“Have you seen the lake of Como?” said he.
“No,” I replied. “I should like to do so very much, but fear I cannot spare the time, as I have to be at Brindisi on the 21st.”
“But you must not leave,” said he, “until you have been there; it is only a run of thirty miles to Como by rail. I live there. Come to-morrow and visit me, and I will put you in the way of seeing Bologna in half the time that you would do it in without assistance.”
This very kind offer I accepted, and spent next day a very agreeable time with my new acquaintance, who was most hospitable and friendly. We parted with mutual protestations of goodwill, and I took train for Bologna, which is several hours’ ride from Milan.
Bologna (anciently Bonovia) is one of the oldest, largest, and richest cities of Italy. It lies at the foot of the Apennines, between the Rivers Reno and Savena, 190 miles N.N.W. from Rome. It is five or six miles in circumference, and is surrounded by an unfortified wall of brick; it has extensive manufactures of silk goods, velvet, artificial flowers, &c. It struck me as being a quaint old city. All the houses, or nearly so, are built out over the shops and pavement, supported by large pillars, and forming a covered way nearly all over the city which affords shade and shelter to the foot-passengers.
Bologna was long renowned for its university, founded, according to tradition, by Theodosias, the younger, in 425, and restored by Charlemagne, which, in the centuries of barbarism, spread the light of knowledge all over Europe. It once had 10,000 students, but the number now averages only 300. The university formerly possessed so much influence, that even the coins of the city bore its motto—Bonovia docet. During 1400 years every new discovery in science and the arts found patrons here. The medical school is celebrated for having introduced the dissection of human bodies, and the scientific journals prove that the love of investigation is still awake in Bologna. The chief square in the city, Piazza Maggiore, the forum in the Middle Ages, is adorned by several venerable buildings. Among them are the Palazzo Pubblico, which contains some magnificent halls, adorned with statues and paintings; Palazzo del Padesta, chiefly remarkable as having been the prison of Eugenis, King of Sardinia, and son of the Emperor Frederick II. who was captured and kept here by the Bolognese for more than twenty years, till his death; and the church or Ansilica of St. Petronio, which was commenced in 1390, and is not yet finished. The palaces and churches are too numerous to make any remarks on. The leaning towers, Degli Asmilli and Garisenda, dating from the twelfth century, are among the most remarkable objects in Bologna. The former is square, and of massive brick-work, built in three portions, and diminishing in diameter to the top. Its height is 321 feet, and its inclination from the perpendicular 6ft. 10in. The Garisenda is 161 feet high, and inclines a little more than 8 feet. Bologna has always been famous for cheap living, and has been chosen as a residence by many literary men. Gourmands praise it as the native country of excellent maccaroni, sausages, liquors, and preserved fruits. The pilgrimage to the Madonna di S. Lucca, whose church is situated at the foot of the Apennines, half a league distant from Bologna, and to which an arcade of 640 arches leads, annually attracts a great number of people from all parts of Italy. Bologna was founded by the Etruscans under the name of Felsina, before the foundation of Rome. In 189 B.C. it was made a Roman colony, and called Bonovia.
I had been told that the Certosa, or burying ground, was well worth a visit. It is about 2½ miles outside the city by the Porta St. Isaia, so I took a cab and was well rewarded for my trouble, for this burying ground is the most beautiful and remarkable in Italy. Here we can walk for hours under cover between rows of statues and marble tablets of the greatest beauty. When I returned to my hotel I found dinner waiting, and afterwards it struck me that I must seek some more exhilarating mode of amusement after my visit to the Certosa. I accordingly made my way to the Teatro Communale, one of the three best theatres in Italy, San Carlos at Naples and La Scala in Milan taking precedence. The opera was “Mefistofele,” splendidly mounted and well supported by artistes. The orchestra was large and all that could be desired by the most fastidious critics, and there are plenty of them in a Bolognese audience. Boxes are in every tier in the house, and the effect is very pretty.
As I had to start for Brindisi at 3 a.m. on Sunday, November 20th, I had not much time for sleep, notwithstanding which I got between the sheets until then, when I was conveyed to the station and finished my nap in the train.