I Dropped A Bit Of Bread And Was Stooping To Pick It Up; One
Of Them On Seeing Me Move
Made for it and carried it off at once;
the action was exactly that of one who was saying, "I
Don't
particularly want it myself, but I'm not going to let you have it."
Presently some cacciatori came with a poodle-dog. They explained
to us that though the poodle was "a truly hunting dog," he would
not touch the sparrows, which to do him justice he did not. There
was a tame jay also, like the sparrows going about loose, but, like
them, aware when he was well off.
After dinner we went up to the castle, which I have now visited off
and on for many years, and like always better and better each time
I go there. I know no place comparable to it in its own way. I
know no place so pathetic, and yet so impressive, in its decay. It
is not a ruin - all ruins are frauds - it is only decayed. It is a
kind of Stokesay or Ightham Mote, better preserved than the first,
and less furnished than the second, but on a grander scale than
either, and set in incomparably finer surroundings. The path
towards it passes the church, which has been spoiled. Outside this
there are parts of old Roman columns from some temple, stuck in the
ground; inside are two statues called St. Peter and St. Paul, but
evidently effigies of some magistrates in the Roman times. If the
traveller likes to continue the road past the church for three-
quarters of a mile or so, he will get a fine view of the castle,
and if he goes up to the little chapel of S. Quirico on the top of
the hill on his right hand, he will look down upon it and upon
Arona. We will suppose, however, that he goes straight for the
castle itself; every moment as he approaches it, it will seem finer
and finer; presently he will turn into a vineyard on his left, and
at once begin to climb.
Passing under the old gateway - with its portcullis still ready to
be dropped, if need be, and with the iron plates that sheathe it
pierced with bullets - as at S. Michele, the visitor enters at once
upon a terrace from which the two foregoing illustrations were
taken. I know nothing like this terrace. On a summer's afternoon
and evening it is fully shaded, the sun being behind the castle.
The lake and town below are still in sunlight. This, I think, is
about the best time to see the castle - say from six to eight on a
July evening, or at any hour on a gray day.
Count Borromeo, to whom the castle belongs, allows it to be shown,
and visitors are numerous. There is very little furniture inside
the rooms, and the little there is is decaying; the walls are
covered with pictures, mostly copies, and none of them of any great
merit, but the rooms themselves are lovely.
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