MILAN—THE CATHEDRAL—GALLERIA VITTORIO EMMANUELE—PIAZZA
D’ARMI—PALAZZO DE BRERA—LAKE OF COMO BOLOGNA—ITS ANCIENT
HISTORY—LEANING TOWERS—THE CERTOSA—TEATRO COMMUNALE—BRINDISI.
From Turin I went by train to Milan. I ought to have gone direct past
Magenta, but by some mistake I found myself making quite a round-about
journey, _viâ_ Piacenza and Lodi; however, all’s well that ends well. I
arrived at the hotel in Milan in time for _table d’hôte_. Now, although I
am writing a book principally on travels and adventures in Egypt and the
Soudan, I dare say my readers will excuse me if I attempt a description
of my travels out and home. All the places I visited were extremely
interesting to me, and I cannot forbear a little gossip and relating
what I know respecting them. Those who have not visited these places
will perhaps be pleased to read my description, and those who have will
be able to compare notes and see if they are correct. I had been told
that the best time to visit Il Duomo—the Cathedral—was at eight or nine
o’clock in the morning, on account of the splendid view obtainable from
the roof; this I did on the morning following my arrival, and was richly
rewarded for my trouble. Il Duomo is certainly a magnificent structure,
inferior in magnitude to St. Peter’s at Rome, but in some respects
not an unworthy rival. It is built of white marble, and is one of the
most impressive ecclesiastical edifices in the world. In its present
form it was commenced in 1387, and is not yet entirely completed. Its
form is that of a Latin cross, divided into five naves, terminated by
an octagonal apsis, and supported by fifty-two octagonal pilasters of
uniform size, except four, which, having to bear the cupola, are larger.
Around the exterior are 4,500 niches, of which above 3,000 are already
occupied by statues. In the interior everything is of the most imposing
and gorgeous description. I said everything, but I should except an image
of wax of the Virgin Mary, with the infant Saviour in her arms. The waxen
face and arms looked very dirty, her attire was very commonplace-looking
stuff, and I did not think her rather dirty-looking neck was much
improved by a bit of paltry-looking green ribbon encircling it. This
image would certainly be more suitable at Madame Tussaud’s than in this
beautiful cathedral. But I will finish with the exterior. The roof is a
perfect forest of marble pinnacles, nearly all crammed with most valuable
marble statues. The celebrated marble flower-bed contains several
thousand flowers, each distinct and each different in design. I leave
the roof and ascend the tower, from which I obtain a magnificent view of
the Alpine range, Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, the St. Bernard and Matterhorn
right away to the Superga and Mont Cenis.
In the interior we notice the rich stained-glass windows of the choir,
comprising about 350 subjects of Biblical history, the Gothic decorations
of the sacristy, the candelabra in front of the altar shaped like a
tree, and decorated with jewels, then the Chapel of St. Borromeo, which
is a subterranean chapel of a most gorgeous and costly character, as it
is one mass of jewels. The shrine and walls are silver, all inlaid with
gold and precious stones. If I remember rightly, I paid a franc extra for
my visit here, and had the gratification of seeing the embalmed body of
St. Borromeo, with the valuable rings of office still on his fingers. A
golden crown (presented by the unfortunate Maria Teresa) is suspended
over his head, and a large crucifix of splendid emeralds lies on his
chest—this, I am told, was given by the Empress of Austria.
Of course, in Milan, as in all large towns in Italy, there are any number
of beautiful and remarkable churches. Among the most remarkable edifices
are the church of Sant’ Ambrogio, founded by St. Ambrose in 387, the
churches of Sant’ Eustargio, San Lorenzo, Santa Maria delle Grazie, with
a cupola and sacristy by Bramante, and the celebrated Last Supper by
Leonardo da Vinci; Santa Maria della Passione, a majestic edifice, with
excellent paintings and a magnificent mausoleum; San Paolo, San Carlo
Borromeo, &c.
Immediately adjoining the Cathedral is a magnificent square, which
was finished on the occasion of the Austrian Emperor’s visit to Milan
in 1875. This is called the Piazza del Duomo. From this square I pass
through the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele, a very fine glass-roofed arcade,
or gallery, connecting the Piazza del Duomo with the Scala Theatre; the
cost of this was about £320,000. It was commenced in 1865 and opened in
1867. The glass canopy is illuminated by 2,000 jets of gas, and when
these and the beautiful and brilliant shops are lighted the effect is
charming. The length of this kind of covered street is 320 yards. La
Scala Theatre was not open for performances when I was there, but by the
judicious disposition of a franc or so I obtained admission just to see
it. It is, I understand, capable of accommodating 3,600 spectators. I
next strolled on to the Piazza d’Armi, which occupies an immense space,
obtained by the demolition of the citadel and its outworks. Part of
it has been converted into an amphitheatre, 800 feet long by 400 feet
broad, used in summer for races and shows, and capable of containing
30,000 spectators. The castle, now a barrack, fronts the Piazza d’Armi
on one side; at the opposite side is the Porta Sempione, with the
fine Arco Sempione, or Arco della Pace. This is a lofty gateway, with
three passages, built of blocks of white marble, adorned with reliefs
and statues, and bearing inscriptions commemorating the emancipation
of Italy. My next visit was to the Palazzo di Brera, or Delle Scienze
Lettere ed Arte, containing the Pinacoteca, or picture-gallery, with a
very valuable collection of paintings and statuary, and containing also
the library of the Academy (170,000 volumes). Besides this library, Milan
possesses the Ambrosian library, the earliest and still one of the most
valuable public libraries in Europe. There is also a valuable museum
of natural history, a conservatory of music, a military college, a
theological seminary, and a veterinary school.
Though Milan is one of the most ancient towns in Lombardy, it has so
often been partially destroyed and rebuilt that few antiquities remain.
