CHAPTER XXI.ToC

"Europe's bulwarks against the Ottomite"?

Among our pleasantest days in Venice must rank that on which we took steamer to Lido, one of the narrow islands lying between the Adriatic Sea and the lagoon of Venice, which acts as a kind of natural breakwater to Venice. It was quite a treat to set foot onterra firmaonce more, for here we did find real land, and at least a horse and carriage to convey us if needed.

The public gardens on the Lido were a gift to the Venetians from Bonaparte, who pulled down a great many buildings, not even sparing those which were consecrated, in order to give them a public promenade. It was laid out in 1810 by Giannantino Selna, and though nothing very grand, affords real delight and refreshment to the people, who enjoy many a frolicsome dance here on summer nights. We had our luncheon outside theCafé, where we enjoyed the sight of the bright waves which tumbled in so briskly at our feet, and the breath of the fresh breeze which blew off the Adriatic Sea facing us. After our brief rest, we had a glorious walk on the sandy shore, where "little trembling grasses" grewon the edges of the sea, and shells lay scattered about in infinite profusion and variety. Our spirits rose with the invigorating freshness of the scene, and we returned to Venice by the evening steamer as delighted as children, with handkerchiefs full of sea-shore treasures.

We also made an interesting expedition one morning to the Venetian Glass and Mosaic Works on the Grand Canal. We here saw how the beautiful mosaics are designed and adjusted, and how the delicate, rainbow-tinted glass is blown and spun into any imaginable design one might desire. I brought away a fanciful little souvenir in the shape of a large head or top of a pin, on which my initials appeared in divers colours, interwoven with flowers by the intelligent workman.

We visited several palaces and churches, but found nothing of particular interest save some very beautiful silk tapestry, studded with precious stones, which covered the altar in the church of the Jesuits.

I do not think I should care to spend a very long period in the moated imprisonment of the Sun-girt City, especially during the summer, when canal malaria and fever is rife; and should certainly never think, like Shelley, of forming any plans "never to leave sweet Venice." I must, however, confess that for a certain time there is an irresistible attraction and fascination in the unique kind of life one is forced to lead here. The evenings are peculiarly enjoyable. The light blue sky of day deepens gradually through twilight intonight; the stars shine out of its soft depths with a brilliant though cold effulgence, reflected glimmeringly in the surrounding waters, which flow in quiet stillness on every side. There is nothing around to disturb the silent eloquence of night, and the flow of thought and meditation.

After a long and tiring day of sight-seeing, and a re-invigorating dinner at the hotel, it is deliciously Venetian to rest in the evening, with windows open to the star-lit skies, and listen to the sweet serenading of a boatful of singers, who float on the waters near the hotel till a late hour at night, their gondola prettily illuminated with coloured lamps, and the soft liquid sound of their voices filling the air with melody.

The great place of resort is thePiazza of St. Mark's. Here, sipping our coffee and ices at Florian's, and listening to a good band of music, we saw a little of Venetian society, and had an opportunity of admiring some of the beautiful and dignified patrician dames of the city, who otherwise were scarcely ever visible. It was decidedly disappointing to find they had almost invariably discarded the graceful and becoming lace head-dress and mantilla, and adopted the French costume. We were much pleased and amused at the gaily dressed nurses, who, with their quaint silver head-dresses, and broad streaming ribbons, looked so good tempered, and showed such pride and pleasure in the lovely dark-eyed babes they carried; and we always looked out for the beautiful and picturesquely attired flower-seller, who presentedher tiny bouquet with so charming a grace, and further bestowed a sweet smile on us in return for our franc. Flocks of the soft-plumed and ever-hungry St. Mark's pigeons would greet us, espying us from afar, circling round and almost burying us in their midst, delighted to perch on our hands and peck the grain we brought to throw them.

