Transcribed from the 1913 A. C. Fifield edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: Public domain book cover]
[Picture: Mortuary Chapel at Soazza (etching)]
ALPS AND SANCTUARIES
Of Piedmont And the Canton Ticino
(Op. 6)
By Samuel Butler
Author of “Erewhon,” “Life and Habit,” “The Way of All Flesh,” etc.
_New and Enlarged Edition_, _with Author’s Revisions_
_and Index_, _and an Introduction by R. A. Streatfeild_
[Picture: St. Maria della Neve]
London: A. C. Fifield, 13 Clifford’s Inn, E.C.
1913
* * * * *
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
Introduction
THE publication of a new and revised edition of “Alps and Sanctuaries” at
a much reduced price and in a handier and more portable form than the
original will, I hope, draw general attention to a book which has been
undeservedly neglected. “Alps and Sanctuaries” has hitherto been the
Cinderella of the Butler family. While her sisters, both elder and
younger, have been steadily winning their way to high places at the
feast, she has sat unrecognised and unhonoured in the ashes. For this,
of course, the high price of the book, which was originally issued at a
guinea, was largely responsible, as well as its unmanageable size and
cumbrousness. But Time has revenges in his wallet for books as well as
for men, and I cannot but believe that a new life is in store for one of
the wisest, wittiest and tenderest of Butler’s books.
“Alps and Sanctuaries” originally appeared at a time (1881) when the
circle of Butler’s readers had shrunk to very narrow dimensions.
“Erewhon” (1872) had astonished and delighted the literary world, but
“The Fair Haven” (1873) had alienated the sympathies of the orthodox, and
“Life and Habit” (1877) and its successors “Evolution, Old and New”
(1879) and “Unconscious Memory” (1880) had made him powerful and
relentless enemies in the field of science. In 1881 Butler was, as he
often termed himself, a literary pariah, and “Alps and Sanctuaries” was
received for the most part with contemptuous silence or undisguised
hostility. Now that Butler is a recognised classic, his
twentieth-century readers may care to be reminded of the reception that
was accorded to this—one of the most genial and least polemical of his
works. Very few papers reviewed it at all, and in only four or five
cases was it honoured with a notice more than a few lines long.
Strange as it may seem, Butler’s best friends were the Roman Catholics.
_The Weekly Register_ praised “Alps and Sanctuaries” almost unreservedly,
and _The Tablet_ became positively lyrical over it. The fact is that
about this time Butler was dallying with visions of a _rapprochement_
between the Church of Rome and the “advanced wing of the Broad Church
party,” to which he always declared that he belonged. In the second
edition of “Evolution, Old and New,” which was published in 1882, there
is a remarkable chapter, entitled “Rome and Pantheism,” in which Butler
holds out an olive branch to the Vatican, and suggests that if Rome would
make certain concessions with regard to the miraculous element of
Christianity she might win the adherence of liberal-minded men, who are
equally disgusted by the pretensions of scientists and the dissensions of
Protestants.
“Alps and Sanctuaries” contains nothing like a definite eirenicon, but it
is pervaded by a genuine if somewhat vague sympathy for Roman
institutions, which, emphasised as it is by some outspoken criticism of
Protestantism, will serve to explain the welcome that it received in
Roman Catholic circles. Nevertheless, one may venture to doubt whether
Butler felt altogether at ease in the society of his new friends, and it
was probably with rather mixed feelings that he read _The Tablet’s_
description of “Alps and Sanctuaries” as “a book that Wordsworth would
have gloated over with delight.” On the other hand, the compliment paid
to his little discourse on the “wondrous efficacy of crosses and
crossing,” which the pious _Tablet_ read in a devotional rather than a
biological sense and characterised as “so very suggestive and moral that
it might form part of a sermon,” must have pleased him almost as much as
_The Rock’s_ naïf acceptance of “The Fair Haven” as a defence of
Protestant orthodoxy.
“Alps and Sanctuaries” is essentially a holiday book, and no one ever
enjoyed a holiday more keenly than Butler. “When a man is in his
office,” he used to say, “he should be exact and precise, but his holiday
is his garden, and too much precision here is a mistake.” He acted up to
his words, and in “Alps and Sanctuaries” we see him in his most
unbuttoned mood, giving the rein to his high spirits and letting his
fantastic humour carry him whither it would. Butler always spent his
holidays in Italy, a country which he had known and loved from his
earliest childhood, and for which the passing years only increased his
affection. Few Englishmen have ever studied her people, her landscape
and her art with deeper sympathy and understanding, and she never
received a sincerer tribute than the book which Butler dedicated to his
“second country” as “a thank-offering for the happiness she has afforded
me.”
