The Project Gutenberg eBook, Pictures in Umbria, by Katharine S. (Katharine Sarah) Macquoid, Illustrated by Thomas R. Macquoid

Transcriber's Note:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original document have been preserved.

The book consistently refers to "El Poverello", perhaps a typographical error for "Il Poverello".

PICTURES IN UMBRIA

TRAVEL BOOKS BY
THE SAME WRITER.

THROUGH NORMANDY.

THROUGH BRITTANY.

PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY.

IN THE ARDENNES.

ABOUT YORKSHIRE.

IN THE VOLCANIC EIFEL WITH GILBERT S. MACQUOID.

IN PARIS WITH GILBERT S. MACQUOID.

Illustrated by
THOMAS R. MACQUOID, R.I.

VIA APPIA

PICTURES IN UMBRIA

By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID
WITH FIFTY ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS
By THOMAS R. MACQUOID, R.I.

NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
LONDON: T. WERNER LAURIE
MDCCCCV

Fertile costa d'alto monte pende,

Onde Perugia sente freddo e caldo

Da Porta Sole, ...

Di quella costa là, dov'ella frange

Più sua rattezza, nacque al mondo un Sole,

Come fa questo tal volta di Gange.

Però chi d'esso loco fa parole,

Non dica Ascesi, chè direbbe corto,

Ma Oriente, se proprio dir vuole.

Non era ancor molto lontan dall'orto,

Chè cominciò a far sentir la terra

Della sua gran virtude alcun conforto.

"Del Paradiso," Canto XI.

To

ARCHIBALD EARL OF ROSEBERY, K.G.

WHO HAS KINDLY PERMITTED US

TO OFFER HIM THE DEDICATION

OF THIS BOOK

THOMAS R. AND KATHARINE S. MACQUOID

April 1905

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THOMAS R. MACQUOID, R.I.

NOTE

Our book treats of a few of the Hill-cities of Umbria, but it does not attempt exhaustive detail in regard to Perugia, Assisi, or any other.

Several old contemporary writers have greatly helped the book, notably the delightful chronicler Matarazzo, and some of his fellows; besides the "Legend of the Three Companions," and the very quaint "Fioretti di San Francesco."

"The Life of San Bernardino of Siena," by Pierre Clément, was also very useful. In the book itself I speak of the great enjoyment I found in Monsieur Paul Sabatier's thoughtful "Vie de Saint François d'Assisi," and in Miss Lina Duff Gordon's charming "Story of Assisi."

KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.

The Edge, Tooting Common
April 1905

PICTURES IN UMBRIA

CHAPTER I
AN ANCIENT HILL-CITY

It has been said that the face which exercises most permanent charm is the face whose attractions defy analysis; one in which beauty is subtle, compounded of many and varied qualities, so that, gazing at the harmonious whole, it is impossible to specialise its fascination.

Such a face will not, at first, reveal its charm, for much of this does not lie only in regularity of feature, or in beauty of colouring, nor even in the trick of a smile; the spell is so potent, that when one at last tries to find out its secret, the mind refuses to dispel the sweet illusion by any such work-a-day process, and agrees with the hasheesh smoker, "to enjoy the sweet dream while it lasts."

Places, as well as faces, exert this undefined attraction, but in the former, association often intrudes itself, a conscious ingredient in the witchery they possess for us.

I am just now thinking of a city where much of the historic association is repulsive, even horrible; looking at the old grey walls of Perugia, the mind strays backward, to times when these ancient palaces with barred lower windows were gloomy fortresses, in which ghastly tragedies were acted over and over again.

In some of the old houses dissolute sons plotted how to murder their fathers and brothers, how to commit every sort of crime; blood has run like water in the grass-grown streets and piazzas,—and not only with the blood of an Oddi, shed by a fierce Baglione, the two leading families always fighting for power in their city: the one party being Guelph, and the other Ghibelline.

There was even worse strife than this: at times near and dear kinsmen fought hand to hand in the constant brawls of Perugia; murder was done in the churches, even before the high altar of the cathedral.

Softer, quainter memories, however, linger in this hill-throned and hill-girdled city, and permeate the atmosphere, in spite of the "reek of blood" which, a poet once told me, "taints Perugia."

Up the brick-stepped way, beneath a tall dark arch, came, even in those years of rapine and murder, the grave Urbino painter, Giovanni Sanzio, with his fair-haired son, Raffaelle. Giovanni came to Perugia to place the lad with the illiterate genius of Città del Pieve, Pietro Vannucci, whose praise was in every one's mouth, and who had already set up a school and was ranked a great painter. The Perugians still fondly call him "il nostro Perugino." It is said that Pietro was born in the ancient hill-city.

One feels sure that Raffaelle must have been petted and tenderly loved. The father and son made a striking picture as they came from the dark archway into the sunlight,—Raffaelle mounted on his mule, his dainty locks falling over his shoulders in glossy waves of brightness.

Years before he came, the sun saw a very different picture, when poor, roughly clad, coarse-featured Cristoforo Vannucci came trudging along on foot from Città del Pieve, holding the red fist of his little son, Pietro. The square-faced, square-headed boy was only eleven years old, yet his father already firmly believed in his genius, and had brought him all the way from Città del Pieve to present him to the great Umbrian master, Benedetto Bonfigli, who was then at work on the famous frescoes still to be seen in the Palazzo Pubblico of Perugia. There are, both in the Sala del Cambio and elsewhere in the city, proofs that Raffaelle actually worked here, and that he studied under Perugino with Pinturicchio, Lo Spagna, Eusebio di San Giorgio, and the great master's other pupils.

One learns in Perugia how the student from Città del Pieve raised the tone and widened the scope of the existing Umbrian school, and gave to it a grace and ease, to say nothing of higher qualities, which have rarely been excelled. Yet, except in the frescoes of the beautiful Sala del Cambio, much of Perugino's best work is to be found elsewhere, rather than in the town wherein he established his academy, and from which he took his name as a painter.

The southern side of the city holds a still more absorbing association in the gate near the old church and convent of San Pietro de Casinensi; for by this gate is the way to Assisi, and it has often been trodden by Francesco Bernardone and his disciples.

But I am straying from my text: the mysterious fascination which the grey old city on the hill has for those who linger in it.

I have been told that some travellers "do" Perugia in six hours, or between trains; I have heard the Via Appia compared with the Holborn Viaduct; but these travellers do not come under the spell of the place; they see only an old city, part Etruscan, part Roman, chiefly mediæval, perched on top of a hill, girt with massive walls which look down thirteen hundred feet and more, to the fertile valley of the Tiber.

The steep slopes as they descend are in summer-time silver with olive-groves, golden with plots of maize; later on they are studies of golden-green and yellow, with richly festooned vines laden with fruit.

These rapid travellers may, perhaps, admire the triple ranges of purple Apennines that on every side form a varied background to this picturesque fertility, and to the lesser hills below them, spurs projecting boldly forward into the deep valley, above which the old city shows her towers and massive walls; they will, perhaps, notice, as they go downhill again, how quaintly the wall is carried in and out, starwise, as it follows the indentations of the hills, and how boldly at each projecting angle a warmly tinted tower stands out against the sky. They can hardly fail to observe these salient features; but they will not have time to study the varied form of each hill, or to watch the sun set opposite grand old Monte Subasio.

That is a sight worth going far to see; the intense glow dyes the white houses of Assisi as they cling to the mountain-side, a pale rose against the flame-like orange tint that seems to burn in the very heart of Subasio, rather than to be reflected from the opposite side of the horizon.

And the hurrying travellers will not have time to enjoy the charming drives among the olives in the valley, or to visit the many places of interest which can be reached from Perugia. They go home, and say, "Oh yes, we saw Perugia,—a dull old city, without a shop worth looking into."

A part of the indescribable fascination of the place is felt in long wanderings through the narrow streets, often deeply shadowed by tall palaces with grated windows and bricked-up doorways.

Come with me under a lofty archway, made with uncemented stones on either side, so huge that surely giants must have placed them in position. Now we are in a vaulted way, beneath ancient houses built over the street; these archways are frequent, sometimes low-browed and round-headed, mere tunnels through which one almost gropes one's way, and finds at the farther end a sudden descent down a flight of half-ruined brick steps, which turn so quickly that a keen interest insists they must be followed to the end. Sometimes the arch is Etruscan, tall and pointed, and instead of a descent, steps go upwards to another lofty archway with a darkness beyond it that still beckons on the explorer.

