I begin my account of this city with its celebrated cathedral, or
_duomo_, as the Italians call it; for that word has no relation to what
is called a dome in England, but in coming to us, has travelled as far
from its original meaning, as from its original place. The emperor
Joseph the Second reproached the Visconti with having transformed a
mountain of money into a mountain of marble; such a remark from Vienna
is too bad. It is said to have been designed by a German architect, of
the name of Henry of Gamodia or Zamodia, but this does not sound very
much like a German name; and what proof there is even of the existence
of such a person I do not know: the original account of the expenses of
the edifice makes no mention of him. Other authorities (says the _Guide
de l’étranger dans la ville de Milan_) claim the honour for Mario di
Campileone, native of a little village near Lugano. Be that as it may,
the character of the building is rather of the German than of the
Italian Gothic, though some particulars of the latter are
distinguishable.
The present building was founded in 1385, by order of John Galeazzo,
first duke of Milan. He died in 1402, and it is probable that most of
the old work was performed during this interval. The church was not
however consecrated till 1418, when the ceremony was performed by Pope
Martin V. About the middle of the sixteenth century, St. Charles
Borromeo undertook to complete the edifice, and employed Pellegrini to
design a suitable front. This architect is said to have conceived the
idea of so engrafting upon Gothic, the beauties of Grecian architecture,
as to make an harmonious whole out of the discordant materials. If such
were his endeavours, we need not wonder that he did not succeed. A part
only of his design was executed by the direction of Cardinal Frederic
Borromeo, the cousin and successor of St. Charles in the archbishoprick
of Milan; and this part has been suffered to stand, although the
completion of the rest of the façade in a style imitated from the
Gothic, has served to make its utter discordance with the rest of the
building, much more obstrusive. The central column and spire were added
by Brunelleschi, for Philip, the son of John Galeazzo, who reigned from
1412 to 1447. The present front is by a modern architect of the name of
Amati; both having shewn by these additions, their want of skill in
Gothic architecture.
Separating the old work from its injudicious additions, and considering
it only as a portion of an unfinished building, the exterior is very
rich and very beautiful, with its parts well composed and well combined.
The pinnacles rise gracefully from the general line, and are richly
ornamented with subordinate pinnacles and statues; the material is a
white marble, and the workmanship is very good. One may imagine what a
sumptuous edifice it would have been, with two lofty western towers, and
a light and highly decorated lantern in the centre. The Italian
architects indeed have not generally adopted the western towers. The
design below would be more in their usual taste, but in a building of so
intermediate a style, it is difficult to say which was intended.
[Illustration: Illustration of cathedral]
That an architect in Italy, where the pointed style is considered as
unworthy of serious attention, should think, in restoring Gothic
architecture, that he could improve it by approximating its mouldings
and ornaments to those of the Roman, is not wonderful; but it is
remarkable, that abstractedly from their want of suitable character, the
modern ornaments are poorer in design than the ancient, and inferior in
execution. At present, the ancient part of the lantern is surmounted by
a slender steeple, whose outline is that of a column supporting a spire:
this, as I have already said, was added by Brunelleschi; and it is
astonishing, that living so nearly in the time of the Gothic architects,
he should have been so deficient in understanding the character of their
architecture. The front is a mere triangle, and excessively poor. The
artists, among them, have contrived to produce a Gothic building, of
which the outline, when contemplated as a simple mass without the
details, is everywhere displeasing. Another remarkable circumstance is
the want of apparent size. That it does not look very high (although the
head of the figure which crowns the spires is 360 feet from the
pavement,) may perhaps be attributed to its actual magnitude; yet in the
distant view, where the lower part of the building is lost, it does not
suggest the idea of a lofty edifice; and the front, although extending
200 feet, almost looks little. Perhaps this may arise in some degree
from the style of the Italian houses, which are so much larger and
loftier than ours.
The following are the principal dimensions of the building:
Braccia. Eng. Ft.[30] In.
Length internally 248 493 4
Whole width 96 177 3
Length of transept 118
Ditto, including the chapels 146 283 10
Width of transept and of choir 64
Thickness of piers 4
Thickness of walls 4
Height of the nave 78 151 11
Height of First aisles 50
Height of Second aisles 40
Height to the summit of the cupola 112
Height to the top of the lantern 127 247 0
Height to the top of spire and statue 183 356 0
There are fifty-two piers, ninety-eight pinnacles, and inside and out,
four thousand four hundred statues.
