CHAPTER XXII.

Journey from Padua--The great Quadrilateral--Historic Verona--Hotel due Torri--Recent inundations--Poetic Verona--House of the Capulets--Juliet's tomb--Streets and monuments--Cathedral--Roman amphitheatre--Shops--Veronese ladies--Departure--Romantic journey--Lake Garda--Disenzano--Brescia.

The route between Padua and Verona was not particularly interesting, until nearing the latter, when we were able to form some idea of the vastness of its military works. This city, combined with Peschiera, Mantua, and Legnano, formed the great Quadrilateral, which was considered impregnable, and from which it was supposed no army once shut in could ever escape without total defeat. During the last war of Italian Independence, when France was allied with Italy against Austria, the army of the latter country was here enclosed within its own strong fortress, and ultimately had to succumb, after which Verona in 1866 was restored to Italy.

The city of Verona is of very ancient date, having been founded by the Rhoetians and Euganeans. It was made a Roman colony about the year B.C. 89. It has been the birthplace of many of Italy's brightest geniuses--Catullus, the special poet of Verona, as Virgil was of Mantua, Cornelius Nepos, Æmilius Maca, Vitruvius, Pliny the younger, Scaliger, Sanmicheli, Paul Veronese; and it also possesses great historical interest, and many antiquities and remains of ancient buildings. It is still a considerable town, with some 60,000 inhabitants.

* * * * *

We arrived late in the evening, and drove at once to the Hotel Royal Barbesi (Due Torri), which I should fancy, in the palmy days of the city, was the grand hotel. At the present time it has a desolate, old-fashioned look about it, as though it had not kept pace with the times. It has a great courtyard open to the sky, round which the rooms range in storeys, very cold and dimly lighted. However, when the somewhat elderly chambermaid brought candles and hot water, and the waiter lit up the dining-room, things began to have a more cheery appearance, and we sat down to our very late dinner, feeling more comfortable. The head waiter became quite animated, and, after a little difficulty, induced the Dutch stove to give out some warmth. I ceased to wonder at the desolate appearance of the place, when I heard that it had scarcely recovered from the disastrous effects of the floods during the preceding December. One night it had rained heavily, and the next morning, to the landlord's consternation, the courtyard was found to be some six or seven feet deep in water; the cellars and lower rooms and offices were completely swamped, and the horses had to be brought up to the first floor. The visitors, some forty or fifty in number, were quite unable to leave the hotel; and, owing to the incessant rain, this pleasant state of affairs continued for a week. Many of the churches, houses, and shops were eight feet under water, and ruin and destruction seemed inevitable. Meanwhile gondolas and other boats were employed as much as possible for the conveyance of food, etc., but the rush of the water from the higher to the lower parts of the town was so great, it was difficult to use them. It was not surprising, therefore, that the town made a chill and dismal impression on us. We felt quite aggrieved at thus being defrauded of Dickens' "Pleasant Verona." "Pleasant Verona," says our delighted humorist, "with its beautiful old palaces, and charming country in the distance, seen from terrace walks; and stately balustraded galleries. With its Roman gates still spanning the fair street, and casting on the sunlight of to-day the shade of fifteen hundred years ago. With its marble-fitted churches, lofty towers, rich architecture, and quaint old quiet thoroughfares, where shouts of Montagues and Capulets once resounded:

"And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans.

With its fast rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great castle, waving cypresses, and prospect so delightful and so cheerful! Pleasant Verona!"

Verona is situated on the sides and at the base of a circle of hills, in a bend of the river Adige, by which it is divided, so that when the river is flooded by heavy rains, the low-lying parts of the town are soon under water.

