Journey from Padua--The great Quadrilateral--Historic Verona--Hotel due
Torri--Recent inundations--Poetic Verona--House of the Capulets--Juliet's
tomb--Streets and monuments--Cathedral--Roman amphitheatre--Shops--Veronese
ladies--Departure--Romantic journey--Lake Garda--Disenzano--Brescia.
The route between Padua and Verona was not particularly interesting,
until nearing the latter, when we were able to form some idea of the
vastness of its military works. This city, combined with Peschiera,
Mantua, and Legnano, formed the great Quadrilateral, which was
considered impregnable, and from which it was supposed no army once shut
in could ever escape without total defeat. During the last war of
Italian Independence, when France was allied with Italy against Austria,
the army of the latter country was here enclosed within its own strong
fortress, and ultimately had to succumb, after which Verona in 1866 was
restored to Italy.
The city of Verona is of very ancient date, having been founded by the
Rhoetians and Euganeans. It was made a Roman colony about the year B.C.
89. It has been the birthplace of many of Italy's brightest
geniuses--Catullus, the special poet of Verona, as Virgil was of
Mantua, Cornelius Nepos, Æmilius Maca, Vitruvius, Pliny the younger,
Scaliger, Sanmicheli, Paul Veronese; and it also possesses great
historical interest, and many antiquities and remains of ancient
buildings. It is still a considerable town, with some 60,000
inhabitants.
* * * * *
We arrived late in the evening, and drove at once to the Hotel Royal
Barbesi (Due Torri), which I should fancy, in the palmy days of the
city, was the grand hotel. At the present time it has a desolate,
old-fashioned look about it, as though it had not kept pace with the
times. It has a great courtyard open to the sky, round which the rooms
range in storeys, very cold and dimly lighted. However, when the
somewhat elderly chambermaid brought candles and hot water, and the
waiter lit up the dining-room, things began to have a more cheery
appearance, and we sat down to our very late dinner, feeling more
comfortable. The head waiter became quite animated, and, after a little
difficulty, induced the Dutch stove to give out some warmth. I ceased to
wonder at the desolate appearance of the place, when I heard that it had
scarcely recovered from the disastrous effects of the floods during the
preceding December. One night it had rained heavily, and the next
morning, to the landlord's consternation, the courtyard was found to be
some six or seven feet deep in water; the cellars and lower rooms and
offices were completely swamped, and the horses had to be brought up to
the first floor. The visitors, some forty or fifty in number, were quite
unable to leave the hotel; and, owing to the incessant rain, this
pleasant state of affairs continued for a week. Many of the churches,
houses, and shops were eight feet under water, and ruin and destruction
seemed inevitable. Meanwhile gondolas and other boats were employed as
much as possible for the conveyance of food, etc., but the rush of the
water from the higher to the lower parts of the town was so great, it
was difficult to use them. It was not surprising, therefore, that the
town made a chill and dismal impression on us. We felt quite aggrieved
at thus being defrauded of Dickens' "Pleasant Verona." "Pleasant
Verona," says our delighted humorist, "with its beautiful old palaces,
and charming country in the distance, seen from terrace walks; and
stately balustraded galleries. With its Roman gates still spanning the
fair street, and casting on the sunlight of to-day the shade of fifteen
hundred years ago. With its marble-fitted churches, lofty towers, rich
architecture, and quaint old quiet thoroughfares, where shouts of
Montagues and Capulets once resounded:
"And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments
To wield old partisans.
With its fast rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great castle,
waving cypresses, and prospect so delightful and so cheerful! Pleasant
Verona!"
Verona is situated on the sides and at the base of a circle of hills,
in a bend of the river Adige, by which it is divided, so that when the
river is flooded by heavy rains, the low-lying parts of the town are
soon under water.
