The Public Laundry Is Always The Gayest Scene In An Italian
Town, And Probably Our Adventures Continued The Subject Of Joyous
Comment Throughout The Day Which Was Now Passing Only Too Rapidly For
Us.
We were again on the way to the Villa Falconieri, and while our
brave horse is valiantly mounting the
Steep to its gate this is perhaps
as good a place as any to own that the Villa Falconieri and the Villa
Man-dragone were the only sights we saw in Frascati. We did, indeed,
penetrate the chill interior of the local cathedral, but as we did not
know at the time that we were sharing it with the memory of the young
Stuart pretender Charles Edward, who died in Frascati, and whose
brother, Cardinal York, placed a mural tablet to him in the church, we
were conscious of no special claim upon our interest. We ought, of
course, to have visited the Villa Aldobrandini and the Villa Ruffinella
and the Villa Graziola and the Villa Taverna, but we left all these to
the reader, who will want some reason for going to Frascati in person,
and to whom I commend them as richly worth crossing the Atlantic for.
Doubtless from a like motive we left the ruins of Tusculum unvisited,
just as at Tivoli we refrained from diverging to Hadrian's Villa - the
two things supremely worthy to be seen in their respective regions. But,
if I had seen only half as much as I saw at Frascati - the Villa
Falconieri, namely - I should feel forever over-enriched by the
experience.
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