Tuesday, April 12th., Pension White, Florence.
Recital of Monteverdi's "Orfeo" in the Salone della Pergola this afternoon. I shall write an article on it for the Nation. Astonishing that such a beautiful and obviously attractive thing is not given oftener.
Then I took Mrs. Mock and a young woman from Chicago to have aperitifs at a cafe in the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. Much movement and great joy of the women in the sensation of sitting outside a cafe after all these days of rain. This is much better, and more amusing, and incidentally cheaper than having tea in one of those damned English tea houses.
Walking home you could appreciate the calm and easy life of the people: eg. saddlers in their shops, and all the tradesmen, work girls coming out of ateliers etc. No hurry. Very little ambition. Very few conveniences. Many conditions that would be hardships if they were perceived as such. And certainly a great deal more apparent happiness than in England, even if happiness in misery. You are apt to think that Italians don't care about the disadvantages of their condition, and then you see a sign 'Camera di Lavoro' and a number of working men hanging about. I suppose it is the equivalent of the Bourse de Travail.
Flaubert's correspondence is certainly very fine indeed; it is even sensationally fine. I got the first volume from the library, and much prefer it to Ruskin's "Mornings in Florence". Ruskin is just too serious! I don't think the great man would recognise a joke if one fell at his feet and cried to be noticed. No wonder Effie went elsewhere for some joy in life!
I was wondering today whether Florence is in fact a beautiful place, or if we have just come to regard it as such? Is it the association with all things Renaissance that pre-prepares one to 'see' beauty. Of course there are marvellous things to see, statues and such, but is there more intrinsic beauty here than in say London, or even the Five Towns? I am inclined to think that we see beauty where we expect to see it. Some artists of course have the gift of 'seeing' things as they are but most of us do not. I certainly don't most of the time.
Showing posts with label Mock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mock. Show all posts
Thursday, 12 April 2018
Monday, 9 April 2018
Rain in Florence
Saturday, April 9th., Pension White, Florence.
It has been raining for days. Yesterday, to get out of the rain I walked about in the church of S. Croce to collect my ideas for the third part of "Clayhanger". For this purpose I found it to be a very good, spacious church. Funny to be immersed mentally in the doings of the Five Towns in a place like this which couldn't be much more different. I bought a copy of Ruskin's "Mornings in Florence" today. Weather too wet and me too buried in writing for any excursions.
There is a professor from Toronto University staying here. Came into the smoking room last evening. Lounge suit, dirty brown boots, small piercing eyes. Took no notice of me though the room was not twelve foot square until he found he hadn't a match, when he said abruptly, and in a tone which expected only one answer: "Can I trouble you for a match?" This casualness was geberal with him. You could trace it in the way he sat on a chair. Seemed an impatient sort. Then began to talk of Egyptian tombs in a very sensible, interesting and friendly way. When he is not interested it does not occur to him to pretend to be. If a remark does not strike him as fruitful he quite naturally says nothing at all. It is brusqueness, but has a good foundation. I admire it in a way; a sort of intellectual honesty. I am probably similar myself by nature but have had 'good manners' drummed into me over the years. Similar age to me I should think. Somebody told me he is a professor of English literature; but I don't know.
I put on my largest overcoat and walked to the Cascine this morning and this afternoon I went to inspect the Palazzo Strozzi for my article "Night and Morning in Florence", of which I wrote 2,200 words today. I also went into the church of S. Annunziata. We should have been going to the opera this evening but Grierson and Mock are both indisposed.
It has been raining for days. Yesterday, to get out of the rain I walked about in the church of S. Croce to collect my ideas for the third part of "Clayhanger". For this purpose I found it to be a very good, spacious church. Funny to be immersed mentally in the doings of the Five Towns in a place like this which couldn't be much more different. I bought a copy of Ruskin's "Mornings in Florence" today. Weather too wet and me too buried in writing for any excursions.
There is a professor from Toronto University staying here. Came into the smoking room last evening. Lounge suit, dirty brown boots, small piercing eyes. Took no notice of me though the room was not twelve foot square until he found he hadn't a match, when he said abruptly, and in a tone which expected only one answer: "Can I trouble you for a match?" This casualness was geberal with him. You could trace it in the way he sat on a chair. Seemed an impatient sort. Then began to talk of Egyptian tombs in a very sensible, interesting and friendly way. When he is not interested it does not occur to him to pretend to be. If a remark does not strike him as fruitful he quite naturally says nothing at all. It is brusqueness, but has a good foundation. I admire it in a way; a sort of intellectual honesty. I am probably similar myself by nature but have had 'good manners' drummed into me over the years. Similar age to me I should think. Somebody told me he is a professor of English literature; but I don't know.
I put on my largest overcoat and walked to the Cascine this morning and this afternoon I went to inspect the Palazzo Strozzi for my article "Night and Morning in Florence", of which I wrote 2,200 words today. I also went into the church of S. Annunziata. We should have been going to the opera this evening but Grierson and Mock are both indisposed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)