The name Verona brings a delicious flavour of romance and poetry with
it. If Shakespeare had only made it the birthplace of his "Two
Gentlemen," and the scene of Julia's sweet constancy, it would have been
enough to cast a halo over it; but all other associations pale before
the memory of the "star-crossed lovers," whose names rise to the mind at
the mention of Verona as readily as those of Portia and Shylock are
recalled at Venice. Doubtless, there are being enacted around us events
fully as interesting, as amusing, as sad, and as tragic as those
depicted by our great dramatist, for the world is ever the same--human
nature varies little, be time and fashion what they may; lovers love as
truly and passionately as ever did Romeo and Juliet; and selfish ignoble
feelings mar the beauty of mankind as of old. Yet, surely the world is
improving--the sun of Christianity has long been struggling behind the
dark clouds of the past, and we now surely begin to see its glorious
silver lining, and find the world bursting into nobler, higher, and
better life.
Our first impulse, on the morrow of our arrival, was to go in search of
Juliet's home, and see the balcony where she confessed her love in the
moonlight, all unconscious that he of whom she spoke was an eager
listener to the outpourings of her fervent soul:
"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet."
The house was easily found. In the Via San Sebastiano (formerly the Via
Capello) are many high, dull-looking houses with overhanging roofs, once
the residence of the Veronese nobility. They are built, for the most
part, of dirty brick, and are not very picturesque save for now and
again a Gothic window, or a fragment of iron lattice grating, rusty and
broken, which lends a certain dignity, as though they were yet pervaded
with the spirit of the past. One of these houses, somewhat larger than
the others, was once the house of Shakespeare's youngest heroine. Over
its archway is still the hat, or "capello," which represents the arms of
the family of the Capulets. We were greatly disappointed at the gloomy
appearance and inappropriate surroundings of the scene of one of the
tenderest and saddest love-tales that have come down to us from ages
past. There is a balcony certainly, but too high, I think, for even the
ardent Romeo to have climbed; there were, however, evident signs of
another balcony lower down, which had been removed, possibly to prevent
its incontinently falling on the head of some unfortunate pedestrian.
The house, which is known by the name of the Osteria del Capello, has
long been used as an Inn. It may perchance have been a flourishing
hostelry--say a century ago, but at the present time its fortunes have
reached a very low ebb, and only the lower portion of the building is
used for that purpose. The remaining storeys within the spacious
courtyard are let to artisans and others of the lower classes. They all
have balustraded balconies, on some of which we saw clothes hanging out
to dry. Within the courtyard is a well, from which the women draw water
for household purposes, and the Vetturini clean their carriages. The
place was swarming with children, not over clean; and, in fact, the
whole locality was so dirty we were glad to get away--it was impossible
to indulge in poetic memories in view of such desecration.
We now made our way almost to the other end of the town, in search of
Juliet's tomb. After passing the workmen's quarter, we presently came to
a large wooden door, and on knocking were admitted to the garden of an
old suppressed convent. Crossing the grounds, we reached the building
itself, where, next to the outer wall, we were shown a large open
sarcophagus of reddish stone, the sides about four or five inches thick,
and partly broken. The inside was strewn with visiting-cards--travellers
from all parts of the world paying this tribute of respect to the memory
of the unfortunate girl-bride. There were even some photographs, one of
which I especially noticed of a young lady, who had written on the card
a few lines of sympathy for poor Juliet's faithful and devoted love.
Although there was something touching in this veneration of a past
romance, I think it was carrying sentiment a little too far to leave
visiting-cards and photographs in a desolate and deserted tomb, which we
have no positive proof ever contained the remains of La Giulietta, as
the Veronese call her. For my part, I think it far from probable that it
was ever the scene of the tragic end of these unhappy lovers.
"But wherefore all this wormy circumstance?
Why linger at the yawning tomb so long?
Oh for the gentleness of old Romance,
The simple plaining of a minstrel's song!
Fair reader, at the old tale take a glance,
For here in truth it doth not well belong
To speak:--O, turn thee to the very tale,
And taste the music of that vision pale."
The streets of Verona are, in general, narrow and paved with rough
stones very fatiguing to walk on: the Corso Cavour is the finest
thoroughfare. Our hotel was situated in a quiet side street, from
whence, turning to the left, is the Piazza dei Signori which has in its
centre a statue of Dante, who, after his banishment from Florence, lived
longer at Verona than at any other place, but died and was buried at
Ravenna.
