">142</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg153">153</a>, <a href="i.html#pg155">155</a>-157, <a +href="i.html#pg178">178</a>; iii. <a href="#pg055">55</a>, <a +href="#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Catherine, S. (of Sienna), i. <a href="i.html#pg070">70</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg048">48</a>-65</li> + +<li>Catria, iii. <a href="#pg073">73</a></li> + +<li>Catullus, iii. <a href="#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Cavalcanti, Guido, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg308">308</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg325">325</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Cavicciuoli, Messer Guerra, iii. <a href="#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Cavro, i. <a href="i.html#pg109">109</a></li> + +<li>Cécile (Passe Rose), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Cefalú, iii. <a href="#pg291">291</a></li> + +<li>Cellant, Contessa di, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg157">157</a>-159</li> + +<li>Cellant, Count of, i. <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Cellini, Benvenuto, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg189">189</a>, <a href="i.html#pg240">240</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg241">241</a>, <a href="i.html#pg328">328</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg025">25</a></li> + +<li>Celsano, i. <a href="i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Celsus, iii. <a href="#pg211">211</a>, <a href= +"#pg219">219</a>, <a href="#pg220">220</a></li> + +<li>Cenci, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg017">17</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg089">89</a></li> + +<li>Cenci, Beatrice, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Ceno, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg183">183</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>Centorbi, iii. <a href="#pg302">302</a></li> + +<li>Cephalonia, iii. <a href="#pg363">363</a></li> + +<li>Cephissus, the, iii. <a href="#pg350">350</a></li> + +<li>Cerami, iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Cervantes, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a></li> + +<li>Cesena, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Cetona, iii. <a href="#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Chalcedon, iii. <a href="#pg212">212</a></li> + +<li>Châlons, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Chapman, George, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Charles IV., iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Charles V., i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg188">188</a>, <a href="i.html#pg319">319</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg338">338</a>, <a href="i.html#pg339">339</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg202">202</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg257">257</a></li> + +<li>Charles VIII., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg067">67</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg132">132</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg183">183</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg189">189</a> and _note_, <a href= +"ii.html#pg191">191</a>-197, <a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg328">328</a></li> + +<li>Charles of Anjou, iii. <a href= +"#pg315">315</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Charles the Bold, i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Charles Martel, i. <a href="i.html#pg075">75</a></li> + +<li>Charles of Valois, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg207">207</a></li> + +<li>Chartres, i. <a href="i.html#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Chateaubriand, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg013">13</a></li> + +<li>Chatterton, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Chaucer, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg258">258</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg260">260</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg272">272</a></li> + +<li>Chiana, the, iii. <a href="#pg091">91</a>; valley of, iii. <a +href="#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg097">97</a></li> + +<li>Chianti, iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Chiara, S., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg036">36</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg037">37</a></li> + +<li>Chiarelli, the, of Fabriano, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Chiavari, iii. <a href="#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Chiavenna, i. <a href="i.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg180">180</a>, <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg130">130</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Chioggia, i. <a href="i.html#pg257">257</a>-261</li> + +<li>Chiozzia, i. <a href="i.html#pg350">350</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg351">351</a></li> + +<li>Chiusi, i. <a href="i.html#pg086">86</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg051">51</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg052">52</a>; iii. <a href="#pg022">22</a>, <a +href="#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg092">92</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Lake of, iii. <a href="#pg091">91</a>, <a href="#pg094">94</a>, +<a href="#pg101">101</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Chiusure, iii. <a href="#pg077">77</a>, <a href= +"#pg078">78</a>, <a href="#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Chivasso, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Christiern of Denmark, i. <a href="i.html#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Chur, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg065">65</a></li> + +<li>Cicero, iii. <a href="#pg321">321</a></li> + +<li>Ciclopidi rocks, iii. <a href="#pg284">284</a></li> + +<li>Cima, i. <a href="i.html#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Cimabue, iii. <a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"#pg144">144</a></li> + +<li>Ciminian Hills, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg088">88</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg022">22</a></li> + +<li>Cini family. (_See_ Ambrogini)</li> + +<li>Cinthio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg272">272</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg277">277</a></li> + +<li>Ciompi, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg208">208</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Cisa, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Città della Pieve, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg051">51</a></li> + +<li>Città di Castello, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Ciuffagni, Bernardo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a></li> + +<li>Clair, S., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg037">37</a> and _note_</li> + +<li>Clairvaux, Abbot of, iii. <a href="#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Claudian, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg343">343</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg344">344</a></li> + +<li>Clemens Alexandrinus, iii. <a href="#pg204">204</a>, <a href= +"#pg217">217</a>, <a href="#pg219">219</a></li> + +<li>Clement VI., iii. <a href="#pg074">74</a>, <a href= +"#pg132">132</a></li> + +<li>Clement VII., i. <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg316">316</a>, <a href="i.html#pg317">317</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg321">321</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg247">247</a> +foll.; iii. <a href="#pg138">138</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Climmnus, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg039">39</a></li> + +<li>Cloanthus, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Clough, the poet, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Clusium, iii. <a href="#pg093">93</a>, <a href= +"#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Coire, i. <a href="i.html#pg183">183</a></li> + +<li>Col de Checruit, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Coleridge, S.T., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Colico, i. <a href="i.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg183">183</a></li> + +<li>Collalto, Count Salici da, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Colleoni family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg194">194</a></li> + +<li>Colleoni, Bartolommeo, i. <a href="i.html#pg192">192</a>-208; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Colleoni, Medea, i. <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg204">204</a></li> + +<li>Collona family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Colma, the, i. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a></li> + +<li>Colombini, iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Colonna, Francesco, iii. <a href="#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Colonna, Giovanni, iii. <a href="#pg125">125</a>, <a href= +"#pg254">254</a></li> + +<li>Colonus, the, iii. <a href="#pg350">350</a></li> + +<li>Columbus, i. <a href="i.html#pg097">97</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg237">237</a></li> + +<li>Commodus, i. <a href="i.html#pg135">135</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Comnena, Anna, iii. <a href="#pg297">297</a></li> + +<li>Como, i. <a href="i.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg174">174</a>-189</li> + +<li>Como, Lake of, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href="i.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg173">173</a>, <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg179">179</a>, <a href="i.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg183">183</a>-186</li> + +<li>Conrad (of Canossa), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg178">178</a></li> + +<li>Conrad, King of Italy, iii. <a href="#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Conradin, iii. <a href="#pg298">298</a></li> + +<li>Constance, daughter of King Roger of Sicily, iii. <a href= +"#pg297">297</a>, <a href="#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Constance of Aragon, wife of Frederick II., iii. <a href= +"#pg307">307</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Constantinople, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg186">186</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Contado, iii. <a href="#pg090">90</a></li> + +<li>Copton, iii. <a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Corfu, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_, <a href= +"i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Corgna, Bernardo da, iii. <a href="#pg125">125</a></li> + +<li>Corinth, iii. <a href="#pg212">212</a>, <a href= +"#pg322">322</a>, <a href="#pg342">342</a>, <a href= +"#pg362">362</a></li> + +<li>Cormayeur, valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg009">9</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg014">14</a>-16</li> + +<li>Correggio, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg140">140</a>, <a href="i.html#pg163">163</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg126">126</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg147">147</a>-162</li> + +<li>Corsica, i. <a href="i.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg102">102</a>-120; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg286">286</a></li> + +<li>Corte, i. <a href="i.html#pg110">110</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Corte Savella, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>Cortina, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Cortona, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a>-51, <a href= +"ii.html#pg214">214</a>; iii. <a href="#pg090">90</a>, <a href= +"#pg092">92</a>, <a href="#pg151">151</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Cortusi, the, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Corviolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg178">178</a></li> + +<li>Coryat, Tom, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Costa (of Venice), Antonio, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Costa (of Rome), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg033">33</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Courthezon, i. <a href="i.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Covo, i. <a href="i.html#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Cramont, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Credi, Lorenzo di, iii. <a href="#pg035">35</a></li> + +<li>Crema, i. <a href="i.html#pg194">194</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg209">209</a>-222</li> + +<li>Cremona, i. <a href="i.html#pg209">209</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg213">213</a>, <a href="i.html#pg215">215</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Crimisus, the, iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a>, <a href= +"#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Crotona, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Crowne, the dramatist, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg159">159</a></li> + +<li>Cuma, iii. <a href="#pg212">212</a></li> + +<li>Curtius, Lancinus, i. <a href="i.html#pg159">159</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg193">193</a></li> + +<li>Cyane, the, iii. <a href="#pg328">328</a></li> + +<li>Cybo, Franceschetto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Dalcò, Antonio, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Dandolo, Gherardo, i. <a href="i.html#pg198">198</a></li> + +<li>Dandolo, Matteo, iii. <a href="#pg133">133</a></li> + +<li>Daniel, Samuel (the poet), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Dante, i. <a href="i.html#pg029">29</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg080">80</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg005">5</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg006">6</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg013">13</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg023">23</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg065">65</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg137">137</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg206">206</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg207">207</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg277">277</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a>; iii. <a href="#pg002">2</a>, <a +href="#pg019">19</a>, <a href="#pg025">25</a>, <a href= +"#pg036">36</a>, <a href="#pg043">43</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg067">67</a>, <a href="#pg069">69</a>, <a href="#pg073">73</a>, +<a href="#pg111">111</a>, <a href="#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"#pg149">149</a>, <a href="#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"#pg241">241</a>, <a href="#pg317">317</a></li> + +<li>D'Arcello, Filippo, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>Davenant, Sir William, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>David, Jacques Louis, i. <a href="i.html#pg071">71</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Davos, i. <a href="i.html#pg020">20</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg028">28</a>-47, <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href="i.html#pg058">58</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg065">65</a>, <a href="i.html#pg183">183</a></li> + +<li>Davos Dörfli, i. <a href="i.html#pg053">53</a></li> + +<li>De Comines, Philippe, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg190">190</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>-197; iii. <a href="#pg045">45</a> +_note_, <a href="#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>De Gié, Maréchal, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>De Musset, iii. <a href="#pg163">163</a>, <a href= +"#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>De Quincey, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg113">113</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg273">273</a> _note_</li> + +<li>De Rosset, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Dekker, Thomas, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Del Corvo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Della Casa, Giovanni, i. <a href="i.html#pg331">331</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg333">333</a></li> + +<li>Della Porta, i. <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a></li> + +<li>Della Quercia, i. <a href="i.html#pg192">192</a></li> + +<li>Della Rocca, Giudice, i. <a href="i.html#pg112">112</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Della Rovere family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a> (_see +also_ Rovere)</li> + +<li>Della Seta, Galeazzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Demetrius, iii. <a href="#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Demosthenes, iii. <a href="#pg323">323</a>, <a href= +"#pg324">324</a>, <a href="#pg326">326</a>, <a href= +"#pg327">327</a></li> + +<li>Desenzano, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Dickens, Charles, iii. <a href="#pg039">39</a></li> + +<li>Dionysius, iii. <a href="#pg322">322</a>, <a href= +"#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Dischma-Thal, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Dolce Acqua, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Dolcebono, Gian Giacomo, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg153">153</a></li> + +<li>Domenico da Leccio, Fra, iii. <a href="#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Dominic, S., i. <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Donatello, i. <a href="i.html#pg150">150</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg178">178</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg029">29</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg030">30</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a>, <a href="#pg097">97</a>, <a href= +"#pg100">100</a></li> + +<li>Doni, Adone, iii. <a href="#pg114">114</a></li> + +<li>Doré, Gustave, i. <a href="i.html#pg264">264</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Doria, Pietro, i. <a href="i.html#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Doria, Stephen, i. <a href="i.html#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Dorias, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg097">97</a></li> + +<li>Dossi, Dosso, i. <a href="i.html#pg166">166</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href="i.html#pg172">172</a></li> + +<li>Drayton, Michael, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Druids, the, iii. <a href="#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Drummond, William (the poet), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Dryden, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg006">6</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg007">7</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Duccio, iii. <a href="#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"#pg145">145</a></li> + +<li>Dürer, Albert, i. <a href="i.html#pg345">345</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg275">275</a>; iii. <a href="#pg260">260</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Eckermann, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg157">157</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg162">162</a></li> + +<li>Edolo, i. <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>Edrisi, iii. <a href="#pg308">308</a>, <a href= +"#pg309">309</a></li> + +<li>Egypt, iii. <a href="#pg189">189</a>, <a href="#pg190">190</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg192">192</a>, <a href="i.html#pg210">210</a> +foll.