At noon, on the following day, we reached Bologna, where two of our passengers left us for Ferrara. Our remaining companions were an old gentleman with a young wife, returning home to Piacenza; he was a captain in the army of the Dutchess of Parma. Bologna impressed us as a dull, although a fine, city. We ascended to the top of a brick tower, from whence there is a commanding view of the country, with the Apennines forming a fine bold feature on one side, and the plains of Lombardy on the other. This tower, built by the family of Givelli, and said to be three hundred and sixty-five feet in height, is mounted by a wooden staircase of four hundred and fifty steps; the whole in so ruinous a state, that it was scarcely safe to ascend it. One would almost wonder that so large a structure should not have been thought worthy of a stone, or even marble, staircase, in a country where the latter material is so plentiful.
Within the entrance we found a shoemaker at work, who said he had the care of the building; an office, however, of which it seemed difficult to conceive the duties, unless, indeed, it was to prevent persons from attempting to ascend the tower. We had not time to visit the churches and paintings in this fine town.
On quitting Bologna, we travelled along a nearly level road shaded with rows of trees, and which convinced us that we had entered upon the plains of Lombardy.
In the evening, we arrived at Salmogie, a solitary house, where they regaled us with an excellent supper and wines; amongst other dainties, we were treated with Bologna sausages, and certainly thought them very fine, although, in general, I am not partial to salmagundi messes. It occurred to me, whether salmagundi might not be a corruption of the name of this house, which is famous for these sausages, and which are nothing more than salmagundi enclosed in a skin; great quantities of them are purchased by travellers, as well as sent to Bologna, and other neighbouring towns.
After leaving Salmogie, we passed from the popes territories into those of the Duke of Modena. We only stopped at the city of Modena long enough to shew them our passports and natural faces, nor did we purchase any masks to conceal them in, notwithstanding the place is very famous for the manufacture of such articles. We breakfasted at Reggio, after a journey of twenty miles from Salmogie. This city was once of importance, and still of considerable size, although it appeared partly deserted. Towards noon, the weather gave indications of an approaching storm, which came on shortly after three o’clock, with heavy rain, thunder, and lightning; but it was not of long duration, and was succeeded by a very fine evening.
At six o’clock, we entered the states of the unfortunate Maria Louisa, dutchess of Parma, where the custom-house officers accepted a small fee, to exempt us from the trouble of examining our baggage.
In little more than an hour after this, we arrived at the city of Parma, where, during the preparation for our supper, we visited the cathedral, at this time under repair; the evening was too far advanced to enable my friend to see the paintings of the cupola executed by Correggio, who was a native of this place; from thence, we bent our steps to the palace of the dutchess, a large mean looking structure, with nothing like the magnificence of a royal residence about it. It was much surpassed in respectability of appearance by some of the neighbouring buildings. The unhappy Maria Louisa had been a leading subject of our thoughts and conversation since we left Florence, and every thing we are able to glean from our companions, and other sources, contributed to inspire a more than ordinary degree of sympathy and commiseration for her misfortunes. The lines of Lord Byron did not fail to recur to our imagination.
“And she proud Austria’s mournful flower,
Thy still imperial bride,
How bears her breast the torturing hour?