Butler used to declare that he wrote his books so that he might have
something to read in his old age, knowing what he liked much better than
any one else could do. But though he cared little for contemporary
popularity, no man valued intelligent appreciation more highly. He
recorded in his “Note-books” with evident delight the remark made by a
lady after reading “Alps and Sanctuaries”: “You seem to hear him
speaking,” adding, “I don’t think I ever heard a criticism of my books
which pleased me better.” The story of another unsolicited testimonial I
must give in his own words:
“One day in the autumn of 1886 I walked up to Piora from Airolo,
returning the same day. At Piora I met a very nice quiet man whose name
I presently discovered, and who, I have since learned, is a well-known
and most liberal employer of labour somewhere in the north of England.
He told me that he had been induced to visit Piora by a book which had
made a great impression upon him. He could not recollect its title, but
it had made a great impression upon him; nor yet could he recollect the
author’s name, but the book had made a great impression upon him; he
could not remember even what else there was in the book; the only thing
he knew was that it had made a great impression upon him.
“This is a good example of what is called a residuary impression.
Whether or no I told him that the book which had made such a great
impression upon him was called ‘Alps and Sanctuaries,’ and that it had
been written by the person he was addressing, I cannot tell. It would
have been very like me to have blurted it all out and given him to
understand how fortunate he had been in meeting me. This would be so
fatally like me that the chances are ten to one that I did it; but I
have, thank Heaven, no recollection of sin in this respect, and have
rather a strong impression that, for once in my life, I smiled to myself
and said nothing.”
Butler always remembered with satisfaction that “Alps and Sanctuaries”
gained him the friendship of Dr. Mandell Creighton. In her biography of
her husband, Mrs. Creighton mentions that the Bishop had been reading
“Alps and Sanctuaries,” which charmed him so much that he determined to
visit some of the places described therein. On his return to England,
Dr. Creighton wrote to Butler, telling him how much “Alps and
Sanctuaries” had added to the pleasure of his trip, and begged him to
come to Peterborough and pay him a visit. The story is told in Butler’s
“Note-books,” but I cannot resist the temptation to repeat it:
“The first time that Dr. Creighton asked me to come down to Peterborough,
I was a little doubtful whether to go or not. As usual, I consulted my
good clerk Alfred, who said:
“‘Let me have a look at his letter, sir.’
“I gave him the letter, and he said:
“‘I see, sir, there is a crumb of tobacco in it; I think you may go.’
“I went, and enjoyed myself very much. I should like to add that there
are few men who have ever impressed me so profoundly and so favourably as
Dr. Creighton. I have often seen him since, both at Peterborough and at
Fulham, and like and admire him most cordially.”
“Alps and Sanctuaries” was published a few months before the opening of
the St. Gothard tunnel in 1882. That event naturally made many and great
changes in the Val Leventina, and we who know the valley only as a
thoroughfare for shrieking smoking expresses, can scarcely realise its
ancient peace in the days of which Butler wrote. But apart from the
incursion of the railway, Butler’s beloved valleys have changed but
little since “Alps and Sanctuaries” was written. A few more roads have
been made, and a few more hotels have been built. Butler’s prediction to
the effect that the next great change in locomotion in the Ticinese
valleys “would have something to do with electricity”—a prediction which
in 1881 was by no means so obvious as a twentieth-century reader might
suppose—has been strikingly fulfilled. Electric railways now run up the
Val Blenio from Biasca to Acquarossa, half-way to Olivone; up the Val
Mesocco from Bellinzona to Mesocco, and from Locarno up the Val Maggia to
Bignasco. Ere long they will doubtless penetrate the higher recesses of
the valleys. Many of the “nice people” mentioned in “Alps and
Sanctuaries” have passed away. Signer Dazio no longer reigns in Fusio;
his hotel is in other hands, “and from the sign is gone Sibylla’s name.”
