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THE

LANDSCAPE ANNUAL

1833.

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KHNIlf S S « C

TOURIST IN ITALY,

THOMAS ROSCOE.

ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS

J. D. HARDING.

Dite senza, tirnor, gli orrendi stridi
Delia terra che invan geme abbattuta,
Spolpata affatto da' Tiranni iufidi.
Dite la vita infame e dissoliita !
Dite 1' usure e tirannie voraci
Che fa sopra di noi la tuiba immensa
De' vivi Faraoni e degli Arsaci.
Dite, che sol da' Principi si pensa
A bandir pesche e caccie : onde gli avail
Sulla tame comune alzan la mensa. Salvator Rosa.

LONDON :
JENNINGS AND CHAPLIN, 62, CHEAPSIDE.

1833.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. HADDON, CA8TLE STREET, V1NSBURY.

RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MONTAGUE,
THIS VOLUME op
THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL
IS,
KY PERMISSION,
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.

CONTENTS.

PilgC

Vietri .......

1

La Cava, Convent of La Santa Trinita

16

Vico : Coast of Naples ....

37

Mola da Gaeta .....

62

The Garigliano ....

93

Castel Gandolfo .....

104

Villa Madama .....

117

Vico Varo .....

142

Convent of Santo Cosimato .

145

Narni ... . .

148

Terni ......

150

Convent of Vallombrosa ....

153

Fiesole .....

162

Val di Magra .....

192

La Spezzia .....

196

Genoa ......

200

Savona ......

239

Trevi ....

247

Albenga ... . •

250

Alassio ......

252

Ventimiglia .....

254

Nice ......

257

Entrance to Ivrea . . ¦ >

. 261

Verrex ......

263

Fort de Bard .....

265

Entrance to Aosta ....

269

LIST OF PLATES.

ENGRAVED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF MR. JENNINGS.

Frontispiece — Entrance to Aosta.
Vignette — Verrex.
1. VIETRI.
\/ 2. LA CAVA, CONVENT OP LA SANTA TRINITA.
J 3. VICO : COAST OF NAPLES.
J 4. MOLA DA GAETA.
J 5. THE GARIGLIANO.
J 6. CASTEL GANDOLFO.
J 7. VILLA MADAMA.
Jt 8. VICO VARO.
./ 9. CONVENT OF SANTO COSIMATO.
10. NARNI.
^ 11. TERNI.
„ 12. CONVENT OF VALLOMBROSA.
13. FIESOLE.
J 14. VAL DI MAGRA.
j 15. LA SPEZZIA.
J 16. GENOA.
„ 17. SAVONA.
.. 18. TREVI.
I 19. ALBENGA.
y 20. AiASSIO.
t 21. VENTIMIGLIA.
I 22. NICE.
f 23. ENTRANCE TO IVREA.
. 24. FORT DE BARD.

VIETRI.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods.
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar. Byron.
II nome del bel fior, eh' io sempre invoco
E mane e sera, e tutto mi ristrinse,
L'animo ad avisar lo maggior foco. Dante.
The vivid, deep-glowing pictures of the sunny south
are once more before us ; the fresh, warm, airs of Italy
seem for the last time to breathe around us ; and the
tourist, in our fourth volume, will gaze upon her land
scapes, of which — from us at least — he will see no more.
Still, her deep rich skies, reflecting their varied and
most brilliant hues on hills, and lakes, and shores,
immortal amidst the ruins of empires, over which
nature is fast drawing a thicker and darker veil, — her
strange destiny, — fallen monuments like the fortunes of
her children, — and her old ancestral fame, would bid
us linger in the birth-place of all that is most lovely,
most grand, most absorbing to the eye and to the mind.
For where is the country of which the history presents
so terrible a lesson to humanity, so marked a beacon
to future times, — so well worthy the deep meditation
of the statesman, the philosopher, the student of every
age and every class ? What wonderful revolutions have
levelled her successive dynasties with the dust; leaving
not a trace of the stern heroic republic — the mightier
empire of the Roman — the competition of bold, free,

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

and polished states that rose from the night of bar
barism which had so long shrouded the vanquished
mistress of the world ! Could the old republican have
revisited, " by glimpses of the moon," the scene of
Rome's early triumphs, vainly would he have tried to
recognise his descendant in the corrupt, voluptuous
imperialists who fell before the Goth ; as vainly would
they have traced their countrymen in the free spirit of
Italy's young republics ; and least of all would the
latter be enabled to trace one feature of their heroic
age in the broken, enfeebled character of the modern
Italian, withering under the malignant influence of an
outworn system of government and religion, supported
by the power of foreign bayonets.
It is a system, however, which happily cannot last ;
events beyond the control of princes show that it is
tottering to its fall ; while other and nobler prospects
open before the country of a Brutus, a Cicero, a Dante,
a Cosmo, and a Lorenzo de' Medici — of thousands of
martyred patriots ; prospects such as must eventually
rescue her from the grasp of foreign aggression, and
tyranny and superstition at home. Yet, with her
broken chains, how much of her romantic charms, and
of her monumental beauty and grandeur in the lost
fortunes both of her ancient and modern state, would
vanish from the surface of her soil, when the genius of
freedom and commerce shall once more repeople her
solitudes, rebuild her manufactories, replenish her
banks, and send forth her well-freighted vessels to
every quarter of the globe ! The shadows of the past,
the magnificence of ruin, the desert air of her plains,

VI ETUI. 3
her groves, her hills, and every wreck-strewed shore,
will then gradually disappear. Italy will cease to be a
land of wonder and enchantment in her mere external
aspect ; but beauty and glory of a different kind may
then fall to her dower. No more on her rich southern
plains and shores will only the lowly peasant's roof
receive the traveller, the solitary wild flowers burst on
his quiet path, the silence of La Cava's valleys be
broken only by the vesper-song and the lone con
vent's bell. The vintage songs will come more fre
quently on the ear ; wild picturesque retreats, studded
with their white hamlets, glow richer with the dark
budding vine ; and the deep blue waters of the lakes,
fed by the foaming torrents of the far hills, no longer
resting in their unsought solitudes, be enlivened with
the white sails and the voices of rural industry or of
mirth. Then her fruitful and delicious campagnas will
no more present the sight of paupers, and wretched
children, prostrated along the road, and kissing the
dust for the smallest mark of charity ; a generous
people will no longer groan under their " little tyrants
of the field ;" the lovers of freedom will cease to bleed
upon the scaffold ; and moral power, independence,
and prosperity, at length raise Italy into something-
nobler than a relic of antiquity, the romantic ruin of
departed greatness, and the tomb of her once boasted
liberties. Such at least, with all our veneration for
classic antiquities, will be our earnest prayer. But we
have done ! The genius of landscape, love and fiction,
shrink from the voice of war and tumult, and summon
us to more attractive and congenial themes.
I! 9

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

The bright-gemmed region of Naples, — her wild,
picturesque shores, bays, lakes, and caverned isles,
" teeming alike with fable and with truth," the retreat
of the syrens, and the adoration of the sons of paint
ing and of song, glowing in all the brilliancy of Italian
sunset, burst with confused magnificence upon the
view. Here the Phlegreean fields, Virgil and his
Sibyls, Cumae, the delicious Baise, the gloomy Cimi-
meriae, Portici, Vesuvius, famed Pompeii, the walls
of Psestum, the plains of Sorrento, old Salerno, its
castle and picturesque hermitages ; and, lastly, the
wild, broken shore, and summits of Vietri, crowned
with its little white hamlet that seems hung in air ;
its abrupt declivities, varied with dark foliage, through
which you discern houses and villas, the darker con
vents frowning in the distance, and the blue shining
waters of the bay that break and murmur at the foot
of yon bold promontory. Seen from the cliff's, the
prospect is most imposing and magnificent ; and the
tourist feels, as on first beholding the scenery at
Psestum, the power of deepest solitude, and a strange
religious thrill, inspired, as it were, by the awful and
the vast. " Yet here methinks
Truth wants no ornament, in her own shape
Filling the mind by turns with awe and love,
By turns inclining to wild ecstacy,
And soberest meditation.'' Italy.
But a truce to description ; the neighbourhood of
Vietri is associated with more affecting details. In
one of those secluded and romantic spots, embosomed
amid the grand amphitheatre of hill, and dale, and

rocky coast, which once made the southern shores of
Italy, with the abrupt picturesque head-lands, and the
splendid sea-views they command, so beloved by her
young poets and painters, is situated a half-ruined
monastery, the more venerable from its contrast with
the aspect of surrounding little hamlets and modern
villas. To the impressive character of its natural
scenery a more stirring interest is given by some
events of no distant date, produced by the most fearful
and absorbing of passions, — not the less strong and
vivid for their too frequent display — those of thwarted
love and revenge. In that monastery sought a last
refuge, as she herself has left it on record, the suffering
object of a tale of deep treachery and wrong ; one
which conveys more painful and thrilling sympathy
from the circumstance of its being founded wholly in
truth. Near this religious edifice was the residence of an
officer of distinction, who had retired from the French
army soon after its occupation of Naples, under the
unfortunate Joachim Murat, and apparently with the
design of making Italy his future country. At that
period he was not more than forty-five years of age ;
but he had more powerful reasons, it would appear,
than mere taste for thus early courting retirement. An
occasional gloom — a presentiment, as if of some evil,
seemed to hang over him ; the clear unquailing eye, the
voice, the frank and radiant spirit of the true soldier,
were not the companions of Colville's retreat. Yet
he enjoyed all the advantages which high reputation,
fortune, or beauty, could confer; his wife, a very

6 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
fascinating and accomplished woman, to whom he was
devotedly attached, beloved by all those around her
for her gentle unobtrusive virtues, was more than fifteen
years younger than her consort.
Of a high and wealthy family, connected with the
ancient noblesse of France, whose domains lay round
the delightful village of Fontenay, so famed for its fine
roses, in the romantic environs of Seaux, it was there
that, ere her sixteenth year, the young affections of the
lovely Emilie de Roches were sought and won by one
fully deserving of them ; but that one was not the
haughty Colville, her present lord. Eugene de Roches,
the head of a distant but not prosperous branch of
the same family, was the companion of Emilie's earliest
years ; and this long growing youthful intimacy assumed
only a more deep and tender interest on Eugene's
return, after completing his military studies in the
Polytechnic school.
The brief period that intervened before he was sum
moned to join the regiment in which he was entered
was like a dream of Paradise, too blissful to continue,
yet long enough to show the approaching storm, des
tined to burst on their heads, and turn that paradise of
love into a wilderness of human woe.
Eugene's chief fortune was his sword, and, confident
of the undivided heart of Emilie, it would swiftly have
opened itself an honourable path towards his attaining
her hand. But her father's wishes were opposed to
theirs, and, while refusing to sanction their mutual
attachment till Eugene should have risen into distinc
tion, a formidable and artful rival appeared on the

scene. High connexions, wealth, glory, and the favour
of the imperial captain of his age, were the claims
advanced by Colonel Colville ; and these were irresist
ible in the eyes of Emilie's father. A coolness of
demeanour towards Eugene, and vainly repeated solici
tations, at length assuming an air of authority and
command, to change the current of his daughter's
affections, seemed already to declare the colour of their
future lot.
Eugene, however, had a tower of strength in the
heart of his Emilie, which neither the attacks and
stratagems of his rival, nor the cruelty of paternal
power, could have taught to surrender, without some
strange accident to promote their schemes. This, alas !
was not wanting. The regiment into which Eugene
had just before entered was the one commanded by
Colonel Colville ; and the feelings he now experienced
are not to be described. As a successful lover, he too
well knew that he was hated by his rival ; he stood
directly in the proud Count's path ; he returned hate
for hate, and scorn for scorn ; they saw each other's
position, and each resolved to give no undue advan
tage to him whom circumstances only had made his
enemy. The generous soul of Eugene would have
met his rival manfully and honourably ; but, finding
the advantage taken of his inferior station, he saw
the designs he had in view with burning indignation.
With strong natural penetration he determined to
foil his adversary instead of falling into his snares ;
and while he returned the stern indignant glance, and
bitter sneer, with two-fold force before the world, as

H THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
a soldier he fulfilled every duty, and suffered not the
smallest occasion for censure, from the lips of his
superior officer, to escape him. Admirably as he
sought, and long succeeded in maintaining, his clear
sighted and magnanimous purpose, disregarding a
thousand petty insults, yet the wisdom of the children
of this world, too often " greater than that of the chil
dren of light," was at length an overmatch for him,
and he fell into the ambush laid by his wilier enemy.
The time, the means, and the result, were all pre
meditated, and selected as if to carry a double sting
to the soul of the unfortunate and almost predestined
Eugene. Even the object of all the young soldier's
dearest hopes on earth was employed by his deep
plotting foe to become the cause of his utter discom
fiture and dishonour.
It was on the evening previous to the marching of
the regiment to join the army in Italy; Colville had
already taken his leave of the Marquess and his daugh
ter to attend the review of some new troops ; when,
despatching Eugene to bring up a party of con
scripts from the village of Seaux, he put into his hands
a letter, addressed to Emilie, with an order for him to
deliver it at the castle on his return, and to bear him the
answer. The cheek of the young soldier flushed with
passionate indignation on receiving such a mandate,
unconnected, as it was, with his military duties ; but,
suddenly, the idea of thus once more beholding that
loved object of all his thoughts from the time he could
remember any thing, surmounted every other feeling ;
and, despising the bitter smile with which it was given,

VIETRI. 9
he hastened to fulfil a mission at once so revolting, yet
so eagerly desired. It was, perhaps, the last time he
might ever behold the face of her with whose hap
piness he felt that his own fate and fortunes were in
separably intertwined.
The radiant joy that beamed in the dark eyes of
Emilie, the rich suffusion of her neck and brow, the
quick yet faltering voice, convinced Eugene that he
was still unforgotten, and he met her with a smile of
triumph and delight. Yet, scrupulous in honour, he
instantly gave her his rival's letter, when in a moment
these brilliant proofs of love's power faded from her
lovely face and form — a cloud came over her brow —
pale and trembling she shrunk from its touch. The
exultation of Eugene, even in that bitter hour of part
ing, was some alleviation of the fearful fate he had
soon to encounter and endure. Pledging again and
again their unalterable truth, and reminding each other
of a thousand young affecting instances of unbroken
attachment, and gentleness, and love — incidents that
knit their souls in a firmer and holier union than after-
time could ever be thought to sunder in twain — -with
looks and words of farewell, too sadly lingering and
repeated, the young, the beautiful, and the too-con
fiding tore themselves from a last embrace ; to meet —
but how to meet again !
On Eugene's departure, his ungenerous rival hastened
his preparations for the review and marching of his
troops. The bitter and insulting tone in which he
addressed Eugene, on rejoining the regiment, drew
the attention of the whole troop. Stung also with

10 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
jealousy at receiving no answer to his letter, nor suf
fering him to explain, he declared, in a still louder
voice, that the soldier who dared so long to linger on
his mission, in order to take a sentimental farewell of
some love-sick girl, was ill prepared to reap laurels in
the field of death. Fired beyond the power of endur
ance at the contemptuous laugh re-echoed by a thou
sand voices about him, Eugene felt his sword spring
from its scabbard, and, rushing on his heartless insult
ing enemy, he struck him, and, would have laid him
prostrate at his feet, but for the sudden interference of
a throng of officers, behind whom their commander
found a dastardly retreat.
In another moment Eugene was surrounded and
disarmed ; the same night a court-martial was ap
pointed ; the morrow saw him tried, convicted, and
condemned for ten years to the galleys at Marseilles.
How those years were passed — what were his suffer
ings to whom honour was dearer than life — what the
yet keener sufferings of her to whom his fate was
unknown, to whom his love had ever been " like the
common air," a part of her existence, the sunny clime
of heart, and soul, and hope, in which she lived and
breathed, — must be left to the imagination of all but
the unhappy few who have made a like shipwreck of
life's dearest blessings, when in view of the happy
shore. Had the excess of moral torture but half the
same power over the heart and soul as that employed
on the human frame, what thousands of victims would
not death earlier number in his ranks ! What deep and
still deeper abysses of misery would be avoided, were

11

the arrows of grief and misfortune only barbed with
the sting of fate ! The expiration of ten years pre
sented Eugene with the felon's passport, a yellow paper
containing the name and description of the freed
galley-slave, to enable him to go forth, a proscribed
wanderer, upon the face of the dark-changed earth.
Years flew on — wars and revolutions had levelled
old dynasties and institutions in the dust — he seemed
to gaze on the shadows of by-gone times — he no longer
heeded whither he bent his steps. Napoleon, the
imperial despot of Europe and of its subject-kings,
had appointed them, as did ancient Rome, to be the
governors of his provinces, and to the gallant Murat
fell the choicest share of the Gallic eagle's prey. It
was in the zenith of his power and fame that French
commanders became the masters of Italian palaces
and villas, — the delicious bays and coasts — the syren
retreats of emperors and generals of old.
In the autumn preceding the grand Russian cam
paign, a party of French soldiers were loitering about
the little fort commanding the bridge in front of the
vast bay of mountains, rocky heights, and coasts that
tower above the town of Vico and the adjacent scenery.
The evening was such as is to be felt only beneath a
Neapolitan sky ; enchanting and magnificent prospects
every where arrested the eye ; and the white sails of
innumerable pleasure-boats were reflected in the clear
blue waters which shone bright and beautiful as the
mirror of their classic ages. Approaching the little
promontory which forms a sort of natural bridge
below the old forts and town of Vico, a little sail was

12 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
observed swiftly gliding close upon the shores of the
bay. When just opposite, one of the party, a lady,
was seen to catch at some object falling into the water,
and in the very act of bending down she was thrown
over by the sudden impulse of its onward career, and
left struggling in the waves. It passed so instantane
ously that the spectators on the bank saw the accident
even before the party in the boat, and the same instant
a soldier threw himself boldly into the bay, and
reached the scene of danger at the precise time, per
haps, when the lady had reappeared for the last time.
He supported her till the rest of the party returned to
her assistance; and, refusing himself to be taken into
the vessel, swam back and regained the shore.
There, while receiving the praise due to his prompt
and spirited conduct from many lips, he was approached
by one of the party, then passing on their return home,
and presented with the direction to the lady's villa, and
an earnest request to attend and receive the expression
of her gratitude. Signifying his assent, the soldier,
having obtained the permission of his superior officer,
proceeded late on the same evening towards the lady's
mansion — an elegant palace not far distant from the
military station. On being shown into her presence
she instantly rose, and was approaching him, when,
struck by his sudden and excessive agitation, she
paused, and half withdrew the rich purse of gold she
held in her hand. Fixing her eyes on his countenance,
and marking its noble yet grief-worn expression, she
at once threw the money aside, exclaiming, " No !
that can never shew my preserver, and to one whose

13

looks". . . . But she was interrupted by the sudden start
and exclamation of surprise which the sound of her
voice seemed to have produced. Pale and trembling,
his eyes rivetted on hers, as if some spectral thing had
crossed his vision, he murmured the name of " Emilie !"
and while their looks, with a strange power of fasci
nation, hung on each other, as if striving to penetrate
the veil of the doubtful past, the lady, uttering one
shriek of recognition, fell powerless into the soldier's
arms. " Eugene !" " Emilie !" were the only words
breathed forth, as they still gazed doubtingly in each
other's faces.
" Dost thou live ? Is it — can it be my Eugene ?
Or hast thou risen to upbraid — to claim — to take me
to thy place of rest ?"
" Oh, lost, lost — yet found at last. It is indeed thy
Eugene, my own Emilie !"
" Thy own !" exclaimed the unhappy lady. " They
told me thou wert long dead — it was sworn — proved —
believed — or I had never been the lost, the hated thing
I am." " Lost — hated ! thou art for ever mine, my Emilie !"
" Ah, knowest thou not — knowest thou not all ?
Then I am the wife of Colville; thou wert dead —
my father ruined — proscribed — reduced to extremest
want — a wanderer with Vendean outlaws ; restored to
all by Colville. I was the price — I wed him, for thou
wert dead."
" Would that I had been ; nor ever heard the
word thou now hast said ! Thou mightest have bade
me, in blissful ignorance, go wander on my wretched

14 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
way. The wife of Colville ! traitor — oppressor —
murderer of my love, my soul, my fame ! Let him
come — let him take the dregs of life he has left !
Grant me patience, sweet heavens !"
" Yes, Colville — traitor — murderer of all our love
and peace !" repeated Emilie," but never will I see
him, — never see my father more : cruel, cruel as they
have all been. But thou, my Eugene !"
" Thy Eugene ! Ah, speak that again ! Wilt thou
fly with me — wilt thou renounce and shun my hated
foes ?"
" Thine, thine only, in the sight of Heaven ! Did
I not pledge my lasting truth — my first vows to thee
while living ? But wert thou not dead ? There is yet
time ; he returns not this night !"
"Then haste ! we must away!" cried Eugene; and
he led her unresistingly towards the door. At this
moment several domestics rushed into the room, with
alarm depicted in their countenances, and handed to
Emilie a yellow paper. Glancing a look full of fear at
Eugene, she cast her eye over it, and the horrid truth
broke upon her in a moment ; he was no longer her
Eugene — a soldier — but a convicted felon who stood
before her in all his terrors, — for what crime she knew
not, cared not. She shuddered and recoiled from him,
as the fatal passport fell from her hand.
Eugene stood rivetted with like horror to the spot ;
he spoke not, sought not to explain, or to detain her
as he gazed on her receding form, borne by her ter
rified domestics for ever from his sight.
The sequel is soon told • the unhappy Eugene,

VIETRI. 15
seized with the frenzy of grief, and no longer master
of his actions, rushed from the spot into the deepest
solitude of the woods and hills : there he some time
lay concealed ; but, with an instinctive and maniacal
love of revenge, he ever continued to haunt the path
of Colville, till at length he succeeded in his purpose.
The mangled body of his former enemy and oppressor
was found, one morning, even in the very chamber of
his palace in which he had the night before retired to
rest in imagined security and ease. Near it also lay
the lifeless form of the early victim of his base un
generous power ; the expression of triumphant revenge,
hate, and dark delight, with which he had planted the
dagger in the heart of his rival, had not yet left his
countenance, though his hand had directed the same
fatal weapon to his own. His fingers were found still
twisted in the hair of his foe ; he yet hung in a wildly
threatening attitude over his couch, as if glorying in
the deed.
On the evening of Emilie's fearful interview with her
lost Eugene, she had taken sanctuary in the neighbour
ing monastery ; and there she closed the strange and
unhappy story of their young love's wrongs.

LA CAVA, CONVENT OF LA SANTA TRINITA.

Io parlo meco, e riconosco in vero
Che mancher6 sotto si grave pondo ;
Ma '1 mio fermo desio tant 'e giocondo,
Ch' io brarao e seguo la cagion ch' io pero.
GUITTONB "' AflEZZO.
Oh, heart effusions, that arose
From nightly wanderings cherished here !
To him who flies from many woes,
E'en homeless deserts can be dear I
The last and solitary cheer
Of those that own no earthly home,
Say, is it not, ye banished race,
In such a loved and lonely place,
Companionless to roam 1 Campbell.

The romantic and magnificent scenery round the
Neapolitan coasts — which affords the more daring foot-
traveller ample reward for his adventure, ushering in
the wilder region of the Calabrese — is rendered doubly
impressive by presenting the time-worn and majestic
monuments in the vicinity of Peestum, Eboli, Salerno,
Nocera, Vietri, and La Cava. Shunning, therefore,
the great roads, he will make his own route : he will
visit Eboli, Salerno, and thence take his way across
the secluded paths till he comes within sight of
the ruined walls of Psestum — a spot so powerfully

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LA CAVA, LA SANTA TIUNITA. 17
delineated in the lines of the distinguished tourist
and poet of " Italy :"
" They stand between the mountains and the sea ;
Awful memorials, but of whom we know not !
The seaman, passing, gazes from the deck ;
The buffalo-driver, in his shaggy cloak,
Points to the work of magic and moves on."
Entering first the valley near the Sarno gate, the
tourist proceeds through some plantations watered by
that river; he will then reach the ancient Nuceria,
taken by the Carthaginian during his fierce expeditions
against the Romans ; which became a Roman colony
under Augustus, and which also received the rebellious
Saracens of Sicily. Towards the left, a little beyond
the modern town of Nocera, may be seen the church of
St. Maria Maggiore, supposed to have been erected in
the time of Constantine, remarkable for its antique
font, resembling that in the Baptistery at Pisa, and
surrounded with a balustrade surmounted by columns,
with others of superior beauty which support the roof.
Approaching, at length, La Cava, from the side of
Nocera, you pass through a rich and diversified country,
opening new prospects as you proceed. The town
itself consists chiefly of one long street, like those at
Bologna, and has porticoes on each side ; it is spacious
and rather populous for its size, and is occasionally
sought for retirement by foreigners, during the summer
months. A little beyond it are some remains, most
probably of an ancient aqueduct, and a villa situated

18 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
very pleasantly amidst hanging gardens. It is in the
vicinity of Vietri, however, and the whole district
between that and Salerno, that the scenery assumes a
more picturesque and impressive appearance. Situated,
as is the former, on an abrupt declivity in the immense
bay of Salerno, it commands a near view of Amalfi,
the islands of the Sirens, and the promontory of Mi
nerva; while on the other side- is seen towering the
memorable promontory of Leucosia, the promontorium
posidium of the ancients. Here, too, is seen Salerno,
hallowed by the footsteps of the poet, and so cele
brated for its enchanting environs, no less by the
muses of old Rome than of modern Italy Once dis
tinguished as the capital of the Picentini, and still half
embosomed in its noble bay, with its valley surrounded
on the northern and eastern sides by its noble and
picturesque mountains, it seems to have been selected
as the most choice and luxurious site for the esta
blishment of monastic institutions. In old times it
was celebrated as a school of medicine, and, during
the reign of its Lombard princes, numbers of learned
Arabs and men of science were accustomed to resort
thither. It is now more frequented for its spring and
autumn fair, and in particular that held in September,
attended with the popular games and customs pecu
liar to the country. " From Salerno," says Mrs.
Starke, " to the commencement of the cross road, is
an hour's drive, through a rich, beautiful, and pictur
esque country, continually presenting little groups
of Calabrian peasants, dressed as Salvator Rosa

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 19
frequently paints them, and either employed in tillage,
walking, riding, or regaling in temporary arbours close
to the highway."
" From Pompeii," observes Mr. Forsyth, " we rode
through a rich and delightful plain. We then passed
through a long street of houses called La Cava, where
every portico was a shop. The pedlars of this place
have given name to the farse Cavaiole, a low species of
drama, exhibiting the tricks of some little Antolychus.
The place itself took its name from a cave which
runs under the neighbouring abbey della Trinitd, the
last great foundation of the Lombards, and still the
richest repository of their antiquities. We then
entered a valley between two convergent Appennines,
and passed through a curious succession of landscape,
or rather elements of landscapes, full of that savage
picturesque to study which Salvator Rosa purposely
resided in this country. In proportion as the valley
contracted, its sides became more precipitate, and
their angles more frequent, more sharp, and more
exact to each other."
At the close of his exquisitely beautiful and pathetic
poem, stamped with all the vivid truth and nature which
rivet the eye and the mind in the landscape of Sal
vator himself, the author of " Italy" makes a touching
allusion to the vesper song of the convent, heard at a
distance in the valley of La Cava, conveying a deep
impression of the character of the scene :
" As night steals on,
With half-shut eyes, reclining, oft, methinks,
While the wind blusters and the pelting rain
C 2

20 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Clatters without, shall I recall to mind
The scenes, occurrences, 1 met with here,
And wander in Elysium ; many a note
Of wildest melody, magician-like,
Awakening, such as the Calabrian horn,
Along the mountain-side when all is still,
Pours forth at folding-time ; and many a chant,
Solemn, sublime, such as at midnight flows
From the full choir, when richest harmonies
Break the deep silence of thy glens, La Cava,
To him who lingers there with listening ear,
Now lost and now descending as from Heaven." Rogers.
There appears little in the convent itself to call for
particular description, and few travellers have given
any extensive account of its localities. It is remarked,
however, by the inquiring Mrs. Starke, that " persons
who wish to visit, on their way from Salerno to Naples,
the Benedictine convent of La Trinita, near La Cava,
should stop at the entrance of that town, and send for a
carriage and two strong horses, to take them up a
light rocky mountain of the Appennines, on which the
convent is situated, at the distance of two miles from
the high-road, and in the mule-path to Amalfi. The
ascent to La Trinita presents fine woods; and the
convent, which is partly hewn out of a rock, and
partly built upon it, is spacious even to magnificence,
but contains nothing particularly worth examination,
as the curious records once kept here were removed
when the French suppressed this confraternity. After
having seen the convent of La Trinita travellers usually
proceed to Naples ; stopping, however, at Pompeii, and
walking through that city, while their carriage goes

I. A CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 21
round the outside of the walls, to meet them at the
villa-suburbana." Strange and appalling in its monk
ish history — the sanctuary of titled desperadoes, and
violators of public or private honour, and startling from
its wild and solitary aspect, La Trinita. is yet more re
markable as having been the witness of some fearful
tragedies connected with the times of its founders,
and political occurrences of an impressive and in
teresting character. Among the latter are some records
of terrific feuds between the rival princes of Salerno,
in the dark feudal periods when Italy bled under the
scourge of Guelf and Ghibelline. Not the least of
all, the people of Amalfi groaned under the bitterness
of their exactions, till their insolent cruelty provoked
a severe retribution on the head of one of these petty
tyrants. They obeyed his summons ; and he fell a
victim to his own tyranny. " They are now forgot,
And with them all they did, all they endured,
Struggling with fortune. When Sicardi stood
On his high deck, his falchion in his hand,
And, with a shout like thunder, cried, * Come forth,
And serve me in Salerno !' forth they came,
Covering the sea, a mournful spectacle ;
The women wailing, and the heavy oar
Palling unheard. Not thus did they return,
The tyrant slain ; though then the grass of years
Grew in their streets." Rogers.
Nor was the civil discord which raged between the
aspirants to sole dominion in the same family of a less
fearful and tragic complexion. Next to the fatal
results produced by the domestic tyranny of Francesco
Cenci, a Roman noble, — which swept off an entire

22 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
family, obliterating even the name, — may be classed the
no less ferocious cruelty exercised by Guelfo, one
of the early princes of Salerno. His father, Tancred,
having lost his consort while in the prime of life, had
again married ; and Guelfo, on reaching manhood,
with a chosen band of followers, joined the banners of
the crusaders. To his dark and haughty spirit, the
castle of his ancestors, where presided a step-mother
and her rising sons, was far less attractive than the
tented field ; and his father, marking the gloom that
hung upon his brow, opposed not his son's design.
Years wore away ; and, having gathered laurels on the
plains of Palestine, the soldier was on his return when
he heard of the decease of Tancred, and that he had
divided his rich heritage, in place of leaving it to
descend entire upon his eldest-born. The dominion
of Salerno, its castles, and the coast was indeed re^
served to the haughty Guelfo ; but, stung with rage,
he made a bitter vow to possess himself, as well, of that
of Avellino and Benevento, fallen to the share of his
brother Averardo. Hastening with his followers to
Salerno, he entered its territories by surprise, bent on
extinguishing his rival's claims in his blood ; and the
latter, wholly unprepared for so sudden an onset, with
difficulty made his escape, and with his family took
refuge in a foreign land. With the lapse of time,
however, circumstances arose which seemed to favour
his cause : the harsh rule of Guelfo had alienated
the affections of his vassals, who could not but contrast
his severity with the mild and just sway of Averardo,
during his brother's absence in the wars. The sons of

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 23
Averardo, moreover, were verging upon manhood ; it
became his duty to renew his claims upon part of the
heritage of his father ; but, temperate and pacific as he
was brave, he had recourse to every other means, before
making an appeal to arms.
His proposals treated with scorn, his conciliatory
offers interpreted into cowardice, he was at length
induced to try the chances of open war. After a series
of severe conflicts, in which not only their own vassals,
but the partizans of the Guelfs and the Ghibellines
took a warm share, they ended in the discomfiture of
the usurper, who was finally reduced to seek shelter in
the last and strongest of his castles. His sons had
fallen in the contest— one daughter was now all that
remained to him. Beautiful, affectionate, and faithful
to him, through crime, and error, and trial of the
bitterest kind, the gentle, noble-hearted Ricciarda *
still refused to desert his side, soothing his fiery nature,
and seeking, by every appeal of humanity and tender
ness that can be suggested by the soul of woman, to
induce him to listen to some reconciliation with his
more successful relatives. This, too, was the object
which Averardo had kept unceasingly in view, being
more deeply interested from the circumstance of his
son Guido having beheld the charming Ricciarda, —
and, having beheld, he loved her. His passion de
vised means of meeting ; it was mutual ; and many
were the short and fearful interviews, snatched during
the pauses of the destructive storm of war and hate
* It is upon this admirable character that the great patriot and poet, Ugo
Foscolo, founded his bold and striking Tragedy of the same name.

24 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
which raged around them. Often her lover conjured
her to leave the castle ; but she felt that she was the
only object on earth her father had now left to love ;
she still bound him to humanity by the last and ten-
derest link ; she still despaired not of winning him
back to peace, hope, repentance, — of realizing the
blissful dream of his uniting the hands of Guido and
herself. Is it wonderful that such a daughter excited
the affection and gratitude even of a parent so stern
and unforgiving? At length, too, — oh, joy! — her perse
vering efforts of unwearied love and duty seemed on
the eve of being crowned with success. Guelfo no
longer refused to listen to his brother's terms : though
smarting under recent defeat, and the loss of his
children, he sent hostages to Averardo, inviting in
return his two sons, Guido and his brother, to come
and ratify the peace by partaking his daughter's society
and the hospitality of his castle. They went, em
powered by their father, and it is here the real tragedy
opens ; events darken as we proceed, and hurry the
wretched victims of paternal discord with breathless
speed to the fulfilment of their doom.
The feast was spread ; the beautiful and the young
were there, reflecting in each other's looks the bliss
that absorbed their hearts on this happy and unhoped
for change. Guelfo smiled upon his guests ; the halls
of the castle rung with the many-voiced chords of
music and the song of the gay trouveur ; the old
ancestral portraits looked down, in the thoughts of
Ricciarda, with less of sorrow and anger, as if re
joicing in the reconciliation of their children ; when

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 25
suddenly a cry was heard ; the place shook as with an
earthquake ; something fell with a heavy unnatural
sound; and, to the eye of Guelfo, the form of his
father, Tancred, swept like a whirlwind through
the room. Was it conscience ? The massy picture
of his sire had fallen to the ground ; and at the
same moment Guido, on the point of drinking to
his uncle's pledge of peace, felt the beverage dashed
from his hand ; it was Ricciarda, who, pale and
horror-struck, stood trembling at his side, and
pointed to his brother, from whose lips that cry of
distress had broken. Guido hastened to his assist
ance ; but in time only to support him in his arms, and
receive his parting sigh. Wild with terror for the
safety of her beloved Guido, the fair girl threw herself
before her father's emissaries who approached to
seize him ; and, at the same instant, throwing off
their disguise, his friend Corrado and his followers, who
had gained admittance as partizans of the Guelfs,
drew their swords, and, opening for themselves a way,
bore him uninjured to Averardo's camp.
What was his grief and indignation on learning so
black a proof of a brother's perjury, and the loss of
his loved boy ; and what the still keener suffering of
the unhappy lovers — thus fearfully torn from each
other ! The contest was renewed with fiercer hate on
the part of one, and despair of terminating it on any
other terms than the complete subjection of his rival on
that of the other. With this view Averardo entreated of
his son not to think more of the lovely Ricciarda, until
they should have secured the person of her terrific father,

26 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
and rescued both her and themselves from the peril of
his farther vengeance. Guido appeared to comply ; but,
alarmed for the life of the being he so much loved,
he could not long resist the temptation of seeing her.
By means of a secret and subterraneous passage he
found his way into the vaults of the castle, whither
the wretched lady, too, was wont to repair and indulge
her griefs by weeping over her mother's tomb.
In such a solitude, dark as the course of their
hapless love, they now first met to mingle their tears over
the grave of their dearest, vanished hopes. Eagerly
did that beautiful, and noble, but grief-stricken lady
beseech of him to consult his own safety, and for ever
abandon to her fate the daughter of the slayer of his
brother ; and as eagerly and vainly did the absorbed,
devoted Guido conjure her not to confide in a parent
capable of sacrificing his own relatives to his ven
geance, but to fly with him from the perils impend
ing over them both. He then declared he would stay
with her and share her fate ; but suddenly a footstep
was heard to approach; the angry voice of the prince
came near and more near; and, half dead with terror,
the lady hurried her lover into a place of refuge, and
calmly awaited the approach of her father.* " Still
here," he exclaimed, " pale, exhausted, haunting the
regions of the dead ! Know ye not that the living called
you? How obeyed you not your father's summons?"
" Forgive ! Summoned I was, but left uncertain in
what part of the castle you awaited me."
* For part of the ensuing dialogue we are indebted to the " Ricciarda"
of Foscolo.

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TIUNItA. 27
" I, too, uncertain whether you were still within
these walls. I know your footsteps, Ricciarda ; thou
wert seen hastening hence."
" These calm abodes, my lord, are part too of your
palace." " And the best part ! Therefore didst thou seek thy
father among the ashes of his race ? Wouldst have it
so — so soon ?"
" I sought my mother's tomb — to weep. To none,
save one, alive, I breathe my griefs ; nor yet to him
would tell the cruel words a father utters to his child :
how he suspects, how wrongfully, even while he loves
her, — cruel to her and to himself. No, not for yours,
— I pray for mine own death."
" Here, then, beside thy mother's urn, it may please
thee best to hear me. That I suspect you not un
justly is well proved by the young traitor seen wan
dering here by night. Dost know it ?"
" It was so said; methought I heard" — replied the
fair girl, trembling for her lover's safety.
" I see it in thy face ! — pity, shame, terror — all for
him. And know you not that he escaped hence, un
heard, unhurt? You are joyful now!"
" I, a stranger, and unknown !"
" So young, and yet a hypocrite ! Try to fool others,
but not me. Believe me when I say that I rejoice
with you that Guido lives — is well. I would not, indeed,
that he should ever perish — by other hand than mine.
But I can punish ; go quickly, Ruggiero ! and let the
heads of those, my sleeping guards, whose watch he just
escaped, look down, a gory beacon from the battlements!"

28 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
The soldier was about to obey, when Ricciarda,
throwing herself at her father's feet, conjured him,
for his own safety, not to exasperate the foreign
bands on which he had to rely for his defence.
It was in vain ; he reiterated his commands only with
greater fury, at the same time desiring their leader to
give double pay to the rest of the troops. He next
summoned Uberto, captain of the Norman band, to
pass the bridge and admit the envoy of his enemy,
while he himself should remain a hostage till the
other's return. In the same angry mood, he recurred
to the subject most hateful to his thoughts; charging
his daughter with being an accomplice with him whom
he termed her seducer, and whose concealment or
flight she had favoured. He informed her, moreover,
that he had given orders for the envoy to be admitted
into the castle to receive a final answer from her lips
that she would no longer listen to the vows of Guido,
or any proposal from his envoy, preferring to bury
herself with him under the ruins of his palace rather
than to yield. " To this," he exclaimed, " I will
compel thee, spite of the affection I yet bear thee,
and which, while it throws light around my fearful
path, yet adds to the intolerable burden of my fate.
Didst thou but love me, didst thou merit my love,
thou wouldst hate those whom my very soul abhors, —
who slew thy brothers, and would usurp my title and
my throne. Swear, then, before his vile emissary, that
thou wilt for ever renounce Guido and his tribe ;
and I will love and honour thee as the noblest and
most heroic of daughters. But thou art silent ; —

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 29
wouldst more joyfully abandon thy unhappy father
for the arms of his hated enemy, who comes with war
and fire to summon thee for his bride. Nay, thou didst
save him even as he pressed the funeral beverage to
his lips ; and for that will ye both have to render me
a strict account. But I hear the shouts of my brave
warriors. Prepare ! for it is the treacherous assault of
my hated foe." He rushed from the place, leaving his
unhappy daughter bathed in her tears.
Meanwhile, the disappearance of Guido from the
camp excited the utmost alarm ; and Averardo, too
well surmising the truth, trembled for the life of his
only son. Instantly calling one of his most faithful
friends and leaders, he expressed his deep anxiety ;
and, with true chivalric spirit, Corrado offered to peril
his life by following him secretly to the castle, and
explaining the urgent necessity for his return, should
the envoy's proposals fail, and recourse be had to
another assault. Averardo, full of gratitude, em
braced his noble friend, and he departed. His efforts
were unavailing, for, though he succeeded in reaching
the castle, he found it impossible, by any arguments,
either of duty or of honour, to induce Guido to aban
don her whom he loved. After a long and fruitless
interview, therefore, Corrado, with the greatest dif
ficulty, made his way back to the camp ; and it was
then that Averardo, despairing of every other means
of rescuing his unfortunate son from the imminent
peril in which he stood, devised the plan of sending
an envoy to treat again with his ferocious brother:
he was himself that envoy.