</li> + +<li>Eichens, Edward, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Eiger, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg012">12</a></li> + +<li>Electra, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg135">135</a></li> + +<li>'Eliot, George,' ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Emilia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a></li> + +<li>Emilia Pia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>Empedocles, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg172">172</a>, <a href="#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"#pg174">174</a>, <a href="#pg181">181</a>, <a href= +"#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Empoli, iii. <a href="#pg041">41</a>, <a href= +"#pg087">87</a></li> + +<li>Engadine, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg055">55</a>, <a href="i.html#pg056">56</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href="i.html#pg183">183</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg128">128</a></li> + +<li>Enna, iii. <a href="#pg302">302</a>, <a href="#pg303">303</a> +and _note_</li> + +<li>Ennius, iii. <a href="#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"#pg181">181</a></li> + +<li>Enza, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg166">166</a></li> + +<li>Enzio, King, iii. <a href="#pg298">298</a></li> + +<li>Epicurus, iii. <a href="#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"#pg174">174</a>, <a href="#pg181">181</a></li> + +<li>Eridanus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Eryx (Lerici), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Este, i. <a href="i.html#pg167">167</a></li> + +<li>Este family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg166">166</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg068">68</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg251">251</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Este, Azzo d', iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Beatrice d', i. <a href="i.html#pg150">150</a>:</li> + +<li>Cardinal d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Ercole d', i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg236">236</a>:</li> + +<li>Guelfo d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg177">177</a>:</li> + +<li>Guinipera d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg017">17</a>;</li> + +<li>Lucrezia d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg077">77</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg083">83</a>:</li> + +<li>Niccolo d', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Estrelles, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Etna, iii. <a href="#pg093">93</a>, <a href="#pg103">103</a>, +<a href="#pg198">198</a>, <a href="#pg279">279</a>-287, <a href= +"#pg319">319</a>, <a href="#pg325">325</a>, <a href= +"#pg327">327</a></li> + +<li>Etruscans, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Euganeans, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg281">281</a>, <a href="i.html#pg282">282</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Eugénie, Empress, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg119">119</a></li> + +<li>Eugenius IV., i. <a href="i.html#pg199">199</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg070">70</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg220">220</a></li> + +<li>Euhemerus, iii. <a href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Euripides, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg142">142</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg159">159</a> _note_, <a href= +"ii.html#pg335">335</a>; iii. <a href="#pg089">89</a>, <a href= +"#pg215">215</a>, <a href="#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Eusebius, iii. <a href="#pg197">197</a>, <a href= +"#pg219">219</a></li> + +<li>Everelina, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg166">166</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Fabretti, Raffaello, iii. <a href="#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Faenza, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Fairfax, Edward, translator of Tasso, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Fano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg059">59</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Fanum Fortunæ (Fano), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Farnese, Alessandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg317">317</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Julia, i. <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a>:</li> + +<li>Odoardo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg180">180</a>:</li> + +<li>Pier Luigi, iii. <a href="#pg133">133</a>:</li> + +<li>Ranunzio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg180">180</a>:</li> + +<li>Vittoria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Farnesi family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg117">117</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg180">180</a>; iii. <a href="#pg336">336</a></li> + +<li>Faro, the, iii. <a href="#pg301">301</a>, <a href= +"#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Favara, iii. <a href="#pg309">309</a></li> + +<li>Federighi, Antonio, iii. <a href="#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Federigo of Urbino. (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Feltre, Vittorino da, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Ferdinand, Grand Duke of Tuscany, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Ferdinand of Aragon, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg189">189</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg192">192</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg234">234</a>; iii. <a href="#pg274">274</a>, <a href= +"#pg276">276</a></li> + +<li>Fermo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg090">90</a></li> + +<li>Ferrara, i. <a href="i.html#pg166">166</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg167">167</a>, <a href="i.html#pg171">171</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg067">67</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg068">68</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg169">169</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg221">221</a>; iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Ferrara, Duke of, i. <a href="i.html#pg206">206</a></li> + +<li>Ferrari, Gaudenzio, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a>-139, <a +href="i.html#pg141">141</a>, <a href="i.html#pg162">162</a>-164, +<a href="i.html#pg177">177</a></li> + +<li>Ferretti, Professor, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg179">179</a></li> + +<li>Ferrucci, Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg343">343</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg254">254</a></li> + +<li>Fesch, Cardinal, i. <a href="i.html#pg118">118</a></li> + +<li>Fiesole, i. <a href="i.html#pg086">86</a></li> + +<li>Filelfo, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg025">25</a></li> + +<li>Filibert of Savoy, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Filiberta, Princess of Savoy, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Filippo, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Filonardi, Cinzio, iii. <a href="#pg133">133</a></li> + +<li>Fina, Santa, iii. <a href="#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>Finiguerra, Maso, i. <a href="i.html#pg218">218</a></li> + +<li>Finsteraarhorn, the, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg130">130</a></li> + +<li>Fiorenzuola, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg284">284</a></li> + +<li>Flaminian Way, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg055">55</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Flaxman, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Fletcher, the dramatist, i. <a href="i.html#pg358">358</a>; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Florence, i. <a href="i.html#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg316">316</a>, <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg319">319</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg005">5</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg145">145</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg198">198</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg201">201</a>-257, <a href= +"ii.html#pg259">259</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg306">306</a>; iii. <a href="#pg007">7</a>, <a +href="#pg010">10</a>, <a href="#pg021">21</a>, <a href= +"#pg132">132</a>, <a href="#pg151">151</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg317">317</a> _note_, _et passim_</li> + +<li>Florence, Duke of, i. <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Fluela, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg029">29</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg037">37</a>, <a href="i.html#pg054">54</a></li> + +<li>Fluela Bernina Pass, the, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a></li> + +<li>Fluela Hospice, i. <a href="i.html#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>Foglia, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg065">65</a></li> + +<li>Foiano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Folcioni, Signor, i. <a href="i.html#pg217">217</a></li> + +<li>Folengo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Folgore da San Gemignano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg053">53</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg001">1</a>-20, <a href="#pg067">67</a>, <a href= +"#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Foligno, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg037">37</a>-41, <a href= +"ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg052">52</a></li> + +<li>Fondi, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Ford, John (the dramatist), ii, <a href= +"ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg277">277</a></li> + +<li>Forio, iii. <a href="#pg236">236</a>, <a href= +"#pg237">237</a></li> + +<li>Fornovo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg132">132</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg180">180</a>-200</li> + +<li>Fortini, iii. <a href="#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Forulus (Furlo), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Forum Sempronii (Fossombrone), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Foscari, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Fosdinovo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg134">134</a>-137</li> + +<li>Fossato, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg052">52</a></li> + +<li>Fossombrone, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg058">58</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Fouquet, i. <a href="i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Francesco, Fra, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Francesco da Carrara, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Francesco Maria I. of Urbino. (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Francesco Maria II. of Urbino. (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Francia, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg033">33</a></li> + +<li>Francis I. of France, i. <a href="i.html#pg113">113</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg183">183</a>, <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Francis of Assisi, S., i. <a href="i.html#pg099">99</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg100">100</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg023">23</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg044">44</a>; iii. <a href="#pg057">57</a>, <a +href="#pg058">58</a>, <a href="#pg061">61</a>, <a href= +"#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>François des Baux, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Frederick, Emperor, i. <a href="i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Frederick II., Emperor, iii. <a href="#pg297">297</a>, <a href= +"#pg315">315</a> and _note_, <a href="#pg316">316</a>-318</li> + +<li>Frere, J.H., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Friedrichs, ----, iii. <a href="#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Frisingensis, Otto, iii. <a href="#pg007">7</a></li> + +<li>Friuli, i. <a href="i.html#pg351">351</a></li> + +<li>Furka, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg130">130</a></li> + +<li>Furlo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Furlo Pass, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg058">58</a></li> + +<li>Fusina, i. <a href="i.html#pg281">281</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Gaeta, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>Galatea, i. <a href="i.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Galileo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg027">27</a></li> + +<li>Galli Islands, iii. <a href="#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Gallio, Marchese Giacomo, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg179">179</a></li> + +<li>Gallo, Antonio di San, iii. <a href="#pg090">90</a>, <a href= +"#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Gallo, Francesco da San, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Garda, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Lake of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Gardon, the, valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg075">75</a></li> + +<li>Garfagnana, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Garigliano, iii. <a href="#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Gaston de Foix, i. <a href="i.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg161">161</a>, <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg010">10</a></li> + +<li>Gattamelata (Erasmo da Narni), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg197">197</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Gellias, iii. <a href="#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Gelon, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a>, <a href= +"#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Genoa, i. <a href="i.html#pg097">97</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg105">105</a>, <a href="i.html#pg113">113</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg259">259</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a>, <a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a href= +"#pg317">317</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Gentile, Girolamo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>George of Antioch, iii. <a href="#pg307">307</a>, <a href= +"#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Gérard, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Gerardo da Camino, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Ghiacciuolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Ghibellines, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg054">54</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg202">202</a> foll.; iii. <a href="#pg017">17</a>, +<a href="#pg043">43</a> _note_, <a href="#pg073">73</a>, <a href= +"#pg110">110</a></li> + +<li>Ghiberti, Lorenzo di Cino, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg030">30</a>; iii. <a href="#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Giannandrea, bravo of Verona, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>Giardini, iii. <a href="#pg287">287</a></li> + +<li>Giarre, iii. <a href="#pg279">279</a></li> + +<li>Gibbon, Edward (cited), i. <a href="i.html#pg346">346</a></li> + +<li>Ginori, Caterina, i. <a href="i.html#pg323">323</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg324">324</a></li> + +<li>Ginori, Lionardo, i. <a href="i.html#pg323">323</a></li> + +<li>Giordani, i. <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a></li> + +<li>Giorgione, i. <a href="i.html#pg345">345</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Giottino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Giotto, i. <a href="i.html#pg152">152</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg043">43</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg206">206</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href="#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"#pg248">248</a></li> + +<li>Giovanni da Fogliani, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Giovenone, i. <a href="i.html#pg139">139</a></li> + +<li>Giovio, i. <a href="i.html#pg322">322</a></li> + +<li>Girgenti, iii. <a href="#pg266">266</a>, <a href= +"#pg291">291</a>, <a href="#pg302">302</a>, <a href= +"#pg304">304</a>, <a href="#pg320">320</a>, <a href= +"#pg321">321</a>, <a href="#pg332">332</a>-338</li> + +<li>Giulio Romano, i. <a href="i.html#pg140">140</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg152">152</a></li> + +<li>Glastonbury, iii. <a href="#pg029">29</a>, <a href= +"#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Gnoli, Professor, i. <a href="i.html#pg327">327</a> _note_; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a> _note_, <a href= +"ii.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Godfrey, the Hunchback, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a></li> + +<li>Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a></li> + +<li>Goethe, i. <a href="i.html#pg005">5</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg006">6</a>, <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg011">11</a>, <a href="i.html#pg131">131</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg164">164</a>, <a href="i.html#pg237">237</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg026">26</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg157">157</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg162">162</a>; iii. <a href="#pg172">172</a>, <a href= +"#pg173">173</a>, <a href="#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Goldoni, i. <a href="i.html#pg259">259</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg345">345</a>-359</li> + +<li>Golo, the, valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Gonfalonier of Florence, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg206">206</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg209">209</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg243">243</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg245">245</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Gonzaga family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Gonzaga, Alessandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Elisabetta, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg073">73</a>:</li> + +<li>Grancesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg073">73</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg194">194</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg196">196</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg345">345</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg363">363</a> _note_:</li> + +<li>Giulia, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>:</li> + +<li>Leonora, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Gorbio, i. <a href="i.