CHAPTER VI.
TheDuomo—Our host’s advice—Joseph the Second—Tombs—That to the memory of Giovanni and Gabrielle de’ Medici, designed by Michael Angelo—Chapel of St. John—St. Bartholomew—Tomb of Otho, archbishop of Milan—Crucifix carried by St. Charles of Borromeo—Antique altar—Burial-place of St. Charles—La Scala—Opera ballet—The Brera, once monastery of theUmiliati—Paintings—The old castle—Arms of theVisconti—Prerogative preserved to himself by Giovanni—The parricide—Filippo Mario—His innocent wife executed—Carmagnuola Filippo’sgeneral—Forced by his injustice to change of party—Suspicions of his new masters—His execution—Francis Sforza—His youth—His name’s origin—Jane of Naples—Imprisoned by her husband—Set free—King James a monk of St. Francis—Forte Braccio—Sforza’s death—Arena—Roman ruin.
27th.
Passed the morning in the ramblings which travellers are heir to, first proceeding to theDuomo. As I wished to see there the holy mummy of St. Charles, which lies in its crystal case and subterranean chapel, I asked our host for directions: “You must knock,†said he, “at the door of the sacristy, and there you will find a priest.†“A priest; a gentleman?†“Yes, you had better ask his charge beforehand,as he may be extravagant; and there are about a dozen steps to descend, and should his demand be exorbitant, you can give him two-thirds or the half, which will satisfy him.â€
Passing the post-office and finding no letters, we arrived at the cathedral in five minutes. It occupies one extremity of a most irregular place, and if its façade wants taste, or at least consistency, having some doors and windows of Roman architecture, mingled with the Gothic, and its form is that of a heavy pyramid,—yet seen in the bright sunshine, its mass of white marble, with all its pinnacles surmounted by statues, standing shining forth from the purest of blue skies as if they were carved in snow, its effect is far more striking than the engravings would lead to expect, and the grandeur of its size and delicacy of its execution justify the exclamation of Joseph the Second: “It is a golden mountain, chiselled by fairies, and metamorphosed to marble.†The statues which adorn the edifice are in number about four thousand five hundred, of which two hundred and fifty decorate the façade. Each of the twelve needles supports a colossal figure; that of the Virgin having for base the tallest of all, of Moorish architecture. Her statue is in gilt copper, and from the pavement to the glory round her head the elevation is a hundred and eight metres, eighty-six centimetres.To describe these and thebassi relieviwhich encrust the façade of this noble church would be endless, and indeed the intense heat prevented my examining the half of them; but I particularly remarked for their beauty the two figures which represent the Old and New Testament at either end of the great balcony above the chief portal. The two interior columns of this central entrance, for there are five, are of enormous height and size, considering that each is carved of a single block of the pink granite ofBaveno. Within, the cathedral is divided into five aisles (the nave being of double width), separated by fifty-two massive pillars of octagon form; four others of far heavier dimensions, raised in the centre of the church, support the cupola, and their strange capitals each exhibit eight statues. On the right near the entrance is the tomb of Eribert, archibishop of Milan, who died in 1035, and farther against the wall a monument, which is a Gothic gem, decorated with small statues, each in its niche; while on the top lies in marble effigy oneMarco Carelli,who gave 35,000 golden ducats towards the expenses of the building. Of the chapels, that best worthy notice is beside the small door which opens on the stair, whose 512 steps conduct to the dome erected to the memory of Giovanni andGabriello de’ Medici,by PopePiusthe Fourththeir brother. The real name wasMedechinothoughGiovanni,become one of the great captains of his day, took advantage of its similitude with that of the Florentine house, and adopted their armorial bearings. He had obtained distinction early. Presented when a young officer to Francis Sforza, who having married Blanche ofVisconti, and lost his father-in-law, after their long dissensions, became, in the latter’s place, lord of Milan; he gained his entire confidence.Astorio Viscontimight, it was feared, assert his right to the Milanese sovereignty, andMedechino,with another namedPozzino,were chosen for his assassins.Astoriodead, Sforza’s anxiety to rid himself of his accomplices, induced him to command the death ofPozzino,whileGiovanni Giacomoreceived an order to repair to the castle ofMuzzo,on the shores of the lake ofComo,charged with a letter for the governor. On his way thither, though they had parted on the best terms, he suspected the intentions of Sforza, and opened his despatches. Finding there his doubts confirmed, he