Pictures in Umbria

by Katharine S. Macquoid

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.