Signor Guglielmoni has long since fallen a victim to the rigours of the
Alpine winter, which Butler so feelingly describes. At S. Michele,
however, there are still some monks who remember Butler and a copy of
“Alps and Sanctuaries,” given by him to the Sanctuary, is one of their
most cherished possessions. The lapse of thirty years has left S.
Michele unaltered, so far as I could see a few years ago, save for the
arm-chairs made out of clipped box-trees. These have fallen grievously
from their high estate as depicted on p. 103, and are now deplorably thin
and ragged.
I think that Butler must at one time have intended to bring out a new
edition of “Alps and Sanctuaries”—the so-called second edition published
in 1882 by Mr. David Bogue being merely a re-issue of the original sheets
with a new title-page—since he took the trouble to compile an elaborate
and highly characteristic index, the manuscript of which is bound up in a
copy of the so-called second edition now in my possession. This idea he
seems to have abandoned, and he did not revise the text of the book,
beyond correcting two or three misprints. He continued, however, to
accumulate material for a possible sequel, and at his death he left a
large mass of rough notes recording impressions of many holiday
expeditions to various parts of Italy, in particular to his favourite
Lombard and Ticinese valleys. Mr. Festing Jones and I have examined
these notes with great care, and from them Mr. Jones, who was, I need
hardly say, Butler’s constant companion both at home and abroad, and his
collaborator in the original “Alps and Sanctuaries,” has constructed one
entirely new chapter, “Fusio Revisited,” and made considerable additions
to Chapter X. I have, in addition, borrowed two passages, relating
respectively to Bellinzona (p. 198) and Varese (p. 257) from Butler’s
recently published “Note-books,” and Mr. Jones has kindly allowed me to
take the note on Medea Colleone and her _passero solitario_ (p. 23) from
his “Diary of a Journey through North Italy and Sicily.” I have revised
the original text of the book, into which some trifling errors had crept,
and have completed the index by adding references to the new matter. I
have also ventured to consign to an appendix the original Chapter IX,
“Reforms instituted at S. Michele in the year 1478,” which contains a
summary of certain documents relating to the Sanctuary. These are
valuable to scholars and students, but are not likely to interest the
ordinary reader, and I am following the suggestion of a friend in
transplanting the chapter bodily to the end of the book. The
illustrations, all save six which the reader will easily distinguish, are
printed from the original Dawson-Process blocks, which are interesting
examples of early photo-engraving work.
Mr. Fifield’s determination to make the present edition handy and
portable has unfortunately compelled him to abandon Mr. Charles Gogin’s
design for the original cover, which requires a larger volume than would
in the present case be convenient. Readers who propose to carry the book
from S. Ambrogio up to the Sanctuary of S. Michele will, I am sure,
acquiesce in the sacrifice.
My last words must be an expression of cordial thanks to Mr. Festing
Jones, whose help and counsel have been invaluable to me in preparing the
book for republication.
R. A. STREATFEILD.
_May_, 1913.
Author’s Preface to First Edition
I SHOULD perhaps apologise for publishing a work which professes to deal
with the sanctuaries of Piedmont, and saying so little about the most
important of them all—the Sacro Monte of Varallo. My excuse must be,
that I found it impossible to deal with Varallo without making my book
too long. Varallo requires a work to itself; I must, therefore, hope to
return to it on another occasion.
For the convenience of avoiding explanations, I have treated the events
of several summers as though they belonged to only one. This can be of
no importance to the reader, but as the work is chronologically inexact,
I had better perhaps say so.
The illustrations by Mr. H. F. Jones are on pages 95, 211, 225, 238, 254,
260. The frontispiece and the illustrations on the title-page and on
pages 261, 262 are by Mr. Charles Gogin. There are two drawings on pages
136, 137 by an Italian gentleman whose name I have unfortunately lost,
and whose permission to insert them I have, therefore, been unable to
obtain, and one on page 138 by Signor Gaetano Meo. The rest are mine,
except that all the figures in my drawings are in every case by Mr.
Charles Gogin, unless when they are merely copied from frescoes or other
sources. The two larger views of Oropa are chiefly taken from
photographs. The rest are all of them from studies taken upon the spot.
I must acknowledge the great obligations I am under to Mr. H. F. Jones as
regards the letterpress no less than the illustrations; I might almost
say that the book is nearly as much his as mine, while it is only through
the care which he and another friend have exercised in the revision of my
pages that I am able to let them appear with some approach to confidence.