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Gozzoli, Benozzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg035">35</a></li> + +<li>Graubünden, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Gravedona, i. <a href="i.html#pg181">181</a></li> + +<li>Gray, the poet, i. <a href="i.html#pg003">3</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Greece, and the Greeks, i. <a href="i.html#pg101">101</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg102">102</a>, <a href="i.html#pg240">240</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg244">244</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg155">155</a> foll., <a href="#pg260">260</a> +foll., <a href="#pg285">285</a>-287, <a href="#pg290">290</a>-292, +<a href="#pg320">320</a> foll., <a href="#pg339">339</a>-364</li> + +<li>Greene, Robert, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg266">266</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Gregory VII., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg172">172</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg173">173</a>-176 (_see also_ Hildebrand)</li> + +<li>Gregory XI., iii. <a href="#pg051">51</a></li> + +<li>Gregory XIII., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg088">88</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg095">95</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg096">96</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg097">97</a></li> + +<li>Grenoble, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Grigioni, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Grindelwald, iii. <a href="#pg275">275</a></li> + +<li>Grisons, Canton of the, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg183">183</a>, <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Grivola, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg126">126</a></li> + +<li>Grosseto, iii. <a href="#pg066">66</a></li> + +<li>Grote, the historian, iii. <a href="#pg323">323</a></li> + +<li>Grumello, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Guarini, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Guazzi, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Gubbio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg052">52</a>-55, <a +href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg085">85</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg089">89</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg097">97</a></li> + +<li>Guelfs, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg054">54</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg202">202</a> foll.; +iii. <a href="#pg017">17</a>, <a href="#pg110">110</a>, <a href= +"#pg112">112</a></li> + +<li>Guérin, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg043">43</a></li> + +<li>Guicciardini, Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg319">319</a>; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg255">255</a></li> + +<li>Guiccioli, Countess, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg007">7</a></li> + +<li>Guidantonio, Count, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Guido, iii. <a href="#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Guidobaldo I. (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Guidobaldo II. (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Guillaume de Cabestan, i. <a href="i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Guiscard, Robert, iii. <a href="#pg262">262</a>, <a href= +"#pg297">297</a>, <a href="#pg298">298</a>, <a href= +"#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Gyas, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Gylippus, iii. <a href="#pg323">323</a>, <a href= +"#pg324">324</a>, <a href="#pg326">326</a>, <a href= +"#pg337">337</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Hadrian, iii. <a href="#pg164">164</a>, <a href= +"#pg185">185</a>, <a href="#pg187">187</a>-205, <a href= +"#pg208">208</a>, <a href="#pg210">210</a>, <a href= +"#pg212">212</a>, <a href="#pg224">224</a>, <a href= +"#pg225">225</a>, <a href="#pg226">226</a>, <a href= +"#pg228">228</a>, <a href="#pg343">343</a>, <a href= +"#pg345">345</a></li> + +<li>Halycus, the, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Handel, iii. <a href="#pg040">40</a></li> + +<li>Harmodius, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg135">135</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg155">155</a></li> + +<li>Harrington, Sir John, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Harvey, Gabriel, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Hauteville, house of, iii. <a href="#pg252">252</a>, <a href= +"#pg253">253</a>, <a href="#pg254">254</a>, <a href= +"#pg290">290</a>, <a href="#pg294">294</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Hazlitt, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg109">109</a></li> + +<li>Hegesippus, iii. <a href="#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Helbig, iii. <a href="#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Heliogabalus, i. <a href="i.html#pg135">135</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Henry II. of France, i. <a href="i.html#pg316">316</a></li> + +<li>Henry III., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a></li> + +<li>Henry IV., King of Italy, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg173">173</a>-177; +iii. <a href="#pg300">300</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Henry V., Emperor, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg178">178</a></li> + +<li>Henry VI. (of Sicily), iii. <a href="#pg297">297</a>, <a href= +"#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Henry VII., Emperor, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a>, <a href= +"#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Hermopolis, iii. <a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Herodotus, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Herrick, Robert, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg324">324</a></li> + +<li>Hesiod, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg338">338</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg172">172</a>, <a href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Hiero II., iii. <a href="#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Hildebrand, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg163">163</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg171">171</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg172">172</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg300">300</a> _note_ 2, <a href="#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Himera, the, iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Hispellum (Spello), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg038">38</a></li> + +<li>Hoby, Thomas, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Hoffnungsau, i. <a href="i.html#pg066">66</a></li> + +<li>Hohenstauffen, house of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg188">188</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg202">202</a>; iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a>, +<a href="#pg297">297</a>, <a href="#pg315">315</a></li> + +<li>Homer, i. <a href="i.html#pg084">84</a> _note_; iii. <a href= +"#pg155">155</a>, <a href="#pg226">226</a>, <a href= +"#pg286">286</a>, <a href="#pg287">287</a>, <a href= +"#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Honorius, Emperor, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Horace, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Howell, James, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg266">266</a></li> + +<li>Hugh, Abbot of Clugny, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg175">175</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg176">176</a></li> + +<li>Hugo, Victor, iii. <a href="#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Hunt, Leigh, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg146">146</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Hymettus, iii. <a href="#pg351">351</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Ibn-Hamûd, iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Ictinus, iii. <a href="#pg267">267</a>, <a href= +"#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Il Medeghino. (_See_ Medici, Gian Giacomo de')</li> + +<li>Ilaria del Caretto, iii. <a href="#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Ilario, Fra, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg137">137</a></li> + +<li>Ilissus, the, iii. <a href="#pg350">350</a></li> + +<li>Imola, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a></li> + +<li>Imperial, Prince, i. <a href="i.html#pg119">119</a></li> + +<li>Inn river, the, i, <a href="i.html#pg054">54</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Innocent III., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg203">203</a></li> + +<li>Innocent VIII., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Innsprück, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Isabella of Aragon, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg192">192</a></li> + +<li>Isac, Antonio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Ischia, iii. <a href="#pg233">233</a>, <a href= +"#pg234">234</a>, <a href="#pg236">236</a>, <a href= +"#pg238">238</a>, <a href="#pg241">241</a></li> + +<li>Isella, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Iseo, Lake, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg174">174</a></li> + +<li>Ithaca, iii. <a href="#pg364">364</a></li> + +<li>Itri, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg319">319</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Jacobshorn, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>James 'III. of England,' ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Joachim, Abbot, iii. <a href="#pg141">141</a>, <a href= +"#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Joan of Naples, i. <a href="i.html#pg081">81</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>John XXII., iii. <a href="#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>John XXIII., iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>John of Austria, Don, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg077">77</a></li> + +<li>Jonson, Ben, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Jourdain (the hangman of the Glacière), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Judith of Evreux, iii. <a href="#pg303">303</a></li> + +<li>Julia, daughter of Claudius, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg036">36</a></li> + +<li>Julian, iii. <a href="#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Julier, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg128">128</a></li> + +<li>Julius II., i. <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg074">74</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg220">220</a>; iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Jungfrau, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg012">12</a></li> + +<li>Justin Martyr, iii. <a href="#pg197">197</a>, <a href= +"#pg219">219</a></li> + +<li>Justinian, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg012">12</a></li> + +<li>Juvara, Aloisio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Juvenal, iii. <a href="#pg181">181</a>, <a href= +"#pg199">199</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Keats, the poet, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Kelbite dynasty, iii. <a href="#pg292">292</a>, <a href= +"#pg301">301</a></li> + +<li>Killigrew, the dramatist, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg159">159</a></li> + +<li>Klosters, i. <a href="i.html#pg030">30</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg046">46</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>La Cisa, the pass, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg132">132</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg133">133</a></li> + +<li>La Madonna di Tirano, i. <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>La Magione, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>-48</li> + +<li>La Rosa, i. <a href="i.html#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>La Spezzia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg137">137</a>-139, <a href= +"ii.html#pg143">143</a></li> + +<li>La Staffa family, the, iii. <a href="#pg113">113</a></li> + +<li>Lacca, iii. <a href="#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Lamb, Charles, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg110">110</a></li> + +<li>Lampridius, iii. <a href="#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Landona, iii. <a href="#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Lanini, i. <a href="i.html#pg139">139</a>-142, <a href= +"i.html#pg162">162</a></li> + +<li>Lanuvium, iii. <a href="#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Lars Porsena, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg052">52</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg093">93</a></li> + +<li>Laschi, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Le Prese, i. <a href="i.html#pg060">60</a></li> + +<li>Leake, Colonel, iii. <a href="#pg325">325</a></li> + +<li>Lecco, i. <a href="i.html#pg183">183</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Legnano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg198">198</a></li> + +<li>Lenz, i. <a href="i.html#pg065">65</a></li> + +<li>Leo IX., iii. <a href="#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Leo X., i. <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg088">88</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg246">246</a>; iii. <a href="#pg132">132</a></li> + +<li>Leonardo. (_See_ Vinci, Leonardo da)</li> + +<li>Leoncina, Monna Ippolita, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg308">308</a></li> + +<li>Leopardi, Alessandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg207">207</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg326">326</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Lepanto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg077">77</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg093">93</a></li> + +<li>Lepidus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg027">27</a></li> + +<li>Lerici, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg139">139</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg142">142</a>-145</li> + +<li>Les Baux, i. <a href="i.html#pg077">77</a>-81; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Leucadia, iii. <a href="#pg364">364</a></li> + +<li>Levezow, Von, iii. <a href="#pg211">211</a></li> + +<li>Leyva, Anton de, i. <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Lido, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg280">280</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg283">283</a>-286; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Liguria, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg097">97</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg178">178</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Lilyboeum, iii. <a href="#pg294">294</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Lioni, Leone, i. <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>L'Isle, i. <a href="i.html#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Livorno, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg214">214</a></li> + +<li>Livy, iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a>, <a href= +"#pg171">171</a></li> + +<li>Lo Spagna, iii. <a href="#pg114">114</a></li> + +<li>Lodi, i. <a href="i.html#pg216">216</a></li> + +<li>Lomazzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a></li> + +<li>Lombardy, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg121">121</a>, <a href="i.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg129">129</a>, <a href="i.html#pg133">133</a>-172, <a +href="i.html#pg209">209</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg129">129</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg132">132</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg147">147</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg165">165</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg182">182</a></li> + +<li>Lorenzaccio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg041">41</a></li> + +<li>Lorenzetti, Ambrogio, iii. <a href="#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"#pg036">36</a>, <a href="#pg043">43</a>, <a href= +"#pg044">44</a></li> + +<li>Lorenzo, Bernardo di, iii. <a href="#pg105">105</a></li> + +<li>Loreto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg097">97</a></li> + +<li>Lothair, King of Italy, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> + +<li>Louis XI, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg237">237</a></li> + +<li>Louis of Anjou, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>Lovere, i. <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a></li> + +<li>Loyola, Ignatius, iii. <a href="#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Lucan (quoted), i. <a href="i.html#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Lucca, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg203">203</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg211">211</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg214">214</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg218">218</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg286">286</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg004">4</a>, <a href="#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Lucca, Pauline, i. <a href="i.html#pg224">224</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg226">226</a>, <a href="i.html#pg227">227</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg229">229</a>, <a href="i.html#pg233">233</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg234">234</a>, <a href="i.html#pg237">237</a></li> + +<li>Lucera, iii. <a href="#pg315">315</a> and _note_</li> + +<li>Lucius III., iii. <a href="#pg312">312</a></li> + +<li>Lucretius, iii. <a href="#pg157">157</a>-183</li> + +<li>Lugano, i. <a href="i.html#pg125">125</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg128">128</a>, <a href="i.html#pg156">156</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Lugano, Lake, i. <a href="i.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg125">125</a>, <a href="i.html#pg169">169</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg185">185</a></li> + +<li>Luigi, Pier, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Luini, i. <a href="i.html#pg141">141</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg148">148</a>, <a href="i.html#pg153">153</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg154">154</a>, <a href="i.html#pg155">155</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg156">156</a>, <a href="i.html#pg157">157</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg162">162</a>, <a href="i.html#pg164">164</a>-166, <a +href="i.html#pg177">177</a>, <a href="i.html#pg178">178</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Luna, Etruscan, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Luziano of Lauranna, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Lyly, John, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Lysimeleia, iii. <a href="#pg327">327</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Macedonia, iii. <a href="#pg323">323</a></li> + +<li>Machiavelli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg041">41</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg117">117</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg219">219</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg220">220</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg225">225</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg250">250</a>; iii. <a href="#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Macugnaga, i. <a href="i.html#pg018">18</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg020">20</a>; iii. <a href="#pg282">282</a></li> + +<li>Madrid, iii. <a href="#pg223">223</a></li> + +<li>Magenta, i. <a href="i.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Maggiore, Lake, i. <a href="i.html#pg124">124</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Magnanapoli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg095">95</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg096">96</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Magnani, Giuseppe, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Magra, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg133">133</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg134">134</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Maitani, Lorenzo, iii. <a href="#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Majano, Benedetto da, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a></li> + +<li>Malamocco, i. <a href="i.html#pg257">257</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg280">280</a>, <a href="i.html#pg281">281</a></li> + +<li>Malaspina family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg134">134</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Malaspina, Moroello, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Malaterra, Godfrey, iii. <a href="#pg298">298</a></li> + +<li>Malatesta family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>-17, <a +href="ii.html#pg062">62</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg071">71</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg278">278</a>; iii. <a href="#pg121">121</a></li> + +<li>Malatesta, Gian Galeazzo, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg016">16</a></li> + +<li>Malatesta, Giovanni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Malatesta, Sigismondo Pandolfo, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg135">135</a>, <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg203">203</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>-21, <a href="ii.html#pg072">72</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg007">7</a></li> + +<li>Malfi, Duchess of, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Malghera, i. <a href="i.html#pg339">339</a></li> + +<li>Malipiero, Pasquale, i. <a href="i.html#pg200">200</a></li> + +<li>Maloja, i. <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg128">128</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg129">129</a>; + +<ul> +<li>the Pass of, i. <a href="i.html#pg053">53</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Malpaga, i. <a href="i.html#pg205">205</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg206">206</a></li> + +<li>Manente, M. Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Manfred, King, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg203">203</a></li> + +<li>Manfredi, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a></li> + +<li>Manfredi, Astorre, i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Manfredi, Taddeo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a></li> + +<li>Maniaces, iii. <a href="#pg299">299</a>, <a href= +"#pg301">301</a></li> + +<li>Mansueti, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Mantegna, i. <a href="i.html#pg176">176</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg100">100</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg197">197</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Mantinea, iii. <a href="#pg207">207</a></li> + +<li>Mantua, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg068">68</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg074">74</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg345">345</a></li> + +<li>Mantua, Dukes of, i. <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Mantua, Marquis of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg194">194</a>-196, +<a href="ii.