Pellegrini’s plan was to place ten Corinthian columns in front; but to
judge from what is done, and from the three stories of windows of
unequal elevation, he could hardly have proposed to unite them in a
simple portico. The mouldings and ornaments were all of Roman
architecture. Of this design, the columns were never erected, but the
five doorways, and as many windows over them, are preserved as parts of
the present composition. Two other windows of this design are concealed
by Gothic tracery. The remainder, which is only just finished, is
imitated from the old work; but the architect, by Grecising the
ornaments, and cutting the upright mouldings, has failed as signally in
the details, as in the general composition.
The first particulars which strike you on passing to the interior, are,
that it is dark and gloomy, and that the leading lines are very much
interrupted by the shrines introduced in the capitals of the piers,
which injure also the apparent solidity of the building. And if you are
told that it is nearly 500 feet long, 180 feet wide, and 150 feet high,
you can hardly believe it. Indeed, as to the last dimension, I still
remain incredulous; for whether I estimate the height by a general
comparison with the other dimensions, or from summing up the estimated
heights of the different parts which compose it, or from counting the
steps which lead to the outside, and measuring some of them, it seems to
me to fall short of 140; and it is necessary to be aware that the side
aisles are 96 feet in height, to be reconciled even to that supposition.
I do not know to what to attribute this want of apparent magnitude: the
height of the side aisles certainly diminishes the appearance of that of
the nave; but the width of the nave is not remarkably great in
proportion to the other dimensions. At Amiens, this is 45 feet 6 inches.
In York, our largest cathedral, it is 47; here it is about 55. In
company with some other English gentlemen, I listened to a sermon there
last Sunday: we did not hear very distinctly, but we probably lost
something from our want of sufficient familiarity with the Italian
language; for the people around us appeared to hear and comprehend, and
they were very silent and attentive; the preacher was an old man, and
the voice did not seem very clear or strong. According to Mr. Saunders,
(Treatise on Theatres) the articulations of an ordinary human voice, are
only heard distinctly to about the distance of eighty feet, and we were
above seventy from the speaker. I had no conception of the distance till
I came to calculate it.
With all these defects however, and with some feeling of disappointment
from having heard so much of this building, it was impossible not to
acknowledge the sublime effect of the interior. The style does not
correspond with any of our English modes of pointed architecture. The
vaulting is simple, without any branching ribs, or any ridge piece; it
is so much supervaulted, that each bay appears to be the portion of a
dome; and the disposition of the materials in concentric circles, or in
portions of such circles, makes me believe that this is nearly the case.
The windows of the clerestory are extremely small and insignificant;
those of the side aisles are long and narrow. They are ornamented with
quatre-foils: but a division of the height into two parts by arched
ribs, which have not precisely the effect of transums, because they do
not cross the window at the same level, indicate a very different period
of taste from that of the rose and quatre-foil heads in France and
England. The lower part of the capitals has something of the running
foliage of the fourteenth century in England; but the shrine work, which
forms their upper part, is perfectly unique; at least, I know nothing
parallel, either in the work itself, or in the manner it is here
introduced. The bases and the plans of the pillars are equally
anomalous, and I think any person would be baffled in attempting to
determine the date from the architecture; only he might safely decide
that it could not be very early. The smallness of the upper windows
produces a gloomy appearance, and oppressive feeling, like that of the
cavern style of architecture in the south of France, with which it has
nothing else in common. The height of 78 feet, which is that of the
lower range of aisles, seems indeed to give plenty of room for the
admission of an ample quantity of light from this part alone, but such a
disposition seldom produces a pleasing effect. There are three fine
large windows in the polygonal end of the choir, but even these are ill
placed, and have little effect. A few days ago I went into the cathedral
late in the evening; there was just light enough to enable me to walk
about without striking the pillars, or running against any other persons
in the church; but not enough to distinguish at any distance, those who
were scattered about on their knees in various parts, or who were
mumbling their prayers, or sleeping on the benches. In a small church
the number of persons thus engaged would have appeared considerable, but
here they hardly seemed to interrupt the solitude of the place. There
was no noise; every one was perfectly silent. A few glimmering lamps
feebly exhibited the altars at which they were placed, but diffused no
general light in the church. In these circumstances the painted windows
lost their colour; they were merely parts of the edifice lighter than
the rest, and served to show that the deep gloom around was that of the
building, and not that of night. What the extent of that building might
be, either in length, breadth, or height, was left to the imagination.
What is it, in such a scene, that so powerfully impresses the mind?
There was no danger; if there had been, the impression might have been
stronger, but it would have ceased to be accompanied with pleasure. Even
without the sentiment of danger, I believe many persons would find the
effect of such circumstances, rather oppressive, than agreeable: for
myself, I am rather exhilarated than depressed by gloom, while a strong
light disturbs and depresses me, and seems inimical both to reflection
and enjoyment.