"Happier Ravenna! on thy hoary shore,
Fortress of falling empire! honour'd sleeps
The immortal exile."
There is also a beautifully built town hall in the Byzantine style, with
statues of some of the most eminent Veronese--Maffei, Catullus, etc.
Then there are the law courts, the old castle of the Scaliger family,
and the vast brick Campanile, some three hundred feet high. Close to
this piazza is a little church, also in the Byzantine style, where,
enclosed by a wonderful network railing of very curious design and
beautiful workmanship, are the finely sculptured sarcophagi of the
Scaligers, the founders of the city.
Emerging from the piazza, we found ourselves in the quaint and busy
market-place, the Piazza delle Erbe, reminding me of a huge open Covent
Garden, only that here the healthy, robust market-women sit under
immense umbrellas, whilst vending their fruits and vegetables. All
around are houses of different size and form, painted in various
colours, the whole making a bright and picturesque scene. In the centre
there is a very ancient fountain; at the top are stone columns, which
once supported the winged lions--the token of Venetian rule--thrown down
on her emancipation. This market-place was the Forum in ancient times.
The Cathedral contains little worth seeing save the fine painting of the
_Assumption_, by Titian. In the foreground the Apostles are standing
beside the empty grave, looking upward at the figure of the Virgin, who
is borne aloft upon the clouds by the usual attendant angels. The effect
of this is very beautiful. The façade and porch outside are very fine.
There are two figures in red marble, of Roland and Oliver, on either
side, which are considered proof of a rather doubtful tradition that
this church was built by Charlemagne.
At the Capuchin Church we saw a _Dead Christ_, by Paul Veronese, one of
his best works. Santa Maria della Vittoria contains a _Descent from the
Cross_, by the same illustrious artist, many of whose finest pictures
are in the Pinacoteca, in the Palazzo Pompei, of this his native city.
We visited the churches of San Stefano and San Zeno. The former was once
the Cathedral of Verona, and contains the tombs of most of the bishops
who were buried there. The latter is very fine from an architectural
point of view.
One of our most enjoyable expeditions was that to the ruins of the great
amphitheatre. It is constructed of red marble from the Veronese
quarries, upon basements of Roman brickwork. No other amphitheatre can
be compared with this for costliness of material; nor I believe, for
size, it having contained some fifty to sixty thousand spectators at a
time. It is somewhat oval in form, being 546 feet by 436 feet across;
the circumference is 1476 feet. The outer circuit once consisted of
seventy-two arches, but only four now remain. The height from the
pavement is 106 feet. Inside, the great flight of marble steps or seats
rise tier above tier, and when at length we gained the top, we had a
magnificent view of the whole city, and of its strong fortifications.
The outer wall of the amphitheatre, all rugged and overgrown with weeds,
seemed like the side of some huge cliff. There, far below in the piazza,
people were passing backwards and forwards, outside the _cafés_ loungers
sipped their chocolate and smoked their cigarettes. The city lay before
us, with all its palaces, churches, vineyards, picturesque towers, and
forked battlements, divided by the swiftly flowing river, which curved
round like a flash of light; and beyond lay the circling landscape,
crowned with convents and villas; and in the far distance the Euganean
Hills, with their blue and purple tints, and the snowy peaks of the
Tyrolese Alps. It was indeed a lovely and an interesting scene.
The amphitheatre, as it now stands, is in excellent preservation; I
believe a large sum is annually devoted to the purpose of keeping it so.
It is a noble specimen of the gigantic works of the indefatigable
Romans. These great Coliseums give one some idea of the immense
populations of the cities in those times. We were very pleased with the
fine echo in this Veronese amphitheatre.
The fortifications of the city are remarkably fine. Sanmicheli, the
Italian engineer who planned them, was certainly a great architect; the
Doric gate, Porta Strippa, Porta Nuova, and many of the buildings and
palaces in Verona, were designed and built by him, and are good examples
of his remarkable powers.