The name Verona brings a delicious flavour of romance and poetry with it. If Shakespeare had only made it the birthplace of his "Two Gentlemen," and the scene of Julia's sweet constancy, it would have been enough to cast a halo over it; but all other associations pale before the memory of the "star-crossed lovers," whose names rise to the mind at the mention of Verona as readily as those of Portia and Shylock are recalled at Venice. Doubtless, there are being enacted around us events fully as interesting, as amusing, as sad, and as tragic as those depicted by our great dramatist, for the world is ever the same--human nature varies little, be time and fashion what they may; lovers love as truly and passionately as ever did Romeo and Juliet; and selfish ignoble feelings mar the beauty of mankind as of old. Yet, surely the world is improving--the sun of Christianity has long been struggling behind the dark clouds of the past, and we now surely begin to see its glorious silver lining, and find the world bursting into nobler, higher, and better life.

Our first impulse, on the morrow of our arrival, was to go in search of Juliet's home, and see the balcony where she confessed her love in the moonlight, all unconscious that he of whom she spoke was an eager listener to the outpourings of her fervent soul:

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

The house was easily found. In the Via San Sebastiano (formerly the Via Capello) are many high, dull-looking houses with overhanging roofs, once the residence of the Veronese nobility. They are built, for the most part, of dirty brick, and are not very picturesque save for now and again a Gothic window, or a fragment of iron lattice grating, rusty and broken, which lends a certain dignity, as though they were yet pervaded with the spirit of the past. One of these houses, somewhat larger than the others, was once the house of Shakespeare's youngest heroine. Over its archway is still the hat, or "capello," which represents the arms of the family of the Capulets. We were greatly disappointed at the gloomy appearance and inappropriate surroundings of the scene of one of the tenderest and saddest love-tales that have come down to us from ages past. There is a balcony certainly, but too high, I think, for even the ardent Romeo to have climbed; there were, however, evident signs of another balcony lower down, which had been removed, possibly to prevent its incontinently falling on the head of some unfortunate pedestrian. The house, which is known by the name of the Osteria del Capello, has long been used as an Inn. It may perchance have been a flourishing hostelry--say a century ago, but at the present time its fortunes have reached a very low ebb, and only the lower portion of the building is used for that purpose. The remaining storeys within the spacious courtyard are let to artisans and others of the lower classes. They all have balustraded balconies, on some of which we saw clothes hanging out to dry. Within the courtyard is a well, from which the women draw water for household purposes, and the Vetturini clean their carriages. The place was swarming with children, not over clean; and, in fact, the whole locality was so dirty we were glad to get away--it was impossible to indulge in poetic memories in view of such desecration.

We now made our way almost to the other end of the town, in search of Juliet's tomb. After passing the workmen's quarter, we presently came to a large wooden door, and on knocking were admitted to the garden of an old suppressed convent. Crossing the grounds, we reached the building itself, where, next to the outer wall, we were shown a large open sarcophagus of reddish stone, the sides about four or five inches thick, and partly broken. The inside was strewn with visiting-cards--travellers from all parts of the world paying this tribute of respect to the memory of the unfortunate girl-bride. There were even some photographs, one of which I especially noticed of a young lady, who had written on the card a few lines of sympathy for poor Juliet's faithful and devoted love. Although there was something touching in this veneration of a past romance, I think it was carrying sentiment a little too far to leave visiting-cards and photographs in a desolate and deserted tomb, which we have no positive proof ever contained the remains of La Giulietta, as the Veronese call her. For my part, I think it far from probable that it was ever the scene of the tragic end of these unhappy lovers.

"But wherefore all this wormy circumstance? Why linger at the yawning tomb so long? Oh for the gentleness of old Romance, The simple plaining of a minstrel's song! Fair reader, at the old tale take a glance, For here in truth it doth not well belong To speak:--O, turn thee to the very tale, And taste the music of that vision pale."

The streets of Verona are, in general, narrow and paved with rough stones very fatiguing to walk on: the Corso Cavour is the finest thoroughfare. Our hotel was situated in a quiet side street, from whence, turning to the left, is the Piazza dei Signori which has in its centre a statue of Dante, who, after his banishment from Florence, lived longer at Verona than at any other place, but died and was buried at Ravenna.

