Part 1 (2/2)

Yes, he began with our first strokes, our ”pot-hooks and hangers,” our two-and-twoonus our lessons, the principle of ”a little and often,” so that we had two hours in theand no lessons in the afternoon, only bits of history, poetry, the collect for the Sunday and dialogues in divers languages to learn overnight by heart to be repeated to hiular holidays: a day off occasionally, especially when travelling; and we travelled reat educator He brought us up trelish patriots, but our deepest contentment lay in our Italian life, because we loved the sun--all of us

So we oscillated between our Ligurian Riviera and the ho at a tihter by his first wife had married, at seventeen, an Italian officer whose fa one of our attractions to the beloved Land That officer later on joined Garibaldi, and was killed at the Battle of the Volturno She never left the country of her adoption, and that bright lure for us re lessons, we ran rather wild after, and, looking back, I only wonder that no illness or accident ever befell us Our dear Swiss nurse was often scandalised at our escapades, but ourboth with an amateur's enthusiasm, allowed us what she considered very salutary freedom after study Still, I don't think she would have liked sos with Genoese peasant children and Surrey ploughboys, had she known of them But, careful as she was of our physical and spiritual health, she trusted us and thought us unique

My oes back to the time when I was just able to walk and elt in a typically English village near Cheltenha hay-ing others not so interested in horses as I already was o_, with vine-covered porch, at Ruta, on the ”saddle” of Porto Fino, that promontory which has been called the ”Queen of the Mediterranean,” where we began our lessons, and, I may say, our worshi+p of Italy

Then comes Villa de' Franchi for two exquisite years, a little nearer Genoa, at Sori, a _palazzo_ of rose-coloured plaster and white stucco, with flights of stone steps through the vineyards right down to the sea

That sea was a joy to me in all its moods We had our lessons in the balcony in the suht -roo the rand” piano brought out into the balcony one fullht Sonata” under those silver bealory, murmured its applause

Often, after the babes were in bed, I cried h the open s, I could heartenor of sos so dear to thechildren of the South It seeainst that tenor Our dear nurse, Amelie, would come to me with les, would also co, becoe, in Kent, found ing about the far friends with those splendid cart-horses which contrasted with thethat su verse about that tiates of Heaven open to the lovely season, And all the meadoeet they lie in peace

We children loved the Kentish beauty of our dear England Poetry filtered into our two little hearts wherever we abode, to blossohtful sister in the process of ti Switzerland on the way this tiiore

A nice couple of children ere soirls found the village people celebrating a _festa_ at Sant' Ilario, high up on the foothills of the mountains behind our house We mixed in the crowd outside, as the church e up the children, ere in swarh the zone of chestnut trees, down through the olive woods, down through the vineyards, down to the little town the throng fled, till, landing the on the evident superior power of the Anglo-Saxon race over the Latin

As tian to show soreat historical subjects for treat et spoilt by celebrity, keeping in mind the fluctuations of popularity I took all this seriously I think that, having no boys to bring up, he tried to put all the tuition suitable to both boys and girls into us One result was that as a child I had the ambition to be a writer as well as a painter We children were fanatically devoted to the worshi+p of Charlotte Bronte, since our father had read us ”Jane Eyre” (with o poetry and prose to divers periodicals and cut our teeth on rejected MSS

We went back to Genoa, _via_ Jersey (as a little _detour_!) Poor old Agostino, our inevitable cook, saw us as we drove froh the Via Carlo Felice Worse luck, for he had becoone by he had done very well and we had not the heart to cast hi our hands as he capered sideways alongside, at the peril of being run over

So ere in for hiain, but it was the last tiostino is dead, thank goodness!” He and our dear nurse, Amelie, used to have the ion, he a devout Catholic and she a Protestant of the true Swiss fibre They always ended by wrangling thehest pitch of their voices into papa's presence for judg thees at all he would still make a fortune out of us by his perquisites; and, indeed, considering we left all purchases in his hands, I don't think she exaggerated The war against Austria had been won Magenta, Solferino, Montebello--dear me, how those na the road in our pinafores near the Zerbino palace, above Genoa, along ca very red and blotchy in the heat, with big, ungloved hands, one of which he raised to his hat in saluting us little ilish with all our ht We were only a _little_ previous (!) Then the next year came the Garibaldi enthusiashly exalted _Garibaldians_ I saw the Liberator the day before he sailed fro in Sicily, at the Villa Spinola, in the grounds of which ere, on a visit at the English consul's He was sitting in a little arbour overlooking the sea, talking to the gardener In the following autumn, when his fame had increased a thousandfold, I made a pen and ink memory sketch of him which my father told h at the ti of the words, hearing one of Garibaldi's adoring comrades (one Colonel Vecchii) a year or two later on exclaim to my father, with hands raised to heaven, ”_Garibaldi!! C'est le Christ le revolver a la main!_”

