I cannot tell why this city should be termed “beautiful,” as it were by privilege. Beautiful it is, but no more so than Bologna, and little more than Ferrara, while it falls far short of Venice. You may indeed discern from the top of the bell tower innumerable houses, which cover the hills all around for the distance of two or three leagues; and in the plain, some two leagues in extent, on which the city stands, they seem to touch, so closely are they built one to another. The city is paved with flat stones without pattern or regularity. After the dinner the four gentlemen and a guide took the post to go to visit a place belonging to the duke which is called Castello.[56] There is nothing of merit in the house, but around it are divers gardens, the entire place being set on the slope of a hill, so that the main walks are on the slope, and the cross alleys straight and level; also many arbours, thickly covered with interwoven twigs of sweet-smelling shrubs, such as cedar, cypress, orange, citron, and olive, the branches being enlaced so closely that the sun at his fiercest could not pierce thereinside. The undergrowth of these cypresses and other trees is so close that only three or four persons can pass together through it. Amongst the ponds there is a large one, in the midst of which stands a rock, imitated from nature, which, by the application of the same material used by the duke in covering his grottoes at Pratellino, looks as if it were glazed over; and above it is a large casting of copper worked into the likeness of a hoary old man seated on his breech with crossed arms. From his beard, his forehead, and his skin, there is a perpetual drip of water representing tears and sweat, and indeed this drip is the sole supply of the basin.
In another part of the garden they encountered a very humorous experience, for, as they were walking about therein and marking its curiosities, the gardener for a certain purpose withdrew, and while they stood gazing at some marble statues, there sprang up under their feet and between their legs an infinite number of tiny jets of water, so minute that they resembled exactly drops of rain, and with this they were sprinkled all over. It was produced by the working of subterranean machinery which the gardener, being two hundred paces distant, set in motion. So delicately was it constructed that he was able from where he was stationed to raise and depress the outflow as he willed. The same device is to be found in divers other places. They saw also the great fountain which finds a channel through two vast bronze figures, one of which, clasped by the other in a violent embrace, seems half-fainting, and, with head thrown back, belches forth the stream from his mouth. So great is the force that the column of water rises some thirty-seven fathoms above the top of these figures, which are themselves twenty feet high. Here is a little chamber made amongst the boughs of an evergreen tree of a much more luxuriant growth than any other they had yet seen. It is entirely clipped out of the green boughs of the tree aforesaid, so that there is no prospect to be got therefrom, save through certain apertures which it has been necessary to make here and there, by clearing away the branches. In the midst of the chamber, from pipes which are concealed, rises a fountain which is set in the middle of a marble table. By a certain device the water made music, but this they were not able to hear, for it would have been too late for people who had to return to the city. They saw likewise the coat-of-arms of the duke over a gateway, excellently formed from the branches of trees fostered and restrained in their natural growth by certain ligaments which could scarcely be discerned. Their visit was paid in the season when gardens have their worst aspect, wherefore the wonder was all the greater. Besides the things described above they saw a beautiful grotto, in which were fashioned all sorts of animals after nature, every one of which gave out the water of the fountains, either from the beak or the wing, or the talon, or the ear, or the nostril. I forgot to say that in the palace of this prince there is the figure of a quadruped in bronze after nature, of a very strange form, which is set up on a column.[57] The foreparts are scaly, and upon the back are members of a fashion I cannot describe—somewhat like horns. The story is that it was discovered in a cave in the adjacent mountains and brought hither alive several years ago. We saw likewise the palace of the Queen Mother[58]; and M. de Montaigne, according to his wont, was minded to test the capabilities of the city by looking at rooms which were to let and boarding-houses, but he found none worth notice. From what was told him it appeared that lodgings were only to be had at the hostelries, and the private apartments which he saw were far more costly than those of Paris, or even of Venice. The table was mean, and cost more than twelve crowns per mensem for the gentlefolk. In this city no seemly diversion was to be had, neither in arms, nor horsemanship, nor letters.[59] Pewter ware is very scarce in these parts, the service being made on vessels of painted earthenware none too clean.
VI
JOURNEY TO ROME
On the morning of Thursday, November 24, we departed and found ourselves in a country fairly fertile, thickly peopled, and everywhere under tillage. The road was uneven and stony, and, after a very long journey, we arrived late at night at Siena, thirty-two miles, or four posts, which here they reckon of eight miles, somewhat longer than ours usually are. On the Friday we examined the place carefully, especially with respect to our own military operations therein.[60] The site of the city is very irregular, for it is built on the ridge of a hill, where most of the streets are to be found. Other thoroughfares lead down the slopes on either side by means of steps, some of these mounting the opposite hill to various levels. The city is about the same size as Florence, and one of the fairest of Italy, but not of the first order, its great antiquity being proclaimed by its aspect. Everywhere fountains are plentiful, but it is said that individual persons draw water privately from the conduits for their particular use. Here are to be found fine cool cellars. The Dome, which is scarcely inferior to that at Florence, is covered almost entirely within and without with marble of the place: square pieces, some a foot thick, some less, are used for panelling the same, for they always cover thus buildings of brick, the common building material of this land. The most beautiful portion of the city is the circular market-place, a fine expanse which slopes from all sides towards the palace, which in itself forms one of the segments of the circle, somewhat less curved than the rest. In front of the palace, and at the highest point of the market-place, is a very beautiful fountain, which discharges itself by several pipes, and fills a great basin where any one may take at will the purest water.[61] Several streets open into this place, the pavement being set in steps. In the town are many streets, certain of them being very ancient. The chief of these is the Piccolomini, then the Tolomei, the Colombini and the Cerretani.[62] We saw indications of an antiquity of three or four hundred years. The arms of the city, which are displayed on columns in several places, represent the she-wolf which gave suck to Romulus and Remus.
The Duke of Florence treats with courtesy the nobles who are in our interest, and keeps about his person Silvio Piccolomini, a gentleman who is better endowed than any other of our day in all sorts of science and in the practice of arms.[63] The duke being chiefly concerned in guarding himself from his own subjects, leaves to his various cities the duty of fortifying themselves, but keeps a hold on the citadels, which are provisioned and guarded with great outlay of money and labour, and with such watchful suspicion that few people are allowed to approach them. The women mostly wear bonnets, and we marked some who, by way of reverence, removed their headgear like the men at the moment of the elevation of the Host. We found lodging at the “Crown,”[64] which was fairly good, but we had no glass or even linen windows.
M. de Montaigne, when he was asked by the house-steward at Pratellino whether he was not amazed at the beauty of the place, replied, after certain words of praise, that he was greatly offended by the ill-seeming of the doors and windows, and of the great pinewood tables, without shape or ornament; with the rude and insecure locks, like those used in our villages, and with the roofs of hollow tiles. Moreover, he declared that, if it were found impossible to conceal these tiles by the use of slate or lead or brass, they might at least keep them out of sight by the arrangement of the building, and the steward said he would carry this counsel to his master.
The duke leaves unmolested the ancient marks and devices of the city, which everywhere echo the cry of “Liberty.” Again, as to the tombs and epitaphs of the French who died here, they have removed them to a remote corner of the town, under the pretence of some reconstruction and rebuilding of the church wherein they were placed. On Saturday the 26th, after dinner, we went twelve miles through a country resembling the last we traversed, and arrived in time for supper at Buonconvento, a Tuscan Castello, a word they apply to the walled villages which, from their smallness, do not merit the name of town. Early on Sunday morning we departed therefrom, and because M. de Montaigne desired to see Montalcino, on account of the associations of the French therewith, he turned off the road to the right and, with M. d’Estissac, M. de Mattecoulon, and M. du Hautoy, repaired to the town aforesaid, which they described as an ill-built place, about the size of Saint Emilion,[65] situated on the top of the highest mountain of the district, but still accessible. They heard High Mass which was being said there. At one end of the town is a castle garrisoned for the duke, but M. de Montaigne was of opinion that it was faulty as a stronghold, being commanded on one side by another mountain some hundred paces distant.
In the duke’s dominions the people hold the French in such great affection that the awakening of any memory of our country will almost certainly bring tears to their eyes. It would seem that they prefer even war, with some form of freedom, to the peace they enjoy under their tyrant. M. de Montaigne inquired whether there were not certain French tombs in the town,[66] and was informed that these formerly were in the church of S. Agostino, but that by the command of the duke the remains had been buried in the earth. Our road lay through a mountainous, stony country for twenty-three miles, and in the evening we came to La Paille, a little village of five or six houses, at the foot of sterile and forbidding mountains. Early next morning we resumed our journey, traversing a deep and very stony valley, and passing and repassing a hundred times a torrent which flowed through the same. At the limit of the duke’s territory we came to a fine bridge, built by Pope Gregory,[67] and entered the States of the Church, coming first to Acquapendente, a small town which, as I believe, takes its name from a torrent hard by which falls from the rocks down on to the plain. Then we passed a Castello, called S. Lorenzo, and another, Bolsena, and turning round the Lake of Bolsena, which is thirty miles long, ten wide, and has in its midst islands on which they say are monasteries, we went in one bout of twenty-six miles over a rocky and barren road to Montefiascone, a little town placed on the summit of one of the highest mountains in the country. It is very small, but shows signs of great antiquity. We quitted it next morning, and crossed a fine fertile plain, in which is situated Viterbo, part of the town being built on the crest of a hill. This is a fine place, about the size of Senlis, in which we observed many handsome houses, numerous workmen, fair pleasant streets, and three very beautiful fountains in divers parts of the town. On account of the beauty of the place M. de Montaigne would fain have tarried there, but his baggage mule, which he sent in advance, had already passed onward. Here we began the ascent of the flank of a high mountain, and at the end of the descent on the farther side we came upon the little Lake of Vico. Then, having traversed a delightful valley, bordered by gentle hills rich in wood—a commodity very rare in these parts—and by the lake aforesaid, we found ourselves in good time at Rossiglione,[68] after riding nineteen miles.
This is a small town, with a castle belonging to the Duke of Parma; indeed, along this road are to be found several mansions and estates belonging to the Farnese family. Lodging on this road is of the best, inasmuch as it is the great post road. They charge five giulios[69] for the hire of a horse, and two for the post, and they make the same terms if the horses are hired for two or three posts, or for several days, in which case the hirer has no trouble about the horses; for, from one place to another, the innkeepers take charge of those belonging to their neighbours, and, moreover, they will make a contract under which you may be supplied with a fresh horse elsewhere on the road in case one of your own should fail. At Siena we saw for ourselves how a man trusted a horse to a certain Fleming, who was travelling in company with us, alone, unknown, and a stranger to the owner of the horse, simply on the condition that the horse hire should be paid before starting. In every other respect the horse is at your disposal, under your promise that you will leave him where you have agreed. M. de Montaigne, adapting himself, as was his wont, to the custom of the country, fell into the way of dining early and supping late, for in the good houses the dinner is only served at noon, and the supper at nine o’clock; for instance, in these places where we found playhouses the acting began by torchlight at six, and lasted two or three hours; then we returned to sup. M. de Montaigne would remark that this was a good country for lazy folk, seeing the hour of rising was so late.
On the morrow we set forth three hours before daybreak, so keenly was M. de Montaigne set on seeing the Roman plain by day. He found the cold air of morning as hurtful to his stomach as that of the evening,[70] and was ill at ease till sunrise, though the night was fine. After the fifteenth milestone we caught sight of the city of Rome: then we lost it for some long time. On the road we passed several villages and inns. We came upon some portions of road, elevated and paved with large stones, having about them a certain look of antiquity; and nearer to the city we remarked some masonry, evidently of great age, and stones which the Popes had caused to be reinstated on account of their antiquarian interest. The greater part of the ruins—the baths of Diocletian, for instance—are of bricks, small and plain like those we use, and not of the size and thickness of those we see in the ancient ruins of France and elsewhere. On our road the city did not show itself very plainly. Far on the left hand were the Apennines, the aspect of the country being unpleasing, rugged, full of deep clefts, and unfitted for the passage of troops or ordnance. All the land is treeless, and a good part of it sterile, and lying open for ten miles and more, the houses being very sparse, as in all countries of this sort. Travelling thus we went thirty miles, and arrived on the last day of November—Saint Andrew’s day—at the Porta del Popolo of Rome.