30 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Before his arrival, however, the mind of Guelfo
had been goaded into fresh tumults by the reported
escape of Corrado, who had been seen and pursued in
retiring from the castle. Nor was he without sus
picious of the stolen interviews between Guido and
his daughter : notwithstanding their utmost precau
tions, he had nearly surprised them ; and threatened the
unhappy girl to have her interred alive, rather than
leave her a possibility of becoming the wife of Guido.
It was in the midst of one of these paroxysms of
revenge that the horn of the seneschal announced the
approach of a herald ; it was Averardo, who came to
plead his cause and watch over his infatuated son,
relying on his brother's being an utter stranger to his
person, for his own safety.
The beautiful Ricciarda having been summoned to
be present at the audience, the supposed envoy of
Averardo was introduced.
" Stand forward !" exclaimed Guelfo, " and judge of
thy reception from the place where thou art received."
" I see around me, my lord, the tombs of your
ancestors. I bear the olive-branch ; their spirits will
rejoice to behold concord in the halls of their sons —
sons and brothers !"
" Brother I never had ; true, while I shed my blood
in Palestine, Tancred, the slave of an artful woman,
believed that she gave him a son. He fled on my
return — untaught to wield the sword ; and now, when
twice ten years are flown, he comes in arms to deprive
me at once of all — of honour, sons, and sway. He calls
me the assassin of his children,— he storms my castle :

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. .31
— vengeance for vengeance, — arms I oppose to arms.
I die, but never yield. He shall have no bloodless
triumph. If I have injured him and his, hath he not
clone it, and sorely wounded me in fame ?"
" But these are reasons why both should now desist.
My master was an exile, — true ; you came with fire
and sword. But that Tancred made unjust partition
of his dominions, I do not know ; but this I know,
that had Averardo left his sons beggars he would have
been unjust and cruel. He asked his rights, which you
by force opposed. You lost your sons — but it was in
the field : they had their funeral rites and fame. Your
brother conquered, yet here you reign ; and this,
methinks, is ground enough for peace."
" Nay ! it is cause of war to dare to speak it. Thy
words are full of guile — thy mien is bold."
" Yes, bold — yet not so much, perchance, as Aver
ardo would have me be ; his cause is just; and guile
he need not use who conquers in the open field."
" But thou who speak'st thus, who art thou ?"
"I am Corrado ! thy brother's friend — a leader of
his troops !"
" I see thou art a Ghibelline from thy aspect. But
tell me, brave chief, if I should trust the faith of
Averardo, how know I that some ambush lurks not in
the dark ? Ere Averardo deigned to ask my daughter,
his son had robbed me of her noble heart ; he sought
to seduce her from me ; meaning to return, no doubt,
and possess himself of my princely rights. I saw the
plot ; but not in time to extirpate the whole of the

32 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
detested tribe. Ah! would that I could have brought,
also, within my grasp, the head of all this mischief —
Averardo ! Then — then — a secret instinct would have
told me that he were the man ! Hearest thou ?"
"And whence this vengeance, prince? If his son
loved, and Averardo asked thy daughter as a pledge of
peace and amity, why violate the laws of honour and
humanity, and stain the festive board with blood !
Where is Guido's brother ? Died he not in this castle ?
Did not his father, indignant at the outrage — at the
crime, appeal again to arms, and drive thee to the last
hold of thy castles ? Be wise ! Stretch forth the hand
of peace ; and let Salerno — let ravaged Italy breathe
from their savage conflicts, and taste repose."
" Never will Guelfo cease to call for vengeance on
his head who robbed him of his sons. Degraded
Italy I scorn ; and would not rule her, save with a
rod of iron. Let Guelf and vilest Ghibelline share
her spoils ; let foreign legions feast upon her charms,
and each ambitious hireling trample her glory and her
beauty in the dust ! It is her fate, I say, and let it be
fulfilled !"
" If neither country, fame, nor pity touch thy soul,
yet for thy own sake listen to thy brother's terms.
Thy troops are few, and routed at all points ; the
German front of war frowns on Salerno, awaiting but
the word to rush to storm and victory ! Be wise in
time ! You can make your terms ; for Averardo trem
bles for his son, whose fatal passion impels him to his
own destruction. Pity, and tremble too, for your

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 33
daughter, as Averardo trembles, — lest your cruelty
should at last compel him to stain his cause with your
blood." " I wish it — if I shed not his. What is his last
proposal ?"
" That you should govern in Salerno, its castles and
its shores ; he in Benevento and Avellino ; and Guido
wed thy daughter."
" Here is that daughter, ready to answer for me and
herself. Speak, Ricciarda, wilt thou join hands with
Guido ?"
Alas ! what would Prince Guelfo have his daughter
say, and to his brother, who had selected her to be his
dear son's bride ? It must be said, albeit it rive my
heart, and I die in uttering those fatal words. The
prince, my father, bids me swear to think no more of
Guido." " To hate — abhor him !"
" I could not, and I would not be so vile ; him only
have I loved — I love him still ; his only will I die.
Yet will I never — never be his wife ; I will obey my
father ; and to Averardo say, — it is his duty to console
— to save his son."
" You have heard," exclaimed Guelfo, " and what
you have heard, report. I do defy my foe — even to
the last !"
" Then be it war ! I shall take back heavy tidings."
And, with these words, Averardo withdrew, in the firm
resolution of making himself master of the castle that
evening, in the hope of preserving the life of his son,
by possessing himself of his brother's person, — every

34 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
method of conciliation having failed. In retiring from
the castle he was met by Corrado, who hastily assured
him of his son's safety ; but that nothing could induce
him to leave the castle without being accompanied by
Ricciarda. Brief and fearful were now the words exchanged
between the lovers, on learning that the attack was
about to be renewed. Seeing Guido unarmed she
hastily gave him a dagger; yet, the next moment,
thinking of her father, in a voice of distraction, she
asks him for it again. As he is about to give it her,
Guelfo suddenly entered the place : Guido concealed
himself among the tombs ; but, ere she can conceal it,
her father seizes on the dagger. A terrific scene ensued ;
he compels her to confess when and from whom she
last had it ; but she will not betray the place of his con
cealment. He threatened to kill her on the spot ; and
to spare him the dread crime she declared that she
would sooner stab herself. Yet he then snatched the
weapon from her hand, and, falling upon her neck,
melted into tears. All, perhaps, had yet been well, but
the storming of the castle had begun ; shouts and the
clash of arms excite anew the rage of the wretched
prince, who, tearing himself from his weeping daugh
ter, rushed out to the defence of his castle, exposing
himself to every danger, and leading on fresh troops
to the walls.
It was in vain. He again returned, brooding only
on vengeance, to the vault, where he found Ricciarda
still weeping at her mother's tomb. Seizing her, he
bore her further along the silent vaults ; and then,

LA CAVA, LA SANTA TRINITA. 35
in a voice of thunder, he called upon Guido, with
every epithet of contempt and rage, to come forth.
No answer met his ear ; when, raising the dagger over
his hapless child, — " Coward ! monster !" he cried,
' ' come forth ! — or now thy promised bride is weltering
in her blood ! Hear'st thou ?"
" I hear !" and at the same moment her lover
rushed from his concealment ; but stood petrified on
beholding the deadly steel glittering over the bosom
of her he loved.
" Fly, fly," she exclaimed, " he will not, he dare
not, hurt me ; is he not my own father ?"
" Fly," repeated Guelfo, " and her naked spirit
shall pursue thee ! Move not, make no defence ; take
from my hand thy fatal gift, or thou shalt see it drink
the life-blood of her thou lovest !"
" I came to take it ! Not that I trust thy mercy, par
ricide ! — kill me thou may'st ; but if thou darest to
strike, to hurt a single hair of that loved head, I'll
take thee by thy parricidal throat — I'll tear thee limb
from limb, and scatter thee in the sea that hoarsely
murmurs below these towers — thy fitting tomb. This
is my will ; approach, for I know thine ! Silent I wait
thy coming."
" No ! here is my bosom ; strike boldly, father, here !"
exclaimed the agonized girl, " for only through my
bosom shall you reach him."
"Guido! seducer! villain ! come quick — or now — "
The young lover approached, and in the same instant
received a stab of the dagger. Ricciarda uttered a
piercing shriek.
d 2

36 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
" 'Tis slight ! — I scarcely bleed, — and better know
how to die than thou, old man, to strike !"
" Ha, hast thou 'scaped me ! Ha ! what noise is
there !" At the same instant, Averardo and his followers
entered the vaults. Guelfo was on the point of stabbing
Guido, but quitted not his hold of his daughter. Guido
called on his father to stand back, or that Guelfo would
kill Ricciarda ; and offered again to become the victim
of her father's rage. He was prevented ; and then, con
centrating his whole fury upon her, Guelfo addressed a
few bitter and fearful words to his conqueror, — declar
ing that he will make him eternally miserable in wit
nessing the wretchedness and remorse of his only son,
withering in his presence day by day, — and plunged
the weapon into his daughter's heart. Breathing her
mother's name — praying for forgiveness of her father's
crime — Ricciarda died ; and Guelfo, invoking curses
upon his brother's race, inflicted upon himself a volun
tary death.

VICO: COAST OF NAPLES.
Quest 'e il premio che torna
A chi tanto s' adorna,
A chi nutre sol carne
Senza qua gio. guadarne,
Dove tutto se volve
In c.enere, ed in polvc,
E dove non e requie o penitenza,
Fino a quel di de 1'uUima sentenza. Andrea de Basso.
Oh ! how severe God's judgment, that deals out
Such blows in stormy vengeance ! Caky's Dante.
In the third volume of the Landscape Annual, for
1832, is contained some account of Vico and the neigh
bouring scenery, with other places along the same line
of coast, to which we now refer the reader. Without
farther dwelling upon mere local topics, it may perhaps
be more interesting to resume at once the thread of
our historical narrative, comprising some of the more
remarkable events which have stamped the destiny of
this most beautiful and ill-fated region of the earth.
No times were more fruitful in political occurrences of
a striking and appalling character than those which
ushered in and succeeded the reign of Queen Giovanna
of Naples — the highly-gifted and accomplished suc
cessor of King Robert ; himself one of the most dis
tinguished among the cultivators and patrons of litera
ture during the thirteenth century. The life of Gio
vanna presents a practical refutation of the popular
error that women are incapable of great undertakings.

38

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

No one more completely triumphed over the aristo
cratic argument that they are mainly intended only for
the preservation of man ; confirming the illustrious
examples which show that all distinction ceases with
the sex, and that, while they are the most lovely and
delightful, they are not the least fascinating in other
than mere exterior embellishment. The order of intel
lect, indeed, is found to vary in one as well as the
other ; but, in proportion to the number exalted to the
highest power, how many more of queens may we not
rank in the lists of royalty, who have distinguished
themselves far above the self-elected lords of the
creation ! In point of capacity and vigour of char
acter, few monarchs, in stormy and perilous periods,
displayed greater daring and decision, though superior
in the more estimable qualities of the heart, than the
unhappy queen of Naples.
This accomplished princess was born in the year
1327 : she lost her father, the Duke of Calabria,
the son of Robert, while that king was still upon
the throne, and only one year after her birth. She
had a younger sister, Maria, the beautiful mistress
of the celebrated Boccacio, daughter of Mary de
Valois, and born after the king's death. Having
been educated in the court of her grandfather, Gio-
vanna at the early age of six was betrothed to the son
of the King of Hungary, in order to accommodate
some political differences. At the age of seven, Andrea
was accompanied to Naples, and by means of a papal
dispensation the nuptials were celebrated with great
magnificence and eclat.

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 39
Until the age of sixteen, Giovanna remained under
the guardianship of her grandfather — a monarch cele
brated for his wisdom and great qualities, and who sur
vived to an extreme old age. On his death she was
declared queen ; the pontifical legate assisted at her
coronation, and received the usual acknowledgment of
the annual sum to be paid by the crown to Clement
VI., and his successors in perpetuity. Prince Andrea
was not permitted to share in the royal ceremony ;
and to this circumstance was owing a series of strange
calamities. The young queen, although of a fiery and
commanding temper, was not the less a woman ; a
foible without which she would have achieved far
loftier objects than her peculiarly warm temperament,
influenced at once by the pleasures of a court and a
southern climate, seemed to promise. She had a prince
for her consort, from whom she ought not to have
allowed her thoughts to swerve ; but, with all the
domineering spirit of an Empress Catherine, she in
dulged, it is said, like her, in the licentious loves of an
Agrippina. She had left to her princely husband only
the undignified character of the queen's consort ; and
even here, it is recorded, that she dictated the conduct
he was to pursue, and the precise time and manner of
his visits more like a sovereign than an equal. Con
tempt and wounded pride were not the happiest ingre
dients for acting as a love-spell, and preserving fidelity
to each other.
Meanwhile, Ludovico, his brother, the King of Hun
gary, having learned that Andrea was wholly excluded
from a share in the government, as well as from the

40 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
title of a king, considered it an insult which re
dounded to the discredit of the family ; the mild-tem
pered Andrea was at length roused by the earnestness
of that monarch's appeals, and they brought their
united complaints before the papal court. The Pon
tiffs of that period assumed, as we well know, a power
over the respective monarchs of Christendom which
they too often succeeded in carrying into effect ; and,
after some negociation, Clement VI. issued his mandate
that Andrea's coronation should take place, and sent a
legate to enforce its celebration. This occurred in
1345, and Giovanna, who had as freely given the reins
to her inclinations as she had held them with a strong
hand over the people, became seriously alarmed at this
sudden invasion of her sovereignty.
She was unwilling to admit of any companionship in
what regarded the exercise of royalty ; and the min
isters whom she employed did all in their power to
confirm her in her opposition to the papal decree.
Charles, Duke of Durazzo, her particular favorite, and
who hated Andrea as a rival, was the first to lay the
train of a conspiracy of as black a dye as any that
disgraces the annals of the royal houses of Europe. To
preserve her power by cutting at once the Gordian knot,
it is asserted that the queen gave it her sanction ; and
different barons, who disposed of the great offices of
state, were likewise parties to it. The execution of it
was given to Carlo, a natural son of King Robert, and
to Beltram, the son of the said Charles; men of the
most violent and resolute spirit. The particulars of
the plot having been fixed upon, the queen was given

vico : coast or Naples. 41
to understand that it could not be put into effect at
the court, on account of the number of Hungarians
who surrounded the Prince, and who were strongly
attached to his interests ; for this reason it was agreed
that Giovanna should induce the king to accompany
her on an excursion to the delicious environs of Aversa.
Extremely fond of his youthful consort, the gentle
Andrea was delighted with her sweetness and affability
of demeanour, and took with him only a small escort —
his cruel and treacherous enemies, at the same time,
bearing him company as part of Giovanna's suite.
On the night 'of the 18th of September was perpe
trated the crime, to which, from the mann'er of its pre
vious arrangement, she is accused of having been an
accomplice. After having retired to the couch of the
young queen, Andrea was suddenly awakened, in the
dead of night, by his attendants, with a message, that
some of the ministers had arrived to inform him of a
serious tumult which had occurred at Naples, and called
for his immediate presence. The prince rose in haste,
and left the chamber, the door of which, it is stated,
was instantly locked behind him. In the passage he
was met by Charles of Durazzo, Beltram, and a
Count Trelisiano, who at first amused him with some
feigned account, until they had conducted him into the
chamber appointed for the deed. There Beltram seized
the prince by his hair, and tried to throw him down.
Turning round upon him, Andrea exclaimed, " What
audacity is this !" When, being assisted by the others,
Beltram at length flung him upon the ground. The
prince resisted to the last, seized the assassin's hand

42 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
in his mouth, nor loosed his hold, it is said, until he
had actually bitten the part off, which was afterwards
found between his teeth ! Trelisiano threw himself
upon the prince as he lay, and, assisted by Carlo,
passed a noose round his neck, with which he was most
inhumanly strangled.
The barbarous act was no sooner committed than the
conspirators hastened to conceal the body ; but, as they
were proceeding down the staircase, the sound of ap
proaching footsteps again drove them into the hall,
where, in the terror of the moment, they threw the
corpse from the window into a garden, without taking
the cord from the neck. In the train that had accom
panied the prince from Hungary was an aged woman
who had been his nurse, and, being extremely attached
to him, she had hastened, on hearing some confused
noise to the queen's chamber. There she found Gio
vanna, seated by the side of her couch, alone ; and, on
making some inquiry about the prince, she is said to
have replied with great levity, reflecting upon the
youth and inexperience of her lord, and declaring that
she knew not what had become of him. The nurse,
still unsatisfied, took a torch and went in search of her
young master ; she approached the balcony from which
he had been thrown, and, as she afterwards averred,
saw, by a strange glowing light which indicated the
spot, the body of the deceased, being guided thither
by some unaccountable impulse. She returned to the
queen, informing her that the prince was lying asleep
in the garden, to which Giovanna replied, that she had
better let him sleep ; when the old lady, descending

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 43
into the garden, cautiously approached, as if fearful of
awaking him. What was her horror to find him dead,
the rope still bound round his neck, and a piece of the
hand of one of the conspirators clutched in the mortal
struggle between his teeth. She ran shrieking from the
place, and instantly the whole palace was in an uproar.
The queen set out instantly, accompanied by the assas
sins, for Naples, whither the body also was secretly
conveyed, and there she retired to one of her strongest
castles. The morning after, on the fact being divulged,
the populace ran in crowds to the palace, calling for
justice upon the traitors — the slayers of their king.
Giovanna prepared to meet the storm ; she issued an
edict, forbidding any citizen to bear arms under pain
of death ; but such was the extreme excitement that,
instead of allaying, it seemed to add to its fury ; and
she only owed her life and crown to the fidelity of her
troops. At the same time, under the direction of the Prince
of Taranto, and Charles, Duke of Durazzo, not yet
suspected of participation in the crime, the people
assembled at the grave of the murdered prince ; and
having taken up the body, with loud cries of execra
tion, they prepared a banner on which was exhibited a
likeness of the king, with the rope hanging round his
neck ; and following this they returned to lay siege to
the castle, crying, " Death to the assassins ! Death to
the infamous queen !"
The assault was continued for two days, at the end
of which the people despatched three envoys to the
castle, insisting on the assassins being delivered up to

44 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
them — a demand which was at first refused, till, induced
by the arguments of Count Severino and others, Gio
vanna complied, excepting only from the number
King Robert's natural son, Carlo, Artuxio, and ano
ther, who fled to the castle of St. Agata, which they
fortified. The conspirators were instantly torn to
pieces by the mob, after which they proceeded with
increased fury against the castle, commanded by Carlo,
which they levelled with the ground ; but, out of respect
for the memory of King Robert, spared him and his
son, whom they conducted under a strong guard, and
lodged in a dungeon at Naples. There, however, they
were secretly put to death ; the queen being the sole
person in the whole list of conspirators who, for a time,
escaped with impunity, on the supposition that she was
then enceinte.
It has, however, been questioned, on plausible
grounds, whether she were really a party to the murder,
a similar sort of mystery enveloping the whole transac
tion as was found to hangover that of Darnley, though
there seems little doubt that both may be ranked in
that long, black catalogue of royal assassinations with
which the great Ogre family of Sultans and of Czars
has, even in recent years, so plentifully abounded.
The tumult having subsided, it became the object of
Giovanna to exculpate herself, in the opinion of Lewis,
King of Hungary, from the charge of being an acces
sary to the murder. With this view she sent the
Bishop of Trapeia to supplicate that he would deign to
take an unhappy widow, left with an orphan child,
under his protection ; but the king replied to him in

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 45
terms which left no doubt as to his intentions of in
flicting a severe vengeance on all the parties concerned.
He was, in fact, busied in preparations to fall upon
Italy with a powerful army, in expectation of being
enabled to possess himself of the kingdom of Naples,
rather than from any motive of avenging the death of
his unfortunate brother. Sensible of the approaching
danger, Queen Giovanna sought to strengthen her
cause by forming a new alliance with some warlike
prince, and on the 20th of August, 1346, she gave her
hand to Luigi, Prince of Taranto, a courageous leader,
and in the flower of his age. But the storm was
already on the eve of bursting on her head ; the king
was in full march, and the Prince of Taranto hastily
collected his army on the banks of the Volturno, near
Capua, with the intention of disputing the passage of
that river. The queen was supported by the barons of
the kingdom ; and the King of Hungary, unwilling to
hazard an attack on that position, directed his course by
Benevento, where he arrived on the 11th of January,
1348. On this astounding intelligence, the entire
army deserted the banners of the Prince of Taranto,
and returned into Naples. Giovanna, who had mean
while fled to one of her castles, hearing the rapid
approach of the incensed Hungarian, snatched toge
ther whatever treasure the time permitted, and, em
barking in a galley, sought to reach an asylum in
Provence. The prince, her husband, hearing of her
flight, accompanied only by his secretary, Niccolo
Acciajuoli, threw himself into a little boat in the
marsh of Siena, in the intention of rejoining his

46 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
consort. Lewis, every where victorious, took possession
of the town of Aversa, where the whole assembled
nobility of Naples had met to congratulate him. The
princes of the kingdom, however, apprehensive of his
resentment, did not attend ; but they were soon as
sured of a safe conduct, with the exception of those
immediately implicated in the murder of his brother.
Carlo, Duke of Durazzo, came, accompanied by the
others, all of whom were received with marked dis
tinction, and admitted to dine at the royal tables, little
anticipating the result. After partaking of refresh
ments, the king ordered his troops to be put in motion,
with a view of entering Naples ; he passed by the
palace where his brother had been inhumanly put to
death, and, reining in his horse, he called for the Duke
of Durazzo, and inquired of him from which of the win
dows the body had been thrown after the perpetration
of the flagitious deed? To this the duke replied,
trembling, that he knew nothing of that fatal business ;
on which the king drew a letter from his pocket, written
by the duke to Charles of Artois, containing a minute
account of the whole transaction. " Know you that
hand-writing, sir ?" inquired the king. He answered
not, — guilt and terror were painted on his countenance ;
he was seized and executed on the spot, the king
ordering his head to be exhibited from the window
whence he had thrown the body of the unfortunate
Andrea. He then caused the remainder of the princes
to be arrested, and had them transported into Hun
gary, as well as the young Prince Carlo Martelli — the
supposed son of Andrea by the queen.

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 47
This act of royal treachery done, he entered the
capital in triumph, and during a sway of four months
he made all ranks, but in particular the patrician
order, keenly sensible of the ruthless spirit in which
he had come to establish his dominion. To add to
the severity of their sufferings, the plague broke out
with such virulence as to carry terror and devastation
into every quarter of the city. The common duties
and charities of life were wholly suspended — the
dearest ties of kindred were torn asunder — those who
had most loved fled horror-struck from each other —
the rites of sepulture ceased to be longer performed —
the avenues and staircases were choked with the dead
— the physicians were swept away — and such even of
the priests who heroically attempted to fulfil their
sacred office might be observed administering the host
to the dying in the streets, the holy wafer being placed
at the end of a long stick. Society became utterly
disorganized ; and the multitude, as is observed in such
fearful visitations, becoming frantic with despair, gave
loose to the worst and most licentious passions, exult
ing, as it were, in the hideous revelry of doom that
raged around them, and satiating with that instinc
tive appetite which seems to slumber in man — his first
savage-born love of anarchy and rapine, which no
time and no laws can wholly eradicate or subdue.
It is no wonder that King Lewis hurried from such
a scene in time to save himself and his army, leaving
his new kingdom to its fate, and pursued by the
curses of the people. All eyes now turned wishfully
towards their former queen ; the people promising

48 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
themselves a greater degree of liberty and licentious
ness under a sovereign whom they could neither
respect nor obey. She had already left Provence for
Avignon, where, with her consort Luigi, she only
awaited a favourable opportunity for regaining the
sceptre she had lost. Being destitute of funds she
had recourse to the expedient of selling the city and
district of Avignon to the Pope, from whom she re
ceived a sum of thirty thousand gold florins — a mea
sure of which the justice was narrowly questioned by
the party most concerned. But it was not enough to
purchase a kingdom ; and it was only by solicitation
of her friends, and the party most favourable to her,
that she added to it sufficient to engage ten Genoese
galleys ; and with these, and two hundred German
horse, she set sail for Naples, and resumed the reins
of government amidst the applause of all classes.
Many of the strong places, however, remained in the
hands of the Hungarians, under the command of Cor
rado Lupo, who despatched a special messenger to
apprise the king of what had taken place. The queen,
supported by her warlike consort, and the whole people,
soon recovered the places retained by the King of Hun
gary ; but, unfortunately, the German troops in the
service of the queen went over to the Hungarians — an
event which threw her affairs into considerable disorder.
The tide of success turned ; the forces of the king
retook the towns they had lost, and even approached
the capital. An engagement took place, the result of
which was, as usual, unfavourable to the Neapolitans,
and they were reduced to purchase their liberty at the

vico : COAST OF NAPLES. 49
price of twenty thousand florins. The Germans,
nevertheless, would not consent to withdraw from the
whole of their possessions without the payment of four
fold that sum. After this, the people rose with great
demonstrations of valour, threatening the rear-guard of
the Germans at a safe distance, as they retired. This
show of fight was a little too precipitate ; for King
Lewis was again at hand at the head of fourteen thou
sand Hungarian cavalry, and eight thousand Ger
mans. He fell like a torrent upon the ceded castles
and cities, laying the whole country under contribu
tion, and reducing the queen and her consort to the
most lamentable condition in the last strong-hold that
remained to them.
The papal power, in that age, being the grand court
of appeal between contending parties, Giovanna had
recourse to Pope Clement VI., who readily interposed
to compose the civil distractions which shook the king
dom. The King of Hungary refused not to listen to
some plan of reconciliation ; and his Holiness, having
pronounced the queen wholly innocent of the crime
laid to her charge, enjoined her to pay to Lewis three
thousand florins of gold to meet the expenses of the
war. With more conscience, however, than the Nea
politans had shown courage, the invader refused to
accept the proffered gift, conceiving it too bad, per
haps, after the sums he had already pocketed, farther
to fleece his Neapolitan sheep, that, in the language of
their own proverb, were apt to make "much cry, but
little wool." His object, he declared, was not rapine,

50 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
but justice ; and, having fully avenged his brother's
death, he consented to withdraw from the kingdom.
Thus terminated the war : the chief delinquent was
suffered at this time to escape ; the avarice and hypo
crisy of the papal court not permitting it to pronounce
Giovanna guilty of assassination, from an apprehension
of losing its good city of Avignon. Each party,
indeed, wore its mask ; even the people assumed one
of bravery, and, as has mostly been the fate of the
people, they were the first to be stripped of their dis
guise, and exposed to all the insults and calamities
which want of moral vigour and unanimity universally
brings upon them from foreign and domestic foes.
Giovanna, freed from her chief enemy, now aimed
at becoming absolute sovereign of the country. The
pontiff favoured her views, and sent his legate to be
present at the new ceremony of coronation, in which
her royal consort was also to appear. It took place in
1342, and was celebrated by magnificent spectacles of
every kind ; the whole of the princes and barons of the
kingdom assisted, and a general amnesty was published,
comprehending all past offences. Fortune, from this
time, seemed to smile on the two sovereigns ; and,
learning that Sicily was reduced to extreme distress,
both by famine and its many baronial feuds, espe
cially between the Catelani and the Chiaramonti, they
resolved to take advantage of the conjuncture. The
king forthwith set sail with six galleys, well armed and
victualled, with the intention of gaining over the people
by affording them unexpected and most opportune

VICO ". COAST OF NAPLES. 51
relief. This argument was seconded by a show of
strength; and the cities of Palermo, Trapani, and
others, mounted the new colours, and testified their
adherence to the Neapolitan crown. But the new
dynasty did not long continue, nor could Giovanna
incline the Sicilians to submit so easily to absolute
sway. Both parties prepared to renew hostilities ; and
civil war and discord had soon reached their height.
A pause occurred in 1355, by the incursion of Count
Lando, at the head of some German troops, which
committed the most horrible enormities throughout the
provinces. Giovanna recalled her consort to their
defence ; but he found them, as usual, so obstinate to
dislodge, that it was only by the old plan of buying
their absence for 100,000 florins of gold, drawn from
the pockets of merchants and nobles, that he could
restore tranquillity.
About this period, Don Lewis of Arragon died, and
was succeeded by his brother Federigo ; but the island
was again convulsed by the faction of the Chiaramon-
tesi, and the fresh exactions enforced by the new king.
The Sicilians, indignant at this treatment, invited back
Giovanna and her consort, declaring that they would
throw off their present yoke, and become altogether
tributary to the crown of Naples.
The royal pair hastened to embrace the offer ; the
Messinese had already hoisted their colours, and on
their arrival they were conducted with every mark of
magnificence into the city where they received the
homage of all classes. In the following year, King
Luigi, who had been crowned with his royal consort,
e 2

52 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
attempted the subjugation of Catania, but failed with
the loss of his entire armament ; a misfortune which
was aggravated by a sudden insurrection in Naples,
organized by the Duke of Durazzo. The new sove
reigns, therefore, were compelled to retrace their steps,
in order not to risk the loss of their own kingdom for
the uncertain chance of obtaining possession of an
other. But no sooner was the disturbance quelled
than they sought to renew their claims ; the Sicilians
refused to aid them, and they were compelled to enter
into negociations ; and a peace, which promised to be
of some duration, was the result.
During this interval of repose, it might have been
supposed that Giovanna would have remained satisfied
with the possession of a kingdom, and a noble consort
in the vigour of his age. Both parties, however, were
of a violent and licentious character ; Luigi was in
variably surrounded by men of abandoned principles,
who gradually alienated from him the love of Gio
vanna, and led to contests so bitter and personal that,
it is asserted, Luigi frequently inflicted upon his con
sort severe corporeal chastisement. It was believed
that his death, which occurred soon afterwards, was
the consequence of this imprudent conduct ; he was
seized with a slow fever, attended with severe internal
sufferings, of which he died in 1362, not without some
suspicion, though founded only on the foregoing cir
cumstances, of having been poisoned.
In no long time, the queen finding it difficult, with
out some alliance, to repress the unruly, excitable
temperament of her subjects, encouraged by the

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 53
ambition of her barons, turned her thoughts to a third
marriage, and shortly after received proposals from the
King of France, on the part of Duke Philip of Tours,
his youngest son ; but Giovanna preferred the claims of
Giacomo of Arragon, son of the King of Majorca,
and a handsome and valiant prince, whose ambition did
not soar beyond bearing the title of Duke of Calabria.
On these terms the contract was entered into, on the
14th of December, 1362 ; but her youthful lord did not
make his appearance in Naples till the end of the
ensuing year. She did not long retain his affections ;
for, deporting herself with all the pride of an absolute
sovereign, she never consulted him upon affairs of
state, till, indignant at the humiliating part he played,
he became a party to all the intrigues and dissensions
prevailing at the court. Urban V., who had sanctioned
the contract between the parties, now exhorted the
young duke to abstain from mixing himself with poli
tical affairs, and rest satisfied with his own rank ; but
Giacomo was of too vehement a temper to obey, and
openly ridiculed an alliance which made him appear
more in the light of a cavalier servente than of an
independent lord.
He was not sorry, then, to avail himself of the event
of a war in Spain, in 1365, to leave Italy, on the plea
of going to the assistance of his father. He took his
departure with ill-repressed joy ; but misfortune pur
sued him ; almost on his arrival he was taken prisoner
in a skirmish ; and he was compelled to apply for his
ransom to his wife, who had the magnanimity, notwith
standing the ill usage she had received from him, to

54 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
purchase his liberty for sixty thousand ducats. It
failed to produce the effect she had, perhaps, intended ;
with singular ingratitude, on his arrival at the Nea
politan court, he resumed his intrigues, and demanded
to be admitted to an equal share in the government.
Giovanna, finding that neither gratitude nor reason had
the slightest influence over his mind, resolved to try a
different method, and had him instantly placed under
arrest, suffering him to remain six months in close con
finement, in order to tame down his fiery and presum
ing spirit. Meantime, her Sicilian dominions had fallen
from her grasp ; Federigo had again become master
of nearly the whole island ; but Giovanna, being
in quiet possession of her Neapolitan territories, no
longer judged it politic to interfere, confining her
views to preserving the undisputed sovereignty in her
own hands.
In the year 1367, the kingdom was invaded by an
army of adventurers, under the conduct of Ambrosio
Visconti, who laid waste, with fire and sword, all before
them. The queen immediately summoned the whole
of her disposable force, and despatched them, with
Giovanni Malatacca at their head, against the ma
rauders. They came to an engagement, in which the
Neapolitans had the rare fortune of coming off vic
torious, returning with the most extravagant marks of
exultation, and bearing the ferocious Visconti and a
number of his companions along with them, to take up
their residence in a dungeon.
The spring of the ensuing year brought tidings of
the renewal of the war in Spain, with every aggravation

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 55
of inveterate hatred and revenge. The unfortunate
Giacomo, now set at liberty, took the resolution of
leaving Naples for the second time, departing almost
without the queen's knowledge, accompanied only by
a small suite of followers. With a strange fatality he
had hardly landed on his native shores, on the eve of
a terrible battle, when, leading on a small body of
troops, he was killed. The tidings of this event are
said to have been received by Giovanna with marked
indifference. She soon after repaired to Rome, where
she was admitted to kiss the foot of Pope Urban, and
received from his hand, as a mark of honour, the golden
rose. For the third time a widow, the queen seemed now
to devote her attention entirely to matters of state :
she suddenly renewed her claims to Sicily ; and, so
imposing were the preparations that Federigo, in great
alarm, applied to the Holy Pontiff, beseeching him to
interpose his good offices, and lay the ground-work of
a permanent peace. At his express recommendation,
Giovanna listened to Federigo's offers ; and it was
ultimately concluded that Federigo should hold the
sovereignty of the island as a fief from the crown of
Naples, paying the annual sum of fifteen thousand
florins, and assuming only the title of King of Trina-
cria, leaving to Giovanna that of Queen of all the
Sicilies. Till the year 1375 Giovanna continued in her single
state ; but at that period she cast her eyes on Otho,
Duke of Brunswick, a prince of the empire, sprung
from the imperial lineage. The negociation was soon

56 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL,
brought to a successful close ; the prince accepted the
proffered conditions, that he should possess no title or
authority in the state, and the nuptials were celebrated
on the 25th of March, 1376. On the death of Gregory
XL, in 1378, Bartolommeo Prignano was elected pon
tiff, by the title of Urban VI., an event extremely
gratifying to Giovanna, who deputed her husband,
Otho, attended by a splendid retinue, to bear her con
gratulations, with rich presents and assurances of duty
and obedience, to the feet of his Holiness. The duke's
reception, however, was such, that he returned utterly
disgusted with his embassy, making statements which
entirely changed the queen's views with regard to the
character of the sovereign pontiff. She threw her in
fluence entirely into the opposite scale, embracing the
interests of the French cardinals, and even openly
declaring against the papal power. On hearing of
her rebellious conduct, the pope is said to have ob
served, smiling, " that he would send Madam of Naples
to spin in a convent ; a better trade than she had yet
exercised ;'' words which, on being reported, threw the
court of Naples into a blaze, rousing the furies of
discord to the highest pitch.
It was now the cardinals who had withdrawn from
Rome, having formed a new conclave, pronounced the
excommunication of Pope Urban, as a usurper of
the apostolical see, at the same time investing the
cardinal of Ginevra with the dignity of anti-pope, by
the title of Clement VII. Shortly after his election,
the new pontiff repaired to the court of Giovanna, who,
relying on the protection of the King of France, had

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 57
become his avowed patroness. He was received by
her with every demonstration of respect; but the
people did not participate in the royal feelings, retain
ing the same reverence as before for their country
man Urban. A Neapolitan revolt was soon organised
against the anti-pope ; and such was the rapidity with
which it spread that Giovanna, to save herself, com
pelled his Holiness to decamp from her court as
speedily as possible. He went to Fondi, and from
thence to Avignon, where he fixed his see, amusing
himself by making a number of cardinals, superintend
ing processions, and hurling fresh anathemas at his
enemy. The latter now proceeding with vigour against
Giovanna, she was, in turn, assisted by the anti-pope
with a supply of men and money ; but Urban, having
got possession of the castle of St. Angelo, held by an
adherent of Clement and the queen, soon after gave a
signal defeat to the anti-papal forces — an event which
led his rival to adopt measures for a speedy retreat
from Italy.
The queen, confounded by this unexpected intelli
gence, sent off ambassadors to Rome, appealing to
his clemency, and assuring him of her hearty repent
ance, and a return to the most perfect obedience to the
Holy See. Too incensed to listen to so early an
accommodation, Urban commanded the envoys to be
dismissed with every mark of ignominy and contempt.
Nor did his Holiness stop here; he entered into a
secret treaty with King Lewis of Hungary for the purpose
of dethroning Giovanna, and raising Charles, Duke of
Durazzo, to the royal dignity in her place. He farther

58 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
launched forth one of his bulls, denouncing her as a
confirmed heretic, guilty of high treason, deprived of
all her dominions, — her effects to be confiscated, — her
subjects absolved from their fealty, &c. &c, exhibit
ing altogether a lively specimen of the then temporal
authority of the Holy See. He next invited King
Lewis to hasten his preparations to fall upon Italy, and
chastise his enemies and those of the church ; but this
the Hungarian monarch, now far advanced in years,
declined to do, contenting himself with despatching
Charles of Durazzo, after terminating tjie Venetian
war, to take possession of the whole Neapolitan domi
nions, and to dethrone the queen.
Giovanna foresaw the approaching storm ; she re
solved to meet it ; and, by the advice of the anti-pope,
she adopted Louis, Duke of Anjou, and brother of
Charles V. of France, for her son and heir. Owing,
however, to the death of Charles, the arrival of the
duke in Italy was followed by no favorable results.
The Prince of Durazzo proceeded towards Rome
with nine thousand Hungarians, and five hundred
archers, where he arrived at the close of 1380. He
was received by the pope with great distinction, made
a senator of Rome, -and invested with a title to
the kingdom of Naples, which he prepared to take
possession of in the following spring.
Giovanna had not been idle; while, the time having
arrived for the expedition, Urban collected his troops,
gave them his solemn benediction, and placed them
under the command of his favourite champion the duke.
On her part the queen relied on the known valour of

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 59
Duke Otho, her consort, and on the support of the
Neapolitan barons ; but, with their usual consistency,
they failed her at the hour of proof. Duke Otho
opposed himself manfully to the enemy on the fron
tiers ; but he was compelled to retire, and ultimately
to Naples itself, where he prepared to stand a siege.
Powerful demonstrations were made, on both sides,
for another struggle ; but traitors to their commander
and their queen opened the gates to the enemy on the
16th of July, 1381 ; and the new-invested king, rushing
eagerly to the storm, carried every thing before him ;
the queen, with difficulty, finding refuge in Castel
Nuovo, where she was besieged by the victor. Duke
Otho fled to Aversa ; and, reduced to the utmost ex
tremity, Giovanna consented to capitulate, if, at the
end of fifteen days, no relief should arrive. Otho, on
learning her distress, resolved to make one effort for her
rescue ; and on the 25th of August, the last day of the
term, he attacked the king"s army with the utmost im
petuosity, till, being grievously wounded and made
prisoner, his most faithful followers were cut to pieces
around him, and his army put to the rout. This battle
decided the fate of the queen : she surrendered to the
conqueror, by whom she was sent, a close prisoner, to
the castle of San Felice.
In the beginning of 1382, Louis, Duke of Anjou,
the adopted heir of Giovanna, made preparations to
contend the sovereignty of the kingdom with his rival,
and succour the imprisoned queen. He assembled a
powerful army, and, with the usual impetuosity of the
French, fell like a tempest upon Italy, to the surprise

60 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
and dismay of the new-made king. Up to this period
the latter had treated Giovanna with some degree of
humanity ; but, aware that his rival's title rested on her
for support, he had recourse to terror to bring her over
to his own views. He desired her to give orders to the
commanders of the Provencal galleys to acknowledge
him for their lord. They had been sent for the sup
port of the queen's cause, but had found, on arriving,
that she was already a prisoner. With courage above
her sex, she commanded that the captains should be
conducted into her presence, and, in the face of her
conqueror, exhorted them, by every argument, to re
main true to their honour, faithfully serving the king
she had adopted, Louis of Anjou, her lawful heir ; but
never to submit to the sway of a robber and assassin.
A reply so haughty and insulting called for strong
measures; Charles ordered her to be committed to
still closer confinement, and despatched a special
courier to King Lewis of Hungary, informing him of
what had passed, and requiring to know in what
manner he should dispose of the deposed queen.
The answer returned was, that she should suffer the
same death which had been inflicted on the unfortunate
Prince Andrea, her first husband. Upon the same
night when this strangely retributive sentence was
received, however barbarous (and perhaps unmerited)
we may pronounce it, it was carried into execution,
and she was inhumanly strangled in prison on the 21st
of May, 1382.
Thus ignominiously perished the lovely, gifted, and
accomplished daughter of a distinguished monarch,

VICO : COAST OF NAPLES. 61
who had been loved and venerated by his people.
With a lofty intellect and courageous spirit — though
greatly obscured by early crime and error — she also
emulated her grandfather's example in the cultivation
and patronage of letters. She was the friend (it is
stated, also, the mistress) of Boccacio, who wrote most
of his celebrated works either at her instigation or that
of her sister; and had she not, like the unhappy Queen
of Scots, formed an unfortunate alliance in the out
set, she might have realized the expectations of her
youth, and pursued a career more worthy of her signal
talents, and the example of her great predecessor.
But the slave of fiery passions, she was hurried into
acts of criminality ; she was the queen too of a dastard
and faithless people ; and the same ungovernable
subjects who had applauded her beauty and accom
plishments, sworn allegiance, betrayed, and recalled
her repeatedly to the throne, deserted her at her utmost
need, and gazed with apathy on the beautiful, half-
naked form, exposed, without a single adjunct of
honour, or of royalty, to the scorn of the public eye.

MO LA DA GAETA.

