Sette Castelli

"«The seven castles are only ruined fortresses now, but in them, in ancient times, Venetian barons dwelt. The road skirts the shore and is dotted with a succession of charming hamlets, each clustered about the feet of its own hoary stronghold, once the home of the over-lord, to whom it owed absolute allegiance».

«The land here is very fertile; the riviera is noted for its balmy climate. The great rocks and crags of the bare Cabani mountains rise like a wall behind the green fields and smiling orchards, shutting out the dread Bora. The dark green of the tall firs, the flaming colors of blossoming pomegranate trees, and the greenish-gray of olive groves, combine to form a picture which reminds you of Italy. The Mediterranean itself is not more blue than the water of the Canelli. Everything was so beautiful, all my silly forebodings vanished, as I looked at the sparkling waves, dancing in the sunshine, and found delight in the old road with its chain of smiling villages nestled at the feet of ruined castles. I felt so happy I laughed at everything, and was just like my old self again. My high spirits were contagious, for John, too, began to laugh and joke, and even the sober-sided old man driving our forlorn nags, perked up and tried to talk to us in his Croatian gibberish».

«Herr Pjisic at the hotel told John about these feudal barons. He says they were regular old tyrants, petty kings, who had unlimited power over the people, and bamboozled and lorded it over them till the poor, helpless villagers were nothing but serfs. At night, when the gates were locked, the head man in the village had to bring his baron the keys. All the oil-mills belonged to the lord, and he claimed a tenth of all the oil, whether one of his mills was used or not. These old padrones were monopolists of the worst kind. Every one had to have a license from him, to buy or sell. He could make his tenants sell him their goods for one-tenth their value, and then he would turn round and sell again at the proper figure. The tongues of all oxen slaughtered, and the heads of pigs, belonged to the lord of the castle. Worst of all, in time of drought, he securely closed all wells and not a drop of water could be drawn until he chose to uncover them. There was some good in the old rapscallions, after all; for Herr Phthisic, as I call him, told John there were laws forcing villagers to keep their homes clean, and there was a fine for throwing slops out of the windows!»" (pp. 195-197).