There was always a busy and moving scene in the adjoining piazzetta; swarms of gondolas awaiting your pleasure, under the gay sunlit skies, the gondoliers shouting, "Gon-dola!gon-dola!" in almost ceaseless strain. It is a good plan, when going on an excursion, to carefully select your gondola the night before. After breakfast, you will find it awaiting you handsomely decorated, its owner smartly dressed, Venetian sailor fashion, with blue and silver scarf; and, taking with you a basket of good things in the way of refreshments, away you glide for a day's genuine pleasure.

I am afraid the romance of the gondola days will be sadly invaded by the number of little "Citizen" steamers, which ply from pier to pier; but, as they will necessarily be confined to the traffic of the Grand Canal, the smaller canals will still be sacred to the sombre, silent gondola.

The day of our departure at last drew near, and we felt we must bid a reluctant farewell to—

"The marble city by the silent sea."

On the whole we had not found it a very dear place. The charges at Danieli's were moderate, and the hireof gondolas far cheaper than carriages elsewhere. There is also far less inducement to spend money than at Florence, Rome, and other places, for the shops are in a decided minority, and sight-seeing the order of the day. We spent our last evening in storing up in our minds all the pleasant memories of the past week, and—

"The following morning, urged by our affairs,We left bright Venice."

Leaving Venice—Hervey's Lament—Sceneryen route—Padua—Associations of the past—A brief history of Padua, and the House of Carrara—General appearance of the town—Giotto's Chapel—His beautiful frescoes—Character of Giotto's work—The Cathedral—Palazzo della Ragione—The Wooden Horse—St. Antonio—The Hermitage—The Fallen Angels—The University and its students—Ladies of Padua—Situation of the city—An old bridge—Climate.

The silvery-voiced bells of Venice chimed sweetly over the waters as we left her, bidding us a tender farewell, almost reproachful that we could leave her so soon. Siren-like, she would fain entice us to remain with her, but the old charm-power has departed with her past glory; and we echoed Hervey's beautiful lament as we watched her domes and minarets disappear slowly one by one in the distance.

"And where art thou, with all thy songs and smiles,Thou dream-like city of the hundred isles—Thy marble columns, and thy princely halls,Thy merry masques and moonlight carnivals,Thy weeping myrtles and thy orange bowers,Thy lulling fountains 'mid ambrosial flowers,The cloudless beauty of thy deep blue skies,Thy starlight serenades to ladies' eyes,Thy lion, looking o'er the Adrian sea,Defiance to the world and power to thee?That pageant of the sunny waves is gone,Her glory lives on memory's page alone;[265]It flashes still in Shakespeare's living lay,And Otway's song has snatched it from decay.But ah! her Chian steeds of brass no moreShall lord it proudly over sea and shore;Nor ducal sovereigns launch upon the tide,To win the Adriatic for their bride!Hushed is the music of her gondoliers,And fled the glory of a thousand years;And Tasso's spirit round her seems to sighIn every Adrian gale that wanders by!"

The journey to Padua is over a level, well-cultivated, and fertile plain, intersected by many small canals. To the north, and on the left, the snow-capped Tyrolese Alps form a grand relief to the monotony of the surrounding country.

Padua is now a very quiet unimportant little city, with only about forty-five thousand inhabitants; and very greatly changed from the time when it was so justly famed for its University.

"In thine halls, the lamp of learningPadua, now no more is burning;* * * * * *Once remotest nations cameTo adore that sacred flame."

When Galileo, Fallopius, Fabricius, and other celebrated men were professors at this university, it could boast of numerous students from all parts of the world: Tasso and Columbus were educated here. Shakespeare bears witness to the respect in which its learned doctors were held, in his immortal "Merchant of Venice."

Livy was born here 50B.C., dying in hisseventy-sixth year. He is supposed to be buried here, and his tomb is shown; but that his bones lie beneath the stones is certainly like too many things in Italy—a fable. Here, by-the-by, also dwelt the shrewish Katharina—

"Renown'd in Padua, for her scolding tongue."