Our life at old Albaro was resulish colony at Genoa in those days, headed by the very popular consul, ”Monty” Brown, and the nice Church of England chaplain, the Rev Alfred Strettell Ah! those primitive picnics on Porto Fino, when Mr Strettell and our father used to read aloud to the little co our precocious selves, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Keats, Tennyson, under the vines and olives, bethose branches, far below the cultivated terraces which we chose for our repose, appeared the deep blue waters of the Sea of seas My early sketch books are full of incidents in Genoese peasant life: carnival revels in the streets, so suited to the child's idea of fun; charges of Garibaldian cavalry on discomfited Neapolitan troops (the despised _Borbonici_), and waving of tricolours by bellicose patriots I was taken to the Carlo Felice Theatre to see Ristori in ”Maria Stuarda,” and becaht she careen tricolour, and recited to a delirious audience a fine patriotic poeina Ancor!_” I see her now in an i autu minds with beauty Early autue is ”on” and the golden Indian corn is stored in the open loggias of the farst the flower pots and all the hos The following spring was clouded by our return to England and London in particularly cold and foggy weather, dark with the London smoke, and our temporary installation in a dismal abode hastily hired for us by our mother's father, where we could be close to his pretty little dwelling at Fulhaun there Poor little ”Mi Albaro at that time are spotted with the mementos of her tears The journey itself was a distraction, for we returned by the long Cornice Route which then was followed by the _Malle Poste_ and Diligence, the railway being only in course of construction It was very interesting to go in that fashi+on, especially toof our teaes” with the intensest zest I made little sketches whenever halts allowed, and, as usual, encemost of the tihtful in its way I have not long returned fro very luxurious and up-to-date, but the local sentiment is lessened The reason is obvious, and has been laboured enough One can still go off the beaten paths and find the true Italy I have found one funny little sketch showing our _Malle Poste_ stopping to pick up thehanded out of a top , at night, by the old postmistress The _Malle Poste_ evidently went ”like the wind,” for I invariably show the horses at a gallop all along the route

My h that wilderness of slums that ushers us into the Great Metropolis is all chronicled, and, ith one thing and another, the Diary sinks for a while into despondency But not for long I cheer up soon

In London I took in all the a from Italy I seem, by my entries in the Diary, to have been particularly diverted by the colour of those Dundreary whiskers that the English ”swell” of the period affected I constantly come upon ”Saw no end of red whiskers” Then I read, ”Maoodness” Charles dickens, whom I dismiss in this offhand manner, had been a close friend of my father's, and it was he who introducedcoincidence in names!) at an amateur concert where she played The result was rapid My vivid h I never heard it echoed by any other man's till I heard Lord Wolseley's The volunteer , and I became even more enthusiastic over the citizen soldiers than I had been over the _Garibaldini_ Then there are pages and pages filled with descriptions of the pictures at the Royal Acade nearly every bird, beast, reptile and fish Las and the cold of that dreadful London April and May, and untiring outbursts in verse of regret for my lost Italy But I stuffed my sketch books with British volunteers in every conceivable uniform, each corps dressed after its own taste There was a very short-lived corps called the Six-foot Guards! I sent a design for a uniform to the _Illustrated London Nehich was returned with thanks I felt hurt

Grandpapa attached hih storhts Well, _Punch_ ood men and true, but I have lived to know that the ”Territorials,” as they ca century to lend their strong ar the nation We next had a breezy and refreshi+ng experience of Hastings and the joy of rides on the doith the ridingand smoke were blown off us by the briny breezes

CHAPTER II

EARLY YOUTH

In Decerated back to London, and shortly before Christmas our dear, faithful nurse died That was Alice's and o over those dreadful days Our father told us ould never forgive ourselves if we did not take our last look at her He said ere very young for looking on death, but ”go, ht” I cannot read those heartbroken words hich I fill page after page of my Diary even noithout tears She had at first intended to reland, shortly afterI smiled at her froht her back irresistibly, and with us she rerew apace we had a Parisian mistress to try and parisianise our Swiss French and an Italian master to try and tuscanise our Genoese Italian, and every Saturday a certain Mr Standish gave me two hours'