Day after day I have wandered up and down those twisting, hilly streets, often losing my way, and as often stumbling upon some fresh interest; some portion of Etruscan wall, or some exquisite point of view; a vista at the far-off end of a street, and often when this is arrived at, a grander and more varied picture, with part of Perugia for foreground.

One may easily lose one's way in Perugia. At first the city seemed to us a hopeless maze of twisting streets; but after a little we succeeded in realising the peculiarity of its form. It is said to be that of a star; but it is more like a lobster, with its head on one side, and outstretched tail and claws; or it is like a comet with star-shaped sides, the head on its long neck inclined westward, and a longer tail pointing south-east.

A great charm for those who stay in this city is the comfortable, home-like resting-place to be found in the Hotel Brufani. On our first visit this hotel was in progress of erection, but its predecessor existed in the house on the spur of the hill, outside the city gates. We have been told that the Albergo di Belle Arti is both very comfortable and moderate.

I shall not soon forget the delight of that first arrival.

The heat was so intense in Tuscany that we could not travel in daytime, so we left Florence at night, and had a dull, sleepy journey, arriving at Perugia towards morning.

As we came into the hall and the long corridor of the hotel, the dim light fell mysteriously on plants and flowers, showing curios on the wall behind them; to our joy, when we reached our charming cool room and opened the persiennes, we saw the exquisite light of early morning crowning the dim, far-off hills.

The day dawned golden with sunshine, the air breathed a delightful freshness. We strolled into the garden, which had at one end two majestic aloes in full bloom and a group of sun-flowers. Oleanders, covered with rosy blossoms, stood at the garden entrance; beyond was a bower of golden-green acacias, wreathed to their topmost branches with blue and white morning glories; below us we saw a varied landscape, the distant hills tinted with delicate morning light.

We found our quarters delightful, and our host and hostess full of attentive kindness. This was continued when the hotel removed to its present quarters in the large house at the beginning of the city. The views from the Brufani Hotel terrace and windows are superb; they command both the Val di Tevere and several points of the town itself.

Alas! both our good hosts, Signor and Madame Brufani, have passed away, but the well-arranged house remains, and is said to be very comfortable still.

ALOES IN BLOOM.

CHAPTER II
MARKET-DAY IN PERUGIA

RAFFAELLE.

The day after our arrival we went up some steps near the hotel, bordered by aloes not yet in bloom, and gemmed with brilliant-eyed lizards darting in and out in the sunshine; presently we found ourselves under the lofty walls that once supported the fortress built by command of Pope Paul III., on the site of the Baglioni palaces. In this wall is bricked up an ancient Etruscan gate—the Porta Marzia, which came in the way of this erection.

One is glad, for the sake of freedom, to think that not so many years ago the citizens of Perugia pulled down and utterly destroyed this hated fortress, set up by the tyrant Pope when the hill-city submitted to his dominion.

From a picturesque point of view, the fortress was probably more in harmony with the old streets behind it, especially with the frowning walls, than are the modern buildings that now border the new Piazza Vittor Emanuele, and take off the charm of approach on this side.

One need not, however, enter Perugia by way of Piazza Vittor Emanuele. Keeping below the huge wall, beside an avenue of green acacias, we climbed by a wide flight of shallow brick steps past the picturesque church of San Ercolano, then went through a lofty archway, with huge projecting imposts, into a street with tall, grey houses on either side.

One of these was evidently the back of a palace, and indeed it forms part of the Palazzo Baglione which fronts the next street, Via Riario; the very name Baglione made one shiver, remembering the chronicles of that bloodthirsty race.

We halted here before a shop, to its owner, a well-to-do merchant of Perugia, we had been given an introduction; he most courteously offered to show us his wine cellar, in which is a portion of the veritable Etruscan wall of Perugia, in excellent preservation. Some of the stones are about thirteen feet long and eighteen inches thick, huge uncemented blocks of travertine. The floor of the cellar is formed by the ancient way, so that one actually treads the road used by Etruscans before Rome was thought of!

The amount of forced labour represented by these walls of Perugia is painful to think of, for the stones in the merchant's cellar must have been brought from a very great distance. The blocks of travertine are certainly the finest specimens we saw in the city. The old wall went on from them by way of the Porta Marzia to the Porta Eburnea, then northwards (there are visible fragments of it in the Rione Eburnea) till it reached the famous arch near the Piazza Grimani, and so on eastward to Monte Sole, where it took a southern course again, to join the remains in Signor Betti's cellar.

The house stands on the edge of the hill, and from its back windows there is an extended view over the country on that side, and, looking south, over the garden of San Pietro de Casinensi, then kept in order by the boys of the reformatory. The fine old machicolated spire of San Pietro and the quaint campanile of San Domenico are striking landmarks from the high road winding out to the Tiber and Ponte San Giovanni.

We discovered one secret in the charm of Perugia when we turned from this lovely and varied landscape to the vivid contrast offered by the old grey street.

SAN DOMENICO
PERUGIA

Near to Signor Betti's house is a little curiosity shop, and in its window was a proof that the belief in "mal occhio" still exists among the peasants. Hanging from a rough brass watch chain, much the worse for wear, was a little bunch of hairs from a horse's tail, set as a charm, and considered to be a specific against "mal occhio," or any spell cast on horses, cows, etc. Near it was an irregular, stumpy bit of coral, a man's safeguard against a like disaster.

During our stay in Perugia we made acquaintance with Signor Bellucci, a very learned and courteous professor of the university, who most kindly showed us in his rooms, not only a very interesting and valuable collection of implements and other articles, beginning at the Stone Age, but also a collection of amulets and charms. Some of these, especially those for protection from lightning, are bits of prehistoric stones, and exhibit a grotesque mingling of pagan and mediæval superstition.

A little case embroidered with the Agnus Dei contained a triangular stone arrow-head, and this, the Professor said, used to be hung at the bed-head of the owner, between pictures of saints; on the occasion of a storm, candles were lighted, and prayers were offered before the amulet.

This collection of charms amounts to nearly two hundred specimens; it is full of interest, and it would require many pages to do it justice.

A very curious amulet was the fragment of a human skull enclosed in a little brass reliquary, considered to be a sovereign protection against epilepsy and kindred disorders. Tradition said that this bit of bone had belonged to the skull of a person, dead some two hundred years before, who had worked so many wonderful cures by his skill in medicine, and had lived such a long and saintly life, that he had been loved and venerated by all.

The Professor told us it was not uncommon, when a body was dug up in the course of excavations, to find a bit of the skull missing, and this amulet doubtless explained the use that had been made of such lost fragments.

Another charm was a little cross of holly-wood carved by Capuchin friars; it had been found hanging at an old woman's bed-head, to protect her from the spells of a witch. She would only part from it on condition that she might reserve some splinters of the wood, so as to prevent the witch from visiting her, and tormenting her for having parted from her safeguard.

In Brittany we often saw a branch of holly hanging beside the bed for the same purpose. There were corals in this Perugian collection of various shapes, for women and children, for safety in teething, for protection against "mal occhio," to stop bleeding, and above all, for the cure of melancholy. The dark stone with red spots, which I have heard called in England bloodstone, is said to be infallible in checking bleeding; it must be useful in a country where blood-letting and leeching are still common and frequent remedies.

One of the most amusing of the charms was a heart-shaped agate with a hole through the top. This was found in a house not far from Perugia, where from time immemorial it had been held in reverence, and in which its influence was supposed to have maintained perfect harmony among the inmates of the house. Professor Bellucci did not tell us why its possessors were willing to give it up: did they want a little change from this perpetual harmony?

Belief in witches is still very prevalent in Umbria. They are said to haunt cross-roads persistently at night-time, it is also said that he who walks late in the environs of Perugia will do well to carry a few small coins in his pocket, and to fling them abroad as an offering when he comes near to a cross-road, for assuredly a witch lies there in ambush, ready to work him harm. Also, when the traveller sees in some unfrequented by-road a heap of stones beside the way, he must at once add another stone to this cairn, so that he may keep down the phantom of the murdered traveller, whose unblessed body has been hastily put underground in the lonely spot.

FOUNTAIN OUTSIDE SAN DOMENICO.

Among these ciottoli, however, I did not see any of the charming little coral hands to be found farther south, with the forefinger and little finger, the other fingers closed, pointed in defence against "mal occhio." It is possible that this belief in the virtue of coral may have originated the custom of the long coral necklace so frequently worn by the peasant women of Umbria.