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Marcellinus, Ammianus, iii. <a href="#pg197">197</a>, <a href= +"#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Marcellus, iii. <a href="#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>March, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Marches of Ancona, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Marecchia, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a></li> + +<li>Maremma, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg286">286</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg069">69</a>, <a href="#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Marenzio, iii. <a href="#pg037">37</a></li> + +<li>Margaret of Austria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Maria, Galeazzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Maria, Gian, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Maria Louisa, Duchess of Parma, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Marianazzo, robber chieftain, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg088">88</a></li> + +<li>Mariano family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg139">139</a></li> + +<li>Marignano, i. <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Marignano, Marquis of. (_See_ Medici, Gian Giacomo de')</li> + +<li>Mark, S., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Marlowe, Christopher, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg159">159</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg258">258</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg268">268</a> and _note_; iii. <a href= +"#pg228">228</a></li> + +<li>Maroggia, i. <a href="i.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Marseilles, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Marston, the dramatist, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg113">113</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Martelli, Giovan Battista, i. <a href="i.html#pg334">334</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg335">335</a></li> + +<li>Martelli, Luca, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Martial, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>; iii. <a href= +"i.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>Martin V., iii. <a href="#pg095">95</a></li> + +<li>Martinengo, i. <a href="i.html#pg203">203</a></li> + +<li>Martinengo family, i. <a href="i.html#pg204">204</a></li> + +<li>Martini, Biagio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Masaccio, i. <a href="i.html#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg145">145</a></li> + +<li>Masolino da Panicale, i. <a href="i.html#pg144">144</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg145">145</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Mason (artist), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg032">32</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Massinger, Philip, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Matarazzo, iii. <a href="#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"#pg122">122</a>, <a href="#pg128">128</a>, <a href= +"#pg130">130</a>, <a href="#pg134">134</a></li> + +<li>Matilda, Countess, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg165">165</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a>-173, <a href="ii.html#pg179">179</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg300">300</a> _note_ 2</li> + +<li>Matteo of Ajello, iii. <a href="#pg308">308</a> _note_, <a +href="#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Mauro, S., iii. <a href="#pg248">248</a></li> + +<li>Mayenfeld, i. <a href="i.html#pg065">65</a></li> + +<li>Mazara, iii. <a href="#pg281">281</a></li> + +<li>Mazzorbo, i. <a href="i.html#pg282">282</a></li> + +<li>Medici family, i. <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg315">315</a>-344; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg117">117</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg187">187</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg208">208</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg209">209</a> +foll., <a href="ii.html#pg245">245</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg247">247</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg278">278</a></li> + +<li>Medici, Alessandro de', i. <a href="i.html#pg315">315</a>-327, +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg248">248</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg251">251</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Battista de', i. <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a>:</li> + +<li>Bernardo de', i. <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a>:</li> + +<li>Bianca de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a>:</li> + +<li>Casa de', i. <a href="i.html#pg317">317</a>:</li> + +<li>Catherine de', i. <a href="i.html#pg316">316</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg076">76</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>:</li> + +<li>Clarina de', i. <a href="i.html#pg182">182</a>:</li> + +<li>Claudia de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg077">77</a>:</li> + +<li>Cosimo de', i. <a href="i.html#pg319">319</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg225">225</a> _note_, iii. <a href="#pg067">67</a>, <a +href="#pg247">247</a>:</li> + +<li>Cosimo (the younger) de', i. <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg330">330</a>, <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>, +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg257">257</a>:</li> + +<li>Ferdinand de', (Cardinal), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg093">93</a>:</li> + +<li>Francesco di Raffaello de', i. <a href="i.html#pg321">321</a>, +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg093">93</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg104">104</a>:</li> + +<li>Gabrio de', i. <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a>:</li> + +<li>Gian Giacomo de' (Il Medeghino), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg179">179</a>-188, iii. <a href="#pg067">67</a>:</li> + +<li>Giovanni de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg215">215</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg216">216</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg244">244</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg245">245</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg246">246</a> (_see also_ Leo X.):</li> + +<li>Giovanni de' (general), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg249">249</a>:</li> + +<li>Giuliano, son of Piero de', ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg232">232</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg318">318</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg334">334</a>:</li> + +<li>Giuliano de' (Duke of Nemours), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg244">244</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg245">245</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg247">247</a>:</li> + +<li>Giulio dei (_see_ Clement VII.):</li> + +<li>Ippolito de', i. <a href="i.html#pg316">316</a>-319, ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg248">248</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg251">251</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg255">255</a>:</li> + +<li>Isabella de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg093">93</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg104">104</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg105">105</a>:</li> + +<li>Lorenzino de', i. <a href="i.html#pg315">315</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg319">319</a>-335, <a href="i.html#pg338">338</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg341">341</a>-344, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>:</li> + +<li>Lorenzo de' (the Magnificent), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg067">67</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg187">187</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg216">216</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg218">218</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a> foll., +<a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg311">311</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg325">325</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg326">326</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg330">330</a>, +iii. <a href="#pg101">101</a>:</li> + +<li>Lorenzo de' (Duke of Urbino) (_see_ Urbino):</li> + +<li>Maddalena de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>:</li> + +<li>Piero de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg192">192</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg226">226</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg227">227</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg328">328</a>, iii. <a href="#pg101">101</a>:</li> + +<li>Pietro de', iii. <a href="#pg247">247</a>:</li> + +<li>Salvestro de', ii. <a href="ii.html#pg208">208</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Mediterranean, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg145">145</a></li> + +<li>Melfi, iii. <a href="#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Melo of Bari, iii. <a href="#pg299">299</a></li> + +<li>Meloria, the, iii. <a href="#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Menaggio, i. <a href="i.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Menander, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Mendelssohn, i. <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a></li> + +<li>Mendrisio, i. <a href="i.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Menoetes, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Mentone, i. <a href="i.html#pg083">83</a>-93, <a href= +"i.html#pg094">94</a>, <a href="i.html#pg098">98</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg102">102</a>, <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg106">106</a>; iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a></li> + +<li>Menzoni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg285">285</a></li> + +<li>Mer de Glace, iii. <a href="#pg282">282</a></li> + +<li>Meran, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Mercatello, Gentile, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Mesomedes, iii. 201</li> + +<li>Messina, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a>, <a href= +"#pg292">292</a> and _note_, <a href="#pg301">301</a></li> + +<li>Mestre, i. <a href="i.html#pg339">339</a></li> + +<li>Metaurus, or Metauro, the, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg058">58</a></li> + +<li>Mevania (Bevagna), ii. <a href="ii.html#pg038">38</a></li> + +<li>Michelangelo. (_See_ Buonarroti, Michel Angelo)</li> + +<li>Michelhorn, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Michelozzi, Michelozzo, iii. <a href="#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>Middleton, Thomas, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Mignucci, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a></li> + +<li>Milan, i. <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg019">19</a>, <a href="i.html#pg020">20</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href="i.html#pg121">121</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg124">124</a>, <a href="i.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg152">152</a>-161, <a href="i.html#pg168">168</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg178">178</a>, <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg203">203</a>, <a href="i.html#pg212">212</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg213">213</a>, <a href="i.html#pg223">223</a> +foll.; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg190">190</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg224">224</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg151">151</a> _note_, <a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a +href="#pg348">348</a></li> + +<li>Milan, Dukes of, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href="i.html#pg200">200</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg214">214</a></li> + +<li>Millet, iii. <a href="#pg077">77</a></li> + +<li>Milton, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg258">258</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg274">274</a>; iii. <a href="#pg025">25</a>, <a +href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href="#pg037">37</a>, <a href= +"#pg038">38</a>, <a href="#pg158">158</a>, <a href= +"#pg169">169</a>, <a href="#pg342">342</a></li> + +<li>Mino da Fiesole, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Mirandola, Duchy of, i. <a href="i.html#pg185">185</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Mirandola, the Counts of, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Mirandola, Pico della, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg021">21</a></li> + +<li>Mirano, i. <a href="i.html#pg294">294</a></li> + +<li>Miseno, iii. <a href="#pg238">238</a>, <a href= +"#pg239">239</a>, <a href="#pg242">242</a></li> + +<li>Mnesicles, iii. <a href="#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Mnestheus, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Modena, i. <a href="i.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg172">172</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg169">169</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg221">221</a></li> + +<li>Molsa, Francesco Maria, i. <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a></li> + +<li>Monaco, i. <a href="i.html#pg092">92</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Mondello, iii. <a href="#pg294">294</a></li> + +<li>Monreale, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg010">10</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg291">291</a>, <a href="#pg311">311</a>-314</li> + +<li>Mont Blanc, i. <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg126">126</a>, <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Cenis, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg174">174</a>:</li> + +<li>Cervin, i. <a href="i.html#pg169">169</a>:</li> + +<li>Chétif, i. <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a>:</li> + +<li>Finsteraarhorn, i. <a href="i.html#pg169">169</a>:</li> + +<li>Genêvre, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>:</li> + +<li>S. Michel, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg167">167</a>:</li> + +<li>de la Saxe, i. <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a>:</li> + +<li>Solaro, iii. <a href="#pg230">230</a>:</li> + +<li>Ventoux, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg022">22</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Montalcino, iii. <a href="#pg076">76</a>, <a href= +"#pg079">79</a>, <a href="#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Montalembert, iii. <a href="#pg249">249</a></li> + +<li>Montalto, Cardinal, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg095">95</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg098">98</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a> +(_see also_ Sixtus V.)</li> + +<li>Montdragon, i. <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Monte Adamello, i. <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a>, ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Amiata, iii. <a href="#pg042">42</a>, <a href="#pg069">69</a>, +<a href="#pg076">76</a>, <a href="#pg080">80</a>, <a href= +"#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg091">91</a>, <a href="#pg093">93</a>, +<a href="#pg103">103</a>, <a href="#pg104">104</a>, <a href= +"#pg106">106</a>, <a href="#pg108">108</a>:</li> + +<li>d'Asdrubale, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>:</li> + +<li>Aureo, iii. <a href="#pg253">253</a>:</li> + +<li>Calvo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg055">55</a>:</li> + +<li>Carboniano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>:</li> + +<li>Cassino, iii. <a href="#pg248">248</a>:</li> + +<li>Catini, iii. <a href="#pg004">4</a>:</li> + +<li>Catria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg068">68</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>, iii. <a +href="#pg111">111</a>:</li> + +<li>Cavallo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg094">94</a>:</li> + +<li>Cetona, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg051">51</a>, iii. <a href= +"#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Coppiolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a>:</li> + +<li>Delle Celle, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>:</li> + +<li>di Disgrazia, i. <a href="i.html#pg064">64</a>:</li> + +<li>Epomeo, iii. <a href="#pg234">234</a>, <a href= +"#pg236">236</a>, <a href="#pg237">237</a>-240, <a href= +"#pg241">241</a>:</li> + +<li>Fallonica, iii. <a href="#pg103">103</a>, <a href= +"#pg110">110</a>:</li> + +<li>Gargano, iii. <a href="#pg299">299</a>:</li> + +<li>Generoso, i. <a href="i.html#pg121">121</a>-132, <a href= +"i.html#pg173">173</a>:</li> + +<li>Leone, i. <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a>:</li> + +<li>Nerone, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>:</li> + +<li>Nuovo, iii. <a href="#pg242">242</a>:</li> + +<li>Oliveto, i. <a href="i.html#pg166">166</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg082">82</a>, iii. <a href="#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"#pg069">69</a>, <a href="#pg073">73</a>, <a href="#pg074">74</a> +foll., <a href="#pg151">151</a> _note_:</li> + +<li>d'Oro, i. <a href="i.html#pg105">105</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg111">111</a>:</li> + +<li>Pellegrino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg176">176</a>, iii. <a +href="#pg294">294</a>:</li> + +<li>Rosa, i. <a href="i.html#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg018">18</a>, <a href="i.html#pg105">105</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg125">125</a>, <a href="i.html#pg126">126</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg129">129</a>, <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg169">169</a>:</li> + +<li>Rosso, iii. <a href="#pg279">279</a>:</li> + +<li>Rotondo, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg033">33</a>:</li> + +<li>Salvadore, i. <a href="i.html#pg125">125</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg128">128</a>:</li> + +<li>Soracte, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg051">51</a>:</li> + +<li>Viso, i. <a href="i.html#pg126">126</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg134">134</a>, <a href="i.html#pg169">169</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg174">174</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Montefalco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>-37, <a href= +"ii.html#pg039">39</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Montefeltro family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg062">62</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg069">69</a>-72</li> + +<li>Montefeltro, Federigo di, i. <a href="i.html#pg207">207</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg208">208</a></li> + +<li>Montefeltro, Giovanna, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a></li> + +<li>Montélimart, i. <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Montepulciano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg214">214</a>; iii. <a href="#pg068">68</a>, <a href= +"#pg069">69</a>, <a href="#pg077">77</a>, <a href= +"#pg087">87</a>-102, <a href="#pg109">109</a>, <a href= +"#pg110">110</a></li> + +<li>Montferrat, Boniface, Marquis of, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Monti della Sibilla, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Monza, i. <a href="i.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Moors, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg094">94</a>; iii. <a href="#pg296">296</a>, <a href= +"#pg299">299</a>, <a href="#pg301">301</a></li> + +<li>Morbegno, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg051">51</a>, <a href="i.