fabricated others, commanding the governor to yield him present possession of the fortress, and once installed therein, he held it against all the efforts of the duke of Milan. He afterwards tookChiavenna;and, lastly, offered himself to Charles the Fifth, the emperor, whocreated him duke ofMarignano,and to whom his courage and conduct rendered signal service in the wars of Germany. Having incurred the emperor’s displeasure, by unnecessarily prolonging the siege of Sienna, at the head of the army which Charles placed at the disposal of the Grand Duke Cosmo to subdue the revolted inhabitants, and also by his pillage and cruelties exercised towards the peasantry of the country which surrounds the town during the eight months the siege lasted, he fell ill from grief at losing his master’s favour, and died at Milan,—where, four years after, his brother, elected pope, raised this mausoleum to his memory, designed by Michael Angelo. The six beautiful columns are in Roman marble, the remainder of marble of Carrara, excepting the statues which are of bronze; those of the brothers, of colossal size, occupying the centre, between two weeping figures of Peace and Heroism.
The large chapel, dedicated toSan Giovanni Buono,which terminates the transept, is next in order: it contains some finebassi relieviand statues; among the latter a group, near the altar, of a guardian angel, who carefully leads a child, while his foot holds down, without an effort, a prostrate demon. At the entrance of this chapel stand two colossal figures of saints, bad, and in plaster,—though notperhaps injurious to the effect of the whole, and to judge of it, this spot is the best which can be chosen. We gazed at all its details, the hollow of the high dome rich with countless statues; the chapel opposite, with its rich stained window, seen athwart a forest of columns; the light through the coloured glass crossing with a red ray pillar and floor, and touching the forms of bishop and cardinal in their niches; on the capitals the square grated aperture, before the steps of the choir, which gives light and air to the burial place of St. Charles; the semi-circular pulpits of carved and gilded bronze, supported by bronze figures, leaned each against its massive column; the sculptured stalls of the canons,—the altar with its curious temple and red canopy, and the tall painted windows seen behind it, and the golden star shining on the roof above, within which lies the relic of the St. Cloud which, with multifarious ceremonies, is once a year let down by pulleys to meet the eyes of the faithful, and with like pomp mounted to its place again:—the rich lamps suspended by gilded chains, and the priests officiating in their robes of black, green, and crimson,—and the view seen dimly through and along the pillared arches where they turn round choir and high altar. The white marble has no glare; it is stained with a successionof softer greys than mellow stone. Near the same chapel of San Giovanni, and the entrance to the subterranean passage which, imagined byPellegrini,leads to theArchevêché,hangs, suspended from a pillar, a much-prized picture byProcaccini,effaced almost wholly.
As we passed on beside the choir, we looked through the gratings which, surmounted by most delicate sculpture, light the subterranean chapel beneath, also having marble columns, balustrades, and altars. Opposite is a fine monument in black, supporting a figure in white marble, which reclines upon it,—the head resting on the hand, executed byAugustin Busti,to the memory of the CardinalMarini Caracciolo;and near it and the door, which opens into the southern sacristy, and which I beg you to notice for its lovely and elaborate carvings, hangs an effigy of Our Lady of Succour. Italian taste has glazed this picture, which is an ancient one, and represents the Virgin giving the breast to the Saviour, who stands on her knee,—and stuck, outside the glass, above the heads and across the throats, tin crowns and bead necklaces. Above, its pedestal jutting from the wall, is the statue of Pope Martin the Fifth, raised by the command ofFilippo Mario Visconti, last duke of Milan of the name. The flayed St. Bartholomew, who carries hisskin on his shoulders, is a fine specimen of anatomy, and a most disagreeable production of art. Past the three stained windows and the long lists of relics contained in theDuomo, is a strange tomb, which resembles a red marble chest, supported aloft by two columns, and containing the ashes of Otho, archbishop of Milan. The seated statue above is that of PopePiusthe Fourth; next comes the door of the northern sacristy, even more beauteous in its sculpture than its companion, and the tomb of the three brothers,Arcimboldi.We had arrived at the first chapel in the transept, dedicated to St. Thecla, who is there among the lions, all carved in white marble,—a red riband and silver heart hung round her neck by some devotee.
