Back Italian Hours
Chapters (26)
  1. Feature
  2. PREFACE
  3. VENICE
  4. THE GRAND CANAL
  5. VENICE: AN EARLY IMPRESSION
  6. TWO OLD HOUSES AND THREE YOUNG WOMEN
  7. CASA ALVISI
  8. FROM CHAMBÉRY TO MILAN
  9. THE OLD SAINT-GOTHARD LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK
  10. ITALY REVISITED
  11. A ROMAN HOLIDAY
  12. ROMAN RIDES
  13. ROMAN NEIGHBOURHOODS
  14. THE AFTER-SEASON IN ROME
  15. FROM A ROMAN NOTE-BOOK
  16. A FEW OTHER ROMAN NEIGHBOURHOODS
  17. A CHAIN OF CITIES
  18. SIENA EARLY AND LATE
  19. THE AUTUMN IN FLORENCE
  20. FLORENTINE NOTES
  21. TUSCAN CITIES
  22. OTHER TUSCAN CITIES
  23. RAVENNA
  24. THE SAINT'S AFTERNOON AND OTHERS
  25. You are reading a Deluxe Edition:
  26. Copyright

hours there yesterday with R. W. E. Yet he, illustrious and enviable man, fresh from the East, had no overcoat and wanted none. Perfect bliss, I think, would be to live in Rome without thinking of overcoats. The Vatican seems very familiar, but strangely smaller than of old. I never lost the sense before of confusing vastness. Sancta simplicitas! All my old friends however stand there in undimmed radiance, keeping most of them their old pledges. I am perhaps more struck now with the enormous amount of padding - the number of third-rate, fourth-rate things that weary the eye desirous to approach freshly the twenty and thirty best. In spite of the padding there are dozens of treasures that one passes regretfully; but the impression of the whole place is the great thing - the feeling that through these solemn vistas flows the source of an incalculable part of our present conception of Beauty.

April 10th. - Last night, in the rain, to the Teatro Valle

to see a comedy of Goldoni in Venetian dialect - "I Quattro Rustighi." I could but half follow it; enough, however, to be sure that, for all its humanity of irony, it wasn't so good as Molière. The acting was capital - broad, free and natural; the play of talk easier even than life itself; but, like all the Italian acting I have seen, it was wanting in finesse, that shade of the shade by which, and by which alone, one really knows art. I contrasted the affair with the evening in December last that I walked over (also in the rain) to the Odeon and saw the "Plaideurs" and the "Malade lmaginaire." There, too, was hardly more than a handful of spectators; but what rich, ripe, fully representational and above all intellectual comedy, and what polished, educated playing! These Venetians in particular, however, have a marvellous entrain of their own; they seem even less than the French to recite. In some of the women - ugly, with red hands and shabby dresses - an extraordinary gift of natural utterance, of seeming to invent joyously as they go.

Later. - Last evening in H.'s box at the Apollo to hear