"Happier Ravenna! on thy hoary shore, Fortress of falling empire! honour'd sleeps The immortal exile."

There is also a beautifully built town hall in the Byzantine style, with statues of some of the most eminent Veronese--Maffei, Catullus, etc. Then there are the law courts, the old castle of the Scaliger family, and the vast brick Campanile, some three hundred feet high. Close to this piazza is a little church, also in the Byzantine style, where, enclosed by a wonderful network railing of very curious design and beautiful workmanship, are the finely sculptured sarcophagi of the Scaligers, the founders of the city.

Emerging from the piazza, we found ourselves in the quaint and busy market-place, the Piazza delle Erbe, reminding me of a huge open Covent Garden, only that here the healthy, robust market-women sit under immense umbrellas, whilst vending their fruits and vegetables. All around are houses of different size and form, painted in various colours, the whole making a bright and picturesque scene. In the centre there is a very ancient fountain; at the top are stone columns, which once supported the winged lions--the token of Venetian rule--thrown down on her emancipation. This market-place was the Forum in ancient times.

The Cathedral contains little worth seeing save the fine painting of the _Assumption_, by Titian. In the foreground the Apostles are standing beside the empty grave, looking upward at the figure of the Virgin, who is borne aloft upon the clouds by the usual attendant angels. The effect of this is very beautiful. The façade and porch outside are very fine. There are two figures in red marble, of Roland and Oliver, on either side, which are considered proof of a rather doubtful tradition that this church was built by Charlemagne.

At the Capuchin Church we saw a _Dead Christ_, by Paul Veronese, one of his best works. Santa Maria della Vittoria contains a _Descent from the Cross_, by the same illustrious artist, many of whose finest pictures are in the Pinacoteca, in the Palazzo Pompei, of this his native city.

We visited the churches of San Stefano and San Zeno. The former was once the Cathedral of Verona, and contains the tombs of most of the bishops who were buried there. The latter is very fine from an architectural point of view.

One of our most enjoyable expeditions was that to the ruins of the great amphitheatre. It is constructed of red marble from the Veronese quarries, upon basements of Roman brickwork. No other amphitheatre can be compared with this for costliness of material; nor I believe, for size, it having contained some fifty to sixty thousand spectators at a time. It is somewhat oval in form, being 546 feet by 436 feet across; the circumference is 1476 feet. The outer circuit once consisted of seventy-two arches, but only four now remain. The height from the pavement is 106 feet. Inside, the great flight of marble steps or seats rise tier above tier, and when at length we gained the top, we had a magnificent view of the whole city, and of its strong fortifications. The outer wall of the amphitheatre, all rugged and overgrown with weeds, seemed like the side of some huge cliff. There, far below in the piazza, people were passing backwards and forwards, outside the _cafés_ loungers sipped their chocolate and smoked their cigarettes. The city lay before us, with all its palaces, churches, vineyards, picturesque towers, and forked battlements, divided by the swiftly flowing river, which curved round like a flash of light; and beyond lay the circling landscape, crowned with convents and villas; and in the far distance the Euganean Hills, with their blue and purple tints, and the snowy peaks of the Tyrolese Alps. It was indeed a lovely and an interesting scene.

The amphitheatre, as it now stands, is in excellent preservation; I believe a large sum is annually devoted to the purpose of keeping it so. It is a noble specimen of the gigantic works of the indefatigable Romans. These great Coliseums give one some idea of the immense populations of the cities in those times. We were very pleased with the fine echo in this Veronese amphitheatre.

The fortifications of the city are remarkably fine. Sanmicheli, the Italian engineer who planned them, was certainly a great architect; the Doric gate, Porta Strippa, Porta Nuova, and many of the buildings and palaces in Verona, were designed and built by him, and are good examples of his remarkable powers.