The large chapel, which corresponding to that ofSan Giovanni Buono,terminates this cross aisle, is dedicated to the Virgin; and beautiful, in spite of masses of artificial flowers in the hands and tinsel on the heads, is the group of the Virgin and Child. On either side of the entrance is a colossal plaster statue, even worse executed than those inSan Giovanni’schapel, and the floor in front is paved with the tombs of six cardinals. Farther on, descending the aisle, there is over an altar a wooden crucifix inclosed in a glass frame, interesting because the same which was carriedby St. Charles Borromeo when he walked barefoot in the processions he instituted during the plague of 1576. There existed here formerly an antique altar, remarkable for its age only, surmounted by a figure of the Virgin in wood, rudely carved and heavily framed. When removed some time since, there were discovered behind it two inscriptions by one Alexio of Albania, an officer of Duke Francis Sforza, who, in gratitude to Our Lady for his successes, raised this altar in the year 1480. Near the entrance stands the baptismal font, (a large vase of porphyry, brought, it is believed, from the baths of Maximilian,) beneath a tabernacle, whose pillars are of antique marble, and their capitals of carved bronze.
The pavement, with its arabesque ornaments and various coloured marbles, is worn by the feet of curious or faithful, and from the dirty habits of the numbers who frequent the church, forces one to tread it with the same precaution as the streets themselves.
Having made the tour, we returned to rest ourselves on one of the benches opposite the choir, allowable, where people walk and talk unscrupulously during mass, for I noticed even priests doing so with the unconcern of two boys, who kneeled beforeSan GiovanniBuono,praying a little and talking a little by turns. Opposite the doors of the two sacristies are steps conducting to the subterranean chapels, the roof of the first supported by eight massive marble columns. The sunbeams from above entered faintly, touching with their gold a part of the quaint carving, and leaving the rest in obscurity, hardly lessened by the light which burned feebly in the elegantly formed lamp before the marble balustrade of the altar. The guide leads the way to the inner chapel, which is St. Charles’s sepulchre. From the grated opening in the floor above, it receives but a pale and imperfect day; and as the torch which the priest bears flashes on the riches it contains, its precious metals and marble floor, to the worth of four millions, it resembles Aladdin’s cave rather than a burial place. The vault is of octagon form, the roof encrusted with silverbassi relievi,recalling the principal events of the saint’s life; the panels of cloth of gold divided by silver Caryatides, representing the Virtues, one at each angle; and the saint’s embalmed body attired in pontifical robes laid at its extremity in a shrine of rock crystal mounted in silver and ornamented with the arms of Philip the Fourth of Spain, (by whom it was presented to the cathedral,)wrought in massive gold; the dead face and hands are bare, the latter covered with jewels, which sparkle as in mockery.