San Domenico is near the Professor's house; a flight of steps leads up to the church, and before it is a fountain bearing on its side the Griffin of Perugia. The lofty campanile makes this church conspicuous from every part of the city. It must have been tall, indeed, before the tyrannical Pope ordered its two upper storeys to be demolished. The original church is said to have been built early in the fourteenth century, from the designs of Giovanni Pisano; it was, however, almost all rebuilt three centuries later. The very large and richly coloured east window, and the beautiful tomb with its remarkable canopy, were both in the first church. The tomb, that of Pope Benedict XI., who died in Perugia from eating poisoned figs, is the work of Giovanni Pisano. Some intarsia work in the choir stalls is very good, but with this exception, and the Pope's monument, San Domenico is not nearly so interesting as San Pietro de' Casinensi.

Past the little Gothic church of San Ercolano, and a line of acacias with exquisite yellow-green foliage, the tender greys of the city seemed suddenly galvanised into vivacious colour, for Piazza Sopra Mura was thronged with merry chattering crowds of market buyers and sellers; many of the handsome peasant women standing or sitting behind their wares wore a necklace of coral beads.

PIAZZA SOPRA MURA.

This long Piazza is built on substructures which connect the two hills on which Perugia stands; these substructures are said to be in some places built on the foundation of the Etruscan wall. The Piazza itself is full of infinite variety: on the right are two quaint grey mediæval palaces, with balconies and windows; the Palazzo del Capitano del Popolo or del Podestà, and the ancient university, are now used as Law Courts. One can fancy the sometimes inflammatory, sometimes soothing discourses that have been pronounced from the ringhiera of the ancient Palazzo del Capitano del Popolo. Nearly opposite this building stands a fountain. The laughing, gesticulating, ever-moving crowd in the market-place, and the brilliant hues of tomatoes, melons, and vegetables, made one's eyes ache. There was a certain sobriety in the colour of the women's gowns, for the most part pale lilac or yellow cotton prints, with sometimes white jackets enlivened by the favourite necklace of coral beads.

The dark eyes, brilliant skins, and the red-gold hair of many of these women actually seemed to burn under the gay flower-like headkerchiefs, which looked at a little distance like some huge tulip-bed, so bright was the orange, chocolate, scarlet, and rose colour mingled with white and green. The laughing women mostly showed white, even teeth. The buzz of talk and laughter was so gay and animated that one wondered they could manage the buying and selling in such a hubbub.

We especially noticed an old dame, her white hair showing under a gay kerchief with a sea-green border, and a bunch of roses in the corner hanging behind her head. She too had a long string of coral, that set off the orange-brown of her skin and her clear blue eyes. Her features were regular; she had not lost her teeth, so that the form of her mouth was still good. She had been bargaining and gesticulating with a dark lustrous-eyed girl, with blue-black hair, for a pair of snowy struggling pigeons, and when she went back to her place behind a basket of ripe figs she moved like an old Juno.

Some of the young women were singularly handsome. Among these peasants and the people of Perugia we noticed two distinct types of face: regular features and deeply set eyes, like the faces in the old tomb of the Volumni, were frequent; some of these faces had blue eyes and beautiful red-gold hair, and were set on round pillar-like throats and well-developed figures. Others—and perhaps the greater number of the town shop-keeping class—had a far less refined type of face, turned-up noses and sensual mouths; though many of them were very attractive, especially when they wore the graceful black lace mantilla, so well suited to their brilliant complexions, dark shining eyes, and full red lips. Some of the men were also handsome, but not so well grown as the women were.

Probably the custom of carrying a huge basket or a tall pitcher on her head, up and down the hills and hilly streets, gives to the peasant woman in Umbria the stately grace that distinguishes her movements.

These peasants seem to take an interest in foreigners, and are much pleased to be spoken to by them. One girl who kept a handkerchief stall greatly amused us. I had been trying to bargain with her for some of her gaily-coloured wares, but she asked such a price that I turned away; she came after me, almost crying:

"If the signora will explain her ideas on the subject, we may be able to arrange," she said.

I am bound to say that we met with much courtesy and fair dealing in Perugia. Even at the fruit-stalls, where we stood studying heaps of lemons, full of colour from bluish green to most golden of yellows, the owner left us in peace, and seemed pleased that we should take our fill of gazing.

But the market is soon over; the baskets empty quickly; the unhappy turkeys and cocks and hens, tied by the feet, are soon handed over head downwards to fresh owners; the lemon heaps, some exquisitely green, with a leaf or so hanging from the fruit stalks, have dwindled till the remaining fruit lies flat on the large board near the fountain; of the scarlet army of tomatoes not one is left, and all the cool, pink-fleshed slices of water melon, sown with black seeds, have disappeared.

CHAPTER III
FONTE DI PERUGIA

NICOLO PISANO.

The next morning we took our way up a side turning into the Corso, the handsomest street in Perugia. The shop windows had the day before been made extra gay, to attract the market-sellers; they still showed long strings of cut coral beads.

There is a mass of fine, as well as interesting, fourteenth century building on the left of the Corso: the Collegio del Cambio, and the Palazzo del Pubblico, or, as it is also called, Palazzo Comunale. This has a richly-sculptured doorway, and ends on the Piazza del Duomo; it has quaint iron lamps. On this Piazza, and facing us, we saw the unfinished stone and brick work of the Cathedral, San Lorenzo, with its outside pulpit, from which St. Bernardino preached to the people.

On the left stands the Palace called the Canonica or Seminary, with its cloisters. This belonged to the clergy, and was the dwelling of those Popes who stayed in Perugia during their visits to the city, so greatly beloved and coveted by the Holy See.

THE GREAT FOUNTAIN
PIAZZA DEL DUOMO

In the centre of the Piazza stands the famous fountain usually ascribed to Nicolo Pisano, but said to have been designed by Fra Bevignate, a native of the city. However, the great Pisan sculptor and his son Giovanni made the two large marble basins, and sculptured the panels which decorate them. Nicolo, whose quaint costume is given in the initial, is said to have sculptured the twenty-four statues, now dark with age, but remarkable for the sharpness of their exquisite carving; two of the statues are, however, restorations. The delicate bas-reliefs of the second basin are ascribed to Giovanni Pisano, and are full of variety; the upper basin, with nymphs and lions and the inevitable griffin of Perugia, is supposed to have been cast in bronze by Rossi; water no longer plays from this fountain. It is very beautiful, but it wears a sad and desolate aspect, in perfect harmony with the terrible tragedies which have been so often enacted on this square.

The finest side of the Palazzo Pubblico is that which faces the Cathedral; it has a charming loggia and a grand double flight of steps guarded by the Guelphic lion and the Perugian griffin. There are still traces on this fine old wall showing where the keys of two cities, Siena and Assisi, were hung in chains by the arrogant Perugians, till, in one of the attacks on the city, some mercenary soldiers wrenched them away. The griffin, the quaint emblem of Perugia, is to be found repeated in all the decorative work of the city. The Palazzo Pubblico was built early in the fourteenth century from the design of the Benedictine, Fra Bevignate. The heads of criminals used to be fixed on the steel lances which project from it. When the criminals had been guilty of treason their heads were hung downwards. It was a custom in Perugia to confine criminals in an iron cage hung on this old wall, the miserable creatures being left to starve to death in the cage! The horrible dungeons below can still be seen; they give one some idea of the cruelties enacted in the Middle Ages.

The cathedral of San Lorenzo, on the Piazza del Duomo, is spacious rather than interesting, except for its associations: three Popes who died in Perugia are buried in one tomb in a transept, and in a chapel is preserved the marriage-ring of the Blessed Virgin. We noticed some good wood carving in the stalls.

On the right, beyond the cathedral and its square, is the little Piazza del Papa. On this a bronze statue, vivid green in colour, is raised high on a pedestal. An inscription tells that the statue represents Pope Julius III., and is the work of Vincenzo Danti.

BRONZE STATUE OF
POPE JULIUS III.

The grand old Pope has been sitting enthroned outside the cathedral doors for more than three hundred years, with hand outstretched, in the act of blessing. It almost seems that during these long years the golden sunshine, mingled with the intense blue of the sky, has created the brilliant colour of the bronze, this vivid green which rivals that of the lizards as they dart in and out of the grey old wall behind the Duomo.

Looking at the old Pope under different aspects,—in the sparkle of morning sunshine, in its full meridian glow, or in the gloom that comes to Perugia so swiftly at the heels of day,—one gets to see a different expression in the Pontiff's immovable face.

In the morning it beams on the crowd of crockery sellers, and their wares spread out on the stones around its pedestal, and points proudly to the grand group presented by the fountain and the Palazzo Comunale; at midday the expression is harder; but at eventide a pensive cast comes over the face, more in keeping with the grass-grown street behind the statue, and the ancient grey palaces.