'Tis a wild life, fearful, and full of change,
The mountain-robber's. On the watch he lies,
Levelling his carbine at the passenger;
And, when his work is done, he dares not 6lecp. Rogers's Italy.
Whether, in reference to the more ancient or the
more modern character of Mola and the adjacent
territory, the unpleasing and rather startling tone of
the above motto will be found, it is feared, any thing
but unjust and inapplicable. From the period of
Ulysses's voyage to that of the establishment of
Spanish dominion in the kingdom of Naples, Mola, the
ancient Formise, founded by the Lcestrygones, — those
Anthropophagi of the old world — has possessed the
unenviable notoriety of having devoured an incredible
quantity of human flesh ; its nobility and princes also,
if we may believe the highest poetical authority,
having been particularly attached to that species of
antiquated diet. Into the port between Mola and
Gaeta, Homer, it is conjectured, conducted Ulysses
and his friends; it was there they were so terrified
with that gigantic race of Lsestrygones, " Whose
queen they found vast as a mountain's top." The ac
count left us, by the great father of the Epic, of the
manners and appearance of the former inhabitants — if
indeed he was describing the place at all — with his

MOLA DA GAETA. 63
vivid description of the scenery round the bay, is too
admirable to omit ; and we shall give it almost entire
in the spirited version of Pope. After innumerable
storms and perils, the Prince of Ithaca and his com
panions hail the fair aspect of Italy : —
" Six days and nights a doubtful course we steer,
And next proud Lamos' stately towers appear,
And Lsestrygonia's gates arise distinct in air.
******
Within a long recess a bay there lies,
Pdg'd round with cliffs high pointing to the skies ;
The jutting rocks that rise on either side
Contract its mouth and break the rushing tide.
Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat,
And bound within the port their crowded fleet ;
For here retired the sinking billows sleep,
And smiling calmness silver'd o'er the deep.
I only in the bay refused to moor,
And fixed without my haulsers to the shore.
From thence we climbed a point whose airy brow
Commands the prospect of the plains below :
No tracks of beasts, or signs of men we found,
But smoky volumes rolling from the ground.
Two with our herald thither we command,
With speed to learn what men possessed the land.
They went, and kept the wheels' smooth beaten road,
Which to the city drew the mountain wood,
When, lo ! they met, beside a crystal spring,
The daughter of Antiphates, the king ;
She to Artacia's silver spring came down
(Artacia's streams alone supply the town) :
The damsel they approached, and ask what race
Her people weref who monarch of the place :
With joy the maid the unwary strangers heard,
And showed them where the royal Dome appeared.
They went ; but as they entering saw the Queen,
Of size enormous and terrific mien,

64 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Scarce yielding to some bulky mountain's height,
A sudden horror struck their aching sight.
Swift at her call her husband scoured away
To wreak his hunger on the destined prey ;
One for his food the raging glutton slew,
But two rushed out and to the navy flew.
Balked of his prey, the yelling monster flies,
And fills the city with his hideous cries ;
A ghastly band of giants hear the roar,
And, pouring down the mountains, crowd the shore.
Fragments they rend from off the craggy brow,
And dash the ruins on the ships below :
The crackling vessels burst ; hoarse groans arise,
And mingled horrors echo to the skies.
The men, like fish, they stuck upon the flood,
And crammed their filthy throats with human food."
That the great poet, in the foregoing description,
meant to refer to the port lying between Mola and
Gaeta, with the high promontory above it, acquires
some confirmation from the observation of Cluverius,
that the classic authors have all along understood it
as such. He cites, too, the lines of Ovid, where he
feigns iEneas to have met with Neritius Macareus, one
of the voyager's companions on the Cajetan shore.
They are to be found in the fourteenth book of the
Metamorphoses, and are to the following purport :
" Talia convexum per iter memorante Sibylla," &c.
" The sibyl mounting now from nether skies,
And the famed Ilian prince, at Cuma rise.
He sailed, and near the place to anchor came,
Since called Cajeta, from his nurse's name.
Here did the luckless Macareus, a friend
To wise Ulysses, his long labours end."
It would appear, moreover, that Rome's great orator
and patriot, Cicero, who sometimes lived, and who

MOLA DA GAETA. 65
died near the spot, had understood Homer as speaking of
Formia3, if we may judge from a passage in one of his
letters : Si vero in hanc* T»;\e7riAoi> veneris, *Aai<rpi7om'rw
(Formiasdico) qui fremitus hominum ! quam irati animi !
" If you come into this wide-gated Leestrygonia (I mean
Formiee), what murmurings of men, what angry minds !"
It is admitted, beyond doubt, that Cicero possessed a
villa at Formise, as well as at several other places,
from frequent mention of the fact in his epistles to
Atticus; but it is not equally clear that the villa For-
miana in what is called Cicero's garden, is the one which
belonged to him, it being situated most probably
nearer to the sea. The extent of the ruins, and its
evident traces of ancient magnificence, point it out,
in the opinion of many, as the palace of the Mamurrse.
Formise itself is termed by Horace the city of the
Mamurree ; and here he stopped to refresh when wearied
with his poet's journey, of which he has left so amusing
an account: " In Mamurrararum lassi deinde urbe manemus."
It derived its name, most probably, from having
been the birth-place of the Mamurree; and M. Dacier,
whose inquiries on this head are extremely precise, is
of opinion that the city was the property of one of
that family, the friend of Caesar, and known to be
one of the wealthiest men in Rome. For this
reason the most remarkable of the ruins shown at
Mola is less likely to have been once the residence of
Cicero, than of him who was proprietor of the entire
place. Its real site, with more probability, lies beyond
* The exact words used by Homer.
F

66 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Mola, fronting a bay formed by the sea in the remoter
part of the promontory of Gaeta, where the Appian road
is covered with remains of houses, one of which is sup
posed to be Cicero's Formianum. Enough has escaped
the ravages of time to show the antiquity of their
construction in the peculiarly small and elegant
rooms, the windows, and the doors ; every thing was
found faced with marble* and the decorations were
distributed with singular classic chasteness and taste.
Opposite these houses is a gentle declivity, once sur
rounded with olive-groves and gardens, and leading
to the sea-side. It was there, according to received
tradition, that Cicero fell a victim to the resentment of
Antony and Fulvia ; and this spot, if we may give
credit to Appian, travellers from all parts used to seek
out, with a veneration little short of religious en
thusiasm :
"Grey and o'ergrown, an ancient tomb is there." Rogers.
The Via Appia, or Appian road, is skirted by a
number of other small towns and buildings, besides
Mola da Gaeta. It is, perhaps, one of the most
striking proofs that remain of the power and wealth of
the Romans. It was constructed solely at the cost of
Appius Claudius ; it took five days to traverse it from
Rome, and extended through the kingdom of Naples to
Brundusium. Its breadth admitted of two waggons to
meet and pass; it was formed of immense, stones of black
flint, each as large as two men could bear, and so closely
congested that they remained solid and unyielding
duringthe space of 1800 years. By the continual passage

MOLA DA oatsta; 67
of horses and mules, the surface of the road is said
to have become so bright and smooth as to assume at
a distance, and in particular on a clear sunny day, the
appearance of a glittering silver expanse, extending
as far as the eye could reach. Its more modern con
struction boasts at once durability and magnificence.
The next towns to Mola, on the Roman road, are
Terracina and Fondi, the latter of which is recorded
to have been burnt and ravaged by the celebrated
Barbarossa, admiral of the Turkish fleet. He com
menced his career as a pirate, and so successful was
he in his buccaneering exploits that he at length
became Dey of Algiers, a place which he easily
induced to shake off the Spanish yoke. It was while
pursuing his depredations in the Mediterranean Sea
that he was informed by his spies, ever on the alert
for prizes of this kind, of the extraordinary beauty of
Giulia Gonzaga, widow of Vespasian Colonna, and
the most accomplished as well as lovely woman of
her times. The daring pirate resolved to include her
among his other conquests. He ascertained that she
was residing at Fondi, in a palace not far distant from
the shore. He approached cautiously in the dead of
the night, landed his men, and, while the town lay
buried in slumber, had surprised and nearly surrounded
the mansion of the intended victim of his lawless
attempt. Another moment, and she was lost. But,
apprised by one of her domestics of the sudden attack,
she hastily arose from her bed, and, leaping out of one
of the back windows, near the ground, more than
half undressed, she "rid away," in the words of an old
f 2

68 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
traveller, " in her very linen, and escaped so nar
rowly that, had she staid to put on any clothes, she
had for ever put off all liberty. The pirates, amissing
of this fair Helena, failed not to make a burning Troy
of Fundi, ransacking it and carrying away the best
of its inhabitants : such dangerous things are great
beauties to weak towns."
That the depredatory character of this region was
not confined to the sea, we have the authority of a
more modern traveller, though he has certainly over
charged the picture, when he observes that " a frontier
between two such states as Rome and Naples must
abound in crimes. At Terracina every fifth man you
meet is a sbirro, or an assassin, or both. The Pontine
marshes were infamous for robbery in Juvenal's time ;
and most of the postillions who are now stationed there
have retired from punishment to the horrid asylum of
a climate, where none but criminals could be found to
reside. At present, the postillion's horn and whip-
cracking are forbidden on the roads of Italy, where
they served too long as a call for robbers.
" On entering Fondi, we drove to the custom-house,
and there we found a tall Castrato, muffled up to his
nose in a cloak, and basking over a pan of charcoal.
He struck me as a modern edition of the scribe who
amused Horace at this town. Advancing solemnly,
with a pen at his ear, he fell into argument with a
Neapolitan advocate, one of our party, and he pre
tended to teach him the law of Naples. Their alter
cation was at first civil enough, till the lawyer, ashamed
of his opponent, called him a musicotto. ' Do you

MOLA DA GAETA. 69
know whom you insult ? ' cried the man of office : ' I
am here the organ of government.' — ' And a well-
toned organ thou art !' said our companion, ' the
prettiest treble that I ever heard in a custom-house.'
This poor joke cost him dear ; for the vindictive scribe
returned to the charge, and condemned a small pack
age, which had occasioned the dispute, to be carried
by express to Naples, at the punster's expense.
" At every stage on this road you perceive a marked
difference in the female costume, and those provincial
modes never vary. The young women of Mola have
coiled their hair ' alia lumaca,' from ancient times;
for this mode is common on Greek statues. I observed
a group of those nymphs standing up to their knees
in a fountain at washing-stones ; while their idle
swains were leaning over a bridge, admiring those
coquetries which are natural to all women on a partial
display of their forms. Such figures come often into
Italian landscapes ; and here the painter might bring
in the Lsestrygonian princess filling her pitcher ; for
this fountain, like Homer's Artacia, is a source emitting
a full stream, and flowing direct to the sea just without
the town."
The description of a quaint old English traveller
ought not to be here omitted: "Arriving at Mola,"
says Lassels, " I went to see Cicero's tomb, which
stands in a garden not far off. And I the more
willingly believe it to be his, because it is certain
that Tully had a villa in Formas (which was this
place); thither he was going in his litter, when he
was overtaken by the executioners of the Triumviri

70 THE LA.NDSCAPE ANNUAL.
and beheaded. There are no words upon his tomb,
of which, if you ask me the reason, I can only tell
you, that either words in prose could not speak, their
Tully being dead ; or verses would not, out of envy,
praise him who had made prose so famous.
" Having seen this, some of our company and I
took a boat and four lusty watermen to row us to
Gaeta and back again, while the rest stayed at Mola
to provide dinner. Arriving in little more than half
an hour at Gaeta, we went up to the castle, where we
saw the skeleton of Charles Bourbon, once constable
of France ; but afterwards, taking against his own king
upon a disgust, he served the emperor Charles V., and
was made one of the generals and governors of Milan ;
where, having borrowed money of the Milanese, and
having laid a deep curse on himself (wishing he might
die in the first enterprize he undertook) if he paid not
back the money by such a time, he failed in his word,
but his curse did not. For his next enterprize was
to go and sack Rome : and there his curse met him as
he scaled the walls ; and, being shot with a musket
bullet, he was forced to pay his debt to nature too.
His body was carried to Gaeta, where it- stands, with
its clothes, boots, and spurs on, in a long box, straight
up, with this Spanish epitaph over his head (thus
Englished) :
' France gave me milk, Spain great employments gave,
Rome gave me death, and here Gaet' a grave.' "
" At Mola," says another traveller, no less amusing
in his way, " I asked for a barber: immediately after

MOLA DA GAETA.

71

comes in a tall, swarthy, meagre man, with whiskers ,
a coat all in tatters, and a spada of an enormous
length ; in a word he appeared to be a brave de
scendant from the ancient Lsestrygones : after all the
Italian ceremonies previous to this operation, he
shaved me with such terrible dexterity and despatch
that I never before nor since met with the like, and
was glad when it was safe over. I did not forget to
ask what countryman he could be, and where he had
learned his trade : he told me he was a Catalonian,
and was just come from Constantinople, where for six
years he had practised shaving, but could hardly keep
life and soul together, being but a bungler in com
parison with the Turkish barbers."
Nearly all that belongs to the modern town of Mola
is a single street extending to the bay, which is covered
towards the west by the promontory of Gaeta, com
manding a magnificent view of the surrounding sce
nery. The hill where Formise stood has since become
a fruitful garden of the vine, but the tourist may yet
trace the remains of a wall of extraordinary thickness,
consisting of very large stones uniformly cut in em
bossments. The sort of embellishment they exhibit
must have been the work of extreme care and labour,
the materials being composed of hard silex, united by
a natural cement, to which naturalists give the English
name of pudding : and of this consists, in one entire
mass, the extensive promontory of Gaeta.
The adjacent hills, of which this promontory forms
the continuation, were for a long period the haunt of
successive gangs of banditti, chiefly deserters from the

72 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
armies which, during most part of the sixteenth
century, were engaged in hot contest for the mastery
of the kingdom of Naples. These truly black bands,
peculiar to some parts of Italy, were no unworthy
successors to the exploits of the men-eating Lsestry-
gones ; and in fact they formed themselves into a
sort of republic, which, if the Spanish viceroys did not
tolerate, they seldom ventured to disturb. While in
possession of their strong-hold of the hills and rocky
eminences round the castle of Gaeta, travellers never
approached the vicinity except in company of numerous
caravans, and all being well prepared for a contest.
It was in Mola da Gaeta, when on his journey to Rome,
that the celebrated Torquato Tasso, with his com
panions, were stopped in their progress by a report of
the famous bandit Sciarra being in the neighbourhood,
with a formidable troop of his followers. " Tasso's
ardent temperament," says Mr. Stebbing, " could ill
brook the constraint occasioned by an interruption of
this kind ; he had already taken a hasty leave of his
friends Pellegrino and Attendolo at Capua, while his
escort, Procaccio, at the same time urged him forward.
Thus situated, he wrote a letter from Mola to his
friend Feltro, in which he stated, ' that he greatly
wished to go forth and employ the sword he had given
him, but was prohibited from stirring, by the com
missaries, till the country should be quiet.' • How long
he might have had to endure this species of imprison
ment it was impossible to tell, but, just as his stock of
patience was exhausted, he received, to his astonishment,
a letter from the robber himself, which intimated that

MOLA DA GAETA. 73
not only was the road open to him, but that Marco
di Sciarra was ready to provide him both protection
and every accommodation to render his journey safe
and agreeable. Tasso could not but return his grateful
acknowledgments for the honour thus paid his name ;
but, fearing he might injure himself with the com
missaries if he accepted the proposal, he rejected the
bandit's offer. Marco, however, fully resolved upon
manifesting his regard to the poet, immediately sent
word to Tasso that he would withdraw his band
altogether from the neighbourhood* — -a testimony to
the power of his genius and the extent of his fame of
precisely the same nature with that which Ariosto
received at Garfagnana."f
" Time was, the trade was nobler, if not honest ;
When they that robbed were men of better faith
Than kings or pontiffs; when such reverence
The poet drew, among the woods and wilds,
A voice was heard, that never bade to spare,
Crying aloud, * Hence to the distant hills !
Tasso approaches ; he whose song beguiles
The day of half its hours ; whose sorcery
Dazzles the sense, turning our forest-glades
To lists that blaze with gorgeous armoury,
Our mountain-caves to regal palaces.
Hence, nor descend till he and his are gone,
Let him fear nothing.' " Rogers.
It was not till towards the close of the seventeenth
century that the kingdom of Naples was effectually
cleared of those formidable bands, dreaded alike by
strangers and by the natives ; and for this it was in-
* Manso. t Stebbing's ,( Lives of the Italian Poets."

•74 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
debted to the courage and energy of the Marquis di
Carpi. The travellers of all countries unite in com
memorating his bravery, among whom Father Mabillon,
Misson, and Bishop Burnet are none of the least
grateful, and lavish of their encomiums upon his
conduct. Some record of the lives of the more ex
traordinary of these bandit-chiefs of Italy has by
accident been preserved ; and, though affording few
instances of the chivalric and honourable feeling shown
by Sciarra, abounds in singular and almost marvellous
adventure. In this latter respect, none perhaps can
vie in interest with the memorials left us of the far-
famed Neapolitan, Tiberio Squilletti, commonly called
Fra Paolo, whose crimes, whose daring exploits, and
whose subsequent conduct and extreme sufferings,
have all more the air of a romance than of real oc
currences. Squilletti was born about the year 1595, in the
small territory of Catanzano, situated at the extremity
of Italy, below the promontory of the gulf of Otranto,
in the kingdom of Naples. He early became an
explorer of the lonely woods, the hills and wilds,
around the coast and in the vicinity of Mola da Gaeta.
In his youth he was remarkable for his fiery and active
spirit, combined with great intellectual acuteness ; and,
as he grew to manhood, he gave evidence of marked
talent, as well as a frankness and boldness of demean
our which produced a very favourable impression
upon strangers, no less than on those who knew him.
His habits unfortunately did not long keep pace with
the improvement of his personal qualities and his

MOLA DA GAETA. 75
mental capacity ; he became vain and arrogant in his
carriage, violent and quick in quarrel, in addition to
a suspicious, sceptical, yet reckless turn of mind.
He went with his father at an early age to Naples,
where he entered the royal college, and prosecuted
his studies with a view of pursuing a legal career.
He made rapid progress ; but this was interrupted by
the untimely death of his father — the origin, most
probably, of all his future errors and excesses, and
but for which, with such talents, he might have become
the boast and ornament, instead of the terror and
execration, of his country. Instantly throwing up his
former pursuits, he quitted Naples for Rome, where
he was fortunate enough, at first, to meet with several
eminent and respectable prelates, by whose persuasion
he was led to complete the course of academical
studies he had already entered upon.
But the regard of some distinguished personages to
whom he was subsequently introduced proved by no
means equally beneficial to him ; for, under their
patronage and encouragement, the worst features of
his character took deeper root, and showed themselves
in a strange combination of hardihood and malignity
of purpose. This was appreciated by the more aban
doned of his noble associates ; and he was soon
employed in various secret and difficult undertakings :
he was set as a spy upon the motions of their adver
saries, and, by no wonderful transition, he thus became
the fit tool of their most fearful and desperate designs.
A faithful minister to the wants of powerful vice, he
was nevertheless hated by his employers as the dc-

76 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
pository of their secret plots ; and, aware of his own
importance, his arrogance soon became intolerable
to them.
Playing a double game, he had by the most artful
means gained the confidence of the exiled party ; and
this coming at length to the ears of his early patrons,
they withdrew from him not only the conduct of their
affairs, but the proceeds he had hitherto drawn from
such a source ; it being the custom of such lordly per
sonages to seek out for ministers for their iniquitous
views — to enforce strictest secresy — and, when their
objects shall have been fully accomplished, to " whistle
them down the wind, a prey to fortune." This led
Squilletti seriously to consider his position; he resolved
to change his plans, and, under the veil of religion, to
give a freer impunity to every species of extravagance
and vice to which he was most addicted. Retiring,
at once, from high company and from courts, he took
upon himself the old hermit's penitential garb, and,
with scandalous hypocrisy in a beginner, he withdrew
into a small half-ruined church, which lay on the
high road from Rome to Naples. There, instead of
counting his beads, he noted the character of all those
who went by ; and when of sufficient wealth, or with
other recommendations, he contrived to convey in
telligence to the exiled parties, who took measures of
vengeance, for plunder, or other enormities, which
they perpetrated against their real or supposed enemies.
The hermit-chief thus succeeded, by observing the
most sanctified exterior, in reducing robbery and
extortion to a complete system, till, growing insolent by

MOLA DA GAETA. 77
success, he fell under the suspicion of a Roman noble,
who had been plundered near the spot, and who
communicated what he had observed to the pontifical
court. It was directed that the proceedings of the
new anchorite should be strictly watched ; and, spite
of his caution, it was proved that he was an accom
plice in the daring attacks upon life and property that
had created so much terror through the adjoining
districts. But, informed of the impending danger
by the counter-spies he employed, Squilletti suddenly
threw off his hermit-garb, and with it the name of
Fra Paolo, given him by the people in his penitential
retreat. He betook himself to the mountains near
Mola da Gaeta, extending his depredations to the
confines of Naples and Rome; and, while pursuing the
same career more openly, and in a wider field of
operations, the ecclesiastical court offered an immense
reward for his head, and despatched at the same time
a captain of police, with forty men, the better to effect
its object. Anticipating their approach, Fra Paolo,
having given directions to his partizans, assumed the
disguise of an aged shepherd, and went boldly to give
his enemies the meeting, with the hope of betraying
them into the hands of his exiled colleagues lying in
wait to fall upon them.
Taking up his quarters at a neighbouring inn, he
presented himself to the police on their arrival, as
having just come from the mountains; and, finding
the party much stronger than he had expected, he
changed his design, and informed the captain that he

78 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
would discover for him the abode of the whole band
of exiles, whom he represented as being most formi
dable, and lying in ambush to receive him. The
captain, without any suspicion, accepted the proposal,
and, giving into the snare, invited the feigned shepherd
to take supper with him. Fra Paolo then retired ; but,
instead of going to rest, he put four gold pieces into
the host's hands, and, bidding him inform the captain
that he whom he was in search of had paid for them
both, and that a leader of police ought to know his
man before he attempted to catch him, he hastened to
rejoin his friends. The confusion and alarm created
among the whole party on the delivery of this message
were such, that the captain could not prevail on them
to venture farther, from the dread of falling into the
fatal ambush said to be laid for them by the exiles.
He was thus compelled to abandon the expedition.
Soon afterwards, apprehending the result of leaguing
with some disaffected nobles of the kingdom, he
abandoned both the Neapolitan territories and those
of the church, and transferred the seat of his opera
tions to Florence. He had taken the precaution when
at Rome, as well as at Naples, to supply himself with
letters of recommendation from influential personages,
mostly obtained by bribing their secretaries, especially
those of the cardinals, and with them he confidently
presented himself at the court of the Grand Duke,
Ferdinand II. So well did he play his part, and such
was his plausibility and address, in making himself
both useful and agreeable, that he was soon taken

MOLA DA GAETA. 79
nto the ducal service ; nor was he less a favourite with
the ministers and ladies of the Florentine court.
Unfortunately Fra Paolo knew better how to acquire
than to merit good fortune; and he had no sooner
succeeded in his object than his natural arrogance and
love of intrigue armed against him some of the chief
personages in Florence, whose faults or foibles he was
imprudent enough to ridicule in the presence of the duke
and his friends. The offence was mortal ; his foot
steps were dogged ; and one day, as he was walking
alone, in the vicinity of San Niccolo, he received the
blow of a stiletto in the back, which had very nearly
proved fatal. Sensible of the extreme peril he had
thus incurred, and severely admonished at the same
time by the duke, he no longer boasted his exploits ; he
gave up his correspondence with foreigners and exiles ;
and, apparently devoting himself with passion to liter
ature, he printed a volume of his poems, dedicated to
the charming Margherita Costa, his favourite, and a
most accomplished woman.
In 1643, the Grand Duke and the Collegati having
taken up arms against the Barberini, the bandit-priest
was made captain of a company of Venturieri, drawn
for the most part from the kingdom of Naples and
the territories of the church, and equipped solely at
our hero's expense. With this force he was com
manded to keep possession of some posts in the
neighbourhood of Siena, in which he acquitted himself
not only to the general's satisfaction, but with con
siderable credit. On the return of peace, in the
subsequent year, Fra Paolo resumed his literary pur-

80 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
suits, by means of which he made himself favourably
known to the Barberini, offering to devote his talents
to the service of the family, and supplicating the
cardinal to grant him absolution of all his former sins,
with liberty, after adopting an irreproachable life,
to re-visit the city of Rome. His request, seconded
by supposititious letters from different princes, was
easily granted, upon obtaining which, he solicited his
congee at the hands of the Grand Duke of Tuscany.
This at first was denied him, his patron pointing out
to him the danger he would incur, and the certain
advantages he would sacrifice ; but, still persisting in
his solicitations, under plea of returning to his native
place, they were at length complied with.
On his arrival at Rome, he assumed the ecclesiastical
habit — a habit quite indispensable to those who wished
to figure in the papal capital, and in no long time
began to distinguish himself in a manner which drew
a wide line between his present and his former cha
racter, and raised him to honours that made it difficult
to recognize him. Yet this rapid career, combined
with other circumstances of a suspicious nature,
attracted the curiosity of the people and the attention
of the holy court. Doubts and suspicions were soon
after turned into certainty ; when, having appeared
with striking eclat for a period of some months, he
withdrew from ecclesiastical life with as much speed
as he had entered upon it, and, resuming his military
accoutrements, once more entered the duchy of Tus
cany at the head of a small troop. On reaching
Florence he understood that the duke was then re-

MOLA DA GAETA.

siding at his villa Ambrogiana, on which he instantly
put spurs to his horse, and, alighting at the palace-gate,
required to be admitted to an immediate interview.
This, the master of the ceremonies, a cautious man,
prudently refused, stating that the Grand Duke would,
on the morrow, hold an audience at Florence ; and
the new soldier was compelled reluctantly to retrace his
steps, and await the hour assigned at the palace.
It never came : the Grand Duke, hearing of Fra
Paolo's strange importunity to be admitted, without
stating his object, took the alarm ; and gave orders for
him to be instantly arrested. On the following morning,
therefore, the captain of the guard, having meantime
ascertained that the stranger had appointed to go to
the shop of a certain banderajo,* situated in the district
of Calimaruzza, and having disposed his attendants
at different spots, saluted our hero just as he was
about to enter, and, bidding him good day, laid his
hand on him, informing him that he was the duke's
prisoner. At the same moment his soldiers advanced
with levelled pieces, surrounding him on every side,
while the passengers and inhabitants hurried in terror
from the spot. Casting one glance around him, to
ascertain if any of his own party witnessed his capture,
he quietly gave up his sword to the chief of the police,
finding it would be utterly useless to contend against
such fearful odds. This (for him) disastrous event,
occurred in November, 1644, and when he was in the
forty-ninth year of his age.
* A furnisher of the pomp and pride of war.
G

82 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Having thus suddenly fallen from his loftiest hopes,
into the hands of judicial power, the unhappy Fra Paolo
found his lot still farther aggravated by being ordered
into solitary confinement. On first recovering from
the shock, he solicited the use of a pen and ink from
his gaoler; and these were not refused him. He wrote
to some of his most influential connexions, beseeching
them to put some engine to work, in order to induce
the duke to state his reasons for confining him ; and,
if possible, to set him at liberty. This was attended
with no success ; to every application made to him
the uniform reply of the duke was, that he was fully
acquainted with the extent of his prisoner's delin
quencies, and knew what he was about ; — an answer
which closed the door to all farther intercession in
his favour. Finding himself thus confined to a living
tomb, after making some fruitless efforts to alleviate his
sufferings, the intellects of the unhappy prisoner grew
disordered ; he furiously attacked his keepers, and on
partial recovery felt himself heavily ironed, and secured
with redoubled vigilance. His aliment consisted of
the coarsest food which he procured with four livres the
day ; a sum out of which he contrived to save suffi
cient to hire an attendant whom, at length, he bribed
to procure him some files. By such means he suc
ceeded in liberating himself from his chains. He was
already also in the act of making his way through the
walls, when an alarm was given ; he was again secured,
and exposed to severer privations than before. A
stone pillar to which was attached an immense chain,
was fixed deeply in the earth, and to this the wretched

MOLA DA GAETA. 83
Fra Paolo was bound by an iron collar, while other
irons were replaced upon his feet.
As time elapsed, the grief and rage by which he
had been before instigated, became more calm; hope
yet whispered the possibility of escape, and the desire
of vengeance, serving as a subject on which to brood,
kept him from sinking into utter idiocy and raving.
He succeeded so far as to bribe one of his attendants,
by splendid offers, to convey letters for him to his
former associates, acquainting them with his dreadful
condition, and beseeching them to lose no time in
devising some plan for his deliverance from the tortures
he endured. Moved by this appeal from their old
commander, they conceived it touched their honour to
make the attempt ; — each swore to stand by their
leader and one another, and peril their lives for his.
On the last day of June, twenty-five of the number
agreed to enter Florence ; and, the less to excite
suspicion, they were to go separately, and as private
individuals, each intent on his own business. At
midnight they were to meet at an appointed spot, and
proceed rapidly, joined by their brethren, towards the
gates of the prison. Armed from head to foot, they
were to seize on the sentinel; — wrench from the gaoler
the keys under penalty of his life ; and, bursting into
the prison, to rescue their chief from his terrific doom;
and at the same time give freedom to the whole of the
unhappy inmates of the place. By these they were to
be supported in their retreat to one of the gates of the
city, where a larger force was in readiness to give
them support.
g 2

84 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Even had this wild and daring enterprise failed in
the object for which it was intended, it must, never
theless,, have excited the most serious alarm among
the citizens, at the dead hour of night, — sunk in
slumber, and wholly unprepared for an invasion of the
kind. They were spared the trial by the act of a renegade
to his honour and his band, who betrayed the plot to
the government. Precautions were adopted ; the un
happy prisoner was consigned, if possible, to still
harder duresse ; he was prohibited the use of pen and
paper, and condemned to the lowest felon's lot. The
spirit of Fra Paolo was no longer proof against such
a fatal reverse ; he at first attempted to starve himself
to death ; — to beat his head against the walls of his
prison ; — but escape, even on these terms, was denied
him; he was ordered to be chained down as a madman,
and to be fed. — He yet persevered, he succeeded in
setting fire to his dungeon, but it was extinguished,
and thenceforth only iron utensils were placed within
his reach. At length, the freedom which man and
his own efforts denied him, age and wearied nature,
bestowed ; exhausted by violent passion, by long suf
fering, and voluntary fast, Fra Paolo closed his strange
misguided career, — but not till he had reached the
eighty-first year of his age.
He had undergone three and thirty years of solitary
confinement ; and, doubtless, he died as he had lived,
a hater and despiser of princes, as he might well be, —
if not a contemner of all laws, whether human or
divine. The crimes committed in his youth had been
abandoned, if not deplored, and were fearfully ex-

MOLA DA GAETA. 85
piated by long years of suffering and sorrow. The
cause of his imprisonment was never made known;
but, most probably, it consisted in the wounded pride
or false alarm of the duke, who, having detected the
imposition practised upon him, attempted rather to
satiate his vengeance than to provide for his safety ;
inasmuch as, had his prisoner succeeded in escaping,
he would, it is natural to suppose, have retaliated
upon his ungenerous oppressor.
Similar in many points of character, and still more
like in the evil fortune which pursued him, was Michael
Angelo Amerigi, called Caravaggio, who closed his
strange and chequered career, on his return from
Naples to Rome, most probably in the vicinity of
Mola da Gaeta, when he made the attempt to set
sail from an adjacent port. He first rose into repute
as a painter, by the vigour and buoyancy of his own
genius, having commenced by holding the pallets and
grinding the colours for other artists. He made him
self a name among that splendid galaxy of art which
shed lustre on the sixteenth century ; but hardly had he
began to acquire celebrity by the singular productions
of his pencil, than the fierce, arrogant, and satirical
turn of mind to which he fell a martyr, began to
display itself. Such was his devotion to his art, in
early life, that he was accustomed to take his meal,
without moving from his labours, on an old piece of
canvas that served for napkin and board. He was
fond of modelling, and used to call the mendicants
and other singular characters who sat to him as subjects,

86 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL,
his collection of antiques. When a friend was
once pointing out to him some splendid Grecian
statues, " Yes," he replied, " but you shall see how
naturehas given me specimens of the beautiful antique;"
and sketched upon the spot a lovely gipsy girl who
happened to be passing along the street. It was thus
the lazzaroni and other of the lower orders supplied
him with materials for his studies; and from this cause,
it is said, there is frequently wanting in his groups
that elegant and classic air in the heads, a fault which
more than once led to the expulsion of his works
from the interior of palaces and churches.
Owing to his fiery temperament, Caravaggio made
few friends ; he became miserable and unsociable ;
and usually took up his quarters at a tavern. One
day, not having wherewithal to make up his small
account, he painted a new sign-board for the landlord,
and this was subsequently sold for a considerable sum.
In a sudden and fierce dispute which arose between
him and another artist, who persisted in loading him
with abusive epithets, Caravaggio drew his sword to
attack him, and, in the very act, ran it through the
body of another person who hastened to separate them.
In this emergency he sought an asylum in the house
of the Marchese Giustiniani, who induced by the re
presentations he made of the affair, not only granted
him his protection, but obtained for him a pardon. The
first step he took, on receiving this favour, was to
challenge the man who had originally insulted him,
and who replied to it by stating that he was a gen-

MOLA DA GAETA. 87
tleman, and a cavalier, who never consented to draw
his sword except against his equals.
Stung to the quick by this contemptuous treatment,
Caravaggio abandoned his country, and set out on his
voyage to Malta, with a view of acquiring for him
self the dignity of knighthood, of which his hated
rival had so much boasted. His expedition, in this
respect, was crowned with success ; he obtained the
regard of the grand-master, who created him a
chevalier of the ancient order of Knights of Malta,
gave him two slaves to attend him, and made him a
present of a grand chain of gold. He was not
destined, however, ever more to confront his insulting
foe. The natural temperament of the artist was not
corrected by this sudden influx of prosperity and
honour ; he bore himself so haughtily as to give umbrage
to a knight-commander, of illustrious family residing
in the place, the result of which was unfortunate to
the weaker party, and ended in his being thrown into
prison. Although strictly guarded, Caravaggio did not
allow his courage to droop ; and one night, with
infinite difficulty, he contrived to make his escape.
He instantly set sail, and sought refuge for a period
in Sicily ; but not considering himself in a state of
safety in those parts, he took ship for Naples, with
the intention of making application in that city, to
obtain the pardon, if not to be restored to the favour of
the grand-master of Malta. But scarcely had he set
foot in that city when he was attacked and wounded
in the face by a party of armed men ; and in the idea

88 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
they had been despatched to slay or imprison him, he
fled, and took refuge on board a felucca, with the view
of reaching Rome. He had not, however proceeded
far on his course, when, having stopped in one of the
adjacent ports, a party of Spanish soldiers arrested
and threw him into prison, in mistake for another ca
valier of whom they were in pursuit. At length,
having made himself understood, he ran towards the
port to rejoin his vessel, on board of which were the
whole of his effects : — it was no longer there, having
just set sail without him. Overwhelmed by the oc
currence of so many disasters, in quick succession, he
set out on foot along the coast, unprovided either with
money or with food. Anxious, excited, and worn out
with fatigue, his intellects became disordered , and with
out a friend or hope of any kind to cheer his fainting
spirit, wandering under a scorching sun till he sank, he
perished miserably on his way.
As some relief to these sombre features of Italian
character, I shall give a sketch of a different kind
from the lives of their contemporaries, Bernardo Fio-
riti and Pietro Lauri. Both were artists of some re
pute, and of a lively as well as eccentric turn of mind.
Fioriti, too, was somewhat credulous, which offered
his friend Lauri opportunities of amusing himself at
his expense. Having one evening supped with a num
ber of their acquaintance, and kept up their convi
viality far into the morning, it was agreed they should
none of them retire home, but continue to spend the
remainder of the time in the house of Lauri, who had
provided beds for the party. He, when the others

MOLA DA GAETA. 89
were wrapped in slumber, rose quietly from his couch,
and, taking the garments of Fioriti, so refitted them
as to detract considerably from their former size. After
replacing them he stole to his own couch, and began
to utter the most alarming and discordant cries. His
friends ran to his assistance : he told them he was in
horrible pain, and dreadfully swollen, in consequence,
he supposed, of his having taken poison. " It is the
mushrooms!" everyone cried. " What shall we all
do !" Fioriti, meantime, hearing the uproar, began
to hurry on his clothes, and, finding them much too
strait for him, he too called out that he was dreadfully
swollen — that he felt strange pains coming on him,
and entreated for the love of heaven that some one
would find an antidote, or run for a doctor. While
he went on, bewailing himself as a dead man, Lauri
removed the anxiety of his other friends by declaring
the truth ; and the attention of all was now directed
towards the unfortunate Fioriti. Some of them, ob
serving that all human aid was vain, asked him if he
would like to see a priest. " No, no ! an antidote —
a doctor!" he cried, " I am not yet past hope — I think
I am not!" His friends sought to console him, and
insisted upon his drinking a large quantity of wine,
which they declared was the best antidote that could
be found. The patient did not spare the bottle ; and
such, at length, was its effect, that he forgot the des
perate condition he was in, and fell into a profound
slumber. He was carried to his chamber — his habili
ments were restored to their original width ; in due
time he awoke, and, feeling the size of his stomach, he

90 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
once more cast a wistful eye at his clothes, and again
tried to sleep.
At length, summoning his utmost resolution, he tried
on his garments, and, finding they fitted, shouted out
in delight that he was cured, and that the wine had
wrought miracles in his behalf. Such was in fact his
gratitude, that he betook himself at once to his bottle,
embraced his friend Lauri as the best physician in the
world, and, being a sculptor, vowed that he would com
memorate the event by a statue to him. Whenever any
of his acquaintance complained, he declared that their
illness was owing to not drinking enough of wine ; that
he had found it to be a specific against all maladies —
in particular vegetable poisons. Unfortunately Fioriti
stuck so closely to his own grand specific that he
shortly became a confirmed tipler ; Lauri began to
feel some qualms of conscience, and, taking counsel
with his friends, they resolved to retrace their steps,
and, if possible, enable him to get the better of so
dangerous a habit.
With this laudable object, one day, when they were
all in a most sociable mood, at a certain tavern cele
brated for the best Italian wines, the wily painter had
the address to extract the key of Fioriti's own house
out of his pocket. He passed it forthwith to a number
of his friends, who were instructed in the plot, and
who instantly adjourned to the house of the sculptor.
There they proceeded to fix up a public signboard over
the door ; — they placed a number of long tables in the
court ; — they, in fact, made it an open house, with the
entire air and appearance of an inn.

MOLA DA GAETA. 91
Fioriti, meanwhile, finding nearly all his friends had
left him, and having as much of his favourite antidote
as he could well carry, bethought him at last of re
tiring home ; but, on reaching the spot, he was not a
little puzzled what to think, and how to act ; for there
he beheld the original residence metamorphosed, and
fully occupied, inside and out, by a party of noisy,
drinking, good fellows. Stopping at some distance he
gazed upon the place in a thrill of wonder and admi
ration : he could not credit his own senses. " I am
wrong," he cried aloud, " and yet this is assuredly the
street, only it is not my house. There is our parish
church ! there is the barber's shop ! and that is my . .
(going a little nearer) ; — no ! it is not my house. How
the d  1 is this, and where am I ? Is it I myself, or
is it my house, that is changed ; yet how changed into
a tavern ?" While thus logically settling the point,
two friends of Lauri made their appearance, as if by
chance, and inquired what he was doing standing by
himself and star-gazing at that hour in the street.
" Oh dear !" he exclaimed, " I am strangely affected ;
help me, my friends, to recover myself, for I no longer
know myself or my house!" "That is the effect of
drinking," replied the others ; " you have lost your
memory, and you will soon lose your senses, if you per
sist in such a course. Try to compose yourself, and
come home with us, and we will try what can be done
for you to dissipate this strange illusion." The poor
sculptor obeyed, thinking his house possessed by a le
gion of devils, and put himself under the direction of
his humane friends. He was no sooner gone than

92 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
every thing resumed its former appearance ; — his
friends accompanied him home — and he would fre
quently relate, with religious gravity, how miraculously
he was cured of the crime of drinking.

THE GARIGLIANO.

Quanti alpestri sentier, quanti palustri
Narrerd io, di morte e sangue pieni,
PeT variar de regni e stati illustri. MACCHIAVELLI.

Proceeding along the Appian Way for some miles
from Mola, the country opens into wider views ; it
assumes fresh beauty and luxuriance ; the wild fig-
tree and the myrtle throw their shade over the ruined
tombs that skirt the path, and the wild aloes are seen
shooting up their huge stems from the marshy low
grounds. The campagna round becomes richer and
better cultivated, yet scarcely a dwelling meets the
eye. The rural population retire to a distance from
the noxious exhalations which prevail in this region,
taking up their nightly residence nearer the Appen-
nines, at such little towns as Traietto and Trimenzo,
situated more pleasantly on an extensive slope of green
hill, and at Castel Onorato, where they make a traffic
even of its natural production of vipers.
From this hill the remains of the old Minturnian
aqueduct stretch across the plain, till approaching the
ruins of an amphitheatre which stand in lonely ma
jesty near the banks of the Garigliano. These most
probably belonged to the ancient town of Minturna,

94 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
of which hardly another relic appears, and are distant
about six miles from the town of Mola. Here, as at
other places, like the departed Luna, Populonia, Cumse,
and Baise, the traveller in vain tracks the solitary
wild, or cultivated field, for the wrecks of the noble
Minturna. " Etiam perifire ruinse," is fast becoming
its appropriate epitaph, like the fuit Ilium of older
days, " which, though it be travellers' loss," as it has
been quaintly observed, " yet it is man's comfort that
towns do die as well as he." For this reason Rutilius
says : Non indignemur mortalia corpora solvi ;
Cernimus exemplis oppida posse mori.
Approaching the ferry, you behold a tower based on
the marble tomb of an ancient Decurio. This proud
Roman, as is justly remarked, appears from the in
scription to have been insatiable even in death, and to
have endowed, like other great men, some sepulchral
banquet, such as an annual or a decennial supper.
Here the Liris, the old name for the Garigliano, as it
daily more and more encroaches on its soft banks, is
still biting silently into the plain :
"  Rura qua? Liris quieta
Mordet aqua, taciturnis amnis." -Hor.
"  those rich fields where Liris runs

With quiet streams and wanton play."
" We saw," says Mr. Forsyth, " large herds of buffa
loes grazing on the Minturnian marshes, from the Ga
rigliano on to the Massic hills. We stopped at St.

THE GA11IGLIAN0. 95
Agatha, in hopes of drinking some real Falernian, but
we found this degenerated wine far inferior to the
Formian which we had drunk at Mola. Indeed the
Falernian was naturally harsh ; it required more age
than modern Italians allow to any wine, and, though
Martial calls it the Immortal, it soon lost that cele
brity which it owed principally to the Augustan poets.
We then passed from the rude Appennines into the
luxuriant Campagna, and drove too rapidly through
a succession of beauties which elude description. We
stopped but a short time on the parades of Capua and
in the markets of Aversa, the translated descendants
of old Capua and Atella."
In former times the river Liris, it is said, was made
the boundary of Latium, the same which is now de
nominated the Campagna di Roma ; and the entire
region, stretching from the Liris to the extreme verge
of Calabria, would seem, during the reign of Nero, to
have been known as Magna Grcecia. After crossing
the Garigliano on a bridge of boats, there, is a road
conducting to St. Agatha, agreeably situated near
Jessa, a small town, formerly called Lemiessa. Leading
from St. Agatha is a delightful walk, by which you
proceed over a magnificent bridge, near which are to
be observed a number of curious antiquities. The dis
tance from hence to Capua is about sixteen miles,
through an improving region of luxuriant vineyards
and corn-fields. In the meadows which border the
Garigliano, consisting formerly of the fens of Minturna,
the vanquished Marius is known to have concealed
himself; and there, to use the words of an old traveller,

96 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
"with his stern looks and manly voice, saying, Darest
thou kill Caius Marius ? so terrified the slave that was
sent thither to kill him, that he let him escape to his
ship, and so into Africk. He may speak big that
speaks for his life, and any looks become a man when
he looks well to himself in dangers. While we rode
along these meadows we saw before us the mountain
of Garo, anciently called Mons Massicus, famous for
excellent wines, as well as the country thereabout,
which was called Ager Falernus, so famed by poets for
its vinum Falernum. Passing thus along, we came at
night to St. Agathas, and the next morning betimes
we entered into Campania Felix, so surnamed because
of its admirable air, wonderful plenty of corn and
wine, and pleasant prospects on all sides, which makes
an ancient call it Certamen Cereris et Bacchi, the
strife of Ceres and Bacchus. It was this country
which, with its delights, broke Hannibal's army, which
neither snow could cool, nor Alps stop, nor Romans
vanquish, saith Seneca. Indeed, the pleasantness of
the country made us full mends for all the ill way we
had before : Nature having set that scurvy way there,
on purpose that we might like her favourite Campania
the better after it. I call this country Nature's fa
vourite, in imitation of Pliny, who calls it Opus
gaudontis Natures, that is, a country made by Nature
when she was in a good humour. It is a heathen that
speaks, and you must pardon him."
The approach to Capua, on this side, is beautiful
and picturesque ; but the modern town is two miles'
distance from the place where old Capua stood — a city

THE GAKIGLIANO. 97
of such importance as to rank second or third even in
the plenitude of Roman power, and, like Carthage, to
challenge competition with the mistress of the world.
It demanded, indeed, to be treated more like an equal
than a subject, insisting for some time that one of the
annual consuls should always reside there. But the
Capua of old, with its glory and its luxury, has pe
rished, and its successor can boast little title to notice
or distinction, if we except the daring resolution of
some of its females, on occasion of one of the numerous
French invasions. Having held out with more ob
stinacy than was expected, the commander gave some
hours' pillage to the soldiery, when several young and
beautiful women, who found their last sanctuary in
vaded, threw themselves with desperation into the river
Volturno, to rescue themselves from dishonour.
The banks of the Garigliano are memorable for
having witnessed the severe struggle between the French
and Spaniards in the year 1503, in which Piero de'
Medici, the eldest son of the celebrated Lorenzo, pe
rished after the battle, in his attempt to cross the river.
After many fruitless attempts upon the Spanish coast,
the commanders of the French fleet had been obliged
to take refuge in Marseilles. At the same period an
event occurred which exhibits the conduct of the
contending monarchs in a singular point of view. A
negociation was entered into between them for the
restoration of peace ; and the mediator to whom they
agreed to appeal for the reconciliation of their differ
ences was Federigo, the exiled King of Naples, the
partition of whose dominions had given rise to the

98 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
war. In the course of these discussions Federigo was
alternately flattered by both parties with the hopes of
being restored to his crown ; and so far had he obtained
the favour of Anne of Bretagne, the queen of Louis XII.,
that she earnestly entreated the king to concur in this
measure. It is not, however, to be supposed that it
was the intention of either of the contending mon-
archs to perform such an act of disinterested justice;
on the contrary, the pretext of appealing to the de
cision of Federigo was probably only employed by
them for the purpose of obtaining from each other
more advantageous terms.
The Duke de la Tremouille having united his troops
with those of his countrymen at Gaeta, and being
reinforced by the Marquis of Mantua, who had now
entered into the service of the French, possesse dhim-
self of the duchy of Trajetto, and the district of Fondi,
as far as the river Garigliano. He was, however, soon
opposed by Gonsalvo, who had been joined by Barto-
lommeo d' Alviano, at the head of a considerable body
of troops. The French, disadvantageously posted on
the marshy banks of the river, had thrown a bridge
over it, intending to proceed by the speediest route to
Naples; but Gonsalvo, having arrived at San Ger-
mano, was induced, by the remonstrances of D' Alvi
ano, to attack them before they could effect their
passage. On the night of the 28th of December, 1503,*
the Spaniards formed another bridge at Suio, about
four miles above the French camp, over which Gonsalvo,
with a considerable part of his army, secretly passed
* Muratori ; and the Life and Pontificate of Leo X., vol. ii. p. 25, ct seq.