Having spent the day in theDuomo, the curiosity next in order was La Scala. You know that it retains this name because erected on the site of a church founded by Beatrice of La Scala, wife ofBernabo Visconti. We went thither in the evening, the opera beingRoberto Devereux,and the ballet the lastViscontiand first Sforza. The house, which yields in size only to San Carlo of Naples, is freshly and brilliantly decorated; its six rows of boxes which each with its drapery are carried up the whole height, its pit seventy-five feet long and sixty-six broad, are capable of containing three thousand six hundred spectators. Its demerits are, that its fine lustre lights its immense space imperfectly; that the effect of the royal box which fronts the stage and is handsome, is injured by the crown above it, out of all proportion ponderous; that its singers are scarce above mediocrity, and its scenery below criticism. Whether from these causes or the season, there were not a dozen people in the boxes, and the parterre was but half filled. The governor’s box is within two of the stage, but he did not occupy it. La Scala once boasted a first-rate scene-painter, but dying, he failed to drophis mantle on his successor, and, saving a few of his faded scenes, you can fancy nothing so pitiable. Theprima donna,who performs Queen Elizabeth of England and possesses a voice just passable, is unhappily plain, andRoberto Devereux,Earl of Essex, chanted a base most awful. The costumes were of any and no period, and yet the audience in the pit determined to be pleased, and compensating for its small numbers by applauding manfully, demanded the performers at the close of the first act, when Roberto and his beloved, who, fearing the queen’s ire, had just parted for ever, came forward to bow and curtsey hand in hand. Of the undelivered ring we heard nothing, but a great deal of a dirty blue scarf which belonged to the damsel, and by mistake was sent as a token to the queen. Quitting the opera at the end of the second act, an Italian custom which would destroy all illusion, if such existed, we summoned patience to see the ballet, more fatiguing to the eyes and incomprehensible to the understanding than anything I could have imagined, the heads, arms and hands of the actors moving in unison with every note of the music, and forming a ludicrous contrast to the expressive French pantomime and magical decorations of the grand Opera. The dancers were ungraceful, but all, even to the fatfigurantes,wereapplauded noisily, and they have, I observe, the habit of concluding each pas seul with a grateful curtsey to the pit. The palace ofViscontiwas a chaos of tin, coloured paper and sheets of foil, and the ballet ended with a seafight, (rockets sent across the stage representing cannon,) and the entrance of a party of pasteboard deities who came in on wheels. We did not wait for the last act of the opera, preferring to stroll home by the light of a young moon.
28th.
Torrents of rain. We passed a part of the day at theBrera,which was, in times of yore, the monastery of theUmiliati; the order which produced St. Charles’s assassin, and on its suppression was yielded to that of the Jesuits, who have left in its noble courts and spacious halls the mark of their wealth and power. A double tier of pillared arcades surrounds the court, while opposite the entrance is the fine staircase, designed by the architectPiermarini;a monument to whose memory, with others sacred to native poets and painters, occupy places beneath these porticoes, for theBreraunites within its walls the picture gallery, the cabinet of medals, the observatory, and the schools of painting, sculpture, architecture and anatomy, besidesa gymnasium and a botanical garden on the spot where the monks cultivated theirs. In the fine rooms which contain the paintings are some of the most splendid I have seen of Paul Veronese, particularly the Adoration of the Saviour by the Wise Men of the East, whose subject might puzzle a novice, for the wise men are dressed in the costume of Paul’s time, one of them accompanied by his dwarf, and the baby Christ wears a pearl diadem on his brow. I noticed also a superb Vandyck, St. Ambrose in Prayer to the Virgin, and a Last Supper by Rubens, whose composition it would be difficult not to prefer to that on the same subject by Paul Veronese.Guercino’sAbraham and Agar, which several students were employed in copying badly, is very beautiful; the weeping face of Agar about to go forth to the desert contrasts finely with the proud and half averted one of Sara. In one of the rooms are several heads of the famed fresco of Leonardo da Vinci, carefully raised from the walls of what was the refectory ofSanta Maria delle Grazie,and is now a barrack-room. We had gone thither hoping to see its remains, but the convent, converted to military uses, is not now shown. We could enter the church only, which, an ill-formed mass of red brick without, is curious within, and has a side chapel filled with monuments,decorated with ultra Catholic care, but many of them ancient and interesting. The head of the Saviour, which is at theBrera,is mild and beautiful in expression, but its colouring wholly faded.
The library is rich in curious manuscripts, and occupies five spacious apartments; in the first are two bad portraits of the emperor and his consort. All the modern productions we saw, for there is a smaller chamber dedicated to them, were strangely wretched in their execution.
This part of Milan contains the widest streets and finestpalazzi;the latter awoke my admiration, with their double gates and arcaded courts, surrounded by orange and pomegranate trees.