This bronze Pope, Julius III., was not sitting here at the time of the famous preaching of San Bernardino of Siena, on the Piazza del Duomo, when the Perugians flung their grandest vanities into a heap and burned them as a proof of penitence, as the Tuscans did at Florence in the days of Savonarola. This preaching of San Bernardino is commemorated in an old but restored window in the cathedral.

Behind the adjoining Piazza dei Gigli, an open square in front of the Sorbello Palazzo, is a way going steeply upwards to the right; it has bricked steps in the middle, but at the side of these is a long strip of ascending slope, so irregularly paved that it might serve as a specimen pattern of the variously paved streets in the town. Tufts of grass between the stones show that this way is not much used. Its right side is walled by the church of Santa Maria Nuova, and high above it on the left are some quaint houses. This road leads to San Severo, a little chapel containing what is called Raffaelle's first fresco, unhappily very much restored. The view of the country between the houses near it is more interesting than the painting.

This is a very old part of the town; presently, through a tunnel under a low-browed arch, we came out on the Piazza of Monte Sole, surrounded by old palaces. This Piazza marks the summit of one of the two hills on which ancient Perugia was built by the Etruscans; the other hill, Colle Landone, is crowned by Palazzo Donnini, and till the time of wise and valiant Forte Braccio, who, though cruel, seems to have been the best ruler the Perugians can boast of, the valley between these two hills existed.

Forte Braccio caused it to be filled up, and the Piazza Sopra Mura, where the weekly market is held, takes its name from the levelling and sub-structures then effected.

It was from Piazza Monte Sole that the despotic Abbot Monmaggiore fled along the covered way he had made to connect his citadel of Monte Sole with his palaces at Porta San Antonio. On this occasion the nobles joined hands with the citizens against the conspiring French priest, drove the foreigners out of the city, and for the time freed Perugia from the hated Papal yoke.

Going on from the Piazza Monte Sole, a few steps bring us to a tree-shaded terrace with benches placed along it. There is a grand view from the wall that bounds the terrace, and seems to go straight down into the valley. Just below is the red cupola-topped church of Santa Maria Nuova, while the houses of the town lay thickly clustered below. The ancient wall from which we now gaze runs out northward on the right, and on the left goes on till it reaches the famous Etruscan arch near the Piazza Grimani. Beyond are the heights, on one of which stands the convent of San Francesco, outside the extreme northern point marked by the gate of San Angelo; from this we get a glimpse of Subasio. Going out behind the terrace we see the Duomo close by, and soon find our way back to the Corso.

Perugia was never weak; rather she was in all things powerful, and she produced a race of the most renowned Condottieri of Italy, the bloodthirsty Baglioni. Had the brutal nobles and the proud citizens been able to control their passions, and to discipline their ambition; had they been able to behave, in fact, like Christians, Perugia might have held sovereign sway in Umbria.

Instead of this, though nominally governed by the Podestà, or chief magistrate and the Priori, she was frequently forced to defend herself against Papal plots and aggression; almost constantly against the tyranny of her rival nobles, and the mischiefs caused by their brawls between themselves, and with the Raspanti, among whom were the richest and most powerful of the citizens.

Through these centuries, from the thirteenth to the sixteenth, the Piazza del Duomo often ran with blood. It was the chief scene of the fierce struggles which make the eventful history of the hill-city; for until the time of Paul the Third, Perugia never entirely submitted to the personal sway of an alien ruler, though she frequently banished both nobles and Raspanti.

There was a short period of comparative peace when, in the fourteenth century, the Condottiere Biordo Michelotti entered the city at the head of the banished Raspanti, and became supreme ruler in the name of the people. Broils were still frequent between the nobles and the plebs, but Biordo was the first of the brigand despots who tried to free Perugia from Papal encroachments.

Warlike, wicked Guidalotti, Abbot of San Pietro, jealously watched the Captain's success, and justly estimated his power; he resolved to end it, and to restore the influence of the Holy See in Perugia.

Biordo, a valiant, hard-working ruler, had asked in marriage the beautiful Lucrezia Orsini, with whom he hoped, now that the city enjoyed comparative quiet, to end his days in peace. The Abbot thought that these bridal festivities would give him the opportunity he sought.

A few days after the marriage the wily priest rode up from San Pietro on horseback to the higher part of the town. He here collected his bravi together, and rode on to Michelotti's palace on Monte Sole. As soon as Michelotti came down to greet his visitor the Abbot put his arm round him and kissed him. At this signal the other ruffians at once attacked the unarmed governor, and killed him with their poisoned daggers.

After Biordo Michelotti, came early in the next century the valiant and wise Forte Braccio, who greatly improved the condition of the city, and repressed licence and disorder. But this brave (though cruel) soldier and sagacious ruler was defeated in battle, and died from the wounds he received. This was a terrible loss; it alarmed the Perugians, for though Forte Braccio was of noble birth, being Conte di Montone, he had protected the city against the outrages of the fierce and brutal Oddi, Baglioni, Corgna, and others. The citizens, in their despair at the loss of their ruler, made overtures to Pope Martin, who received them with open arms.

At this the nobles felt all their power restored; they knew the Pope would side with them against the people, and, quitting their houses in the country around the city, they established themselves in palaces chiefly in the vicinity of Porta Marzia, whence it was easy to overawe the town.

After Forte Braccio's death, one of his soldiers, a singularly brave and capable man, named Nicola Piccinino, tried to wrest supreme power both from the Pope and the nobles. The Perugians suffered terribly, for, while the long struggle lasted, the Pope, the nobles, and Piccinino, who was liked by the people and idolised by the army, all levied taxes on them; Nicola at last ceased his efforts to attain supreme power, and accepted from the Pope the post of Gonfalionere, chief magistrate of the city, in the pontiff's name.

The nobles at this period were left unhindered to brawl as they pleased. The Baglioni, a race of men so renowned for crime, strength, bravery, and beauty, that they recall the heroes of the Iliad, and one wonders whether the old pagans were not better men than those so-called Christians, were always at war with the Oddi, till at last they worsted their rivals, and drove them out of Perugia; then they fell out among themselves. During their last struggle with the Oddi they took possession of the cathedral and fortified it.

After the banishment of the Oddi the power of the Baglioni greatly increased; it became almost supreme. The Pope had given them the lordship of Spello; they also owned Spoleto, and some others of the hill-cities of Umbria. These possessions brought them great wealth. They were cruel and tyrannical despots; they appointed civic officials; it was even said that no legate ventured to visit the city unless he was a friend of the Baglioni.

Towards the close of the fifteenth century some of the poorer and more obscure members of this powerful clan, or, as the old chronicler Matarazzo terms them, "beautiful Baglioni," murmured loudly against their richer kinsfolk. They were just as indolent, just as brutal and licentious, and in proportion to their means fully as arrogant and prodigal. But people were not afraid of them; they had neither wealth to keep bravi with, nor influence to support and further their pretensions. These poor relations could no longer endure their dependent position; they saw that if the sons of the elder house were disposed of, they should have a chance of coming to their own. At present they were completely shadowed by the wealth and haughty self-assertion of their cousins; they also coveted their possessions, and longed to divide them among themselves.

The heads of the Baglione house were the two brothers, Guido and Ridolfo. Guido had five stalwart sons, as much noted for their prowess and heroic bravery, as for their good looks; these were Astorre, Adriano (usually called Morgante, because of his wonderful strength), Marcantonio, Gismondo, and Gentile. Ridolfo's sons were Troilo, Gianpaolo, and Simonetto.

Besides the splendid sons of Guido and Ridolfo, there was yet another very wealthy and distinguished scion of the Baglione family, their young cousin Grifonetto. He was happily married to a young and beautiful wife, and was on friendly terms with all his cousins. His father, Grifone, had died young in battle; his still young and lovely mother, Atalanta Baglione, was extremely rich. She so greatly loved Grifonetto, her only child, that she remained a widow for his sake, and gave up her own home to live with him and his fair young wife, Zenobia Sforza, in the splendid palace he had built near Porta Marzia.