THE GARIGLIANO. 99
the river. On the following morning the French were
suddenly attacked by D'Alviano, who carried the
bridge which they had erected ; and, when the en
gagement became general, Gonsalvo, taking the
French in the rear, routed them with immense slaugh
ter, and pursued them as far as Gaeta, which place he
soon afterwards reduced.
" This day," says the historian, " terminated the
unfortunate life of Piero de' Medici, who had engaged
in the service of the French, and taken a principal
part in the action ; but, finding all hopes of assistance
frustrated, and being desirous of rendering his friends
all the assistance in his power, he embarked on board
a galley, with several other persons of rank, intending
to convey to Gaeta four pieces of artillery, which he
had prevented from falling into the hands of the con
querors. The weight of these pieces, and probably the
number of passengers who endeavoured to avail them
selves of this opportunity to effect their escape, occa
sioned the vessel to founder; and it was not until
several days afterwards that the body of Piero was
recovered from the stream.
" In the days of his gaiety, and amidst the delights
of Florence, Piero had assumed a device, intended to
characterize his temper and pursuits, for which Poli-
tiano had supplied him with an appropriate motto.
The device represented green branches, interwoven
together, and placed in the midst of flames, and the
motto was ' In viridi teneras exurit ilamma medullas.' "
II 2

100 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
His misfortunes or his misconduct soon provided
him with other and more serious occupations ; and ten
years of exile and disappointment consumed the vigour
of a life which had opened with the most favourable
prospects. In the year 1552, Cosmo I., Grand Duke
of Tuscany, erected to the memory of his kinsman a
splendid monument at Monte Casino, with an in
scription, commemorating, not indeed his virtues, nor
his talents, but his high family connexions, and his
untimely death.
After a series of calamities of more than ten years'
continuance, during which there was hardly any part
of Italy that had not severely suffered from the effects
of pestilence, of famine, and of war, some indications
appeared of happier times. The pretensions of Louis
XII. to the kingdom of Naples had received an ef
fectual check by the defeat of his troops on the Ga
rigliano ; and, although the remains of his army had
effected a retreat to Gaeta, yet all that remained for
them was to obtain a capitulation on such terms as
should secure for them their liberty and their arms.
These terms were readily conceded by Gonsalvo, who
permitted his humiliated adversaries to march out from
Gaeta with military honours and to carry off their
effects, on condition that they should return to France,
either by land or sea, of which he offered them the
choice. Both these courses were adopted, and in both
the French soldiery were equally unfortunate. Those
who embarked at Gaeta and Naples perished for the
most part by hurricanes, either in their passage or on
their native coasts ; whilst those who attempted to

THE GARIGLIANO. 101
return by land fell a sacrifice to sickness, cold, hunger,
and fatigue, insomuch that the road was strewed with
their dead bodies.
In his Life of Gonsalvo, the great captain whose
victory over the French we have already recorded, the
historian, Brantome, breaks out into the following pa
triotic lamentation : " Alas ! I have seen those very
places; I have even been on the Garigliano. It was
at sun-set, when more than at any other time of the
day the shades and manes began to appear like ghosts :
the noble souls of our brave French who expired
there seemed to rise from the earth to speak to me,
and, as it were, answered me, talking of their battles
and their glorious death."
This capitulation was speedily followed by a treaty
between the contending monarchs, by which it was
agreed that Ferdinand, who had survived his queen
Isabella, and who, on account of his dissensions with
his son-in-law the Archduke Philip, was earnestly
desirous of male offspring, should marry the young
and beautiful Germaine de Foix, niece of Louis XII.,
who should bring with her, as her dower, all such
parts of the kingdom of Naples as had been allotted
to the French monarch ; and, in return for these fa
vours, Ferdinand agreed to pay to Louis XII. one
million of gold ducats, by annual payments of one
hundred thousand ducats, as an indemnity for his
expenses in the Neapolitan war. With these favour
able indications of returning tranquillity, other cir
cumstances concurred. The power of the Borgia
family had been suddenly annihilated by the death of

102

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

Alexander VI., and the consequent imprisonment and
exile of Caesar Borgia ; whilst the death of Piero de'
Medici seemed to promise repose to the agitated repub
lic of Florence. Many of the principal Italian leaders,
or Condottieri, had perished in these contests ; others
had been stripped of their possessions, and so far re
duced as to be no longer able to follow the trade of
blood ; whilst the people, wearied and exhausted by a
continual change of masters, by unavailing carnage,
by incessant alarms, exorbitant exactions, and all the
consequences of prolonged hostilities, sighed for that
peace which they ought to have commanded, and
which alone could remedy those evils of which they
had so long been the victims.
Nearly about the same period as the death of Piero
de' Medici there was committed an act of such atrocious
and almost diabolical revenge as to startle even the
courts of Italy, accustomed as they had been both to
private and public crimes and horrors that make the
blood run cold. This tragic event occurred in the
family of Este, and in the reign of the Duke Al
fonso I., an event which endangered his safety, and
destroyed or interrupted his domestic tranquillity. Be
sides his two sons, of whom Ippolito, the younger, had
been raised to the dignity of a cardinal, the late duke
had left by his wife Leonora, daughter of Ferdinand I.,
of Naples, an illegitimate son, called Don Giulio. At
tracted by the beauty of a lady of Ferrara, to whom
they were distantly related, the cardinal and Don
Giulio became rivals in her affections, and the lady
herself, in confessing to Ippolito her partiality to his

THE GARIGLIANO. 103
brother, dwelt with apparent pleasure on the extraor
dinary beauty of his eyes. The exasperated ecclesi
astic silently vowed revenge; and, availing himself of
an opportunity whilst he was engaged with Don Giulio
in the chase, he surrounded him with a band of assas
sins, and, compelling him to dismount, with a diabo
lical pleasure saw them deprive him of the organs of
sight. The moderation or negligence of Alfonso, in
suffering this atrocious deed to remain unpunished,
excited the resentment, not only of Don Giulio, but of
his brother Ferdinand, who, uniting together, endea
voured, by secret treachery, to deprive Alfonso at once
of his honours and his life. Their purposes were dis
covered ; and, after having confessed their crime, they
were both condemned to die. The paternal kindness
of Alfonso was not, however, wholly extinguished, and,
at the moment when the axe was suspended over them,
he transmuted their punishment for that of perpetual
imprisonment. In this state Ferdinand remained till
the time of his death in 1540, whilst Giulio, at the ex
piration of fifty-four years of captivity, was once more
restored to liberty.
These events, which throw a gloom over the family
lustre of the house of Este, and mark the character of
the cardinal with an indelible stain, are distinctly,
though delicately, adverted to i n the celebrated poem
of Ariosto.* * Life and Pontificate of Leo X., vol. ii. p. 20, 2r, 36,37, &c.

CASTEL GANDOLFO.
Gia il dotto e il ricco ed it patrizio vulgo,
Decoro e mente al bel Italo regno,
Nelle adulate reggie ha sepoltura,
Gia vivo e i stemmi unica laude. Foscolo.
Agreeably situated on the summit of a hill, with
the beautiful Lago Castello and the woods on one side,
and a view of the Campagna and Rome itself on the
other, it is no way surprising that the popes should
have selected this spot as their country residence
during the summer months. From the castle there is
a delightful walk which leads down to the lake of
Albano, the banks of which present to the eye two
grottos, or Nymphjea, conjectured to have been first
formed by Domitian, who is known to have chiefly
resided at Albano previous to his succession to the
empire. The vicinity of this classical spot adds to its
other amenities, situated, as it is, between Castel Gan-
dolfo and Ariccia ; and occupying the site of Pom-
pey's Villa, called Albanum Pompeii, while near it are
some evident remains of ancient baths. In the vicinity,
also, are considerable relics of an amphitheatre, a
reservoir, and a Prsetorian camp, most probably the
work of Domitian. The object here, however, which
most deserves attention, is the Museum belonging
to Signor Carnevali, which contains a number of

CASTEL GANDOLFO. 105
sepulchral monuments discovered under a bed of lava,
near Alba Longa, the ancient capital of Latium. The
shape of these singular monuments is that of a vase ;
and within each of the vases was found a small ciner
ary urn of Terra Cotta, containing ashes and bones,
made, as is conjectured, in the precise shape of the
huts of the aborigines of the spot. Each cinerary
urn exhibits unknown characters ; and these monu
ments have likewise doors, with curious fastenings.
The cinerary urn was placed in the centre of each
monument, and encircled with small Terra Cotta ves
sels (one to hold the sop for Cerberus, others for the
purifying water, wine, oil, bread, incense, &c.) ; a
lamp like those of pottery now used in cottages; a
stile passed through a canceller; knives, and a lance.*
The depth of the Lago Castello near Palazzola,
the site of Alba Longa, is calculated at four hundred
and eighty feet ; and its subterranean outlet, called the
Emissario, is one of the most extraordinary works of
the ancient Romans, and was made during the siege of
Veii, in obedience to the Delphic oracle. It is car
ried about a mile under the hill of Albano to the plain,
and measures in breadth between five and six palmi,
and in height from nine to ten. It appears that, after
tracing the line of this canal above ground, pits were
sunk at certain distances from each other ; by which
means several labourers were let down, and enabled to
work at the same time ; so that the canal was com
pleted in the course of one year, — that of Rome 335.
Pits of a similar description seem to have accelerated
¦ Mrs. Starke. Environs of Rome, &c. ; Travels in Europe.

106 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Camillus's admission into the citadel of Veii. The
entry to the canal from the lake, and its issue in the
plain, are wonderful specimens of the solidity of
Etruscan architecture ; and the interior part of this
ancient tunnel seems perfect as when first completed.
Another path, to the left of Castel Gandolfo, leads
back to Albano ; and the ilexes, which shade this walk,
are some of the largest in Italy. Outside of the gate
of Albano, leading to Ariccia, is an ancient tomb, on
the left, called that of the Curiatii ; though there does
not seem to be any ground for this assertion, as monu
ments were erected to their memory near the Fossae
Cluilice, where they fell. It appears to be very ancient,
and somewhat resembles that of Porsenna at Clusium,
described by Pliny.*
" We went up the woody hill of La Riccia," observes
Mr. Forsyth, " by traverses which brought Lavinium,
Laurentum, and the scene of half the iEneid, into view.
Near La Riccia was the retreat where Egeria took
charge of Hippolytus, not that where she met Numa,
for in Numa's reign Ariccia was distant and foreign
from Rome. Afterwards, indeed, when Rome spread
into the country, and encircled his Egerian grotto,
Ariccia, being then more solitary, was thought the
scene of their mysterious meetings ; and thus were
the two different retreats of the same nymph con
founded. La Riccia is a little removed from the site
of its ancestor ; yet, as it traces its origin from Ariccia,
and Ariccia from the first Sicily, it may, perhaps, dis
pute the palm of antiquity with Coi'tona itself."
' Travels in Europe. Remarks on Antiquities, &c. Foi>yth.

CASTEL GaNDOLFO. 107
In preference, however, to enlarging upon local
descriptions of the vicinity, a brief sketch of the papal
dominion in early times, with anecdotes of a few of
the more remarkable characters who wielded the thun
ders of the Vatican, may not, perhaps, be thought
inapplicable to the present subject. About the middle
of the 12th century, when Frederick Barbarossa had
received the crown of Italy from the Germanic diet,
the power of the popes had already become formidable.
Having entered Italy with a powerful army, plundered
and burnt the towns, the Emperor was crowned at
Rome by Pope Adrian IV. Lombardy, after the most
gallant defence, bled under a foreign scourge ; and the
death of Adrian, in 1159, only opened the way to
fresh humiliations. The holy conclave were equally
divided between two candidates ; both were declared
elected by their respective parties, and Rome beheld
two vicegerents claiming the patrimony of St. Peter ;
but Frederick decided upon Victor III.; and Alex
ander III. was constrained to seek an asylum in France,
though all Europe was nearly unanimous in his favour.
While one council rejected him, another still more
resolutely anathematized his rival. Alexander at length
hurled an excommunication at the emperor ; and
sought to conciliate the regard of the people, by de
claring himself in favour of the liberties of Italy. The
question at length seemed brought to a close by the
death of Victor, when Frederick caused a successor to be
immediately nominated ; but the violent opposition he
met with induced Alexander to hasten to Rome, where
he assumed the papal chair ; entered into an alliance

108 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
with the king of the two Sicilies ; and, rousing the
whole south of Italy, bade defiance to the emperor.
The latter, highly indignant, marched towards Rome,
and, approaching within sight, beheld the army of the
pontiff, assisted by the people, drawn up in battle
array. They awaited the onset of the German vete
rans, but were routed with immense slaughter ; and
the victor, entering Rome, laid siege to the Vatican.
Finding its defenders obstinate, he set fire to the ad
joining church of Santa Maria ; and Pope Alexander,
seized with a panic, made his escape by the Tiber.
Frederick received the submission of the Romans ;
but, having delayed his departure till autumn, a terrific
malady broke out among his troops, and princes, com
manders, and two thousand knights, were alike swept
away with the common soldiery. The emperor sought
to retreat ; traversed Tuscany and the Lunigiana ; but
his route was every where marked by the dying and the
dead. The conqueror of nations had the humiliation
to be opposed by the little town of Pontremoli ; and,
unable to make good his passage, was driven to seek
the Appennines by new and untraversed paths. Such,
however, was his unabated spirit, that, on arriving at
Pavia, he threw down his glove, challenging the whole
of the Italian states which had leagued against him
to meet him, and his skeleton army, in the open field.
Returning to raise fresh hordes of barbarians, the states
of Italy, during his absence, strengthened their alli
ance, and, in the year 1174, witnessed his return at the
head of a more terrific armament than before. He
descended upon Italy by Mont Cenis, burnt Susa, and

CASTEL GANDOLFO. 109
took Asti ; but a city of the League, with only its mud
walls, afterwards called in derision Alexandria della
Paglia, successfully opposed the greatest warrior of
Germany during four months. He was compelled by
the Lombard League to raise the siege, and retire to
recruit at Pavia.
After some fruitless negociations with the Lombards
and the pope, he marched with an additional army,
threatening to devastate Milan, as he had more than
once razed it to the ground. Fifteen miles from the
city, at Lignano, he was met by the Italians, who were
at first driven back ; but the battle being restored by
three hundred devoted youths, called the Company of
Death, ended in the entire rout of the emperor, who
only made his escape by concealing himself; and,
after many days, reached Pavia, where the empress
was mourning his fall. He now thought of peace ;
and both the hated Pope Alexander, and the van
quished monarch, repaired to Venice to adjust their
differences. There the latter declared he was ready to
submit to the church ; and a truce of six years was
finally agreed upon, during which the supposed rights,
on both sides, were to be suspended ; after which the
foot of the haughty pontiff was placed on the neck of
the most warlike monarch in Europe. After his death,
moreover, the hated pope became the guardian of his
son, Frederick II., and withheld from him, for several
years, both the imperial and the Lombard crowns.
The Guelfs, however, selected Otho IV., Duke of
Bavaria and Saxony — the Ghibellines, Philip I., Duke
of Swabia — as rival kings of the Romans. The struggle

110 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
between these princes continued till Philip fell a vic
tim to private revenge. Otho then marched into Italy ;
but, finding all his actions controlled by the pope, a
bitter enmity ensued, and the pontiff openly declared
for Frederick, heir of the Ghibelline house, still under
his tutelage ; and he was crowned King of the Romans
and Germans. The contest ended only with the life
of Otho, in 1218, from which period the parties of the
church and the empire merged in those of Guelf and
Ghibelline, and the former became declared enemies of
the pope. The minority of Frederick II. afforded
time for the free states to form a more regular govern
ment, till the elevation of Innocent III., who exercised
so great and marked an influence on the destinies of the
church. A Roman noble, he was elected to the papal
chair in his 37th year, and at once extended the sove
reignty of the church and the freedom of the people ;
at the same time instituting the two orders of Fran
ciscans and Dominicans, to the last of whom he gave
the terrific power of the inquisition, with orders to ex
tirpate heresv, and pursue the new sect of reformers
to utter destruction. He exhorted the French to root
out the Albigenses, sparing neither rank, age, nor sex ;
he commanded kings in a tone haughty as that of
Gregory VII. ; and, by his wily policy, triumphed over
the eastern church by conciliating the patriarch of
Constantinople. He caused the first crusade to be
preached in France ; and, with singular inconsistency,
organized a sort of republic in Rome, which he divided
into thirteen districts. He despatched delegates to
revive a spirit of liberty in the provinces under German

CASTEL GANDOLFO. Ill
subjection, and formed two powerful leagues with the
Guelfs, and the smaller cities of Italy. In becom
ing their ally, however, he also became their sovereign,
and attempted to extend the same system into Tus
cany. But it ended with his death ; and his succes
sors, Honorius III. and Gregory IX., supported his
enemy Frederick, exhorting him to enter on the crusade
against the Saracens. On the eve of departure he
was seized with illness ; and for this delay the pope
punished by excommunicating him. He even sent his
anathema after him into the Holy Land, and was highly
indignant at hearing that the emperor had entered the
holy city by treaty, instead of slaughtering the whole
of the infidels. The emperor, in requital, attacked
the states of the church on his return ; but the pope
being defended by the Lombard league, a peace was
concluded between the belligerents in the year 1230.
Frederick met with no better treatment from Inno
cent VI., who instigated the council of bishops to pro
nounce a sentence of condemnation against him ;
declaring that, for his crimes and iniquities, the Lord
had utterly rejected him, no longer permitting him to
be either an emperor or a king. His subjects were
released from their allegiance, and forbidden, under
penalty of excommunication, from obeying him in the
least matter whatever. They were invited to elect
another emperor, while the pope proceeded to appoint
a new monarch for the two Sicilies. On hearing
of this tremendous law, Frederick summoned a national
assembly, and, placing his golden crown upon his head,
he declared that he still wore and knew how to defend

112 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
it. But the conspiracy of the church and the monks
extended to his courtiers and most confidential attend
ants ; they plotted to carry him off, either by poison or
the dagger ; his private secretary and friend, Pietro
delle Vigne, being equally terrified, or corrupted, like
the rest. In his turn the emperor grew suspicious and
cruel, and sacrificed some of the most innocent along
with the guilty. He again attacked Italy and, after
waging war with the church and the Guelfs during
thirty years, he was at length compelled to yield to
circumstances ; and with a form and mind alike broken
down, a rebellious family, and faithless friends his
misfortunes appeared to affect his intellect. He was
disturbed by the denunciations of the pope, and the
dread of eternal punishment, with which he had been
so incessantly threatened. He offered to undergo
every humiliation which the church pleased to impose:
to make a pilgrimage, or lay down his life for the Holy
Land, so completely was his mind subdued.
About the year 1256, Alexander IV. preached a
crusade against that monster of tyrants, the ferocious
Ezzelin, Prince of Padua ; such was the dread he had
created in every neighbouring state. He was defeated
by the Lombards, and the family of Romano perished.
In the fourteenth century Innocent VI. united, with
some of the free states, in expelling the armies of the
Avventurieri, — in other words, of disciplined robbers,
which infested Italy from one end to the other. The
first company, headed by an Italian noble, attempted
to surprise Milan, but was itself defeated with great
slaughter at Parabaggio. One of the most terrible of

CASTEL GANDOLFO. 113
these miscreants was a German duke named Werner,
who carried before him, as a motto to his deeds, "The
enemy of God, of pity, and of mercy!" — one which
too many of his sanguinary and prolific race, even in
the present times, might, if equally sincere, as justly
appropriate to themselves. They devastated the entire
country ; they put their prisoners to death with horrible
tortures, and had even the temerity to aim at pos
sessing themselves of the wealth of Florence. But
the citizens closed the passes of the Appennines, armed
the peasantry, and gave the adventurers a decided
defeat at the passage of Scalella. They again re
turned to the charge with increased ferocity ; the
Florentines were advised to purchase their safety, but
to their honour they scorned the proposal, and, raising
an army entirely of Italians, commanded them to meet
the marauding nations on the frontiers. With the
cowardice of robbers, they retired before the Italians,
until they were fairly followed out of Tuscany without
striking a blow.
Towards the middle of the fifteenth century the cor
ruption of the church and the power of the popes, com
bined with foreign aggression, gradually broke down the
freedom of the noblest republics of Italy. The Lom
bards failed in their last struggle at Milan and that of
a Roman citizen, under the pontificate of Nicholas V.,
was equally unfortunate at Rome. Though a dis
tinguished patron of learning, this pope exacted the
utmost submission from his subjects. To this system,
Stefano Porcari, a noble, manfully opposed himself;

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and, taking advantage of a sudden insurrection, at
tempted to turn the tide in favour of liberty ; but it
ended in his own exile to Bologna. Yet he did not
despair ; he had for companions four hundred banished
citizens ; he persuaded them to league with him, and
the hour was appointed for them to meet in Rome ; he
hired also three hundred soldiers, and succeeded in
getting into the city. The entire body were prepared
to rush forth, and call the people to freedom — their
leader was in the act of addressing them for the last
time — when, in a moment, the place was surrounded,
the doors were forced, and before the liberators had
time to arm, they were seized, and consigned to their
fate. The citizens, on the ensuing morning, beheld
the body of Porcari, and nine of his companions, hang
ing from the walls of the castle of St. Angelo ; and
executions were continued, without intermission, till
the whole of the patriots had fallen ; the pontiff suc
ceeding in getting into his power even those who had
taken refuge in other states ; when the last hope of
Roman liberty was extinguished in their blood.
The politic and warlike Julius II. formed the design
of liberating Italy from foreign spoliation ; and in
1510 the French were simultaneously attacked in the
Milanese, in Genoa, at Modena, and at Verona. He
finally compelled the Sire de Chaumont to retire ;
and, during the greatest severity of the season, he
attacked the state of Mirandola under the French pro
tection ; and, leading on his pontifical troops in Jan
uary, 1511, entered the capital by storm. His troops

CASTEL GANDOLFO. 115
were not so successful under the Duke of Urbino, who
was defeated with loss at Casalecchio ; where, from
the circumstance of the French officers driving asses
loaded with booty from the field, it was, in derision,
termed the day of the ass-drivers. But Julius per
severed ; he roused Europe against the French; brought
the Venetians and a powerful Spanish army to march
against them, whose progress was checked only by the
celebrated Gaston de Foix. With the rapidity of a
Napoleon, he engaged and worsted both armies, retook
Brescia, and, following the armies of Spain and the
pope, compelled them to engage him once more near
the city of Ravenna. This memorable battle left the
field covered with 20,000 dead, among whom, though
victorious in death, lay the distinguished and chival
rous Gaston himself. His death did more to promote
the designs of the pontiff than all the exertions of his
allies, though the results could only be transitory ;
fresh hordes of robbers, poured in by the bandit mon-
archs of Europe, still succeeding each other, and laying
waste Italy's fairest provinces. They seemed to take
delight in the infliction of wanton cruelties, such as the
storming of Rome and of Florence — in the utter anni
hilation of the liberties of the old republics — and in
massacre, plunder, and violation of every law, human
or divine ; as if mankind had only been created for
the natural prey of those monsters in human form
called conquerors and kings. The evils springing from
the power of the popes, and the internal dissensions
of the Italian states themselves, would have been
i 2

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mitigated, if not removed, by the progress of events,
and the triumph of sounder principles ; but there was
no hope of deliverance from the rival claims of bar
barous and ambitious princes, whose system it was,
and is, to destroy the weakest, and to root out the
germs of liberty all over the world.

VILLA MADAMA.
Risorga dalla tomba avara e lorda
La putrida tua salma, O donna cruda.
Andrea di Basso.
But hark ! the portals sound, and pacing forth,
With solemn steps and slow,
High potentates, and dames of royal birth,
And mitred fathers, in long order go. Guay.
The Villa Madama, situated beyond the Porta
Angelica, was constructed in the year 1520, on the
side of the Monte Mario, anciently the Clivus Cinnce,
and is known to have been designed by the immortal
Raphael. It was chiefly executed, however, after his
death, by his distinguished pupil Giulio Romano.
The frieze of one of the large rooms, painted in fresco,
with some festoons, supported by dancing nymphs, is
from his hand ; and the portico was painted in con
junction by Giulio and his friend Giovanni da Udine.
These are yet in preservation, although the edifice
itself has partly fallen into ruins. On the ceiling are
represented the cars of Diana and Apollo ; birds,
beasts, and, among others, the figures of a sleeping lion
and a goat, about to be offered in sacrifice, drawn with
singular truth and spirit. In the same apartment are
a number of valuable cartoons, but which appear to
be fast hastening to decay ; throughout the entire
palace, in fact, there exist the neglected remains of its
former splendour and magnificence.

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The prospects seen from the summit of the hill are
extremely beautiful and diversified, commanding, in
succession, the Ponte Molle, the Tiber, the city of
Rome, and the mountains of the Appennine. Between
the Villa Madama, and the adjacent one of Mellina,
there is a communication by a pleasant, winding path,
terminating on the higher part of the mountain, from
which appears also a distant view of the Mediterranean
Sea. The Villa Madama, although the production of
the master-mind of Raphael, has been strangely de
serted ; it was recently occupied as a farm, and the
ruder uses of rural toil have helped to accelerate the
progress of time and dilapidation. It now belongs to
the King of Naples.
The most remarkable historical interest, associated
with this edifice, is the fact of its having been the
residence of one of the Medici family, — and one of
those who not only tarnished the lustre of that dis
tinguished house, like so many of its later branches,
but utterly disgraced the name, — the infamous Cathe
rine de' Medici, the Queen of France, and the mother
of Charles IX. Never, perhaps, did the genius of one
woman exercise so terrific and malignant an influence
over the destinies of any country, as that of the wily
and cruel Italian, for upwards of thirty years, over
France. By her false policy and perfidious arts she
gradually transformed a chivalrous and generous na
tion, such as it had appeared during the two preceding
reigns, into bands of ferocious persecutors and assas
sins. A consummate mistress of dissimulation, and of
the coolest courage; — fond of pleasure, and possessed

VILLA MADAMA. 119
of the most seductive manners, she concealed her
deepest designs under the mask of dissipation ; she
could plan a massacre while partaking a banquet, and
caress with irresistible blandishment the victims she
had long destined to destruction. She vied, at the
same time, with the most munificent princes, in the
cultivation and patronage of the liberal arts, and dis
played many of the gentler and winning graces which
adorn the most accomplished woman. She possessed,
in short, genius and powers of mind which, had they
not been wholly perverted and applied to the most
execrable purposes, would have rendered her as truly
great and beneficent as they made her hateful and
terrible in the eyes of her adopted country.
Catherine was the daughter of Lorenzo de' Medici,
Duke of Urbino, and Magdelaine de La Tour. Born
at Florence in 1519, during the stormiest period of its
history, her childhood was exposed to extreme peril
from the hatred borne by the citizens to Pietro, and
others of the exiled Medici ; she was deprived of all
her family possessions, and, at nine years of age, con
fined, a close prisoner, in a convent. During the
memorable siege of Florence, in 1530, some of the
more violent republicans carried their detestation to
such lengths, as actually to propose to check the pro
gress of the enemy by placing her between two battle
ments on the walls of the city, exposed to the fire of
the imperial artillery. A still more unmanly species
of vengeance was even suggested, that of exposing her,
in case of assault, to the brutality of the soldiery ;
but it was unanimously rejected by the council, though

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it was known that the Prince of Orange, the com
mander of the imperial army, eagerly aspired to
obtain her hand. Her uncle, afterwards Clement
VII., entertained still higher views for her ; and these
the death of the prinec, soon after, left him at full
liberty to pursue. After the fall of Florence a nego-
ciation was entered into, by means of the Duke of
Albany, between Francis I. and the pope, for the mar
riage of the princess with Henry, Duke of Orleans ;
and, having been escorted to Marseilles by her uncle,
the cardinal, it was there celebrated with great pomp,
in October 1533. With a remarkably fair complexion,
Catherine had large eyes, full of vivacity and fire;
she had a fine shape ; a beautiful countenance, blended
with great dignity ; and such is stated to have been
the admirable symmetry of her feet and legs, that in
order to display them to the most advantage, she first
wore silk stockings very tight ; her hands and arms,
likewise, surpassed in beauty those of all other ladies
at the court, both as respected their form and delicacy.
Add to these charms that her neck and bosom were of
such dazzling whiteness, " so full and round, as to call
forth the most enthusiastic praise from the beholder,"
and, in particular, from the historian Brantome, who
dwells on the subject with singular complacency. She
knew, moreover, how to exhibit her person to the best
advantage, displaying an admirable taste in dress, as
well as the most alluring manners, and appearing
remarkably well on horseback. With this view, she
changed the mode of riding till then in use ; and
prided herself on the address with which she guided

VILLA MADAMA. 121
her palfrey. From her boldness in the chase, indeed,
she met with several accidents, and once broke her
leg — happy for France had it been her neck — besides
receiving at another time so violent a blow on the head
as to be obliged to undergo the trepan. Nevertheless,
her fondness for field-sports never abandoned her, and
she continued the exercise up to her sixtieth year,
when she still retained much of the lustre of her early
charms. The chief drawback on these, perhaps, was
the size of her head, which was, out of proportion,
large ; and she was unable to walk much at a time
from a strong disposition she felt towards dizziness.
It was not till the accidental death of her consort,
Henry II. , by the spear of Montgomery, in a tourna
ment, that Catherine began to emerge from the obscu
rity in which the great military and political talents of
those in power had hitherto held her. She feared and
hated the Guises ; and the constable Montmorenci
was even more obnoxious to her. He had insinuated
suspicions of her nuptial fidelity, by observing that, of
all the children she had brought the late king, not a
single one resembled him, while his natural daughter
was a remarkable likeness of her father. He had
even advised Henry to repudiate her on the ground of
sterility, some years after their marriage ; after which
it was soon known that she was likely to bring him an
heir ; and he had, moreover, never ceased to taunt and
persecute the greedy and plotting Italians whom she
had brought in her train. Dissembling her resentment,
she awaited a favourable opportunity before she made
him feel the full weight of her vengeance ; and in an

122 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
equal degree she attached herself to the princes of
Lorraine, who had flattered her by offering up to her,
as a sacrifice, Diana de Poitiers, the favourite mistress
of the late king. She had the good fortune, however,
to withdraw in time from court ; and, satisfied with this
triumph, Catherine did not judge it worthy of her dig
nity to drag the duchess from her retreat, permitting
her even to retain the splendid possessions made over
to her by her royal lover. This rare instance of mag
nanimity on her part did her the more honour, from
the Cardinal of Lorraine having consented to the lady's
death, while the sanguinary Marshal de Tavannes
entreated of the queen-mother to permit him the
honour of cutting off her nose. Such vengeance
Catherine scorned — cruel by policy, and not by taste;
she had the satisfaction to receive, as a mark of the
duchess's gratitude, a present of the superb palace of
Chaumont-sur-Loire, situated in the centre of the
estates granted to the queen as her dower.
Immediately on the death of her consort, the Guises
had conveyed his successor, Francis, yet a minor, to
the palace of the Louvre, whither Catherine instantly
followed them ; quitting the royal body, contrary to
the established usage, till then invariably preserved.
Her extreme eagerness to share in the government
impelled her to abridge the forty days of retirement,
till the royal obsequies should be performed, into one
or two. When the constable Montmorenci repaired to
the court to tender his duty to his young sovereign, he
was given to understand, at the instigation of the
Guises, that he would be permitted to retire from

VILLA MADAMA. 123
active service to Chantilli, under plea of his advanced
age. He yielded to superior influence ; but Anthony,
King of Navarre, urged by his brother the Prince of
Conde, came forward to assert his claims over those of
the Guises, as a prince of the blood, but was received
with marked coldness and indignity at court. The
Guises threatened him with the vengeance of the King
of Spain, if he presumed to dictate to the queen-
mother in her choice of the king's ministers ; at the
same time bribing him with a hope of the restitution of
his lost kingdom. To remove him from court, more
over, he received from the young king a commission to
conduct the Princess Elizabeth, his sister, to the fron
tiers of Spain, she being then on the eve of her
unhappy marriage with the gloomy and bigoted tyrant,
Philip II. of Spain.
The Hugonots, unwilling to resign the government
into the hands of the queen-mother and the Guises,
without a struggle, a council of the Calvinist lords, at
the head of which was the Prince of Conde, the great
Admiral Coligni, and the King of Navarre, was sum
moned, to consider on the most advisable measures to
be adopted at such a juncture. After considerable
discussion it was resolved to adhere to mild proceed
ings ; and Anthony of Navarre was deputed to gain
over, if possible, the support of the queen-mother to
their views. But, too deeply versed in Italian wiles,
Catherine overreached the King of Navarre, and, by
alternate threats and flattery, induced him wholly to
abandon his party, and the designs he had in view.
The Duke of Guise, and his brother the Cardinal, both

124 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
of foreign lineage, now combined with the queen-
mother, assuming the entire power of the crown, to
the exclusion of the native princes and ancient nobles
— an exclusion which amounted almost to banishment,
and excited the general indignation of the people. To
add to its intolerance, the ministry, excited by san
guinary zeal, reminded the weak-minded monarch
that he ought to follow the example of his father, and
proceed to exterminate the Hugonots. The ecclesi
astical courts were invested with new inquisitorial
powers, and, from the severity of the penalties inflicted,
they were termed the Chambres Ardentes. The vio
lence of the persecutions which followed soon com
pelled the unhappy Hugonots to rise in self-defence ;
and they were the better enabled to face their enemies
owing to the impolitic conduct of the Guises, who, in
answer to the numerous solicitations of military men
at court, commanded them to withdraw, under pain of
being hung up on a gibbet, expressly erected for the
purpose in the forest of Fontainebleaux. These men
joined the banners of the Hugonots, whose opposition
acquired fresh strength from the cruel execution of one
of the best and noblest of their party, — the excellent
Aune du Bourg, — distinguished for his high talents
and erudition.
Their first efforts, however, under the brave La
Renaudie, proved unsuccessful, and the persecutions
were redoubled on every side ; the streets of Amboise
ran with human blood ; and the queen-mother, with
her three younger sons, accompanied by the principal
ladies of the court, scrupled not to be present at the

VILLA MADAMA. 125
horrible executions which took place, beholding them
from the windows of the castle. Two of the chiefs,
in the agony of torture, were induced to accuse the
Prince of Conde as a participator in the conspiracy,
while others bravely exonerated him, in spite of the
sufferings they endured. With expressions of the
deepest indignation the prince vindicated himself from
the charge, offering to meet his calumniator in single
combat, intending to signify the Duke of Guise. The
latter, masking his rage under the guise of friendship,
so far from taking the accusation to himself, wished to
become the prince's second, while attempting to accom
plish his destruction by every means in his power.
Jealous, however, of the Guises, Catherine now
encouraged Conde and the Hugonots in their demands
of toleration ; she advised the king to summon a convo
cation of the nobility, and it was attended by Mont
morenci, Coligny, and a large train of followers. It
was held in the queen-mother's apartments ; Francis,
the young king, being present in person. The admiral
threw himself at his sovereign's feet, and, after present
ing the petition of his subjects, addressed him in a
strain of impetuous and commanding eloquence on
behalf of the unfortunate Protestants. His language
called forth expressions of such vindictive asperity
from the princes of Lorraine that a quarrel ensued upon
the spot, and Francis was obliged to interpose and
impose silence on the enraged parties ; Coligny treat
ing the two Guises in language of undisguised con
tempt. The assembly broke up in confusion ; and

126 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
the matter was referred to a meeting of the States-
General. Meanwhile, Conde, and the King of Navarre, were
concerting measures in Guienne, more effectually to
oppose the power of the Guises ; but their designs
were betrayed to the court, and in particular impli
cated the governor of Chartres, Francis de Vendome,
a personal enemy of the Duke of Guise. One of the
most brave and gallant noblemen of the age, De
Vendome, was accused by the Protestant writers, who
detested Catherine, of having been specially favoured
by her, along with many other lovers, declaring that
she added to her other faults and crimes that of secret
gallantries. But ambition, not pleasure, seems to
have been her reigning passion ; and, if we may judge
of her conduct towards those ladies of the court who
offended in this point, such allegations can scarcely
be well founded, unless we suppose her capable of
assuming the most useless, as well as base hypocrisy.
In the instance of Mademoiselle de Lemeuil, when
seduced by the Prince of Conde, — though at the
regent's express instigation — she not only reproached,
but inflicted severe personal chastisement upon the
lady, — a system she is known to have adopted and
frequently applied in similar cases of a breach of pro
priety ; although, when for state reasons it fell in with
her views, she, as peremptorily, insisted upon the
sacrifice of their honour to promote her object. With
similar duplicity she now prepared to betray the two
princes of the blood into the power of their enemies.

