sides, to which we are accustomed in our Gothic edifices; there is at
most only room for a range of small windows above the arches of the
aisles, and sometimes, as in the present example, not even for that;
they are consequently much lower in proportion to their dimensions on
the plan, but they may help to show, that beauty is not confined to one
scale of proportion, as two or three of them produce a very pleasing
effect, and amongst others, S. Ambrogio is good in this particular. Yet
I rather imagine, that it requires a practised eye to be able to judge
of this proportion, and to be pleased with it, when the building taken
as a whole is faulty; and that a man of good taste, not accustomed to
analyze the composition, is very likely to condemn the church as he
finds it, proportion and all. At my first visit the last rites were
celebrated to one who had been an abbot. The church was hung with black
tapestry; but broad borders of gold and silver tissue, covered nearly as
much space as the black. The Italians seem unable to bear the gloom of
entire black, and choose to introduce something of gaiety and splendour,
even in their funerals. The pall was of white satin, embroidered with
coloured flowers, and the mitre and crosiers were laid over it on the
coffin. Although it was mid-day, the church was lighted up with
multitudes of wax candles, and a man dressed entirely in scarlet,
stockings included, walked from one to the other, to collect the wax
which guttered down from them. Each candle seemed composed of four stuck
together, which I apprehend to be very well calculated to make the wax
run down, and as this is, I believe, a perquisite of some of the
inferior officers, it may really be an object. One candle was neglected,
and an old woman interrupted her prayers, to pick up a fine lump of wax,
which fell down from it; her cautious look round, to see that no one
belonging to the church observed her, shewed that she felt she was
stealing; but I suppose the moral sense of the poor in Italy is hardly
high enough to condemn with severity, petty thieving, or petty cheating.
In the churches of France, I used to find more women than men; I think
in Italy, or at least in Milan, the men are more numerous than the
women. All seem very devout, and are very silent.
To return to the architecture of the church. The choir has been
modernized, except the apsis, which is ornamented with mosaics
representing our Saviour, and with saints and angels. It is said to have
been executed by Greek artists in the tenth century; the pieces of the
mosaic are formed of a thin lamina of gold, or metal, laid on a thick
die of glass, and covered with a very thin plate of the same material,
and the whole united by exposure to heat. In a little chapel of San
Satyro in this church, is another mosaic of the same sort, which is
thought to be still more ancient.
The great altar contains the ashes of St. Ambrose, St. Gervase, and St.
Protasius; over it is a canopy, supported on four columns, of a
beautiful red porphyry. The canopy is attributed to the ninth century,
(if I understand rightly) but the columns are esteemed much more
ancient, and I dare say they are so, but not in their present situation;
they pass through the present paving, and tradition says that they are
as much below it as they are above, which is about ten feet. The bases
of the piers in the nave shew the pavement there to have been raised
above a foot; that of the choir is about two feet above that of the
nave; if we add these two dimensions, equal to three feet, to the
present height of the columns above the pavement, we shall probably have
their total height. The canopy is composed of four arches, each somewhat
exceeding a semicircle, and of four gables of a greenish colour, richly
adorned with gold. The ornament of the archivolt is formed of a series
of intersecting arches, all gilt, and little gilt crockets run along the
gables. The altar is also said to be very rich with gold, silver, and
precious stones; but it was covered with a case, and I did not see it.
Besides the altar, this church contains part of a granite column with a
marble capital, much too small for the shaft; and upon this is the
identical brazen serpent made by Moses for the Children of Israel in the
wilderness. More moderate people say, that it was made in imitation of
that of Moses; but these do not specify where the artist of the present,
could have seen the ancient one, or how he could have made a copy,
without knowing any thing of the original. It is entirely devoid of use
or beauty, and does not seem to be an object of reverence. Near this is
a sculptured sarcophagus of white marble, of Christian times, and
supposed to have been made to receive the ashes of Stilico, and his wife
Serena. Without entering very minutely into the truth of these more
reasonable traditions, they are certainly very pleasant, and seem to
bring history home to us; and they do really by increasing our
associations with it, fix it more firmly on the mind. Over this
sarcophagus, and partly resting on it, is a marble pulpit, which with
the eagle of gilt bronze which forms the reading desk, is of the time of
Frederic I. _i. e._ of the twelfth century.
