Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1886-08-01


On our way down to Como We met group
of country girls, young and Joyous creatures,
several Of whom were very pretty, and one
decidedly beautiful-far more 50 than any
aristocratic Milanese young lady We have yet
seen All however, would have been more
attractive in the picturesque costume of the
Lomhariy peasant of the better class-a COS
tune now seldom worn except by domestic
servants especially nurses. Ii is occasionally
sssen on the stage. Lucia the heroine of
Il PromeSsi SpoSi,r always wears it in the
opera Of that name. The peculiar part OF il
is the heaidress, which at a distance looks
like halo, and 81. on a laughing, coquettish
girl, a little out of character Ii is formed Of
long, narrow spoon shaped spiiie, or Pins, of
silver, closely woven into and raiiating from
the back hair. A friend of ours who has a
cook conservative enough to cleaye to the old,
old fashion, and sport the silver heir-lonIas
in her silver hair, says that it takes a profess
sional artist to do the weaving-in, and that it
is only done once a week, the poor woman
being Obliged To sleep in her crown Of thorns
OF coursa, she can only repos- on her hack, and
as she is, after the immemorial manner OF
cooks, fat and scant Of breath, natures
sonorous nocturnal remonStrance may be
imagined II must shake that little villa like
an embryo earthquake. IL Is antique, it is
national. this bristling head gear, but an in
stIument of torture and only pretty on a
pretty girl like Manzoui's heroine, the gentle
Lucia, whcse picture | mclose. cannot con-
fdentiy vouch for the facial Likeness Of the
lady, il ever there was such a person. hav-
ing been dead some 30 years-but this is un-
dou6teily the way she dressed.
The romantic and classic associations Of
Lake Como are not the least of its charms.
There WAS Claude Melnotte, You know, and
there was Pliny We have failed to identify
the palace" of Pauline gay deceiver,r the
young market gardener; but there Is a villa
called -Pliniana," after the OLD naturalist, he
having described in his writings certain
mysterious spring, now in its court, whose
waters have tidal ebb and flow, as though
in secret corresl Ondence with the Atlantic
ocean Pliny the younger was born in
Como, and wrote enthusiastically of the
scenery Of this wonderful region; and the
lake-Laclls I.arius-sparkleS with immortal
brightness in the verse of Virgil The old
Romans who, like the monks Of later days,
had an infallible instinct for beautiful and
fruitful spots, reveled in luxurious retirement
on these picturesque shores, much as the
Milanese nobility and gentry do now; but
happier were they, in that no putting and
snorting of Steamboat or locomotive disturbed
their summer siestaS; no Cooks tourists in
vaded their fiowery solitudes.
The other morning We were rowed across
the lake to look at two villas, still especially
interesting TO all artloving visitors-that of
Tnglioni, the queen danseuse Of the world
f,sty years ago, and who. in fact, has had no
real SUCCESSOR, and the more stately home of
Pasta, who probably was the s,-andest dra-
mItic soprano that Italy has yet produced.
Ia 1853 | first saw these two villas, and also
caught glimpSes Of their famous occupants
As our boat paused before Pasta's house,
which is miniature copy of the Scala theatre, q
the scene Of her greatest triurnphs, We saw
the gram singer herself, taking Il stroll on the
terrace She was stately-and more; she wRs
huge, stupendous. And yet she did not appear
bUrdened 10y her flesh, or anything else. Her
face was full of content and pride as she
looked round ON her long, lovely strip of Para
disc, on the garden, the shrubbcry, the sum-
mer bJusCs, the pretty theatre and the rustic
cottages, and bcheld all as the creation of her
genius, in partnership with nature. She
should have lived ON and on in this fairy
realm of song and should have found her
here after these many days And Taglioni
should have been dancing still, floating in and
out among the lights and shadows of her gar
den on the lake. But alas the diva long ago
gathered the white robes of Norma about her
and passed out of mortal sight, and faded into
a tradition as her glorious voice had trembled
away into silence. A while longer the "syl-
phide' huttered on. but at last she too folded