When will our Protestantism, or Rationalism, or whatever it may be,
sit as lightly upon ourselves?
CHAPTER X - S. Ambrogio and Neighbourhood
Since the opening of the railway, the old inn where the diligences
and private carriages used to stop has been closed; but I was made,
in a homely way, extremely comfortable at the Scudo di Francia,
kept by Signor Bonaudo and his wife. I stayed here over a
fortnight, during which I made several excursions.
One day I went to San Giorio, as it is always written though San
Giorgio is evidently intended. Here there is a ruined castle,
beautifully placed upon a hill; this castle shows well from the
railway shortly after leaving Bussoleno station, on the right hand
going towards Turin. Having been struck with it, I went by train
to Bussoleno (where there is much that I was unwillingly compelled
to neglect), and walked back to San Giorio. On my way, however, I
saw a patch of Cima-da-Conegliano-looking meadow-land on a hill
some way above me, and on this there rose from among the chestnuts
what looked like a castellated mansion. I thought it well to make
a digression to this, and when I got there, after a lovely walk,
knocked at the door, having been told by peasants that there would
be no difficulty about my taking a look round. The place is called
the Castel Burrello, and is tenanted by an old priest who has
retired hither to end his days. I sent in my card and business by
his servant, and by-and-by he came out to me himself.
"Vous etes Anglais, monsieur?" said he in French.
"Oui, monsieur."
"Vous etes Catholique?"
"Monsieur, je suis de la religion de mes peres."
"Pardon, monsieur, vos ancetres etaient Catholiques jusqu'au temps
de Henri VIII."
"Mais il y a trois cent ans depuis le temps de Henri VIII."
"Eh bien! chacun a ses convictions; vous ne parlez pas contre la
religion?"
"Jamais, jamais, monsieur; j'ai un respect enorme pour l'Eglise
Catholique."
"Monsieur, faites comme chez vous; allez ou vous voulez; vous
trouverez toutes les portes ouvertes. Amusez-vous bien."
He then explained to me that the castle had never been a properly
fortified place, being intended only as a summer residence for the
barons of Bussoleno, who used to resort hither during the extreme
heat, if times were tolerably quiet. After this he left me.
Taking him at his word, I walked all round, but there was only a
shell remaining; the rest of the building had evidently been burnt,
even the wing in which the present proprietor resides being, if I
remember rightly, modernised. The site, however, and the sloping
meadows which the castle crowns, are of extreme beauty.
I now walked down to San Giorio, and found a small inn where I
could get bread, butter, eggs, and good wine. I was waited upon by
a good-natured boy, the son of the landlord, who was accompanied by
a hawk that sat always either upon his hand or shoulder.