On leaving this church I went to visit a little chapel, where St.
Augustine was baptized; but it has been modernized. I was much
disappointed, because, as the interest of the place depended entirely on
the event which took place there, it is palpably of importance, to any
impression received from it, that the original form and disposition
should as much as possible be preserved; and the Roman Catholic clergy
generally know how to give effect to their religious establishments.
Another church which interested me very much, is the Madonna delle
Grazie. It did belong to a rich convent of Dominicans, celebrated for
containing the Last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci. The front of this
edifice has suggested to me, the idea of what that of the cathedral
might have been. The nave is ancient, with a sort of half modernization
which lets the antique character peep through; to this have been added a
large square edifice, forming the centre of the building, crowned with a
lantern of sixteen sides, and a choir. The central part is just of the
beginning of the restoration of Roman architecture, and retains traces
of Gothic taste; but the parts are so well disposed, and so well
combined, that it forms one of the most picturesque compositions
possible. The Last Supper still exists in a room in the convent; but it
is in so bad a state, that hardly any thing but the design and
composition are readily intelligible. The head of our Saviour is said by
Vasari to have been left unfinished by Leonardo; but Lanzi rather throws
a doubt on this fact, though he acknowledges that in its present state,
three heads of the apostles alone remain of the original work. However
this may be, the expression of the head of Christ pleased me very much;
but I shall not presume to enter on the merits of the painting, a
subject already so often treated. The damage is principally owing to
time and damp, though the feet of our Saviour were cut away by a
superior of the convent to heighten a doorway; and some mischief was
done by the French troops, and especially by the cavalry, who were
stationed there in 1796; but I think from the carelessness and
inattention unavoidable in these circumstances, and not from that
systematic love of destruction which Eustace attributes to the French in
all cases. The woman who showed it said she had known the water stand
three feet deep in the room. Under Eugène Beauharnois it was drained;
and I believe every thing possible has since been done for the
preservation of the picture. On the opposite wall is a composition in
distemper, anterior to Leonardo, on which two figures in oil were
painted by him, previous to the execution of his own subject, which was
done in oil. The ancient distemper remains much more perfect than either
these figures, or those of the Last Supper.
Another of the churches I visited at Milan is that of St. Mark; the
proportions of which are very good, though low in comparison with those
usual with us. It was built in the thirteenth century, and its beauty is
said to have passed into a proverb; the front seems to have had a
magnificent rose window, which is now filled up; the inside has been
entirely modernized, but enough of the exterior remains to shew how very
inferior the architecture of Italy was, at that period, to that of
France and England. Though adopting a slightly pointed arch, the
buildings do not seem to have risen above the plainness and rudeness of
the Saxon style, till the middle of the fourteenth century. The artists
then began to copy the forms they found in France, but without adopting
the greatly elevated nave, and without abandoning the strong expression
of horizontal line, and horizontal extent, which they had retained from
the Roman architecture. In the following age, Gothic was entirely
abandoned.
