Departure from Milan.--Lodi.--A Quack.--Frog-eating.--Battle at
the Bridge of Lodi.--Piacenza.--The Duchy of Parma.--Charges
at Inns.--Castle Guelfo.--Parma.--Modena.--Composition
Floors.--Bologna.--Its Towers.
Although we had breathed an atmosphere of delight from the moment the
carriage turned out of the glen of the Doveria to enter the first
really Italian valley, the ardour of expectation and enjoyment was
scarcely diminished when we entered the carriage to quit Milan, on
our way towards the barrier of mountains that separates the Upper
from the Lower, the false from the true Italy. We had certainly some
of the architecture, glimpses of the nature, and a multitude of the
recollections of the latter, where we then were; but we well knew that
there was more beyond, and we were glad to hurry towards it after the
two or three days of repose that we had now taken. As yet we had only
seen Cis-Alpine Gaul.
Old Caspar mounted his horse with renewed vigour, and he trotted
through the southern gate with us, some time before the sun had risen.
Although it was only the 15th of October, and we were now fairly on the
great plain of Lombardy, the morning was so sharp that I found both a
surtout and a cloak agreeable, if not necessary.
The streets of Milan, and indeed of all the towns of this part of
Italy, have lines of flat stones, a sort of railways, laid for the
carriage-wheels; the celebrated Corso having two tracks, in order
that the vehicles may not intercept each other. The town walls are of
bricks, and a good deal covered with ivy; and as the ditch is imperfect
and neglected, they were probably more efficient in the days of the
Visconti than in those of Napoleon. Military patrols march the streets
at night, and all night, so that the place is orderly and safe. We saw
many people with _goitres_ in the streets, peasants most probably from
the valleys of the Alps.
We took the route to Lodi, which is about twenty miles from Milan,
the road lay the entire distance through meadows and vines. There was
little other prospect than that of fertility, for we were in a sea
of plain, though the Alps still lifted their hoary peaks along the
northern horizon. South, east, and west, the sight was bounded with
a fringe of fruit-trees, with, here and there, a gaunt church-tower
thrusting up its neck, to mark the site of a village. There was,
however, a good deal of irrigation, with canal-like ditches, among the
meadows, and occasionally a broad margin of faded verdure around us.
At Lodi we stopped two hours. The inn windows overlooked the
market-place, which was teeming with the activity, gesticulation,
bawling, humour, and wrangling of low Italian life. One fellow, mounted
on a horse, was haranguing a crowd; and, leaning forward, I caught
enough to discover that he was a quack dispensing immortality at very
modest prices. Suddenly a peasant presented his face, when the fellow
extracted a tooth, without dismounting. The operation was performed
with great readiness, and, flourishing his prize in triumph, while the
poor patient was holding his jaws and kicking right and left with pain,
the fellow called on all around him to witness how slight a thing it
was to lose a tooth.
Observing great quantities of what I supposed to be small birds,
beautifully white and clean, strung on coarse grass, I went down to
examine them, thinking they might be some game of which it would be
well to know more; but, on inspection they proved to be the hind
quarters of frogs! There were hundreds of strings of them in the
market. I know not how the French got their reputation of frog-eaters,
unless it comes through the usual English prejudice; for I feel certain
that ten frogs are consumed in Italy for one in France. Indeed, frogs
are rather an unusual dish in Paris; nor do I remember ever to have
seen them any where on a private table. The country around Lodi,
however, is just suited to such a stock, and literally, thousands are
consumed by the inhabitants.
We were anxious, of course, to examine the celebrated bridge. I found,
however, that the people on the spot did not deem the battle so
serious an affair as it is usually imagined; and as I have heard, on
pretty good authority, that several of Napoleon’s battles were fought
principally in the bulletins, I went doubting to the river. The stream,
you know, is the Adda; it is straggling, and a good deal disfigured by
sand-banks. The bridge, six or eight hundred feet in length, is narrow;
and the land opposite the town is a low meadow. A few houses on that
side mark the approach to the bridge, and the buildings of the town do
the same thing on the other. As it would be physically impossible to
cross this bridge under the fire of batteries of any force that were
in the least well managed, and as the Austrian artillery, moreover,
if not the very best, is considered among the best in Europe, I was a
good deal staggered with the appearance of things. The result of all my
inquiries on the spot was as follows, and I presume it is not far from
the truth.