Padua, once Patavium, is of very ancient date, and is said to owe its origin to Antenor, the brother of Priam, King of Troy. Dryden, in his translation of Virgil, says—

"Antenor founded Padua's happy seat,And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;There fixed his arms, and there renewed their name,And there in quiet rules; and crown'd with fame."

"In 452 Padua suffered severely from the invasion of Attila; and in 601 was burnt by Agilulf, King of the Longobards. In the Middle Ages it was one of the towns which struggled most successfully against the Imperial rule. In 1164 it joined the Lombardy league, and instituted its free government. The town was then extended, and the Palazzo della Ragione built. In 1222 the University of Padua was founded, in consequence of the dissolution of that at Bologna. As a Guelphic city, Padua fought against the detested tyrant Eccelino; and upon his fall, in 1259, the town rose to great power. This time was marked by the building of the grand Church of St. Antonio.... In 1337 Marsiglio da Carrara became an independent prince. The Palazzo dei Princepili was built, and the town greatly adorned under his government.His successor, Marsiglietti Papafava, was murdered by Jacopo da Carrara (the friend of Petrarch), who was in his turn murdered in 1350, after which his brother Jacopino ruled five years. He was succeeded by his nephew, Francesco da Carrara, who was celebrated for his wars against the Venetians, and afterwards against the Milanese under the Visconti. An alliance between Venice and Milan ended in the total defeat of the Paduans in 1388, and the temporary fall of the House of Carrara. The story of the imprisonment and after adventures of the Carraras is one of the most romantic of the Middle Ages. Francesco Novello da Carrara and his devoted wife, Taddea d'Este, escaped from the castle where they were immured by the Visconti, and after a series of almost incredible adventures they reached Florence. With assistance obtained from Bologna and Fruili, Francesco once more presented himself before his native town, with a banner bearing the arms of the House of Carrara. He called upon the Milanese governor to surrender, and was received with derision; but he swam the Brenta by night, crept into the town, and was welcomed with joy by the citizens, who rose suddenly and successfully against the Milanese, and proclaimed Francesco Novello sovereign lord of Padua on Sept. 8th, 1390. He ruled till 1405, when a succession of wars with the Visconti and Venice ended in the treacherous capture of the town by the Venetians. Then brave Francesco Novello da Carrara and his sons were strangled, after having enduredimprisonment in a cage eight feet long by twelve feet broad. Henceforth Padua shared the fortunes of Venice."

For this brief historical account I am indebted to Mr. Augustus Hare, who has written so ably on the Northern and Central cities of Italy.

As we intended to resume our journey and reach Verona the same evening, we only remained in Padua a few hours. We put up at the Croce d'Oro, where we found such comfortable quarters, that we almost regretted our visit was to be so short. However, there was a decided air of melancholy about the old city; the narrow streets with their arcaded walks were unnaturally silent. These arcades afford shelter from both the sun and rain, and one finds but little use for the English umbrella. The walks are sometimes bordered by chestnut trees, and there are pleasant gardens surrounding the quaint and noble old palaces. In Italy every residence with an entrance for carriages is entitled a palace palazzo.

Not far from our hotel is the Church of S. Maria dell' Arnea, so called from its standing near the ruins of an old Roman amphitheatre. It is a plain Gothic building, designed by Giotto when quite young, and contains his wonderful frescoes. Dante was living with him at this time.

The interior of the church—often called Giotto's Chapel—is somewhat cold and bare at first sight; but the beauty of the paintings, which are in a very fair state of preservation, considering their age,speedily dispels this idea. The frescoes represent the history of the Virgin from the rejection of Joachim's sacrifice to Mary's bridal procession. Ruskin says, "It can hardly be doubted that Giotto had a peculiar pleasure in dwelling on the circumstances of the shepherd life of the father of the Virgin, owing to its resemblance to that of his own early years."

