The Vintner's Festival in Italy. 



49 



chus after subduing India, show that 

 this festival was the ancient proto- 

 type of the modern procession of the 

 vintage. 



The season of the vendeinmia is one 

 of great gaiety and license — a sort of 

 saturnalia, where the tongue wags as 

 it likes — and all sorts of liberties are 

 taken without offense. 



AVhen 'Liber Pater' gives us good 

 wine, ^2)er Bacco!' shall we not be gixj ? 

 The season is come — the grapes strain 

 their ripe purple skins with wine — 

 they have drunk in the sunshine of 

 all the summer— they hang in trans- 

 parent clusters on the rustic vines, 

 seed swimming in rich juice — and the 

 time to pluck them "has come. They 

 must not be too luscious in their ripe- 

 nes, or our wine will lack its flavour. 

 So, to the vintage — and, Viva la ven- 

 demmia. 



In we go among the vines There 

 are scores of picturesque peasants 

 plucking grapes, with laughter and 

 jest, and heaping them into deep bas- 

 kets, till their purple bunches loll over 

 the edge, moist with juice. Some 

 are mounted on ladders to reach the 

 highest — some on foot below gather- 

 ing the lowest — and the heavy lus- 

 cious baskets, as soon as the}' are 

 filled, arc borne off on the head to a 

 great basket wain, into which they 

 are all tumbled together. The very 

 oxen themselves seem to enjoy it, as 

 they stand there among the vines, de- 

 corated with ribbons, and waiting to 

 bear home their .sunny freight of 

 grapes. The dogs bark, the girls slip 

 out of the arm of the swains, who 

 threaten them with a kiss. Stalwart 

 creatures they are too, and able enough 

 to guard ihcniselves; amd the smack 



of their hand on his cheek or back I 

 willingly yield to him, though he takes 

 the practical reproof with a goodna- 

 tured laugh, and is ready to try his 

 luck again when a chance offers. 



When the last butt is filled, the vin- 

 tage procession takes place. This 

 ceremony, in which the classical and 

 modern are sometimes ludicrously 

 mingled together, is always amusing 

 and picturesque. If 3-ou would really 

 see it in its perfection, you must go 

 iato the mountain towns, far from the 

 city, for old customs are sadly dying 

 out in the highway of travel, and the 

 last fifty j-ears have done more to ob- 

 literate the traces of classical customs 

 in modern Italy, than previous cen- 

 turies had been able to effect. 



The procession is led off b}' the 

 handsomest contadino, who is chosen 

 on the occasion by his comrades to 

 represent Bachus- He is crowned 

 with iv}^ and vineleaves, mixed with 

 grapes, and carries in his hand a thyr- 

 sus twined with flowers, leaves and 

 ivy, and tipped with a pine cone as in 

 the ancient days. Instead of pan- 

 ther's or leopard's hide, a fresh, well- 

 dressed sheepskin, stained with wine 

 to represent its spotted skin, is swung 

 from his shoulder After him come 

 groups of women, clad in their richest 

 costumes, bearing on their heads bas- 

 kets of grapes, and boys can-ying 

 clusters of grapes in their hands. 

 Bacchante and Lena; waving cane 

 poles entwined with vino sprays, or 

 beating their ringing tambourines, 

 their guitars or mandolines, and pum- 

 ping their accordeons, flock all around 

 him. Then come great carri, richly 

 adorned with bright colors, leaves 

 and floAvers, tugged along by creamy 