The roof of this edifice is covered with slabs of marble. It is
everywhere accessible, and is a fine place on which to ramble about
undisturbed, and examine the details of the architecture; or turning our
eyes to more distant objects, to survey the wide extended plain of
fertile Lombardy, and the long continued ridges of the distant Alps.
Even at this distance (near eighty English miles) I never contemplate
the splendid summit of Monte Rosa, without a new impression of its
stupendous magnificence.
The _Guide de l’étranger_ points out many churches besides the cathedral
as deserving notice, and I have made a little tour to such as appeared
from the description, the most interesting; but very few presented any
thing to detain me beyond the first glance. They are not in general
beautiful, either on the inside or the out; but we meet with some happy
effects. As antiquities, most of them have lost their interest by being
modernized, particularly the inside; and this seems to have been done
very much at one period, probably about the time of St. Charles
Borromeo.
[Illustration:
J. Hawksworth Sculp.
STEEPLE OF S^T GOTHARD
_London. Published by J & A. Arch. Cornhill, March 1^{st}. 1828._]
The steeple of St. Gothard, built in 1336, is a curious specimen of that
age; it is of brick, except the little shafts which decorate it, and
these are of stone. The four lower stories appearing above the roof of
the church, are plain octagons, with unequal faces, with a row of
ornamental intersecting arches to each cornice, and a shaft or bead at
each angle, which interrupts all the cornices. There is a little window
in the lowest but one, but it appears to have been broken through at a
later period; the fourth has on each face, a window divided into two
parts by a little column, and each part finishes in a small semicircular
arch. This sort of arrangement occurs in the early architecture of
France, of the eleventh, and perhaps of part of the twelfth century, but
I think not later. In the fifth story, the angular shafts receive their
capitals, and unite with other shafts on the faces of the octagon to
support a series of little arches; but as the angular shafts intersect
the little cornices of each story, and consequently pass beyond the
upright of the plain faces, while the intermediate shafts are within
that line, the latter are broken into two heights, one projecting before
the other. Over this are two stories, rather smaller than those below,
and forming an equal sided octagon; and above all is a spire, cut to
indicate scales or shingles, terminating in a globe, and a little winged
figure supporting a weathercock. I have dwelt more fully on these
details, because they so strongly distinguish the Lombard buildings,
from similar edifices of the same period in France or England; and
because also they shew the necessity of a new system of dates, when we
would determine the epoch of a building by the peculiarities of its
architecture. Though built in the fourteenth century, it exhibits more
of what we call Norman than of the Gothic; and perhaps the Italians
never entirely abandoned that mode of building for any consistent style,
till the restoration of the Roman architecture in the fifteenth century,
under Brunelleschi. There are several steeples at Milan of this sort,
but this is the best. It was highly extolled by contemporary writers;
and it derives some additional interest from having contained the first
clock which ever sounded the hours. In the earliest buildings of this
kind, there are no intersections in the little ornamental arches of the
several cornices: the later the edifices, the more complicated is this
decoration, and in the steeple of St. Gothard, some of them are composed
of four series of interwoven semicircular arches.
[Illustration: Illustrations of arches]
The Milan Guide says, that the church of the Passione is one of the
handsomest in Milan; I found it very large and very ugly. Near to it is
a shabby little church, I know not to whom dedicated, which struck me as
giving the outline of what perhaps, ought to have been the composition
of the cathedral; a large octagonal lantern at the intersection, and at
the west end two towers rising considerably higher than the lantern.
Under every disadvantage, the experiment proves the excellence of such
an arrangement.
In all the churches of Milan, in whatever style, the arches are retained
in both directions by iron bars. One would think it a point of taste
with the Milanese, if that were possible, and indeed the Milan Guide
does speak of it as one of the valuable inventions of modern times. A
large tie-beam, generally gilt, is also seen to the arch which opens
into the choir; and upon the tie-beam a crucifix, and over that a canopy
of crimson silk, or velvet; nothing can be worse in point of taste, but
it is curious, as exhibiting the probable origin of the _rood-lofts_ of
our own cathedrals.