A few years before the end of the fifteenth century, the banished Oddi faction thought fit to attack the city; they rode suddenly in through the gates, and began to strike at the chains stretched across the street for defence against sudden attacks. The first to give the alarm was Simonetto Baglione, a young and beardless youth, who, though of a fierce and cruel nature, was heroically brave. He rushed forth in his shirt, armed only with sword and shield, and held the squadron of advancing Oddi at bay before the barrier that defended the Piazza. Soon ten of his adversaries lay dead at his feet. Till he had killed many more he persevered in attacking the foe with intense fury, until he had received twenty-two wounds. Then his cousin Astorre rode forth to help him. "Go and tend your wounds, Simonetto," he cried, and dashed at the common enemy; a falcon flashed on his gilded helmet, with the griffin's tail sweeping behind it. At once he became a target for the Oddi, their blows fell so thick and fast that each hindered the other from striking truly; nothing could be heard above the din of the strokes made by lances, partizans, crossbow quarries, and other weapons falling on Astorre's body; the sound of those great blows overbore the noise and shouting of the combatants. But the noble Astorre was undismayed by the horrid clamour, he rode his horse into the thickest of the fight, and trampled the Oddi under foot; while his horse, being a most fierce animal, gave the enemy what trouble it could, for so soon as they were jostled and overthrown by his rider, the beast trampled on them. By the time that the other Baglioni heroes sallied forth to help him, Astorre and his war-horse were overdone, they could scarce breathe.

The Oddi were again driven from the city, but a war followed which devastated the fertile country between Perugia and Assisi.

All through these fearful times of strife and bloodshed Art was progressing quietly and surely in Perugia. Raffaelle was at this time working in the atelier of Perugino, and it is thought that he must have witnessed this splendid defence of Astorre Baglione, and that he afterwards reproduced the young warrior, his helmet crowned by a falcon and tail of griffin, in the St. George of the Louvre, and the trampling horseman in the Heliodorus Stanza of the Vatican.

After this achievement the Baglioni seem to have had a short time of family peace. This was soon interrupted. Grifonetto's wealth, the splendid palace in which he lived with his lovely mother and Zenobia Sforza, his beautiful wife, helped to make him, young though he was, the most powerful member of the family. He and his wife dearly loved each other, and the chronicler says, "No wonder, for they were as beautiful as angels." But for evil counsellors, and the restless ambition of the Baglioni, this state of affairs might have lasted. Three of the evil and disappointed relatives clung to Grifonetto like limpets; these were his uncle Filippo, his cousin Carlo Baciglia Baglione, and a scandalously dissolute scoundrel named Jeronimo della Penna or Arciprete. They took counsel together as to how the sons of Guido and Ridolfo Baglione could be easiest put out of the way, so that their wealth and power might be divided among the conspirators. Too poor and of too ill-repute to act alone, they saw that their patron Grifonetto had all they lacked, and they resolved to persuade him to head their conspiracy. At first they strove to win him by the offer of supreme power in Perugia; he could revolt, they said, against the Papal yoke, and become sovereign ruler in the city. Grifonetto was not ambitious; he had all he wanted,—their proposals did not tempt him.

Astorre was about to wed a Roman bride, Lavinia, the daughter of a Colonna father and an Orsini mother, and the malcontent Baglioni decided that this marriage, which was to happen at the end of July, would be a great opportunity for ridding themselves of their hated kindred, as it would assemble every member of the family in Perugia, except Marcantonio, who, being out of health, was taking baths at Naples.

The conspirators took fresh counsel together; the time fixed for the marriage was now close at hand, they must at once win over Grifonetto to their schemes. They therefore told him that Zenobia, the beautiful wife he so adored, was unfaithful to him, with his cousin Gianpaolo, one of the sons of Ridolfo Baglione.

Grifonetto was furious; in his mad jealousy he believed this story, and thirsted for vengeance: he consented to head the conspiracy, and to rid the city of the elder branch of his family by a wholesale murder.

Among the conspirators were Jeronimo della Staffa, three members of the Corgna family and others; only two of those who engaged in this bloodthirsty scheme were over thirty years old.

The Baglioni were chiefly lodged in houses on or near the Porta Marzia; Astorre and his bride, on the night of the murder, were lodged in the beautiful palace of Grifonetto, which was the wonder of Perugia, and always pointed out to strangers as a marvel of magnificence both inside and out. Among his other treasures, Grifonetto possessed a lion; Astorre and Gianpaolo, the sons of Guido and Ridolfo Baglione, each owned one of the royal beasts, and their fearful roaring at night struck terror to the hearts of belated Perugians on their way home.

It had been arranged that as soon as the proposed victims were asleep the signal should be given; this was to be a stone thrown from the loggia of the Magnifico Guido's palace, into the court below.

Banquets, jousts, all kinds of magnificent festivities had gone on for days past. That night a great supper was given, at which the conspirators were present; they appeared to be on the most friendly terms with the others, and were even affectionate and caressing to all,—yet the traitors had decided who was to be the murderer of each victim, and the number of bravi by which each murderer should be accompanied in case of resistance.

At last the time arrived. The victims, heavy with wine, had retired to rest, they slept undisturbed by the roaring of the lions. Then the signal was given; each assassin stood ready at the appointed door. Carlo Baglione, who seems to have been the mainspring of "el gran tradimento," as the chronicler Matarazzo calls it, made first for the sleeping-chamber of the head of the family, the "Magnifico Guido," but he turned aside to that of young Simonetto. Jeronimo della Penna forced open the door of the noble Gismondo; while Grifonetto himself attacked Gianpaolo, Filippo di Braccio and one of the Corgna family unlocked the door of valiant Astorre, who, asleep with his newly-married wife, was thus murderously awakened; the young fellow opened the door, and, seeing his murderers, he guessed the truth. As they attacked him he cried out, "Wretched Astorre, who dies like a coward." His young wife rushed up to him, and flung her arms round him, trying to make her body a shield between him and his assailants, but they had already stabbed him with many more blows than would have sufficed to kill him, and she too received a wound. Then the brutal Filippo di Braccio, seeing how large a wound was in Astorre's breast, thrust in his hand, tore out his heart, and savagely bit it. After this he and his accomplice flung the body of Astorre down the stairs and into the street, where presently the murdered Simonetto lay beside it. He had wakened, and, seeing the murderers kill the companion who lay in his chamber, armed himself, and fought his way through the villainous crowd of bravi, till he reached the foot of the stairs; here fresh assailants despatched him. Simonetto's uncle Guido had also time to snatch up his sword; but, powerful though he was, he was killed.

Grifonetto was less successful than his fellow-conspirators. Gianpaolo, the most daring of the elder branch of the Baglioni, had taken alarm, and so had his squire. But Gianpaolo was sagacious as well as brave, and, not knowing who were his assailants, he bade his squire guard the staircase which led from his chamber to the roof, while he tried to escape over the tops of the other palaces.

The squire fought valiantly, and held his post for some time,—the staircase turned, and gave him a point of vantage over his assailants from below. Gianpaolo reached the roof, and crawled over it till, coming to the skylight of his cousin Grifonetto's palace, he had a mind, in his ignorance as to the conspirators, to seek shelter there; but he gave up the idea, and climbed through a window into another house, owned by one of the citizens; the good man within was so terrified at the sight of Baglione, that, in his fear, he refused to harbour the great noble. Gianpaolo, going back to the roof, found his way into the atelier of some foreign artists, who were also greatly alarmed at his appearance among them. One of them, however, named Achille de la Mandola, seems to have greatly helped the fugitive.

Gianpaolo finally made his way out into the street; and soon after out of the city. Seeing a mule grazing by the wayside, he at once mounted it, though he was greatly disturbed to quit Perugia without having either discovered the meaning of this night attack, or taken vengeance on the unknown assassins. In the meantime day had broken, and Gentile Baglione, who lived some way from his father's house, had been also attacked by the conspirators; he escaped them at once, by mounting his horse and riding away. Just as he reached the bridge beyond the plain, he was amazed to recognise his elder cousin Gianpaolo, riding in the same direction on a mule.

When Atalanta, Grifonetto's beautiful young mother, heard of the tragedy that had been acted so close to her, she rose up, wrapped herself in a large cloak, and, taking with her the two little sons of Gianpaolo and her daughter-in-law, Zenobia Sforza, she quitted her son's house (she loved Grifonetto so dearly that she had always lived with him, having been widowed before she was twenty) and took refuge in her own dwelling on the Colle Landone. She had nothing with her but the cloak she wore, and when she learned in detail the events of the night she solemnly vowed she would never again cross her son's threshold. Grifonetto had quickly repented his crime. His eyes had opened to the wickedness into which his mad jealousy had betrayed him. As soon as he learned his mother's departure he followed her, but he was refused admittance; he, however, forced his way into her presence. She stayed his approach with outstretched hands, and delivered her solemn curse on his guilty head as the murderer of his nearest kindred. The young fellow fled horror-stricken from her presence, but soon returned; he could not find peace, he said, till his beloved, beautiful mother forgave him, and removed the curse she had laid on him.

