LETTER LXXXIX.

(OUTE TO LODI--BANKS OF THE ADDA-DESCRIPTION OF THE BRIDGE-ARRIVAL AT MILAN---ASPECT OF THE CITYSKETCH OF THE CATHEDRAL--ARCHITECTURE-VIEW FROM THE CUPOLA--INTERIOR--TRADITION OF ST. AMBROSETOMB OF SAN CARLO BORROMEO CELEBRATION OF THE JUBILEE-PALACE OF THE VICEROY-REMINISCENCES OF NAPO

LEON.

September-October, 1826.—At 8 o'clock on the morning of the 29th, we set out for Milan, a distance of fifty-two niles. A severe battle was fought near the gate of Cremona, by the French under Napoleon. The walls, composed of pale brick, are fast reverting to their original elements. We entered upon a road so direct, that the eye could reach eight or ten miles ahead through rows of poplars, drawn up rank and file, with as much precision as an Austrian regiment. With all its fertility and exactness of tillage, Lombardy is a dull region to the traveller, in comparison with the romantic scenery in the south of Italy. The fields are intersected by ranges of willows, irrigated by canals, and appropriated to the culture of vines, Indian corn, wheat, rice, grass, and pasturage. Domestic animals are large and fat. Cows were frequently seen yoked in the

teams.

The

At Pizziglione we passed a strong fortress, defended by moats, draw-bridges, and triple walls. A low wooden bridge is here thrown across the Adda, which is a large and beautiful stream, rolling down with a strong bold current. complexion of the water is sea-green like the Mincio. the right bank is a long range of barracks, for the accommodation of the garrison upon the opposite shore..

On

At 5 P. M. we reached Lodi, and after securing lodgings for the night, hurried off to the Bridge over the Adda, the scene of the celebrated conflict between the French and Austrians. It is in the eastern part of the town, approached through a handsome gate, which bears the name of the river. The structure is of wood, built on piles, eight or ten feet

above the water. It is about seven hundred feet in length, and resembles a mole or cause-way. The Adda divides into three channels. That which washes the Lodi shore is tame and looks like a canal. A sandy island separates it from the central current, which sweeps down with grandeur, and roars among the timbers of the bridge. The cicerone informed us, that at the time of our visit it was ❝ four men deep;" though at certain seasons. it is so shoal, as to be fordable at short distances above and below a fact established by the incidents of the battle. A grassy alluvial ridge divides the main channel from another, bathing the eastern shore. The river is broad and smooth above the bridge, and a finely wooded island rises in the midst of the current. A hamlet stands upon the left bank. The scenery, embracing the Adda and its rural borders, the old fantastic bridge, and the towers of Lodi, is picturesque and interesting, independent of its associations.

Here on the 8th of May, 1796, was fought one of Napoleon's great battles, in which he commanded in person. It continued from noon till 3 o'clock. He was in the town, at the head of 40,000 troops. The Austrian army was posted on the eastern end of the bridge, the passage of which was thrice disputed, and thrice heaped with the dead. In the third attempt, the French succeeded in effecting a passage, though the enemy had decidedly the advantage in position. It was necessary for the former to pass a narrow gate, exposed to the raking fire of the Austrian artillery. Napoleon did not take an active part in the commencement of the action; but he was foremost in crossing the bridge, followed by Massena, Bernadotte, and Bertholet.

A statue of St. John stands upon the western end, near the Porta di Adda. He has been a soldier as well as a saint, and went through the battle, though he was prostrated at the first shot. To the historian and biographer I leave the detail of military movements, which had an important influence in deciding the fate of Italy. We remained upon the bridge till twilight. The scene now presented a striking contrast to the confused din of arms. Austrian soldiers were taking their evening promenade, with pipes in their mouths, instead of matches in their hands, ogling "the maids of Lodi," who crossed in platoons, with more colours flying, than were displayed by the French battalions.

On the 30th, we resumed our journey towards Milan, and

12 o'clock we reached the Roman Gate, which possesses uch architectural grandeur, being ornamented with double anges of Grecian columns. The officers who guard the ntrance were unusually polite, contenting themselves with moderate fee, without taking the trouble to examine our aggage. A ride on a bright day, along the spacious aveue, leading from the southern gate to the centre of the city, ined with stately buildings, paved like the Corso of Cremoa, with flags for the carriage wheels, furnished with broad ide-walks, and animated by a busy bustling crowd, gave us favourable impression of the capital of Lombardy, the Pais of Italy. Excellent accommodations were obtained for a week at the Hotel de Grande Bretagne, one of the handsomest palaces in the city, and the great rendezvous of travellers.