The shops here are fairly good, the town, as usual, abounding with
_cafés_ and confectioners. Oil and wine appear to be the principal
products now, but at one time there were some ten thousand hands
employed in the silk trade. There were evidently some very enjoyable
excursions to be made in the country surrounding the city, but our short
sojourn did not allow of our undertaking any pleasure trips.
The people looked healthy, but I did not find much to praise in the
beauty of the Veronese ladies, who, less wise than those of Padua,
discarded the graceful and becoming head-attire of black lace, and
adopted excruciating and deforming Parisian fashions.
It was a beautiful, bright, clear day when we left Verona in the
forenoon of April 5th, for Milan. Passing through the suburbs of the
town, we realized to the full the beauty of its situation, nestling in
the valley of the Adige, with undulating plains, well cultivated and
dotted with villages, and the splendid amphitheatre of hills in the
background harmoniously blending with grey blue sky, altogether making
one of the finest bits of river and hillside scenery I have ever seen.
Every commanding point bristled with fortifications. This part of the
famous quadrilateral is evidently exceedingly strong, but it would
require an immense force to garrison the forts alone. These recent
acquisitions of Italy, and her ambition to be a first-class naval power,
must very greatly increase her national debt, and probably another large
loan will soon be wanted. However, the Italians appear quite alive to
the dignity and responsibility of the position they have been suddenly
brought into since the Crimean War, and they seem determined to be equal
to it.
It was interesting to witness, close to the train, on a very fine
camping ground, the exercises of the cavalry and artillery as we passed.
At Peschiera, distant about a quarter of an hour's railway journey from
Verona, we came in sight of the beautiful Lake Garda, the snow-clad
mountains rising almost precipitously from its blue waters. A tiny
vessel, with green and red sails like wings, floated peacefully along;
the verdant fields and never-ending fortifications in the foreground.
Then, as we changed our course, the lake slowly expanded, disclosing the
soft, harmoniously tinted hills sloping upwards from its shores, a warm
mist blending their outline with the sky above. Every moment opened new
scenes of loveliness to us--little nestling villages of dazzling
whiteness; a narrow strip of plain, with clumps of cypress trees; and
presently a small island in the bosom of the lake, seemingly a tiny city
with castellated tower resting on the blue waters; great mountain peaks
rising grandly in the background. This island of Sirmione which is
connected with the mainland by a stretch of sand, contains some old
ruins said to have been the villa of Catullus.
At 11.25 we arrived at Desenzano, the station of which overlooks the
lake, but the town itself is at some little distance. It seemed so
lovely here, I quite regretted we were to continue our journey to Milan.
After Desenzano, which possesses a picturesque little castle with
turreted walls, the railway passes on to higher ground, affording more
commanding views of the lake scenery. Then the land intervened, and we
quite lost the lake. The weather was delightfully warm, the air bracing,
and the sky cloudless. The sunny hills, flooded with soft purple light,
reflected from the red soil in the foreground, added greatly to the
beauty of the scene. The olive and the vine seem to love this richly
coloured earth, and always flourish splendidly on it. Pizzato is finely
situated at the foot of the great Carrara marble quarries. Thousands of
hands are employed here. There were consignments of marble columns and
blocks for building purposes at the station, ready to be despatched,
probably to all parts of the world; for the hard and beautiful white
marble dug out of these stupendous Alpine quarries is greatly in request
for monuments, tombs, etc. After this we lost sight of the snow-clad
hills for a time, but at Brescia they reappeared.
The castle and fortifications of Brescia are boldly placed, overlooking
the city. The Cathedral Dome, and red serrated hills, add a picturesque
grace, with the purple mountains in the background. Up to this point our
journey had charmed us with its beautiful and varied landscapes, but the
remainder of the route appeared tame and uninteresting. It was our first
taste of the beautiful Italian lake scenery, and we were spoiled for
anything less lovely. Much of the ground we passed over in this journey
from Verona to Milan was full of historic interest, having been, from
its important central and strategic position, one of the great
battle-fields of Europe both in ancient and modern times.