VILLA MADAMA. 127
On their way to the States-General, both Conde and
Navarre received frequent communications not to
entrust themselves in the hands of the king, and to
go well armed ; but, confiding in their near relation
ship, they scorned to show any distrust. On arriving
at Orleans they were shown into the king's presence,
and received a cold and ungracious reception. As
they prepared to depart, two captains of the guard
stepped forward and told them they were the king's
prisoners. In vain did they appeal ; the Prince of
Conde was imprisoned, and his brother, the King of
Navarre, was carefully guarded ; while their partizans
were every where arrested. Though doubtless her
own plot, Catherine, with her usual dissimulation, ex
pressed the utmost concern for the princes, affected
to intercede, and even to shed tears upon the occasion.
After the mockery of a court-trial, at which the
intrepid Conde refused to plead, the 25th of No
vember was supposed to be the day appointed for his
execution ; the Guises boasting in public " that at
two blows only they would cut off the heads of heresy
and rebellion;" meaning to follow up his death by
that of his brother of Navarre. Davila gives a sin
gular account of the queen-mother's conduct during
the whole of this eventful period. Her object was to
appear innocent of the crime to which she had pre
viously consented : she wore a face full of sorrow and
distress ; she continually sent for the Admiral Coligny,
and his brother, the Cardinal de Chatillon, on pre
tence of finding some expedient to extricate the King
of Navarre and the Prince of Conde. She despatched

128 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
the Duchess of Montpensier to Anthony of Navarre,
with kind and condoling messages ; and so exquisitely,
in short, did she dissemble, that even those who knew
her best hesitated in pronouncing whether she were
sincere or not in the deep concern she exhibited.
The king, in order to avoid being present at the
execution of one of Conde's partizans, — for he was
weak both in mind and body, — had gone out to the
chase. On his return he was taken extremely ill, and
the Guises, apprehensive of the event, and dreading
lest their prey should escape, forced on the trial of
the prince with unprecedented and most indecent
haste. He only owed his life to the courage of the
Count de Sancerre, who three times refused to sign
the warrant, although he received repeated orders to
that effect from the king — in other words, from Cathe
rine and the Duke of Guise. Anthony, King of
Navarre, expecting to fall with his brother, being a
state-prisoner, came to the resolution of disputing his
life with his sword. Calling to him Reinsy, one of his
gentlemen, in this perilous moment, " If they assas
sinate me," he said, " carry my shirt, all bloody, to
my wife and son (afterwards Henry IV.) ; they will
read in my blood what they ought to do to avenge it."
Anthony then entered the apartment where the
young king, Francis II. , was seated, and, approaching
him, kissed his hand with profound submission. Soft
ened by this behaviour, and affected by his noble
presence, the king is said to have changed his resolu
tion, and omitted to give the sign previously agreed
upon for the surrounding attendants to fall upon the

VILLA MADAMA. 129
King of Navarre. " It is asserted," observes De
Thou, " that the Duke of Guise, finding his project
abortive, exclaimed with a voice full of indignation,
' Oh, le timide et lache enfant !' ' You vile, cowardly
boy !' " In the near anticipation of Francis's death,
his mother, with the utmost coolness, took every precau
tion to secure for herself the first place in the govern
ment under his successor. On the death of his brother,
Charles IX. was only ten years of age ; and a fierce
struggle for the regency ensued. Montmorenci, on
hearing the event, set out with six hundred horse, and
making use of his authority, as constable, he drove the
guards from the gates of the city, threatening to hang
them as traitors if they longer dared to surround the
king in time of peace, preventing the access of his
faithful subjects. Nothing could be more artful than
the conduct of Catherine ; she flattered and gained
over the man she hated, declaring Montmorenci to be
the great arbitrator and moderator in all things ; she
entered into a secret compact with the King of
Navarre and Cond6, whose lives she had so recently
sought ; and while engaging the constable to mediate
between the Princes of Bourbon and the Guises, she
secured to herself the entire power of the regency,
and undisputed empire over the mind of the youthful
king. From this period may be dated her real polit
ical career, one which plunged the country into every
species of crime, of wretchedness, and ruin — the
victim of a false and cunning policy, founded on
utter selfishness and love of sway.
The system of government now adopted, tore

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asunder every bond of society, — was alike destructive
to public and private faith, — and undermined every
principle of human action, till it became fully de
veloped in the fearful massacre of St. Bartholomew.
It is impossible to contemplate the reign of Charles
IX. without feelings of mingled horror and com
miseration. France, shaken to its centre with the
fury of civil factions, became a blank in the map of
Europe ; and successive invasions of German, Spanish,
and English armies, bore a small proportion to the
tremendous evils inflicted upon her by her own
princes, and the unhappy rivalries that prevailed.
Independant of his mother's wily and pernicious
councils, the character of Charles cannot be better
illustrated than by the nature of his amusements.
He is known to have been extremely fond of behead
ing animals, and afterwards dissecting them ; he also
performed all the functions of an executioner and
of a butcher with singular precision and address.
He was accustomed to work at the forge, and to make
the barrels of muskets and harquebusses with his own
hands. He was equally dexterous at striking coins
or medals, whether in gold or silver, and so perfect
were his imitations as to deceive the nicest eye.
We have heard much of the pastimes of princes ; and
among others of a less sanguinary kind, Charles, on
one occasion, introduced ten thieves, common cut-
purses, into the drawing-room of the Louvre, during
a crowded ball and festival ; he gave them orders to
exercise their utmost address, at the expense of the
guests ; he watched their feats of dexterity, looked

VILLA MADAMA. 131
over the proceeds of their night's adventure, exceeding
in value 1500 crowns, and even permitted them to
pocket the spoil. Then dismissing them, he declared,
with no idle menace, that if he ever heard of their being-
engaged in the same traffic, he would himself string them
up in a row upon the gibbet. He was addicted, indeed,
to every kind of wild, or, what is termed, practical
joke, and so much was he in the habit of it with
his friend the Count De La Rochefoucault, that on the
assassins of St. Bartholomew knocking at his door,
the unfortunate Count imagined it to be the king
himself, with whom he had been playing the night
before, bent on some youthful frolic ; with this idea he
rose from his bed and dressed himself, exclaiming all
the time, " These are just the tricks of the late king,
your father, but you will not catch me so." He ran
and opened the door, and received more than one
dagger in his bosom. On leaving the palace the
night before, the king would have kept him in his
own cabinet, but, on his refusal to stay, observed
laughing, ' It is the will of God, — there goes a dead
man!" If we add to the wholesale murders and
assassinations of the period, the immense loss of lives
by duels, as they are described in the Memoirs of
D'Aubigne, the picture of a profligate court and cor
rupted people will be complete. The battle, by sword
and dagger, was reduced to a regular science, and
the most accomplished men of the age incurred the
greatest expences, and made long journeys, for the
pleasure of meeting in their shirts to decide their rela
tive merits in the noble art of defence. D'Aubigne
k 2

132 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
himself set out from the vicinity of Orleans to Castle-
geloux, in Gascony, across a great part of France to
encounter La Magdelaine, with whom he had quarrelled
on account of the reputation he had acquired by his
having despatched eight gentlemen in single combat
without losing a drop of blood. On the morning of
the duel, he states, that he rose early and prayed
devoutly to God : such being the rage for this fatal
fashion as to rank among its votaries even the most
religious and elevated characters of the times.
The practice was sometimes attended with a degree
of capriciousness, cruelty, and atrocity, difficult to be
believed. A noted duellist having received a challenge,
gave his rival a hint that it would be more prudent in
him to desist; but on being further urged, he declared
that he would only consent to put him to death upon
the following terms : these were, that whichsoever of
the two gained the victory, he should have the satis
faction of gibbeting, and burning, as well as killing,
his adversary. It was agreed ; and on going to the
field the challenger actually beheld a gallows ready
prepared, and near it a funeral pile and a lighted
torch to set fire to it
One of the most formidable swordsmen of his age
was Baron De Vitaux, to whose rare coolness and
skill an immense number, both of professors and
amateurs, had fallen victims. His vengeance also
knew no bounds ; and even the monarch on his throne
trembled at the idea of giving umbrage to a man of
such daring resolution and prowess. His renown
spread over all Europe ; and foreigners who visited

VILLA MADAMA. 133
the country were eager to behold a champion of the
art who had never met with his match. He was at
length compelled to take refuge in Italy to avoid pay
ing the penalty of his life, — sought by the friends of
the numerous rivals he had slain ; but soon weary of
his exile, and having a new project in view, he suffered
his beard to grow, and having assumed the disguise of
a lawyer, he hastened back to Paris to revenge him
self on a gentleman named Milhaud, who had killed
the baron's brother. Attended by two brothers, called
Boucicant, whom he termed his lions, he attacked his
enemy, though supported by five or six men, in the
open street; and not only did he leave him dead, but
succeeded in making his escape. Afterwards, when
taken, he found no difficulty in obtaining a pardon
from the crown. But the son of Milhaud having
attained to manhood, became eager to revenge his
father, and, seeking out the baron, demanded instant
reparation. The baron advised the young man to
desist, but in vain ; they met beyond the walls, with a
sword and poignard, and stripped to their shirts. It
was now the baron, betrayed by his good fortune, and
his contempt for so youthful a foe, paid the penalty
of his deeds, receiving a mortal wound of which he
expired on the spot.
Such, in part, were the fruits of a system, founded
upon Machiavelian principles, and practised with true
Italian refinement by Catherine, who maintained her
power by opposing the leading parties against each
other. The excellent Chancellor Olivier had died of
grief and horror on witnessing the enforcement of the

134 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
sanguinary edicts of the crown. In vain did the
virtuous L' Hopital oppose the fury of the torrent,
refusing, as he had done, to affix his signature to the
king's order for the Prince of Conde's execution. It
is a singular fact that none of the three sons of
Catherine, who died during her life-time, fell without
strong suspicions of having been poisoned; all at the
period of their death had begun to question her
authority, and she received a strong accession of
power at the decease of each. Nor is it astonishing
that a woman who could systematically urge her own
children to the violation of every principle of justice
or of mercy, should, to atchieve her own ambitious
views, embrue her hands in the noblest blood of France,
and maintain her power even by the sacrifice of her
own offspring. Though not sanguinary from disposi
tion, state expediency was her supreme law ; and how
far such a law can justify, in the eyes of royalty, every
crime, the court-annals of modern Spain, Portugal,
and Russia, dyed red in kindred blood, bear mournful
witness to the world.
Catherine being now regent, and the king of Na
varre general of the kingdom, an event occurred which
threatened to interrupt the negociations for peace.
The Duke of Guise was invited to return to court,
and, on his way, he stopped at the little town of Vassy,
where he went to hear mass. While thus engaged, a
crowd of Calvinists, who were assembled in a barn,
disturbed the ceremony by their hymns. A dispute
followed between his domestics and the people ; and,
on interfering to preserve peace, the duke himself re-

VILLA MADAMA. 135
ceived a blow on the cheek from a stone. Perceiving
the blood flow, his attendants instantly drew their
swords, and killed or wounded above two hundred of
the Hugonots. Redress was sought by the Prince of
Conde in vain, and the regent soon beheld a civil war,
chiefly produced by her own ambiguous and interested
measures, on the eve of taking place. The Duke of
Guise, followed soon after by Montmorenci, appeared
witn a large force at Fontainebleau, while the King of
Navarre, on the other hand, anticipated them, by
making himself master of the king's person, and re
moving him along with the regent to a more secure
residence. It was not clone without compulsion ; and
some of his party even threatened to throw the queen-
mother into the Seine if she dared to oppose the journey
to Paris. Appealing to Catherine, the young king-
burst into tears of indignation as he was led away.
The Prince of Conde, perceiving no other means of
safety, declared for open war, and, marching towards
Orleans, arrived just in time to support the Hugonots,
in making themselves masters of that city. This was
the signal for general war; the King of Navarre joined
the royal party, along with the Guises — Conde and
Coligni that of the Hugonots. Success, however, at
tended the former, and the kingdom became a scene of
rapine, violence, and desolation. The most barbarous
excesses were committed by both parties in a san
guinary engagement at Dreux, where the genius of the
Du.ke of Guise again triumphed, even after the battle
appeared lost. The constable, Montmorenci, was made
a prisoner, and Coligni, after performing prodigies of

136 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
valour, made a masterly retreat, leaving the Prince of
Conde in the hands of the enemy. He was treated
with honour and humanity by the Duke of Guise, who,
having no better accommodation, lodged him in his
own tent, and even shared his couch with him, though
he had so eagerly sought his life, both on the scaffold
and in the field. The prince was heard to declare
that he could not sleep, but that the duke slept
soundly the whole of the night. The distinguished
Marshal St. Andre, one of the triumvirate, fell in this
battle. It was first reported to Catherine as being lost,
upon which, in anticipation of the triumph of the re
formed doctrines, she is stated to have exclaimed, with
an air of levity, " Well, then, we must for the future
pray to the Lord in French ! " All that she was anxious
to ascertain, was, with which party she could enjoy the
largest portion of absolute power. The next day, in
deed, she evinced her mortification on learning the
victory of the duke, standing in awe, as she did, of
his decided and commanding character : yet she wore
a face of joy, and ordered a series of balls and festivals
to celebrate the event. But another event soon changed
the whole aspect of the war ; the Duke of Guise, re
turning one evening, without his armour, from exa
mining some works, attended only by one gentleman,
an assassin lying in wait discharged three balls, which
struck him in the left shoulder. He expired at the
end of eight days, with the reputation of one of the
greatest generals of the age : his repulse of Charles V.
and his taking of Calais from the English being in
cluded in the number of his exploits. The queen-re-

VILLA MADAMA. 137
gent, as if conscious she would be suspected of insti
gating the deed, insisted upon being interrogated in
the duke's own chamber, before his family and a
number of the nobility. The assassin, Poltrot de
Mere, a gentleman of Anjoumois, was taken, while
asleep, by one of the duke's secretaries ; and, on being
put to the torture, he was led to accuse the virtuous
Coligny of having been a party to the commission of
the deed. This, however, did not save him, and he was
torn in pieces by wild horses — the punishment reserved
by law for regicides and traitors.
By the duke's death, Catherine was left without a
rival in the cabinet : she directly entered into nego-
ciations to amuse the leaders of the different parties,
and sought to detach the Prince of Conde from the
Hugonots by the most magnificent offers. Aware of
his love for one of her maids of honour, she secretly
insisted upon the sacrifice of her virtue to draw him
further into her snares ; but, when the unhappy girl's
ruin was accomplished, Catherine expelled her with
every mark of virtuous indignation from court, and, in
stead of being united to, as she had hoped, she was
abandoned by the prince. On hearing this shameless
conduct, it is said the consort of Conde was so deeply
affected at so disgraceful a proof of his infidelity, as to
have died of grief.
About this period, 1564, the queen-regent com
menced the magnificent structure of the Tuilleries, on
the site of the palace of the Tournelles, in which her
husband Henry II. had expired. In this undertaking
she engaged the most distinguished architects of the

138 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
times, whom, it is only justice to state, she rewarded
with liberality, as she did most of the eminent cha
racters in other branches of literature and the arts.
Magnificent in all her tastes, she would have been
adored in the country she had adopted, had the qua
lities of her heart corresponded with those of her in
tellect, and had she devoted herself to the honour and
advantage, not to the disgrace and ruin, of her family
and her country. By successively betraying every party
with which she acted, she became feared, hated, and
at length despised by all ; and the memorable words
in which Charles on his death-bed addressed his
mother, declaring that she was the cause of the evils
that had fallen on the country, and warning the King
of Navarre not to trust himself in her hands, speak
more than volumes as to the real character of Ca
therine. Embracing his cousin, afterwards Henry IV.,
the dying king said, " I recommend my wife and
daughter to your care, and God bless you ; but do not
trust yourself in the power of" ... he was about
to name his mother, when, interrupting him, she cried,
" Do not say such a thing — say not that." " I must
say it," replied Charles, "for that is the truth !" What
a reproach to a mother from the lips of a dying son !
What a fearful thing is royalty, that can thus trans
form nature herself into all that is most hateful and
loathsome to the soul.
Henry III., who succeeded him, was Catherine's
favourite son : he had been elected to the throne of
Poland, and, on showing extreme repugnance to leave
France, Charles, from jealousy and resentment, had

VILLA MADAMA. 139
commanded his instant departure, and his mother im
plored him to obey, giving him her promise that only
a brief period should elapse before his recall. The
affairs of the kingdom under Henry grew more hope
lessly embarrassed and distracted than before : by
breaking the royal faith with the Hugonots the horrors
of civil war were repeatedly renewed. The celebrated
Montmorenci, Conde, St. Andre, many of the most
noble and virtuous of every party had perished in the
fearful struggles that ushered in the execrable massacre
of St. Bartholomew. After Coligni had fallen in that
night of horrors, the brave Soubise, covered with
wounds, we are told, after a long and gallant defence,
was at last put to death under the queen-mother's
windows ; where, however incredible, the ladies of the
court with unfeeling curiosity went to view his naked
corpse, disfigured as it was. The bodies of the slaugh
tered Hugonots were collected and thrown in heaps
before the palace of the Louvre, to satiate the ven
geance of Catherine, who, it is said, expressed her
gratification at so lamentable a spectacle. The Mar
shal de Tavannes also, who had engaged among the
most eager and ferocious in the execution of this vast
political murder, ran through the streets of Paris,
crying, " Let blood, let blood ! bleeding is always
wholesome — in the month of August as well as in
May ! " Even Charles IX. himself, having once
overcome the terror and reluctance he felt when
yet upon the threshold of the fatal act, wholly
insensible of the character of a monarch or a man,
personally assisted in the slaughter of his subjects ;

140 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
firing upon them with a long harquebuss from the
windows of the palace, and aiming at the fugitives
whom he saw attempting to escape from the Fauxbourg
St. Germain.
The head of the Admiral Coligni was carried to the
queen-mother; and Charles, with several of his cour
tiers, went to survey the body which had been exposed
to public view. Some of them turning away in disgust
from the offensive smell, " The body of a dead enemy,"
exclaimed Charles, imitating the Roman emperor,
" always smells sweet." The princes of the blood,
Henry, King of Navarre, and the young Prince of
Conde, had been spared, and, having been ordered
into the presence of the king, he commanded them
with many imprecations instantly to abjure their reli
gion, or suffer death. The King of Navarre yielded,
but the prince firmly refused, declaring he would never
desert his religious principles, till Charles, half frantic
with passion, addressed him in these few terrific words ;
" Mort, Messe, ou Bastile ! "
Every enormity which could be perpetrated stained
the fearful week during which the royal butchery con
tinued — more than 5000 persons of all ranks in the
capital, and 20,000 throughout the country, are be
lieved to have fallen victims — the Seine was loaded
with dead bodies ; and, as a proof of the spirit that
actuated the royal councils, it is stated that a butcher,
who entered the palace during the fury of the massacre,
boasted to his emulating sovereign, while he laid bare
his gory arm, that he had himself despatched more
than one hundred and fiftv Hugonots. Such as were

VILLA MADAMA. 141
afterwards taken were condemned to capital punish
ment, and, by an excess of barbarity difficult to ima
gine, Charles IX. was desirous of beholding their last
agonies. When hung at night, he commanded torches
to be raised up to the faces of the criminals, with a
view of observing the effects which the sudden ap
proach and progress of death produced upon their
features. Catherine survived to an advanced period of life, and
till nearly the close of the reign of Henry III., whose
impious, ferocious, and despicable character seemed
even to refine upon the horrid maxims inculcated by
his mother. She died in her seventieth year, and was
attended in her last moments by a physician named
St. Germain. It is said that she had been cautioned,
early in life, to beware of St. Germain, which had led
her to avoid staying at the palace so named for any
length of time; and it was jocosely remarked by the
Parisians, that, spite of her care, St. Germain had
ended her at last.

VICO VARO.

Domus Albunca resonantis,
Et prjeceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus. Hor.

A succession of landscapes, scarcely equalled in
any part of the world, conduct the tourist, with unin-
termitted delight, from the Tiber, winding under the
shadow of imperial Rome, to the lovely glens and
valleys, where it purls quietly along, as if rejoicing to
forget the habitations of the Caesars, and their history,
amid the harmonies of unchanging nature. Tivoli and
the Alban hills, and Vico Varo itself, lying embosomed
amid green mountains, form a little district of sylvan
beauty which is as attractive from the variety, as from
the loveliness, of the scenery. The mountain has its
convent or its castle — the valley its sparkling stream
and white-walled village ; and, when the eye wanders
into the distance, it is not simply a mass of forest
foliage, or the monotonous grandeur of mountains that
fix the attention, but whatever is most lovely in
nature, associated with some object which at once
prevents the mind from trusting for its pleasure to the
mere reveries of the country. The ruined aqueducts,
which so often cross the traveller's path in Italy, are
conspicuous objects amid soft luxuriant scenery.
They remind us more than castles or palaces of the con-

I a

VICO VARO. 143
dition of the country in its days of opulence : and
their ruins consequently are more indicative of change
and poverty than those of more showy and magnificent
structures. On the road to Vico Varo there are two
ruins of this description, and the scenery is repeatedly
heightened in its effect by the strange contrast they
form with their heavy crumbling masses, poised along
the brink of the dells, to the bright wavy woods through
which they are traced .
Vico Varo is, at present, a clean and pretty town,
but retains little of the importance which in former
ages induced the Romans to fortify it with a wall of
immense strength. It is mentioned by Horace by the
name of Varia, and its present similar appellation,
with the ruins of its fortifications, are all that remain
to awaken the recollection of its antiquity. Mr. Wood
observes that he heard of a temple here, but found in
stead, only a half Gothic octagonal chapel of modern
date. The anecdote he relates of his inquiry after this
building will serve to show the state of the peasantry
in the neighbourhood. " I had plenty of offers," says
he, " to carry me thither, and to Licenza, and the
villa of Horace, and I engaged a ragged little fellow
for that purpose : on the way he told me how many
Inglesi he had served, and what fine handsome men
they were ; and, of course, how generous, and how
well they had paid him. He inquired my name, and,
when I had told him, he exclaimed, ' Bel nome!* era il
nome del Marito di Nostra Signora.' And I was im
mediately ' Signor Giuseppe,' Signor Mio Giuseppe,'
* What a fine name ! it was the name of our lady's husband !

144

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

and ' Caro Mio Signor Giuseppe.' He then proceeded
to tell me he had gone to bed without supper, and had
eaten nothing that morning : (E nondimeno sto sempre
allegro cosi) : but a modification was added afterwards,
that he had eaten nothing but the tops of the travel
ler's joy (clematis vitalba), which indeed we saw a
parcel of women and children gathering for a similar
purpose  I gave my young ragamuffin," continues
Mr. Wood, " his dinner at Licenza, and five pauls when
I got to the gate of the convent, but he still begged
for more, and followed me into the monastery, and
into my bed-room, to obtain it. I told the superior
how much I had given, and he replied that it was too
much, and that two pauls would have been sufficient.
All this passed in the boy's hearing, yet he still con
tinued his importunity. The lower classes here seem
to find no shame in begging, under any circumstances.
As nothing is therefore lost by it, and they may pos
sibly gain, they consider that it is foolish to lose any
thing for want of asking, or even of urging their de
mands to the utmost." Strange is it, would a theorist
be apt to exclaim, that the beauty with which these
people are surrounded does not give them a greater
aversion to mendicity and its attendant servile vices :
but thus it is. Poverty, when it presses too closely on
human beings, shuts both their hearts and senses to
that which makes music for the well-fed and happy.

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SAN COSIMATO.

Cura tibi Divum efligics et templa tueri. Virgil.

The Franciscan convent of San Cosimato affords
another instance of the good taste with which the
founders of monasteries have usually chosen the sites
of their establishments. San Cosimato stands beet
ling on the edge of a rude precipice, the sternness of
which, with the gloom of the surrounding thickets, is
well calculated to inspire the most sombre reflections.
But, solemn as is the aspect of the scenery at particular
points, the solitary traveller has not far to go before he
finds himself surrounded with objects of quiet, gentle
beauty, which quickly soften the less genial feelings
that may have taken hold of his imagination. The
hills, which here and there open into small dells of the
most delicious verdure, give birth to numerous little
springs, which, finding their way through the fissures
in the rocks, seem to invite the summer, with her whole
tribe of wild flowers, to make a perpetual stay. Mr.
Wood compares the country about this convent to the
finest parts of South Wales, but at the same time
points out a striking difference ; the inhabitants of the
Italian province having placed their villages on the very

146 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
summit of the cliffs. " There is more cultivation,"
says he ; " the wood is carried higher up the mountains,
and the rocky points above are loftier and more ab
rupt. The villages are on the hill-tops ; and if you
were to imagine Settle placed on the summit of the
high hills which rise behind it, or Griggleswick at the
top of the scar which bears its name, we should
still have a very inadequate idea of their situation."
In the neighbourhood of the convent are some
openings in the rocks, which the people regard with
veneration, as the supposed retreats of the celebrated
founder of the Benedictine order. There are several
circumstances recorded in his life which agree well
with the supposition that he spent some portion of his
time in these wild caverns. He began his career by
fleeing while a boy to a deep mountain-cave, which
was impenetrable, except to steps which dared the
most fearful precipices. In this solitude he was fed
by the charity of a monk, who let his morsel of bread
down to him by means of a rope. His piety at length
became generally known, and the brothers of a neigh
bouring monastery forced him, notwithstanding his
entreaties to the contrary, to become their abbot.
Such, however, was the strictness of the rule he in
stituted, that, in order to free themselves from the
burden, the monks formed a plot to murder him. But
Benedict discovered their intentions; and, bidding
them recollect that he had told them from the be
ginning they were unfit to live together, took his
departure into another district, and resumed his
austerities undisturbed.

SAN COSIMATO. 147
The history of saints and martyrs gives a solemn
and not unpleasing interest to such scenes as these.
They mistook their duty, perhaps, in forsaking the
world ; but their piety and virtue, as far even as it
could be practically exercised, were of the highest
order. Would, however, that we could say of
Vallombrosa, and its kindred institutions, what has
been so beautifully said by Warton of the monasteries
of England ! —
Much can we pardon to th' ingenious muse ;
Her fairy shapes are tricked hy fancy's pen :
Severer reason forms far other views,
And scans the scene with philosophic ken.
From these deserted domes new glories rise ;
More useful institutes, adorning man,
Manners enlarged, and new civilities,
On fresh foundations build the social plan.
Science, on ampler plume, a bolder flight
Essays, escap'd from superstition's shrine :
While freed religion, like primeval light,
Bursting from Chaos, spreads her warmth divine.

L 2

NARNI.
Sed jam parce mihi, nee abutere, Narnia, Quinto ;
Pcrpetuo liceat sic tibi Ponte frui. Martial.
Were the tourist in Italy compelled to limit his
visit to a very small number of places, Narni would
be one in his catalogue. There is a beauty in the
stream which flows through its fertile valleys, and in
the olive plantations that shade the precipitous mount
on which the town stands, that might delay the most
impatient traveller on his route, and make him forget
many a more famed city, and hills and valleys of
higher classical fame. One circumstance respecting
Narni especially deserves to be noted. Full as it
is of picturesque beauty, it has just sufficient of
antiquarian interest about it to give a sombre, quiet
grace to the attractions conferred on it by nature.
There is little in its neighbourhood to set invention on
the rack ; no monuments, bearing inscriptions which,
once seen, disturb for months after the slumbers of the
antiquary, arise amid its shades. The only object of
importance is the ruined bridge, through the naked
arches of which the Nera pours its waters as fresh and
joyously as it did a thousand years ago. Nor is the spec
tator, when inclined to indulge in contemplating the
contrast thus afforded between the perishable things

narni. 149
of man and the lasting works of nature, startled from
his reverie by any doubts as to when the picturesque
bridge before him was erected. The Emperor Augustus
is universally allowed to have given directions for its
construction ; and the simple sentiment of veneration
for the massy ruins, remains to blend itself with the
delight inspired by the murmuring of the waters, the
loveliness of the valley they irrigate, and the green
cliffs which shadow them in their course. Tranquil,
beautiful Narni ! we could well linger among thy
groves, and recall with pleasure the dream of thy
sylvan solitude ; but, like the traveller who has only
returned for a momentary glance at some favourite
spot, we must be contented with this passing tribute
to thy beauty.

TERNI.

Nee desunt variae circum oblectamina vitse. Statius.

Terni, as well as the gay and lovely hills of Narni,
has already attracted our attention ; and in the same
way as we returned for a passing glance at the. latter,
we look again for a while on Terni, with its wondrous
cascade and magnificent landscapes. The town has
been described too particularly to require further
mention; and we shall therefore give M. Simond's
amusing picture of the neighbourhood through which
the traveller passes in his way to the most splendid
object of his search.
" The ascent," says he, " is long and steep, and in
many places cut into the perpendicular face of the
rock — a noble work performed by Pope Lambertini
about seventy years ago. This princely road, about
two-thirds the way up, passes through a village which
seemed wholly inhabited by beggars — a sort of town
rather, for an old wall swept round it on the brow of
the hill. It bore on its elevated battlements an irre
gular succession of mean buildings, with sashless
windows and moss-grown balconies, out of which the
tattered linen of each family was hanging to dry. The
interior, of which we had a glimpse as we drove
through, resembled a den of thieves much more than

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TERNI. 15]
a country village. Out of their murky holes a beg
garly population of women and children hurried to
meet us, wildly chanting tanta fame .'- — while the men,
muffled up in their dark cloaks, one side ihrown over
the left shoulder, a slouched hat over their black un
shaven faces, with a red feather or a bit of green, with
red berries stuck in the hatband, stalked gloomily in
the rear. Thus escorted, we proceeded on foot through
a very pretty natural wilderness, a sort of sheep-walk
or goats' walk, with clumps of trees and bushes, to
the Velino, a rapid torrent, very full, and breaking
finely over the rocks of its rude channel. This chan
nel, two miles in length, and very wide, is artificial;
but the hammer and chisel of twenty centuries have
rendered it natural. We learn from Cicero that an
individual had it made simply to drain his country
villa. Annoyed and alarmed by our company, who
pressed round more and more, I thought it prudent to
come to an understanding with them ; which was, that
if they would turn back and wait for us, we should
reward them handsomely, while, if they persisted in
following, they would get nothing. A treaty was thus
finally concluded, and the conditions were so far kept
on their part that they went no further ; but instead
of going back they made a full stop. From the fall
we afterwards could see our ragged regiment drawn
up on the height where we had left them, watching
us, and on our return we were again closely sur
rounded." The road to the falls, notwithstanding the annoy
ances pointed out by M. Simond, has attractions

152 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
amply sufficient to compensate the traveller for his
toil. For a considerable way it is lined with refreshing
shades of evergreen oak ; but at the village of Papigno
it branches off into two paths, the one of which con
ducts to the summit of the rock from which the torrent
is precipitated — the other to its base. The former of
these roads, after ascending a steep limestone hill,
runs for near three quarters of a mile over an almost
level track, the surface of which is formed from the
concretions left by the water, and returns a hollow
sound to the tread of the feet. Of the many spots
from which the traveller is directed to contemplate the
falls, the most advantageous is that on which stands a
little summer-house, said to have been built by Buon
aparte for the accommodation of visiters. The first
point from which the water is hurled is at an elevation
of about forty or fifty feet; the second, or, as it is
termed, the perpendicular part, falls from a height of
near five hundred and ninety-eight feet ; and the
depth of the chasm through which it afterwards rushes,
in one vast stream, into the Nera is said to be two
hundred and forty : making in all a descent of eight
hundred and thirty-eight feet.

VALLOMBROSA.
Vallombrosa ;
Cosi fu noininata una badia,
Ricca e bella, non men religiosa,
E cortese a chiunquevi venia. Ariosto.
Which crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness. Milton.
The power of the poet is shown in few things more
remarkably than in that of his giving a perpetuity of
remembrance to the places he may chance to mention
in his song. What would the generality of English
readers have known of Vallombrosa, had not Milton
named it? And who, since he spoke of it, has
not dreamt of its tangled wilds, and dim, religious
bowers ; — of its awful groves, strewing the brooks
"with their autumnal leaves," and all the other sad
or solemn images of "Etrurian shades!" But never
did poet fix upon a richer scene from which to draw
the forms that people his world than Vallombrosa.
The perfect solitude of its thickets, preserved from
intrusion by the height and almost impassable crags
of the mountain, fits it for the constant residence
of meditation, and of minds that have bidden adieu
for ever to the world and its concerns. It has been
elegantly observed, by the author of the " Philosophy

154 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
of Nature," that the founders of abbeys, and other
religious houses, have evinced a remarkable taste in
selecting the most delightful situations for their de
votional retreats. The woods and rocks, however,
which give beauty or sublimity to the scene, create in
fact the solitude ; and the latter, in such a country as
Italy, could rarely be found without the former. It is
not, therefore, in all instances that we can attribute
the beautiful situation of a monastery to the taste
of its founders for the charms of nature. But
Vallombrosa owed its selection to individual enthu
siasm, and whatever strongly affects the mind and
heart in conjunction, disposes to the love of scenery.
The founder of this far-famed abbey was John
Gualbertus, a Florentine of noble family, who lived
in the early part of the eleventh century. He was
led to think more seriously of religion than he had
hitherto done by a singular circumstance. One of his
relations having fallen a sacrifice to the resentment
or avarice of some person, the murderer became an
object of pursuit to the rest of the family, who,
according to the custom of the age, considered them
selves charged with the duty of avenging on his person
the death of their relative. It so happened that
John Gualbertus was the first to meet the criminal
in a place which admitted not of his escape. That
one must fall seemed the necessary result of this
rencounter. But whether the wretched man had
truly repented of his crime, or was struck with a
sudden sense of fear that prevented his defending
himself, he fell prostrate at the feet of Gualbertus,

VALLOMBROSA. 155
and solemnly besought him to spare his life for the
sake of Jesus Christ. The appeal was hearkened
to; John felt his desire of revenge overpowered by
new sentiments of mercy ; and, yielding to the benign
impulse, he bade the offender depart in peace.
This occurrence made a powerful impression on
the mind of Gualbertus. No sooner was he left
alone than he hastened to a neighbouring church,
and there, with fervent prayers, blessed the Almighty
for having given him grace to forgive so great an
enemy. The pleasure he experienced from this
first act of religious devotion induced him to deter
mine thenceforth to pass his days in the service of
God, and utterly to forsake the world and its concerns.
He was, for some time, opposed in this resolution
by his father ; but his mind was fixed on the attain
ment of a virtue and holiness which he did not believe
could be effectually pursued without retiring from all
secular intercourse. The firmness with which he per
sisted in his resolution at length overcame the un
willingness of his relatives, and he was allowed to
enter the Benedictine monastery of St. Minias, at
Florence. On the death of the abbot, his piety
recommended him to the monks as the worthiest of
their number to succeed the late superior, and
he was accordingly elected to the chief station in
the establishment. But he had no greater inclination
to incur the responsibilities of such an office than he
had to engage in the business of the world. Finding,
therefore, that the brothers were intent upon forcing
him to accept the vacant dignity, he retired from

156 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
the monastery, and entered that of Camaldoli, situated
but a few miles distant from Vallombrosa.
This institution, which almost equals in reputation
that which we are about to describe, had been but
lately established by Saint Romuald, one of the most
distinguished men of the age. Like Gualbertus, he
was descended from a family of rank, and, like
him, owed his conversion to a strong conviction of
the wretched state of morals which prevailed in his
time. He had often, it is said, when pursuing the
pleasures common to his age and rank, felt disgusted
with their folly ; and often, when he happened in
hunting to find himself alone in some retired spot
of the forest, he would exclaim " How much better
would it be to spend one's life amid these tranquil
shades than to pass it in the midst of the world !"
These feelings received a considerable accession of
strength, when his father, who is described as a man
of the most violent passions, obliged him to be present
at a duel which he fought with some one who had
offended him. From that moment Romuald deter
mined to pass his life in religious solitude, and to
promote, by every means in his power, the same dis
position in others. His efforts, in respect both to him
self and to those whom he addressed, proved eminently
successful. The growth of his piety was accompanied
by a corresponding increase of reputation and in
fluence. He was thus soon enabled to form a little
community of person? devoted to the same principles
as himself; but even while still a young man, and
under the tutelage of a hermit, to whom he had joined

VALLOMBROSA. 157
himself, he had an important share in persuading
Peter Urseole, the Doge of Venice, to resign his
ill-acquired dignity. After a long life, of varied
labour, and some peril, he founded the monastery of
Camaldoli, and soon after died.
The discipline of that establishment was of the
strictest kind, and Gualbertus remained there a con
siderable time. But at length the superior expressed
his desire that John should be chosen his successor,
which induced him to retire from this monastery as
he had before done from St. Minias. On his way
from Camaldoli, he passed through the wild, untrodden
district of Vallombrosa. The united beauty and
solitude of the place arrested his steps, and he resolved
upon passing the remainder of his days among its
shades. There was a small spot of level ground, in
the heart of the rugged precipice, which seemed
formed expressly for the abode of a little brotherhood,
intent only on the worship of God and the exercise
of personal austerities. The stern Appennines hemmed
it in with their rocks and woods. Not an echo was
to be heard that bore any murmur of the peopled
valleys. Here and there a stream, gushing through
the interposing crags, broke the silence but not the
solitude of the scene; and the birds, that sung hidden
in the impenetrable foliage of the forests, were by
the very nature of their race afraid, like the holy
hermit himself, of being subject to man, or his
customs. In this lonely spot, therefore, Gualbertus
look up his residence. There were already, it is said
by some writers, two eremites in the neighbourhood ;

158 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
and, having united himself to them, he obtained
a grant of the glade from the superior of an
abbey to whom the district pertained. He was soon
joined by several persons who venerated him for his
signal piety ; and, a humble building having been
erected, a brotherhood was formed, of which he
remained the venerated head to the end of his days.
The rule which he followed in the government of the
society was that of St. Benedict, in the strictest
form ; and there is sufficient evidence to prove that
he felt the necessity of adhering to it, as the only
safeguard against the corruptions which, even in
solitude, lead men to imitate the world. His feelings
respecting the growing vices of the monastic orders
were strongly shown whenever he saw them indicate
a love of luxury or ostentation. A legend reports
that, going on a visit one day to a neighbouring
monastery, he was astonished and disgusted to find that
the building had more the appearance of a lordly
residence, than of one intended for the simple
shelter of the servants of Jesus Christ. "What!"
exclaimed he, addressing the abbot, " have you built
a palace with the money which might have nourished
a multitude of the poor and distressed ?"
Then, turning towards a little brook which ran near,
he said, " O Almighty God, who of the least things
art often pleased to make the mightiest, may I see
this little stream overthrow this edifice, so unworthy
of our profession !"
The legend states that, soon after he retired, the
brook overflowed, and, by the increased strength and

VALLOMBROSA. 159
rapidity of its current, loosening the rock on which
the monastery was built, brought down the sumptuous
structure. On another occasion he proved not only
his fear of luxury, but his disinterestedness. Having
heard that a person had entered the establishment
who had bequeathed it his possession to the prejudice
of his natural heirs, he went and demanded the testa
ment, and taking it in his hand immediately tore it
in pieces. His humility was also shown in another
manner, when Pope Stephen IX., in passing near Val
lombrosa, sent messengers with an intimation that he
desired to see him. John, however, was unwell, and
excused himself on that plea. The pope again sent ;
and, expressing the most earnest wish for his company,
told the messengers that if he could come in no
other way he must come on his bed. Excuses were
now in vain, and the abbot, believing that the pope's
earnestness was simply the result of a useless curiosity,
prayed God that he would not oblige him to have his
pride or vanity thus pampered. His prayer, it is
said, was heard. A violent storm came on as they
were carrying him down the valley, and the attendants
found themselves obliged to return with speed to the
abbey. Such was the founder of the monastery of Vallom
brosa ; nor will the traveller, as he throws himself
beneath the shade of the old venerable trees that
frown about his path, forget the virtues, the benevo
lence, and humility of John Gualbertus. Beautiful
as these wild scenes are by nature, he will now feel
how doubly interesting they are rendered to the human

160 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
mind by any connexion with human history. Had
Vallombrosa been an uninhabited valley, far less
lovely would have seemed its peace and solitude ; less
musically would its brooks have murmured to the
ear of melancholy ; less solemnly even would the
leaves of its shadowy forests have fallen on the waters
of the stream.
Mr. Forsyth has left an interesting record of the
manner in which he was treated by the brothers of
the convent, when he visited it in 1801, at which
period it was still in safety and affluence. " Being
introduced," says he, " by a letter to the abbot, and
accompanied by the brother of two Vallombrosans,
I met here a very kind reception. Those amiable
men seem to study hospitality as a profession. People
of all ranks and religions are equally welcome, and
entertained without either officiousness or neglect.
Though the monks then resident were fourteen in
number, their famiglia, including novices, lay-brethren,
menials, and workmen, exceeded a hundred. In
summer, the Foresteria of the abbey is usually full
of strangers ; and, during the winter half-year, all the
indigent neighbours flock here for their daily loaf.
" Such indiscriminate hospitality is, however, but the
virtue of barbarous society. Baneful to industry and
independence, it feeds poor men, but it keeps them
poor; it gives them a lodging, but it weans them
from home. Not that I grudge this community the
means of being so bountiful ; I rather grudge it the
youth, the talents, and the active powers which the
institution entombs : I grudge it the very virtues of

VALLOMBROSA. 161
the men whom I found here. Those virtues tend
only to palliate its defects, and correct its general
influence, by the good which they do in detail.
" These excellent men bring economy to the aid of
beneficence. While they give bread to hundreds,
to themselves they allow but the modest stipend of
eighteen crowns a year : yet the revenues of the
abbey are about 40,000 crowns. Its fattorias are
palaces ; its farms are highly cultivated ; and its
tenantry wealthy : while the institution, by main
taining the same unalterable plan, and training all
its members to the same habits, secures itself from
the misgovernment which a private inheritance is
occasionally exposed to. The private gentleman,
perhaps, spends his time more profitably to the
public revenue. His rents do not return so directly
as the monk's into the mass of the people, which
is the ultimate destination of all property ; but they
return through more taxable channels, through cellars
and shops."

FIESOLE.
A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dim,
And airy tongues that syllable men's names,
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. Milton.
The neighbourhood of Florence is rich in agreeable
associations. Her splendid history fills the mind of
the traveller, as he walks her streets, with images of
the past that will ever make her name glorious. But
memory loves the calm and silent retreats of rural
solitudes. She loves, too, the visions of scenes that
even in their actual existence partook of a spirit
soft and tranquil as her own. In Florence, the
shadowy dream of glory that arises on her path
seems agitated with a still bold and restless spirit.
The genius of her history sits clad in her robe and
cap of liberty, with more of daring than sorrow in
her look, and delighting more in Dante the fierce
Ghibelline, and Lorenzo the magnificent, the father
of Ducal Medici, than in Dante the poet, and Lorenzo
the Platonist. But we pass the gates of the city,
and the soft amenities of stream and shade — the
pleasant farm-lands — the mild variety of hill and
flowery dell, win our thoughts from the images which
had given a hurried motion to the imagination ; and
we begin to enjoy all the luxury of recollections kept

Win&iMEVIS

Lonckm, Published Oct-23, 183", by JeimLrigs & C tinplin. . 5 2 , Choaj side.

fiesole. 163
from being tame by the vicinity of scenes yet haunted
by the grandest of spirits — but deep and tender,
because cherished by the bland tranquillity of nature.
How sweetly does the green hill of Fiesole, with its
cypress and ilex groves, intermingled with the dark
pine, rise before the traveller who has just left the
streets of Florence ! The shades of her greatest men
seem to have accompanied him on the way ; and, as
he enters the calm recesses of the lovely village, and
looks down on the gentle Arno, gliding brightly at
the foot of the mountain, he half thinks himself one
of the little circle of ( philosophers whom the excellent
Lorenzo de' Medici used to assemble here, to renew
the pure and beautiful dreams of Plato's academy.
Both Politian and Milton have spoken with delight
of this enchanting spot. The first of these writers
has described it in Latin verse of the greatest beauty,
and fondly alluded to the pleasure he enjoyed there
with his enlightened patron :
Hie resonat blando tibi pinus amata susurro ;
Hie vaga coniferis insibilat aura cupressis :
Hie scatebris salit, et bullantibus incita venis
Pura coloratos interstrepit unda lapillos.
Talia Faesuleo lentus meditabar in antro,
Rue suburbano medicum, qua mons sacer urbem,
Maeoniam, longique volumina despicit ami,
Qua bonus bospitium felix, placidamque quietem
Indulgens Laurens, Laurens non ultima Phoebi
Gloria, jactatis Laurens fida anchora Musis.
Here thy loved pines with grateful murmurs sigh,
The gale through cypress shades flits whispering by ;
And here from bubbling veins fresh fountains pour
Their waves along the pebbly marbled shore.
M 2

164 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Fiesole ! in these thy rural bowers
How oft I've passed the meditative hours !
Or, wandering 'mid the Medicean groves,
Saw from thy sacred brow where Arno loves
To lead his waves in winding folds along
The fair Masonian city famed for song !
For here Lorenzo, who in Phcebus' train
Might well of glory the best gifts disdain,
Lorenzo, of the muse the sure support,
Oft holds his peaceful, hospitable court.
To an English ear, the mention of Fiesole by Milton
gives it a still higher poetical consecration. It would
be difficult to find, in the whole compass of universal
poetry, a sublimer comparison than that in which its
name thus incidentally occurs :
His ponderous shield,
Etherial temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast ; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening from the top of Fiesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, on her spotty globe.
Nor are the agreeable associations excited by the
allusions of the poets at all weakened in their effect
by the mention made of the philosopher Galileo. It
is the observation of the celebrated D'Alembert, in his
treatise on the Connexion of the Sciences, that, next
to Homer, no man deserved more admiration in the old
world than Archimedes, and that the study of mathe
matics exercises the imagination not less than poetry.
The remark of the French philosopher is one of those
startling propositions which amuse the mind, however
they may fail to convince it ; but there are some

FIESOLE. 165
instances on record which give it a much greater
semblance of truth than we are at first willing to
allow it can at all possess. Galileo on Fiesole, or in
his solitary dwelling at Camaldoli, presented himself
to the musing eye of the poet in a far different light
to that which he appears in to an ordinary thinker.
He who knew that philosophy was " musical as is
Apollo's lute" had an instinctive feeling of the truth,
when the recollection of the calm, bright Fiesole, re
posing in the azure beauty of an Italian night, called
up the vision of Galileo.
We must, however, again turn from these quiet
scenes, and leave poets and philosophers, to meditate
on the busy page of Florentine history, — on the annals
of that city which we must now imagine ourselves
contemplating from the spot where Politian sat, when
he sang the praises of Lorenzo, and looked with
rapture on the pure Arno, gliding, as it were, in the
very light of poetry, among the poplar groves of
the town. In making this transition, we may remark
that Fiesole was not always the tranquil retreat it
now is. It was a considerable place before Florence
or even Rome itself existed. It was on its hills that
Cataline met for the last time the forces of the Senate ;
nor was it till the eleventh century that Florence
subjected its fierce inhabitants to her sway.
Here, therefore, resuming the historical sketch of
Florence and the neighbouring states, we shall take
a rapid view of some of the more remarkable events
which distinguished their early and more chivalrous
career, and which it was found impossible to dwell

166 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
upon in the last volume. The wars with the Pisans,
the strange and daring character of the leaders, and
the restless ambition which engendered dissensions
throughout the whole of the free states of Italy, pre
paring an easy prey for foreign spoliation, — all deserve
to be considered, as the primary sources of those
great political evils and embarrassments which stamped
their future unhappy destiny. Had they rested con
tented within their just and natural boundaries, cul
tivated international peace and security, and vied
with each other in genius, industry, and commercial
enterprise, in place of striking at each other's inde
pendence, Italy would have presented a truly formi
dable barrier to the gigantic growth of modern
despotism in Europe.
It is a good political maxim, that any state which
aims at undue power must sacrifice itself in the
attempt, inasmuch as it is opposed to every ad
mitted law, whether human or divine. This truth was
strikingly exemplified in the Florentine wars with Pisa,
and in the life and actions of one of the chief instru
ments of his own and his country's fall,— Count Ugo-
lino de' Ghirardeschi. He commenced his dark and
turbulent career about the year 1275, when the two
great factions which divided Italy had already involved
in their fanatic zeal and ruthless lust of sway some of
the most distinguished families belonging to different
states. The count, a Guelf by profession, had risen by
degrees to so high a station in his native city as to
direct nearly the whole of its civil and military affairs.