The most interesting spot in Milan, recalling as it does names famous in its story, is the old castle, which held in turn theViscontiand the Sforza. Originally built in 1358 byGaleazzo, lord of Milan, it was demolished at his death through the jealous fears of the citizens, but rebuilt by his sonGiovanni Galeazzo. It stood unmolested till the decease ofFilippo Mario,last duke of theViscontifamily, when the Milanese, determined on adopting a republican form of government, razed it to the ground once more. Francis Sforza, married toBlanche,daughterofFilippo Mario,and become duke of Milan, raised it from its ruins with strength and extent greater than before. It is this, of the date of 1450, which exists even now, for only its fortifications were destroyed in 1801 by Napoleon’s order, substituting a vast open space and avenues, which form shady promenades. Towards the town are the two massive round towers, and entering on this side you cross five inner courts, in the last of which (that fronting theplace d’armesandArco del Sempione) are the ancient state apartments. On the capitals of the columns which support the vestibule of the grand staircase are carved the arms of Sforza andVisconti; the latter bare the serpent on their escutcheon on account of the exploit of an ancestor who, ere yet his family ruled Milan, marched to the first crusade with Godfrey of Bouillon, and there, in single combat, killed a Saracen general, and despoiled him of his arms and the shield on which was emblazoned a snake swallowing a child.
Giovanni Galeazzo Visconti, born in 1347, whose daughter Valentine espoused the duke of Orleans, the murdered son of Charles the Fifth of France, purchased of the Emperor Wenceslas the rank of duke, which he bore first of his family. He was a believer in astrology, and when already attacked withplague, a comet becoming visible in the heavens, he made no doubt that it appeared to summon him.
His son Giovanni Mario commenced his reign by a parricide. The duchess, his mother, favoured the Guelph party. That of the Ghibellines, under the name and by the authority of the duke, then fifteen years of age, forced her to fly to Monza. Surprising her there, they dragged her back to the castle of Milan, and soon after murdered her within its walls. Giovanni Mario, by turns the instrument of Guelph and Ghibelline, lost his large possessions one by one, till only the town of Milan obeyed his sway, and even within the ducal city the sole prerogative he reserved to himself was the command of its executions.
From his childhood surrounded by crime, and inured to the sight of blood, he at last found pleasure only in witnessing a fellow creature’s agony as the sole excitement strong enough to rouse him. The slow forms of justice slurred over or put aside, the condemned were delivered to his power to be hunted to death by bull-dogs, whom his huntsmanGevancohad taught the taste of human flesh to accustom them to their fearful office. At last, when the measure of his crimes was overflowing, he was massacred by the Milanese nobles as he was about to enter the church ofSt. Gothard, the 16th of May, 1412, aged only twenty-two years. His brotherFilippo Mario,on the news of his death, obliged the widow ofFacino Cave, Giovanni’strusted general, who had died of malady the same day as the duke by violence, to marry him ere she had laid her husband in his grave, and although she was twenty years his senior; she held at her disposal a brilliant army, the garrisons of various towns, and a fortune of four hundred thousand golden florins.
Taking instant possession of her riches, he purchased with their distribution the fidelity ofFacino’ssoldiers, and marched to Milan, of which they made him master. He undertook to reduce Lombardy to the obedience she had sworn to his father, but being cruel and crafty, and not brave, and seldom daring to leave the shelter of his fortified walls, he seemed little fitted to accomplish such an enterprise. It happened, however, on almost the only occasion in whichFilippo Mariohad been present in battle, that he distinguished among his soldiers one namedCarmagnuola, who, born in the lowest grade of society, had been an officer’s servant, and now first enrolled himself in the ranks of the army. Apt to discern the military merit he could not imitate, he madeCarmagnuolahis officer, and the latter, rewarding his quicksightedness, andhimself recompensed with the titles of count and the rank of general, reconquered all Lombardy. ButFilippo Mario,in the caprice of tyranny, flung down the foundations of his fortune. Falsely accusing his wife Beatrice of being untrue to him, he sent her to perish on the scaffold; and suddenly taking umbrage at the power and distinction ofCarmagnuola, he dismissed him from the command of his troops, denied him an interview, flung into prison his wife and daughters, and forced his general to fly for safety to Venice, whither he was followed by an assassin, who failed to accomplish his errand.