Atalanta had, however, taken her precautions, and though the unhappy Grifonetto went again and again from his Palazzo to that on the Colle Landone, Atalanta refused to see or listen to him. With the exception of his complicity in this fearful tragedy, Grifonetto seems to have had more human feeling than some of his cousins of the elder branch. His suffering under his mother's curse, and his penitence for his crime, had completely unnerved him. When Gianpaolo, who by the death of his uncle Guido was now the head of the Baglioni, returned to Perugia with the troops he and his brothers had rallied round them, they were met at the city gate by an excited crowd of citizens; for though some of the Perugians still sided with their favourite Grifonetto, the larger portion abhorred his foul treason, and longed to see it avenged. Gianpaolo, seeing the concourse and hearing the cries of welcome, asked graciously that the ladies present in the crowd would be good enough to pray for his success. They did so, and sent out, besides, wine to refresh him and his soldiers after their journey, before they began to revenge themselves on their enemies. Grifonetto had come towards the gate with intent to guard it, gnashing his teeth and weeping, for he had made another attempt to see his mother. He presently met Gianpaolo on the Piazza, where some of the conspirators had already been slain,—Carlo Baglione and Jeronimo della Penna had a narrow escape by climbing the city wall.

Gianpaolo gazed with pitying contempt at his young cousin, who, still overwhelmed with remorse for his share in the unnatural crime, and heart-broken by his mother's curse, was taken aback at thus suddenly meeting his enemy within the city.

Gianpaolo rode up, and, pointing his sword at Grifonetto's throat, cried out; "Farewell, thou traitor Grifonetto; thou art"—Then he added, "Go, in God's name, for I will not kill you; I will not dip my hands in your blood, as you have dipped yours in the blood of your kindred."

He turned away, making a sign to his guards, they fell on the stricken Grifonetto, and wounded him so that his "graceful limbs" could no longer support him; he fell in a pool of blood on the ground. The terrible news was at once carried to his mother Atalanta, and his sorrowful wife Zenobia; they hurried down to the Piazza, and found their dearly loved Grifonetto not yet dead, but bleeding from every wound. His mother fell on her knees beside him; she assured him of her forgiveness, and gave him her blessing in place of the curse she had laid on him. She implored him to pardon his murderers, and to give her a sign that he did so. At this the dying youth clasped the white hand of his young mother, whom he so dearly loved, and, pressing it, he expired. "No words," adds the chronicler, "can paint the grief of the wife who had so dearly loved him, or of the mother who had remained a widow because of her great love for this adored son. At last they rose, stained with the blood that streamed from him, and ordered his body to be carried to the hospital."

By this time Gianpaolo and his troops had returned to the Piazza, bent on taking a complete revenge on the conspirators and all enemies of the Baglione family in Perugia. A fierce battle was fought on the Piazza, and in the cathedral itself, for Gianpaolo had caused a large fire to be kindled before the door, so as to gain access to the interior; even those who took refuge at the high altar were slain there. More than a hundred persons were murdered by Gianpaolo's order; the dead bodies lay where they fell, till the cathedral was bloodstained from one end to the other.

Then the Magnifico Gianpaolo, being now the head of the family, took possession of Grifonetto's palace and of all the Baglione dwellings which, as has been said, were near the Porta Marzia. He gave command that all should be solemnly hung with black, as a token of mourning for the victims of "el gran tradimento,"—a term which Matarazzo constantly repeats. Gianpaolo also gave command that the cathedral of San Lorenzo should be washed with wine from one end to the other, and then re-consecrated, to purge it from the blood shed there during his vengeance on the slayers of his kindred, and on all who were in any way unfriendly to the house of Baglione.

Even Matarazzo, the enthusiastic admirer of Gian,—or, as he frequently calls him, Giovanpaolo,—bursts into lamentation over the continued excesses committed in Perugia till the death of his hero. The chronicler tells us that from the time the Oddi were banished there was no rule in the city, except that of might against right; every man who was powerful enough took the law in his own hands: rapine, murder, plunder, reigned unchecked. When the Popes, aware of the persistent excesses, sent now and again a legate to control and modify disorder, and to restore some amount of security to the dismayed and outraged citizens, the envoys rarely remained long enough to interfere, even if they ventured within the gates of Perugia, lest they should give offence to the Baglioni, and be either stabbed or at best flung out of window.

At last Gianpaolo submitted himself to the power of the Pope, and though the Perugians detested Papal government, they had suffered so severely under the Baglioni tyranny that they hailed the prospect of change, especially as the terms granted them promised moderation.

Leo the Tenth, however, had little faith in Gianpaolo Baglione; he therefore lured him to Rome by sending him a safe-conduct. On his arrival the Pope caused him to be imprisoned in the castle of San Angelo; where he was soon after beheaded.

Gianpaolo's descendants went from bad to worse. They were powerful in other states besides Perugia; captains of Condottieri in Venice, in Florence, also in the States of the Church. One of them, Malatesta Baglione, proved himself a most infamous traitor; he sold himself to Pope Clement VII., and, for his dastardly treason to Florence, was held up to public execration. The last male member of this terrible family died in the middle of the sixteenth century.

With the accession to the popedom of Paul the Third came the deathblow to the freedom of Perugia. He broke all the treaties as to municipal rights and privileges, etc., granted by his predecessors, and built a huge citadel to overawe the town, actually removing one of the Etruscan gates, the Porta Marzia (now restored to its original site), to make room for his tyrannical construction. The military despotism of Pope Paul must have been heartbreaking to a free, proud people like the Perugians.

There seems to have been less bloodshed under the Papal tyranny, but this little incident at its beginning, taken from an old record in the Public Library, was a savage sort of portent:

"While the Duke Pietro Aloigi stayed with his troops in Perugia, to order the new government, Agostino de' Pistoia and Antonio Romano, two of his soldiers, asked the Duke's permission to fight out their quarrel in his presence on the Piazza of Perugia. The Duke gave consent, and ordered that they should fight before the chapel of the Cambio. There, surrounded by the populace, the Duke being at one of the windows of the palace, they fought in their shirts with swords and daggers.

"Both men showed much courage and daring, but at last Agostino, of Pistoia, who was both handsome and tall of stature, fell on the ground dead.

"Victory was at once cried for Antonio Romano, who, by his father's side, was of Perugia; but from the many and grievous wounds the Pistonian had given him, Antonio was considered by many as good as dead, and was carried home by his friends. However, by the great care taken of him, he after a while recovered his strength."

CHAPTER IV
THE COLLEGIO DEL CAMBIO AND THE PINACOTECA

PERUGINO.

The Corso was on the left near the Fonte grand range of ancient buildings, in which is the entrance to the chapel of the Cambio; beside this is the Sala, adorned with Perugino's famous frescoes. A little farther on is the richly-sculptured doorway of the Palazzo Pubblico, and within this is the Pinacoteca, containing a very interesting collection of art treasures. Here are marvellous frescoes by Bonfigli; and pictures by him and by Piero della Francesca, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, and other famous old painters.

It would be difficult to say too much in praise of the Sala del Cambio: the harmony preserved throughout it, in the rich and artistic decoration of its walls and ceiling, is most soothing, and adds greatly to the enjoyment one feels in the beautiful little place. The lower part of the walls is wainscotted with dark wood, inlaid with tarsiatura by Domenico del Tasso; the doors have the date 1483. Near the entrance is the raised throne for the judge; below this are desks and seats for the money-changers, and these are exquisitely carved. One account says that the intarsia designs were furnished by Raffaelle; another tells us that Domenico del Tasso was both designer and executor of this beautiful work. In the record of the agreement between the authorities at Perugia and Pietro Vannucci the painter, he writes, "My intention in the frescoes which cover the upper part of the walls is to recommend the merchants and magistrates therein assembled never to forsake the path of duty, but to remain faithful to the dictates of wisdom, of natural reason, and of religion."

DOORWAY OF PALAZZO PUBBLICO

Faith and Love are emphasised by two large frescoes facing the entrance, the Transfiguration and the Adoration of the Magi; Hope of an eternal future, by the prophets and sibyls on the wall to the right.

On the left wall the frescoes depict moral qualities,—Justice and Prudence, illustrated below by the figures of Fabius Maximus, Socrates, Numa, Camillus, Pittacus, and Trajan.