Besides the churches, many public and private edifices at Milan are
pointed out to the notice of strangers. The first I shall mention is the
Palace of the government. While Eugene was there something was added
every year to its embellishments; but now this has ceased. The principal
suite of apartments is hung with tapestry, with large cornices, and
broad gilt borders, and ornamented with painted ceilings; such
materials, if tolerably well disposed, always produce an appearance of
splendour and princely magnificence; and this effect is not wanting
here. I considered how far Mrs. Schimmelpenning’s theory of the
superiority of light borders might be here illustrated. The relation of
the colour of the plain surface to that of the border, is very various,
but the lightest did not seem always the best; however, I so far agreed
with her, as to think that borders lighter than the ground, have
sometimes a degree of delicacy and elegance, which can hardly be
attained by the contrary disposition. In general it appeared to me, that
the rooms hung with yellow are the handsomest. I remarked this also at
the Palazzo Litte, where are two large rooms almost alike, one hung with
crimson, the other with yellow damask; and the effect of the latter was
far superior to that of the former. Next to yellow, blue and crimson are
the best colours. Green is the worst; but one room, sprinkled over with
large and high coloured flowers on a white ground, was exceedingly
tawdry, and much inferior, even to those where the green was
predominant. The ceilings are painted in fresco on the cove, and in the
middle, with ornaments in general very well designed and well executed;
and with subjects of history or allegory. These are partly the
productions of a Roman, of the name, I believe, of Traballesi; and
partly of Appiani, a native of Milan, scholar of the former. The
scholar’s works are excellent; full, rich, and harmonious; and far
exceed the master’s. Of the floors, some are very beautifully inlaid
with different sorts of wood; others are of the Venetian stucco, which
receives different kinds of marble, while yet soft, and the whole is
afterwards polished down to an even surface. When well done, it is very
handsome. Some of the rooms are hung with Gobelin tapestry, which at the
best, forms only indifferent pictures. Besides this suite there are two
large and lofty saloons, the largest of which has a gallery supported by
caryatides, one or two of which are justly admired for their execution;
particularly a female, covered with a veil. When first pointed out to
me, I thought the face had really been covered with a linen veil, in
order to preserve it. The other is a music room, the ceiling of which is
supported by columns. Both these rooms have been ornamented with
paintings representing the exploits of Napoleon, which are now removed.
The Brera was formerly the principal establishment of the order of the
Umiliati, who in the middle of the sixteenth century were found, like so
many other religious orders, to have departed very far from that
humility and piety, which was the first object of their institution. St.
Charles Borromeo attempted to reform them; and on this occasion their
chiefs are accused of endeavouring to assassinate the saint. The order
was suppressed in consequence of this charge in 1570, and this building
was given to the Jesuits for the establishment of public schools; and it
is still used for this purpose, and for the academy of the fine arts.
The great court is surrounded by two stories of arcades, the lower upon
coupled Doric, the upper upon coupled Ionic columns. On the side of the
entrance a double range of these archways gives room for the great
staircase. The judgment does not easily reconcile itself to arches upon
columns; or on posts; for a column is only an ornamented stone post; yet
I confess there is sometimes a delightful lightness and airiness of
effect, produced by the distribution, which I should be very much
puzzled to obtain by any other means. With regard to painting, I seem
here to have got into a new world. The number of pictures at Milan is
astonishing; not perhaps of absolutely first rate productions, but still
very fine ones. The grandest collection is in the Brera, and one feels
quite dazzled and almost overwhelmed by the splendour of art there
exhibited: but however delightful it is to have ready access to such a
gallery, I am aware that nothing is more dull, than a long enumeration
and description of paintings you cannot see; and I shall therefore
abstain from particularizing them. I have learnt here a great respect
for names which make very little noise in England. The drawing and
design of some of the frescos of Bernardino Luini are most excellent;
and the smaller pieces of Daniele Crespi are very fine, as are some of
the pictures of Giulio Cesare Procaccini. Besides many first rate
pictures, and these of the second rate, of the Milanese school, the
Brera contains a great number of ancient paintings; extremely valuable
to those who examine the history of the art, and trace its progress,
from the stiff attitudes and hard finish of early times, to the grace of
Coreggio, and the glow of Titian. It contains also a fine collection of
casts, and one of engravings. There are likewise rooms for the
exhibition of the produce of the useful arts; and attached to it is a
botanic garden. Every body must find his curiosity gratified in the
Brera.
The churches in Milan are full of good paintings, the chief performers
in which are Luini, Crespi, and Procaccini; but they are mostly in bad
lights, and the row of wax candles stuck in front of them is
unfavourable to their effect: but even in the poorest paintings, there
is a knowledge of drawing and colouring, and a grace in the position of
the figures, which we should seek in vain in the common productions of
France and our own country.
I have said nothing of the Great hospital, and I have very little to say
about it; for it possesses little interest as an object of architecture.