Treachery obligingCarmagnuolato treason against the state he had first served, he took the command of the armies of the two republics of Venice and Florence, and the duke of Milan found him a victorious enemy, though opposed to his son-in-law Francis Sforza. After a signal defeat of the Milanese the peace which ensued restored his wife and children to liberty, butCarmagnuolahad roused Venetian suspicion by generously sending back all the prisoners he had made in battle, and when on the renewal of the war he met with unusual reverses, they called his ill fortune perfidy. The Council of Ten, in consequence, summoned him to Venice, there to advise the republic daring the negotiations for peace, receivedhim with extraordinary pomp, the doge honouring him with a seat by his side, and expressing to him affection and gratitude as the voice of the republic; but hardly had his soldiers retired, leaving him unguarded in the senate, thanCarmagnuola, destined to be the mark of ingratitude, was seized and heavily ironed, flung into a dungeon, and given to the torture. Twenty days after his arrest he was brought forth—gagged lest he should assert his innocence,—and beheaded. Of all his immense wealth which it confiscated, the republic only allowing a poor annuity to his daughters.
His death, in 1432, delivered DukeFilippo Mariofrom his most formidable foe, but ever pursuing the same wavering policy during his whole reign, he troubled and devastated Italy with an inconstancy of motive and action not to be comprehended. His natural daughter Blanche long promised and at last married to Francis Sforza, he by turns united his generals against his son-in-law, or sought his protection against them. He had once again had recourse to him, and peace between them was hardly ratified, when, as Francis and Blanche were on their way to join him at Milan, he was seized with fever, and died almost suddenly.
This Francis Sforza, who succeeded to thelastVisconti, despite the right of the duke of Orleans, whose mother was Valentine of Milan, was the son of a brave man, himself the founder of his family. His name wasGiaco Attendolo,and his father a labourer; and the young man, though, from feelings of duty to his family, he pursued the like toil, was often distracted from his occupation by a feeling which might be a presentiment of future fortunes, that his place of exertion was elsewhere. One day, while employed in cutting copsewood, he heard the sound of military music proceeding from a troop of soldiers advancing along the high road which bounded his father’s field, and his old longings and hesitation returned upon him. With something of the superstition of his time, he resolved that a presage should decide on his destiny, and turning his face towards an oak tree, which grew at no inconsiderable distance, and towered among the bushes old and mighty, he flung his hatchet against its trunk: “If it falls harmless,†he said, “my arm shall be that of a peasant still; if it pierces to the core, I am a soldier!†Hurled with his whole force, the axe cut through the bark, and sank deep into the tree, andAttendolo,casting one glance where it lay buried in the stem of the old oak, sprang from the place where he stood, and among the ranks of the soldiers: “My strength has decided myfate,†he exclaimed, “you may call me Sforza.â€
Received as one of their band, his impetuosity and courage, which suffered no counsel, and was stopped by no resistance, soon confirmed a name which became that of his family. It was an epoch for military talent, and Sforza in a short time was of the chief of thecondottieriwho sold their service to those states whose gold was most plenty, and commanded a thousand horsemen.
In the year 1414, he conducted his army to Naples, and obtained honours and employment from Jane the Second, queen of Naples, but when James of Bourbon,comte de la Marche,her husband, less patient than she had expected, seized on her low-born loverAlopo,and condemned him to die in torments, Sforza was flung into a dungeon, where he remained a year, during which period the queen was captive also, and watched unceasingly by an old French knight, who was her gaoler.
A popular disturbance, occasioned by Neapolitan indignation, at length freed the sovereign. James, whose day of power was over, as he supported impatiently the influence of the queen’s new favouriteCaraccioli,was arrested in turn, and though at the pope’s intercession he recovered his liberty, he thought fit to make his escape from the palace, and flytoTarento,with the intent of stirring to insurrection the southern provinces. Besieged there, and losing all hopes of reigning at Naples, he returned to France and exchanged his kingly robes for the habit of St. Francis in the convent ofSte. Claire of Besançon,where he died.
