Little Rivers [45]
of taking part not only with the voice, but also with the
heart, in the worship.
Then followed the public unveiling of a tablet, on the wall of the
little Inn of the Anchor, to the memory of Giammaria Ghedini, the
founder of the art-schools of Cortina. There was music by the
band; and an oration by a native Demosthenes (who spoke in Italian
so fluent that it ran through one's senses like water through a
sluice, leaving nothing behind), and an original Canto sung by the
village choir, with a general chorus, in which they called upon the
various mountains to "re-echo the name of the beloved master John-
Mary as a model of modesty and true merit," and wound up with--
"Hurrah for John-Mary! Hurrah for his art!
Hurrah for all teachers as skilful as he!
Hurrah for us all, who have now taken part
In singing together in do . . re . . mi."
It was very primitive, and I do not suppose that the celebration
was even mentioned in the newspapers of the great world; but, after
all, has not the man who wins such a triumph as this in the hearts
of his own people, for whom he has made labour beautiful with the
charm of art, deserved better of fame than many a crowned monarch
or conquering warrior? We should be wiser if we gave less glory to
the men who have been successful in forcing their fellow-men to
die, and more glory to the men who have been successful in teaching
their fellow-men how to live.
But the Festa of Cortina did not remain all day on this high moral
plane. In the afternoon came what our landlady called "allerlei
Dummheiten." There was a grand lottery for the benefit of the
Volunteer Fire Department. The high officials sat up in a green
wooden booth in the middle of the square, and called out the
numbers and distributed the prizes. Then there was a greased pole
with various articles of an attractive character tied to a large
hoop at the top--silk aprons, and a green jacket, and bottles of
wine, and half a smoked pig, and a coil of rope, and a purse.
The gallant firemen voluntarily climbed up the pole as far as
they could, one after another, and then involuntarily slid down
again exhausted, each one wiping off a little more of the grease,
until at last the lucky one came who profited by his forerunners'
labours, and struggled to the top to snatch the smoked pig.
After that it was easy.
Such is success in this unequal world; the man who wipes off the
grease seldom gets the prize.
Then followed various games, with tubs of water; and coins fastened
to the bottom of a huge black frying-pan, to be plucked off with
the lips; and pots of flour to be broken with sticks; so that the
young lads of the village were ducked and blackened and powdered to
an unlimited extent, amid the hilarious applause of the spectators.
In the evening there was more music, and the peasants danced in the
square, the women quietly and rather heavily, but the men with
amazing agility, slapping the soles of their shoes with their
hands, or turning cartwheels in front of their partners. At dark
the festivities closed with a display of fireworks; there were
rockets and bombs and pin-wheels; and the boys had tiny red and
blue lights which they held until their fingers were burned, just
as boys do in America; and there was a general hush of wonder as a
particularly brilliant rocket swished into the dark sky; and when
it burst into a rain of serpents, the crowd breathed out its
delight in a long-drawn "Ah-h-h-h!" just as the crowd does
everywhere. We might easily have imagined ourselves at a Fourth of
July celebration in Vermont, if it had not been for the costumes.
The men of the Ampezzo Valley have kept but little that is peculiar
in their dress. Men are naturally more progressive than women, and
therefore less picturesque. The tide of fashion has swept them
into the international monotony of coat and vest and trousers--
heart, in the worship.
Then followed the public unveiling of a tablet, on the wall of the
little Inn of the Anchor, to the memory of Giammaria Ghedini, the
founder of the art-schools of Cortina. There was music by the
band; and an oration by a native Demosthenes (who spoke in Italian
so fluent that it ran through one's senses like water through a
sluice, leaving nothing behind), and an original Canto sung by the
village choir, with a general chorus, in which they called upon the
various mountains to "re-echo the name of the beloved master John-
Mary as a model of modesty and true merit," and wound up with--
"Hurrah for John-Mary! Hurrah for his art!
Hurrah for all teachers as skilful as he!
Hurrah for us all, who have now taken part
In singing together in do . . re . . mi."
It was very primitive, and I do not suppose that the celebration
was even mentioned in the newspapers of the great world; but, after
all, has not the man who wins such a triumph as this in the hearts
of his own people, for whom he has made labour beautiful with the
charm of art, deserved better of fame than many a crowned monarch
or conquering warrior? We should be wiser if we gave less glory to
the men who have been successful in forcing their fellow-men to
die, and more glory to the men who have been successful in teaching
their fellow-men how to live.
But the Festa of Cortina did not remain all day on this high moral
plane. In the afternoon came what our landlady called "allerlei
Dummheiten." There was a grand lottery for the benefit of the
Volunteer Fire Department. The high officials sat up in a green
wooden booth in the middle of the square, and called out the
numbers and distributed the prizes. Then there was a greased pole
with various articles of an attractive character tied to a large
hoop at the top--silk aprons, and a green jacket, and bottles of
wine, and half a smoked pig, and a coil of rope, and a purse.
The gallant firemen voluntarily climbed up the pole as far as
they could, one after another, and then involuntarily slid down
again exhausted, each one wiping off a little more of the grease,
until at last the lucky one came who profited by his forerunners'
labours, and struggled to the top to snatch the smoked pig.
After that it was easy.
Such is success in this unequal world; the man who wipes off the
grease seldom gets the prize.
Then followed various games, with tubs of water; and coins fastened
to the bottom of a huge black frying-pan, to be plucked off with
the lips; and pots of flour to be broken with sticks; so that the
young lads of the village were ducked and blackened and powdered to
an unlimited extent, amid the hilarious applause of the spectators.
In the evening there was more music, and the peasants danced in the
square, the women quietly and rather heavily, but the men with
amazing agility, slapping the soles of their shoes with their
hands, or turning cartwheels in front of their partners. At dark
the festivities closed with a display of fireworks; there were
rockets and bombs and pin-wheels; and the boys had tiny red and
blue lights which they held until their fingers were burned, just
as boys do in America; and there was a general hush of wonder as a
particularly brilliant rocket swished into the dark sky; and when
it burst into a rain of serpents, the crowd breathed out its
delight in a long-drawn "Ah-h-h-h!" just as the crowd does
everywhere. We might easily have imagined ourselves at a Fourth of
July celebration in Vermont, if it had not been for the costumes.
The men of the Ampezzo Valley have kept but little that is peculiar
in their dress. Men are naturally more progressive than women, and
therefore less picturesque. The tide of fashion has swept them
into the international monotony of coat and vest and trousers--