Many of the churches at Milan lay claim to a high antiquity; but as I
have already observed, they have been generally modernized. That of the
Madonna near San Celso, was built towards the close of the fifteenth
century. The architecture has been attributed to Bramante, and to
Solari, a Milanese, while the font is the design of Galeazzo Alessi, who
was not born till about the year 1500. It exhibits no trace of Gothic
architecture; unless it should be contended that the general
distribution of a Christian church, even of the present day, is borrowed
from that style. The entrance is from a court surrounded by arcades,
which has a very elegant appearance. Courts of this sort are said to
have been frequent appendages to the early Basilican churches. It is
surprising that they have not been introduced more frequently, for they
add a dignity to the building, by seeming to separate it from the bustle
of the world; and they rather enhance than diminish the effect of the
architecture, by limiting the point of view. The edifice is of marble,
and both the court and the interior of the church are well proportioned,
and produce a pleasing impression, though the details are bad.
The little church of San Satyro, still exhibits some of the architecture
of the ninth century. It is a mere fragment, of no great interest,
except as it serves to prove that the taste of that period was very much
like that which we call Norman, with capitals more nearly resembling the
ancient Corinthian; but I could not trace any thing of the _Beautems de
Rome_, which is said to characterize this edifice.
The church of St. Eustorgio deserves a passing glance; the outside is of
brick, probably of the thirteenth century, as in 1220 it came into the
possession of the Dominicans; the inside has been modernized, but it
contains some interesting tombs of the Visconti, and of the early
restorers of Greek literature in Italy. Here also they pretend to shew
the marble sarcophagi of the three wise men—kings they are pleased to
call them, who followed the star of our Saviour from the East. An
archbishop is said to have brought the bones from Asia to Milan in the
fourth century; and Frederic Barbarossa in the twelfth, seized and
carried them to Cologne. Prester John, who it seems valued himself on
his descent from these kings, (query from all?) sent here some offerings
to their relics in the fifteenth century, and these have also been
carried to Cologne. The guide-book vouches for the latter part of the
story, though it acknowledges that the bodies or bones of the Magi were
never here; for my part I vouch for nothing, but leave you to accept or
reject what you please.
Next to the cathedral, the most interesting church in Milan is certainly
that of St. Ambrose, or perhaps many might put it in the first place. It
is said to be the very church which that saint closed against Theodosius
after the massacre at Thessalonica, in 390. They even pretend on the
spot, to shew you the identical doors; but the more probable opinion is,
that these doors are of the ninth century, made by order of the
Archbishop Anspert; they are covered with a profusion of carving in
figures and foliage, but the wire-work added to protect them almost
hides the detail. The most ancient part of the building which presents
any character of architecture, is probably of the same period, though
one would not venture to deny that some remains of the original church
of St. Ambrose may still exist. The court in front is acknowledged to be
of the ninth century, and the church exhibits very much of the same
style of art. This court is a parallelogram surrounded by arcades,
having three arches at each end and six on each side. The walls abound
with fragments of inscriptions, and one or two curious tombs are built
up in them, particularly a large rude sarcophagus of Paganus Petrasanta,
captain of the Florentines, who died in 800, and at whose funeral four
cardinals were present. Considerable vestiges of the old painting in
stucco remain on the wall, but the subject is no longer discernible.
This stucco must have covered up the inscriptions, unless indeed they
have been recently inserted. On the side of the court next the church,
is a second story of arches of unequal heights, surmounted with a gable,
the sloping line of which is enriched by little ornamental semicircular
arches, some formed on the sloping line entirely, some with a little
perpendicular appendage, and some
[Illustration: Illustration of arches]
springing on horizontal lines; nor need you be surprised at this
diversity, since a similar irregularity of disposition has been observed
in the modillions and dentils of the pediments in Roman architecture.
These little arches run round the cornice of the court, and are almost
the only ornament it has. The piers, which support the arches of the
court, are formed each of two half columns attached to an oblong pillar;
they are of stone, and have rude leafy capitals, with hardly any
projection. The upper arches, and the central lower arch next the
church, have the archivolts of stone, rudely, but richly carved; every
thing else is of brick. It appears from this description, that there is
nothing in the details of the design, or in the execution of this little
court, to demand our admiration; and yet it is exceedingly beautiful,
from the mere simplicity and harmony of the general disposition. The
tower is a square brick building, the panels of which are marked by
little shafts of stone, and finish at the top in rows of ornamental
arches without intersections. The inside of the church was originally
divided on the plan, into square portions, each division having two
semicircularly arched openings on each side, on the ground, and two
above to the gallery; and a vaulting of semicircular groined arches. The
two first squares remain in this state, but the third has two pointed
groins springing from a lower point; the strong ribs which separate the
squares, unite likewise in a point. The fourth square is that of the
lantern, which, from the external appearance, is probably an addition of
the thirteenth century; within, it is entirely modernized. There is no
transept. The parallel walls of the building continue a little beyond
the lantern, and the building terminates in an ancient niche or apsis.