THE Cathedral is the most magnificent building in the splendid and elegant city of Milan. "Inferior only to the Basilica Vaticana, it equals in length, and in breadth surpasses, the cathedrals of Florence and St. Paul's; in the interior elevation it yields to both; in the exterior it exceeds both; in fret-work, carving, and statues, it goes beyond all churches in the world, St. Peter's itself not excepted. Its double aisles, its clustered pillars, its lofty arches, the lustre of its walls, its numberless niches, all filled with marble figures, give it an appearance novel, even in Italy, and singularly majestic." In the sanctity of the city of St. Ambrose originated the pious resolution of founding this great temple, an event that is dated generally in 1386; the emperor, Francis I., appropriated 12,000 lire per month to its construction, and the Emperor Napoleon almost completed the whole of the grand design. An incongruity in the style is obvious and faulty; this arose from the number of artists employed, and the different ages in which different parts were executed. The first architects engaged on the work introduced the later Gothic manner, but Tibaldi, who flourished in the middle of the sixteenth century, adopted a more ancient style in the principal front. This great blemish, however, is completely obscured by the magnitude and richness of the whole structure; for, being built entirely of white marble, the exterior dazzles the spectator by its brilliancy, while its four thousand pallid statues astonish him. Nor is this imposing view inferior to the coup-d'œil of the interior, with its fifty-two marble pillars, and its countless statues, and altars, and pictures. The extreme dimensions are four hundred and ninety feet in length, two hundred and ninety-eight in breadth, and two hundred and fifty-eight in height, beneath the principal dome. The whole inner area is divided into five naves, by fifty-two clustered columns, ninety feet high, with a diameter of only eight feet, the space of the intervening arches being forty-eight. The chancel is entirely open, only distinguished from the central, or west nave, by the elevation of its floor, for there is no screen; the altar is raised on a throne at the entrance of the chancel, and the choir is of course behind it. The Ambrosial rite only permitting one altar, no lateral or private chapels were contemplated by the first architect, by which arrangement the simplicity and greatness of effect are much enhanced; but, innumerable little altars are nevertheless set up in various places, before which masses are said, for the souls of those who have been more credulous than either reason or religion required. The stained glass of the ancient windows having been destroyed in the last French invasions of Upper Italy, Bertini, a Milanese of high reputation, was entrusted with the restoration, and his performance is very probably superior to the ancient workmanship. The great gates of entrance are decorated with basso relievos, and with two tall columns of red granite, one on either side; these, although single blocks of stone, brought from the banks of Lago Maggiore, are, perhaps, the loftiest ever employed in architecture. Not only is the floor paved, the columns formed, the ceiling vaulted, and the roof covered, with shining snow-white marble, but even the interior, invisible parts of the walls and masonry are of the same resplendent production of nature. Two pulpits of large dimensions, one on either hand, adorn the entrance of the chancel; they embrace the noble pillars that enclose this more venerated section of the building, and are, like the old rostrum in the church of St. Ambrose, spacious enough to allow the preacher to pace to and fro, address different parts of the congregation successively, and repeat to one part what had only been indistinctly heard by another. One of these, appropriated to the reading of the Gospel, is sustained by four bronze figures of the Evangelists; the other rests, in the caryatid manner, on the heads of four doctors of the Latin church, of the same metal; the design was furnished by Brambilla. The exterior of the choir is of white marble, its panelled compartments being adorned with basso relievos, but the interior is wainscoted and carved in a masterly manner. Around the upper compartments of the inner walls are seventeen basso relievos, of a rare delicacy of touch, designed by the author of the great pulpits and of the rich gilt tabernacle; and, above these precious works of art, is a still more valued relic, a nail from the true cross. On the 3d of May in each year, the anniversary of the plague of MILAN CATHEDRAL. 