December 4th

we reached Bologna.

This town is of considerable extent, numbers 50,000 inhabitants, and has many fine houses and streets; all of these, however, are dull, with the exception of a few principal streets.  Beggars swarm at every corner—­an unmistakable token that we are once more in the States of the Church.

December 5th.

This was a day of rest.  I proceeded at once to visit the cathedral, which is rich in frescoes, gilding, and arabesques.  A few oil-paintings are also not to be overlooked.

In the church of St. Dominic I viewed with most interest the monument of King Enzio.

The picture-gallery contains a St. Cecilia, one of the earlier productions of Raphael.

A fine fountain, with a figure of Neptune, graces the principal square.  In the Palazzo Publico I saw a staircase up which it is possible to ride.

The most remarkable edifices at Bologna are the two square leaning towers at the Porta Romagna.  One of these towers is five, and the other seven feet out of the perpendicular.  Their aspect inspired me with a kind of nervous dread; on standing close to the wall to look up at them it really appeared as though they were toppling down.  In themselves these towers are not interesting, being simply constructed of masonry, and not very lofty.

The finest spot in Bologna is the Campo Santo, the immense cemetery, with its long covered ways and neat chapels, displaying a number of costly monuments, the works of the first modern sculptors.  Three large and pleasant spots near these buildings serve as burial-places for the poorer classes.  In one the men are interred, in the second the women, and in the third the children.

A hall three miglia in length, resting on 640 columns, leads from this cemetery to a little hill, surmounted by the church of the Madonna di St. Luca, and from thence almost back into the town.  The church just mentioned contains a miraculous picture, namely, a true likeness of the Virgin, painted by St. Luke after a vision.  The complexion of this picture is much darker than that of the commonest women I have seen in Syria.  But faith is every thing, and so I will not doubt the authenticity of the picture.  The prospect from the mountains is exceedingly fine.

I returned in the evening completely exhausted, and half an hour afterwards was already seated in the post-carriage to pursue my journey to Ferrara.

On the whole the weather was unfavourable; it rained frequently, and the roads were mostly very bad, particularly in the domains of the Pope, where we stuck fast four or five times during the night.  On one occasion of this kind we were detained more than an hour, until horses and oxen could be collected to drag us onwards.  We were twelve hours getting over these fifty-four miles, from six in the evening till the same hour in the morning.

December 6th.