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Morea, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg339">339</a></li> + +<li>Morris, William, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a></li> + +<li>Morteratsch, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg056">56</a></li> + +<li>Mozart, i. <a href="i.html#pg223">223</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg227">227</a>, <a href="i.html#pg229">229</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg231">231</a>-237, <a href="i.html#pg249">249</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg153">153</a></li> + +<li>Mühlen, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg128">128</a></li> + +<li>Mulhausen, i. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Murano, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg282">282</a>, <a href="i.html#pg333">333</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Murillo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg153">153</a></li> + +<li>Mürren, i. <a href="i.html#pg009">9</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg011">11</a>, <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a></li> + +<li>Musset, De, i. <a href="i.html#pg342">342</a></li> + +<li>Mussulmans, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a>, <a href= +"#pg291">291</a>, <a href="#pg294">294</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg302">302</a>, <a href="#pg305">305</a>, <a href= +"#pg307">307</a>, <a href="#pg316">316</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Naples, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg188">188</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg189">189</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg234">234</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg282">282</a>; iii. <a href="#pg221">221</a>, <a href= +"#pg231">231</a>, <a href="#pg239">239</a>, <a href= +"#pg243">243</a>, <a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a href= +"#pg254">254</a>, <a href="#pg256">256</a>, <a href= +"#pg270">270</a>, <a href="#pg276">276</a>, <a href= +"#pg289">289</a>, <a href="#pg317">317</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Naples, Queens of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Napoleon Buonaparte, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg106">106</a>, <a href="i.html#pg118">118</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg119">119</a>, <a href="i.html#pg120">120</a></li> + +<li>Narni, i. <a href="i.html#pg086">86</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg034">34</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg038">38</a></li> + +<li>Nash, Thomas, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Nassaus, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Navone, Signor Giulio, iii. <a href="#pg004">4</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Naxos, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a></li> + +<li>Negro, Abbate de, iii. <a href="#pg078">78</a>, <a href= +"#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Nera, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg037">37</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Nero, i. <a href="i.html#pg135">135</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg156">156</a>, <a href="#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Neroni, Diotisalvi, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Niccolini, i. <a href="i.html#pg342">342</a></li> + +<li>Niccolo da Bari, S., iii. <a href="#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Niccolo da Uzzano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg215">215</a></li> + +<li>Nice, i. <a href="i.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg106">106</a>; iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a></li> + +<li>Nicholas II., iii. <a href="#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Nicholas V., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg028">28</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Nicholas the Pisan, iii. <a href="#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Nicolosi, iii. <a href="#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Nikias, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a>, <a href= +"#pg324">324</a>, <a href="#pg326">326</a>, <a href= +"#pg327">327</a></li> + +<li>Nile, the, iii. <a href="#pg190">190</a>, <a href= +"#pg201">201</a>, <a href="i.html#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Niolo, i. <a href="i.html#pg112">112</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Nisi, Messer Nicholò di, iii. <a href="#pg002">2</a>, <a +href="#pg003">3</a></li> + +<li>Nismes, i. <a href="i.html#pg074">74</a>-77</li> + +<li>Noel, Mr. Roden, i. <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a></li> + +<li>Norcia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg046">46</a>; iii. <a href="#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Normans (in Sicily), iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Novara, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg124">124</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Oberland valleys, i. <a href="i.html#pg012">12</a></li> + +<li>Oddantonio, Duke of Urbino, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Oddi family, the, iii. <a href="#pg113">113</a>, <a href= +"#pg119">119</a>, <a href="#pg122">122</a>, <a href= +"#pg134">134</a></li> + +<li>Odoacer, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Offamilio, iii. <a href="#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Oglio, the, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Olgiati, i. <a href="i.html#pg341">341</a></li> + +<li>Oliverotto da Fermo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg048">48</a></li> + +<li>Ombrone, the, iii. <a href="#pg108">108</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Val d', iii. <a href="#pg090">90</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Oortman, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg149">149</a></li> + +<li>Orange, i. <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Orange, Prince of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg316">316</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg254">254</a></li> + +<li>Orcagna, iii. <a href="#pg036">36</a></li> + +<li>Orcia, the, iii. <a href="#pg104">104</a>, <a href= +"#pg108">108</a></li> + +<li>Ordelaffi, Cicco and Pino, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Origen, iii. <a href="#pg211">211</a>, <a href= +"#pg219">219</a>, <a href="#pg220">220</a> Orlando, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg042">42</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg043">43</a></li> + +<li>Ornani, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg114">114</a></li> + +<li>Orpheus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg346">346</a>-364</li> + +<li>Orsini, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg091">91</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg157">157</a></li> + +<li>Orsini, Alfonsina, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Cardinal, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>:</li> + +<li>Clarice, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg227">227</a>:</li> + +<li>Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a>:</li> + +<li>Giustina, iii. <a href="#pg125">125</a>:</li> + +<li>Lodovico, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg099">99</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg100">100</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg101">101</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg104">104</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg105">105</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg108">108</a>:</li> + +<li>Paolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg048">48</a>:</li> + +<li>Paolo Giordano (_see_ Bracciano, Duke of):</li> + +<li>Troilo, i. <a href="i.html#pg327">327</a> _note_, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg093">93</a> and _note_:</li> + +<li>Virginio (_see_ Bracciano, second Duke of)</li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Orta, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Ortler, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg126">126</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Ortygia, iii. <a href="#pg321">321</a>, <a href= +"#pg326">326</a>, <a href="#pg327">327</a></li> + +<li>Orvieto, i. <a href="i.html#pg086">86</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg051">51</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg136">136</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg362">362</a>; iii. <a href="#pg005">5</a>, <a +href="#pg082">82</a>, <a href="#pg111">111</a>, <a href= +"#pg137">137</a>-154</li> + +<li>Otho I., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> + +<li>Otho III., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Otranto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>'Ottimati,' the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg242">242</a> foll., +<a href="ii.html#pg251">251</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg254">254</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg255">255</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg257">257</a></li> + +<li>Overbeck, iii. <a href="#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Ovid, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg338">338</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg344">344</a>; iii. <a href="#pg149">149</a>, <a href= +"#pg268">268</a>, <a href="#pg320">320</a>, <a href= +"#pg341">341</a> _note_ 1</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Padua, i. <a href="i.html#pg152">152</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href="i.html#pg260">260</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg099">99</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg101">101</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg104">104</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg218">218</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg221">221</a>; iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Pæstum, iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a>, <a href= +"#pg259">259</a>, <a href="#pg261">261</a>-269</li> + +<li>Paganello, Conte, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Paglia, the, iii. <a href="#pg137">137</a></li> + +<li>Painter, William, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg117">117</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg272">272</a></li> + +<li>Palermo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg010">10</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg252">252</a>, <a href="#pg290">290</a>-318</li> + +<li>Palestrina, iii. <a href="#pg037">37</a></li> + +<li>Palladio, i. <a href="i.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg256">256</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Pallavicino, Matteo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Palma, i. <a href="i.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Palmaria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Palmer, Richard, Bishop of Syracuse, iii. <a href= +"#pg306">306</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Pancrates, iii. <a href="#pg201">201</a>, <a href= +"#pg204">204</a>, <a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Panizzi, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg043">43</a></li> + +<li>Panormus, iii. <a href="#pg291">291</a></li> + +<li>Pantellaria, iii. <a href="#pg294">294</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Paoli, General, i. <a href="i.html#pg111">111</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Paris, i. <a href="i.html#pg020">20</a></li> + +<li>Parker, ----, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg266">266</a></li> + +<li>Parma, i. <a href="i.html#pg163">163</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg131">131</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg147">147</a>-162, +<a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg180">180</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg184">184</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Parma, Duke of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Parmegiano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg158">158</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg159">159</a></li> + +<li>Parmenides, iii. <a href="#pg171">171</a>, <a href= +"#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Passerini, Silvio (Cardinal of Cortona), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg251">251</a></li> + +<li>Passerini da Cortona, Cardinal, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg316">316</a></li> + +<li>Passignano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a></li> + +<li>Pasta, Dr., i. <a href="i.html#pg123">123</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg124">124</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Patmore, Coventry, iii. <a href="#pg136">136</a></li> + +<li>Patrizzi, Patrizio, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Paul III., i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg088">88</a>; iii. <a href="#pg120">120</a>, <a href= +"#pg133">133</a></li> + +<li>Pausanias, iii. <a href="#pg207">207</a></li> + +<li>Pavia, i. <a href="i.html#pg146">146</a>-151, <a href= +"i.html#pg158">158</a>, <a href="i.html#pg176">176</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href="i.html#pg189">189</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg198">198</a>, <a href="i.html#pg212">212</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg351">351</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg182">182</a></li> + +<li>Pavia, Cardinal of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a></li> + +<li>Pazzi, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg232">232</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg233">233</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg256">256</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg335">335</a></li> + +<li>Pazzi, Guglielmo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a></li> + +<li>Peiræeus, iii. <a href="#pg357">357</a></li> + +<li>Pelestrina, i. <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a></li> + +<li>Pelusium, iii. <a href="#pg189">189</a></li> + +<li>Pembroke, Countess of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>Penna, Jeronimo della, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a></li> + +<li>Pentelicus, i. <a href="i.html#pg210">210</a></li> + +<li>Pepin, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Peretti family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Peretti, Camilla, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Peretti, Francesco, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg092">92</a> foll., <a href= +"ii.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Pericles, iii. <a href="#pg343">343</a>, <a href= +"#pg350">350</a></li> + +<li>Persephone, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a></li> + +<li>Persius, iii. <a href="#pg165">165</a>, <a href= +"#pg172">172</a></li> + +<li>Perugia, i. <a href="i.html#pg188">188</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg214">214</a>, <a href="i.html#pg350">350</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg052">52</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg163">163</a>; iii. <a href="#pg053">53</a>, <a +href="#pg068">68</a>, <a href="#pg092">92</a>, <a href= +"#pg111">111</a>-136</li> + +<li>Perugino, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg239">239</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg042">42</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg057">57</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg059">59</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg159">159</a>; iii. <a href="#pg114">114</a>, <a +href="#pg116">116</a>, <a href="#pg117">117</a>-119, <a href= +"#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Perusia Augusta, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Peruzzi, i. <a href="i.html#pg152">152</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Pesaro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg059">59</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg069">69</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Pescara, Marquis of, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Petrarch, i. <a href="i.html#pg072">72</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg073">73</a>, <a href="i.html#pg074">74</a> and _note_, +<a href="i.html#pg086">86</a>, <a href="i.html#pg168">168</a>; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg022">22</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg261">261</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg280">280</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg303">303</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg332">332</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg344">344</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg365">365</a>-368; iii. <a href="#pg254">254</a>-256, +<a href="#pg308">308</a>, <a href="#pg316">316</a></li> + +<li>Petrucci, Pandolfo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>Phædrus, iii. <a href="#pg188">188</a>, <a href= +"#pg351">351</a></li> + +<li>Pheidias, i. <a href="i.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg246">246</a>; iii. <a href="#pg155">155</a>, <a href= +"#pg346">346</a>, <a href="#pg349">349</a></li> + +<li>Philippus, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Philistis, Queen, iii. <a href="#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Philostratus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg293">293</a></li> + +<li>Phlegræan plains, iii. <a href="#pg235">235</a>, <a href= +"#pg239">239</a></li> + +<li>Phoenicians, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a>, <a href= +"#pg291">291</a>, <a href="#pg335">335</a></li> + +<li>Piacenza, i. <a href="i.html#pg142">142</a>-144, <a href= +"i.html#pg195">195</a>, <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg180">180</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>'Piagnoni,' the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg253">253</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg254">254</a></li> + +<li>Piccinino, Jacopo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg234">234</a></li> + +<li>Piccinino, Niccolò, i. <a href="i.html#pg207">207</a>; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Piccolomini family, iii. <a href="#pg107">107</a></li> + +<li>Piccolomini, Æneas Sylvius, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg023">23</a> (_see also_ Pius II.)</li> + +<li>Piccolomini, Ambrogio, iii. <a href="#pg072">72</a>, <a href= +"#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>Piedmont, i. <a href="i.