167

It was not long, therefore, ere he fell under the
suspicion of the people; but so little did he give
attention to the murmurs of the storm, that a revolt
was organized by some of the heads of the citizens,
and a general outcry raised for his immediate exile
as an enemy to the public liberty. It was in vain
Ugolino sought to oppose the torrent by the usual
means ; he was overpowered, and compelled to seek
refuge beyond the walls of the city. He instantly
repaired to Florence, and joined the most formidable
and detested foe of his country.
The Florentines were always eager to profit by any
political calamity, and they received the renegade
count with open arms. They even appointed him
Captain-general of a part of their forces : and, as
early as July following, marched upon the Pisan terri
tories, which they laid waste without deigning to
assign the most trivial motive. In this first inroad
they got possession of Vicopisano and some other
castles, after which they returned in triumph to
Florence. The Pisans were the more greatly exas
perated by this insulting attack, from the fact of
its having been conducted at the instigation of a rebel.
They had suffered not a little ; and they prepared for
a speedy revenge. By the month of September they
had collected a tolerable army, and hastened to
retaliate; nor did the Florentines refuse the chal
lenge, and a sharply-contested engagement took
place at Castel d' Asciano. After a great display of
strength and courage on both sides, the Pisans were
routed with tremendous slaughter ; they lost a number

168 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
of prisoners, and the castle fell into the enemy's
hands, and was given by them to the people of Lucca.
Animated by this event, the exiled party, united
with the Florentines, and led by Count Ugolino, again
attacked the Pisans, carrying terror and devastation
wherever they appeared. The political pretext ad
vanced by the invaders was the reinstatement of the
Guelfs in their native city; but their renegade com
mander had far other views.
Too sensible of their inferiority, the Pisans de
clined an open engagement, but employed themselves
in erecting an immense rampart of ditches, to the
extent of more than ten miles, commencing near
Pontadera, and stretching to within a short distance
of Pisa. It was called the Fosso Arnonico, from its
communication with the Amo, and it was fortified
with stockades and tower-guards upon a plan sup
posed to render it impregnable to the enemy.
Perceiving its strength, the Florentines declined an
open attack, and had recourse to stratagem. Having
ascertained there was no point of approach, where it
would be safe to attempt a passage, except that of
its union with the Arno, less watched on account of
its supposed security, they resolved, by making a feint
elsewhere, to carry their whole force on this com
munication. Making a powerful demonstration on
a part most remote from this position, while the
Pisans hurried thither to the attack, the renegade
count with the other chiefs made good their passage,
and, followed by an overwhelming force, fell on the
Pisan army, both in flank and rear, which, struck with

169

surprise, after a heroic struggle and many individual
acts of bravery, was thrown into complete confusion,
with the loss of a large number of prisoners. The
result of this victory on the part of the Florentines
was fatal to the independence of Pisa. Compelled
to sue for peace at the hands of her more powerful
and artful enemy, she was condemned to the humili
ation of restoring the exiled citizens to their rank ;
in particular three of the most obnoxious families —
those of Count Ugolino, the Upezzinghi, and the
Visconti ; besides ceding to the people of Lucca the
two castles of Castiglione and Cotrone.
Thus reinstated in more than his former authority,
the count had the policy to conduct himself with
singular courtesy and moderation, insomuch that
the people, in a short time, began to confide in him,
entrusting to his management some of the most
important negociations in the state. In this laudable
course he persevered until the year 1284, when he was
made admiral of the Pisan fleet, amounting to one
hundred galleys, intended to act against the Genoese.
The naval warfare between these two states had
commenced as early as 1278, the deadly rivalship
having taken its origin in some trivial dispute between
their respective merchants at Constantinople. Such
was the inveteracy with which it was carried on that both
republics put forth their utmost resources to destroy
each other, and had suffered in a nearly equal degree.
The Pisans had last sustained a severe defeat; and,
exasperated at their loss, they made incredible exer
tions to place themselves again upon an equality,

170 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
giving the supreme command to Ugolino, and for
his seconds Andreotto Saracini, and Alberto Morosini,
their Podesta. The flower of their nobility joined
the fleets, and the entire wealth and vigour of the
state were staked upon the enterprise. With this
noble armament the count sailed direct for the port
of Genoa, and there, as a bitter insult to the enemy,
he shot a number of silver arrows into the city, at
the same time challenging and lavishing the most
contemptuous epithets upon the Genoese, for not
coming forth to meet him. The Pisans afterwards
burnt what shipping they found in the port ; and
setting sail for Varale, where they committed the same
depredations, they went and cast anchor at Leghorn.
They had hardly retired when the Genoese admiral
Zaccaria, who had been in search of the Pisans,
appeared in sight. Such was the rage of the Genoese
that they would not allow him to enter the port,
but, calling the whole of their naval force together,
which amounted to one hundred and thirty galleys,
they placed it under the command of Uberto Doria,
with orders to seek out and annihilate the Pisan fleet.
It had then returned to Pisa, but, on learning the
approach of the Genoese, sailed forth amidst the
shouts and acclamations of the whole people. They
met, and joined battle near the rocks of Meloria ; and
all that skill and courage could achieve was brought
into play; little time was allowed for missile and
spear, the ardour being such on both sides as to
impel every vessel to board its rival, and the two fleets
thus grappled presented a scene of combat more

FIESOLE.

171

resembling that on land than upon sea. The conflict
continued thus during many hours, without victory
inclining in favour of either, when, seizing the oppor
tunity, the Genoese concentrated their efforts against
the Pisan capitana; and, having boarded, tore down
her colours, scattering the fragments to the winds,
from which moment the result was no longer doubtful.
Towards the close of the battle, also, the Pisans
were betrayed ; for Ugolino, instead of bearing down
on the enemy with his galleys at the most important
juncture, basely deserted the station he had taken
up, and bore for Pisa, spreading the tidings of a
defeat, which, for the worst political reasons, he had
been mainly instrumental in producing. The com
mander having fled, a total discomfiture was the
result ; twenty-eight galleys remained in the hands
of the Genoese, a large number were sunk, and only
a few dismantled vessels reached the port.
Pisa was thrown into universal despair ; and in
the midst of her sufferings the Count of Ghirardeschi,
having thus treasonably freed himself from most of
his enemies or rivals, resolved to seal his country's
fate by usurping the remains of her freedom. Seizing
the moment when his noblest fellow-citizens had
been consigned to death or captivity, he convoked
the general council, and, under plea of providing for
the public safety, prevailed upon the distracted mem
bers, by motives of fear or interest, to elect him
Capitano delle Masnade, a sort of dictator with
almost absolute dominion.
The next object which Ugolino had in view was

172 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
to confirm himself in his power by promoting an
union between Florence and Pisa; and this he
carried on the grounds of expediency, in order not to
be engaged with enemies both on sea and land, and
to bring over the Florentines to assist them against
Genoa ; but in reality to establish him in his
absolute rule. Wholly indifferent to the welfare or
reputation of his country, he made a disgraceful
compact with Florence, by which Pisa was bound
to deliver up a number of her most important castles,
besides other concessions of a humiliating kind.
Owing also to this treaty, the Genoese pursued their
advantages with far more inveteracy than before,
plundering the unfortunate Pisans whithersoever they
directed their course. The citizens ardently wished
to restore their fleet, and ransom the prisoners ; but
both were opposed by the count as being inimical
to his designs.
Meanwhile, he was engaged in rebuilding the
Tower del Porto, and appointed Guglielmo Alberti,
as his lieutenant ; his next step was to arrogate
the title of Captain of the People, and take up
his residence in the Palace of the Lords, from
which he issued his commands as master of the
city. Marking the change in his deportment, many
of the citizens began to suspect his motives ; in
particular Nino Visconti, the Judge of Gallura, who,
albeit the nephew of Ugolino, was the first to lay
the train for a regular conspiracy. He brought about
a secret meeting of all the Ghibellines who had been
banished from Pisa ; he farther introduced them

FIESOLE, 173
into the castle of Pontadera, which they held on his
account, besides fomenting the civil distractions in
various other districts, and in Pisa itself, until the
whole became divided into two factions, — namely,
those of the judge, and of the count.
It so fell out, that, just at this period, a natural
son of Ugolino, along with several of his follow
ers, killed one Gano Scornigiani, belonging to the
judge's party, and a young man very generally
respected and beloved. So greatly did this incense
his friends, and the party, that a tumult was the
consequence ; and nothing but cries of " Death to
him who will have no peace with Genoa !" was heard
to resound on all sides ; but they were not joined
by any considerable body of the people ; and for
that time the revolt was appeased. The Judge of
Gallura, having failed here, had recourse to other
means ; he sought to exasperate the citizens against
Ugolino, on the ground of his having taken up his
residence at the Palace of the Lords, as a proof of
the tyranny which he was attempting to establish. The
people were on the point of rising in arms, and
were only prevented by several influential men, who,
deprecating their rashness, urged them to delay the
hour. They then submitted that the matter should
come under the jurisdiction of the magistrates and
the Uffiziali delle Arti.
Count Ugolino, dreading open violence, consented
to abide by the decision of the officers, and by them
he was admonished " to reside in his own house like a
good citizen, and not to dictate in the affairs of the

174 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
republic." Dissembling his rage, he obeyed ; but lost
no time in collecting a large body of his partizans
and troops, an example which was as eagerly em
braced by the judge and his followers. At this
juncture the Podesta of Pisa arrested a certain
Coccio di Guido, for contravening the existing law
which forbade the carrying of arms. He was a
relative of Count Ghirardeschi, who, on learning
his imprisonment, sent an order to the Podesta to
release him ; but the latter refused, in the appre
hension that he would by so doing subject himself
to the imputation of being one of his partizans. On
the ensuing night, however, the count, indignant at
this contempt of his authority, took a company of
troops, and, going to the palace, instantly set the
prisoner at liberty ; then, turning the Podesta out
of doors, he ordered his own banners to be hoisted
on the walls ; and, having garrisoned it with his
followers, he retraced his steps to his own house.
Aware that the opposite faction had originated with
the Judge of Gallura, Ugolino now secrelty resolved to
cut him off, whatever should ensue ; and the better to
effect this he listened to the suggestions of the Arch
bishop Ubaldini, a man of some authority, and of a
wily, plotting character, which rendered him as dan
gerous as he was ambitious. He began by throwing
out the strongest insinuations against the judge ; and
they soon came to a perfect understanding as to the
measures to be employed, either to kill, or imprison
him for life. His entire party was to be exiled or
destroyed; and, in order that Ugolino might not be

175

suspected of having any part in these transactions,
he left Pisa, and repaired to Settimo, intrusting the
execution of the plot to Ubaldini.
By great good fortune, the judge received intelligence
of what was going on, and had time to withdraw from
Pisa with the whole of his party, and take possession
of the castle of Calcinaga, in his own jurisdiction.
Hardly had he retreated from the city when the arch
bishop, with a number of his followers, went armed to
the Palace of the Commons, where he fixed his resi
dence as the absolute lord of the city. Intelligence
of the judge's departure no sooner reached the count
than he hastened his return to Pisa, and felt not a
little puzzled and dismayed when he beheld the good
prelate conducting every thing with the hand of a
master. He received a hint that the count was in no
want of a colleague in the government ; but he could
not be made to understand the force of the argument,
the love of reigning, so attractive to every order of
animals, great and small, making him deaf to every
appeal of the kind. The supporters of both sides
now interfered, and it was agreed that the count
should resume the reins of government ; and the
archbishop retired to his usual ecclesiastical residence.
In this manner did Count Ugolino della Ghirardeschi
become absolute lord of Pisa ; and, throwing off the
mask, carried on the public affairs without the inter
vention either of the magistrate or the council. But
the Genoese war still continued to make the count
unpopular; for it was known that, so far from showing
any disposition to restore to their friends the unhappy

176 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
prisoners who lingered in captivity, he used every
effort to foment discord and dissension. The arch
bishop was on the alert to increase the discontent of
the people, being instigated by the deepest hatred
towards the count, for having succeeded in depriving
him, by means of arbitration, of the princely power he
had assumed. His malice might, nevertheless, have
rankled in his own breast, had the count known how to
exercise his new dignity with courtesy and moderation ;
but wanton cruelty has been invariably observed to
follow in the footsteps of successful usurpation. It
was by such means he sought to confirm his authority ;
nor is the doctrine yet exploded,— too many examples
in modern times showing the decided tendency of ill-
won power to sustain itself by any means, and to aim
only at undivided and absolute control.* The first
victim was Anselmo, Count of Capraja, whom he
caused to be strangled on account of his being a
favourite with the people ; and a number of the best
citizens were exiled for the same reason : admitting, by
such acts, that he lived in constant terror of seeing his
self-assumed authority snatched out of his hands.
In the year 1288, the sufferings of the people were
aggravated by a famine, which gave rise to bitter com
plaints, and denunciations against the policy of their
ruler, for neglecting to provide for the arrival of so
great an evil. A nephew of Ugolino, feeling deeply
* As a curious illustration, I may here refer to the absolute C/.ar of all the
Russia?, and to the citizen King of France, both of whom were raised to
their thrones over the heads of the elder and legitimate claimants, and
established as real a despotism as could have been exercised by a Constan
tino or a Charles.

FIESOLE. 177
the public calamity and the reflections upon his uncle,
conversed with him one morning upon the extent of
the evil, advising him to attempt some remedy, while
yet time, to give satisfaction to the public. Scarcely
had the noble-minded youth uttered these words when
the count, suspecting that he wished to cultivate the
favour of the people, in a moment of anger attacked
him with his poignard, crying, " You, too ! would you
rob me of my power !" — and after grievously wounding
would have killed him, had he not been rescued from
his grasp by the attendants.
Among other persons whom the uproar called to the
spot was a nephew of the Archbishop Ubaldini and a
particular friend of the wounded youth. Borne away
by honest indignation, he inveighed bitterly against
Ugolino, reproaching him to his face with the epithet
of a cruel tyrant, which so incensed the brutal count
that, seizing a weapon which lay at hand, he struck
him a blow which laid the speaker dead at his
feet. The body, Vbathed as it was in gore, was car
ried forthwith to the residence of the archbishop,
who on first beholding it was struck speechless, and
so remained gazing upon the corpse of his favourite
nephew, with fixed eye and quivering lip, but with
out shedding a tear. At length, recovering his
recollection, and mastering the rising indignation
of his soul, he turned to the spectators, and, with
the singular cunning and presence of mind which
marked his plotting genius, he observed, " This is not
the body of my nephew, and I know Count Ugolino
to be incapable of such an act ; you would deceive

178 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
me ; take it away, and never let me hear mention of it
again !"
But, like a secret and suppressed fire, which only
requires more air and space to burst forth with
irresistible fury, the hate and deep-seated revenge of
the prelate burnt only the more intensely within.
Brooding over schemes of horrible retaliation, he, for
some days, appeared perfectly serene and cheerful, and
at the end of that time he called together a few of
his most confidential friends. He then gave a loose
to his feelings, heaping upon Ugolino every re
proach which his most violent, unnatural, and cruel
tyranny could dictate to injured man. Such was the
effect of his appeal on those who heard it, as to lead
them to adopt the resolution of freeing the country
from the yoke, or perishing in the attempt. The con
spiracy spread with incredible rapidity, and such was
the secrecy preserved that the tyrant had not the least
intimation of its existence. After various consulta
tions, it was agreed the first day of July should
witness their deliberate assembly in the church of San
Bastiano, where the declaration of peace with the
Genoese, and the ransom of their fellow-citizens,
should be unanimously given out. It was expected
that the council of the magistrates, and the heads of
the useful arts, would attend ; and on the arrival of the
day, in the presence of Ugolino, the questions were
brought forward in the church. After a considerable
discussion, however, nothing was resolved upon, and
the meeting was dissolved. Perceiving that nothing
had been done, it was resolved by the heads of the

FIESOLE. 179
people to call another council on the same morning, —
to come to some decisoin before the count should
anticipate their movement. This excited his suspicion ;
he dispatched one of his sons to assemble the whole
of the Guelfs in arms, which no sooner reached the
ears of the archbishop than he summoned the con
spirators, and informed them that they must instantly
rush to arms. The call was obeyed, and the heads of
the people traversed the streets, every where bearing
the republican banners, and uttering the astounding
shouts of " Long live the people ! Death to the tyrant
and the traitor — Count Ugolino !" — and, while the air
rung with their cries, the great bells, sounded only in
times of extreme emergency, began to peal, and the
people to pour forth in throngs.
The fearful tocsin struck upon the ear of the tyrant ;
but he was not dismayed. With the few partizans,
and the troops he had mustered, he made a gallant
defence, and more than once met the fury of the citi
zens, beating it back upon their own heads. The
struggle soon became general, and was carried on with
resolute desperation in different parts of the city :
every street was a field of battle, and every house a
fortress ; and it was long before victory declared itself.
But nothing could resist the increasing enthusiasm of
the citizens ; they fought against a tyrant, and the
partizans of his cause began to waver,, while more and
more rushing to the aid of the archbishop, the count
was compelled to retire to his palace, where he fortified
himself as well as he could. The archbishop, without
allowing the enthusiasm of the people to subside,
n 2

180 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
called upon them instantly to raze the palace to the
ground, and he himself led on a powerful body to take
it by storm. It was then that desperation and fear of
a worse death led the assailed to make efforts almost
superhuman ; they repulsed the people repeatedly with
immense loss ; but the archbishop, still undismayed,
invoked the citizens to bring fire to the aid of the
sword, and burn the palace and the tyrant together.
He was obeyed ; immense piles of wood were heaped
about the base, and these, being ignited round about
the gates and doors, were thrown on all sides over the
walls. There was no valour could stand the test of
such an attack. The besieged party yielded to their
fate ; the palace was burnt ; and Count Ugolino, his
two nephews, and two sons of tender age, with many
more, were made prisoners ; among whom the tyrant
himself was consigned to close captivity. The Pisans,
having thus thrown off the yoke, began to re-organize
their government. This done, they banished all the
relatives of their former ruler, while they levelled his
splendid palace along the Arno with the ground.
Lastly, they took into consideration in what manner
they should dispose of their terrific prisoner, and of
his sons and nephews. The archbishop, still mindful
of the loss of his nephew, desired, as a favour, that the
care of the prisoner and his relatives might be in
trusted to him, if they thought they were in any way
indebted to him for their newly-acquired liberties ; it
was granted, and the prisoners were placed in his
hands. There was an old tower, belonging to the Casa

181

Gualandi, situated in a square called the Sette Vie, or
Seven Ways ; and the tower itself was accustomed
to go by the same name ; since called the Tower of
Famine. There the archbishop commanded one of
the interior chambers to be prepared, with strong iron
work extending over the whole walls, for the dungeon
of the prisoners. When completed, he had them
escorted thither under a strong guard, — namely, Count
Ugolino himself, his two sons, and two young
nephews. Being enclosed in this living grave, he is
said to have locked the door, and there leaving them
to die of famine to have thrown the key into the Arno.
This is the terrific tragedy which has been described in
such grand and forcible colours by the greatest of
Italy's poets.
Such was the lamentable end of Ugolino and his
unfortunate family, a fate which powerfully illustrates
the observation of Tacitus, that " governments based
upon violence are never of long duration."
To quit this fearful episode : it was long before
Pisa fell under the power of her more successful
rival. Florence had been engaged in a series of strug
gles with the tyrants of Lombardy, being nearly the
only republic which had preserved her freedom up to
the close of the fourteenth century. The possession of
Pisa, Leghorn, and Porte Pisano, would consolidate her
freedom, and was become the object of all her efforts.
It was as strenuously opposed by the Genoese, until
a new doge, in the interest of the King of France,
determined upon making the liberty of Pisa an article
of traffic. He agreed to sell it to the Florentines for the
sum of 400,000 florins ; but the Pisans rose, disarmed

182 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
the garrison of the Lombard tyrants, and ~ made
themselves masters of the city gates. The Genoese
governor, who still possessed the citadel and castles, in
conjunction with Gabriel Maria, then lessened the
demand, and required only 206,000, which he re
ceived from the Florentines. Half of this sum he was
to pay to his colleague ; but, instead of fulfilling his
engagement, he charged him with a plot against the
King of France, and caused him to be beheaded.
Having thus become possessed of so many strong
places, the Florentines offered the most favourable
terms for the submission of Pisa. But the citizens,
with a republican pride worthy their oldest exploits,
answered only by laying siege to the citadel, which
they retook at the point of the sword. They then
demanded peace, offering to reimburse the money paid
by the Florentines ; consenting, at the same time, to
recall from banishment Giovanni Gambacorta, long
favoured by their rival, and name him Captain of
the People. But Florence required submission, not
peace ; and the indignant Pisans again flew to arms.
They made incredible exertions to meet the Floren
tines in the open field, by employing their entire wealth
in purchasing the services of the bravest Condottieri,
whom they collected from every quarter, and mingled
in the ranks of their own devoted and patriotic de
fenders. The Florentines pressed on the war with extra
ordinary vigour ; but it was not till the expiration of a
year that they were enabled to possess themselves suc
cessively of all the Pisan fortresses and territory ;
until they were at length closely besieged within the
walls of the city. During the campaign of 1406, the

FIESOLE. 183
siege had been turned into a blockade ; but no priva
tions could subdue the spirit of this heroic people,
even when sickness and famine were added to the
severity of their lot. Unhappily for them, an equal
degree of heroism was not evinced by the chief they
had selected for his high talent. Gambacorta entered
into a secret treaty with Florence ; for the sum of
50,000 florins, and the county of Bagno, he consented
to open the gates of Pisa to her rival, — an act of
treachery which took place on the nights of the eighth
and ninth of November, 1406. The Florentines sought
to reconcile the vanquished citizens to their fate by
every means in their power ; provisions in large quan
tities were distributed by the hands of the soldiers to the
people ; but great numbers of the noblest citizens dis
dained to live under the yoke, and removed with their
families to other states. The young men even left the
army to enlist in foreign service ; and the republic Of
Florence confirmed for a time her own freedom by de
stroying that of a rival. But the succeeding century
witnessed her own fall, and by the arms of a family
once her proudest ornaments and defenders. After the
banishment of Pietro de' Medici, Girolamo Savona
rola, a Dominican monk distinguished for his eloquence
and energy of character, assumed the popular dic
tatorship of the city. The Signoria was filled with
his partizans, and the anathemas of the papal court
were hurled at him without effect. The pontiff had at
length recourse to another plan ; he sent a Franciscan
monk of Puglia to challenge Savonarola on his own
ground ; to strike boldly at his reputation from the

184 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
arena of the pulpit itself. Eager for the conflict,
Francesco repaired to the church of Santa Croce,
where he proclaimed that his adversary had boasted he
could prove the truth of his discourses by the power of
miracles. He was far, he said, from wishing to tempt
providence, but to rid the world of so wicked and
confirmed a heretic, he would challenge Savonarola to
the trial of fire, by mounting along with him upon a
burning pile. Savonarola asked if he thought him
mad ! — and he flatly refused the offer ; but Bonvicini,
one of his disciples, coming forward, as readily
accepted it.
At this announcement the joy and enthusiasm of
the people knew no bounds ; they were to behold a
miraculous confirmation of the sanctity' of their leader's
opinions, and the humiliation of all his enemies. The
papal party, on the other hand, feeling convinced that
Bonvicini was inflammable enough to burn, made sure
of striking also a death-blow at the ascendancy of the
popular power of his patron. Till the period arrived,
suspense and excitement arose to the highest pitch.
Bonvicini had committed himself, while Francesco
declared that he would not undergo the trial, except in
company with his rival Savonarola. The fanatic zeal of
their followers was as great as the caution of their
chiefs ; and numbers claimed the honour of martyr
dom, while the pope declared that the memory of so
glorious an act would reflect lustre upon the Franciscan
order to the remotest generations.
The same zeal spread to the senate, which appointed
Rondinelli, of the order of St. Francis, to stand the test

against Bonvicini. The day fixed upon was the seventh
of April, 1798 ; and the place, the public square.
A scaffolding of five feet in height, ten in breadth,
and fifty long, covered with chalk, and having in the
centre an opening two feet wide, down which the
zealots were to throw themselves, was prepared in
public view. The entire population of the city and
surrounding territory were gathered to behold this
tremendous scene. The Loggia of the Lanzi was
staked off, and prepared for the reception of the church
militants of their respective orders, and a bridge of
wood was made to communicate between the scaffold
and the lodge.
The Franciscans first advanced in perfect silence to
occupy the tent appointed them ; while the Domini
cans, with Savonarola at their head, came singing
psalms, and bearing the cross, with the consecrated host
in a crystal vessel. They were followed by an immense
throng, who joined with the utmost fervour in the holy
hymn, till the air resounded with their enthusiastic
voice. The details being adjusted, the Franciscans objected
to Bonvicini wearing any apparel, lest it should con
ceal some sorcery against the power of fire ; but the
hero of his order submitted to the strictest search.
All was ready : Savonarola placed the consecrated
host in his disciple's hands, while the others exclaimed
against the profaneness of risking its consumption in
the flames. The cries of the populace, eager for the
great act of faith, mingled with the loud psalmody of
the Dominicans, produced a strange sentiment of wild,

186 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
religious awe ; but Savonarola was inflexible in sup
plying his disciple with the shield of the holy host.
The Franciscans opposed it; and during this keen
dispute there fell an immense flood of rain, which not
only saturated the funeral pile, but the patience of
the people, who soon dispersed on every side. Such,
however, was their rage at conceiving themselves
deluded by the obstinacy of Savonarola, as to change
their admiration into hatred and contempt ; the spell
of his eloquence and sanctity was lost ; and the result
proved as fatal to the illustrious Dominican as to the
cause of public liberty itself. Only a few days subse
quent, the party of the Medici triumphed ; they attacked
the convent of St. Mark ; took prisoners Savonarola
and Bonvicini ; changed the Signoria, and opened the
gates to the exiles. The funeral pile was now again
prepared ; no mock-martyrdom was the question, and
both the patron and his disciple were placed upon
the same terrific scaffold ; no appeal was heard ; and,
in the flames that consumed the body of Savonarola,
the popular freedom of the Florentines may also be
said to have expired.
The reign of the Medicean princes, thus fearfully
commenced, was stained with tragedies of a no less
revolting nature, whether perpetrated in their own
families, or upon the unhappy people under their sway.
The same family — once the boast, the benefactors of
their country, and the defenders of her public liber
ties — became a race of petty tyrants ; for when
man, however free and noble-minded, is transformed
into that sanguinary idol of popular ignorance — an

FIESOLE. 187
irresponsible ruler, and invested with the trappings of
royalty, he loses all sympathy with common humanity;
and from spilling the blood of his subjects with impu
nity by public declaration of wars, or wholesale
executions, the transition to shedding that of ob
noxious relatives, when no earthly responsibility awaits
him, is no more difficult to the mind of the despot
than for the Juggernaut to roll indiscriminately over
the necks of its victims.
It was thus with the Medici, and with every royal
family that has boasted the possession of supreme power
in the annals of Europe, whether in more barbarous or
in more refined times. Some of these princely atroci
ties, after the constitutional liberties of the states of
Europe had been treacherously overturned, as was
attempted in England by Charles I., have already been
exposed; and on the subject of Florence, the Poland
of popes and emperors, such revolting atrocities would
have no end. I shall singly glance at some events con
nected with the fate of the celebrated Bianca Capello.
A young Florentine named Bonaventuri, an agent for
the house of the Salviati at Venice, saw and loved the
fair Bianca. The palace of her noble family was
situated opposite his own dwelling ; he frequently saw
her at the balcony ; and such was the origin of their
mutual and fervent passion. She was watched, how
ever, like the garden of the Hesperides, with dragon-
care ; the lover could reach it only — like Jove his
Danae — by means of a golden shower, which, in short,
nightly descended upon a small gate of the edifice,
when the dragons were charmed to sleep. Not few, but

188 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
brief and rapturous, were the interviews thus obtained.
To avoid death, or dishonour, — and perhaps both, — the
lovers were soon induced to take to flight ; and they
sought refuge in Florence. Imagine the scorn and
rage of an aristocracy like Venice, — one of whose
members had been thus stabbed to its very heart of
honour, — so deeply contaminated by a simple citizen of
Florence ! There they wed, and became objects of
popular curiosity, which prided itself on so gallant
a feat. The situation of the lovers was little removed
from penury ; and the surpassing beauty of the young
lady was soon bruited in the ears of the reigning
prince. Francesco had just returned from Spain, and
found no difficulty about an introduction. She took
his fancy ; she stood in need of protection, and he
gave it, declaring they need no longer be in dread of
the indignation of the Capello family. He assigned
them a palace, took Bonaventuri into his confidence,
and soon excited the observation of the court. Every
mark of pomp and dignity was lavished on Bianca ;
perhaps she had loftier views, for one night her hus
band was found assassinated in the public way. Soon
after, Giovanna of Austria, the grand duke's consort,
died suddenly ; and Bianca succeeded to her title and
dignity. At the same time there arrived two senators,
and the patriarch of Aquileia, deputed by the republic
of Venice to assist at the celebration of the nuptials,
who read a senatorial decree, declaring the Capello
a daughter of San Marco, an honour never before
bestowed, except in the instance of Caterina Cornaro,
when she became Queen of Cyprus.

FIESOLE. 189
The new grand duchess was generally disliked by
the people of Tuscany. Again, the sudden death of
the duke's only son by his former consort, much
beloved by the people, was naturally enough attributed
to the malignant arts of a step-mother, to secure the
succession of her own offspring. But their union was
unfruitful, though it was industriously reported that
Bianca had recourse even to spells and sorcery of the
most fearful description to become a mother. Being
here too foiled, she tried fraud and imposture ; she
affected the progress of a pregnant state, and sub
stituted a child of obscure parents for a legitimate
prince of the Tuscan throne. It was discovered, and
she was compelled to own that she had attempted to
graft a base-born peasant on a princely stock. Such,
however, was the duke's infatuation that her influence
continued undiminished, while the Cardinal Ferdinand
de' Medici, the next heir, witnessed with indignation
the conduct both of her and his brother. He had
resided till the year 1587 at Rome, when, at the re
peated instance of the duke, he was prevailed upon to
repair to Florence. He took the delightful country
seat of Poggio Cajano, the better to join in the chase ;
but the scene of rural festivity was soon changed into
one of terror and grief. On the eighth of October the
duke was seized with a fever, pronounced by the phy
sicians to be the severest form of ague. Two days
after, Bianca was taken ill in a precisely similar man
ner. The duke's thirst was excessive, and most tor
menting ; he declared that his throat and stomach
were parched — were on fire ; he could take only the

190 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
most cold and gelatinous drinks. On the ninth day,
the disease grew more alarming, and, after medical art
had exhausted its efforts, he died in torture at the age
of forty-seven. Before his decease he called his
brother to his couch, entreated his pardon, invested
him with the ducal power, and recommended his con
sort and attendants to his care. Meantime, rumour
was busy with the name of Bianca, but she too was
in extreme suffering ; and when informed of the duke's
death she lost her reason, and soon after expired in
great pain. This simultaneous decease gave rise to
the most strange and contradictory reports ; the car
dinal was accused of having poisoned them, and even
evidence of the fact is said to have appeared of having
prevented the proper antidotes being administered,
and of giving with his own hand the mixture which
deprived his brother and his sister of life.
The character of Ferdinand, however, in some
measure, refutes the charge ; there are no grounds
sufficiently strong to load his memory with so heavy a
crime, though the circumstances appear extremely
suspicious. His reign was favourable to Tuscany ;
he protected commerce and the arts, founded the
Port of Leghorn, and carried the marine to a high
degree of power and discipline. Ferdinand, son of
Cosmo II. , survived him only a short period, and was
succeeded by Ferdinand II. , who governed for a space
of forty-nine years. He was a weak prince ; his
apathy and languor seemed to extend to the character
of his subjects. Cosmo III. assumed the ducal dig
nity in 1670, narrow-minded, superstitious, and timid.

191

His cruelty towards his consort, Margherita of Orleans,
and her flight to France, presents the sole episode of
his reign that preserves his history from a blank. Gio
vanni Gastone, the last grand duke of the Medicean
house, died without issue ; and the great European
powers, as at present, amused themselves with proto
cols and conventions relating to the succession. By
such means the house of Lorraine assumed the sway of
Tuscany ; and so feebly and despicably closed the
career of the descendants of the great Cosmo and
Lorenzo de' Medici.

VAL DI MAGRA.
Apri gli orecchi al mio annunzio, e odi :
Pistoia in pria di Negri si dimagra,
Poi Firenze rinnuova genti e modi.
Tragge Marte vapor di val di Magra,
Ch' e di torbidi nuvoli involuto ;
E con tempesta impctuosa ed agra
Sovra Campo Picen fia combattuto,
Ond' ei repente spezzera la nebbia,
Si che ogni Bianco ne sar;v feruto :
E detto r ho perche doler ten' ebbia. Dante, Inf. C. XXIV.
The river Magra takes its source in Monte Orsajo,
on the Appennine, and discharges itself into the Medi
terranean, under Capo Corvo, a little below Sarzana.
A chain of mountains divides itself into two, forming
a circle, from the Cisa of Cpntremoli, more or less
wide, and across it runs the Magra. At Filattiera a
large valley opens itself to view, where the tops of the
surrounding mountains are crowned with castles.
From one of these, Mulazzo, the torrent Caprio is seen
foaming and rushing to unite itself to the Magra ;
and lower down appears the Bagnore, gliding along
the rock on which Villa Franca is situated. All
the country, right and left of the Magra, forms what
is called the Val di Magra; and nothing can be
imagined more grand, more majestic, or more truly
romantic, than that part of the Appennines so little
visited by travellers. The mountains are covered

? G

VAL DI MAGRA. 193
with olive-trees, from which is obtained the oil which
forms the principal revenue of the inhabitants, and
which is considered, when pure and of the right quality,
the best in Italy.
The historical recollections attached to Val di Magra
are splendid, and form one of the most remarkable
group of events in the history of Italy. All the
castles in the Val di Magra, as well as Massa and
Carrara, which are close by it, belonged at one time
to the Malaspina family, one of the most influen
tial if not the most ancient in Italy, and which con
tended with the house of Este both in power and
nobility. Branches of the family are still existing in
Italy ; and, up to the French revolution, Fosdinovo,
Aulla, and other castles of Val di Magra, belonged
to a Marquis Malaspina, who held them with sove
reign authority, as an imperial Marquisate, or Feudi
Imperiali of Lunigiana. The ancient Luni, now
destroyed, was in Val di Magra ; and its ruins are
still to be seen, a little lower down than Sarzana, on
the Magra ; hence the province is generally called
Lunigiana. The most glorious of all recollections of which a
Malaspina may be proud is that attaching to Lunigiana,
and the castle of Mulazzo ; Dante in exile was nobly
received by the then head of that powerful house.
They were generally Ghibellines, although one of
them, Morello, or Maurello, was leader of the Negri
in 1301, when he defeated the Bianchi. It is to him
that Dante alludes in the lines quoted in the motto,
calling him a " vapor di Val di Magra." Dante was
o

194 the landscape annual.
not, however, useless to his noble host ; for it was
by the poet's negociations that Franceschino Malas
pina, Lord of Mulazzo, succeeded in concluding a
treaty of peace with Antonio, Bishop of Luni, in
1306; a circumstance which we remark as unnoticed
by Dante's biographers, and which can be proved by
an original deed existing in the archives of Sarzana.
The gratitude of Dante towards the Malaspina family
was unbounded ; and it is even said, with some pro
bability, that the second part of his Commedia, — that
is the Purgatorio, was dedicated to the above-men
tioned Morello, on whose lady, Alagia, of the noble
family Fieschi, of Lavagna, the poet passes a most
pleasing and flattering compliment, putting the
following words in the mouth of Pope Adrian, her
uncle : Nepote ho io di la che ha nome Alagia,
Buona da se, pur che la nostra casa
Non faccialei per esemplo malvagia;
E questa sola m' e di la rimasa Purg. C. XX.
The most splendid compliment paid to any family
by Dante was that to the house of Malaspina, towards
the end of the eighth canto of the Purgatorio. Dante
there finds Currado Malaspina, a highly distinguished
individual of the family, who puts some questions
about Val di Magra to the poet. Hence occurs the
following singular dialogue :
Se la lucerna, che ti mena in alto,
Truovi nel tuo arbitrio tanta cera,
Quant 'e mestiero in sino al sommo smalto,

VAL DI MAGRA. 195
Comincio ella :* se novella vera
Di Val di Magra, o di parte vicina
Sai ; dilla a me, che gia grande la era.
Chiamato fui Currado Malaspina .
Non son l'antico, ma da lui discesi :
A miei portai 1' amor che qui rafnna.
0, dissi lui, per li vostri paesi
Giammai non fui ; ma dove si dimora
Per tutta Europa, ch' ei non sien palesi ;
La fama, che la vostra casa onora,
Grida i Signori, e grida la contrada,
Si che ne sa chi non vi fu ancora.
Ed io vi giuro, s' io di sopra vada,
Che vostra gente onrata non si sfregia
Del pregio della borsa, e della spada.
Uso, e natura si la pri vile gia,
Che perche '1 capo reo lo Mondo torca,
Sola va dritta, e '1 mal cammin dispregia.
Ed egli : Or va : che '1 Sol non si ricorca
Sette volte nel letto, che '1 Montone
Con tutti e quattro i pie cuopre, ed inforca,
Che cotesta cortese opinione
Ti fia chiavata in mezzo della testa,
Con maggior chiovi che d' altrui sermone ;
Se corso di giudicio non s' arresta.
* That is, the soul of Currado Malaspino.

o 2

LA SPEZZIA.
Methought we went
Along the utmost edge of this, our world ;
But soon the 6urges fled, and we descried,
Nor dimly, though the lark was silent yet,
Thy gulf, La Spezzia ! Rogers' " Italy."
The Gulf of Spezzia presents one of the most
animating prospects to be seen on the coasts of the
Mediterranean. As a marine station, it was so highly
regarded by Buonaparte that he had formed the
intention of establishing there the arsenal for his
fleets ; while the neighbouring country, distinguished
for fertility, and variegated in the most pleasing
manner by hills covered with vines, and numerous
well-built villas and hamlets, speaks encouragingly of
the prosperity of its inhabitants. The only fault
which the most practised eyes have found with the
prospects presented by La Spezzia, is a certain degree
of uniformity or heaviness in the hills to the north
of the gulf; but the ingenious writer, who makes this
remark, adds at the same time that the scenery is
every where beautiful, and alludes to the rich chesnut-
groves and olive-grounds which, on the south side of
the bay, are intermingled with its spreading vineyards.
One, however, of the most remarkable objects in
the vicinity of Spezzia is the fountain of fresh water
which springs up in the sea, about a mile from the

LA SPEZZIA. 197
shore. Such is the force with which the spring rises
that the fresh water causes a sort of mound, of near
twenty feet in circumference, on the surface of the
waves. The population of Spezzia consists of about four
thousand persons of various classes; but those of
the lowest orders exhibit a strange contrast, by their
poverty and wretchedness, to the fertility and cheer
fulness with which nature has surrounded them.
My friend Dr. James Johnson, in his very able and
highly useful work,* notices, with the enthusiasm of a
genuine tourist, the effects of the scenery on first
approaching the neighbourhood of Spezzia and its
bay. " We were crossing," he observes, " the Magra
before the least glimpse of day-light was visible — our
little buona bestia appearing quite familiar with the
ferry-boat. Hence we ascended through a romantic
country, where the olive and the vine are perpetually
contending for the mastery, — till the Gulf of Spezzia
burst on the enraptured sight. The indescribable
beauties of this bay are seen from various and
advantageous points of view, but from none better
than from the hill which we ascend after passing
through the town itself, which is delightfully situated
close to the shore. From the terraced and olive-clad
hill over Spezzia, the eye wanders away by Lerici
towards Leghorn, shifting from promontory to promon
tory, with unceasing delight. In the north-western
* " Change of Air, or the Diary of a Philosopher in Pursuit of Health
and Recreation," &c., &c. Second edition. 1831. It is not, as its title
would import, merely a vade mecum to the invalid ; but full of sprightly,
amusing, and shrewd remark.

198 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
direction, the headlands and mountains, about the
harbour of Spezzia, contrast finely with the magnifi
cent sheet of ocean glittering under a meridian sun.
"Taking a parting look at this enchanting gulf,
we plunge away into a wild but romantic scene
of mountains and valleys, till we arrive at the bed
of the roaring Magra, where the new road winds
along the brinks of yawning precipices, while the
foaming river is heard chafing against the rocks
beneath. This road is not yet finished, and there
are few parapet walls or stones ; but the eye soon
becomes familiarized to paths along the most perpen
dicular cliffs, when travelling among the Alpine
regions. On approaching Borghetto, situated in a wild and
savage-looking country, we encountered one of those
mountain-torrents so common in Italy, and which
was foaming down a steep course, and falling into
the Magra within a hundred yards of the place
where we were to cross. The torrent had evidently
been momentarily swelled by some rain that fell
among the mountains, and, though narrow, appeared
to me to be rather dangerous. Galliardi was of a
different opinion, and drove boldly into the stream.
By the time we reached the deepest part of the bed
the water began to curl into the carricello, and the
buona bestia was unequivocally tottering, and even
lifted occasionally off the bottom. I saw at once
that we were in imminent peril, and instantly threw
off my cloak to swim for it. At this moment Galli
ardi sprang from the shaft into the torrent, and,

La SPEZZIA. 199
floundering like a grampus, reached the farther bank
in a twinkling, leaving me and the mule to shift for
ourselves ! Seeing the Magra roaring along within
a few yards on our right, and not wishing to leave
my bones in that river at this time, I was in the point
of following Galliardi's example, when he bawled
out to me to keep my seat. I should have paid
very little deference to this advice, being conscious
that I could swim tolerably well, but, at this critical
moment, the poor animal, lightened of half its load,
and apparently encouraged by the sight of its master
on dry land, made two or three desperate plunges,
and obtained firm footing on the shelving bank, where
Galliardi vigorously assisted him in dragging the
carricello and myself out of the water. I confess that
this little aquatic excursion gave me no great relish for
the new road, although Galliardi assured me that I
should become quite reconciled to such incidents,
especially between Genoa and Nice."