The Austrian army was in retreat, and had thrown the Adda between
itself and its enemy. Napoleon arrived in pursuit. Ascertaining that
the stream might be forded, he sent a detachment with that object
towards a flank of his enemy, and the Austrians retired, leaving a
force to protect their retreat at the bridge. Anxious to strike a
blow, Napoleon decided to force this point immediately, and ordered
the attack. My informant affirmed that most of the Austrian artillery
had commenced retiring before the assault was made, and this appears,
at least, probable. Finding that his column paused under the fire of
a few guns left, Napoleon and his generals cheered them on in person.
The French did not get across until the Austrians were too far on their
retreat to make the affair decisive, but soon enough to seize some of
the guns in the rear; guns that the Austrians probably intended to
sacrifice.
I give you this account as it was given to me by one who affirmed
he was an eye-witness. Certainly, after seeing the bridge, I shall
not believe that one army crossed it in face of another that was not
completely disorganized. _Au reste_, it was sufficiently hazardous to
attempt it in the face of a couple of efficient guns; and the personal
intrepidity of the generals would be abundantly apparent even under
such circumstances. It was probably a gallant thing, though by no means
the precise thing we are accustomed to believe it.
Lodi is a town of some size, having a population of sixteen or eighteen
thousand souls: it is the place in and near which the celebrated
Parmesan cheese is made, the environs being chiefly in rich meadows. No
Italian, I find, thinks of eating his soup without a spoonful of this
cheese, which as regularly forms one of the ingredients as salt. It
struck me as a discrepancy in civilization to eat frogs and not to know
how to make good coffee; for we have quite taken leave of the latter
since we crossed the Alps.
The country continued much the same beyond Lodi. Towards evening
we discerned the towers of a town in the visible horizon, and soon
after came to the side of a sluggish stream of some size, lying low
between banks that it sometimes evidently filled. The town was on the
opposite side, walled, and not immediately on the stream. The river was
the Po, which we crossed by a bridge of boats, and, making a little
circuit, we drove through a gate-way and entered Piacenza. Ordering
dinner, I walked out to look at the place, which contains more than
25,000 inhabitants. It is gloomy, crowded, and dull. Indeed, it is not
easy to see how so many towns of this size are kept up on so small a
surface. There does not appear to be any commerce worth mentioning; the
manufactures are usually on a small scale, and half the people seem
idle. There is a small palace belonging to the sovereign, of tolerable
architecture. It has fifteen windows in front, while that of the
governor of the place has thirteen. I believe the White House has less
than either of these; though Piacenza is merely a provincial town, and
the duchy of Parma itself contains less than half a million of souls.
Austria has made a very convenient arrangement for the defence of this
frontier. She has a right, by treaty, to maintain garrisons in several
of the towns that lie in the adjacent territories; by which means
she gains so many outworks beyond her own limits. Piacenza is thus
garrisoned, as is also Ferrara. This town and its walls are principally
constructed of bricks: an unusual thing on the continent of Europe. The
walls seem going to decay.
In the evening I strolled into the great square, which I found thronged
with people. These towns are so cramped within their fortifications,
that walking, except in an area, like this, or on the ramparts, is
almost out of the question; and as they all have a _place d’armes_,
the people have acquired the habit of resorting thither for air and
exercise.
There was a silent, gloomy crowd in the square; and as many of the men
wore cloaks and were smoking, it reminded me of Spain, a country whose
habits may very well have been introduced through the princes. You will
remember that, by an intermarriage with the heiress of the Farnese
family, this duchy passed into the possession of the Spanish Bourbons.
