University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 19

Turin

My Dearest Mother: Another long, hot railroad journey only rendered tolerable by the good humor of the members of the party and the kindly services of Mr. B. We have been told this is the cleanest and most modern city in Italy. I am quite sorry as I would have to leave Italia with the flavor of romance unchanged.

After dinner the usual walk, but the shops did not prove so attractive, too modern, you know, and I was quite glad to "turn in." I truly have nothing to write this evening, yet I could not resist the desire to speak with you. We drive tomorrow from nine until twelve and at noon I shall finish this. Our room is so immense and the distance between the beds so great that I am afraid that I shall dream of burglars and ghosts. Good night, mother, the very nicest mother in all the world!

August 4:

In handsome, rubber-tired rigs, behind spirited horses, we have been doing the metropolis of Italy! It is truly a magnificent city, with broad streets, handsome houses, modern monuments and an air of busy activity entirely out of keeping with the country; why, even the river tries to hurry! I cannot say I am charmed. I like its cleanliness, yet it has no allurement for me; perhaps it is ideal for residence. Now, I have been longing for a "clean Italy" and when I find a spot where Sapolio is evidently known, I begin to offer objections. We visited the palace of the Queen-mother[ ]first, and found it more up to date than any we have yet seen, and again I was disappointed at the want of age! The state apartments are gorgeous, yet I prefer the subdued splendor of the semi-private rooms. The pillows of the bed were of cotton. What is the use of being a queen if you cannot have feather pillows! The oratory is such a quiet place, I know the Queen-Mother must find prayer in these very comforting. From the palace to the church, just a short distance, here we viewed the superb casket containing the great religious treasure of Turin, that is the sheet wherein our Lord's body was wrapped when taken from the cross. It is said to bear the visible imprint of his body, and is shown only every hundredth year, and when a prince of the house of Savoy[1] is wedded. The guide informed us that once he had seen it, that the people commenced filing before it at seven o'clock in the morning and at nightfall the crowd was seemingly undiminished!

We drove to Monte dei Cappucini, and made the ascent in a little car, and viewed the city. It was a panorama of clean streets, large houses, winding Po and waving trees. The shops are large and with the air of well-doing that recalls America. Ed did not care for them; said they lacked "local color." A letter from sister was received today. Please tell her that these lengthy letters to you require so much of my time, that I cannot write to her very frequently. I know that she will pardon me. Tell her that these are for her, also. We leave for Geneva this afternoon. I am sorry, indeed, to bid farewell to Italia, and even the thought of the feather pillows and cold, cold water that awaits me in Switzerland cannot reconcile me to this parting.

Ed is calling "all aboard," let me kiss you good bye dear mother, and be off.

Lovingly,

C.