On a lower level still is a portrait in oil of Perugino, painted by himself; while the remaining half of the upper wall has figures representing Courage and Temperance. Below them are Licinius Leonidas and Horatius Cocles; Scipio Africanus, Pericles, and Cincinnatus.

There is not any attempt at grouping in these frescoes: the figures stand severe and stately, as if they were on the look-out to rebuke any cheating or covetous practices going on in the Hall below. It is remarkable that the painter should have been accused of greed in the pursuit of his calling, when he considered it necessary to call up on the walls of the Sala so many witnesses to protest against the love of money in others. The ceiling is divided into bays, on which are the planets. In the centre is the sun, represented by Apollo in his chariot; the spaces between are filled with ornament and figures, some of which are attributed to Raffaelle.

On a bright morning, when the sun is pouring light and warmth into the little Sala, the rich tone of these frescoes is marvellous, and, so far as one can see, they have not greatly suffered by restoration.

In the adjoining Cappella del Cambio are some sibyls and children, said to be Raffaelle's, but the work in these has evidently been much retouched.

Perugino is at his best in the frescoes of the Sala; they form a striking contrast to the monotony of style which, in spite of their individual beauty, wearies one in his Perugian oil pictures. The gallery devoted to his work upstairs in the Pinacoteca is, on the whole, disappointing.

The pictures are calm and sweet and refined, but one longs for variety of feeling; a few, however, show marked superiority over the rest. It is very curious to remember that these peaceful saintly pictures were painted when daily brawls were taking place in the city, even while her chief Piazza streamed with the blood of nobles and Raspanti.

The most interesting Umbrian pictures are those, only a few, by a rare and early painter, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, who with Piero della Francesca, from Borgo del Sepolcro, and Benedetto Bonfigli, had established a school of art in Perugia. The lovely head of a Madonna by this rarely found painter, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, is over a doorway in the Palazzo Pubblico, and upstairs in one of the galleries are two very remarkable pictures, the Adoration of the Magi is especially beautiful.

The three kings stand on the left,—one of them is said to be a portrait, when young, of Perugino; on the ground, in the centre, lies the Holy Child; the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph kneel on either side of Him. Opposite the magi are the ox, and a very wise-looking ass; while a large group of angels fills up the background, and forms the most interesting part of the picture; the angels are so altogether original and graceful.

The painting of detail is marvellously finished, though the similarity of faces and of costume make it probable that the same model was used for most of the angels. They and smaller figures, the shepherds and others, seen at the openings which reveal landscape on either side of the stable, are singularly full of grace and charm. There is admirable colour in all the pictures by this painter.

We find paintings by Niccolo Alunno of Foligno, another contemporary, pictures too by some old Sienese masters; a room is filled with small easel pictures by Fra Angelico. The student of early Italian art will find in these galleries abundant material of a most interesting kind. The pictures were formerly scattered in the various churches of Perugia, for which they had been painted; the government has now collected and placed them in the Pinacoteca.

One of the rooms leads on to a terrace. Here is a beautiful view over the surrounding country. The old cicerone took much interest in showing us where Siena and Orvieto and Rome lay, all three hidden among ranges of blue hills.

CHAPTER V
SPELLO

The pleasantest and shortest road to the railway is by Porta Eburnea. I started one day from this gate with a friend, by a steep path which leaves the road just outside the Porta, and curves along the side of the hill below the old wall. The bank, this fine morning, was gay with butterflies and wild flowers, and wreathed with a luxuriant growth of wild gourd, full of pale blossoms and small furry fruit; all was so wild, it seemed impossible we had only just left a busy city behind us.

THE WAY TO THE
STATION, PERUGIA.

At the turn of the path we came into a delightful lane, between bramble-covered banks; on one side was the dry bed of a little rill, and overhead branches of quaint trees met each other. From the Italian custom of constantly stripping the leaves to provide fodder, the foliage was scanty, yet we went down the steep path in cool and checkered shadow; lizards, darting across the way before us, gleamed as they passed in and out of the light.

This practice of stripping leaves from the trees for fodder, gives a quaint appearance to many of them; in this lane the gnarled and twisted branches looked grotesque. A man high up in one of the trees sang as gaily as a bird, while he filled with leaves a sack fastened to one of the branches.

Now and again the rich transparent purple of the shadows was traversed by a bar of golden light; this sometimes came in irregular flecks from spaces between the twisted trunks and crossing branches.

A woman coming up from the station, with a heavy basket on her head, said, "Buon Giorno," and smiled pleasantly as she passed; then a countryman, a fine, handsome fellow with glowing black eyes, wished us a good journey. He was going at such a pace that he must have been bound for the station; usually the easy, leisureful movements of its people seem to me one of the charms of Italy, so entirely in harmony with the burning, palpitating blue of its skies and the careless luxuriance of its vegetation.

Near the end of the descent is a washing place, and here a woman on her knees was hard at work, scrubbing and soaping linen. Looking back up the lane we saw the grey town peeping at us through the trees,—the tower of a house on the Piazza a prominent feature in the view.

FONTANA BORGHESE
outside PERUGIA

At the foot of the lane we crossed the dusty highroad, and again followed the short way, here very steep and rugged. At the end we came out at a cross-road where the Fontana Borghese, at one angle, made a striking feature; partly shadowed by tall cypresses, it glowed red in the sunshine. The date is 1615; its basin is green with age, and from the constant drip, drip of the water. To-day the fountain was surrounded with wine carts, each drawn by a pair of huge white oxen. It is fortunate these beautiful creatures are so gentle, for their wide-spreading, sharply pointed horns make them formidable; indeed, when the wine season began, during our stay in Perugia, we had sometimes to take refuge in a shop while they passed, for the horns of a pair of these splendid beasts stretched from one side of a narrow street to the other. Inside a little wine-shop opposite the Fontana Borghese we heard shouts of "Dieci," "otto," "sette," etc., from the players at morra.

One of the charms of Perugia is the genial courtesy of the people. My companion on this excursion had stayed several times in the town, and to-day when she appeared at the station all the officials were at her service, full of little friendly attentions, especially one giant-like porter called "Lungo."

The railway takes its course to Foligno through the valley of the Tiber, with mountain views on each side. Perugia stands grandly on the top of her hills, while on one side rises like an advanced guard the spire of San Pietro, and on a spur to the west Santa Giuliana; but the city is not so picturesque from this point, because one sees the modern buildings on the great Piazza Vittor Emanuele. On the left we saw the outside of the famous Etruscan tomb of the Volumnii, and soon after passed the pretty village of Ponte San Giovanni, getting a glimpse of the Tiber.

From the railway one has a good view of Assisi, clinging to the side of Monte Subasio, and the station is close to the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli; but we were bound for Foligno, and did not stop here to-day. As the railway circles round it we noted the splendid mass made by Subasio in this chain of mountains.

We passed by Spello, perched on a spur of the great hill, but it was disappointing to find that, after this, the valley broadened out into a plain, so that Foligno stands tamely on level ground. It does not seem to be much visited, though it is a quaint little town, and has, we heard, a tolerable inn.

On our arrival we were attacked by vociferous drivers and guides, so we took one of the dirty little carriages and drove up an avenue past the huge statue of Niccolo Alunno, a native of Foligno, to the Piazza. We were hardly out of our vehicle when up rushed a wretched-looking man, his bare chest showing red and hairy through the opening of his dirty shirt, while a huge piece of green oilskin covered his shoulders. "Ecco, Ecco, it is not possible the Signorine can find their way," he shouted. "I only can show them Foligno."

As he continued to persecute us, and our time was short, we submitted, and followed his guidance.

The outside of the cathedral fronting the Piazza is curious. Two monsters, lions in red granite, guard the portal; one of these creatures has an eagle in its mouth. Above the doorway is a curious sort of arcade; the door-heading itself has been recently restored with the emblems of the evangelists. There is nothing to see inside this church. Opposite it is a quaint old building, and on the right is the Tribunale del Commune.

We had to wait some time here while the keys were fetched; we then followed the custode up an old stone staircase to an ante-chapel to see the frescoes of Ottaviano Nelli. We went on into the little chapel; here the frescoes have been restored. They represent the life of the Blessed Virgin, from her birth to her Assumption, and are full of interest.

Coming out, we followed our ragged, repulsive-looking guide down a street close by, and saw the Palazzo Deli, a handsome building, designed, it is said, by Baccio d'Agnolo. There are three other churches; in one of them, San Niccolo, is a Nativity by Alunno; the figure of San Joseph is very fine. One of the statues in front of the choir, a female saint, has her feet bound with brass; the sacristan told us that this had been done to preserve them from the devotion of worshippers who had already kissed away the ends of the saint's toes. The frescoes in Santa Maria infra Portas, a very old church, are mostly ancient, but completely faded. Raphael's beautiful Madonna di Foligno, now in the Vatican, was once in the church of Santa Anna in this town.