The Cathedral of Milan is the lion of the city and of the north of Italy, not excepting the lions of St. Mark's. Much as had been read and heard of this unique edifice, it far surpassed our expectations, and excited a lively interest, even after most of the splendid temples between the two extremes of Italy, had been examined. It stands upon the Piazza del Duomo, a spacious but irregular square, which Napoleon marked out for many improvements that have never been completed. The approach, the steps, the portico will bear no comparison with St. Peter's; but nothing can be more rich, more finished or beautiful, than this Gothic pile, which is composed entirely of the finest kind of white marble. Its form is that of a Latin cross, about five hundred feet in length, half as many in height, and three hundred in the widest part. It rises by three stages from the eaves to the highest point of the roof, so as to conform to the nave and four aisles of the interier. The top is crowned with something like four hundred pinnacles, of a peculiar structure; tall, slender, and delicate, filled with niches, and thronged with statues. Although the material in every point of the exterior was originally uniform, it has assumed different complexions, from the foundations upward, corresponding with the various periods it has been exposed to the weather; as the church has been several centuries in building, and is not yet completed. These lights and shades, harmonized and softened by age, are far from impairing the beauty of the edifice.

The architecture is of the most exquisite workmanship,

finished with as much exactness as the finest statue of Phidias or Canova. Even those parts, which are the least exposed, and which cannot be seen without the closest inspection, are wrought with as much precision, and as highly polished, as the most conspicuous ornaments of the interior. Much of the admiration and interest of the spectator arises from this circumstance. Nothing seems to be fashioned expressly for effect, but for models of intrinsic excellence, richness, and elegance. The statues of saints, which are sometimes poised and perched like skylarks upon the tops of the pinnacles, and at others peep from obscure niches in the rear of towers, are so finished as to fit them for a private gallery, and would not disgrace the chisel of Michael Angelo. They are without number, meeting the eye wheresoever it turns. Indeed, the whole Cathedral is little else than a congeries of ornaments, turrets, pinnacles, niches, statues, tracery, and fretwork of all descriptions.

We climbed to the top, through a winding tower composed of granite. The fee for the privilege of ascending is fixed at five sous a head, payable in advance to an officer stationed below at the receipt of custom. Though the price is low enough, it appeared to me a paltry business, better suited to the show of an elephant than of a Cathedral. Walks are extended all over the roof, and flights of white marble steps, furnished with banisters, mount from stage to stage, rendering the ascent both safe and easy. Over the centre of the cross, a Gothic tower, of the same material and workmanship as the pinnacles, rises perhaps two hundred feet above the rest of the church, and appears too fragile a fabric to support its own weight. A tedious flight of steps conducted us to a balcony, hung lightly in the air. Above our heads sat a circle of saints and angels, and still higher is poised a brazen statue of the Virgin, to whom the temple is dedicated, bearing the words "Virgini Nascenti" over the front door. our passage up the tower, we saw a medallion, on which the architect, who planned the building, is styled "divus" or divine, an epithet scarcely too extravagant. It was commenced in the 14th century, and workmen were observed yet em. ployed upon the roof, pecking with their hammers, and making slow progress in comparison with the despatch under the auspices of Napoleon, who nearly completed the work.

In

The balcony presents a glorious view of Milan and its environs. Here we bade farewell to the Apennines; a parting

at which my readers will probably feel less regret than myself, as these eternal mountains are visible from all parts of Italy, and must necessarily be often introduced in sketches of its scenery. The Alps, to which we were bound, rose to the north, and their wintry tops appeared by no means attractive. Between the two chains, the eye could trace the plains of Lombardy almost from sea to sea. The prospect of the hills about Lake Como was peculiarly grand and beautiful, presenting a chequered scene, as gleams of sunlight broke through the clouds, and fell upon green fields and white villages studding the landscape. Nearer the city, towers and steeples elevated themselves above the level expanse of a woody champaign. The suburbs are intersected by canals and broad avenues, diverging in all directions, and connecting Milan with the lakes on one side, and the Po on the other. Beneath us spread the city itself, the walls of which are nine miles in circumference, exhibiting many lofty gates, and encircling no ordinary share of castles, palaces, churches, hospitals, theatres, and other public edifices, with a population of 130,000. The streets and numerous squares were thronged with what from this height seemed a pigmy race, and with carriages no bigger than the nut-shell chariot of Queen Mab. We remained in the balcony till sunset, and saw the last golden beams of day fade upon the hundreds of pinnacles, producing a richness and harmony of colouring, which no pencil could reach and no pen describe. The white marble seemed almost to possess phosphoric properties, and emit the mellow tints of twilight, long after the adjacent buildings were gloomy and dark.

We visited the interior of the Cathedral daily and at all hours, during our stay at Milan. It contains a little world of wonders, which cannot, however, be compared with the miracle displayed in the architecture of the exterior. Two granite columns, four or five feet in diameter, and fifty feet in height, stand like giant sentinels, to guard the front door. The light is admitted through windows in the roof of the nave; and as the glass is stained yellow, tints of sunlight appear always to gild the fretted ceiling. But the golden hues are dimly reflected below, and the eye can scarcely reach from the entrance to the tribune, behind the high altar, where three other Gothic windows admit a feeble twilight. The pavement is horrible, being yet in an unfinished state, and composed partly of mosaic, and partly of rude brick.