Vol. VI No. 1 - Modernist Magazines Project

LETTERS FROM ABROAD.
PEAR BERMONDSEY BOOK,
ROME, November
WE are still talking of the exceptionally hot dry summer we have
had; even 6,000 feet up in the Dolomites where we spent August,
people had to wear the thinnest of clothes, so you can imagine
what those suffered who had to remain in the towns on the plains.
We came down from our heights in time for the great music festival at Siena,
but about this you will have read in all the English papers. Siena was a
marvellous background for the festival, delighting all who saw it, whether for
the first time or for the hundredth. An extra Palio was run for the occasion
and as the beautiful mediaeval clothes were newly and especially woven for
this year, the scene was more than ever magnificent. The wide Piazza, during
the race, looked as if a picture from the museum had come to life.
The unusual heat made a gap in many activities not political ones though,
as Mussolini never rests from work, or rather, takes his rest by living like an
ascetic, eating very little, drinking no wine, and going early to bed. A most
useful innovation, due to his tireless thought for the country, is the way in
which the problem of the roads is to be treated. An entire army of workmen
has been formed ready to start work on the anniversary of the creation of
Fascism on miles and miles of roads that are to be re-made, a much needed
reform, as all who have bumped up and down some of the dust-covered ways
will agree.
It often seems to me that here the pulse of life, owing to the climate and to
the fact that, though Rome is the capital, there are other centres of art,
literature and business as well, is inclined to move from a winter to a summer
centre, Rome, Naples, Florence, and even Milan to a certain extent, have
their quiet time when Venice, a town that sleeps through the winter, wakes
•with the first breath of summer to a vivid life. The force of life does not
drag one, as in England, always one way—to London—but throws one like a
ball on the waters of a many coloured fountain, here and there, uncertain
where the brightest colour and the strongest jet of water will hold one.
This summer and autumn Venice has been more than ever gay with
festivals; the most successful of these was the one, where all the different
costumes of the various regions of Italy—north and south—were represented,
worn by pretty women of each place. Every encouragement is given to keep
these decorative garments from falling into disuse, and through prizes that
are offered and, let us hope, also, because of a natural desire to look pretty,
there is a revival in wearing the dresses that had given place to the universal
short skirt and cloche hat. The Venetian women are learning to be once
more proud of their black shawls, and in the Dolomites so charming is the
dress of the peasants, that most of the girl visitors buy a gay flowerpatterned
frock with coloured aprons and handkerchief.
Venice faced her autumn solemnly vand grandly with a great ceremony in
honour of the fourth centenary of the birth of Paolo Veronese. Ugo Ojetti
gave an oration in honour of the great painter in the Ducal Palace in the
presence of the Crown Prince. Those invited to the ceremony were also asked
to visit Villa Giacomelli-Maser, near Treviso where, though few people know
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