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Pienza, iii. <a href="#pg077">77</a>, <a href="#pg092">92</a>, +<a href="#pg102">102</a>, <a href="#pg104">104</a>-107</li> + +<li>Piero della Francesca, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg072">72</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg322">322</a></li> + +<li>Piero Delle Vigne, iii. <a href="#pg316">316</a></li> + +<li>Pietra Rubia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Pietra Santa, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Pietro di Cardona, Don, i. <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Pignatta, Captain, i. <a href="i.html#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Pindar, iii. <a href="#pg162">162</a>, <a href= +"#pg215">215</a>, <a href="#pg289">289</a>, <a href= +"#pg332">332</a></li> + +<li>Pinturicchio, Bernardo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg042">42</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg062">62</a>, <a href="#pg105">105</a>, <a href= +"#pg114">114</a></li> + +<li>Piranesi, i. <a href="i.html#pg077">77</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg181">181</a></li> + +<li>Pisa, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg203">203</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg211">211</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg214">214</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg244">244</a>; iii. <a href="#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"#pg253">253</a>, <a href="#pg304">304</a>, <a href= +"#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Pisani, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg030">30</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Pisani, Vittore, i. <a href="i.html#pg259">259</a></li> + +<li>Pisano, Andrea, iii. <a href="#pg144">144</a></li> + +<li>Pisano, Giovanni, iii. <a href="#pg112">112</a>, <a href= +"#pg144">144</a></li> + +<li>Pisano, Niccola, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg144">144</a>, <a href="#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Pisciadella, i. <a href="i.html#pg060">60</a></li> + +<li>Pistoja, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg281">281</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg283">283</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg287">287</a></li> + +<li>Pitré, Signor, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg281">281</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Pitta, Luca, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Pitz d'Aela, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Pitz Badin, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg130">130</a></li> + +<li>Pitz Languard, i. <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Pitz Palu, i. <a href="i.html#pg056">56</a></li> + +<li>Pius II., i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg018">18</a>; iii. <a href="#pg062">62</a>, <a href= +"#pg104">104</a>, <a href="#pg105">105</a></li> + +<li>Pius IV., i. <a href="i.html#pg182">182</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Pius IX., iii. <a href="#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Placidia, Galla, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Planta, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Plato, i. <a href="i.html#pg249">249</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg337">337</a>, <a href="#pg341">341</a>, <a href= +"#pg351">351</a>, <a href="#pg352">352</a>, <a href= +"#pg353">353</a></li> + +<li>Pletho, Gemisthus, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg019">19</a> and +_note_</li> + +<li>Plinies, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg177">177</a></li> + +<li>Plutarch, iii. <a href="#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Po, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg124">124</a>, <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Poggio. (_See_ Bracciolini, Poggio)</li> + +<li>Polenta, Francesca da, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Politian, iii. <a href="#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Poliziano, Angelo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg237">237</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg305">305</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg306">306</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg308">308</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg309">309</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg312">312</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg314">314</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg318">318</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg322">322</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg323">323</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg324">324</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg334">334</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg335">335</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg338">338</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg340">340</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg342">342</a>-344, <a href= +"ii.html#pg345">345</a>-364; iii. <a href="#pg101">101</a></li> + +<li>Polyphemus, i. <a href="i.html#pg091">91</a></li> + +<li>Pompeii, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a>, <a href= +"#pg244">244</a></li> + +<li>Pompey, iii. <a href="#pg189">189</a></li> + +<li>Pontano, iii. <a href="#pg242">242</a>, <a href= +"#pg243">243</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Ponte, Da, i. <a href="i.html#pg227">227</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Pontremoli, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg133">133</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg183">183</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg194">194</a></li> + +<li>Pontresina, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Pope, Alexander, i. <a href="i.html#pg006">6</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg273">273</a>; iii. <a href="#pg172">172</a></li> + +<li>Porcari, Stefano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Porcellio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a></li> + +<li>Porlezza, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Portici, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Porto d' Anzio, iii. <a href="#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Porto Fino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Porto Venere, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg140">140</a>-142</li> + +<li>Portogallo, Cardinal di, iii. <a href="#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Portus Classis, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg008">8</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg011">11</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg012">12</a></li> + +<li>Poschiavo, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg060">60</a></li> + +<li>Poseidonia, iii. <a href="#pg261">261</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Posilippo, iii. <a href="#pg231">231</a>, <a href= +"#pg270">270</a>, <a href="#pg309">309</a></li> + +<li>Poussin (cited), i. <a href="i.html#pg262">262</a></li> + +<li>Poveglia, i. <a href="i.html#pg257">257</a></li> + +<li>Pozzuoli, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a>, <a href= +"#pg241">241</a>, <a href="#pg242">242</a>, <a href= +"#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Prato, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg244">244</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg245">245</a></li> + +<li>Procida, iii. <a href="#pg238">238</a>, <a href= +"#pg239">239</a>, <a href="#pg242">242</a></li> + +<li>Promontogno, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg130">130</a></li> + +<li>Provence, i. <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a>-82</li> + +<li>Provence, Counts of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Psyttaleia, iii. <a href="#pg358">358</a></li> + +<li>Ptolemy, iii. <a href="#pg205">205</a></li> + +<li>Puccini (Medicean) party, the, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg222">222</a></li> + +<li>Pulci, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Pythagoras, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg024">24</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Quattro Castelli, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg165">165</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg171">171</a></li> + +<li>Quirini, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg331">331</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Rabelais, iii. <a href="#pg161">161</a></li> + +<li>Radicofani, iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a>, <a href= +"#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg091">91</a>, <a href="#pg103">103</a>, +<a href="#pg106">106</a>, <a href="#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Ragatz, i. <a href="i.html#pg065">65</a></li> + +<li>Raimond, Count of Provence, iii. <a href="#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>Raimondi, Carlo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg150">150</a></li> + +<li>Rainulf, Count, iii. <a href="#pg299">299</a>, <a href= +"#pg300">300</a></li> + +<li>Raleigh, Sir Walter, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg264">264</a></li> + +<li>Rametta, iii. <a href="#pg302">302</a></li> + +<li>Rapallo, iii. <a href="#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Raphael, i. <a href="i.html#pg138">138</a>-140, <a href= +"i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a href="i.html#pg152">152</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg239">239</a>, <a href="i.html#pg266">266</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg027">27</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg037">37</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg082">82</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg085">85</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg126">126</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg147">147</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg152">152</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg159">159</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href="#pg114">114</a>, <a href= +"#pg117">117</a>, <a href="#pg123">123</a>, <a href= +"#pg129">129</a>, <a href="#pg141">141</a>, <a href= +"#pg145">145</a>, <a href="#pg146">146</a>, <a href= +"#pg227">227</a>, <a href="#pg228">228</a></li> + +<li>Ravello, iii. <a href="#pg259">259</a></li> + +<li>Ravenna, i. <a href="i.html#pg160">160</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg001">1-13</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg244">244</a>; iii. <a href="#pg315">315</a></li> + +<li>Raymond, iii. <a href="#pg052">52</a>, <a href= +"#pg053">53</a></li> + +<li>Recanati, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>Redi, iii. <a href="#pg095">95</a></li> + +<li>Reggio d'Emilia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg165">165</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg167">167</a>-169, <a href= +"ii.html#pg196">196</a>; iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a></li> + +<li>Regno, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg196">196</a></li> + +<li>Rembrandt, i. <a href="i.html#pg345">345</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg156">156</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg275">275</a></li> + +<li>René of Anjou, King, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg202">202</a></li> + +<li>Reni, Guido, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg086">86</a></li> + +<li>Rhætia, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Rhætikon, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Rhine, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a></li> + +<li>Rhone, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg070">70</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg071">71</a>, <a href="i.html#pg076">76</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Riario, Girolamo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Ricci, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg213">213</a></li> + +<li>Ridolfi, Cardinal, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Ridolfi, Pietro, iii. <a href="#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Rienzi, i. <a href="i.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Rieti, valley of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a></li> + +<li>Rimini, i. <a href="i.html#pg350">350</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg353">353</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>-31, +<a href="ii.html#pg060">60</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Rimini, Francesca da, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Riviera, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg097">97</a>, <a href="i.html#pg104">104</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg143">143</a></li> + +<li>Riviera, mountains of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Robbia, Luca della, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Robustelli, Jacopo, i. <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Rocca d' Orcia, iii. <a href="#pg106">106</a>, <a href= +"#pg108">108</a></li> + +<li>Roccabruna, i. <a href="i.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg091">91</a>, <a href="i.html#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Rodari, Bernardino, i. <a href="i.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Rodari, Jacopo, i. <a href="i.html#pg175">175</a></li> + +<li>Rodari, Tommaso, i. <a href="i.html#pg175">175</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg176">176</a></li> + +<li>Roger of Hauteville, iii. <a href="#pg295">295</a> and _note_, +<a href="#pg296">296</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Roger (the younger) of Hauteville, King of Sicily, iii. <a +href="#pg252">252</a>, <a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a href= +"#pg293">293</a>, <a href="#pg305">305</a>, <a href= +"#pg307">307</a>-311, <a href="#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Rogers, Samuel, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a></li> + +<li>Roland, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg042">42</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg043">43</a></li> + +<li>Roma, Antonio da, i. <a href="i.html#pg328">328</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg329">329</a></li> + +<li>Romagna, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Romano, i. <a href="i.html#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Romano, Giulio, i. <a href="i.html#pg243">243</a></li> + +<li>Rome, i. <a href="i.html#pg002">2</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href="i.html#pg068">68</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href="i.html#pg139">139</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg032">32</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg088">88</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg089">89</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg259">259</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg022">22</a> foll., <a href="#pg085">85</a>, <a +href="#pg156">156</a>, <a href="#pg323">323</a></li> + +<li>Ronco, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg010">10</a></li> + +<li>Rossellino, Bernardo, iii. <a href="#pg062">62</a>, <a href= +"#pg105">105</a>, <a href="#pg106">106</a></li> + +<li>Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg270">270</a>; iii. <a href="#pg001">1</a>, <a href= +"#pg003">3</a>, <a href="#pg017">17</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Rousseau, i. <a href="i.html#pg005">5</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg006">6</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg027">27</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg157">157</a></li> + +<li>Rovere, Francesco della. (_See_ Sixtus IV.)</li> + +<li>Rovere, Francesco Maria (Duke of Urbino). (_See_ Urbino)</li> + +<li>Rovere, Giovanni della, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a></li> + +<li>Rovere, Livia della, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg077">77</a></li> + +<li>Rovere, Vittoria della, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Rubens, i. <a href="i.html#pg345">345</a></li> + +<li>Rubicon, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a></li> + +<li>Rucellai family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg028">28</a></li> + +<li>Rumano, i. <a href="i.html#pg204">204</a></li> + +<li>Rusca, Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg177">177</a></li> + +<li>Ruskin, Mr., i. <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg125">125</a></li> + +<li>Rydberg, Victor, iii. <a href="#pg224">224</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg227">227</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Sabine Mountains, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg032">32</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg033">33</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg039">39</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg088">88</a></li> + +<li>Sacchetti, iii. <a href="#pg012">12</a>, <a href= +"#pg013">13</a>, <a href="#pg016">16</a></li> + +<li>Saintrè, Jehan de, iii. <a href="#pg013">13</a></li> + +<li>Salamis, iii. <a href="#pg358">358</a>, <a href= +"#pg362">362</a></li> + +<li>Salerno, iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a>, <a href= +"#pg262">262</a>, <a href="#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"#pg299">299</a></li> + +<li>Salimbeni, house of, iii. <a href="#pg007">7</a></li> + +<li>Salimbeni, Niccolò de', iii. <a href="#pg003">3</a></li> + +<li>Salis, Von, family, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Salis, Von, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Salò, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Salviati, Cardinal, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Salviati, Francesco (Archbishop of Pisa), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg232">232</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg233">233</a></li> + +<li>Salviati (Governor of Cortona), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Salviati, Madonna Lucrezia, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Salviati, Madonna Maria, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Samaden, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Samminiato, iii. <a href="#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Sampiero, i. <a href="i.html#pg112">112</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg113">113</a>-115</li> + +<li>Sanazzaro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg264">264</a> and _note_ +1</li> + +<li>S. Agnese, i. <a href="i.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>S. Erasmo, i. <a href="i.html#pg256">256</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>S. Gilles, i. <a href="i.html#pg081">81</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>S. Pietro, i. <a href="i.html#pg258">258</a></li> + +<li>S. Spirito, i. <a href="i.html#pg257">257</a></li> + +<li>San Gemignano, iii. <a href="#pg003">3</a>, <a href= +"#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>San Germano, iii. <a href="#pg246">246</a>, <a href= +"#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>San Giacomo, i. <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>San Lazzaro, i. <a href="i.html#pg280">280</a></li> + +<li>San Leo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>San Marino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg060">60</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg062">62</a>-64</li> + +<li>San Martino, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>San Michele, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a></li> + +<li>San Moritz, i. <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg058">58</a></li> + +<li>San Nicoletto, i. <a href="i.html#pg283">283</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg286">286</a></li> + +<li>San Quirico, iii. <a href="#pg077">77</a>, <a href= +"#pg092">92</a>, <a href="#pg102">102</a>, <a href= +"#pg107">107</a>-110</li> + +<li>San Remo, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_, <a href= +"i.html#pg093">93</a>-98, <a href="i.html#pg105">105</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>San Rocco, i. <a href="i.html#pg265">265</a></li> + +<li>San Romolo, i. <a href="i.html#pg098">98</a>-100, <a href= +"i.html#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>San Terenzio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg143">143</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg144">144</a></li> + +<li>Sangarius, the, iii. <a href="#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Sanseverino, Roberto, i. <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Sansovino, i. <a href="i.html#pg337">337</a> _note_, ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg017">17</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Sant' Elisabetta, i. <a href="i.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Santa Agata, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg090">90</a></li> + +<li>Santa Lucia, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Santa Maura, iii. <a href="#pg363">363</a>.