The Annunciation, the birth, and youth of the Saviour, and the events of His ministry up to His driving the money-changers from the Temple, form a second series; and afterwards the story of His passion and crucifixion. They are most tenderly and beautifully dealt with, conveying deep impressions of this painter's wonderful power, and the concentrated thought and labour he must have bestowed upon his work. There are also allegorical frescoes, representing very appropriately the virtues and vices. The female figures of this artist are singularly graceful.

"The works of Giotto," says a modern writer (Lindesay), "speak most feelingly to the heart in his own peculiar language of dramatic composition; he glances over creation with the eye of love, all the charities of life follow in his steps, and his thoughts are as the breath of the morning. A man of the world, living in it, and loving it, yet with a heart that it could not spoil nor wean from its allegiance to God—'non meno buon Christiano che excellenti pittore,' as Vasari emphatically describes him. His religion breathes of the free air of heaven rather than of thecloister; neither enthusiastic nor superstitious, but practical, manly, and healthy."

One needs go again and again to do full justice to this interesting church, but being exceedingly cold, it is difficult to avoid taking a chill. It is a great pity that all the churches throughout Italy are allowed to be so cold and damp, to the injury of the valuable works of art they contain.

We paid a hasty visit to the Cathedral, which claims Michael Angelo as its architect. Here we admired a beautiful missal in vellum, printed at Venice in 1498; it is full of miniatures. We also saw Rinaldo's bust of Petrarch, who was a Canon of this church.

The Piazza delle Erbe and the Piazza dei Frutti, the quaint-looking vegetable and fruit markets, are situate on either side of the Palazzo della Ragione, celebrated for its vast Hall, with great vaulted ceiling, said to be the largest in the world unsupported by pillars. It measures ninety-one yards in length and thirty in breadth, and is seventy-eight feet high. The inner walls are adorned with frescoes. At the end of the hall is a gigantic wooden horse, built in sections, supposed to have been the model of Donatello for his bronze statue of Gattamelata, or one of the horses of St Mark's at Venice. At one time it was covered with skin to resemble life.

We scarcely did more than catch a glimpse of that ugly pile St Antonio, where the bones of Padua's patron saint repose—the good St. Anthony.

In the Hermitage Church are the tombs of the Carrara family; and in the old Sacristry there is a very beautiful picture of St. John the Baptist, by Guido; also some frescoes and other paintings, but very much spoiled by the damp.

At the Palazzo Trente Papafava, through the kindness of its noble owner, we saw Fasolata's most beautiful piece of sculpture, the Fallen Angels. It is a solid block of white Carrara marble about five feet high, and represents the angels cast out from heaven, a group of sixty-five to seventy figures. "They are in all attitudes that the human form could take in such a headlong descent, and are so animated in appearance that they are almost flying. Each angel is separate from the rest, but the whole are twisted and twined together in a complicated manner, and are most exquisitely chiselled, even in the minutest part. The wonder is how the sculptor reached the inner portion of the group. The archangel Michael forms the top of the pyramid."

This wonderful and unique piece of statuary took Fasolata twelve years to accomplish; it was the first work he had ever done. He was afterwards induced to visit England in order to execute a similar piece, but he died, it is said, of home-sickness, poor fellow! I was greatly pleased to have seen this great work, which, I think, is one of the most beautiful and wonderful I have ever beheld. It is of priceless value.

In this palace are also Damini's frescoes.

We regretted we had not time to visit theuniversity, which as late as 1864 had over a thousand students. Howells, writing some years ago, says, "They were to be met everywhere; one could not be mistaken with the blended air of pirate and dandy these studious young men assumed. They were to be seen a good deal on the promenade outside the walls, where the Paduan ladies are driven in their carriages in the afternoon, and where one sees the blood horses and fine equipages for which Padua is famous."

Talking of ladies, I noticed with pleasure that all the women in this town wore the graceful and picturesque lace head-dress of the country, which I thought significant of their conservative good sense.

