Italian Days and Ways

by Anne Hollingsworth Wharton

After winding in and out of narrow streets and up and down steps, all exquisitely picturesque if somewhat fatiguing, we came out on the Piazza del Municipio and before a beautiful thirteenth-century fountain with three basins, which are richly decorated with scriptural and mythological figures. The many slender columns which support these basins give to the whole a charming lightness and grace. This lovely fountain of Fra Bevignate was without water for centuries until, in 1899, the new aqueduct, which comes directly from the springs of Nocera, was opened, whereupon it played gayly in the sunshine, as it does to-day. The Nocera water, for which, bottled, we paid a considerable price in Rome, is free as air on this favored hill-top.

Facing the fountain is the Cathedral of San Lorenzo. To the left of the doorway is a bronze statue of Pope Julian III., who restored some ancient privileges to the Perugians, and on the right is a handsome Gothic pulpit from which St. Bernardino once preached to the faithful in the square. Inside the cathedral we saw the beautiful tomb of Bishop Baglioni, a fine Deposition by Baroccio, and a miraculous picture of the Madonna delle Grazie by Manni.

San Lorenzo claims the distinction of being the burial-place of three popes, Innocent III., Urban IV., and Martin IV. Here, too, is the betrothal ring of the Virgin. This precious relic is preserved in a silver casket guarded by fifteen locks, the keys of which are entrusted to fifteen persons of distinction, and is only to be seen five times during the year. The mystery and exclusiveness with which this relic is guarded whetted Zelphine's curiosity, and she insisted that it was in a certain sense our right to see the precious ring, having been shown the hair of the Blessed Virgin in Rome. Angela said that as American travellers we had a right to see anything and everything, but, as the next date for the exhibition of the ring was the second Sunday in July, the real question at issue was, were we willing to stay in Perugia so long, and, even if the Perugians were disposed to make an earlier date for us, was it likely that the fifteen persons of distinction with their fifteen keys could be collected on short notice? From my own observations, I was inclined to doubt the existence of fifteen Perugians of distinction at any date. However, distinction is a descriptive quite as subject to variations as the clear or cloudy day of the scientific gentleman who arranges our weather for us in America, and some of the men whom we passed on the piazza this morning may be lineal descendants of the ancient lords of Perugia, and now in possession of the important keys.

The celebrated Sposalizio of Perugino—a unique conception of the Virgin's espousal—which should be here with the betrothal ring, has unfortunately been carried off to France; but there are still many more treasures in painting and sculpture in San Lorenzo than we could appreciate in one morning, among the latter a statue of Leo XIII., who was Archbishop of Perugia. Over across the piazza is the Episcopal Palace, where this Prince of the Church lived for many years, preparing himself by study and reflection for the great future in store for him. We passed from the church into the cloisters, which are ruinous, but charming, as are all the ruins here, with their bits of lovely sculpture and flowers growing in the "crannied walls" and on the little balconies above our heads.

Retracing our steps along the Via Bontempi, and losing ourselves several times, after the fashion of travellers who will not consent to have their pleasure interfered with by guides, we reached the quaint covered Via della Stalla and suddenly emerged upon a gay scene—the Piazza Garibaldi on a market-day. Here were flowers and fruits heaped upon wagons, and booths gay with colored prints, gorgeous kerchiefs, and endless lines of small stockings of all colors, which the Perugians doubtless buy even if the feet of their children are as guiltless of covering as those of the Venus and Adonis. The stockings are probably for Sundays and high holidays. Here above all were the peasants from the surrounding country, not wearing the elaborate, gayly colored costume of the Italian peasants of our childhood, but something more picturesque than the work-a-day costume that has disappointed us so much through Italy. The older women had brilliantly colored kerchiefs on their heads, while some of the younger women wore nothing upon theirs except their own glossy, luxuriant hair, which is always neatly and tastefully dressed.

We have often wondered why there are so many old women in Italy. Is it because they live long in this favored clime, or, sadder thought, do the young grow old early under the heavy strain of bread-winning, where wages are low and the mouths to be filled numerous?

Angela, who is an enthusiastic shopper, suggested that we should stop and buy some of the native products, urging that a little shopping would be good for us all and relieve our minds from the strain of cathedrals, statues, and tombs. Indeed the fruit, flowers, and gay handkerchiefs displayed upon the booths were sufficiently alluring to detain us.

Most interesting were the color, movement, and chatter of the sunlit piazza against the gray background of the old Palazzo del Podestà, which is built on the ancient Etruscan wall. It is just such contrasts that make these old Italian towns so charming.

At one of the booths, presided over by a pretty young peasant girl with eyes of brown velvet, Angela found a gay red and yellow bandana which she insisted that the contadina should try on. The effect was so charming that Zelphine took the girl's picture on the spot, to her evident delight. Nothing but a brush and colors, the latter well mixed with the atmospheric transparency of Perugia, could give you any idea of the lovely effect of the girl's soft, dark eyes and the peach-like bloom of her cheeks, both enhanced by the brilliant head-dress. Then the signorina must try on a kerchief. "Ecco! ecco!" Carefully selecting one of dark blue with a yellow border, with many exclamations and more gestures the deft peasant fingers removed Angela's hat, and adjusted the kerchief over her golden crescent of hair. I must confess that the bandana became Angela well enough to excuse the chorus of admiring expressions that arose from a circle of voluble crones gathered around us. "Bella donna! Bella signorina!" was heard on all sides. Some of the women pressed near Angela to kiss her hand, saying that she looked like the pictures of the Madonna over there in the cathedral. The child was a little frightened, and drew closer to me for protection. Zelphine cleverly diverted the attention of the group by taking Angela and the pretty young Rosa Maria across the piazza to the large door of the old Palazzo del Podestà, to take their photographs against this fine background. Nothing could have been more charming than the blonde and brunette heads and graceful girlish figures against the old palace gateway. After taking two or three pictures Zelphine thanked Rosa Maria, pressing a silver coin into her hand; upon which she, with charming ingenuousness, intimated that she would take it as a wedding-gift, and, beckoning to a handsome young peasant whom we had noticed standing over in the shadow of the statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi, she presented him to us with smiles, blushes, and courtesies. Then, as we gathered from the few words that we could understand and by the pair standing hand in hand before Zelphine, Umbrian etiquette demanded that she should take a photograph of the fidanzati together, which congenial task Zelphine set about with alacrity before shyness should overcome the happy couple.

We all hope that the pictures may prove a success, as copies are to be sent to Rosa Maria and Battista, whose names we have in full, their address being the Central Post Office of Perugia, where they are always to be found on market-days.