</li> + +<li>Santi, Giovanni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg056">56</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg059">59</a></li> + +<li>Sappho, iii. <a href="#pg363">363</a></li> + +<li>Saracens, iii. <a href="#pg252">252</a>, <a href= +"#pg263">263</a>, <a href="#pg294">294</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg302">302</a> foll., <a href="#pg308">308</a>, <a href= +"#pg321">321</a></li> + +<li>Sardinia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg189">189</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg286">286</a></li> + +<li>Saronno, i. <a href="i.html#pg137">137</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg156">156</a>, <a href="i.html#pg161">161</a>-166</li> + +<li>Sarto, Andrea del, i. <a href="i.html#pg345">345</a>; iii. +100</li> + +<li>Sarzana, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg131">131</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg134">134</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg143">143</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg183">183</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Sassella, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Sasso Rancio, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Savonarola, i. <a href="i.html#pg171">171</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg122">122</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg237">237</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg239">239</a>-242</li> + +<li>Scala, Can Grande della, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Scaletta, pass of the, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Scaligers, the, iii. <a href="#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Scalza, Ippolito, iii. <a href="#pg147">147</a></li> + +<li>Scandiano, Count of. ii. <a href="ii.html#pg067">67</a></li> + +<li>Scheffer, Ary, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Scheggia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Schiahorn, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg054">54</a></li> + +<li>Schwartzhorn, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg054">54</a></li> + +<li>Schyn, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Sciacca, iii. <a href="#pg281">281</a></li> + +<li>Scolastica, S., iii. <a href="#pg073">73</a></li> + +<li>Scott, Sir Walter, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Sebastian, S., iii. <a href="#pg184">184</a>, <a href= +"#pg185">185</a></li> + +<li>Seehorn, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg029">29</a></li> + +<li>Seelisberg, i. <a href="i.html#pg014">14</a></li> + +<li>Segeste, iii. <a href="#pg291">291</a>, <a href= +"#pg319">319</a>, <a href="#pg335">335</a></li> + +<li>Selinus, iii. <a href="#pg291">291</a>, <a href= +"#pg333">333</a>, <a href="#pg335">335</a>, <a href= +"#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Serafino, Fra, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Serbelloni, Cecilia, i. <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a></li> + +<li>Sergestus, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Serio, river, i. <a href="i.html#pg204">204</a></li> + +<li>Sermini, iii. <a href="#pg068">68</a></li> + +<li>Sesia, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Sestri, i. <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_; iii. <a +href="#pg250">250</a></li> + +<li>Sforza family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg146">146</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg155">155</a>, <a href="i.html#pg179">179</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href="i.html#pg185">185</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg197">197</a>, <a href="i.html#pg244">244</a></li> + +<li>Sforza, Alessandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg202">202</a>, ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg072">72</a>: + +<ul> +<li>Battista, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg072">72</a>:</li> + +<li>Beatrice, i. <a href="i.html#pg176">176</a>:</li> + +<li>Cardinal Ascanio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg091">91</a>:</li> + +<li>Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg198">198</a>, <a href="i.html#pg200">200</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg203">203</a>, <a href="i.html#pg208">208</a>, ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg017">17</a>17 _note_, <a href= +"ii.html#pg071">71</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg224">224</a>:</li> + +<li>Galeazzo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a>:</li> + +<li>Galeazzo Maria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg230">230</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg236">236</a>, iii. +<a href="#pg117">117</a>:</li> + +<li>Giovanni Galeazzo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg192">192</a>:</li> + +<li>Ippolita, i. <a href="i.html#pg155">155</a>:</li> + +<li>Lodovico, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a>, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg186">186</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg191">191</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg193">193</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg194">194</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg236">236</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg238">238</a>:</li> + +<li>Polissena, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg017">17</a>:</li> + +<li>Zenobia, iii. <a href="#pg124">124</a>, <a href= +"#pg125">125</a>, <a href="#pg128">128</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Shakspere, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg258">258</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg268">268</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a>-274, <a href= +"ii.html#pg277">277</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg335">335</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg036">36</a>, <a href="#pg037">37</a>, <a href= +"#pg166">166</a>, <a href="#pg280">280</a>, <a href= +"#pg282">282</a></li> + +<li>Shelley, i. <a href="i.html#pg005">5</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href="i.html#pg025">25</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg026">26</a>, <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg166">166</a>, <a href="i.html#pg232">232</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg138">138</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg140">140</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg143">143</a>-145, <a href= +"ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>; iii. <a href="#pg172">172</a>, <a +href="#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Shirley, the dramatist, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg159">159</a></li> + +<li>Sicily, i. <a href="i.html#pg103">103</a> _note_; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg066">66</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg189">189</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg276">276</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg281">281</a> +_note_, <a href="ii.html#pg282">282</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg252">252</a>, <a href="#pg279">279</a> foll., <a href= +"#pg286">286</a>, <a href="#pg288">288</a>, <a href= +"#pg290">290</a> foll., <a href="#pg319">319</a> foll.</li> + +<li>Sidney, Sir Philip, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg264">264</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg266">266</a></li> + +<li>Siena, i. <a href="i.html#pg166">166</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg187">187</a>, <a href="i.html#pg192">192</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg042">42</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg214">214</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg281">281</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg286">286</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg001">1</a>, <a href="#pg007">7</a>, <a href= +"#pg010">10</a>, <a href="#pg012">12</a>, <a href= +"#pg041">41</a>-65, <a href="#pg066">66</a> foll., <a href= +"#pg092">92</a>, <a href="#pg105">105</a> _et passim_</li> + +<li>Sigifredo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a></li> + +<li>Signorelli, i. <a href="i.html#pg239">239</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg362">362</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg035">35</a>, <a href="#pg081">81</a>, <a href= +"#pg082">82</a>, <a href="#pg085">85</a>, <a href="#pg145">145</a>, +<a href="#pg147">147</a>-152, <a href="#pg154">154</a></li> + +<li>Silarus, the, iii. <a href="#pg264">264</a></li> + +<li>Silchester, i. <a href="i.html#pg214">214</a></li> + +<li>Silvaplana, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg128">128</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Silvretta, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg031">31</a></li> + +<li>Silz Maria, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Simaetha, i. <a href="i.html#pg140">140</a></li> + +<li>Simeto, the, iii. <a href="#pg279">279</a>, <a href= +"#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Simon Magus, iii. <a href="#pg216">216</a></li> + +<li>Simonetta, La Bella, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg318">318</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg322">322</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg335">335</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Simonides, iii. <a href="#pg167">167</a></li> + +<li>Simplon, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg125">125</a></li> + +<li>Sinigaglia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg131">131</a></li> + +<li>Sirmione, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Sixtus IV., i. <a href="i.html#pg221">221</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg232">232</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg234">234</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>Sixtus V., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg090">90</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg095">95</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg098">98</a></li> + +<li>Smyrna, iii. <a href="#pg212">212</a></li> + +<li>Sobieski, Clementina, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Socrates, iii. <a href="#pg155">155</a>, <a href= +"#pg329">329</a>, <a href="#pg351">351</a>, <a href= +"#pg352">352</a>, <a href="#pg353">353</a>, <a href= +"#pg354">354</a></li> + +<li>Soderini, Alessandro, i. <a href="i.html#pg332">332</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg334">334</a>, <a href="i.html#pg335">335</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg338">338</a>, <a href="i.html#pg341">341</a></li> + +<li>Soderini, Maria, i. <a href="i.html#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Soderini, Niccolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg226">226</a></li> + +<li>Soderini, Paolo Antonio, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg192">192</a></li> + +<li>Soderini, Piero, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg243">243</a>-245</li> + +<li>Sodoma, i. <a href="i.html#pg141">141</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg152">152</a>, <a href="i.html#pg165">165</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg166">166</a>; iii. <a href="#pg063">63</a>, <a href= +"#pg081">81</a>, <a href="#pg082">82</a>-84, <a href= +"#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Sogliano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a></li> + +<li>Solari, Andrea, i. <a href="i.html#pg148">148</a></li> + +<li>Solari, Cristoforo (Il Gobbo), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a href="i.html#pg176">176</a></li> + +<li>Solferino, i. <a href="i.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Solon, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg163">163</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg172">172</a>, <a href="#pg341">341</a></li> + +<li>Solza, i. <a href="i.html#pg194">194</a></li> + +<li>Sondrio, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>Sophocles, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg160">160</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg161">161</a>; iii. <a href="#pg215">215</a>, <a href= +"#pg287">287</a>, <a href="#pg345">345</a> _notes_ 1 and 2, <a +href="#pg350">350</a></li> + +<li>Sordello, i. <a href="i.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Sorgues river, i. <a href="i.html#pg072">72</a></li> + +<li>Sorrento, iii. <a href="#pg233">233</a>, <a href= +"#pg250">250</a>, <a href="#pg276">276</a>-278</li> + +<li>Sozzo, Messer, iii. <a href="#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Sparta, iii. <a href="#pg323">323</a></li> + +<li>Spartian, iii. <a href="#pg192">192</a>, <a href= +"#pg193">193</a>, <a href="#pg197">197</a></li> + +<li>Spartivento, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a></li> + +<li>Spello, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg039">39</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>-43, <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Spenser, Edmund, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg258">258</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg264">264</a></li> + +<li>Spezzia, Bay of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg135">135</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Splügen, i. <a href="i.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Splügen, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href="i.html#pg064">64</a>; + +<ul> +<li>valley of, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Spolentino, hills of, iii. <a href="#pg092">92</a></li> + +<li>Spoleto, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg111">111</a>, <a href="#pg120">120</a></li> + +<li>Sprecher von Bernegg, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a></li> + +<li>Stabiæ, iii. <a href="#pg246">246</a></li> + +<li>Staffa, Jeronimo della, iii. <a href="#pg125">125</a></li> + +<li>Stelvio, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg009">9</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a></li> + +<li>Stephen des Rotrous, Archbishop of Palermo, iii. <a href= +"#pg306">306</a> _note_ 1</li> + +<li>Stimigliano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a></li> + +<li>Strabo, iii. <a href="#pg206">206</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg075">75</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi, Filippo, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg321">321</a>, <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg344">344</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi (Governor of Cortona), ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi, Palla degli, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg222">222</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi, Pietro, i. <a href="i.html#pg332">332</a></li> + +<li>Strozzi, Ruberto, i. <a href="i.html#pg331">331</a></li> + +<li>Suardi, Bartolommeo, i. <a href="i.html#pg154">154</a></li> + +<li>Subasio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a></li> + +<li>Suetonius, i. <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>-136; iii. <a +href="#pg164">164</a>, <a href="#pg196">196</a>, <a href= +"#pg199">199</a>, <a href="#pg272">272</a>, <a href= +"#pg274">274</a></li> + +<li>Sufenas, iii. <a href="#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Superga, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg133">133</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg134">134</a></li> + +<li>Surrey, Earl of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>-263, <a +href="ii.html#pg271">271</a></li> + +<li>Susa, vale of, i. <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a></li> + +<li>Süss, i. <a href="i.html#pg055">55</a></li> + +<li>Swinburne, Mr., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg273">273</a></li> + +<li>Switzerland, i. <a href="i.html#pg001">1</a>-67, <a href= +"i.html#pg105">105</a>, <a href="i.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Sybaris, ancient Hellenic city of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg002">2</a> _note_; iii. <a href="#pg261">261</a></li> + +<li>Syracuse, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_; iii. <a +href="#pg262">262</a>, <a href="#pg279">279</a>, <a href= +"#pg288">288</a>, <a href="#pg290">290</a>, <a href= +"#pg291">291</a>, <a href="#pg294">294</a> _note_, <a href= +"#pg304">304</a>, <a href="#pg320">320</a>-331</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Tacitus, iii. <a href="#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Tadema, Alma, i. <a href="i.html#pg210">210</a></li> + +<li>Tanagra, iii. <a href="#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Tancred de Hauteville, iii. <a href="#pg294">294</a>, <a href= +"#pg295">295</a></li> + +<li>Taormina, iii. <a href="#pg287">287</a>, <a href= +"#pg288">288</a>, <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Tarentum, iii. <a href="#pg263">263</a></li> + +<li>Tarentum, Prince of, i. <a href="i.html#pg079">79</a></li> + +<li>Tarlati, Guido, iii. <a href="#pg074">74</a></li> + +<li>Taro, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg132">132</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg183">183</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>Tarsus, iii. <a href="#pg212">212</a></li> + +<li>Tasso, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg264">264</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg265">265</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg269">269</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg274">274</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg280">280</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg332">332</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg337">337</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a></li> + +<li>Tavignano, the, valley of, i. <a href= +"i.html#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Tedaldo, Count of Reggio and Modena, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg169">169</a></li> + +<li>Tennyson, Lord, i. <a href="i.html#pg004">4</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg023">23</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg270">270</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg296">296</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Terlan, i. <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>Terni, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Terracina, i. <a href="i.html#pg318">318</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>Tertullian, iii. <a href="#pg219">219</a></li> + +<li>Theocritus, i. <a href="i.html#pg084">84</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg094">94</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg304">304</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg330">330</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg335">335</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg337">337</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg355">355</a>; iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Theodoric the Ostrogoth, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg011">11</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg013">13</a></li> + +<li>Theognis, iii. <a href="#pg172">172</a></li> + +<li>Thomas à Kempis (quoted), i. <a href= +"i.html#pg098">98</a>, <a href="i.html#pg100">100</a></li> + +<li>Thomas of Sarzana, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg028">28</a></li> + +<li>Thrasymene, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg090">90</a>, <a href="#pg091">91</a>, <a href= +"#pg101">101</a>, <a href="#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Thucydides, iii. <a href="#pg321">321</a>-324, <a href= +"#pg327">327</a>, <a href="#pg328">328</a>, <a href= +"#pg331">331</a></li> + +<li>Thuillier, Prefect, i. <a href="i.html#pg109">109</a></li> + +<li>Tiber, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg033">33</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg046">46</a>; iii. <a href="#pg112">112</a></li> + +<li>Tiberio d'Assisi, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a></li> + +<li>Tiberius, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg271">271</a>-274</li> + +<li>Ticino, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg124">124</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg211">211</a></li> + +<li>Tieck, R. iii. <a href= +"#pg224">224</a></li> + +<li>Timoleon, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a>, <a href= +"#pg290">290</a>, <a href="#pg304">304</a>, <a href= +"#pg319">319</a>, <a href="#pg337">337</a></li> + +<li>Tintoretto, i. <a href="i.html#pg138">138</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg236">236</a>, <a href="i.html#pg262">262</a>-267, <a +href="i.html#pg269">269</a>, <a href="i.html#pg281">281</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg147">147</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg156">156</a>; iii. <a href="#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Tinzenhorn, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>Tirano, i. <a href="i.html#pg049">49</a>-53, <a href= +"i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href="i.