Towns, fortresses, and fiefs of importance, rewarded Sforza’s fidelity; his soldiers were more devoted to him than ever before adventurers had been to acondottiere.He had summoned his relatives around him, men, like himself, reared in fatigues and hardships, and who made a ring of gallant and devoted followers about his person. His rival in the same career, one whose glory and genius equalled his own, was thecondottiere Forte Braccio, and in almost every occasion in which their forces took different sides, Sforza’s had the disadvantage. When, after having long served Queen Jane, he was won over by Pope Martin the Fifth to quit her defence for that ofLouis of Anjou,opposed toBracciohe lost almost the whole of his army. Throwing himself on his generosity, he rode to the camp with fifteen unarmed horsemen, and asked his interest with Queen Jane, whose soldier he was determined to be once more. Forgetting their long rivalry, the two captains repaired to her court, where Jane received Sforza andnamed him lord high constable. Soon after, she commanded him to oppose his forces to those of her adopted son, Alfonso of Arragon, to whose partyBracciohad remained attached. Thus, though unwillingly, they became foes again; and Sforza, having forced Alfonso to abandon Naples, marched to deliver the town ofAquila,besieged byBraccio.The 4th of January, 1424, he arrived on the shores of the riverPescara. Braccio’stroops, which occupied the town of the same name, had defended its banks with palisades.
Determined to ford it, though at the very mouth, armed, and wearing his helmet, Sforza first spurred his horse into the water, traversed it at the head of four hundred men at arms, and dislodged the enemy; but the remainder of his forces having failed to follow, he swam his charger back to seek them.
Crossing for the third time, on his return to the attack, when about half way over, he saw one of his young pages, whom the strength of the current was about to bear away, and stooping suddenly over his horse to seize and save him, himself lost his balance, and sank; the weight of his armour preventing him from swimming, and even rendering it impossible to recover his drowned body. He was the ablest and most intrepid of Italian warriors. Of his posterity all lived and died obscurely,saving the illegitimate son, who was duke of Milan, Francis Sforza.
We have lingered perhaps too long for your patience in theCastello;and the Arena, which, entering Milan by theArco del Sempione,or Della Pace, as it is now called, is on the left hand, is worth a visit. We walked there last evening: the principal entrance also gives access to thePulvinare,a fine building, which contains a spacious hall and commodious chambers, arranged for the reception of the court on the occasion of a gala. A broad stair conducts to the former, whose columns of red granite face the amphitheatre to which descend its granite steps, the place assigned to the viceroy and dignitaries of Milan, and covered with cushions and draperies when so honoured. The seats which surround this amphitheatre, capable of containing thirty thousand persons, are covered with green turf, and rise, range above range, up the sloping sides to the level, which forms a pleasant walk under orange and taller trees. There is a rivulet which fills the space with water, when, instead of the races usually held here, the exhibition is to be nautical. A grand fête will take place in a few days with a show of fireworks, our host says unparalleled! but the rain, which to-day has fallen in torrents, seems disinclined to give place to them, and willprepare unpleasantly the green sofas of the audience. Notwithstanding the weather, we visited the sixteen Corinthian columns, which in this ancient city are the sole vestige of Roman grandeur; thirty-three Paris inches in diameter, they are ten diameters in height, and are believed to have stood in the exterior vestibule of baths dedicated to Hercules, and restored by the Emperor Maximilian. From their proximity to the church of San Lorenzo, they are called by its name; they stand majestic and isolated, and spite the care bestowed on their preservation, gradually crumbling to decay. The rain continues as I have seldom seen it fall elsewhere, and as it falls here sometimes for a fortnight uninterruptedly, so says our host in consolation; I did not expect to dine at Milan, and at two in the afternoon, by candlelight; yet this has happened to us twice, (when we chose that hour, hoping the fog would yield to a fine evening, which it did not,) in the large room, with its three high windows looking on the opposite wall, which resembles the deserted refectory of a convent. To-morrow, 1st of October, we hope to leave on our way to Lodi.