33 1576, one of the dignitaries of the church, placed in a sort of car, representing clouds surrounded by a multitude of winged angels, is raised up, slowly, solemnly, dramatically, to the roof of the choir, from which he draws the nail with due reverence, and being lowered again with equal dignity to the floor, he takes his place in a procession that awaits his descent. The whole religious fraternity then proceed down the great aisle of the cathedral, bearing the adored nail along with them, in commemoration of a similar ceremony performed by St. Charles Borromeo, by which the plague was stayed. The objects of art, interest, beauty, and curiosity, that are here to be seen, could not be described in the limits to which these notices are confined, but some few are so conspicuous in decoration and narrative, that they enter into every description, however brief. Of these the most astonishing is the statue of St. Bartholomew, holding his own skin, which would appear to have been drawn off like drapery over his shoulders. An inscription on the pedestal presumptuously compares Agrati the sculptor to the great Praxiteles; but, if the character of the ancient artist were to be derived from such anatomical works, such violations of the beauty and majesty of the human form, such devotion to effects less sympathetic than disgusting, his example is little to be applauded. Statues of Apollo are numerous; but who has ever seen the flayed form of Marsyas expressed in sculpture? St. Charles Borromeo, the founder of the cathedral choir, the regenerator of the Milanese people, is entombed in a subterranean chapel, immediately beneath the dome. There the ghastly remains of the saint are enshrined, in a mausoleum lined with seven silver panels, on each of which some remarkable action of his virtuous life is represented. The body, dressed in pontifical robes studded with diamonds, is stretched at full length on a couch, a crozier lying beside it, and the mitred head reposes on a golden cushion. His sarcophagus is of transparent rock-crystal, permitting the emaciated features of the face to be distinctly seen. There cannot be a greater contrast than that of the shrivelled, sunken spectacle, which the faded lineaments of the saint exhibit, and the gorgeousness and brilliancy of his robes and decorations. A statue of Christ bound to the Pillar, by Gobbo, is one of the most perfect performances in this vast collection; while the colossal figures of St. Ambrose and of Pius IV., the latter seated, have also been justly celebrated. Baptism by total immersion, which was revived at Milan by St. Ambrose, rendered a basin, capacious in proportion, necessary. For this object, the Milanese transported hither, and placed in the Baptistry, a magnificent porphyry font, taken from the ancient thermal baths of Maximian Hercules. Amongst the sacramental, or altar plate, are several pieces of chasing and sculpture that command the highest admiration; and here also is preserved the famous pallium, representing the birth of the Virgin, a piece of needlework designed and executed by Louisa Pellegrini, surnamed, for her skill in this curious art, the Minerva of Lombardy. No tablet in this grand temple commemorates the coronation of the French Emperor and his consort Josephine; but history has not failed to record, "that in Milan Cathedral Napoleon placed on his laurelled brow the old iron crown of the Lombard kings." CASTLE OF CHILLON. The Chateau de Chillon stands in the waters of the Lake of Geneva. Before it rise the rugged Alps; behind, a noisy cataract foams and falls. The early reformers were imprisoned in its dungeons; and from a beam in one of the vaults, now black with age, martyrs were frequently executed. Seven pillars, to which rings and chains are fastened, stand in the cells; and, the worn pavement tells how oft the injured Bonnivard had paced its marble surface during his years of solitary confinement. Near to this unfrequented spot, Rousseau places the scene of that catastrophe which closes the story of his heroine Eloise. Charles V., Duke of Savoy, reduced Chillon in 1536, when he found vast treasures, along with many captives pining in its dungeons, whom he set at liberty. Amongst them was the good Bonnivard. On the pillar to which this unfortunate man was chained, is cut the name of one whose beautiful poem (The Prisoner of Chillon) has enhanced the interest of this dreary spot, and will effectually preserve the names both of Chillon and of Bonnivard from oblivion. The following beautiful passage, descriptive of decay and death, is extracted from that sublime production. "He, too, was struck, and day by day Oh God! it is a fearful thing I've seen the sick and ghastly bed Of Sin delirious with its dread: But these were horrors-this was woe He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender-kind, And grieved for those he left behind; Was as a mockery of the tomb, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur-not A groan o'er his untimely lot." BYRON. |