GENOA.
'Twas where o'er the sea
Delicious gardens hung ; green galleries
And marble terraces in many a flight,
And fairy arches flung from cliff to cliflF,
Wildering, enchanting ; and, above them all,
A palace, such as somewhere in the East —
In Zenastan, or Araby the blest,
Among its golden groves and fruits of gold,
And fountains scattering rainbows in the sun —
Rose, when Aladdin rubbed the wond'rous lamp.
Rogers' " Italy."
Mihi nunc Ligus ora,
Intepet, hybernatqne mare. Persius.
The traveller who has wandered with delight through
the rich valleys of the south, looks with as keen a
glance at the beauties of a colder clime as he who has
never left the regions of his northern birth-place.
There is a charm in the far, wide wanderings, to which
disposition and circumstance sometimes impel men,
that none but such travellers can experience to the
full. At home we have to wait for the change of
seasons ; to watch long and anxiously for nature's
putting on the garb in which we love her best ; but let
us go forth, and far enough, and we find her awaiting
us in her shrine, her golden sceptre held out in token
of peace, the hours clad in the very livery of our
hearts, and the scene decked out as our inmost
thoughts would have it appear. But the transition from
one class of scenery to another affects the traveller

|f$&&*

GENOA. 201
with a feeling- of pleasure unknown to others. It is he
who has had the sinews of his imagination braced by
the sublimest prospects that can enjoy with the most
deep delight the beauty of the calmest. Autumn is
only sad from the recollection of spring ; and the ice-
peaked mountain is beheld with liveliest emotion when
it rises from the midst of glowing plains. Bright and
beautiful then is Genoa, on her bold sea-beaten cliff,
to him who comes from the bowers of Pausolipo, or
the plains of majestic and once luxurious Paestum.
The very personification of a free state, she sits
looking upon the broad, mighty, ocean, that roars at
her feet, unchanged in appearance, since the time
when she spoke and was obeyed in the farthest east.
The winds that freshen her seas still seem to fill her
with the old republican spirit; and the traveller who
recollects, with a sigh, dejected Venice, and the grass-
grown streets of Ferrara, and mysterious Rome, will
rejoice in her air of freedom and vigour, even though
there is a mingling of doubt in the pleasure.
All who have written descriptions of Genoa agree
in expressing the highest admiration of her appearance
from without. The noble bay which she overlooks is
formed by an amphitheatre of rocky hills, rising above
each other in rude and naked majesty. Amid these
rough and precipitous crags is seen, on one side of
the semi-circle, the strong and crowded city, and on
the other a succession of smiling villas, with their
gardens and orchards blooming healthily as the gar
dens of the north in a genial summer. It is, however,
as generally allowed, that the interior of Genoa

202 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
corresponds but little with its external appearance. Of
its numerous streets three only — namely, the Strada
Balbi, Strada Nuova, and Strada Novissima — are in
any way worthy of attention. The rest are little
better than lanes, and the noble palaces of which many
of them consist are crowded together like hovels in
the worst parts of other cities. But it is not only of
space that the Genoese have been parsimonious in the
structure of their edifices. The churches, though not
admired for architecture, are ornamented both within
and without in the most costly manner. The same
remark holds good of the mansions of the nobility.
Marble, and gold, — paintings, statues, and tapestry,
are employed with almost unlimited profusion in their
decoration. The Durazzo palace is one of the most
splendid in Europe ; and Mr. Eustace states that the
Emperor Joseph, who was lodged there during a short
visit to Genoa, observed, " that it far surpassed any he
was master of." On the outside, this magnificent
building presents a front which, both in length and
elevation, is scarcely equalled by that of any other
edifice of the kind ; while the interior- — with its stair
case, each step of which is a solid block of the pre
cious Carrara marble,— its galleries and vast saloons,
filled with the grandest productions of art, and covered
with gilding unsurpassed for splendour, — conveys the
idea that it must have been the established residence
of a wealthy monarch rather than that of a merchant-
nobleman. There are several other palaces of almost
equal magnificence in the city, such as those of Doria,
Domenico Serra, and that in which the doge is at

203

present lodged, all of which are remarkable either for
the extent or the splendour of their apartments.
Of the public buildings, the church di Carignano is
the most worthy of notice. This beautiful structure,
which owes its existence to the piety and munificence
of a single nobleman, is built on the summit of the
hill from which it takes its name ; and the approach to
it is over a bridge, built by the same individual, and
spanning a deep chasm, which, before the bottom and
sides were covered as they now are with houses, must
have had an awful appearance. The church itself
stands in the midst of a small plantation, is built in
the form of a square, and ornamented with Corinthian
pillars, and a dome rising above two towers. It is
not, however, for the style of its architecture, but for
its situation, that this edifice is so much admired.
It is every way grand and picturesque ; and, from its
dome, the prospect spreads before the eye of the spec
tator in boundless magnificence and beauty. The
extent which the city and its suburbs occupy is very
distinctly marked out by its double line of fortifica
tions. Of the two walls which surround it, the outer
one forms a circuit of twelve miles, the other takes in
a space of about half that extent, and both are pro
tected by towers and batteries of great strength, and
most formidable appearance.
As there are no antiquities to amuse the traveller in
Genoa, he is obliged to concentre his feelings and sym
pathy within the range of its modern history. What
ever he sees around him brings to his mind the idea
of wealth, but the wealth of individuals rather than of

204 THE LANPSCAPE ANNUAL.
the state. The palace of Andrea Doria is the most
interesting edifice of an historic kind, but its magnifi
cence is of the same character as that of other palaces
belonging to noble families ; it owes all the grandeur
with which the imagination endows it to the single cir
cumstance of its having been the residence of the
Doge Doria. The three hundred years that have passed
since the time when that celebrated man flourished here
have scarcely bestowed upon it the first shade of hoar
antiquity, and it requires, perhaps, some effort of the
mind to recal, at the sight of any Genoese building,
the image of its former grandeur as a state. Mr.
Hazlitt has observed, in speaking of Italy in general,
" that it is not favourable to the look of age, or of
length of time. The fervours of the climate are less
fatal ; the oldest places seem rather deserted than
mouldering into ruin, and the youth and beauty of
surrounding objects mixes itself up even with the traces
of devastation and decay. The monuments of an
tiquity appear to enjoy a green old age in the midst of
the smiling productions of modern civilization. The
gloom of the seasons does not, at any rate, add its
weight to the gloom of antiquity." In Genoa, some
portion of this observation will strike the traveller as
just as it is ingenious ; but if it were true, as applied
to Italy in general, it would be so in respect to other
countries, where the climate is equally pure and
sparkling, and nature as ready to pour forth her
exuberant treasures. It would be as true in Greece
as in Italy, and in almost all the countries of the
glowing east, or the luxurious south ; but it would be

205

difficult, it is probable, to find a traveller willing to
hazard the assertion that such is the case. Few
people have greater reason to complain of the unchar
itable conduct of writers than the Genoese. From
Virgil down to Mrs. Starke, it has been a favourite
custom to represent them as " born to cheat;" but in
contradistinction to these accusations, we have the
testimony of more than one traveller, of the highest
credit, to their industry and great benevolence. Mr.
Eustace relates that " the noble family of Lugara
were accustomed to lot out each day a sum equivalent
to thirty- two pounds English, in providing food for
all the poor who came to claim it. Another noble
man," he adds, " having no heirs, devoted his whole
property, even during his own life, to the foundation
of an asylum for orphan girls, who, to the number of
five hundred, were educated and provided with a set
tlement for life, either married or single, at their
option." The numerous hospitals which exist in the
city prove the same fact, so creditable to the character
of the Genoese. Of these establishments the Albergo
dei Poveri is one of the most deservedly celebrated.
Nearly three thousand poor persons, including those
of mature age and orphan children, are sheltered
within its walls ; while the judicious rules by which its
unfortunate inmates are preserved from contracting
habits of indolence do equal credit to the benevolence
and good sense of the managers. The building
itself is of great extent, and the church, which stands
in the centre, is so managed that the services performed
in it may be seen and heard from every part of the

206 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
hospital. In the church, which is considered hand
some, there are statues of Doria, Balbi, Spinola, and
other eminent men who have distinguished themselves
as benefactors of the institution ; and an interesting
proof is thus given of the charity, which, whatever
may be the faults of the Genoese character, certainly
forms one of its principal elements.
Having thus briefly glanced at some of the chief
objects in this celebrated city, we shall now take a
similar view of its history, selecting for notice such
circumstances as seem best calculated to give a just
idea of the general state and character of the republic
in its several periods.
The early history of Genoa represents it as exposed to
many misfortunes and revolutions, long before it held
a place among the republics of Italy. It was almost
the last spot on which the Greeks defended themselves
against the power of the Lombards; but it at length
suffered the same fate as the rest of the country ; and
such was its weakness, and the bad state of its defences,
when it had been some time subject to its conquerors,
that about the middle of the tenth century it was taken
and sacked by a party of the Saracens. But this very
calamity seems to have been the cause of future wealth
and independence. At the instigation of Benedict
VIII., the Genoese formed a compact with the little
republic of Pisa, then actively employing its resources
against the Turks ; and the first expedition of the com
bined forces being crowned with success, they, from
that period, began to feel conscious of their strength,
and to assume a rank among the neighbouring states.

207

Unfortunately, however, they had made an agreement
with their allies respecting the division of the spoils,
which they were unwilling to ratify. The island of
Sardinia, on which the attack had been made, became
by the treaty the prize of the Pisans, while the Genoese
were to receive, as their reward, the booty taken in the
conflict. A fierce struggle was commenced by the
latter, to annul this disposition of the prizes ; and it was
not till the Pisans had taken up arms in defence of
their conquest that amity was restored.
How rapidly the republic now advanced towards
improvement, may in some degree be learned from the
form of its government, and the regulations which se
cured the safety and property of the people. The chief
magistrates, who were called consuls, owed their au
thority to the annual election of the community, and
were intrusted with the administration of the chief
functions of the state. But, to correct or modify their
proceedings, others were chosen in the same manner
to watch over the due administration of the laws ;
while, whenever the people thought such a measure
necessary to their liberty or to the preservation of good
order, a number of commissaries were chosen, who,
under the name of correctors of the laws, were bound
to remove abuses, or change the statutes, according to
the necessity of the times. That such a power might
often lead to abuses, and diminish, instead of increase,
public liberty, there can be little doubt ; but the fact
that the correctors were nominated at the call of the
people, is a proof that the spirit of republicanism was
awake and in full activity. The people, when about

208 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
to consult on any measure of interest, assembled to
gether in an open space, appointed for the purpose,
and there, as the chief power of the state, not only
carried on their deliberations, but received the accounts'
of the magistrates, as the servants of the republic. It
is, in great measure, to this circumstance that we are
indebted for the possession of any historical documents
respecting the fortunes of Genoa at this early period.
Her only historian in the twelfth century was one of
her magistrates ; and this venerable chronicler, whose
name was Caffaro, presented every year the annals of
the past twelve months to the consuls in full council ;
after which, if found to be correct, the document was
laid up in the public archives. The work of Caffaro,
which commences with the date of 1101, and ends with
that of 1164, was continued by other writers to 1294 ;'
and though the reader of this history will continually
find occasions to suspect the candour or freedom of the
authors, he will be able to discern enough of the spirit
of the times, and of the footsteps of the republic, as it
passed onwards to wealth and power, to satisfy himself
as to the more important parts of the detail.
One of the first circumstances in the narrative which
interests the imagination is the bold devotion with
which the Genoese, still in alliance with the Pisans,
proceeded to the conquest of the Holy Land. Before
the walls of Cesarea, they manifested both their cour
age and their zeal, in a manner admirably indicative of
the enthusiasm which reigned in their breasts. At the
command of the Archbishop of Pisa, then also Patri
arch of Jerusalem, who headed the forces, among which

GENOA. 209
was Caffaro himself, they held, what in the language
of the historian is called, a parliament. In this assem
bly the patriarch advised his companions to consecrate
themselves to God, the next morning, by receiving the
sacrament, and then to attack the city, without either
towers or machines, but to ascend the walls on the lad
ders they might bring from the galleys. " If," said he,
" you do this, and depend for conquering the city, not
on your own strength, but on that of God, I prophesy
to you that God will give the city, with all it contains,
into your power, before the sixth hour." The Genoese
commander, Caput Mallio, immediately declared his
assent to this counsel, and encouraged his followers to
put it in execution, by declaring that he would him
self first mount the walls. He kept his word. Early
the next morning the scaling ladders were fixed to the
walls ; and the general, clad in his coat of mail, and
armed with a lance and a sword, sprung upon the bat
tlements. But he stood alone in his triumph : many
were attempting to follow him ; but, at the moment when
he awaited their support, the ladder broke, and he was
left, without help, to the fury of the enemy. Aware of
his peril, he looked around on the city below, on the
camp of his army, and on the towers filled with Sa
racens. There was evidently no means of escape :
trusting himself, therefore, to God, he put up a fervent
prayer for aid, and then darted to one of the towers
with which the walls were covered. In his attempt to
ascend the stair-case, he was met by the man on guard,
and a fierce struggle ensued ; but he proved the con
queror, and, making for the summit of the building,
p

210 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
waved his sword, a signal to his friends, and a sign of
defeat to the terrified Saracens. The summons was
quickly obeyed by the Christians ; and in a brief pe
riod Cesarea, according to the prophecy of the patri
arch, was in their hands. The success, however, which
they obtained in this and other encounters with the
Saracens, led at last to afresh contest with their rivals,
the Pisans. Claiming for each other, as the reward of
their valour, the most extensive privileges at Constanti
nople, the spirit of mercantile jealousy involved them
in disputes, which ended by the violent expulsion of the
Genoese from the eastern capital. Reprisals were then
made by their fleets on those of Pisa; and the two
republics remained in a state of fierce hostility, till the
Emperor Frederic Barbarosa forced them into peace.
The conduct of that celebrated sovereign towards
Genoa was characterised by a singular mixture of
firmness and policy. He, to all intents, subjected it to
his power ; but so well concealed the yoke he had im
posed as to make the haughty republicans his willing
vassals. The situation of the island of Sardinia afforded a
more permanent cause of dispute with the Pisans than
the settlement at Constantinople ; and a circumstance
occurred, about the middle of the twelfth century, which
will show how readily every opportunity was embraced
by Genoa to annoy its rivals. On the conquest of
Sardinia, the Pisans, according to the custom of the
times, had given the lands to different gentlemen, to
hold as feudatories of the republic. But Genoa em
ployed the little influence it possessed on the island

GENOA. 211
with so much skill that, at the time of which we are
speaking, it was already in close amity with the chief
of the Sardinian nobles. Of these there were four
who had the title of judges, and exercised a species
of sovereign power in their respective estates. The
possession of this authority, and the continued affecta
tion of princely pomp, at length inspired one of the
number with an unconquerable desire to enjoy the
reality of that of which the semblance was so agreeable.
Ambition is seldom long in determining on what plan
to pursue the furtherance of its wishes; and Barison,
the name of the judge, at once resolved to bring his
own hopes into the same channel with the pride and
jealousy of the Genoese government. On a visit, there
fore, to Genoa, he communicated his views to two of
the principal consuls, who were his private friends, and
boldly offered to reduce the whole island to the power
of the republic, if they, in their turn, would bestow on
him the sovereignty. The design was sufficiently flat
tering in the eyes of the Genoese ; but they could do
nothing without the assent of the emperor ; and
Barison, accordingly, had to lay his plans before that
politic monarch. Frederic perceived, in an instant,
the advantages which would result to him, should the
design prove successful ; and, at the same time, knew
that he could suffer no harm from the failure of the en
terprise. To Barison's proposal, therefore, that he
would do homage for the whole island, and pay him
an annual tribute of four thousand marks, in return for
being invested with the sovereignty, he gave an attentive
and favourable ear. The consuls who attended the
p 2

212 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
audience confirmed Frederic's opinion of the feasibility
of the scheme, by promising Barison the support of
their fleet ; and he, accordingly, declared his willing
ness to give him the kingdom of Sardinia. No sooner,
however, had the ambassadors from Pisa become ac
quainted with Frederic's answer, than they declared
that such a grant would be an injustice to their state ;
and that Barison was, in every respect, their vassal.
The emperor contented himself with replying to this,
by asking the Genoese. consuls if .they could effect their
purpose against the will of the Pisans. ' " We are able
to do it, and we will do it," was the immediate answer,
" for our glory, — let them be willing or unwilling."
Barison was treated with all the honours due to his
royal station, and his hopes seemed completed, when
the consuls, at the command of the emperor, placed the
crown upon his head, which they had ordered to be
made at Genoa. Frederic silenced the objections of
the Pisans with a few haughty words, and then de
manded of the new king whether every thing had been
done according to his wishes, and the promises he had
made him. " All things, by the grace of God, and
your majesty, have been done as was promised me,"
replied the delighted Barison. " Seeing, then," said
Frederic, after putting his seal to the imperial charter,
" that every thing has been done for you, it is fitting
that you pay to me, king, the four thousand marks of
silver which you have promised." " It is true," said the
somewhat startled monarch, " that I. have promised you
that sum, my lord emperor, but I have it not at hand ;
nor can I pay it till I go to Sardinia." Frederic an-

GENOA. 213
swered, angrily, that he ought to have had more, rather
than less, ready for the crown and kingdom which he
had obtained, and that he could only depend upon his
deeds, not on words. " My lord emperor," replied the
unfortunate monarch, " if you doubt my saying, I will
prove the truth of it. Only give me time sufficient to
go to Sardinia and return, and my promises shall be
fulfilled." " Talk not thus to me," exclaimed the em
peror, " nor endeavour to change my opinion. Thou
hast the ability to pay me now, and I will hear of no
thing else." " It is impossible for me," said Barison, " to
pay you here ; but I will go to my residence, and con .
suit with the consul and other friends." " Do so,'' was
the stern reply.
The agitated monarch, whose first taste of kingly
happiness was thus bitter, hastened to the consul, and,
on entering his apartment, exclaimed, " My lord consul,
I am, as it were, imprisoned; and cannot escape, ex
cept by your aid, and that of the nobles of your state."
The consul replied that he was unable to assist him bv
his own will ; but that he was grieved for his situation,
and would consult with his colleagues as to the measures
which might be taken for his relief. To Barison's un
speakable joy, the answer of the council was, "Afford
to King Barison whatever he requires, and render him
all the honour which it behoves him to receive, and the
republic to give." Unable to repress his feelings, the
monarch, when this message was delivered to him, burst
into tears; and, thanking God for such timely aid,
immediately repaired, accompanied by the consul, to
the emperor. There the functionary of the republic

214 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
gave his bond for the payment of the sum in question,
after a certain number of days ; and Barison, with the
consul and his train, returned to Genoa. Scarcely
had he arrived there, when the chief men of the state
addressed him : " King ! the republic hath faithfully
preserved your honour ; it is now right that you should
repay us that which, for your honour, we have paid
the emperor." To this the monarch replied, " My lords
and fathers, I am, and shall for ever remain, devotedly
yours. I am not able to pay you while I remain in
Genoa; for, were I, it would not have been necessary
for me to borrow of you for the emperor. But in Sar
dinia, where all my possessions are, I will pay you
without delay, as I earnestly desire to do."
More placable than the emperor, the Genoese gave
full credit to the assurances of the king, and, at his
earnest request, even lent him another large sum to
equip the armament which he deemed necessary to
secure his safe establishment in his new dominions.
Seven galleys and three larger vessels were accord
ingly fitted up, and a considerable band of bowmen
and other soldiers was enlisted to accompany him.
Full of gratitude for the liberality with which the
republic treated him, he made a formal grant of his
lands to its citizens and their posterity.
Unfortunately, the prosperity which now seemed
ready to compensate him for his previous troubles and
anxieties received a sudden check from other and
unlooked-for circumstances. Only a few days had
passed, since the happy settlement of his negociations
had taken place, when some Pisans came to Genoa;

GENOA. 215
and, with seeming solicitude, sought communication
with the monarch. Jealousy is a characteristic feature
of republicanism ; and the Genoese no sooner heard
of Barison's intercourse with the Pisans than they con
ceived the idea that he was about to form a league with
them, and contrive some expedient for freeing himself
from the bonds he had lately contracted with the state.
This suspicion pervaded the minds of the persons whom
they deemed it expedient to send with him in the
galley in which he sailed a few days after for Sardinia.
No sooner, therefore, had they come near the island,
than they again desired payment of the money
which had been lent to the king. Barison had des
patched messengers to his wife, and other friends on
shore, for the requisite answer, with full confidence
that it would be forthwith given into their hands.
His messengers, however, returned, but without the
money. They informed him that neither his wife
nor his vassals would allow them to enter the castle,
and they refused to pay the sum required till he came
himself. On hearing this, he observed to the ministers
of the republic, " You see there is no hope of receiving
payment until I go myself." But the Genoese would
on no account allow of his leaving the vessel till the
money was paid them; and, as the winter was now
approaching, they became proportionably anxious for
settling the affair, and returning to their homes. This
desire was still farther inflamed by the report, current
in their little fleet, that the Pisans were on the watch
to surprise them, and that the partisans of Barison
in the island were already prepared to ensnare any

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of their party who might venture ashore. These and
similar suspicions at length raised the fears of the
principal men who had the conduct of the expedition
to such a height, that the command was given for
weighing anchor and returning to Genoa. The un
fortunate king, doubtlessly, saw the shores of his
country vanish from his eyes with feelings of intense
sorrow. His dreams of ambition were vanished, and
had left nothing in their place but a mingled sense
of self-reproach and of indignation at the conduct of
his pretended friends and allies. The treatment he
received, on arriving at Genoa, confirmed the worst
of his fears. Instead of being treated with the com
placency he had so lately experienced, he was cast
into prison, and there left to mourn for many years
in solitude over the misfortunes he had incurred, from
an ambition as vain as it was unjust and dangerous.
While thus left to himself, and his melancholy re
flections, the little territory from which he had hoped
to derive so much honour and enjoyment was the
scene of hot contention between the Genoese and
the partisans of the Pisans. The intentions of the
unfortunate Barison were no sooner made known to
the other three judges of the island than they renewed
their oath to the republic from which their forefathers
had received the estates they occupied, and imme
diately entered into a league to resist the proceedings
of the intended monarch. The disasters which befel
him enabled them to carry on their designs with little
difficulty ; and the miserable Barison heard, in a brief
period, that he had not only involved Sardinia itself

217

in deplorable ruin, but had sacrificed his own patri
mony, which now lay desolated by the fire and sword
of the enemy.
The fate of Barison conveys a very powerful moral ;
but it is one which a mind capable of ambition will
at once discover; and we therefore hasten to relate
another incident, from the same early period of
Genoese history, which will serve to show the state
of feeling in the republic at that time.
As Florence had its Corsi and Donati, so Genoa
had its factions of the Avogadi and the Marquisses of
Volta. The fierceness with which the feud between
these two noble and wealthy families was carried on
knew no bounds. Even the robe and dignity of
consul had been an insufficient safeguard to the
person of the Marquis of Volta, and he perished by
the hand of his enemy even while exercising the
highest functions of the state. Nor was he the only
nobleman who perished in a similar manner. No
less than four fell beneath the knife of the assassin
in the year 1166; and, each party increasing every
day in numbers as well as violence, the republic
seemed threatened with immediate dissolution. In
this situation of things, some of the wisest and most
influential men in the city resolved upon making an
attempt to restore order and tranquillity, before every
chance was lost of saving their country. The clergy,
at the head of whom was the archbishop, a man as
venerable for his virtues as his age, readily combined
with the magistrates in the measures they were about
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218 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
hastened to try the effect of their scheme. The
appointed hour arrived ; and the darkness of night
still enveloped the city in gloom, when the inhabitants
were suddenly alarmed by the sound of the bells
tolling, the accustomed signal for the assembling of
the people in parliament. In an instant the public
square was filled with crowds of astonished and inquiring
citizens; a scene presented itself to their sight of
strange solemnity ; and no one could say for what
purpose or at whose instigation they had been assem
bled. The gravest of the magistrates were there ;
with them were the most esteemed of the citizens ;
there also were some of the chief members of the
factions which had so long filled the city with con
fusion, and in the midst of the assembly were the
archbishop and his clergy, clad in their robes, and
bearing in their hands crosses and other emblems of
religion. The blazing torches, which many of the
chief citizens bore, shed a broad light over the
anxious countenances of the multitude ; and expec
tation was raised to the highest point, when the
aged archbishop came forward, and began in the most
impressive manner to urge on the assembly the Chris
tian duty of charity, mutual forbearance, and forgive
ness. Having done this, he turned to the persons
who had played the most conspicuous part in the late
tumults, and implored them, for the sake of their
fellow-citizens and their country, not to persevere in
their violence, nor cherish an enmity which was so de
structive to the state, and so entirely at variance with
the laws of their religion. The whole assembly was

GENOA. 219
deeply affected at the pathetic appeal of the venerable
prelate ; and their emotions were still farther excited
when one of the heralds stepped forth, and approach
ing the chief of the Avogadi, who chanced to be
present, besought him, in the name of the republic,
to be reconciled to his enemies. A powerful impression
was made on the mind of the nobleman by this ad
dress ; but the desire of vengeance, the fierce hate, and
unconquerable pride, which had so long held possession
of his soul, were strong antagonists to the emotions
which it was hoped might arise in his bosom. The
hesitation which was discoverable in his countenance
prompted the assembly to a more general expression
of its feelings, and not a tongue was silent while the
clergy and the magistrates supplicated him to establish
peace. Thus appealed to by the united voices of a
whole people, he could neither resist his desire to
sympathize with their wishes nor overcome his deep-
rooted determination to pursue his quarrel. In this
conflict of passion he tore his mantle, and, casting
himself upon the earth, proclaimed his resolution never
to cease from seeking that vengeance on his enemy he
had purposed to obtain. This declaration was followed
by renewed prayers on the part of the people ; and
at length he was induced to reverse his determination,
and sacrifice his rage to the solicitation so solemnly
urged upon him.
The assembly received the announcement of this
happy change in his disposition with great delight, and
immediately rushed to the palace of the Marquis of
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220 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
entreaties again prevailed ; and the two rival noblemen,
in whose quarrel so much blood had been shed, and
who had hitherto resisted every argument which either
the state, or prudence, or religion had been able to
bring against their conduct, now embraced each other,
and promised mutual forgiveness. The day dawned
upon the city, rejoicing in the return of tranquillity ;
and thousands of the inhabitants simultaneously joined
the clergy, as they poured forth their hymns of thanks
giving in the public square where they had gained so
signal a triumph over the haughty passions of human
nature. We might select other passages of a similar kind
from the pages of Genoese history ; but the above will
afford the reader some idea of that mixed condition of
good and evil in which the subjects of the early re
public were placed. The city was torn by faction,
and became the victim of every feud which private
malice, or the sense of wrong, might instigate ; but
the people were at the same time open to the most
generous impulses ; and it only required the aid and
support of established institutions, of sound and equal
laws, instead of the sudden resolves of popular will, to
nourish those dispositions into the most admirable of
social virtues. But, unfortunately, they never obtained
these supports ; and both their successes and their
incipient good qualities were, in consequence, sacrificed
to a continual succession of domestic broils.
About the end of the twelfth century the people
found it necessary to resign their power into the hands
of a Podesta, whom they elected for the purpose of

GENOA. 221
opposing the nobles, who seemed only to possess their
rank to give them a license to wage war with each
other, and involve the city in unceasing discord. In
the middle of the thirteenth century the Podestd was
deprived of a portion of his power ; and an officer,
termed the captain of the people, endowed with
supreme authority. The fourteenth century afforded
at its commencement a triumph to the Genoese, which,
had they known how to use their prosperity, would
have fixed them permanently at the head of the Italian
republics. The siege they sustained, in the year 1317,
has been compared to that of Troy in all but its results.
Instead, however, of pursuing their success with that
steady resolution which could alone have made it pro
fitable, they allowed the Venetians to derive daily
accessions of strength from their negligence and
internal confusion. This was also the case when,
towards the conclusion of the same century, they con
quered that people, now become their rivals, as the
Pisans had been a hundred years before, in the war of
Chioggia. The port of that name had already fallen
into their hands, and the inhabitants of Venice hourly
expected to see the galleys of the enemy pour forth
their crews among the marble palaces of the Rialto ;
but, instead of taking advantage of the consternation
they had inspired, they remained idle spectators of
their own triumph, and had at last to meet the Vene
tians again in equal contest, and retire from the scene
of their former victory, defeated and disgraced. This,
it is said, was the beginning of that series of disasters
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222 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
rendered the Venetian flag triumphant over all its
compeers. From that period, Genoa lost something
every year of its independence and confidence. In
1396, and again in 1458, it became the willing vassal
of France ; and, a few years after, again changing its
master, yielded its liberties to the Dukes of Milan.
It remained under their control till 1528, when it
once more asserted its claim to dignity and independ
ence, and for some years wore the aspect of a wealthy
and most flourishing republic. " It was now in a
condition," says the Cardinal de Retz in his cele
brated history of Fiesco's conspiracy, " which might
have been called happy had it been better secured.
To all appearance it enjoyed a glorious tranquillity,
acquired by its own arms, and preserved by those of the
great Charles V., whom that state had chosen for the
protector of its liberty. The weakness of its enemies
sheltered it from their ambition, and the charms of
peace restored a prosperity which the disorders of war
had long banished. Trade began to revive in the city,
to the visible advantage of the public and of private
persons ; and if the minds of the citizens had been as
free from jealousy as their fortunes were from neces
sity, that commonwealth had soon recovered from its
past miseries, by a state of ease, wealth, and happiness.
But the want of union among them, and the seeds of
hatred which the late divisions had left in the hearts
of the people, were dangerous elements, which plainly
indicated that the great body was not yet cured of its
distemper, and that its seeming health was like that of
those persons whose bloated faces carry with them a

GENOA. 223
good appearance, but conceal many ill humours.
The nobility, who had the government in their hands,
could not forget the injuries which they had received
from the people during the time that they had no share
in the management of affairs ; and the people, on
their part, could not suffer the dominion of the nobility,
but viewed it as a new tyranny, contrary to the ordi
nances of the state. Some, even among the noblemen,
who aspired to a higher fortune, secretly envied the
grandeur of the rest. Thus the one commanded with
haughtiness, and the others obeyed with indignation,
and many thought themselves servants because they
did not act enough like masters."
Such was the state of things when the Count of
Lavagna, John Lewis de Fiesco, urged by ambition,
and the natural impulses of a bold and ardent mind,
undertook to improve the condition of his country by
placing himself at the head of its affairs. He was
but twenty-two years of age, was accomplished,
amiable in his deportment, renowned for generosity,
and beloved by all who could pardon his habits of
luxury and pleasure for the sake of his better qualities.
In fortune he equalled the wealthiest, and the antiquity
of his family gave him a claim to all the respect which
can belong to a noble descent. From these combined
circumstances, the young Count of Lavagna, it may
be considered, might well have aspired to the highest
station in the government of the republic, without
finding it necessary to employ any desperate measures
to secure the object of his wishes. But there was at
this time a man at the head of the state whose power

224 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
had been gained by a succession of the noblest actions,
and to whom his country owed a debt of gratitude
which no subsequent action of his life had cancelled.
This was the celebrated Andrea Doria, who had freed
the republic from the yoke of France, whose galleys
he formerly commanded, and to whom, in the fulness
of their joy, the Genoese had raised a statue, bearing
an inscription which designated him, " The Father of
his Country, and Restorer of Liberty." Had he not
attempted to share his honours with those who had no
part in their acquisition, — had he appeared as the sole
chief of the republic, — his age, the recollection of his
actions, and his known virtues, would have secured him
to the end of life the firm attachment of his country
men. But, unhappily, he allowed his relative and
adopted son, Giannetino Doria, to appear as his asso
ciate in the management of public affairs ; and as that
person possessed neither the fame nor the virtues of
his illustrious protector, so his pride and the untimeli-
ness of his interference were excused by no feeling
of respect on the part of the people. The nobles,
especially, were indignant at the assumption of dignity
by a man so little entitled to affect superiority as
Giannetino ; and rumours of discontent were to be
heard in every quarter of the city. But Fiesco viewed
things with a different feeling to that of most of his
fellow-citizens and associates ; the indignation which
he nourished, in common with them, was converted into
food for those restless passions which could not be satis
fied with the round of pleasure in which he strove to
steep and stifle them. He caught, with eager delight, at

GENOA. 225
the chance of busy peril and adventure, and the bright
prospect of elevation, which the first thought of sup
planting the power of Doria suggested. From that
moment his whole mind became absorbed in medi
tating on the means by which this important object
might be effected. A vast field of enterprise was
opened to his imagination ; he saw himself united
with the greatest princes of Europe, and felt his heart
warm with the praise he should receive from his
countrymen for having freed them from the despotism
of an usurper. These feelings were still further
increased when he found the views he had formed
approved of by those who had the ability to aid him
in their execution. While intent on his project he
visited Rome, and there held a conference with the
French ambassador, who at once expressed the warmest
approbation of his design, and promised him extensive
assistance. The pope is also supposed to have sig
nified his pleasure at the scheme, and Fiesco returned
to Genoa to renew his project, not as a private adven
turer, but as the colleague of the King of France,
and the boldest politicians of the age. He appears,
however, to have been somewhat startled at the rapid
strides he had taken towards the fulfilment of his
wishes ; and it seems probable that he might, at this
period of his proceedings, have been easily dissuaded
from pursuing them further. But, either from some
suspicion of his intentions, or from an increasing dis
position to arrogance, Giannetino Doria treated him,
on his return, with a degree of superciliousness which
inflamed his indignation, and awakened the most des-
Q

226 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
perate of his resolves. He was, at the same time,
visited by an agent of the French ambassador, who,
anxious to restore Genoa to his country, was deter
mined to urge him forward to the completion of a
design which promised so well. Convinced by the
representations of the shrewd politician, to whom the
ambassador had trusted his errand, Fiesco signified his
determination to take the course he advised, and
accordingly signed the articles of agreement which
bound him to co-operate, in return for certain assist
ance, with the King of France. But scarcely had
the gentleman left him when Fiesco's mind again
wavered, and he immediately despatched a person to
hasten with all speed after the messenger, and bring
him back for a further conference before the final step
was taken. He then summoned three of his most
trusty friends to attend him, and, in their presence,
unfolded his views, and asked their advice. Vincent
Calcagno, of Varesa, was the first who delivered his
opinion, in doing which he strongly insisted upon the
folly and danger of Fiesco's proceedings, proving to
him that he had neither sufficient means nor experi
ence, neither power nor reputation enough, to effect his
purpose. He warned him also to beware of attributing
to himself the praise of patriotism, when the desire of
self-aggrandizement was the chief impulse, and con
cluded his address, which, if genuine, as given by the
Cardinal de Retz, was a master-piece of political
wisdom, with this weighty counsel, " Learn to regulate
your ambition ; and remember that the only instance
wherein that passion can be justified, is where you set

GENOA. 227
aside your own interest, and follow only the rules of
your duty. There have been many conquerors who
have ravaged states and overthrown kingdoms, who
have not possessed that greatness of soul which enables
us to look with an indifferent eye on the most exalted
and lowest condition, — on the greatest human happi
ness and misery, — on pleasure and pain, — on life and
death ; but it is this love of true glory, this elevated
state of the mind, which renders men truly great, and
raises them above the rest of the world. This is the
only glory which can render you perfectly happy, even
though the dangers you imagine to yourself surrounded
you on all hands, since you cannot acquire any other
without disgracing yourself by the greatest of crimes.
Embrace, therefore, this glory, as well out of prudence
as generosity, since it is ' more useful, less dangerous,
and more honourable.' "
Very different was the advice of Varena, the next
speaker: "I should wonder," said he, "that there
were any one man in Genoa capable of the sentiments
you have just heard, were not my wonder lost in the
consideration of what the commonwealth suffers.
When every body bears oppression with so abject a
submission, it is natural for them to hide their com
plaints, and seek excuses for their weakness." He
then addresssed himself to the count, and, passing the
most lofty encomiums on his virtues and eminent
qualifications for doing honour to the highest station,
strenuously exhorted him to aim at once at the pos
session of that crown which would otherwise grace the
head of the hated Giannetino. There is a bold, reck
Q 2

228 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL,
less tone about the whole of this speech, admirably
characteristic of an Italian statesman, accustomed to
continual feuds, — to the transfer of principalities, and
the execution of plots by the sword which the most
cunning wits had amused themselves in framing. " All
affairs," said this daring counsellor, "bear two dif
ferent aspects ; and the same politicians who blame
Pompey for having strengthened Caesar's power by
incensing him, have praised the conduct of Cicero in
ruining Cataline." Again : " I know that one of so
scrupulous a disposition, and so jealous of honour as
you are, will hardly bear to be sullied with those
terrible names of rebel and traitor. Yet these mighty
scarecrows, which public opinion has framed to frighten
the minds of the vulgar, never bring any shame to
those who bear them for extraordinary actions, when
they are attended with success. The crime of usurp
ing a crown is of so illustrious a nature, that it may
pass for a virtue. Every class of men has its peculiar
reputation ; the common sort ought to be conspicuous
for their moderation, and the nobler for their ambition
and courage. A poor pirate, who used to take little
vessels in the time of Alexander, passed for an
infamous robber, whilst that prince, who took whole
kingdoms from their rightful sovereigns, is to this day
honoured as a hero ; and, if Cataline is blamed as a
traitor, Caesar is spoken of as the greatest man that
ever lived." By these sophistries, by confounding such
characters as the base, licentious Cataline, with the vir
tuous Ceesar, because they resembled each other in one
point, though in that but imperfectly, Fiesco quickly

GENOA. 229
lost the impression made by the prudent admonitions
of Calcagno. There was one point, however, in the
speech of Varena, which seemed to exceed all the rest
in violence and impudence. He distinctly opposed
the idea of a union with France, and, when contra
dicted by Raphael Sacco, who spoke last, supported
his opinion on this matter so firmly, and with so great
a show of reason, that the Count finally resolved not
only upon carrying his original design into execution,
but to trust for support entirely to his own courage and
resources. His resolution being thus firmly taken, he now began
to employ all the accomplishments, of which he was
master, to confirm the popularity he already enjoyed
to a considerable extent among his countrymen. Every
class of persons received some kind or flattering atten
tion at his hands : the poor silk-weavers, who, it ap
pears, were at that time suffering greatly from the want
of employment, were secretly supplied by him with
large sums of money, for the support of their families.
He also took care to obtain the promise of troops from
the Duke of Placentia, near whose territory his estate
was situated ; while his own vassals were kept in con
stant training, under pretence of resisting some expected
aggression from the prince, with whom he had j ust entered
into alliance. His three tried friends, mentioned above,
notwithstanding the difference of their sentiments res
pecting the plot, now joined heartily in labouring to
secure its success; and, by their efforts, not less than
ten thousand persons are said to have been engaged to
co-operate with them : their profound policy, at the

230 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
same time, preventing the real purpose they had in
view, from becoming known to any of the party. As
the time approached for executing this deeply-formed
design, they increased their diligence and watchfulness.
Fiesco, sacrificing somewhat of his high and chivalrous
feeling of honour, to what he deemed the necessity of
his situation, condescended to play the part of a hy
pocrite with Giannetino Doria ; and appeared before
him with a smooth and complacent aspect. One of the
four galleys, in the mean while, which he had prepared
for the attack on the harbour, was brought, under
some pretence, into port ; and a part of his retainers
were, by a similar artifice, introduced among the ci
tizens. It was now time that the period and mode of com
mencing operations should be determined without
delay ; but doubts and difficulties opposed themselves
to almost every suggestion that entered the minds of
the conspirators. At first it was proposed to assassinate
the aged doge and his nephew while at a religious
solemnity ; but to this Fiesco objected with honour,
notwithstanding the voluntary offer of Varenato perform
the deed with his own hand. The idea next entertained
was that of putting them to death at a marriage festival,
when the count would have an opportunity of inviting
them to his palace ; but to this he appears again to
have objected, from a strong sense of the infamy he
should incur by such an act of treachery. It was,
therefore, at length determined that open force should
be employed, but only with such caution as might se
cure success, rather by the rapidity with which the blow

GENOA. 231
was struck, than by the treachery that veiled it. The
night of the second of January was appointed for the
execution of the plot ; and the former part of that day
was carefully employed by Varena and the rest, in
visiting their associates, in examining the state of the
city, and especially those quarters on which the prin
cipal attack was to be made ; while Fiesco himself had
fresh stores of arms, and little bands of soldiers, quietly
introduced into his palace. As the evening drew on,
he despatched Varena to the principal public places,
to see if any suspicious circumstances indicated the
discovery of the plot. He went himself to the house
of Giannetino ; played, it is said, with the children,
and acted in every way as a man who had no other
care on his mind, than that of wiling away the time.
On his way home, he called at the house of his friend
Tomaso Assereto ; and finding there between thirty and
forty gentlemen, whose dispositions, he knew, were
little favourable to the present government, he invited
them to sup with him, and they accompanied him to
his palace. Orders had, in the mean time, been given
to admit every one who came, but to allow no person
to go out ; and the courts and apartments were, by
nightfall, nearly filled with guests and soldiers. But
few were acquainted with the count's intentions. The
rest beheld, with fear and astonishment, the snare into
which they had fallen. Instead of the preparations for
a feast, they saw nothing but the signs of an approach
ing and fierce conflict. The tramp of soldiers and
rattling of arms sounded strangly in the ears of peo
ple, who had expected to enjoy the pleasures of a

232 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
palace, so notorious for its gaiety arid splendour.
Strangely, too, looked them ailed bands, and anxious
vassals, and the bold conspirators themselves, whose
flashing eyes and compressed lips, indicated many a
dark resolve. One guest whispered his doubts to ano
ther, and was only answered with surmisings that in
creased his amazement. The more reckless of the
party disputed on the subject, and hurled forth angry
and boastful threats against their private enemies.
In another part of the palace the sober and experienced
were gathered together in close debate, speculating by
turns on Fiesco's character and designs, on the state of
Genoa, and the conduct of old Doria and his haughty
nephew. At length the assembly was summoned to the
great hall of the palace ; and there the count, in a
spirited and encouraging address, rapidly explained
his objects, besought them to assist him, not merely for
his, but for their own sakes, and that of the republic
at large. In allusion to the arms which were piled
around them, " I should offend your courage," he said,
" if I imagined you capable, at the sight of these ob
jects, to deliberate about the use of them. That use
is certain, by the good order which I hope to put things
into ; it is of the greatest advantage to you : it is just,
because of the oppression you suffer — it is glorious,
by the greatness of the undertaking. I might prove by
these letters that the emperor has promised Andrea
Doria the sovereignty of Genoa : and is ready to fulfil
his promise. I could show you, by other letters which
I possess, that Giannetino has three times attempted to
hire people to poison me. It would be easy for me to

GENOA. 233
prove to you that he has given orders to Sercaro to
murder me and all my family, the moment his uncle
may die. But the knowledge of all these horrid and
infamous treacheries would add nothing to the detes
tation you already feel for these monsters. Methinks
I see your eyes sparkle with the generous fire with
which a just desire of vengeance fills you : I see you
more ready even than myself to express your resentment,
to ensure your estates, your peace, and the honour of
your families. Let us then, my dear fellow-citizens,
save the reputation of Genoa; let us preserve our
country's liberty ; and let us show the world that there
are yet left, in this state, honest men, who have the
heart to bring tyrants to destruction."
This address was received with loud applause ; those
who trembled, it is said, seeing the necessity of con
cealing their fears, and the rest not wishing to lose the
reward they might expect to receive, if successful, by
any tardiness in expressing their Sentiments There
were only two of the persons present who desired to be
excused from participating in the plot, and they were
allowed to retire into another apartment, in which they
were carefully locked up, to prevent their communicat
ing any of the proceedings to those without.
All was now ready, and Fiesco's heart beat high
with hope and resolution. His followers were all
armed, and eager to issue forth : every minute of de
lay seemed fraught with danger, and they would have
rejoiced to spring at once into the scene of conflict.
But the count, in that moment of intense anxiety,

234 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL
suddenly disappeared. The softer emotions of his
nature had overcome the passions which were less
consonant to his feelings ; but had involved, till that
instant, every other in the fire they had kindled. The
Countess Leonora, his wife, was beautiful, and, in all
ways, worthy of his love. When he entered her cham
ber he found her bathed in tears. She was only im
perfectly acquainted with his designs; and, when he
explained them to her, all the eloquence of the most
passionate fondness flowed from her lips to dissuade
him from his purpose. But she implored in vain ; nor
did the arguments urged by an aged domestic avail to
increase the force of her appeal. Fiesco yielded for a
moment to his tenderness, and then tore himself away,
exclaiming, as he bade Leonora adieu, that she should
either never see him again, or that she should behold
him come to declare her mistress of Genoa.
On returning to the hall he gave his final directions
for the commencement of the assault. According to
these, one hundred and fifty men were to proceed im
mediately to that part of the city called the borough,
whither they were to be followed by himself, and his
chief companions. His natural brother, Cornelius,
was then to march with a detachment, and make him
self master of the gate of the arch : while his other
brothers, Jerome and Ottobon, were to attack the gate
of St. Thomas; awaiting, as their signal, the firing of
cannon from, the count's galley, which was ready, under
the command of Varena, to shut up the mouth of the
bason. The count himself, was to leave guards at

235

the arches of St. Andrew and St. Donatus, and at the
Place des Sauvages ; and then make the best of his
way to the gate of St. Thomas. Assereto was to give
his aid at the same point. The securing of this station
was regarded of the utmost importance ; the commu
nication between the two parties of the assailants, de
pending upon its being in their hands. The next
measure determined on was, that as soon as the gate of
St. Thomas, near which stood the Palace of the Doge,
might be taken ; a party should force the palace, and
immediately put both Andrea Doria and Giannetino to
death. It was also agreed, that the general cry should
be Fiesco and Liberty.
The attack commenced prosperously. The Gate of
the Arch, and that of St. Thomas, fell, after a short
contest, into the hands of the conspirators. Giannetino,
awakened with the first sound of the tumult, rushed
from the palace, and was instantly slain. The doge
himself escaped, through the cautious regard of Jerome
Fiesco for the wealth of the palace. But he was not
in a state to rally his guards ; and, while he fled, Fiesco
and his friends took possession, one after another, of
every place of importance in the city. Glorying in his
success, the count flew to the harbour, where he found
Varena already almost master of Doria's galleys.
In a few minutes longer they became his own, and his
triumph was complete. But, at this instant, a noise
was heard in one of the vessels. The slaves, by which
it was chiefly manned, appeared rising against their
conquerors. Fiesco sprung upon the board which led

236 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
from the shore to the galley — the unsteady support
gave way, and he was precipitated into the deep.
Clad in heavy armour, as he was, he had not time even
for a struggle, and his ambition and his triumphs were
alike at an end.
Verrina was among the first to learn the fatal catas
trophe which had occurred ; but he had the prudence
to conceal it from his followers : the same caution was
exercised on the part of the other leaders ; and, by the
dawn of day, the city was completely under the power of
the conspirators. The senate assembled, and desired to
make terms. Ignorant of the fate of Fiesco, they sent
a messenger to learn his demands. His brother Jerome
answered in his stead ; and, with a pride as fatal as it
was arrogant, that it was with him alone the senate
had now to confer. No intelligence could have been
more acceptable to the state. It was Fiesco alone
whom they feared. His popularity only could have
shaken the long-confirmed power of Doria ; and, that
gone, the throne which it had undermined, again
settled firmly on its old foundations.
The measures taken by the government against the
discomforted conspirators were prompt and vigorous.
They, at first, pretended to treat with Jerome and his
party ; and thereby drew them from the posts in which
they had entrenched themselves. Doria, cherishing the
deepest hatred against them, proceeded cautiously to
effect their ruin ; and they, most of them, fell by the
hand of the public executioner. The Palace of Fiesco
was razed to the ground. Those who had taken even

GENOA. 237
the most insignificant share in the conspiracy were
banished for fifty years; and Doria again ruled in
Genoa with supreme authority.
Unfortunately for Italy, her great maritime states,
the very inlets of her wealth, were, from the earliest
period of her history, intent only on ruining each
other. Thus Pisa sunk with the increase of Genoa :
and Genoa, with that of Venice. From the period of
which we have spoken above, the Genoese found them
selves deprived, one after another, of their richest
possessions ; and finally reduced to depend for pro
tection upon France. It is, at present, subject to
Sardinia, and, as it is one of the richest cities of Italy
so, also, it bears less evident traces of the changes,
through which she has past, than most others in that
land of melancholy recollections. But whatever may
be the feelings of animation with which the traveller
must still behold the busy and populous shores of this
noble city, there will be one of sadness, united with
them, when he recalls to mind, that Genoa, in the
thirteenth century, had won by her fleets settlements
both in Asia and Africa; where the Moorish, and other
princes, gladly accepted her alliance ; — that the port
of Azoph, at the mouth of the Don, and that of Caffa,
on the Black Sea, the two best mercantile stations then
known, were theirs : that Smyrna, and the suburbs of
Constantinople, Pera and Galata, belonged to them :
and that not merely the petty severeigns of states,
equal in extent to theirs, sought their friendship ; but
even the Emperors of Austria and the Sultans of Egypt

238 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
were happy to purchase their support. When the
power and splendour of republican Genoa, in these
times, are considered, it is impossible that the mind
should not shrink with terror, from those enemies of
freedom and independence, — the rivalry of free states
among each other — the admission of anarchy and licen
tiousness in themselves.

