and so on, that the probability is nine out of ten are sceptical.
CHAPTER II.
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