_November_, 1881.
Table of Contents
PAGE
INTRODUCTION, BY R. A. STREATFEILD 5
AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION 11
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 15
CHAPTER
I. INTRODUCTION 17
II. FAIDO 22
III. PRIMADENGO, CALPIOGNIA, DALPE, CORNONE, AND 33
PRATO
IV. ROSSURA, CALONICO 49
V. CALONICO (_continued_) AND GIORNICO 59
VI. PIORA 77
VII. S. MICHELE AND THE MONTE PIRCHIRIANO 86
VIII. S. MICHELE (_continued_) 92
IX. THE NORTH ITALIAN PRIESTHOOD 106
X. S. AMBROGIO AND NEIGHBOURHOOD 113
XI. LANZO 131
XII. CONSIDERATIONS ON THE DECLINE OF ITALIAN ART 141
XIII. VIÙ, FUCINE, AND S. IGNAZIO 160
XIV. SANCTUARY OF OROPA 169
XV. OROPA (_continued_) 175
XVI. GRAGLIA 188
XVII. SOAZZA AND THE VALLEY OF MESOCCO 198
XVIII. MESOCCO, S. BERNARDINO, AND S. MARIA IN 207
CALANCA
XIX. THE MENDRISIOTTO 228
XX. SANCTUARY ON MONTE BISBINO 237
XXI. A DAY AT THE CANTINE 243
XXII. SACRO MONTE, VARESE 249
XXIII. ANGERA AND ARONA 258
XXIV. LOCARNO 268
XXV. FUSIO 277
XXVI. FUSIO REVISITED 287
APPENDIX A. WEDNESBURY COCKING 305
APPENDIX B. REFORMS INSTITUTED AT S. MICHELE 309
IN THE YEAR 1478
AUTHOR’S INDEX 326
List of Illustrations
MORTUARY CHAPEL AT SOAZZA (ETCHING) _Frontispiece_
STA. MARIA DELLA NEVE _Title-page_
PRATO FROM NEAR DAZIO 26
TICINESE BARLEY-STACKS 29
CAMPO SANTO AT CALPIOGNIA 30
PRIMADENGO 35
DALPE 37
PRATO, AND VALLEY OF ST. GOTHARD 43
PRATO CHURCH PORCH, NO. 1 45
PRATO CHURCH PORCH, NO. 2 48
ROSSURA CHURCH 49
ROSSURA CHURCH PORCH 50
ROSSURA CHURCH PORCH IN 1879 53
TENGIA, NO. 1 56
TENGIA, NO. 2 57
CALONICO CHURCH, NO. 1 64
CALONICO CHURCH, NO. 2 65
MAIN DOORWAY, S. NICOLAO 73
INTERIOR OF OLD CHURCH, GIORNICO 74
CHAPEL OF S. CARLO, PIORA 81
S. MICHELE FROM NEAR BUSSOLENO 86
S. MICHELE 86
S. MICHELE FROM S. PIETRO 93
S. MICHELE, NEAR VIEW 95
S. MICHELE, FROM PATH TO AVIGLIANA 95
MAIN ENTRANCE TO THE SANCTUARY 96
STEPS LEADING TO THE CHURCH, NO. 1 98
STEPS LEADING TO THE CHURCH, NO. 2 100
GARDEN AT THE SANCTUARY OF S. MICHELE 103
INN AT S. AMBROGIO 113
S. GIORIO—COMBA DI SUSA 115
CASINA DI BANDA 119
VOTIVE PICTURE 121
MEDIÆVAL TOWER AT LANZO 132
PIAZZA AT LANZO 133
STUDY BY AN ITALIAN AMATEUR, NO. 1 136
STUDY BY AN ITALIAN AMATEUR, NO. 2 137
STUDY BY A SELF-TAUGHT ITALIAN 138
PARADISO! PARADISO! 145
BY AN ITALIAN SCHOOLBOY 147
AVOGADRO’S VIEW OF S. MICHELE 149
FUNERAL OF TOM MOODY 159
S. IGNAZIO, NEAR LANZO 161
FRESCO NEAR CERES 161
VIÙ CHURCH 162
FUCINE, NEAR VIÙ 164
FAÇADE OF THE SANCTUARY OF OROPA 172
INNER COURT OF SANCTUARY OF OROPA 174
CHAPELS AT OROPA 175
CHAPEL OF S. CARLO AT GRAGLIA 189
SANCTUARY OF GRAGLIA 194
SOAZZA CHURCH 203
CASTLE OF MESOCCO 208
S. CRISTOFORO 209
FRESCO AT MESOCCO—MARCH 211
FRESCO AT MESOCCO—APRIL 211
FRESCO AT MESOCCO—MAY 212
FRESCO AT MESOCCO—AUGUST 212
APPROACH TO STA. MARIA 224
STA. MARIA, APPROACH TO CHURCH 225
FRONT VIEW OF STA. MARIA 226
TOP OF MONTE BISBINO 238
VEDUTA DEL MONTE BISBINO 240
TABLE ON MONTE BISBINO 241
CHAPEL OF S. NICOLAO 241
SOMMAZZO 247
SACRO MONTE OF VARESE 253
SACRO MONTE OF VARESE, NEARER VIEW 254
TERRACE AT THE SACRO MONTE, VARESE 255
SACRO MONTE FROM ABOVE 256
CASTLE OF ANGERA 259
