COLUMBUS LOOKS OUT THROUGH HIS DOORWAY TO FAME From a tall pedestal of marble in the Piazza Aquaverde, the figure of the Discoverer gazes over the harbor whence he took to the life of the sea. Columbus leans upon an anchor, while at his feet sits a female figure representing America. The statue was erected in 1862, almost exactly 400 years after the future "Great Admiral of the Seas" began from Genoa his first voyage as a sailor. statesman, Mazzini; the incomparable explorers, Marco Polo and Columbus; and sundry heroes of the Crusades. In a glass case rest the violin and bow of the world's master violinist, Paganini. At an end of the council chamber, carved from one piece of marble, stands a tall pedestal surmounted by a bust of Columbus. A recess has been cut into the pedestal and fitted with an ornamental bronze door. This a custodian unlocked and took from their marble resting place Genoa's most precious documents: three letters written by the hand of Christopher Columbus and signed with his curious signature, and a parchment book containing copies of the documents through which various privileges and titles were conferred upon him by Ferdinand and Isabella. COLUMBUS OFFERED REVENUES FROM THE NEW WORLD TO HIS BELOVED GENOA All the letters were written from Seville to Genoa, two in 1502, as the Great Navigator was preparing for his fourth and last voyage, and one in 1504, after his return from the New World. Two are to Nicolo Oderigo, an important citizen of Genoa, who served as ambassador from the Republic to the Spanish court. That of March 21, 1502, tells of sending his book of privileges for safe-keeping. A letter written less than two weeks later, "To the very Noble Gentlemen of the very Magnificent Office of San Giorgio in Genoa" (the famous bank), offers onetenth of his income in trust for the benefit of Genoese citizens. The letter of 1504, to Nicolo Oderigo, deplores the supposed failure of the officers of San Giorgio to answer the letter offering this gift to his native city. The letters are framed now and protected by glass. This was not always so, as the missing lower corner of one of the documents shows. This fragment, the custodian told me, was torn off years ago by a tourist who had been courteously permitted to examine the letter-one of that inexplicable breed of vandals, the soulless souvenir-hunter, to whom ethics apparently are beside the point. He added the nationality of the individual, and I had a rather guilty feeling of relief that it was not one of my countrymen. No glass protects the book in which the privileges and titles are set forth. It is bound in tooled leather and its thick parchment sheets are beautifully illuminated. The volume is in surprisingly good condition, showing little of the ravages of time. The wear and tear has fallen, instead, on the original old case of leather in which the book has been kept. NARROW STREETS TEEM WITH TRAFFIC The watchful curator of Genoa's Columbiana took his treasures as soon as I had examined them and locked them again in their queer place of safe-keeping. Then I was turned over to an obliging official, who was to take me to the house of Columbus. We walked through narrow, winding streets, teeming with an intimate mixture of wheeled traffic and pedestrians. Some of these ways had narrow sidewalks, from which the pedestrians, including ourselves, spilled over at intervals. Others had no curbs, and we must needs compete for space with taxis, open "cabs," and laden carts. Still other ways were mere crevasses between old five- and sixstoried tenement houses, vicos, far too narrow for wheeled vehicles. Suddenly we left these congested streets and came out into the Piazza De Ferrari, the largest of the open spaces within Genoa's business sections. One side of the square is lined with the buildings of Old Genoa, the walls of palaces for the most part; but on the opposite side a Newer Genoa stands forth-the Teatro Carlo Felice, the Academy of Belle Arts, the new Bourse, the Post Office. These fine structures are relatively new and form the portal to the Via Venti Settembre, which is itself lined with substantial business buildings of recent construction. When this era of new construction was under way many ancient buildings were demolished. Part of the ground so obtained was used as sites for the new structures and part was left vacant and added to the piazza. One of the blocks of closely packed buildings marked for destruction contained the house of Columbus. The identity of this edifice had long been lost, but became known in 1885, after which the property was purchased by the municipality and set aside as a monument. The house originally had five stories, but was only one room in width. It was hemmed in between taller buildings and AN ORNAMENT OF THE LAW IN SUNDAY UNIFORM The gentleman at the left, known officially as a guardian, is not quite CUSTOMS OFFICIALS OF GENOA The feather is a favorite finishing touch to the headpieces of Italian LIONS GUARD THE CATHEDRAL OF SAN LORENZO Photograph by Emil P. Albrecht THE WORLD'S FIRST WALL STREET (SEE PAGE 344) A wing of the Palazzo di San Giorgio, which housed the famous Bank FLOWER MERCHANTS IN MODERN GENOA'S PRINCIPAL SQUARE The Piazza De Ferrari is the heart of Genoa to-day. About it are grouped the Theater of Carlo Felice, the Academy of Fine Arts, the Exchange, and the Post Office. From it leads the Via Venti Settembre (20th of September Street), the city's most important modern business thoroughfare (see text, pages 333 and 337). was in part supported by these neighboring edifices. When this group was torn down the entire house of Columbus could not be left unsupported, so the upper three stories were removed. The two lower stories, roofed over, now stand isolated, an approximate cube of rough masonry-a sort of Genoese Kaaba and, like that sacred Meccan shrine, a center of world interest, if not of pilgrimage (see page 345). My conductor opened the old wooden door with a huge iron key and we stepped inside. Immediately a crowd of passersby, attracted by the unusual opening of the place, gathered about the doorway and clamored to be admitted. Their actions spoke well for Genoese discipline. Not a foot crossed the unbarred threshold; and when the official in charge of our little party of three explained that they could not enter, but might look inside a few moments, they took his decision with good grace. When he closed the door we found our |