" This,
indeed, is the true Italy, the Italy of which all poets of all time have
sung; and whose likeness all artists have sought to draw, and sought in
vain. The sight, however, of this wondrous beauty was not new to me who
write; still less is its record new to you who read. With this much of
tribute let it pass unnoticed. Fortunately, it was my lot to see the
promised land of Italy as for centuries past she has not been seen. I
saw her free, and rejoicing in her freedom. Then let me seek to recall
such of the epochs in that right royal progress--when the chosen King
came to take possession of his promised land--as stand most clearly
forth.
I remember once seeing a collection of Indian portraits. There were
rajahs and dervishes, jugglers and dancing-girls, depicted in every
variety of garb and posture. For the whole set, however, there was but
one face. Each portrait had a hole where the face should have been, and
the picture was completed by placing the one head beneath the blank
opening. In fact, you had one face beneath a hundred different
draperies. So also, in my wanderings, I saw but one picture in a dozen
frames; one sight in many cities. At some, the flags may have waved more
gaily; at some again the lamps may have sparkled more brilliantly, and at
others the crowd may have cheered more lustily; but the substance of the
sight was the same throughout.
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