disinterested and impersonal fashion. Their attitude towards religious
matters strikes me as peculiarly Horatian; it is not active scepticism,
but rather a bland tolerance or what one of them described as
"indifferentismo"--submission to acts of worship and all other usages
(whatever they may be) consecrated by time: the _pietas--_the
conservative, law-abiding Roman spirit. And if you walk towards sunset
along any of the roads leading into the country, you will meet the
peasants riding home from their field labours accompanied by their dogs,
pigs and goats; and among them you will recognize many types of Roman
physiognomies--faces of orators and statesmen--familiar from old coins.
About a third of the population are of the dark-fair complexion, with
blue or green eyes. But the women are not handsome, although the town
derives its name from Benoth (Venus). Some genuine Roman families have
continued to exist to this day, such as that of Cenna (Cinna). One of
them was the author of the chronicle above referred to; and there is an
antique bas-relief worked into the walls of the Trinita abbey, depicting
some earlier members of this local family.

One is astonished how large a literature has grown up around this small
place--but indeed, the number of monographs dealing with every one of
these little Italian towns is a ceaseless source of surprise. Look below
the surface and you will find, in all of them, an undercurrent of keen
spirituality--a nucleus of half a dozen widely read and thoughtful men,
who foster the best traditions of the mind. You will not find them in
the town council or at the cafe. No newspapers commend their labours, no
millionaires or learned societies come to their assistance, and though
typography is cheap in this country, they often stint themselves of the
necessities of life in order to produce these treatises of calm
research. There is a deep gulf, here, between the mundane and the
intellectual life. These men are retiring in their habits; and one