nding new reasons to prolong his _villeggiatura_, despite the
grumbling of his court, which had to put up with wretched inns or
monasteries overrun by mice, where the rain came through the roofs
and the necessaries of life were scanty.[10]

His taste for these beautifully-situated monastic solitudes was a
riddle to those around him. He wrote of his summer residence in
Tibur:

'On all sides round the town in summer there are most lovely
plantations, to which the Pope with his cardinals often retired for
relaxation, sitting sometimes on some green sward beneath the olives,
sometimes in a green meadow on the bank of the river Aino, whence he
could see the clear waters. There are some meadows in a retired glen,
watered by many streams; Pius often rested in these meadows near the
luxuriant streams and the shady trees. He lived at Tibur with the
Minorites on an elevation whence he could see the town and the course
of the Aino as it flowed into the plain beneath him and through the
quiet gardens, nor did anything else give him pleasure.

'When the summer was over, he had his bedroom in the house
overlooking the Aino; from there the most beautiful view was to be
seen, and also from a neighbouring mountain on the other side of the
river, still covered with a green and leafy grove ... he completed a
great part of his journey with the greatest enjoyment.'

In May 1462 he went to the baths at Viterbo, and, old man as he was,
gives this appreciative description of spring beauties by the way:

'The road by which he made for Sorianum was at that time of the year
delightful; there was a tremendous quantity of genista, so that a
great part of the field seemed a mass of flowering yellow, while the
rest, covered as it was by shrubs and various grasses, brought purple
and white and a thousand different colours before the eyes. It was
the month of May, and everything was green. On one side were the
smiling fields, on the other the smiling woods, in which the birds
made sweet harmony. At early dawn he used to walk into the fields to
catch the exquisite breeze before the day should grow hot, and gaze
at the green crops and the flowering flax, which then, emulating
heaven's own blue, gave the greatest joy to all beholders.... Now the
crows are holding vigil, and the ringdoves; and the owl at times
utters lament with funeral note. The place is most lovely; the view
in the direction of Siena stretches as far as Amiata, and in the west
reac