It was a short time in the hands of the Emperor, as an indemnity, and
by him again ceded to the Bourbons. Three generations of the latter
family next reigned here; but the last gave up his duchy for the
ephemeral kingdom of Etruria; one of the bungling jobs at king-making
that Napoleon turned off during his own apprenticeship. At the peace
of 1814, Marie Louise received Parma in full sovereignty; but this
arrangement was subsequently altered, and she now holds it for life,
the reversion being settled on the present Duke of Lucca, who is the
son of its ancient sovereign, the King of Etruria. At his succession, I
believe Lucca is to be annexed to Tuscany. In speaking of the size of
the palace, I ought to have mentioned that Piacenza was once a separate
duchy; to which circumstance it probably owes that structure.
We were off at six, as usual, and trotted on merrily, through a
perfectly level country, though apparently less fertile and less
peopled than Lombardy Proper. Until now, since we entered Italy, our
course has been generally south; but on quitting Piacenza we diverged
materially towards the east, travelling almost in a parallel line with
the ranges of the Apennines, whose forms began to loom up, a little, in
the haze of the atmosphere.
We had been warned of the necessity of bargaining at the inns for what
was ordered; but higgling is so odious, that I had done nothing of the
sort, preferring imposition. The last night at Piacenza, however, I
left the family in the carriage, and went to look at the rooms myself,
asking the price. Under these circumstances, I found that about half
as much was demanded as I had hitherto paid. The result showed that
our lodgings and supper cost very little more than the breakfast
alone, and yet we had a parlour and four good bed-rooms! The next day,
at breakfast, I ordered the meal at so much a head, and for so many
persons: there was no difference in the service, or in its quality, and
we paid three dollars for that which had cost us five the previous day.
We crossed the bed of a torrent that was absolutely dry, but broad, and
spanned by a noble bridge that Napoleon had commenced and which his
widow had just finished. Nearly every thing is constructed of bricks,
still. Near Parma we passed an old castellated edifice that excited a
good deal of curiosity among us by its name, which is Castle Guelfo. I
could get no history of this fortress, but it is fair to presume it had
some connexion with the wars of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. The
building stands directly on the road, like a tavern, and in a perfectly
level country. The main edifice, which is very high, is ranged around
a court; it is about one hundred and fifty feet on each front, and is
constructed of bricks and small stones placed in alternate layers of
about three feet in thickness. The structure is surrounded by a ditch
that is now dry. Three or four low, heavy, awkward towers are attached
to the square building; and several appendages are scattered about,
without the ditch. The whole is dilapidated, though still inhabited.
We reached Parma very early, the day’s work being less than forty
miles, over a perfect plain, although it nearly carried us from
one side of the duchy to the other. This is a much finer town
than Piacenza, and materially larger. We were no sooner housed and
refreshed, than we hurried off to see the palace, the theatre, and
the other curiosities. The first is an ancient, irregular edifice of
bricks, with a small, new, stuccoed façade. The theatre is one of the
largest in Europe, and, one would think, capable of holding all the
_élite_ of the duchy. A covered gallery built on arches connects it
with the palace, of which it is properly an appendage.
We saw many cockney sights, such as the cradle of the young Napoleon,
and other similar wonders; but the duchess herself, of whom I could
gladly have stolen a glimpse, was at Vienna, where she passes most of
her time. The servants spoke of her as _Sa Majesté_, and told us that
she maintained a good deal of state. She has three or four thousand
troops, _gendarmes_ included; and we saw the garrison here, in coats of
sky-blue faced with red.
The Academy of Arts repaid us for the visit. It has many good pictures,
one in particular by Correggio, who was a native of the vicinity.
Here we met, for the first time, with specimens of architecture that,
I believe, are nearly, if not quite, peculiar to Italy. A tower is
erected near the church to contain the bells, which is called the
_campanile_; and a sort of dome stands at hand, a structure altogether
apart, in which the office of baptism is performed. The latter, from
its object, is called the _Battisteria_.
