re touched with a peculiar feeling. Single
picturesque glimpses charm him, too, like the little promontory of Capo
di Monte that stretches out into the Lake of Bolsena. "Rocky steps," we
read, "shaded by vines, descend to the water's edge, where the evergreen
oaks stand between the cliffs, alive with the song of thrushes." On the
path round the Lake of Nemi, beneath the chestnuts and fruit-trees, he
feels that here, if anywhere, a poet's soul must awake--here in the
hiding-place of Diana! He often held consistories or received
ambassadors under huge old chestnut-trees, or beneath the olives on the
greensward by some gurgling spring. A view like that of a narrowing
gorge, with a bridge arched boldly over it, awakens at once his artistic
sense. Even the smallest details give him delight through something
beautiful, or perfect, or characteristic in them--the blue fields of
waving flax, the yellow gorge which covers the hills, even tangled
thickets, or single trees, or springs, which seem to him like wonders of
nature.

The height of his enthusiasm for natural beauty was reached during his
stay on Monte Amiata, in the summer of 1462, when plague and heat made
the lowlands uninhabitable. Half way up the mountain, in the old Lombard
monastery of San Salvatore, he and his court took up their quarters.
There, between the chestnuts which clothe the steep declivity, the eye
may wander over all Southern Tuscany, with the towers of Siena in the
distance. The ascent of the highest peak he left to his companions, who
were joined by the Venetian envoy; they found at the top two vast blocks
of stone one upon the other--perhaps the sacrificial altar of a
prehistorical people--and fancied that in the far distance they saw
Corsica and Sardinia rising above the sea.

In the cool air of the hills, among the old oaks and chestnuts, on the
green meadows where there were no thorns to wound the feet and no snakes
or insects to hurt or to annoy, the Pope passed days of unclouded
happiness. For the _segnatura_, which took place on certain days of the
week, he selected on each occasion some new shady retreat "_novas in
convallibus fontes et novas inveniens umbras, quae dubiam jacerent
electionem_." At such times the dogs would perhaps start a great stag
from his lair, who, after defending himself a while with hoofs and
antlers, would fly at last up the mountain. In the evening the Pope was
accustomed to sit before the monastery on the spot from w