Cathedral Cities of Italy

by W. W. Collins

Experts disagree as to who was responsible for the fine monument which covers S. Augustine's remains. The body of the saint had been removed from Hippo, a suffragan see of Carthage, to Sardinia during the Arian persecutions. It rested there until Liutprand, the Lombard king, having purchased it, placed it in the church of S. Pietro in Cielo d'Oro; and when this church was destroyed it was conveyed to the cathedral. On certain festivals the silver casket, portions of which are the original, that contains the bones of the saint robed in full pontificals is removed from its usual position and hoisted up behind the tomb, so that the devout can mount a temporary wooden stair and look on all that is left of the great father.

A figure of the saint lies stretched on the sepulchral urn that usually holds the silver casket. This rests on the basement, or lowest, of the four tiers that compose the monument. Around it are figures of the lesser saints of his Order. Above are bas-reliefs of the chief events in his life and the miracles which after his death were performed in different places through his intercessions. The liberal arts, the cardinal virtues, and many symbols adorn the tomb, which is also decorated with statues of saints and angels, two hundred and ninety in all. They are extremely well executed and enhance the beauty of the design.

The church of S. Michele is a primitive structure and bears traces of being the precursor of all ecclesiastical edifices of the Lombard style of architecture. It was originally a basilica, but short transepts have been added and the roof, which is groined, is vaulted with stone. The oldest part of the church is the crypt, which is under the choir. This is probably the building, or part of it, in which Unulfus sought sanctuary in 661 when fleeing from King Grimoladus. Four compound piers in the nave are adorned with an extraordinary series of sphinxes, symbols, animals and other figures. The façade is decorated with reliefs in a richly coloured sandstone, and has a gabled gallery that is continued round the exterior as far as the apse.

The portals are covered with a profusion of very archaic imagery in which Pagan as well as Christian subjects form most of the decoration. Sculptured bands of sandstone are placed in courses along the whole front and medallions let into the walls. These are very massively built of stone, and though restoration is evident throughout the church it still bears the impress of great age.

Sta. Maria del Carmine is a fourteenth-century building of Gothic design, and is one of the very best examples of brickwork in all Italy. The beautiful rose window of the west front and the three pointed doors with their well-moulded terra-cotta ornament could hardly be finer. Seven elegant pinnacles stand on the rather heavy cornice, forming a good set off to the campanile, which, surmounted by a brick spire, is a landmark in the district. The brick piers of the interior are exceptionally good; four squares constitute the nave, the arches of each carry simple groining. Two small lancet-shaped arches, out of all proportion with the massive brick piers that support them, open into the aisles. They have double capitals, the upper being of stone, the lower of carved brick.

In the ruined church of S. Pietro in Cielo d'Oro stood the tomb of Boethius, who under Theodoric held high office in the state. Boethius was executed in Pavia after a long and rigorous confinement in the Casa Malsap ina, during which he wrote his incomparable "Consolations of Philosophy." This work was translated into many languages and was one of the most widely known treatises in the Middle Ages. Alfred the Great translated it into Saxon. Another connection with England exists through Archbishop Lanfranc who accompanied William the Conqueror across the sea and was made prelate of Canterbury. The district round Pavia is not healthy, a condition due probably to the intricate system of irrigation by which the pastures are kept green with a rank-growing grass. Between Pavia, Piacenza and Lodi—a triangle with the last-named at the northern point—lies the country which yields the best Parmesan cheese. The fields are of three kinds, those nearly always under water, those irrigated, and those used for rotation crops. The cattle that are utilised for cheese-making are mostly Swiss bred, and being valuable are well looked after. They are stalled at sundown in the buildings attached to the great farms, where farmhouse, cottages, barns and stables are all enclosed within a high wall. The little rectangular patches of meadow on which they feed are enclosed by rows of poplars or willows which make the landscape very monotonous. In winter a dense fog often shrouds the countryside and a deadly chill pervades the atmosphere, while the humidity of summer, when the sun draws the moisture from the soaking earth, is very enervating.

BERGAMO

WHEN October comes in its yearly round and the autumn afternoons close in, it is sometimes good to sit idly outside a caffè with the pernicious cigarette and ruminate on the glories of a past summer—better this than to hustle up the street a sight-seeing. A hot day was ending and the Bergamo of mediæval times towered above the haze of a sun-baked land and the smoke that curled upwards in thin wreaths from the city below. "La Città Alta" thus raised its head proudly against the copper-coloured sky, thrusting its bulwarks to the edge of one of the last spurs of the Alps that here creep down on to the plain. What a grand prospect from the shady boulevard on those ramparts which encircle the old fortress! The sun has not yet set; beneath lies the Borgo S. Leonardo, the lower city, a busy place with factory chimneys on its outskirts; beyond, a sea of verdure, cut by lines of tall poplars and here and there a slender campanile, stretches away over Lombardy until lost in the haze past the towers and domes of Monza, Cremona, and distant Milan.

There is something very fascinating in the quiet and exclusive old city. Its streets are steep and narrow, its houses seem to rake the sky, the rattle of wheels does not often disturb the aristocratic silence, a silence accentuated tenfold when one has left behind its busy plebeian partner on the plain below, and whisked upwards by the funicular, found oneself suddenly amidst high walls. Great spaces of faced stone are these walls, pierced by tiny windows, almost forbidding in their austerity; and though glimpses of foliage and flowering creepers break through, the pervading air is one of mystery and intrigue.