After five hours spent in Parma, we resumed the ultra-eternal Aemilian Way, and pursued it until long after dark, when we reached Fiorenzuola, where we found rest and comfort in a large homely inn; and we drank the Vin Santo, wine the colour of blood, but briskly pleasant, and not guilty of very intoxicating qualities.
The next morning, September 20th, we started in rain on another reach of the Way, which stretched through a country as level as it was straight. The weather brightened as we proceeded, and, when we reached Piacenza, allowed us a charming walk on the ramparts, akin to that which we enjoyed at Modena. In a flat and tame country, a grass-grown mound rising in regular circlet round a city wins the peculiar interest which some objects of little beauty inspire, by the speed with which the mind establishes a familiarity with them like old acquaintanceship ; it understands at once the refreshment which the inhabitants derive from the habitual perception of this lowly form of nature; and this feeling here had more in it of affection than at Modena, inasmuch as the ramparts were decaying ; gently mouldering into green like that which surmounted them; and the city wore the air of gentle desolation.
The Duomo, with its strangely adorned porches, its monstrous pedestals, and dark, yet gorgeous variety of architecture, is a striking Lombard church ; but the noblest sight in the city is the Piazza deCavalli, a long terrace before the Palazzo Publico. The old building above it, of great length, in various styles, its lower portion of atone, its higher of brick, but harmonised by time, which has wrought strongly upon it, has something of oriental grandeur ; and at each end of the terrace in front of it is a gigantic bronze statue, one representing the Duke Alexandro, the other his son, Ranuccio, both on horseback, each said to have been cast at one jet. When this terrace is
approached from the opposite street, which is very narrow, and is, therefore, at once disclosed, it is startling in its colossal majesty ; and, associated with the stillness around it and the touches of silent decay, appears a portion of some ancient capital, rescued, like the remains of Nineveh, from the oblivion of ages. Nothing among the Medicean glories of Florence so deeply impressed me as this terrace. After four hours of rest and sight-seeing at Piacenza, we proceeded to the bank of the Po,— which had been long marked out before us like the Rhine, by rows of poplars,—crossed it in heavy rain, and, after various custom-house and passport miseries, the chief object of which, however, was intelligible, we were permitted to sup and sleep at Lodi.
The next morning, September 20th, we started in rain on another reach of the Way, which stretched through a country as level as it was straight. The weather brightened as we proceeded, and, when we reached Piacenza, allowed us a charming walk on the ramparts, akin to that which we enjoyed at Modena. In a flat and tame country, a grass-grown mound rising in regular circlet round a city wins the peculiar interest which some objects of little beauty inspire, by the speed with which the mind establishes a familiarity with them like old acquaintanceship ; it understands at once the refreshment which the inhabitants derive from the habitual perception of this lowly form of nature; and this feeling here had more in it of affection than at Modena, inasmuch as the ramparts were decaying ; gently mouldering into green like that which surmounted them; and the city wore the air of gentle desolation.
The Duomo, with its strangely adorned porches, its monstrous pedestals, and dark, yet gorgeous variety of architecture, is a striking Lombard church ; but the noblest sight in the city is the Piazza deCavalli, a long terrace before the Palazzo Publico. The old building above it, of great length, in various styles, its lower portion of atone, its higher of brick, but harmonised by time, which has wrought strongly upon it, has something of oriental grandeur ; and at each end of the terrace in front of it is a gigantic bronze statue, one representing the Duke Alexandro, the other his son, Ranuccio, both on horseback, each said to have been cast at one jet. When this terrace is
approached from the opposite street, which is very narrow, and is, therefore, at once disclosed, it is startling in its colossal majesty ; and, associated with the stillness around it and the touches of silent decay, appears a portion of some ancient capital, rescued, like the remains of Nineveh, from the oblivion of ages. Nothing among the Medicean glories of Florence so deeply impressed me as this terrace. After four hours of rest and sight-seeing at Piacenza, we proceeded to the bank of the Po,— which had been long marked out before us like the Rhine, by rows of poplars,—crossed it in heavy rain, and, after various custom-house and passport miseries, the chief object of which, however, was intelligible, we were permitted to sup and sleep at Lodi.
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