A SURVEY OF ITALY (1580-1581)
At the end of the sixteenth century Italy is well under way on a new
stretch of history, which lasted until the nineteenth century. Except
Venice, always individual, and the Papacy, freshly revivified, Italy has
lost all moral force, and become wholly effeminate. In twenty-five years
three hundred and twenty-six volumes of sonnets were published. Her
political life has become what one may call grand-ducal; her religion
formal, superstitious; her literature affected, stilted; her
architecture Baroque; her painting and sculpture steeped in mannerism
and exaggeration. Nevertheless, Italy is Italy, and has her own charm,
her own individuality, her own coquetry. As formerly she lured Barbarian
nations, so now she lures individual Barbarians, and becomes the
roaming-ground of travellers. She seems less a real country than a
theatre, where rococo dukes, cavaliers, and ladies curl their hair and
powder their cheeks.
For two centuries this artificial existence continued. Its history is
not to be found in the solemn volumes of Cesare Cantu, Carlo Botta, or
other Italian historians, but in the journals of German, French, and
English travellers: for during these centuries Italy was not a country
in either a political or a sentimental sense; it was a place of
recreation for gentlemen on the grand tour, pious folk bound Romeward,
virtuosi seeking classical remains, and elderly statesmen hoping to cure
the gout. The several petty states were so many artificial gardens,
where the peasants wore pretty costumes, the dukes sang prize songs, the
duchesses trilled _tra la la_ in rival endeavour, and the ecclesiastics
trolled out the chorus. It was the Italian opera bouffe on the most
charming stage in the world. The best summary of the history of the
coming century will be a series of extracts from the diary of a
keen-witted French gentleman, travelling for pleasure, Michel de
Montaigne, who, in the company of some friends, spent several months in
Italy (1580-81). They crossed the Alps over the Brenner Pass and went by
way of Trent. Montaigne's diary is sometimes written in the second and
sometimes in the third person. He describes many of the principal
cities.
VERONA (within the territory of the Republic of Venice).
"Without health certificates which they had got at Trent they could not
have entered the city, although there was no rumour of any danger of
pest; but it is the custom (in order to cheat us of the few pennies they
cost). We went to see the cathedral, where Montaigne deemed the
behaviour of the men at High Mass very peculiar; they chatted even in
the choir of the church, standing up, with their hats on and their backs
turned to the altar, and did not seem to pay any attention to the
service except on the elevation of the Host. There were organs and
violins to accompany the mass.... We went to see the castle and were
shown all over by the lieutenant in charge. The [Venetian] government
keeps sixty soldiers there, rather, according to what they said to
Montaigne, against the people of the city than against foreigners. We
also saw a congregation of monks called the Gesuati of St. Jerome [not
Jesuits]. They are not priests; they neither say mass nor preach; most
of them are ignorant, but they carry on a business of distilling
lemon-flower water, both in Verona and elsewhere. They are dressed in
white, with little white caps, and a dark brown gown over it;
good-looking young men." They visited the Ghetto (Jews' quarter), and
the Roman amphitheatre, which Montaigne thought the noblest building he
had ever seen.
VICENZA. "It is a big city, a little smaller than Verona, all
full of palaces of the nobility." The fair, which was held twice a year,
was going on upon the parade-ground; booths had been built on purpose,
and no shops in the city were allowed to keep open. In the town there
was another establishment of the Gesuati, selling their perfumes and
also medicines for every ailment. "These monks tell us that they whip
themselves every day; each one has his switch at his post in the
oratory, where they meet at certain hours of the day and pray, but they
have no singing.... The old wine has given out, which vexed me, as it is
not good for me, on account of my colic, to drink the new wines, though
they are very good in their way." From Vicenza they journeyed by a broad
straight road, ditched on either side and raised a little, which ran
through a fertile champaign with mountains in the distance, to
PADUA. The inns here could not be compared with German inns
except that they were cheaper by a third. "The streets narrow and ugly,
not many people, few handsome houses. We went about all the next day and
saw the schools of fencing, dancing, and riding, where there were more
than a hundred French gentlemen together." In fact, young men went in
great numbers, young Frenchmen in particular, to the schools of Padua,
less to acquire a knowledge of books than to acquire the accomplishments
which were then the mode. One of Montaigne's party stopped here and
found good lodging for seven crowns a month, and "he might have lodged a
valet for five crowns more; ordinarily, however, they do not have
valets, only a general servant for the house, or else maids; every one
has a nice bedroom, but fire and lights in the bedroom are extra. The
accommodation was very good, and you can live there very reasonably, and
that, I think, is the reason why many strangers go there to live, even
those who are not students."