CASTLE OF ANGERA, FROM S. QUIRICO 260
TERRACE AT CASTLE OF ANGERA, NO. 1 261
TERRACE AT CASTLE OF ANGERA, NO. 2 262
ROOM IN WHICH S. CARLO BORROMEO WAS BORN 263
SACRO MONTE, LOCARNO, NO. 1 269
SACRO MONTE, LOCARNO, NO. 2 270
CLOISTER AT SACRO MONTE, LOCARNO 271
FUSIO FROM THE CEMETERY 279
STREET VIEW IN FUSIO 280
Chapter I
Introduction
MOST men will readily admit that the two poets who have the greatest hold
over Englishmen are Handel and Shakespeare—for it is as a poet, a
sympathiser with and renderer of all estates and conditions whether of
men or things, rather than as a mere musician, that Handel reigns
supreme. There have been many who have known as much English as
Shakespeare, and so, doubtless, there have been no fewer who have known
as much music as Handel: perhaps Bach, probably Haydn, certainly Mozart;
as likely as not, many a known and unknown musician now living; but the
poet is not known by knowledge alone—not by _gnosis_ only—but also, and
in greater part, by the _agape_ which makes him wish to steal men’s
hearts, and prompts him so to apply his knowledge that he shall succeed.
There has been no one to touch Handel as an observer of all that was
observable, a lover of all that was loveable, a hater of all that was
hateable, and, therefore, as a poet. Shakespeare loved not wisely but
too well. Handel loved as well as Shakespeare, but more wisely. He is
as much above Shakespeare as Shakespeare is above all others, except
Handel himself; he is no less lofty, impassioned, tender, and full alike
of fire and love of play; he is no less universal in the range of his
sympathies, no less a master of expression and illustration than
Shakespeare, and at the same time he is of robuster, stronger fibre, more
easy, less introspective. Englishmen are of so mixed a race, so
inventive, and so given to migration, that for many generations to come
they are bound to be at times puzzled, and therefore introspective; if
they get their freedom at all they get it as Shakespeare “with a great
sum,” whereas Handel was “free born.” Shakespeare sometimes errs and
grievously, he is as one of his own best men “moulded out of faults,” who
“for the most become much more the better, for being a little bad;”
Handel, if he puts forth his strength at all, is unerring: he gains the
maximum of effect with the minimum of effort. As Mozart said of him, “he
beats us all in effect, when he chooses he strikes like a thunderbolt.”
Shakespeare’s strength is perfected in weakness; Handel is the serenity
and unself-consciousness of health itself. “There,” said Beethoven on
his deathbed, pointing to the works of Handel, “there—is truth.” These,
however, are details, the main point that will be admitted is that the
average Englishman is more attracted by Handel and Shakespeare than by
any other two men who have been long enough dead for us to have formed a
fairly permanent verdict concerning them. We not only believe them to
have been the best men familiarly known here in England, but we see
foreign nations join us for the most part in assigning to them the
highest place as renderers of emotion.