SAVONA.
Non perche umile, in solitario lido,
Ti cingono, Savona, anguste mura,
Fia pero che di te memoria oscura,
Fama divolghi, o se ne spenza il grido ;
Che pur di tiamme celebrate e note
Picciola Stella in ciel splende Boote. Cuiabrera.
This city, situated on the coast of the Mediterranean,
was once of greater importance than it at present can
boast. Conquered by the Genoese, Savona repeatedly
attempted to throw off the yoke, even assisted by the
Pope, Giulio II., a native of the place. In 1525 the re
public of Genoa declared that Savona had forfeited all
its privileges, and incurred a fine of twenty-five thou
sand crowns. It was, moreover, condemned to have its
harbour filled up ; and, by this tyrannical policy, the
commercial importance of the capital was increased.
Many of its houses were demolished to build a fortress
to overawe the city, which was nearly destroyed by the
explosion of a magazine, containing one thousand and
twenty barrels of gunpowder, which was set fire toby a
thunderbolt, on the night of the seventh of July, 1648.
More than two hundred and fifty houses fell to the
ground, and nearly seven hundred persons were buried
under the ruins. No house escaped without great
injury , several hundred inhabitants were severely
wounded, and a great many lost their lives by the

240 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
effects of terror. The city now contains scarcely ten
thousand inhabitants. Although it has not any claim
to the honour of being the birth-place of Cristoforo
Colombo, as some have asserted, yet Savona may
boast of having contributed her share to the number of
great men who have adorned Italy. Besides being
the native city of Pope Giulio II. , as we observed, it
was also that of Sisto IV. Gabriello Chiabrbra,
the most Pindaric of Italian Lyrics, and a poet, who, to
great originality of thought and style, added both un
common energy and softness, was born at Savona.
Before being subjected to Genoa, Savona was the
title of a marquisate of the noble family Caretti, or,
Del Caretto, the origin of which was lost in remotest
antiquity. It was thus genealogists and chroni
clers had it in their power to make it descend from an
imperial source by one of the most romantic adven
tures ever recorded, and which is briefly as follows : —
Alerame was the most valiant knight in the suite
of Otho I., Emperor of the Romans ; he was
liked by his master and loved by all the ladies of
the court, at which he was, however, almost a stranger,
possessing nothing but his gallant soul and noble de
meanour. Adelasia, a daughter of the Emperor, was
struck as much as the rest of the court with Alerame's
merits, and, thinking that a princess might take some
liberties not allowed to others, after having loved
him long in secret, she could not conceal her pas
sion from its object, and plainly informed him of it.
Alerame grew " pale and red" at this intimation, and
knew not what to think. He tried at last to talk

SAVONA. 241
to the young lady about duty, and the difference of
rank, but she was offended at his observations, and
concluded by telling him that she would expose him
as a coward and a despicable fellow if he did not
run away with her. There was no standing such argu
ments, advanced by a young princess, and the valiant
knight yielded. Taking advantage of the absence
of the emperor, who was at a diet, the loving couple
eloped in great style, with a large retinue of servants,
many horses, and plenty of money, having deter
mined to live in splendour, and to take shelter in Italy.
They soon, however, heard of the great rewards
promised for their apprehension, and of the terrible pun
ishment with which the emperor threatened to visit
them, if he succeeded in getting them into his power.
They were, therefore, obliged to dismiss their attend
ants (N. B. at the end of the first day's journey
they were married according to the canons, by a
parish priest of a village where they rested for the
night), and to disguise themselves, which they suc
ceeded in doing so well, that often the officers sent
after them, presented them their own portraits (this was
the kind of recognition then in use) to inquire whether
they had seen any such persons abroad. They had
nearly succeeded in getting out of Germany, where
they were robbed of whatever they possessed ; and,
we rather suspect, began to think they had done better
to stay at home, although they made a point of not
avowing it. Driven to extremities, they withdrew into
the neighbourhood of Savona ; and, to get his livelihood,
Sir Alerame was obliged to turn Carbonaro and make

242 the landscape annual.
charcoal, and then take it to Savona to sell, whilst
his lady acted both as his squire and servant. Their
family increased, however, and, in course of time, they
had seven apprentices to the coal trade. Yet none
of them seemed to like the occupation. The eldest,
William, instead of laying out the money which he
got from coal-dealers in the necessaries of life, some
times bought a sword, at others showy feathers, or
perhaps a hawk, almost despising his father for not
being fond of such things. Finally, he ran away, and
went into the emperor's service. The second son was
following the steps of his elder brother ; but the
others were too young to be able to do the same ; yet
they showed every inclination to do it.
William distinguished himself so much in the
service of the emperor that soon he was deemed
worthy of being knighted, and in this quality he
followed his sovereign, who undertook an expedition
into Italy to drive out the Saracens. On arriving
at Savona, Sir William asked the emperor to allow
him to go see his family, who lived in the neigh
bouring mountains. This place of abode seemed so
singular, that the monarch ordered a gentleman of
his household to follow Sir William in secret, and see
from what kind of people he was born. This was done,
and, owing to Adelasia nearly betraying herself through
fear, rather than by his own recollection, the gentleman
recognised Sir Alerame, as well as that lady, and was
very much hurt by their situation. He thought that the
emperor regretted his own severity, and was rather
inclined to receive the guilty couple into favour again,

243

had he only known where they lived ; yet he was not
quite sure of the emperor's feelings. He determined
not to betray them, and see what could be done in their
behalf. He was obliged to report to the emperor
concerning his mission, "but," says the old chronicler,
"as a true courtier," he knew so well how to
dissemble, that he satisfied Otho without letting him
know the important discovery that he had made."
To assist Sir Alerame and the princess Adelasia,
this gentleman went to the Bishop of Savona to
consult with him how they should proceed to in
form the emperor of the fact, and obtain pardon for
the guilty persons. His lordship thought that the
best time would be, when a tournament, which was
fixed for a few days hence, should take place. " Let
Alerame give proofs that he is still the same noble
warrior that he was, by entering the lists and behaving
as he was wont to do. We shall then have a greater
chance in his favour. The emperor, although touched
as a father, might think it his duty to proceed severely
as a sovereign." The plan was agreed upon, and
Alerame was secretly provided with a steed, a suit
of armour, and all what was necessary for the
tournament. We are naively told by the chronicler
that the night before the day appointed for entering
the lists, Alerame " dreamed of nothing but of triumph
and of the gallows;" as he made sure of the one,
and was not without his misgivings that the other
might be the reward of all his trouble : sentence he
knew had long been passed upon him, and he feared
lest the time for execution had arrived.
r 2

244 the landscape annual.
Alerame entered the lists with an unknown device,
his visor lowered, and unaccompanied by any one. He
attracted the attention of all the company by his
graceful and noble carriage ; but the ladies thought
him rather ungallant by not parading about to see
and be seen, and not asking or seeming to care for
any favour : the knights would fain have made him
the subject of their sport, but he looked like a man
with whom it might be dangerous to have a quarrel.
The reader must have already foreseen what hap
pened. The tournament opened, but it lasted only
a short time ; for Sir Alerame conquered very easily
all the champions who dared to meet him, and was
declared the conqueror. During the confusion inse
parable from the occasion, the unknown champion
vanished, and, when the herald came forth to summon
him to the imperial presence to ask what boon he
might like as a reward for his gallantry, no one
answered the call. The disappointment was general,
and the emperor felt this as an insult : he thought
to disappear in such a manner was a slight put on
his dignity : and, as no gentleman could be conceived
capable of behaving so churlishly, it kwas supposed
that the " great unknown," being probably of a low
birth, felt that he had no right to show himself
among the flower of the nobility. It was, however,
still more disgraceful, that he should be the conqueror
of them all. In his distress of mind the emperor
was heard to wish for Alerame : " had he been present
no stranger would dared have come to snatch the
flower of knighthood from the imperial court."

SAVONA. 245 •
The bishop thought this an excellent opportunity
for interceding : yet, to do it more efficaciously, he
begged to be allowed to present to the emperor the
family of a particular friend of his ; and, on leave
being granted, he introduced the sons — the seven sons
of Sir Alerame — each offering a present to His
Majesty. Although none but the eldest, William, had
ever been among the grandees at court, yet their mien
was noble, and such as to bespeak their birth. On
William entering, the bishop asked the emperor whether
it did not appear to him that there was something of
Sir Alerame in his looks? to which the emperor as
sented; and a tear stood in his eyes. " And why did
you not enter the lists to-day, Sir William ?" asked the
Emperor of Alerame's eldest son. " It would have been
unnatural for the son to fight against the father;" an
swered the bishop, and at the same time, Sir Alerame,
with his head uncovered, but dressed as he was at the
tournament, was ushered before the Imperial presence,
leading the poor Lady Adelasia, covered with rags and
emaciated by sufferings. No one recognised them, but
the old Emperor, who rushed from his throne to clasp
them both in his arms, to pardon them for their fault, and
to restore them to their rank and honours. He declared
Sir Alerame his Imperial Vicar, received proofs that he
was of the sovereign house of Saxony, and conferred
upon him, and upon every one of the children, the
title of Marquis. The eldest was Marquis of Savona,
and from him descended the house Caretti or del
Caretto. This story is to be met with in many old romances

246 the landscape annual.
and chronicles, both of Italy and of other countries,
the names only being altered. One of the Italian
versions is, that two daughters of the Emperor Henry
III. eloped; and that, whilst one met the same adven
tures as Adelasia, the other became the mother of the
Marquis Boniface, of Tuscany, father of the Great
Countess Matilda. The great Caladin Orlando, ac
cording to another Italo-French tradition, was born in
a grotto at Sutri (the grotto is still shown as Grotta
d'Orlando), his father, Milone, having eloped with
Berta, a sister of Charlemagne ; and she was discovered
by that emperor, by chance, in as distressed a condi
tion as was Adelasia, and also pardoned. In an
" Essay on the Romantic Poetry of the Italians," lately
published by Mr. Pickering, an attempt has been made
to show that all these stories came originally from
Wales ; and to that publication the inquisitive reader
is referred for more ample information on this curious
subject. The writer of that Essay, strangely enough,
forgot to mention among the others, this legend of
Sir Alerame and Princess Adelasia, although it would
appear to be the most romantic of them all.

TREVI.
When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, then straight his doubled spirit
Re-quickened what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he ; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil ; and, till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting. SlIAKSPEARr..
The power of historical association is strongly felt
in the neighbourhood of Trevi. Monuments there are
none, but the memorial of the graphic Livy has done
more for the spot than the most durable and sumptuous
pile could have effected. It has been elegantly
observed by Eustace that the pictures of the great
writers of antiquity so resemble the objects which they
are intended to represent, that a traveller might ima
gine they had always been sketched on the spot itself
and in the very heat of action. The particular passage
in the historian to which this remark alludes, is the
description given of the celebrated battle fought on
the banks of the Trebia between Hannibal and the
consul Sempronius. Polybius has also detailed the
circumstances of the same memorable engagement,
and, with the feelings inspired by the pictures drawn
so vividly by these eloquent writers, the tourist will find
enough in the neighbourhood of Trevi to convey his

248 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
imagination back through a series of ages pregnant
with brilliant incident.
Few of the exploits, even of Hannibal, are more
deserving of renown than the victory of Trebia. He
was encamped on one side of the stream : the Roman
consul occupied the plains on the other : the river
which separated them is scarcely more than a brook in
regard to its width, but it is deep and rapid, and the
banks which overhang it are precipitous, and covered
with thick and tangled shrubs. The Carthaginian
general, at once saw the advantage he might take of
his position ; and it is related that on the evening pre
ceding the battle he sent, after supper, for his brother
Mago, and ordered him to select a hundred horse and
a hundred foot soldiers, the bravest in the army, and
bring them to his tent. When they arrived, he directed
each of the men to choose nine companions, and then
sent the little band of two thousand to take up their
position immediately behind the dense foliage which
overhung the stream. The provocation which he gave
the Romans in the morning induced Sempronius to
urge his forces through the river, which was still
swelling with the rains of winter : they had received
no nourishment when they were thus led to the onset,
and they were met by men who, according to Hanni
bal's orders, had been well fed, and rubbed themselves
well with oil, and put on their armour before a cheer
ful fire.
The consequence to the Romans was terrible. The
fierce and active Numidians, the slingers of the Ba-
leares, the deep line of cavalry, the troop of elephants

tuevi. 249
were all in instant motion, as the chilled and exhausted
enemy pressed up the banks of the river. After a
short conflict the two wings of the Roman army were
driven back into the stream, and, while terror and
confusion prevailed in the main body of the troops, the
two thousand men, whom Hannibal had secreted
among the thickets, burst from their hiding-place, and
completed the victory.
The battle fought, in the same neighbourhood,
between the French and Russians in the present age
has been compared to that just described. Three times,
it is said, did the Russians approach to the attack, and
were as many times repulsed, when Suwarrow, their
general, summoning up all the rage and courage of a
northern soldier, gave, for the fourth time, the com
mand to renew the assault. His troops seemed to
participate in all his feelings. They rushed forward
with the most furious shouts of defiance, and, darting
through the river, flung themselves like a torrent upon
the enemy, who sunk under the attack, or fled precipi
tately from the field.
It is to these events that Trevi and its neighbour
hood owe the only interest or celebrity they possess.
But to some minds nothing more will be necessary to
separate them from the rest of the world, and invest
them with many a vision of greatness and terror.
Except to such minds how few marks remain, even of
the deep track cut by the fiery foot of war !

ALBENGA.
Beside the dewy border let me sit,
All in the freshness of the humid air;
There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild,
An ample chair, moss-lined, and over head
By flowering umbrage shaded. Thomson.
Albenga is situated at the base of the mountainous
cape called Capra Goppo, and is reached by a road
from that eminence which runs through a country
bearing the characteristic signs of solitude without
being either waste or rude. The sea, wherever it is
blue and tranquil, imparts a humanizing gentleness to
the most savage breast, and seems to tempt a popula
tion to its borders; and here the Mediterranean flows
in its full strength and serenity ; and there it is looked
down upon from hamlets as gay and sparkling as the
climate. Albenga itself is a large, good town, and, in
addition to the advantages of its situation, boasts some
historical interest. It was here the adventurous and
unfortunate Proculus was born ; one of those victims
of ambition who, at the period when she offered the
empire of the world as the prize at her command, was
tempted to engage in her perilous service. The history
of this man, were its particulars more known, would
probably furnish a curious addition to the examples
we already possess of that bold energy of character
which will carry its possessor to the last step of the

¦HI ^Hm^

ALBENGA. 251
ladder, connected with that vanity which, when he is
there, will induce him to forego his hold, and pre
cipitate him to the ground. Proculus had passed his
life as a pirate ; had the wealth of a king with his
coffers ; had the power such as his habits of life had
taught him how to wield ; but the glittering shadow
of a crown and a purple robe, dazzled the hardy,
reckless sailor, and brought into competition with the
equally intrepid, but more talented, Probus, he lost his
life by the hand of the public executioner. It is said
to have been long after a common proverb in the
mouths of his descendants, " Nee latrones esse, nee
principes sibi placere." Be neither robbers, nor
princes. Albenga has some Roman remains, and there are
the ruins of a bridge built by Proculus, which shows
that, during his brief career, he was not unmindful of
those public works which, to the credit of the Roman
people be it spoken, appear to have been always
required of men who would seek even their temporary
applause.

ALASSIO.
O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down,
Till with his silent sickle they are mown. !Dryden.
Alassio has little to recommend it to attention ;
but a person desirous of indulging himself in romantic
reveries, and setting fear at defiance, will look upon
its strange, unsettled, straggling aspect, with something
like interest and curiosity. The inhabitants are almost
all of them employed in coral fishery ; and Mr. Brock-
edon observes, " that there is no part of the coast
where the character of the people is more decidedly
maritime." The antiquary will find neither statues
nor temples at Alassio, but the same excellent writer
has discovered, that " the cap which the sailors wore
in the days of Ulysses is, still worn by the mariners of
this little port. Notwithstanding, however, this ap
proximation to classical fame, and the tolerably good
circumstances of the people, the neighbourhood is
reported to be infested with desperados,* whose pre-
* My friend, Mr. Brockedon, tells me their aspect is very formidable ;
that almost every boatman has a bandit's eye. It wonld seem they only want
some Fra Paolo at their head to make more noise, and cause some trouble
to the neighbouring authorities. For a more full account of the bandit-
system of Italy and Germany, the reader is referred to the forthcoming
volumes of the " Library of Romance," entitled "Schinderhanncs, the Robber
of the Rhine,"' and " Francesco Lomclli."

253

datory propensities render it unsafe to travel by night,
or without protection. " Yet in Italy," says Dr.
J. Johnson, " even among the bandits of Itri, Fondi,
and Velletri, there is something interesting; if not
positively handsome in the black eyes, roguish ex
pression, and killing looks of the women."
The views along the coast of Alassio are varied by
a constant interchange of mountains and smiling vil
lages, the broad sweep of the smooth strand, and rocks
covered with wild verdure. From the Capo delle
Mele, a head-land in the immediate vicinity of Alassio,
the eye commands one of those lovely maritime pros
pects which fancy pictures when it only thinks of the
blue sea, as gemmed with sunny islands, and traversed
only by barks, bent on voyages of peace. The bay of
Langueglia is seen rippling at the base of the moun
tains, as if it rejoiced in its own beauty ; and, sur
rounded by its waves, the little island of Gallinara,
discerned from the Capo with just sufficient clearness
to let the imagination take part with reality in beautify
ing its narrow shores. Along the whole line of view
the scene holds out temptation to him who has leisure
to think and ramble, and loves to sit among rocks,
and muse "o'er flood and fell," from morn till
dewy eve.

VENTIMIGLIA.
Gentle or rude,
No scene of life but has contributed
Much to remember. Rogers.
Ventimiglia has experienced the fate of larger and
more conspicuous towns. It was anciently a place of
some importance, enjoyed the privileges of a muni
cipality, and was reckoned the capital of the Ligures
Intemelii. The events which dissolved the strength of
the empire reduced it to comparative poverty ; but
the sufferings of its inhabitants have no record — they
were forgotten, like the sigh of the passing wind amid
the roar of an ocean, or like the perishing of a
bramble in the conflagration of a forest. It was, how
ever, out of the ruin of such places that the dense
cloud of confusion and misery arose, which, for so
many centuries, darkened the world, and kept man
kind from the enjoyment of truth and liberty. A
town fell, or lost its trade, or became the prey of
imperial injustice and avarice; and the neighbouring
hills became, at the same time, the fortresses of ban
ditti. The inheritance which each generation left to
that which succeeded it was a worse poverty, and a
greater degree of ignorance. A distinct though petty
channel was dug for the sorrows of the little com
munity, and they only ceased when it crumbled into
dust like a building that the sea has gained upon, and

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VENTIMIGLIA. 255
silently loosened all its foundations. But the situation
of Ventimiglia was favourable to its restoration. It is
on plains, and amid deserts, that cities perish alto
gether. For one that has fallen amid rocks and
mountains, history tells us of a score that lie a mass
of melancholy ruins, on broad and open plains. Ven
timiglia, in the fourteenth century, was again a place
of some consequence, and formed part of the territory
of the celebrated Joan of Naples, when she had pos
session of Provence. By her it was bartered away to
the Genoese, and as a portion of that flourishing
republic was a barrier to the powerful states which
threatened it on the north.
The country about this place is highly picturesque.
A rocky declivity, hewn in one part into abrupt steps,
conducts from the town to the banks of the Roja, a
broad stream, which, having its rise in the Col di
Tende, possesses all the strength and mountain fresh
ness which make rivers seem so much the favourites of
nature in such situations. The falling arch of a half-
ruined bridge, extended across it, harmonizes well with
the general character of the scenery. Rocks are the
ruins of nature ; the dilapidations — the shattered
pillars, — the bared foundations of the old world.
They inspire a feeling of doubt in the stedfastness of
the earth, carrying us farther back in that species of
thought than the ruins of castles or cathedrals. It is
amid broken hills, grey and crumbling rocks, by the
dried-up channels of old rivers, and on the brink of
precipices whence woods have been torn down by
successive storms, that the destruction of works of

256 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
human labour affects the mind with the deepest awe.
The boundaries of time are lost sight of in such scenes,
and it is only when the eye looks upward, and sees
the blue eternal heavens smiling as they have done
from the beginning, that the melancholy sense of
change and decay finds relief.
At a short distance from Ventimiglia is the village
of Bordighera, where a wide extended grove of palm
trees would almost enable the traveller to imagine
himself in another quarter of the globe. On pur
suing his route, a prospect presents itself which few
would not linger some time to enjoy. " The scene
presented to the traveller," observes Mr. Brockedon
with equal truth and elegance, " on looking back
upon Ventimiglia from the high road towards Nice,
which is carried along the edge of the cliff, is very
striking, particularly of the coast immediately below
the town, where the deep fissures, and vast insulated
masses, formed by the action of the sea upon a soft
soil, has given to the cliff a thousand fantastic forms,
while the thick entangling of the Indian fig, and clust-
ters of palm trees, give almost an Asiatic character to
the scene." Few contrasts could be more interesting
than such a one as is here pointed out,— the bold moun
tains of the north shadowing rich and palmy plains !

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NICE.
When the Sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, the goddess bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown, that Sjlvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,
Where the rude axe with heaved stroke
Was never heard, the nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.

Milton.

The situation of this small, but not uninteresting,
town, has given more than one traveller the first occa
sion for dipping his pencil in the warm colours of
southern landscape. It was on the eve of Christmas-
day that the learned and amiable Mr. Forsyth arrived
in Nice ; and he speaks pleasantly and eloquently of the
bright blossoms, and the odour of the orange-trees
that bloomed in the orchards before the windows of his
chamber. The narrow plain, at the extremity of which
the city is situated, is irrigated by a small, rapid
stream, called the Paglione ; the waters of which,
when increased by the winter rains, fall with great
violence through the various channels of the neigh
bouring mountains. On the line of hills, which skirt
the valley to the north, the landscape assumes a cha
racter of the most luxurious beauty. The light, gay
tracery of the vine is contrasted with the deep, quiet
foliage of the olive and the broad, palmy fig ; while
these again are intermingled with the gigantic aloe;
s

258

THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.

towering over the light and yellow orangeries. Towards
Italy the hills wear a bolder and less sparkling
appearance. Masses of dark rock, clothed with a
verdure, in character with their look of strength and
duration, shut out the view from the sunny plains that
lie beyond.
The neighbourhood of a town, thus situated, can
scarcely fail of affording ample delight to the lovers of
the picturesque ; and he, who has a sufficient love of
scenery to ramble from the city to Villa Franca, and
the convents of San Sermione, and San Paolo, and the
Vallina of San Andrea, will not forget Nice, even
after having long wandered among the landscapes
farther south. The last named spot is characterised by
a circumstance which deserves to be mentioned, from
the connexion which it forms between these scenes,
and those consecrated to the heart by the name of
Petrarch. It is to the ingenious Miss Waldie we are
indebted for the discovery. We learn, from the des
cription of the valley by that lady, that it is widest at
the entrance ; and that, after having become gradually
narrower in its windings among the hills, it is termi
nated by a precipitous and insulated rock, which rears
itself up about the middle of the valley, connected with
the sides by double rows of arches ; serving the pur
poses of aqueducts and foot-bridges ; and surmounted
by a castle, once a convent, but now belonging to a
Piedmontese nobleman. The view from this point is
stated to be highly beautiful ; but, on proceeding beyond
the castle, it assumes a yet more attractive appearance.
The valley becomes narrower, and proportionably more

nice. 259
dark and wild ; the steep banks, with their heavy pine
foliage, appear about to close upon the river that pours
between them ; and the whole scene is characterized
by a gloom, to which the rushing of the river gives
that same kind of influence over the mind, which it
seems impressed by, when approaching the end of a
tale of great interest. In speaking, however, of the
torrent, Miss Waldie remarks : " Like that of Vaucluse,
it derives its source from a deep grotto at the head of
the valley. Indeed, the whole scenery of San Andrea
resembles, in no slight degree, the more celebrated re
treat of Petrarch. But the perpendicular rock that
closes it up — that peculiar feature of the valley of
Vaucluse — is wanted here. The fountain, however, or,
as it is more commonly called, the grotto of San Andrea,
though not so deep, is much more beautiful than that
from which the Sorgue rises. Its interior is lined
with stalactites ; and the soft, fragile, light green leaf
of the capillaire plant hangs luxuriantly and gracefully
from the roof." Such is this beautiful spot, so little
known to the generality of travellers, and so little
famed in tour books, compared with others much less
deserving description, that we are led to conclude that
mountains and valleys have much the same diversity of
fortune as men.
Villa Franca presents a scene of a different charac
ter. It is situated immediately by the sea-side, and is
sheltered by an immense range of mountains ; up the
crags of which it has been extended, partly, perhaps,
by the caprice, and partly by the necessities of the
inhabitants. Fort Montalbano, and the convent above-
s 2

260 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
named, offer another variety of scenery. The former
commands a view of the long line of rocks, that hang
beetling over the Mediterranean, and of no less than
six bays, penetrating a coast of equal fertility and gran
deur. The latter lie embosomed in hills, the very
nests of solitude and meditation.
Nice, itself, contains some objects of interest — a ca
thedral and one or two other public buildings — but
its streets have only their cleanliness to recommend
them, and the Vent de bise, as it is called, which
sweeps through them, in the early months of the year,
have cut off many a blossom, which it was hoped the
genial south might have spared. Its climate unites the
capriciousness of the spring with the glow of the sum
mer ; a mixture well calculated to give beauty and
variety to the landscape, but fatal to the delicate
beings that are so often led, like sacrifices, with flowers
of the brightest hues about their heads, to expire amid
its luxuries.*

* It is justly remarked, by my friend Dr. James Johnson, that there is no
doubt that the change of air and scene — the novelty of a residence under the
brilliant skies of this beautiful place — and the ability to be a great deal in the
open air, must have very considerable and salutary effects on many people
whose general health is deranged, but whose lungs are not materially affected.
 The whole of the surrounding mountains, and even the hills close to
Nice, were hoary with snow when I passed through, though December had
not quite set in. The year 1829 was, however, remarkable for premature and
severe cold, as I dearly experienced on the mountain of Finale, the Es
trelles, and the cheerless plains of Provence. — Change of Air, 8rc.

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ENTRANCE TO IVREA.
1 love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. Byron.
Like the other towns of this lonely district, Ivrea
presents a singular aspect, standing as it does among
the noblest monuments of nature's strength, but com
posed of dwellings which, grotesque and picturesque in
their forms, have a strikingly fragile appearance when
contrasted with the mountains which soar around them
How widely different are the feelings of a traveller,
at the gate of one of these rock- entrenched towns, to
those which arise at the entrance of places lying in
the midst of calm and cultivated plains. Feeble
as would seem the defence of its frail roofs against
the storm, the sense of safety which he experiences in
the poorest cabaret amounts to a feeling of intense
pleasure. And it is this sensation which chiefly occu
pies the breast in all situations of a like kind. Curi
osity has no food, and imagination ceases her flight at
the prospect of human habitations and industry ; but
the sensation of security, raised to a certain height, is
itself poetical, and is, no doubt, the source both of
that over-powering love of home which characterizes

262 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
mountaineers, and of many of the benevolent quali
ties with which it is associated. Happy ! tranquil
Ivrea ! we enter thy gate with a benison for thine
inhabitants ; thou hast cradled many a generation of
hardy peasants, each of whom could give a history of
tempests, and pictures of nature that might delight the
truest of poets and painters to treasure up and re
create. Humble as is thy aspect, we feel how far sub-
limer is the spot where the stream of human life is
flowing, than the grandest exhibitions of scenery where
it is not. The entrance to Ivrea is, as it were, a par
tition-mark between the domain of man and nature ;
or rather, perhaps, a sign set up to show where the
two currents of existence flow together. To the eyes
of some travellers, however, it will present nothing
but an object of great picturesque beauty ; but others
will view it as one from which the mind may take
its excursive flight over a wide and pleasant region of
thought.

VERREX.
Here truth may far from every mortal shock,
Allow sweet thoughts in nature's lonely bed ;
And find a friend in every leaf or rock,
And watch each Alpine flower upraise its head,
Bathed in the spray from fresh'ning fountain shed.
Here vulgar care forgetting, we resign
Tumult and toil and envy ; being dead
To all save nature's loveliness divine,
Whose influence may to peace the wearied heart incline.
Beattie.
The town of Verrex offers nothing but its pictu
resque situation to attract attention. It is unfamed
in history, and therefore, perhaps, has remained the
same quiet retreat, which it now appears, for many
a generation of mountaineers. It stands about a
league and a half below the narrow pass of Mount
Jovet, overhung by hills which, by turns, wear the
gentlest aspect of summer, and, by turns, seem piled
above the valleys, to be the nursing holds of winter.
Nothing can exceed the beauty of these little moun
tain towns, considered in connexion with all the cir
cumstances of their situation. The stillness which
pervades them, when the air is calm, is strangely
solemn. With the first awakening of a storm among
the hills, the wild whispering of the wind through its
streets is as unearthly a sound as the ear can receive ;
and what can equal in terrible grandeur the echoes
and reverberations of the tempest when at its height ?

264 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
when clouds, and avalanches, torrents overflowing
their rocky channels, and forests crashing beneath the
whirlwind, contribute to produce a din in which no
distinct sound can be discovered, except every now and
then a wild, bursting report, such as is heard in a
storm at sea, when the mass of waters has been lifted
to the clouds, and the wind tumbles them down, as it
would a mighty edifice. The little town, lying tran
quilly at rest, while the tempest is thus raging in the
mountains, wakens many a thought that it does the
heart good to cherish ; it leads to the feeling that not
the strength of the beast of the forest only has been
subdued for man, but the powers of the mysterious air, — -
that the Almighty has spread his tabernacle round the
habitations of his creatures, and that their helpless
ness is strong in his protection.*

* For some curious details respecting the ancient inhabitants of this wild
and romantic region, and their strange and fearful subjection by the Romans,
who overwhelmed them in their caverns by turning in the waters of the ad
jacent river, we refer the reader to Mr. Brockedon's able work— so full of
interest—" The Passes of the Alps."

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FORT DE BARD.

O'er Bernard's cloud-capt heights the Corsican —
Oh look, and say, has genius any bound ?
A star then brighUy shining in the van,
Led on the strength of waken'd Gaul, and found
Mowers to reap Marengo's harvest ground.
Soon as the martial pageantry uprose,
The summits bowed beneath the clanking sound
Of trampling horses echoing o'er the snows
Of the indignant Alps, astonished at such foes. Byron.

There are some events which, like the noblest order
of paintings, impress the mind with the species of awe,
which others only acquire, when aided by the associa
tions of antiquity. Many of those of the late war are
of this description, and the passage of the French
army over the Alps affects the imagination with a plea
sure, in no way inferior to that inspired by the re
collection of Hannibal and his Carthagineans. Thus
equal, in matter of interest, the modern event has the
important advantage of having a certain locality. The
fancy suffers as much as the reason from scepticism ;
and we are half inclined, as a matter of speculation,
to suspect that it has more affinity with it. It is thus that
in the enjoyment of scenes, which owe part of their
grandeur to association, the slightest doubt that enters
the mind, respecting the truth of the association, ruins
the whole fabric of the imagination ; and the hoary

266 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
mountain or the whispering aisles of the abbey, are at
once dispossessed of their charm. The path which
Hannibal trod may have, and very probably has, been
discovered through the patient and bold labours of mo
dern travellers ; but it is still not unlawful to doubt,
that Napoleon's route, rather than that of Hannibal, will
be the one which the eye of the traveller will trace'with
the greatest enthusiasm.
Fort de Bard is one of the strongest positions in the
passes of the Alps, and gave occasion to one of the
most brilliant displays of French valour, and Buona
parte's generalship, on record. The Great Saint
Bernard had been just past by the army, when, still on
its adventurous and too successful career, it arrived
before Fort de Bard. The importance of the station had
been fully estimated by the Austrians ; and a garrison
of four hundred men, protected by its works, seemed
sufficient to defy the whole strength of France. The
design of forcing a passage through this formidable
barrier was evidently one of desperate peril. But the
fate of the army, in a great measure, and the issue of
the campaign altogether, depended upon its being
effected. The provisions which the soldiers had brought
with them were already nearly exhausted ; and the na
ture of the surrounding district prevented their indulg
ing the hope of further supplies. In this situation of
things, an order was given for the assault of the town,
which was speedily taken, and laid open to the free
ingress of the troops. But its streets, the approach to
which was now wholly undefended, were exposed to
the close fire of the batteries ; and instant destruction,

FORT DE BARD. 267
it is said, must have attended any attempt to pass
them, while the fort remained untaken. The French
grenadiers, however, made several daring essays to
overcome the obstacles which opposed their progress,
but failed. At length, a party of fifteen hundred sol
diers climbed the precipitous mountain of Alberedo,
which commanded the fort ; and having, with almost
incredible labour and courage, placed a four pounder
on the extreme verge of the precipice, subdued, in some
degree, the confidence of the garrison. Generals
Berthier and Marmont, seeing the effect of this experi
ment, now determined upon making an attempt to pass
through the town. The movement was to be made in
the night ; and the wheels of the artillery waggons
having been carefully covered with litter, it was hoped
that the darkness and silence in which the troops would
pass, might protect them from the fire of the batteries.
But in this respect they were deceived. The march had
no sooner commenced, than a furious cannonade was
opened upon them. Battalion after battalion, however,
rushed through the streets; each gun being drawn by a
band of fifty soldiers. In this manner the passage through
the town was effected ; and one of the gates of the fort
having been, in the mean time, battered down by a
cannon placed in the belfry of the church, the garrison
saw itself deprived of all means of defence.
To those who love to exercise their imagination, in
questioning what would have been the course of events,
had they been turned a little out of the channel, in which
we have seen them flowing, this attack on Fort de
Bard will afford an interesting theme' for speculation.

268 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
Had it not been taken, the plains of Marengo would
probably never have resounded to the roar of the
French cannon; the old cities of the Rhine would
never have heard the triumphant voices of Parisian con
querors; and Germany would have remained wrapped
up in her learned and dreamy security. All Europe
would have fallen into its former repose. The turbulent
and ambitious spirit of France would have, perhaps,
mistrusted its power, and gone to sleep, or employed
its might on some more profitable object. Knowledge,
and all the results of science would, it may be, by
this time have carried us to inconceivable heights;
and, instead of the names of Napoleon, and others of
his class, appearing as the great land-marks of history,
we should have had those of mightier philosophers and
poets than any that have yet flourished. Thirty years
of war would have been enough to throw states, less
advanced than were those of Europe at their com
mencement, into barbarism ; but, though they have not
done this, we may fairly calculate that they have de
prived us of a proportionable measure of improvement.
It is thus the taking of a little Swiss mountain fortress
may have influenced the destinies of Europe and the
world.

ENTRANCE TO AOSTA.
And now farewell to Italy — perhaps
For ever ! Yet, melhinks, I could not go,
I could not leave it, were il mine to say
" Farewell for ever 1" RoGV.ns.
We now approach that part of the land of our
wandering where the poet and the philosopher, — the
calm, meditative scholar, — the laborious, adventurous
naturalist, — and the mere lover of nature in her soli
tary beauty may alike find employment and delight.
Were a speculatist to ask by the union of what two
countries would the loveliest landscapes, the brightest
valleys, the grandest mountains be produced, we would
answer by that of Switzerland and Italy ; and here,
at the gate of Aosta, we might stand, and demonstrate
the truth of our remark. There is scarce a foot of
ground, for leagues around this spot, from which some
scene of surpassing interest is not visible. It is here
the hills lift their giant-peaks to be crowned with the
most radiant sun-light, the snows of many centuries
lying in crystal brightness about them, the fit mantle
of forms so majestic. Here too, the water-courses
take every mood of the scene ; become the inter
preters to the " genius loci," or embody the spirit
of the hill and the valley, where they love to make

270 THE LANDSCAPE ANNUAL.
their way, in visible pomp, to the depth of gloomy
chasms. And here, in untrodden paths, spring the
lovely family of herbs and flowers, stronger in stem
and bloom than in other lands, breathing of the sweet
dews that reach their roots through many a marble
filter, and glowing with tints as deep as the longest
summer can make them. A traveller, with sufficient
leisure and love of solitude, and who could find as
much interest in exploring the by-paths of nature as
the remains of ancient art, would find more of truth
than fancy in what we have stated. But the Val
d' Aosta has been rarely thus explored, and never, per
haps, was traversed as it ought but by one; and, that
a wild, melancholy, reckless being, the poor leper, to
whom tradition has assigned the name of the valley,
The leper of Aoste ! The very appellation inspires
the mind with a feeling of awe and pity, mingled with
an unaccountable sensation of pleasurable interest.
A man shut out from communion with his kind, but
shut out from the world only to be driven into
the bosom of his mother nature, there is something in
the idea of such a banishment as attractive to minds of
a certain class, or in a certain state, as it is painful to
others. The sympathies of the heart seem to be
extended by the change , rather than cut off from their
proper objects ; the sorrow that tinges thought with
sombre hues, gives it power and depth ; imagination
stands on the threshold of its own world when the eye
rests on solitude ; and it only requires a free conscience,
of which affliction in no ways deprives us, to render
such a state one of high and unchanging pleasure. The

ENTRANCE TO AOSTA. 271
only pain which a mind thus circumstanced would
feel, is that resulting from a conscious sense of weak
ness and earthliness. The poet has well said :
'Tis on such spots that the exulting soul
Its earthly dreariment must learn to weep,
And feel the bitterness of its control,
In which the vulgar, all contented, sleep ;
That weight of searchless sorrow burned deep
In the dark clouds of this impervious lair ;
Where gloomy thoughts communion often keep,
Stinging the soul, which bleeds that it must bear
Such burdens, amid scenes incomparably fair.
A Day in Switzerland.

J. Haddon, Printer, Castle Street. Finsbury.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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