The shops here are fairly good, the town, as usual, abounding with _cafés_ and confectioners. Oil and wine appear to be the principal products now, but at one time there were some ten thousand hands employed in the silk trade. There were evidently some very enjoyable excursions to be made in the country surrounding the city, but our short sojourn did not allow of our undertaking any pleasure trips.

The people looked healthy, but I did not find much to praise in the beauty of the Veronese ladies, who, less wise than those of Padua, discarded the graceful and becoming head-attire of black lace, and adopted excruciating and deforming Parisian fashions.

It was a beautiful, bright, clear day when we left Verona in the forenoon of April 5th, for Milan. Passing through the suburbs of the town, we realized to the full the beauty of its situation, nestling in the valley of the Adige, with undulating plains, well cultivated and dotted with villages, and the splendid amphitheatre of hills in the background harmoniously blending with grey blue sky, altogether making one of the finest bits of river and hillside scenery I have ever seen. Every commanding point bristled with fortifications. This part of the famous quadrilateral is evidently exceedingly strong, but it would require an immense force to garrison the forts alone. These recent acquisitions of Italy, and her ambition to be a first-class naval power, must very greatly increase her national debt, and probably another large loan will soon be wanted. However, the Italians appear quite alive to the dignity and responsibility of the position they have been suddenly brought into since the Crimean War, and they seem determined to be equal to it.

It was interesting to witness, close to the train, on a very fine camping ground, the exercises of the cavalry and artillery as we passed.

At Peschiera, distant about a quarter of an hour's railway journey from Verona, we came in sight of the beautiful Lake Garda, the snow-clad mountains rising almost precipitously from its blue waters. A tiny vessel, with green and red sails like wings, floated peacefully along; the verdant fields and never-ending fortifications in the foreground. Then, as we changed our course, the lake slowly expanded, disclosing the soft, harmoniously tinted hills sloping upwards from its shores, a warm mist blending their outline with the sky above. Every moment opened new scenes of loveliness to us--little nestling villages of dazzling whiteness; a narrow strip of plain, with clumps of cypress trees; and presently a small island in the bosom of the lake, seemingly a tiny city with castellated tower resting on the blue waters; great mountain peaks rising grandly in the background. This island of Sirmione which is connected with the mainland by a stretch of sand, contains some old ruins said to have been the villa of Catullus.

At 11.25 we arrived at Desenzano, the station of which overlooks the lake, but the town itself is at some little distance. It seemed so lovely here, I quite regretted we were to continue our journey to Milan. After Desenzano, which possesses a picturesque little castle with turreted walls, the railway passes on to higher ground, affording more commanding views of the lake scenery. Then the land intervened, and we quite lost the lake. The weather was delightfully warm, the air bracing, and the sky cloudless. The sunny hills, flooded with soft purple light, reflected from the red soil in the foreground, added greatly to the beauty of the scene. The olive and the vine seem to love this richly coloured earth, and always flourish splendidly on it. Pizzato is finely situated at the foot of the great Carrara marble quarries. Thousands of hands are employed here. There were consignments of marble columns and blocks for building purposes at the station, ready to be despatched, probably to all parts of the world; for the hard and beautiful white marble dug out of these stupendous Alpine quarries is greatly in request for monuments, tombs, etc. After this we lost sight of the snow-clad hills for a time, but at Brescia they reappeared.

The castle and fortifications of Brescia are boldly placed, overlooking the city. The Cathedral Dome, and red serrated hills, add a picturesque grace, with the purple mountains in the background. Up to this point our journey had charmed us with its beautiful and varied landscapes, but the remainder of the route appeared tame and uninteresting. It was our first taste of the beautiful Italian lake scenery, and we were spoiled for anything less lovely. Much of the ground we passed over in this journey from Verona to Milan was full of historic interest, having been, from its important central and strategic position, one of the great battle-fields of Europe both in ancient and modern times.