It is very large; about, I suppose, twice as big as the new Bedlam. It
was begun in the middle of the fifteenth century by duke Francis Sforza,
and has been increased at different times; the last addition being in
consequence of a bequest of a Dr. Macchi, who lived in misery, in order
to be able to leave three millions of livres to this hospital. Every
body is received, whatever may be their country, their religion, or
their disorder; and it possesses moreover a magnificent dispensary,
where medicines are delivered to the poor, gratis, on the specification
of any physician that they require them, but where also they are sold to
those who can afford to pay for them.
There are many fine houses in Milan; but were I to particularize every
thing which attracts my attention, I should never have done. The only
Roman antiquity is a range of sixteen Corinthian columns, with their
architrave, said to have been part of the public bath. They are very
much mutilated, but enough remains to shew that they were of good style
and well executed.
One of the principal lions in Milan, is the workshop of Rafaelli, who is
just finishing a copy in mosaic of the last supper of Leonardo da Vinci;
the labour of seven years, began by order of Eugene, and continued for
the Emperor of Austria. These mosaics have the richness and depth of
colour of oil paintings, and they last for ever. Had I been a rich man,
I think I should have been tempted to throw away twenty louis d’or on a
snuff-box, on which a greyhound was most beautifully executed; but I
suspect it is rather in bad taste to have trinkets in mosaic, as its
great merit consists in its durability, and a snuff-box does not seem
intended to last for centuries.
---------------------
PAVIA.
_August, 1827._
THERE is a navigable canal from Milan to Pavia, which was begun in 1807,
but is only just finished. From the Gate of Milan to the Ticino at
Pavia, it descends 182 feet, 8 inches; there are thirteen locks, the
whole descent of which is 167 feet, 8 inches; leaving for the descent of
the canal, fifteen English feet. The length is 107,350 feet, the breadth
42½ feet. At first it forms a considerable stream; but is continually
giving off part of its waters for the purposes of irrigation, and
becomes very sluggish on its arrival at Pavia.
My first object was the Duomo. There is a fragment of ancient Lombard
architecture on the outside, not now belonging to the church. The
present edifice was begun in 1488, on a magnificent scale. A spacious
octagon occupies the centre, and a nave and side aisles, extending in
each direction, were to have formed the cross; the side aisles opening
into the oblique sides of the octagon, which are smaller than the
others. I sought in vain for the sarcophagus of Boetius, and for that of
St. Augustin.
The church of the Carmine is much more interesting than the cathedral.
It dates in 1373, is of the pointed Lombard style, with intersecting
ornamental arches in the cornice, and the front is the most elaborate
example I have seen of the sort. It is also a very fine specimen of
brick-work; on which account also the pillars of the inside deserve
notice. Three squares form the nave, each of which is covered by a
simple groin, but opens by two small arches into the side aisles, and
has a very small circular window above. The beautiful brick-work has
been hacked, to retain a coat of stucco or whitewash. The walls and
vaults are also of brick-work, but of very different quality. These were
evidently intended to be covered. The upper capitals are of stone,
ornamented with detached leaves; the lower are of brick, cut into
escutcheon faces. I suppose you will laugh at me unmercifully, if I were
to propose to ornament such an edifice with gilding; but in fact it
would harmonize beautifully with the rich brown of the brick, whose dark
colour wants something to relieve it.
The front of S. Francesco is in the same style, and of the same
material: there is a series of round-headed arches below, which
displeases me; but the upper part, with one large central arch,
surrounded by a number of plain and enriched bands, is finely composed.
There are seven pinnacles in front of the Carmine, five on that of S.
Francesco, but though well contrived in themselves, they do not, in
either case, unite well with the building. The inside has been
modernized; and done badly, as is usually the case, because those who
wish to modernize, are precisely such as despise the old style, and
would scorn to enter into the feeling it produces: perhaps indeed I
might say, they are such as stop short at the rules, and totally neglect
the poetry of the art.