VENICE. Here he dined with the French ambassador "very well;"
among other things "that the ambassador told him this seemed odd, that
he had no social relations whatever with anybody in the city, because
the people were so suspicious that a [Venetian] gentleman who should
speak to him twice would fall under distrust." One is inclined, however,
considering the fate of Milan, to regard a certain distrust of
foreigners as not unnatural. Montaigne thought that the four most
remarkable things about Venice were the situation, the police, the
Piazza of St. Mark's, and the crowds of foreigners. He received as a
gift a little book of "Letters" from a Venetian lady, one of that
celebrated class of Venetian women who were outside the matrimonial pale
yet lived in ostentatious luxury, recognized by the government and by
masculine society. This lady at mid-life had changed her ways and
devoted herself to literature, and hearing of the famous French author,
sent him her book.
Returning by way of Padua, Montaigne passed the sulphur springs,
frequented in May and August by the fashionable sick, who took mud or
vapour baths and drank the waters. He noted the canals; the system of
irrigation in the plains, where rows of vine-laden trees intersected
fields of wheat; the big, strong, gray oxen; the broad mud flats, once
swamps, which the government was struggling to reclaim.
ROVIGO, a little town in Venetian territory near the Adige.
"There is as great abundance of meat here as in France, whatever it may
be the custom to say, and though they use no lard for the roast, they do
not take away the savour. The bedrooms, because there is no glass and
they don't shut the windows, are not so clean as in France; the beds are
better made, smoother, and well supplied with mattresses, but they have
nothing but coarse coverings, and they are very sparing of white sheets;
if a man travels alone, or with little style, he won't get any. It is
about as dear as in France, or a little dearer."
He crossed the Po, as he had crossed the Adige, upon some kind of
pontoon bridge, and went on to
FERRARA (duchy of Ferrara), where he was delayed on account of
his health certificate. The ducal regulations on this point were very
particular. On the door of every room in the inn was written up,
"Remember the health certificate;" immediately on arrival, names of
travellers were reported to the magistrates. Montaigne found most of the
streets broad and straight, all paved with bricks; there were many
palaces, but few people, and he missed the porticos of Padua, so
convenient against the rain. He _did_ the town, paid his respects to the
duke, saw Tasso in the madhouse, and found the lemon-flower distilling
Gesuates again.
At BOLOGNA (in the Papal States), a large, fine city, bigger
than Ferrara, and with many more people; he also found young Frenchmen
come to learn riding and fencing. He admired the fine porticos, that
covered almost every sidewalk, the handsome palaces, the buildings of
the _School of Sciences_, the bronze statue of Neptune designed by John
of Bologna, and enjoyed a company of players. "The cost of living was
about the same as at Padua, very reasonable; but the city is less
peaceful in the older quarters, which make debatable land between the
partisans of different nations, on one side always the French, and on
the other the Spaniards, who are there in great numbers."
This unpeaceful and factional condition was not confined to Bologna, but
spread throughout the Papal States. Even fifty years later a perplexed
visitor to Ravenna wrote: "The city is divided, as you know, into
Guelfs and Ghibellines, so much so that one man won't go to another's
church, and each side has its place in the public square; a tailor who
works for one need not look for employment from the other, and so with
all the trades; they distinguish one faction from the other by the way
they wear their hair, their caps," etc. But these pale shadows of the
great old parties were slight inconveniences compared with the banditti,
who also decked themselves with old names, and, under pretence of
fighting one another, robbed, burnt, pillaged, and murdered with perfect
impartiality. The soldiers and the common people united against these
rascals, but they were too strong to be utterly extirpated. In the Papal
States, one Piccolomini, a member of a famous Sienese family, raided
where he chose, and once led a band of two hundred men within a mile or
two of the walls of Rome. Terms were made with him, for he was under the
protection of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and although he confessed to
three hundred and seventy murders within twenty-five years, he was
pardoned and absolved.