It is always a pleasure to me to reflect that the countries dearest to
these two master spirits are those which are also dearest to myself, I
mean England and Italy. Both of them lived mainly here in London, but
both of them turned mainly to Italy when realising their dreams.
Handel’s music is the embodiment of all the best Italian music of his
time and before him, assimilated and reproduced with the enlargements and
additions suggested by his own genius. He studied in Italy; his subjects
for many years were almost exclusively from Italian sources; the very
language of his thoughts was Italian, and to the end of his life he would
have composed nothing but Italian operas, if the English public would
have supported him. His spirit flew to Italy, but his home was London.
So also Shakespeare turned to Italy more than to any other country for
his subjects. Roughly, he wrote nineteen Italian, or what to him were
virtually Italian plays, to twelve English, one Scotch, one Danish, three
French, and two early British.
But who does not turn to Italy who has the chance of doing so? What,
indeed, do we not owe to that most lovely and loveable country? Take up
a Bank of England note and the Italian language will be found still
lingering upon it. It is signed “for Bank of England and Compa.”
(_Compagnia_), not “Compy.” Our laws are Roman in their origin. Our
music, as we have seen, and our painting comes from Italy. Our very
religion till a few hundred years ago found its headquarters, not in
London nor in Canterbury, but in Rome. What, in fact, is there which has
not filtered through Italy, even though it arose elsewhere? On the other
hand, there are infinite attractions in London. I have seen many foreign
cities, but I know none so commodious, or, let me add, so beautiful. I
know of nothing in any foreign city equal to the view down Fleet Street,
walking along the north side from the corner of Fetter Lane. It is often
said that this has been spoiled by the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway
bridge over Ludgate Hill; I think, however, the effect is more imposing
now than it was before the bridge was built. Time has already softened
it; it does not obtrude itself; it adds greatly to the sense of size, and
makes us doubly aware of the movement of life, the colossal circulation
to which London owes so much of its impressiveness. We gain more by this
than we lose by the infraction of some pedant’s canon about the
artistically correct intersection of right lines. Vast as is the world
below the bridge, there is a vaster still on high, and when trains are
passing, the steam from the engine will throw the dome of St. Paul’s into
the clouds, and make it seem as though there were a commingling of earth
and some far-off mysterious palace in dreamland. I am not very fond of
Milton, but I admit that he does at times put me in mind of Fleet Street.
While on the subject of Fleet Street, I would put in a word in favour of
the much-abused griffin. The whole monument is one of the handsomest in
London. As for its being an obstruction, I have discoursed with a large
number of omnibus conductors on the subject, and am satisfied that the
obstruction is imaginary.
When, again, I think of Waterloo Bridge, and the huge wide-opened jaws of
those two Behemoths, the Cannon Street and Charing Cross railway
stations, I am not sure that the prospect here is not even finer than in
Fleet Street. See how they belch forth puffing trains as the breath of
their nostrils, gorging and disgorging incessantly those human atoms
whose movement is the life of the city. How like it all is to some great
bodily mechanism of which the people are the blood. And then, above all,
see the ineffable St. Paul’s. I was once on Waterloo Bridge after a
heavy thunderstorm in summer. A thick darkness was upon the river and
the buildings upon the north side, but just below I could see the water
hurrying onward as in an abyss, dark, gloomy, and mysterious. On a level
with the eye there was an absolute blank, but above, the sky was clear,
and out of the gloom the dome and towers of St. Paul’s rose up sharply,
looking higher than they actually were, and as though they rested upon
space.
Then as for the neighbourhood within, we will say, a radius of thirty
miles. It is one of the main businesses of my life to explore this
district. I have walked several thousands of miles in doing so, and I
mark where I have been in red upon the Ordnance map, so that I may see at
a glance what parts I know least well, and direct my attention to them as
soon as possible. For ten months in the year I continue my walks in the
home counties, every week adding some new village or farmhouse to my list
of things worth seeing; and no matter where else I may have been, I find
a charm in the villages of Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, which in its way I
know not where to rival.
I have ventured to say the above, because during the remainder of my book
I shall be occupied almost exclusively with Italy, and wish to make it
clear that my Italian rambles are taken not because I prefer Italy to
England, but as by way of _parergon_, or by-work, as every man should
have both his profession and his hobby. I have chosen Italy as my second
country, and would dedicate this book to her as a thank-offering for the
happiness she has afforded me.