Before leaving Tuscany, I passed a couple of days in revisiting Siena, from which place I wrote two years since on my way to Rome. It is accessible by railroad from Florence. Although dull it possesses much of interest, and its airy mountain location induces many to spend a part of the summer in it. Its delicious water, from a fountain constructed in the year 1193, and famous for its quantity and quality, is spoken of by Dante, in his Inferno. The people, however, do not consider it the best substitute for their favorite wines, which they have been in some measure deprived of by the partial failure of the grape crop of late years; they look forward, however, to a good return season.
The cathedral, the position of which was once occupied by a temple dedicated to Minerva, is a masterpiece of Tuscan Gothic architecture, incrusted without and within with black and white marble, of the fifteenth century. Notwithstanding the eye may tire of gazing at churches and their contents, still this old edifice, constructed by the celebrated sculptors of Siena, will well bear re-examination, and the mosaic pavement, among the most celebrated in Italy, is a study in itself, consisting of sculptured history, the story of Moses, also that of Joshua, and the emblems of cities once in alliance with Siena; the elephant of Rome, with a castle on his back; the lions of Florence and Massa; the dragon of Pistoia; the hare of Pisa; the unicorn of Viterbo; the horse of Avezzo; the she-wolf of Siena, in memory of Romulus and Remus; and many other animals and armorial representations of the different cities and republics. Abraham’s intended sacrifice of his son is most esteemed. The art of description in mosaic as early as the fourteenth century, strikes many persons with surprise; but it appears from the pavement which I saw in one of the disinterred houses among the ruins of Pompeii, and which represented the battle of Darius with the Persians, that the art was known before Christ, Pompeii being buried by the irruption of Mount Vesuvius in the year 72. The painted glass of the year 1549, with the busts of all popes down to Alexander III., and some original frescoes of Raphael, are all well worth attention.
Some years since, coming to this city, I employed the Vetturino mode of conveyance, taking the mountain route, with the privilege of stopping when and where I pleased, with an agreeable party. For the first trip it was decidedly pleasant; we had a fine view from the summit of the Apennines, of the Adriatic and Mediterranean; now halting for a rest, or gratifying our curiosity; again strolling off to visit some remnant of antiquity, and passing the night in some solitary inn or obscure village; then came a scramble to the top of a hill called Monte di Fo. High up over the rocks there was a small volcano, some fifteen feet in circumference, disgorging its bright flames much to the satisfaction of some of our party, who had not yet climbed Vesuvius or Ætna, or seen Stromboli in a state of eruption. As we are apt to judge by comparison, I naturally looked at it as a small specimen of a volcano. Having since seen the burning mountains and craters of the Sandwich Islands, I was not ambitious to retrace my old route, so I took the railroad to the old city of Pistoia, with its wide, straight, and well-paved streets. It contains some objects worthy of notice, but appears dull for want of population; it was famous among the ancients for the defeat of Catiline, and in more modern times for the factions of the Guelphs and Ghibelines.
The country around is rich and fertile in the extreme, being amongst the best cultivated in Tuscany. At this season of flowers and early fruits, the hedges and climbing vines in festoons upon the trees, forming continuous arbors, present a gay and cheerful appearance.
From Pistoia, taking the coupé or front compartment of a diligence, in company with a French baron and his lady, and nine passengers inside and on top, besides a heavy load of baggage, with from four to seven horses, and a pair of oxen for the steepest ascent of the Apennines, we accomplished the distance of fifty-four miles in thirteen hours, along a most picturesque and romantic route, winding around the brink of precipices and upon the margin of mountain torrents, with their deafening roar, not apprehensive of avalanches of snow which I have sometimes dreaded in Switzerland; they have an occasional land slide here. We passed one spot, in particular, where twenty-four persons lost their lives.
Crossing the frontier into the Papal States, we had, at the first custom-house, the usual scenes, such as I described to you two years since, in going south; also swarms of beggars, blind, halt, and lame, affording an opportunity of disposing of small coin, no longer of use in the adjoining territory.
Descending the mountain, following the course of the river Reno through a beautiful valley, the road lined with the tall poplars of Lombardy, we arrive at Bologna, the second city in size, and first in commercial importance, of the sovereign Pontiff Pius IX.; it is pleasantly situated upon the river just named, and famous for other things besides its sausages. History reports its existence, under the name of Felsina, as an Etruscan town, previous to its capture by the Boii, who changed its name to Boina, and in time converted to Bologna. 653 B.C. it received a Roman colony, but suffered by civil war; it was restored by Augustus after the battle of Actium, and afterwards became one of the most powerful cities of Italy.
It is now commercial, with a population of seventy thousand. It is the most remarkable city for porticoes I have ever seen. It is rainy to-day, but you may walk for miles without an umbrella. About three miles from the city, on the summit of a hill, is the church of the Madonna, the ascent to which is fatiguing; it has a continuous arcade, containing six hundred and forty columns, constructed at the expense of different ecclesiastical establishments, and the bequests of the rich. We went up the carriage road in our vehicle, putting in advance of the horses a pair of oxen. From the summit is a vast and extensive view of the neighboring mountains, the extended valley, and the city, almost at our feet.
A curious old tower stands nearly in the centre of the city, called Asinelli, erected in 1109; it is said to be three hundred and twenty-seven feet high, and inclines four feet. Another, near by, built about the same time, is one hundred and forty feet in height, and inclines eight feet from the perpendicular. They are constructed of brick, and have been restored at different periods. A slight shock of an earthquake would tell a sad tale for the neighbors. A canal, or race, runs through the city with an abundance of water, supplying the mills. The Piazza del Duomo, or principal public square, upon which stands the venerable cathedral, the Government House, and other public buildings, has a noble but antique appearance. Here is a colossal statue of Neptune, in bronze, by the celebrated Giovanni of Bologna. This gigantic figure holds a trident, one foot rests upon a dolphin, and at the base of the four angles of the pedestal are seated four female figures, with their hands across their breasts, from which issue jets of water; their nether limbs, terminating in the form of fish, are seated upon huge dolphins, whose nostrils spout the liquid stream in the basin beneath. The Campo Santo, or burial ground, ordered by Napoleon in 1801, is interesting to visit.
Bologna boasts of giving birth to Guido, Domenichino, Annibale Caracci, and of course has a good gallery of paintings. Its anatomical collections, with the one in Florence, are the most curious and extensive in the world. Its university is supposed to have been founded by the Emperor Theodosius, in the year 425 of the Christian era; others say by the Countess Matilda, much later. It is said to have contained six thousand students once, and professors in proportion; its celebrity is not now so great. Some of the palaces are well worth seeing, for those who have not seen Italy generally.