Leaving Bologna, Montaigne hesitated in his choice of roads on account
of brigands, and chose wisely for he was not molested. He crossed the
Apennines by a road, which he says is the first that could be called
bad, and entered the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. One village on the way,
still in papal territory, was famous for the knavery of the innkeepers,
who made wonderful promises till the traveller was safely housed, and
then rendered the scantest performance. At the next village, which was
in Tuscany, rival hosts rode out to meet the traveller, and struggled to
secure him, promising everything. One offered to serve a rabbit for
dinner free, if Montaigne would lodge with him. The party prudently rode
about to all the inns on a tour of inspection, examining food and wine,
and making their bargain before dismounting; the host, however, managed
to put extras on the bill, it being impossible to remember beforehand
every item, wood, candles, linen, hay, etc.
Next day Montaigne rode out of his way to see Pratolino, the Grand
Duke's famous country place, with its gardens, alleys, wonderful
grottos, all decked with Nereids and Tritons, and fountains of
extravagant baroque designs. From there he went on to
FLORENCE, which appeared to him smaller than Ferrara. He went
to see the ducal stables, the ducal menagerie, Michelangelo's statues,
Giotto's campanile; and remarked that he had never seen a country with
so few handsome women as Italy. Lodgings were inferior in comfort to
those in France, and the food was far less generous and less well served
than in Germany, where, also, sauces and seasonings were far superior;
the windows were big and always open, for there was no glass, and if the
shutters were shut they excluded light and air as well as wind; the beds
were uncomfortable, the wines too sweet; moreover, Florence was esteemed
the most expensive city in Italy.
Montaigne dined with the duke, Francesco I (son of Cosimo I), and his
second wife, Bianca Cappello, the famous Venetian, who sat at the head
of the table. She had a pleasant face, was reputed handsome, and seemed
to have been able to keep her husband devoted to her for a long time.
The duke mixed water freely with his wine; she scarcely at all. After a
brief stay, during which he visited gardens and the environs of the
city, which he admired greatly, Montaigne rode southward to
SIENA. The country was cultivated everywhere and tolerably
fertile, but the road was rough and stony. At Siena he notes the Duomo,
the palaces, the _piazza_, the fountains, and, important point, that
"there are good cellars and fresh;" also, that in Tuscany the city walls
are let go to ruin, while the citadels are carefully fortified and no
one is permitted to go near, showing that the duke feared domestic
insurrection more than foreign attack. He observes "the French are kept
in such affectionate remembrance here by the people of the country, that
at any mention of them tears well up in their eyes, for war itself, with
freedom in some form, seems to them sweeter than the peace which they
enjoy under this tyranny." The French had aided Siena in its brave
struggle for liberty, and a valiant remnant of French and Sienese had
held out till the Peace of Cateau-Cambresis (1559), when France
abandoned them to Cosimo dei Medici.
From Siena he rode southward past Bolsena, Viterbo, and a pleasant
valley surrounded by hills covered with wood, "a commodity somewhat rare
in this country." Incidentally he commends the customs: in good houses
dinner was served at two o'clock and supper at nine; and if there was a
play, it began at six and was over by supper time. "It is a good country
for a lazy fellow for they get up late."
At ROME he put up for a day at the _Bear_, and then took
lodgings, three good bedrooms, parlour, dining-room, kitchen, and
stable, for twenty crowns a month, the host providing the cook and fire
for the kitchen. "Apartments are ordinarily somewhat better furnished
than in Paris, especially as they have a great deal of gilt leather,
with which the walls of apartments of a certain grade are hung." He
might have hired another apartment for the same price, furnished in silk
and cloth of gold, but he did not think this luxury suitable, and the
rooms were not so convenient. Ancient Rome impressed him immensely, and
the modern city, too; he was astonished by the papal court, the number
of prelates, the crowd of ecclesiasts, by the streets, so full of richly
dressed men, of horses and coaches.
