"'Now when ye moone like a golden flowre,
In ye sky above doth bloome,
Ile lett doune a basket in that houre,
And pull ye upp to my roome,
And give mee a kisse if 'tis yes,' he cryed;
Ye mayden would nothing refuse;
But held upp hir lippes--
Oh I would I had beene
Just thenn in that friar's shoos."
If we pass the Porta Romana, and keep on for three miles, we shall arrive
at the old Carthusian convent of La Certosa in Val d'Ema. Soon after
passing "the village of Galluzzo, where the stream is crossed, we come to
an ancient gateway surmounted by a statue of Saint Laurence, _through
which no female could enter_ except by permission of the archbishop, and
out which no monk could pass." At least, it is so stated in a justly
famous English guide-book, though it does not explain how any "female"
could enter the saint, nor whether the female in question belonged to the
human species, or was fish, flesh, or red-herring. I should, however,
incline to believe the latter is meant, as "herring" is a popular synonym
for a loose fish.
The Certosa was designed and built in the old Italian Gothic style by
Andrea Orcagna, it having been founded in the middle of the fourteenth
century by Niccolo Acciajuoli, who was of a great Florentine family, from
whom a portion of the Lung Arno is named. The building is on a
picturesque hill, 400 feet above the union of the brooks called the Ema
and the Greve, the whole forming a charming view of a castled monastery
of the Middle Ages.
There is always, among the few monks who have been allowed to remain, an
English or Irish brother, to act as cicerone to British or American
visitors, and show them the interesting tombs in the crypt or
subterranean church, and the beautiful chapels and celebrated frescoes in
the church. These were painted by Poccetti, and I am told that among
them there is one which commemorates or was suggested by the following
legend, which I leave the reader to verify, not having done so myself,
though I have visited the convent, which institution is, however,
popularly more distinguished--like many other monasteries--as a
distillery of holy cordial than for aught else: