Florence and Northern Tuscany with Genoa - With Sixteen Illustrations In Colour By William Parkinson - And Sixteen Other Illustrations, Second Edition

Edward Hutton

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• Publié par: uffo
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 32
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 7 Mo

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Florence and Northern Tuscany with Genoa
by Edward Hutton
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Title: Florence and Northern Tuscany with Genoa
With Sixteen Illustrations In Colour By William Parkinson
And Sixteen Other Illustrations, Second Edition
Author: Edward Hutton
Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16477]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLORENCE ***
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FLORENCE
AND NORTHERN TUSCANY
WITH GENOA
BY EDWARD HUTTON
O rosa delle rose, O rosa bella,
Per te non dormo nè notte nè giorno,
E sempre penso alla tua faccia bella,
Alle grazie che hai, faccio ritorno.
Faccio ritorno alle grazie che hai:
Ch'io ti lasci, amor mio, non creder mai.
WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY WILLIAM
PARKINSON AND SIXTEEN OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
SECOND EDITION
LONDON, 1907, 1908TO MY FRIEND WILLIAM HEYWOOD
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
FREDERIC UVEDALE: A ROMANCE
STUDIES IN THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS
ITALY AND THE ITALIANS
THE CITIES OF UMBRIA
THE CITIES OF SPAIN
SIGISMONDO MALATESTA
COUNTRY WALKS ROUND FLORENCE. (In the Press).
ROME. (In preparation)
FROM THE UFFIZI
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
I. GENOA
II. ON THE WAY
III. PORTO VENERE
IV. SARZANA AND LUNA
V. CARRARA, MASSA DUCALE, PIETRA-SANTA, VIAREGGIOVI. PISA
VII. LIVORNO
VIII. TO SAN MINIATO AL TEDESCO
IX. EMPOLI, MONTELUPO, LASTRA, SIGNA
X. FLORENCE
XI. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA AND PALAZZO VECCHIO
XII. THE BAPTISTERY—THE DUOMO—THE CAMPANILE—THE
OPERA DEL DUOMO
XIII. OR SAN MICHELE
XIV. PALAZZO RICCARDI, AND THE RISE OF THE MEDICI
XV. SAN MARCO AND SAVONAROLA
XVI. SANTA MARIA NOVELLA
XVII. SANTA CROCE
XVIII. SAN LORENZO
XIX. CHURCHES NORTH OF ARNO
XX. OLTR'ARNO
XXI. THE BARGELLO
XXII. THE ACCADEMIA
XXIII. THE UFFIZI
XXIV. THE PITTI GALLERY
XXV. FIESOLE AND SETTIGNANO
XXVI. VALLOMBROSA AND THE CASENTINO
XXVII. PRATO
XXVIII. PISTOJA
XXIX. LUCCA
XXX. OVER THE GARFAGNANA
INDEX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
VIEW FROM THE UFFIZI
ON THE ROAD
BADIA A SETTIMO
PONTE VECCHIO
LOGGIA DE' LANZI
PIAZZA DEL DUOMO
OR SAN MICHELE
THE FLOWER MARKET, FLORENCE
CHIOSTRO DI S. MARCO
S. MARIA NOVELLA
OGNISSANTI
VIA GUICCIARDINI
PONTE VECCHIO
THE BOBOLI GARDENS
COSTA DI S. GIORGIO
OUTSIDE THE GATE
IN MONOTONE
PORTO VENERE
PISA
WAX MODEL FOR THE PERSEUS IN THE BARGELLO, BENVENUTOCELLINI
THE MADONNA DELLA CINTOLA, BY NANNI DI BANCO, DUOMO,
FLORENCE
SINGING BOYS FROM THE CANTORIA OF LUCA DELLA ROBBIA,
OPERA DEL DUOMO, FLORENCE
THE CRUCIFIXION, BY FRA ANGELICO, S. MARCO, FLORENCE
ST. JOHN THE DIVINE, BY DONATELLO, DUOMO, FLORENCE
THE LADY WITH THE NOSEGAY (VANNA TORNABUONI), IN THE
BARGELLO, BY ANDREA VERROCCHIO
"LA NOTTE," FROM TOMB OF GIULIANO DE' MEDICI, BY
MICHELANGELO
THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS, BY DOMENICO
GHIRLANDAJO, ACCADEMIA
THE THREE GRACES, FROM THE PRIMAVERA, BY SANDRO
BOTTICELLI, ACCADEMIA
THE BIRTH OF VENUS, BY SANDRO BOTTICELLI, UFFIZI GALLERY
THE ANNUNCIATION, BY ANDREA VERROCCHIO, UFFIZI GALLERY
PIETÀ, BY FRA BARTOLOMMEO, PITTI GALLERY
THE TOMB OF ILARIA DEL CARETTO, BY JACOPO DELLA QUERCIA,
DUOMO, LUCCA
THE TOMB OF THE MARTYR S. ROMANO IN S. ROMANO, LUCCA,
BY MATTEO CIVITALI
A MAP OF THE CITIES OF NORTHERN TUSCANY
I. GENOA 1
I
The traveller who on his way to Italy passes along the Riviera di Ponente,
through Marseilles, Nice, and Mentone to Ventimiglia, or crossing the Alps
touches Italian soil, though scarcely Italy indeed, at Turin, on coming to Genoa
finds himself really at last in the South, the true South, of which Genoa la
Superba is the gate, her narrow streets, the various life of her port, her
picturesque colour and dirt, her immense palaces of precious marbles, her
oranges and pomegranates and lemons, her armsful of children, and above all
the sun, which lends an eternal gladness to all these characteristic or delightful
things, telling him at once that the North is far behind, that even Cisalpine Gaulthings, telling him at once that the North is far behind, that even Cisalpine Gaul
is crossed and done with, and that here at last by the waves of that old and
great sea is the true Italy, that beloved and ancient land to which we owe
almost everything that is precious and valuable in our lives, and in which still, if
we be young, we may find all our dreams. What to us are the weary miles of
Eastern France if we come by road, the dreadful tunnels full of despair and filth
if we come by rail, now that we have at last returned to her, or best of all,
perhaps, found her for the first time in the spring at twenty-one or so, like a fair 2
woman forlorn upon the mountains, the Ariadne of our race who placed in our
hand the golden thread that led us out of the cavern of the savage to the
sunlight and to her. But though, indeed, I think all this may be clearer to those
who come to her in their first youth by the long white roads with a song on their
lips and a dream in their hearts—for the song is drowned by the iron wheels
that doubtless have their own music, and the dream is apt to escape in the
horror of the night imprisoned with your fellows; still, as we are so quick to
assure ourselves, there are other ways of coming to Italy than on foot: in a
motor-car, for instance, our own modern way, ah! so much better than the train,
and truly almost as good as walking. For there is the start in the early morning,
the sweet fresh air of the fields and the hills, the long halt at midday at the old
inn, or best of all by the roadside, the afternoon full of serenity, that gradually
passes into excitement and eager expectancy as you approach some unknown
town; and every night you sleep in a new place, and every morning the joy of
the wanderer is yours. You never "find yourself" in any city, having won to it
through many adventures, nor ever are you too far away from the place you lay
at on the night before. And so, as you pass on and on and on, till the road which
at first had entranced you, wearies you, terrifies you, relentlessly opening
before you in a monstrous white vista, and you who began by thinking little of
distance find, as I have done, that only the roads are endless, even for you too
the endless way must stop when it comes to the sea; and there you have won
at last to Italy, at Genoa.
If you come by Ventimiglia, starting early, all the afternoon that white vision will
rise before you like some heavenly city, very pure and full of light, beckoning
you even from a long way off across innumerable and lovely bays, splendid
upon the sea. While if you come from Turin, it is only at sunset you will see her,
suddenly in a cleft of the mountains, the sun just gilding the Pharos before night
comes over the sea, opening like some great flower full of coolness and 3
fragrance.
It was by sea that John Evelyn came to Genoa after many adventures; and
though we must be content to forego much of the surprise and romance of an
advent such as that, yet for us too there remain many wonderful things which
we may share with him. The waking at dawn, for instance, for the first time in
the South, with the noise in our ears of the bells of the mules carrying
merchandise to and from the ships in the Porto; the sudden delight that we had
not felt or realised, weary as we were on the night before, at finding ourselves
really at last in the way of such things, the shouting of the muleteers, the songs
of the sailors getting their ships in gear for the seas, the blaze of sunlight, the
pleasant heat, the sense of everlasting summer. These things, and so much
more than these, abide for ever; the splendour of that ancient sea, the gesture
of the everlasting mountains, the calmness, joy, and serenity of the soft sky.
Something like this is what I always feel on coming to that proud city of palaces,
a sort of assurance, a spirit of delight. And in spite of all Tennyson may have
thought to say, for me it is not the North but the South that is bright "and true
and tender." For in the North the sky is seldom seen and is full of clouds, while
here it stretches up to God. And then, the South has been true to all her ancient
faiths and works, to the Catholic religion, for instance, and to agriculture, the old
labour of the corn and the wine and the oil, while we are gone after Luther and
what he leads to, and, forsaking the fields, have taken to minding machines.And so, in some dim way I cannot explain, to come to Italy is like coming home,
as though after a long journey one were to come suddenly upon one's mistress
at a corner of the lane in a shady place.
It is perhaps with some such joy in the heart as this that the fortunate traveller
will come to Genoa the Proud, by the sea, lying on the bosom of the mountains,