The Agnelli Gardens at Villar Perosa [antikvár]

IntroductionMarella AgnelliThe desire to write the history of the j^nelli gardens at Villar Perosa, near Turin, originated in a conversation that took place several years ago in these same gardens with my niece, Marella Caracciolo, affectionately called Marellina. It was at stmset, on a parricularly mild day in late September. We had just concluded our afternoon walk by going up to the balcony on the second floor of the villa and taking in the familiar shapes of the gardens before darkness fell. Everything was peaceftil and still. The tídy, undulating lawn extended like a great green wave in front of us. From its center, a perfecdy round fotmtain gave off the delicate sotmd of running water. Here and there gigantic shapes of ancient trees stood solemnly like statues: a small group of lindens, a sequoia, a large Araucaria, and a smaller one nearby. A massive Olea fragransXeantá its weight on one corner of the facade, its tiny white flowers releasing their sweetness into the air. Beyond the gardens, on the opposite side of the valley, the contotu-s of the mountains were dissolving and becoming almost transparent, like a huge Japanese screen hanging in the evening light.Urged on by Marellina's curiosity, I told her some stories about the villa and the gardens where we had just taken our walk. Although I was intimate with the trees, the pathsin fact, with nearly every flowerI was less familiar with the history of the place and the people who had lived here before me. So I started recounting what I could, beginning with my arrival at Villar Perosa in 1953.I was newly married and, like Aniceta before me, I was enchanted by Villar. In those years it exuded a timeless aura, as if the entire villa was a sleeping beauty hidden in the woods. It exuded a refined tranquillity that went back to Clara's time. The villa's old servants, who were still a part of daily life, maintained the quiet customs and the slow rhythms of those days. Their easy manner and gende presence had been instilled in them by the senatore in order to preserve his wife's serenity.That evening on the balcony, I recalled the respectful kindness with which my husband and I had been welcomed more than thirty years earher. I was the new Mrs. Agnelli. The servants showed us both such genuine kindness, complemented by the great dignity characteristic of the people who live in the mountains. Agostino Stella, the buder, was waiting for us at the entrance to the great stairway. Though gray haired, he stood erect with an impeccable style that was nearly miUtary in its correctness. Once inside the hall, which was waxed to a perfect shine, Mina was introduced to me. She had been the personal maid of the '^senatrice" as they called Clara Boselli, wife of senatore Giovanni AgneUi. Standing next to Mina was Agnese, the maid in charge of the house linens. Agnese was the wife of the person who plays an important part in our storythe head gardener, Gaetano Aloisio.