The towers of Asinelli and Garisenda, which serve us for landmarks in our perambulations, are at the gate of Ravignana, and at no great distance from the Piazza Maggiore. They are remarkable for their bending position: the first, towards the west, is but five feet out of the perpendicular; it was built in 1109, and is three hundred and seven feet high. The last is in height but one hundred and forty-four feet from the ground, but its inclination towards the east is far more considerable. It was built about a hundred years later, and its threatening and most awful position has remained unchanged since the sinking of the foundation first caused it.
We went to San Ignace, which was formerly the convent of the Jesuits’ Noviciate, now the Accademmia delle Belli Arti, and I saw in its handsome salles many fine pictures, the most celebrated being Raphael’s St. Cecilia, and in which, though beautiful, I was disappointed. I believe it suffered repair when it came to Paris, then was repainted the sky, which now starts from the canvass, before the heads of which it is the back ground. You would have smiled to see the man who came when we rang for admittance, these halls being open to the public except on festivals. We asked if entrance were possible to view the St. Cecilia. “Possibile, si!” he answered; “ma sa ella che questa sia festa?” and held the door close, fearing we should pass him without agreement made; but I said, “Capisco.” And he then threw it wide, and when he came out again, stood bowing with hands outspread.
We had been employed in making a few purchases: for, notwithstanding that in every town, Milan included, I have visited and questioned the speditori, of our baggage we have heard nothing since the day it quitted Vevay to precede us in Italy. Whether it has crossed the Simplon, or is domiciliated in its torrents, remains unknown to me, and the linen contained in our valises at present constitutes our wardrobe.
We made the tour of most of the churches, the cathedral among the rest, which is modern and glaring, but owns the last fresco of Louis Carracci. The church of the Dominicans contains the tomb of King Enzio, or Hensius; and the old church of San Stefano, the only antiquity whose existence is certain in Bologna, and thought to have been a temple dedicated to Isis. Though this is the 7th of October, the heat continues excessive, and the arcades, which exclude the sun by day, also prevent the free circulation of air at night. The stifling and ill-scented streets make bad promenades; and the dirt of the population of Bologna passes description. We walked into San Petronio this evening: it was decorated for the festival, and the altar, a blaze of wax-lights, contrasted with the gloom of the spacious aisles. The priests, in their rich robes, moving before, and the multitude kneeling on the pavement, had a fine and solemn effect; but the infected atmosphere made it impossible to stay more than a few moments within the curtain which falls before the entrance. On our return to La Pace, and as I walked along the broad and dimly-lighted corridor on which the apartments open, I saw it was occupied by a party, and forth from it issued our poor dwarf facchinoo in the best coat of which he had spoken, and a new capacity: for he said this was his own band, and its music, he being one of the performers, was certainly delightful.
We expected letters to-day, but were disappointed, and the kind-hearted landlady, fancying my anxiety proceeded from some mistake in the forwarding of our funds, begged very earnestly that her bill might remain unpaid till our return from Florence. She regrets her own country, though she has stayed here long enough to lose its accent. Her Italian rivals strive to ruin her, a laudable purpose in which they generally succeed, against the French interloper who comes within their circle with civility and better accommodation.
They are a strange compound of ferocity and cowardice, these papal vassals. They bring to my mind an anecdote told me of their brethren at Ancona, by our friend Capt. de V——l, whose conduct at Lyons I mentioned to you, and I write it here, as a story of the pope’s troops will not be misplaced at Bologna. I give it you in almost his own words, as he was present there at the time:—
The Conte P——i commanded a battalion of infantry quartered in the lazzeretto of Ancona, which is a building of considerable size, and easy to defend, as the sea surrounds it. When the 66th took during the night possession of the town, the lazzeretto, the pontifical battalion, and the quiet commandant, were all three forgotten. In the morning, enraged at the neglect, he angrily inquired whether the French general was aware of the presence of a battalion in the lazzeretto. “Very probably,” was the reply. “Allora,” said the Conte P——, “si vuole una capitulazione; perchè nella circostanza è cosa necessaria e militare! Sono comandante; la capitulazione la voglio, vado dunque a visitare il general Francese e la capitulazione si farà.”
Such being the Conte P——’s warlike views, he was escorted to the presence of Colonel Combes, who then commanded the 66th, and laughing heartily, willingly satisfied the military scruple of the gallant officer.
An anecdote of a different time, but of the papal troops also, animated by the same spirit, I must mention here:—After the revolution of —22 or —23, the Neapolitans, failing to prove their allegiance to their new government, yielded difficult passes it would have been easy to defend, retreating before the Austrian army, and continually defeated till their king was replaced on his throne. Asked why they had allowed themselves to be so easily conquered, they replied that their cannon had been taken. “Più non abbiamo canoni; e senza canoni che si può fare?”
It was shortly after the arrival of the French at Ancona, and in November, 1836, that the cholera broke out there, and believing it infectious as well as epidemic, the Italians had the barbarity to wall up the doors of the houses in which the first sufferers lay, introducing through the windows, and at the extremity of a pole, the food or medicine thought necessary. Our friend’s lodgings looked on the hospital, wherein, when the panic had in some measure subsided, the sick were admitted—to die—either from the virulence of the malady, or the measures adopted for its cure: for abstinence was so strictly practised, that many perished from starvation. Monsieur de V——l certifies, what would otherwise seem incredible, that of all carried within its walls one only issued forth alive. This was a strong, powerful man, who attacked with cholera, but to a slight degree, was borne to the hospital, and, laid in one of the beds, fell asleep,—and waking in the morning, refreshed and hungry, asked for food.