Making a comparison between freedom in Venice and in Rome, he argued for
Venice, and adduced these reasons: "Item, that in Rome houses were so
insecure, that those who had considerable sums of money were advised to
leave their purses at their bankers, so as not to find their chest
broken open; item, that it was not very safe to go out at night; item,
that, in the very first month of his visit, the General of the
Cordeliers was abruptly dismissed from his post and put in prison,
because in a sermon, which he preached before the Pope [Gregory XIII]
and the cardinals, he had accused prelates of laziness and luxury, but
without going into details, and using (with some asperity of voice) only
perfectly common and current phrases on the subject; item, that his
luggage had been examined on entering the city for the customs, and had
been ransacked down to the smallest article of clothing, whereas in most
of the other cities in Italy the officials had been satisfied with the
mere offer to submit to examination; besides that, they had taken all
the books they found in order to examine them, and took so long about
it, that a man who had something to do might put them down as lost; add
to that, that their rules were so extraordinary that the 'Book of Hours
of Our Lady' fell under their suspicion, because it came from Paris and
not from Rome, and they also kept books, written by some German doctors
against heretics, because in combating them they made mention of their
errors."
On Christmas day at St. Peter's during mass, Montaigne "was surprised to
see Pope, cardinals, and other prelates, seated almost all through the
mass, talking and conversing together. The ceremony seemed more
magnificent than devotional." He obtained an interview with the Pope,
very ceremonious; and dined with a French cardinal, where the
_benedicite_ and repetitions of grace, very long, were recited
antiphonally by two chaplains. During dinner the Bible was read, and
after the table was cleared, service was held; everything was
exceedingly formal, but the _chef_ does not appear to have equalled
Cardinal Caraffa's _chef_, a culinary enthusiast, with whom Montaigne
had a long talk on sauces, soups, and serving. Montaigne attended the
Carnival sports on the Corso, a festival already at that time more than
a hundred years old, where boys, Jews, old men, horses, asses, and
buffalo ran races; fair ladies, without masks, looked on, and young
cavaliers congregated where the ladies could see them; the ladies were
richly clad, the gentlemen simply; and (Montaigne adds) the appearance
of the dukes, counts, and marquesses was not equal to their titles.
Montaigne's "Essays" had been submitted to the Master of the Palace, who
examined them with the aid of a French friar, for the Master knew no
French. After a delay they were returned, and the Master left it to
Montaigne's conscience to alter what might seem to be in bad taste,
especially in those points to which the French friar objected; item,
that Montaigne had used the word _Fortune_; item, that he had named
poets who were heretics; item, that he had made an apology for Julian
the Apostate; item, that he had suggested that when a man was saying his
prayers he ought at that moment to be free from any unworthy
inclination; item, that he judged any punishment in excess of death,
cruelty; item, that a child should be educated to do all sorts of
things, etc. Another book belonging to Montaigne, a history of the
Swiss, was confiscated, because the translator was a heretic.
On Maundy Thursday he saw the Pope come forth on the balcony of St.
Peter's attended by his cardinals. On one side a canon, speaking Latin;
on the other, a cardinal read, in Italian, a long bull which
excommunicated an everlasting list of people, including the Huguenots
and all princes who withheld any portion of the territory of the Church.
At this last article Cardinals Medici and Caraffa laughed heartily. At
night there was a great procession of religious guilds, with twelve
thousand torches, including files of Penitents, who scourged their bare
backs till the blood ran. Montaigne, however, was of opinion that these
Penitents were hired for this purpose. He agreed with the French
ambassador, that the poor people were incomparably more devout in France
than here, but that in Rome the rich, and especially the courtiers, were
more devout than in France.
From Rome Montaigne made his way northward by SPOLETO, where
there was great alarm caused by a noted brigand. On the way he notes his
food,--salt fish, beans uncooked, artichokes also uncooked, peas, green
almonds, eggs, cheese, wine, and, in little places, olive oil instead of
butter. "You meet monks every now and then who give holy water to
travellers and expect alms in return, and a lot of children who beg and
hold out their beads, promising to say a string of paternosters for the
person who will give them something."