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Titian, i. <a href="i.html#pg337">337</a> _note_; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg076">76</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg130">130</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg153">153</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg154">154</a>; iii. <a href="#pg180">180</a>, +<a href="#pg247">247</a></li> + +<li>Titus, iii. <a href="#pg190">190</a></li> + +<li>Tivoli, i. <a href="i.html#pg087">87</a> _note_; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg032">32</a>; iii. <a href="#pg189">189</a>, <a href= +"#pg198">198</a>, <a href="#pg201">201</a>, <a href= +"#pg210">210</a></li> + +<li>Todi, iii. <a href="#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Tofana, i. <a href="i.html#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Tolomei family, iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Tolomei, Cristoforo, iii. <a href="#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Tolomei, Fulvia, iii. <a href="#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Tolomei, Giovanni, iii. <a href="#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"#pg070">70</a> (_see also_ Bernardo)</li> + +<li>Tolomei, Nino, iii. <a href="#pg008">8</a>, <a href= +"#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Tommaseo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Tommaso di Nello, iii. <a href="#pg011">11</a></li> + +<li>Torcello, i. <a href="i.html#pg171">171</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg172">172</a>, <a href="i.html#pg282">282</a>; ii. <a +href="ii.html#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Torre dell' Annunziata, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Torre del Greco, iii. <a href="#pg232">232</a></li> + +<li>Torrensi family, the, iii. <a href="#pg119">119</a></li> + +<li>Toscanella, iii. <a href="#pg109">109</a></li> + +<li>Toschi, Paolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg148">148</a>-150</li> + +<li>Totila, iii. <a href="#pg081">81</a></li> + +<li>Tourneur, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg267">267</a></li> + +<li>Trajan, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg014">14</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Trani, iii. <a href="#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Trapani, iii. <a href="#pg319">319</a></li> + +<li>Trasimeno, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg050">50</a></li> + +<li>Trastevere, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg096">96</a></li> + +<li>Trebanio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg019">19</a></li> + +<li>Trelawny, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Tremazzi, Ambrogio, i. <a href="i.html#pg327">327</a> +_note_</li> + +<li>Trento, i. <a href="i.html#pg340">340</a></li> + +<li>Trepievi, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Trescorio, i. <a href="i.html#pg204">204</a></li> + +<li>Tresenda, i. <a href="i.html#pg063">63</a></li> + +<li>Trevi, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg039">39</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg046">46</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg097">97</a>; iii. <a href="#pg111">111</a></li> + +<li>Treviglio, i. <a href="i.html#pg209">209</a></li> + +<li>Treviso, iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a></li> + +<li>Trezzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg194">194</a></li> + +<li>Trinacria, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a></li> + +<li>Trinci family, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg038">38</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg041">41</a></li> + +<li>Trinci, Corrado, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg040">40</a></li> + +<li>Troina, iii. <a href="#pg302">302</a>, <a href= +"#pg303">303</a></li> + +<li>Tuldo, Nicola, iii. <a href="#pg053">53</a>-55</li> + +<li>Tunis, iii. <a href="#pg275">275</a></li> + +<li>Turin, i. <a href="i.html#pg134">134</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg138">138</a>, <a href="i.html#pg348">348</a></li> + +<li>Turner, J.M.W., iii. <a href="#pg138">138</a>, <a href= +"#pg364">364</a></li> + +<li>Tuscany, i. <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg169">169</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg234">234</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg244">244</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg276">276</a> foll.; iii. <a href= +"#pg041">41</a> foll., <a href="#pg068">68</a>, <a href= +"#pg104">104</a></li> + +<li>Tuscany, Grand Duke of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg099">99</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg170">170</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg256">256</a></li> + +<li>Tyrol, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg089">89</a></li> + +<li>Tyrrhenian sea, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg183">183</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Ubaldo, S., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg054">54</a></li> + +<li>Uberti, Fazio degli, iii. <a href="#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"#pg016">16</a></li> + +<li>Udine, i. <a href="i.html#pg351">351</a></li> + +<li>Ugolini, Messer Baccio, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg362">362</a></li> + +<li>Uguccione della Faggiuola, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg136">136</a>; iii. <a href="#pg004">4</a></li> + +<li>Ulysses, iii. <a href="#pg288">288</a>, <a href= +"#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Umbria, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg032">32</a>-59; iii. <a href="#pg068">68</a>, <a href= +"#pg119">119</a> _note_ 1</li> + +<li>Urban II., iii. <a href="#pg304">304</a></li> + +<li>Urban IV., ii. <a href="ii.html#pg177">177</a>; iii. <a href= +"#pg141">141</a>, <a href="#pg142">142</a></li> + +<li>Urban V., i. <a href="i.html#pg070">70</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, i. <a href="i.html#pg203">203</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg045">45</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg058">58</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg066">66</a>-69, <a href="ii.html#pg074">74</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg078">78</a>-87, <a href= +"ii.html#pg185">185</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Counts of, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg015">15</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Federigo, Duke of, i. <a href="i.html#pg203">203</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg207">207</a>, <a href="i.html#pg316">316</a>, +<a href="i.html#pg317">317</a>, <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>; +ii. <a href="ii.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg066">66</a>-68, <a href="ii.html#pg070">70</a>-73, +<a href="ii.html#pg078">78</a>-81, <a href= +"ii.html#pg231">231</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Prince Federigo-Ubaldo of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg077">77</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg078">78</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Francesco Maria della Rovere, Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a>-76, <a href="ii.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Francesco Maria II., Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg076">76</a>-78, <a href="ii.html#pg086">86</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Guidobaldo, Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg073">73</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg074">74</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg079">79</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg080">80</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg084">84</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Guidobaldo II., Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg076">76</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>Urbino, Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke of, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg247">247</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Valdarno, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg218">218</a></li> + +<li>Valdelsa, iii. <a href="#pg069">69</a></li> + +<li>Valentinian, iii. <a href="#pg191">191</a></li> + +<li>Valentino, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg064">64</a></li> + +<li>Valperga, Ardizzino, i. <a href="i.html#pg158">158</a></li> + +<li>Valsassina, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg184">184</a></li> + +<li>Valtelline, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg035">35</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg048">48</a>-51, <a href="i.html#pg053">53</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg058">58</a>, <a href="i.html#pg061">61</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg064">64</a>, <a href="i.html#pg180">180</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg184">184</a>, <a href="i.html#pg186">186</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg188">188</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg168">168</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg094">94</a></li> + +<li>Valturio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg018">18</a></li> + +<li>Varallo, i. <a href="i.html#pg019">19</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg136">136</a>, <a href="i.html#pg138">138</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Varani, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Varano, Giulia, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Varano, Madonna Maria, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>Varano, Venanzio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg085">85</a></li> + +<li>Varchi, i. <a href="i.html#pg320">320</a>-322, <a href= +"i.html#pg325">325</a>, <a href="i.html#pg326">326</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg045">45</a> _note_</li> + +<li>Varenna, i. <a href="i.html#pg173">173</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg186">186</a></li> + +<li>Varese, i. <a href="i.html#pg144">144</a>; + +<ul> +<li>Lake of, i. <a href="i.html#pg124">124</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg173">173</a>, <a href="i.html#pg174">174</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li>Vasari, Giorgio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg026">26</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg028">28</a>; iii. <a href="#pg083">83</a>, <a href= +"#pg084">84</a>, <a href="#pg145">145</a></li> + +<li>Vasco de Gama, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg237">237</a></li> + +<li>Vasto, Marquis del, i. <a href="i.html#pg187">187</a></li> + +<li>Vaucluse, i. <a href="i.html#pg072">72</a>-74</li> + +<li>Velino, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg034">34</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg046">46</a></li> + +<li>Venice, i. <a href="i.html#pg044">44</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg167">167</a>, <a href="i.html#pg171">171</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg200">200</a>, <a href="i.html#pg201">201</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg206">206</a>, <a href="i.html#pg254">254</a>-315; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg001">1</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg002">2</a> +and _note_, <a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg042">42</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg102">102</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg253">253</a>, <a href="#pg309">309</a>, <a href= +"#pg317">317</a> _note_, _et passim_</li> + +<li>Ventimiglia, i. <a href="i.html#pg102">102</a></li> + +<li>Vercelli, i. <a href="i.html#pg136">136</a>-142; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg173">173</a>; iii. <a href="#pg082">82</a></li> + +<li>Vergerio, Pier Paolo, i. <a href="i.html#pg331">331</a></li> + +<li>Verne, M. Jules, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg139">139</a></li> + +<li>Vernet, Horace, i. <a href="i.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Verocchio, i. <a href="i.html#pg193">193</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg207">207</a></li> + +<li>Verona, i. <a href="i.html#pg212">212</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg168">168</a>; iii. <a href="#pg006">6</a>, <a href= +"#pg318">318</a></li> + +<li>Verucchio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Vespasian, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Vespasiano, Florentine bookseller, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg080">80</a></li> + +<li>Vesuvius, iii. <a href="#pg230">230</a>, <a href= +"#pg232">232</a>, <a href="#pg234">234</a>, <a href= +"#pg235">235</a>, <a href="#pg239">239</a>, <a href= +"#pg242">242</a>, <a href="#pg245">245</a>, <a href= +"#pg276">276</a></li> + +<li>Vettori, Paolo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg245">245</a></li> + +<li>Via Mala, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg057">57</a></li> + +<li>Viareggio, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg145">145</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg146">146</a></li> + +<li>Vicenza, i. <a href="i.html#pg075">75</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg328">328</a>-330</li> + +<li>Vico, i. <a href="i.html#pg109">109</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg112">112</a>, <a href="i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Vico Soprano, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg129">129</a></li> + +<li>Victor, Aurelius, iii. <a href="#pg193">193</a>, <a href= +"#pg195">195</a></li> + +<li>Vietri, iii. <a href="#pg250">250</a></li> + +<li>Vignole, i. <a href="i.html#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Villa, i. <a href="i.html#pg048">48</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg062">62</a></li> + +<li>Villafranca, i. <a href="i.html#pg083">83</a></li> + +<li>Villani, Giovanni, iii. <a href="#pg008">8</a></li> + +<li>Villani, Matteo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg208">208</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg008">8</a>, <a href="#pg016">16</a></li> + +<li>Villeneuve, i. <a href="i.html#pg070">70</a></li> + +<li>Villon, iii. <a href="#pg001">1</a></li> + +<li>Vinci, Leonardo da, i. <a href="i.html#pg139">139</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg148">148</a>, <a href="i.html#pg154">154</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg349">349</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg019">19</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg021">21</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg027">27</a>, +<a href="ii.html#pg050">50</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg152">152</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg156">156</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg082">82</a>, <a href="#pg228">228</a>, <a href= +"#pg238">238</a></li> + +<li>Vinta, M. Francesco, i. <a href="i.html#pg330">330</a></li> + +<li>Vire, Val de, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg291">291</a></li> + +<li>Virgil, i. <a href="i.html#pg246">246</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg006">6</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg063">63</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg285">285</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg304">304</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg338">338</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg343">343</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg075">75</a>, <a href="#pg144">144</a>, <a href= +"#pg155">155</a>, <a href="#pg162">162</a>, <a href= +"#pg172">172</a>, <a href="#pg180">180</a>, <a href= +"#pg181">181</a>, <a href="#pg186">186</a>, <a href= +"#pg215">215</a>, <a href="#pg268">268</a>, <a href= +"#pg309">309</a>, <a href="#pg320">320</a></li> + +<li>Visconti family, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg146">146</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg016">16</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg178">178</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg185">185</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg224">224</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg278">278</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg119">119</a>, <a href="#pg253">253</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Astore, i, <a href="i.html#pg181">181</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg182">182</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Bianca Maria, i. <a href="i.html#pg199">199</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Ermes, i. <a href="i.html#pg157">157</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Filippo Maria, i. <a href="i.html#pg195">195</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg197">197</a>-199; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg215">215</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg224">224</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg235">235</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Gian Galeazzo, i. <a href="i.html#pg149">149</a>, <a +href="i.html#pg152">152</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg213">213</a></li> + +<li>Visconti, Gian Maria, ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg236">236</a></li> + +<li>Vitelli, the, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg041">41</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg071">71</a></li> + +<li>Vitelli, Alessandro, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg250">250</a></li> + +<li>Vitelli, Giulia, iii. <a href="#pg132">132</a></li> + +<li>Vitelli, Vitellozzo, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg047">47</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg048">48</a></li> + +<li>Vitellius, iii. <a href="#pg164">164</a></li> + +<li>Vittoli, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg114">114</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg115">115</a></li> + +<li>Vivarini, i. <a href="i.html#pg269">269</a></li> + +<li>Voltaire, iii. <a href="#pg161">161</a></li> + +<li>Volterra, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg163">163</a>, <a href= +"ii.html#pg214">214</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg231">231</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg066">66</a>, <a href="#pg069">69</a>, <a href= +"#pg079">79</a>, <a href="#pg092">92</a>, <a href= +"#pg103">103</a></li> + +<li>Volterra, Bebo da, i. <a href="i.html#pg328">328</a>-330, <a +href="i.html#pg333">333</a>-341</li> + +<li>Volterrano, Andrea, i. <a href="i.html#pg336">336</a></li> + +<li>Volturno, iii. <a href="#pg239">239</a></li> + +<li>Volumnii, the, iii. <a href="#pg112">112</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Walker, Frederick, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg129">129</a>; iii. +<a href="#pg076">76</a></li> + +<li>Walter of Brienne. (_See_ Athens, Duke of)</li> + +<li>Walter of the Mill, Archbishop of Palermo, iii. <a href= +"#pg306">306</a> _note_, <a href="#pg308">308</a></li> + +<li>Webster, the dramatist, i. <a href="i.html#pg220">220</a>; ii. +<a href="ii.html#pg103">103</a>-126, <a href= +"ii.html#pg267">267</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg271">271</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg277">277</a></li> + +<li>Weisshorn, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg054">54</a></li> + +<li>Whitman, Walt, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg024">24</a>; iii. <a +href="#pg172">172</a></li> + +<li>Wien, i. <a href="i.html#pg045">45</a></li> + +<li>Wiesen, i. <a href="i.html#pg065">65</a>; ii. <a href= +"ii.html#pg127">127</a></li> + +<li>William of Apulia, iii. <a href="#pg298">298</a>, <a href= +"#pg299">299</a>, <a href="#pg305">305</a></li> + +<li>William the Bad and William the Good of Sicily, iii. <a href= +"#pg305">305</a>, <a href="#pg306">306</a>, <a href= +"#pg308">308</a>, <a href="#pg311">311</a></li> + +<li>Winckelman, iii. <a href="#pg188">188</a></li> + +<li>Wolfgang, i. <a href="i.html#pg030">30</a></li> + +<li>Wolfswalk, the, i. <a href="i.html#pg031">31</a></li> + +<li>Wordsworth, i. <a href="i.html#pg005">5</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg006">6</a>, <a href="i.html#pg010">10</a>, <a href= +"i.html#pg011">11</a>; ii. <a href="ii.html#pg262">262</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg263">263</a>, <a href="ii.html#pg273">273</a>; +iii. <a href="#pg172">172</a>, <a href="#pg173">173</a></li> + +<li>Wyatt, Sir Thomas, ii. <a href="ii.html#pg261">261</a>, <a +href="ii.html#pg262">262</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Xenophanes, iii. <a href="#pg171">171</a>, <a href= +"#pg173">173</a>, <a href="#pg353">353</a></li> + +<li>Xiphilinus, iii. <a href="#pg192">192</a></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Zafferana, iii. <a href="#pg282">282</a>, <a href= +"#pg283">283</a></li> + +<li>Zante, iii. <a href="#pg363">363</a></li> + +<li>Zeno, Carlo, i. <a href="i.html#pg260">260</a></li> + +<li>Zeus Olympius, iii. <a href="#pg290">290</a></li> + +<li>Zizers, i. <a href="i.html#pg065">65</a></li> +</ul> + + +</body> +</html> + |