I have seldom seen quainter or ruder specimens of the Gothic than we
found here, in a church of the middle ages. One of the bas reliefs is a
car drawn by two horses, of which one is actually placed on the back of
the other, from ignorance of all laws of perspective. This is almost as
bad as the bas reliefs in the rotunda of the Capitol. But the nations
have their Gothic ages; though it is to be hoped ours is to precede,
and not follow the golden.
We breakfasted at Reggio, in the duchy of Modena, a place which gives
the title of Duke to Marshal Oudinot. The country continued much the
same, perfectly level, with the shadows of mountains on our left, and
apparently fertile. We reached Modena itself, very early, and had time
to look at the sights, the best of which are in the palace of the duke,
consisting of pictures. Here we also first saw composition floors, made
of stucco, in imitation of marble. When several coats of mortar have
been laid, and beaten to a proper consistency, pieces of marble are
stuck in it, so as to variegate the surface, and sometimes in a way
to form designs. When the whole has indurated and set, the surface is
polished. The result is a beautifully mottled floor, richer than any
natural stone, much cheaper, and, if well made, perhaps as durable. It
would be well to adopt this mode of ornamenting houses in America. We
might commence in the public buildings and in large private houses. It
has the additional recommendation of security against fire. In a warm
climate, however, it is the most desirable; though carpets can be used
over the stucco, in winter, as well as over boards. The servants told
me that a little oil mixed with bran or saw-dust, and swept over the
floor, had the effect of brightening the colours and of rendering the
whole brilliant. This process is repeated once or twice a week.
The palace was neat, well kept, and large for the Duchy. Even this
structure puts Windsor to shame, so far as the internal arrangements,
and the beauty and lightness of the rooms are concerned. Modena is a
town of five-and-twenty thousand souls, and, like most of the places of
this part of Italy, the wonder is what they find to do. The reigning
family was also at Vienna; for all this region, though governed by
different princes and held by different titles, is virtually Austrian.
Our next day’s march was still easier, extending no farther than
Bologna, where we arrived about noon. The frontier of the States of the
Pope was passed near the town of Modena, most of the road lying in the
new territory. It was on the line of the ancient _Emilia Via_.
Here, then, we were at last on the confines of Lower Italy, and though
the Apennines threw up their bold heads between us and our goal, we
began to feel as if we had arrived. In the mean time, we sallied out to
see the wonders of Bologna.
The streets of this town are lined with arcades, like those of Berne,
though loftier, lighter, and of better architecture than the gloomy
vaults of the city of the _Burgherschaft_. The architecture is
altogether superior. You will be surprised to hear that the same cause
has induced this particular mode of building; viz. the snows! Although
in the heart of Italy, Bologna, lying at the foot of the Apennines, and
on their northern side, is liable to have its streets obstructed with
snow. There is a church on a hill, at the distance of a league from the
town, and certain pious persons have actually caused a covered walk
to be constructed the whole distance to it. It is an arcade open to
the south, and protected towards the north by a wall. So much for the
climate of Cis-Alpine Gaul!
The pictures of Bologna gave us great satisfaction; but the subject is
so hackneyed, that it is seldom I shall enter into details about such
things. The wax-work preparations have a horrible truth, and though
probably useful as anatomical studies, are odious as spectacles. The
same things exist at Paris, in equally disgusting accuracy.
There are two ugly motiveless brick towers in this town, one of which
is of great height, and the other is not low, that lean out of the
perpendicular in the way to make a spectator shudder. They have not
much more beauty than the chimneys of a paint manufactory, and seem to
have been built precisely for the reason that boys often pile bricks,
with one leaning over the other, or just to ascertain where a line
drawn from the centre of gravity will fall without the base. These
babyisms on a large scale are apt to succeed the noble conceptions of
a great nation, when in its decline. I believe, however, there is some
pretence of utility connected with the best of these extraordinary
freaks, and some pretensions to workmanship.
Bologna gives one an idea of the riches of Italy, in palaces and the
arts. Its venerable and celebrated university is on the wane; but there
are noble remains of its former wealth, learning, and importance. Many
of the first families of Italy still reside here, and its society is
said to be very desirable. But what can one who passes a day in a
tavern tell you of these things that is worth knowing?