VILLA FALCONIERIT, 
FRASCATI. 
HIS is the oldest of the villas of Frascati, 
and was erected for Alessandro Rufini, 
Bishop of Melfi, in 1548. In_ the 
seventeenth century it passed to the 
Falconieri family, who confided its restoration 
and redecoration to Francesco Borromini, the 
most florid of all the baroque artists. The grounds 
are small, but there are several very picturesque 
gateways, and the loggia and interior are 
frescoed by Ciro Ferri, the artist who, in company 
with Pietro di Cortona, decorated the Pitti Palace 
in’ Florence. The ceiling of the great hall 
represents Aurora in her car, beyond is a room 
with a fountain in the middle, and the farthest 
room is painted like a grove, with little cupids 
flying among the branches and holding garlands 
of flowers; round three sides of this room is an 
open gallery, from which there is a beautiful view 
over the campagna, “that palimpsest which all 
the world comes to read.” In some of the rooms 
are caricatures painted by desire of Orazio Fal- 
conieri, a former proprietor, representing prelates 
and nobles of his acquaintance, with his own 
portrait in the midst. The villa, which for a 
long time was occupied by the German novelist 
Count Voss, is now the property of the monks 
of Tre Fontane, who migrate there in June to 
escape the heat and malaria of the plain. Earlier 
in the year their abbot 1s extremely kind and 
courteous in granting permission to visit and 
sketch the grounds. 
The Trappist Fathers have made a new 
entrance, but the old gateway, which is farther 
down the hill, is very fine, and 1s the work of 
Vignola. It is still surmounted by the Falcon 
of the extinct Falconieri family. A large branch 
of an immense old oak has grown th:ough the 
gate, forming a curious and picturesque arch. 
The oldest gateway has fine pillars with the dogs 
of the Rufini on either side, and an imposing 
baroque structure is illustrated. 
The most conspicuous feature of the grounds 
is the Hall of Cypresses—‘t A stupendous sylvan 
hall, walled in by cypresses standing as close as 
they could grow in a long parallelogram overarched 
by the sky. Behind the cypresses the forest shut 
densely, but no bough or twig of lighter foliage 
introduced itself into that solemn company, ranged 
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in solid files on all four sides. A broad walk of 
dark gravel surrounded the hall, within which stood 
a second parallelogram the same shape as the first. 
In its centre was a low border of black rocks 
encircling a pond or fountain basin of water equally 
black. Above a heap of rocks in the centre of 
the basin danced the tiniest imp of a jet. : 
At the head of this long hall a dark stone was 
placed like a seat, and there were two others to 
right and left of either side of the basin. Every- 
thing was regular in design if irregular in finish. 
The whole seemed to be a more intelligent growth 
of rock and tree, as if self-arranged for some secret 
design. It was a judgment hall, one would have 
said, and those stern, swathed cypresses were the 
judges, met to pronounce a doom from which 
there could be no appeal.” 
Antiquarians are divided as to whether Cicero’s 
villa stood on the present site of Villa Falconieri 
or of the adjoining Villa Ruffinella. This last 
was at one time the residence of Lucien Bonaparte. 
the only one of the Emperor’s brothers who never 
wore a crown. During his residence here, in 
1818, it was the scene of one of the most 
audacious acts of brigandage ever committed in 
the Papal States. A party of robbers, who had 
long haunted Tusculum, seized the old priest of 
the family while out walking, and, having plundered 
and stripped him, bound him hand and foot. When 
the dinner-hour arrived, and the priest was missing, 
the household came out to look for him, and the 
robbers entered, and, attacking all the servants left, 
forced them to silence by threats. One maid-servant, 
however, contrived to evade notice, and carried 
warning to the family, who were at dinner, and 
who all had time to hide except the Prince’s secre- 
tary, the butler, and a facchino. In the meantime 
the old priest had contrived to escape. 
The next day the facchino was sent back to 
treat with the Prince, and to say that unless he sent 
a ransom of 4,000 crowns the prisoners would all 
be put to death. He sent 2,000, and an order on 
his banker for the remainder. This, however, 
enraged the brigands, who regarded it as a trap, 
and they returned the order, torn up, with a demand 
for 4,000 crowns more; and with this the Prince 
was forced to comply in order to save the lives of 
his attendants. The brigands were never caught. 