The Umbrian plain was beautiful and fertile, with grains and fruits in
abundance, the whole country rich beyond description. So, too, had been
the Roman Campagna, but that was not tenanted, for its owners, the Roman
barons, had let it to merchant farmers, who did not maintain peasants
there, but in harvest time hired husbandmen from all over Italy, to the
number of forty thousand, to gather in the crops. From FOLIGNO he turned
to the right and crossed the Apennines just below Assisi, and travelled
toward the Adriatic coast, making a pilgrimage to LORETO, a place like
Lourdes, celebrated for its miracles, and for the "very same little
house in which Jesus Christ was born in Nazareth." Here he found the
people much more religious than elsewhere; even the attendants in the
Church were ready to do anything, and would accept no tips. Thence he
went to ANCONA, SINIGAGLIA, URBINO, where he inspected the famous palace
begun by Federigo da Montefeltro; then back to FLORENCE, once more to
admire the beautiful villas which decked the hills round about, and on
to PRATO and PISTOIA, stagnating little towns, whose civic life had been
crushed out by the Medici. So he rode on through lovely country, where
long lines of little trees, trellised with vines, divided the rich
fields of grain, skirting the hills covered with olive, mulberry, and
chestnut, till he reached LUCCA, which had saved itself from the clutch
of the Medici by clinging to the skirts of Austria.
Lucca, girdled by fortifications worthy of a most martial ardour,
maintained a comfortable prosperity by the manufacture of silk; but
here, as elsewhere, it was becoming unfashionable to engage in trade,
partly on account of decreasing returns and the general waning of
energy, and partly from Spanish influences. Gentlemen retired from
business, invested their money in landed estates, and were rapidly
tending to become the characters which we find in Goldoni's comedies.
From Lucca Montaigne went to the BATHS OF LUCCA and took the cure for
near two months. He found the country lovely, but society a little slow;
most of the men were apothecaries. After the cure he made another tour
southward, then back to Lucca for more baths, from there northward, on
the road to Milan, stopping at PONTREMOLI. At the inn in this place, the
dinner began with cheese _alla milanese_, included a dish of olives,
their pits taken out, dressed with oil and vinegar _alla genovese_; on a
bench stood one basin in which all the guests washed their hands in the
same water, _alla pontremolese_. From there he crossed the Apennines,
where the mountaineers, horrid people, charged them most cruel prices,
and went on into the duchy of Parma, where Alessandro Farnese, the great
general, was the reigning duke. At PIACENZA, the King of Spain, out of
his abundant caution, still maintained a Spanish garrison in the castle,
"badly paid as they told me." Thence they proceeded into the duchy of
Milan.
At PAVIA Montaigne remarks, that from Rome northward the best
inn he had lodged at was the _Post_ at Piacenza, and the worst the
_Falcon_ at Pavia: "You pay extra for wood, and there are no mattresses
on the beds." MILAN was the largest city in Italy, not unlike
Paris, full of merchandise and craftsmen; it lacked the palaces of other
cities, but in size excelled them all, and in throng of people rivalled
Venice.
From Milan he rode westward, and entered the domains of the Duke of
Savoy, crossing the Sesia near Vercelli, where the duke was building a
fort in such haste, that he aroused the suspicion of his Spanish
neighbours. Thence he went to TURIN. Here the people imitated
French ways, looked up to Paris, usually spoke French, or rather French
words with Italian pronunciation, and altogether seemed very devoted to
France. Montaigne liked Piedmont, finding the inns there better than
elsewhere in Italy. The bread was bad but the wine good, there was
plenty to eat, and the innkeepers were polite. He crossed the Alps over
the Mt. Cenis Pass, half the time on horseback, half the time in a
chaise borne by four porters, and then entered Savoy proper, passing its
capital, Chamberi, crossing the Rhone to the north and then the little
river Ain to the westward, and came to MONTLUEL, the last town
of Savoy, and so on to the Saone, Lyons, and French soil (November,
1581).
Such was the Italy of the long period from 1580 to 1789, the land of
olives, mulberries, and chestnuts, of fertile fields crossed by
vine-laden trees, of irrigated plains and treeless mountains, of
innkeepers, good, bad, and indifferent, of Spanish garrisons, ducal
citadels, and dare-devil banditti, of begging urchins, perfuming friars,
of gentlemen too genteel to work, of prelates in coaches, of antique
ruins and Renaissance glory, of blue sky and vivacious manners, in
short, almost the Italy that our fathers knew before the perturbations
of 1848.