We greatly regretted that we could not drive on to Montefalco, a picturesquely placed little town, with many good pictures by Umbrian painters; there are several also said to be by Benozzo Gozzoli.

We took another little carriage, standing in a side street, and had a very pleasant drive back to Spello, between vineyards and olive groves, eating our luncheon on the way. Spello looked very attractive as we approached it, its white houses gleaming in the sunlight against the green hill on the side of which it stands.

We entered the town under a quaint and ancient gateway, the Porta Veneris of Hispellum, for Spello is an old Roman town, and the ancient walls and some of the gates have been preserved. This gate has three figures outside it, a picturesque fountain stands near, and to-day beside it sat a group of handsome peasants, eating and drinking in the sunshine.

PORTA VENERIS, SPELLO.

We thought the steep old street was full of pictures for a sketcher as we drove up to the Piazza, on which is the Cathedral Santa Maria Maggiore. Entering, we were at once struck with the remarkable early fifteenth-century canopy, the work of an Umbrian sculptor, Rocca di Vicenza; it is made of the stone of the country called Cacciolfo, and has a polished surface. The four pillars are in pairs; in front of two of them the artist has introduced portraits of himself and his wife; beyond, right and left, are Madonnas by Perugino. The sacristan told us that there is a still finer specimen of the sculptor Rocca di Vicenza's work at Trevi. On the opposite side of the church is the Capella del Sacramento, the work of Pinturicchio; three of the walls and the ceiling here are covered with beautiful frescoes in delightful harmony of colour. On one side is the Annunciation, with the name and portrait of the painter, on the other walls are the Adoration and the Disputa; this last is a very interesting picture, and is also signed. On the ceiling are painted the sibyls, and the spaces between are filled with rich, harmonious colour.

PINTURICCHIO, SPELLO.

We could gladly have stayed much longer in this chapel, for the frescoes seemed to us finer specimens of Pinturicchio's work than anything we had seen at Perugia. In the sacristy is a beautiful Madonna by this painter. The mortuary chapel has a quaint pair of doors in perforated wood-work; near the west door we saw a curious square bas-relief of ancient work, on two sides of it is carved an olive-tree, and on another side a man on horseback. It looked like an old burial urn.

The way was so steep for driving, that from the cathedral we walked on in search of the woman who had the keys of the church of San Andrea. She, however, being busy, handed us over to a young fellow with a face as lovely as Raffaelle's, and with those wonderful blue eyes, which have in them the glow of an Italian sky, not to be seen in more northern regions.

But at San Andrea, while we were looking at the Pinturicchio behind the high altar, a very courteous and intelligent priest came into the church. Seeing us, he kindly removed the cross which obstructed our view of the best part of the altar picture, the child San John the Baptist, who sits writing on his scroll at the feet of the Blessed Virgin. This figure is supposed to be Raffaelle's work. St. Francis and St. Lawrence are on one side, St. Andrew and St. Gregory on the other; the embroidery on St. Lawrence's vestments is wonderfully painted, but as a whole this picture is not nearly so good as the frescoes by the same master in the cathedral.

The priest pointed out to us a graceful arcade surrounding the front and ends of an altar. This was discovered some years ago, concealed beneath a much larger altar which had been placed above the chest containing the bones of San Andrea; he told as that when the bones were sought for, in order to remove them, the arcade was brought to light. The priest also showed us a fresco on the wall of the nave, and graphically related how he himself, only a few months before, had discovered it under the whitewash when the church was being cleaned for a festa. Who knows how many treasures still lie concealed on the church walls of these out-of-the-way towns; it must be owned, however, that the newly found fresco at Spello is not artistically a treasure, nor nearly as interesting as was the story of its discovery owing to its graphic telling.

From San Andrea our blue-eyed, gentle-spoken young guide led us to the top of the town, crowned by the deserted Capuchin convent. "They have sent all the brothers away," he said sadly; "there is but one left, and he may not live in the convent, he may only come up in the afternoon, and see the schoolboys play in the garden." There is a pathetic look about the deserted, peaceful old place. From the platform in front of it we enjoyed a splendid view; before us on one side was the ever-present Subasio, towering over all, and on the top of the hill behind stood Perugia, looking at this distance like some giant castle.

At our feet in the green valley was the amphitheatre of Spello; not so perfect as that at Fiesole, but with clearly defined tiers of grassed seats rising one above another.

Porta Augusta is another interesting gateway. We came slowly down the steep street, getting constant peeps, between tall, grey houses, of the blue mountains around us. At one of these breaks in the wall a group of peasants sat, some spinning, some idling, beneath a vine that stretched on a trellis from house to house, the light filtering through the leaves became a golden green before it fell on the merry souls in the by-street below. The men of Spello look fine, robust fellows, and the women are very tall and erect.

One handsome grey-haired dame met us as we came down the ladder-like street; she was spinning from a distaff in her hand. "Dio," she held it out to my companion, "che brutta lavoro!"

"Would that I could do it," was the prompt answer, and the old dame went off chuckling with delight.

PORTA AUGUSTA, SPELLO.

The little town is like an eyrie high up in the air, the houses nestling here and there for shelter behind the grey walls.

We saw so many bits by the way in Spello, that it seemed as if one might spend some pleasant days in such an exquisitely placed spot; but we could not spy out any possible lodging; and, after all, it is an easy distance by rail or carriage from Assisi or Foligno.

Coming home by train to Perugia, we travelled with a pleasant-looking Italian lady and her sad-faced husband. She also seemed sad, and constantly put her handkerchief to her eyes; we fancied she was affected by some deep sorrow, and felt sympathy for her. The train presently stopped at a station; her distress increased, she clasped her hands, and entreated her husband to get out of the carriage and see after the poor little "angiolo."

He gently refused, and at this she sobbed, and almost howled with anguish; then, burying her face in her handkerchief, she leaned back and refused to be comforted.

At the next station we heard the sharp yelping of a little dog, and then she cried out so loudly for the "povera bestia" that we began to understand. Seeing we were interested, she sat up, pocketed her handkerchief, and explained. "The officials have taken my dog from me, and have shut it up. Dio! the sweet angel would not hurt a soul," she said, with a fresh flow of tears; "its cries break my heart. It is a cruelty beyond belief."

At this her husband left the carriage, looking much ashamed of himself. When he came back he tried to pacify his still weeping wife.

"The dog is all right, cara mia," he said.

"Cara mia," however, would not listen, and she actually sobbed and cried all the way to Perugia, where we left her on the platform with her pocket-handkerchief rolled into a ball, and pressed close to her eyes.

CHAPTER VI
THE HEAVENLY CHOIR OF PERUGIA

POTS AT
WINDOW.

We had greatly desired to see the façade of the Oratory built in honour of San Bernardino of Siena, and we went in search of it. Going past the cloisters of the cathedral, we traversed the street beyond them: on one side is a fragment of an old palace, on the other a quaint series of ancient arches, one within the other, full of striking effects of light and shade.

A street descends steeply from this portal. We noted here, and in many of the old house-fronts, carved brackets, for holding flower-pots, built out from the walls, their grey stone making a pleasant contrast to the brilliant red and orange of the flowers blossoming in pots placed within these hoary receptacles. We sometimes saw metal rings instead of stone brackets fastened into the wall, so as to hold a flower-pot.

A wealthy Englishman, staying in our hotel, became so enamoured of the quaint effect created by these stone brackets, that he told us he was resolved to transport some of them to the front wall of his newly-built London dwelling. He went to the owner of a house possessing several of the brackets, and offered him a round sum for a couple of them. The owner professed himself delighted with the offer; he would most willingly gratify the English Signor's fancy.

VIA SANT' AGATA.

"The Signore Inglese must, however, understand," he said, with a twinkle in his heavy-lidded dark eyes, "that these articles are not individual,—they are the same as the nose on the face, fixtures. To possess the brackets, the Signore Inglese must purchase the entire front of the Palazzo, it is built all in one piece." This was too much for even an English collector; he was obliged to quit Perugia without acquiring even one of the much-desired brackets.

As we went along, we saw, outside the door of an old grey house, a pretty, ragged, fair-haired child, jumping and dancing on her little bare feet, chattering, as it seemed, to the doorpost. She was trying to reach the knocker, and was talking merrily to the flies on the wall, by way of amusement while she waited.