BOLOGNA, _June 3, 1856_.
Before leaving Tuscany, I passed a couple of days in revisiting Siena,
from which place I wrote two years since on my way to Rome. It is
accessible by railroad from Florence. Although dull it possesses much
of interest, and its airy mountain location induces many to spend
a part of the summer in it. Its delicious water, from a fountain
constructed in the year 1193, and famous for its quantity and quality,
is spoken of by Dante, in his Inferno. The people, however, do not
consider it the best substitute for their favorite wines, which they
have been in some measure deprived of by the partial failure of the
grape crop of late years; they look forward, however, to a good return
season.
The cathedral, the position of which was once occupied by a temple
dedicated to Minerva, is a masterpiece of Tuscan Gothic architecture,
incrusted without and within with black and white marble, of the
fifteenth century. Notwithstanding the eye may tire of gazing at
churches and their contents, still this old edifice, constructed by
the celebrated sculptors of Siena, will well bear re-examination, and
the mosaic pavement, among the most celebrated in Italy, is a study in
itself, consisting of sculptured history, the story of Moses, also
that of Joshua, and the emblems of cities once in alliance with Siena;
the elephant of Rome, with a castle on his back; the lions of Florence
and Massa; the dragon of Pistoia; the hare of Pisa; the unicorn of
Viterbo; the horse of Avezzo; the she-wolf of Siena, in memory of
Romulus and Remus; and many other animals and armorial representations
of the different cities and republics. Abraham’s intended sacrifice of
his son is most esteemed. The art of description in mosaic as early
as the fourteenth century, strikes many persons with surprise; but it
appears from the pavement which I saw in one of the disinterred houses
among the ruins of Pompeii, and which represented the battle of Darius
with the Persians, that the art was known before Christ, Pompeii being
buried by the irruption of Mount Vesuvius in the year 72. The painted
glass of the year 1549, with the busts of all popes down to Alexander
III., and some original frescoes of Raphael, are all well worth
attention.
Some years since, coming to this city, I employed the Vetturino mode of
conveyance, taking the mountain route, with the privilege of stopping
when and where I pleased, with an agreeable party. For the first trip
it was decidedly pleasant; we had a fine view from the summit of the
Apennines, of the Adriatic and Mediterranean; now halting for a rest,
or gratifying our curiosity; again strolling off to visit some remnant
of antiquity, and passing the night in some solitary inn or obscure
village; then came a scramble to the top of a hill called Monte di Fo.
High up over the rocks there was a small volcano, some fifteen feet in
circumference, disgorging its bright flames much to the satisfaction of
some of our party, who had not yet climbed Vesuvius or Ætna, or seen
Stromboli in a state of eruption. As we are apt to judge by comparison,
I naturally looked at it as a small specimen of a volcano. Having since
seen the burning mountains and craters of the Sandwich Islands, I was
not ambitious to retrace my old route, so I took the railroad to the
old city of Pistoia, with its wide, straight, and well-paved streets.
It contains some objects worthy of notice, but appears dull for want
of population; it was famous among the ancients for the defeat of
Catiline, and in more modern times for the factions of the Guelphs and
Ghibelines.
The country around is rich and fertile in the extreme, being amongst
the best cultivated in Tuscany. At this season of flowers and early
fruits, the hedges and climbing vines in festoons upon the trees,
forming continuous arbors, present a gay and cheerful appearance.
From Pistoia, taking the coupé or front compartment of a diligence, in
company with a French baron and his lady, and nine passengers inside
and on top, besides a heavy load of baggage, with from four to seven
horses, and a pair of oxen for the steepest ascent of the Apennines,
we accomplished the distance of fifty-four miles in thirteen hours,
along a most picturesque and romantic route, winding around the brink
of precipices and upon the margin of mountain torrents, with their
deafening roar, not apprehensive of avalanches of snow which I have
sometimes dreaded in Switzerland; they have an occasional land slide
here. We passed one spot, in particular, where twenty-four persons lost
their lives.
Crossing the frontier into the Papal States, we had, at the first
custom-house, the usual scenes, such as I described to you two years
since, in going south; also swarms of beggars, blind, halt, and lame,
affording an opportunity of disposing of small coin, no longer of use
in the adjoining territory.
Descending the mountain, following the course of the river Reno through
a beautiful valley, the road lined with the tall poplars of Lombardy,
we arrive at Bologna, the second city in size, and first in commercial
importance, of the sovereign Pontiff Pius IX.; it is pleasantly
situated upon the river just named, and famous for other things besides
its sausages. History reports its existence, under the name of Felsina,
as an Etruscan town, previous to its capture by the Boii, who changed
its name to Boina, and in time converted to Bologna. 653 B.C.
it received a Roman colony, but suffered by civil war; it was restored
by Augustus after the battle of Actium, and afterwards became one of
the most powerful cities of Italy.
It is now commercial, with a population of seventy thousand. It is
the most remarkable city for porticoes I have ever seen. It is rainy
to-day, but you may walk for miles without an umbrella. About three
miles from the city, on the summit of a hill, is the church of the
Madonna, the ascent to which is fatiguing; it has a continuous arcade,
containing six hundred and forty columns, constructed at the expense of
different ecclesiastical establishments, and the bequests of the rich.
We went up the carriage road in our vehicle, putting in advance of the
horses a pair of oxen. From the summit is a vast and extensive view of
the neighboring mountains, the extended valley, and the city, almost at
our feet.
A curious old tower stands nearly in the centre of the city, called
Asinelli, erected in 1109; it is said to be three hundred and
twenty-seven feet high, and inclines four feet. Another, near by,
built about the same time, is one hundred and forty feet in height,
and inclines eight feet from the perpendicular. They are constructed
of brick, and have been restored at different periods. A slight shock
of an earthquake would tell a sad tale for the neighbors. A canal, or
race, runs through the city with an abundance of water, supplying the
mills. The Piazza del Duomo, or principal public square, upon which
stands the venerable cathedral, the Government House, and other public
buildings, has a noble but antique appearance. Here is a colossal
statue of Neptune, in bronze, by the celebrated Giovanni of Bologna.
This gigantic figure holds a trident, one foot rests upon a dolphin,
and at the base of the four angles of the pedestal are seated four
female figures, with their hands across their breasts, from which issue
jets of water; their nether limbs, terminating in the form of fish,
are seated upon huge dolphins, whose nostrils spout the liquid stream
in the basin beneath. The Campo Santo, or burial ground, ordered by
Napoleon in 1801, is interesting to visit.
Bologna boasts of giving birth to Guido, Domenichino, Annibale
Caracci, and of course has a good gallery of paintings. Its anatomical
collections, with the one in Florence, are the most curious and
extensive in the world. Its university is supposed to have been founded
by the Emperor Theodosius, in the year 425 of the Christian era; others
say by the Countess Matilda, much later. It is said to have contained
six thousand students once, and professors in proportion; its celebrity
is not now so great. Some of the palaces are well worth seeing, for
those who have not seen Italy generally.
Strangers, I notice, make but a short tarry here generally, but push on
south for Florence and Rome, or further north to Milan and Venice. I
design to reach the latter place in a few days, after visiting Modena
and Mantua.