The church of San Salvadore, a little out of the town, is another
edifice of the same style, but on the outside, much plainer. The inside
has Corinthian pilasters supporting pointed arches, and it does not
appear that the solids have been altered, although various stucco
ornaments, which are not in good taste, have been added. The divisions
are square, each opening into two side arches. The whole is splendidly
gilt and painted, and in spite of some apparent discordance, the effect
is really fine. The church of San Michele is of an earlier date and
style of architecture. Malaspina di Sannazaro (_Guida di Pavia_, 1819,)
asserts that it existed in the time of Grimoaldo, king of the Lombards
in the middle of the seventh century. The plan is a Latin cross, with an
octagonal lantern at the intersection; but it is difficult in these
ancient edifices, to distinguish accurately the alterations from the
original work. The front is a very curious one; all the arches are
semicircular; there are three small doors, ornamented with grotesque
carving, and several small windows. There is also a central, circular
window; but this, though not large, appears to be an alteration. On the
slope of the gable is a series of small arches on columns, each column
being placed on a step. S. Pietro, in Cielo d’oro, is another example of
the same early taste: the inside has been modernized, but it is now a
barn.
There is said to be a church here by Bramante; but I inquired for it in
vain. Just out of the walls is one by Pellegrino Pellegrini. The outside
has never been finished, but if it were it would hardly be handsome. The
inside has two orders, and the upper entablature is nearly half as high
as the pilaster to which it belongs.
The university is a modern building, magnificent rather by its extent,
than by any merit in its architecture. The library is said to contain
60,000 volumes. There is a valuable collection of natural history, but
the animals are not well stuffed. For example, the _sole_ is so well
filled, as to appear nearly round.
The bridge over the Ticino is one of the lions at Pavia. It was built in
1351. The body of the work is brick, with stone quoins to the arches.
The road-way is covered with a roof, supported on posts of rough
granite, which in this state is by no means a beautiful material. It is
employed in the same manner in the hot-houses at the botanic garden. The
divisions in this garden are formed by _Thuja orientalis_, which is very
tractable to the shears, and makes very compact green walls, three or
four feet high, and not above six inches thick.
And now, having gone through the architectural antiquities of Pavia, I
must conduct you to the Certosa, about five miles distant, and not much
out of the road to Milan. It is here considered as one of the most
beautiful buildings in the world; and may be cited to shew how much more
effect the appearance of riches and splendour have on the judgment of
the multitude than fine taste and elegant proportion. It was begun in
1396, a period at which several splendid ecclesiastical structures were
raised in Italy. The cathedral of Milan; the church of S. Petronio at
Bologna; and the church of S. Francesco at Assisi; are all nearly of
this date. The architect is said to be the same Henry of Zamodia or
Gamodia who designed the Duomo at Milan. Malaspina (_Guida di Pavia_)
supposes it rather to have been built under the direction of a certain
Marco di Campilione; who disputes also the honour of the cathedral at
Milan, but this appears to be a mere guess. There is a bust of the
architect within the building, but without name or date. The style of
the two edifices is so different, as almost to preclude the possibility
of their being the productions of one man; and the present offers no
indication of the taste of our northern artists, while the cathedral
above-mentioned abounds with them. The nave has four square divisions,
each subdivided on the vault, and with oblique groins. The groining of
the side aisles is singular, each space being in fact covered with five
unequal pointed vaults, meeting in a common centre. Beyond the side
aisles on each side, two chapels open towards each square division of
the nave. The choir and arms of the cross have each two square
divisions, so that there are seven on the whole length of the church,
and five on that of the transept. The whole is in the highest degree
rich with painting and gilding, and the orders[31] of the altars of the
chapels of the side aisles are of the richest marbles, while the altars
themselves are of inlaid work in precious stones. Nothing is neglected.
Even the washing place of the monks is a magnificent marble monument.
The tomb of the founder, John Galeazzo Visconti, is said to have been
designed in 1490, and completed in 1562, which is the date mentioned in
the inscription. Circumstances might induce us to expect here one of the
finest productions of the _cinque cento_, but this is not the case. The
ivy represented on a door jaumb just by is far more beautiful than any
thing in the tomb. The outside of the flanks and transept of the
building is full of pinnacles and ornaments, which do not rise naturally
out of the construction of the building; but I examined the inside
first, and to confess the truth, I was fairly tired out with the
interminable splendour of the edifice: every little part seems to say,
come and admire me. There are two large cloisters, one of which is of
immense size, with marble columns, and a profusion of ornamental
brick-work; and there is a spacious palace of later date, for the
reception of visitors.