It is entered by eleven gates, several of which are magnificent. Its
foundation is attributed to the Insubrian Gauls; but the first distinct
notice of it occurs B.C. 221, when it was subdued by the Romans, under
whom it acquired so much importance that in the division of the empire
attributed to Constantine the Great it ranks as the second city of
Italy. In the middle of the fifth century it was sacked by the Huns,
under Attila, and again in the following century by the Goths; but
greater horrors yet awaited it, for the Goths, who had been driven out
by Belisarius, having regained possession by the aid of the Burgundians,
gave it up to the flames, and put almost all its inhabitants to the
sword. The most important manufactures are tobacco, silks, cottons, lace,
carpets, hats, earthenware, white-lead, jewelry, and articles in gold
and silver. The spinning and throwing of silk employs a large number
of hands, and furnish the staple article of trade. The other principal
articles are corn, rice, cheese, and wines.
In the evening of the second day (whilst engaged in the purchase of
everything Milanese in the way of photographs) I met with a Milan
gentleman, who had lived some years in America, and who could speak
English remarkably well. He was a genial, good-hearted looking kind of
fellow, and we soon got into an animated conversation. I was surprised
to find how well up he was in English politics, and as for the Irish
question, he could hold his own with any Englishman; he was, too, a great
admirer of Lord Beaconsfield. When we had had about an hour’s chat I was
about to return to my hotel; he then asked me how long I was going to
remain in Milan. I told him I intended leaving next day for Bologna.
“Have you seen the lake of Como?” said he.
“No,” I replied. “I should like to do so very much, but fear I cannot
spare the time, as I have to be at Brindisi on the 21st.”
“But you must not leave,” said he, “until you have been there; it is only
a run of thirty miles to Como by rail. I live there. Come to-morrow and
visit me, and I will put you in the way of seeing Bologna in half the
time that you would do it in without assistance.”
This very kind offer I accepted, and spent next day a very agreeable time
with my new acquaintance, who was most hospitable and friendly. We parted
with mutual protestations of goodwill, and I took train for Bologna,
which is several hours’ ride from Milan.
Bologna (anciently Bonovia) is one of the oldest, largest, and richest
cities of Italy. It lies at the foot of the Apennines, between the Rivers
Reno and Savena, 190 miles N.N.W. from Rome. It is five or six miles in
circumference, and is surrounded by an unfortified wall of brick; it has
extensive manufactures of silk goods, velvet, artificial flowers, &c. It
struck me as being a quaint old city. All the houses, or nearly so, are
built out over the shops and pavement, supported by large pillars, and
forming a covered way nearly all over the city which affords shade and
shelter to the foot-passengers.
Bologna was long renowned for its university, founded, according
to tradition, by Theodosias, the younger, in 425, and restored by
Charlemagne, which, in the centuries of barbarism, spread the light
of knowledge all over Europe. It once had 10,000 students, but the
number now averages only 300. The university formerly possessed so much
influence, that even the coins of the city bore its motto—_Bonovia
docet_. During 1400 years every new discovery in science and the
arts found patrons here. The medical school is celebrated for having
introduced the dissection of human bodies, and the scientific journals
prove that the love of investigation is still awake in Bologna. The
chief square in the city, Piazza Maggiore, the forum in the Middle Ages,
is adorned by several venerable buildings. Among them are the Palazzo
Pubblico, which contains some magnificent halls, adorned with statues and
paintings; Palazzo del Padesta, chiefly remarkable as having been the
prison of Eugenis, King of Sardinia, and son of the Emperor Frederick
II. who was captured and kept here by the Bolognese for more than twenty
years, till his death; and the church or Ansilica of St. Petronio, which
was commenced in 1390, and is not yet finished. The palaces and churches
are too numerous to make any remarks on. The leaning towers, Degli
Asmilli and Garisenda, dating from the twelfth century, are among the
most remarkable objects in Bologna. The former is square, and of massive
brick-work, built in three portions, and diminishing in diameter to the
top. Its height is 321 feet, and its inclination from the perpendicular
6ft. 10in. The Garisenda is 161 feet high, and inclines a little more
than 8 feet. Bologna has always been famous for cheap living, and has
been chosen as a residence by many literary men. Gourmands praise it
as the native country of excellent maccaroni, sausages, liquors, and
preserved fruits. The pilgrimage to the Madonna di S. Lucca, whose
church is situated at the foot of the Apennines, half a league distant
from Bologna, and to which an arcade of 640 arches leads, annually
attracts a great number of people from all parts of Italy. Bologna
was founded by the Etruscans under the name of _Felsina_, before the
foundation of Rome. In 189 B.C. it was made a Roman colony, and called
_Bonovia_.
I had been told that the Certosa, or burying ground, was well worth a
visit. It is about 2½ miles outside the city by the Porta St. Isaia,
so I took a cab and was well rewarded for my trouble, for this burying
ground is the most beautiful and remarkable in Italy. Here we can walk
for hours under cover between rows of statues and marble tablets of the
greatest beauty. When I returned to my hotel I found dinner waiting, and
afterwards it struck me that I must seek some more exhilarating mode
of amusement after my visit to the Certosa. I accordingly made my way
to the Teatro Communale, one of the three best theatres in Italy, San
Carlos at Naples and La Scala in Milan taking precedence. The opera was
“Mefistofele,” splendidly mounted and well supported by artistes. The
orchestra was large and all that could be desired by the most fastidious
critics, and there are plenty of them in a Bolognese audience. Boxes are
in _every_ tier in the house, and the effect is very pretty.
As I had to start for Brindisi at 3 a.m. on Sunday, November 20th, I had
not much time for sleep, notwithstanding which I got between the sheets
until then, when I was conveyed to the station and finished my nap in the
train.