Padua is situated near the junction of the rivers Brenta and Bacchiglione, amidst gardens and vineyards; behind rise the Euganean Hills, among which Shelley wrote his beautiful "Lines":

"Beneath is spread like a green seaThe waveless plain of Lombardy,Bounded by the vaporous air,Islanded by cities fair;* * * * * *Many-domed Padua proudStands, a peopled solitude,'Mid the harvest shining plain,Where the peasant heaps his grainIn the garner of his foe,And the milk-white oxen slowWith the purple vintage strainHeap'd upon the creaking wain."

We crossed an old bridge, on which was the following inscription:—

"Here Novello da Carrara with forty-two hero friends went downthe stream, attacked the bridge, routed the Visconti; and in glad triumph was received again by the people as their lord. June 19, 1390."

Padua is considered a healthy place for invalids, and many, are ordered thither from other Italian towns. The cost of living is, I believe, more moderate than in any other city of Northern Italy.

The people complained bitterly of the cold and unseasonable weather they had experienced; and more especially of the incessant rains and destructive inundation of the winter of 1882.

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 Rhœtians and Euganeans. It was made a Roman colony about the yearB.C.89. It has been the birthplace of many of Italy's brightest geniuses—Catullus, the special poet ofVerona, 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 hadto 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 citizensCast by their grave beseeming ornamentsTo 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 baseof 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?[278]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 lowerportion 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 toleave 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 belongTo 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 sleepsThe 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 alittle 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 theAssumption, 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 aDead Christ, byPaul Veronese, one of his best works. Santa Maria della Vittoria contains aDescent 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 thecafésloungers sipped their chocolate and smoked their cigarettes. The city laybefore 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 withcafésand 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 shortsojourn 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.

Arrival in Milan—Railway station—Tram carriages—History and present condition—The Cathedral—Irreverence of Italian Priests—The Ambrosian Liturgy—Sunday school—S. Carlo Borromeo—Relics—A frozen flower-garden—View from the tower.

Arriving at Milan shortly before dusk, we drove at once to the Hotel de France, where we had been assured we should find cleanliness and moderate charges. It is very conveniently situated at the head of the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele, near the Cathedral, and it was certainly cleanly; but if I ever go to Milan again, I should give the Hotel de la Ville the preference.

Catching a glimpse of the public gardens on our way, and passing up some of the principal streets, we saw something of the greatness and attractiveness of the city. The station is quite a busy terminus, like Euston, or the Midland—a fine building, and brilliantly lighted up at night by electricity, two lamps outside illuminating the park-like piazza. The tramway omnibuses (which are not propelled by steam, as at Florence), move about as briskly as in London; they are, however, more neatly and comfortably appointed than ours.

Milan, anciently called "La Grande," still looks like the capital of a great kingdom, although, like Turin, it has been deserted in favour of Rome. It has fine buildings, well-lighted streets, beautiful public gardens, and brilliant shops. It is, moreover, very clean for an Italian city, and gives the idea generally of wealth and progress, for it is full of gay and busy life; yet it is a small city in comparison with our own great capital, being only about seven miles in circumference, and with a population of 320,000. Owing to its central position in Lombardy, Milan has always been prosperous, and is one of the richest manufacturing towns in Italy, silk and woollen goods being the chief commodities. Since 1859, when it was incorporated into Italy, it has also risen to the first rank in the fine arts, and, I believe, has wonderfully progressed as an educational centre generally.

It must have been a proud and glorious day when, after the peace of Villafranca, Victor Emmanuel and the French Emperor, with the leaders of the allied armies, marched in triumph through Milan. Bouquets and garlands of flowers were strewed in their way; the wounded of both sides were brought in, and tenderly nursed by the Milanese ladies. It was Italy's first day of real free national life; she had at last cast off the oppressive yoke of Austria for ever! But she had still one other adversary to conquer—the enslaving Papal power; and this she also nobly accomplished a few years later, as all theworld knows. The Italians have a grateful remembrance of the sympathy shown and influence exerted by England at the time of their emancipation.

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