Brick and Marble in the Middle Ages: Notes of Tours in the North of Italy. George Edmund Street
the whole church is the north porch,[7] a most elaborate structure of red, grey, and white marble, to which a drawing without colour can hardly do justice. It is supported upon detached marble shafts, whose bases rest upon the backs of rather grand-looking lions, curiously grouped with children and cubs. Above the arches which rest upon these shafts, and which, though circular, are elaborately cusped, is another stage divided by columns and trefoiled arches into three spaces, the centre of which is occupied by a noble figure of a certain Duke Lupus on horseback, with a saint on either side in the other divisions. All the shafts except those in the upper division are of red marble; the highest stage of all is entirely of grey marble; in the middle stage all the moulded parts are of red, and the trefoiled arches and their spandrels of grey marble; the space at the back of the open divisions and the wall over the main arches of the porch are built in courses of red and white marble. All the groining is divided into diamond-shaped panels, composed alternately of black, red, and white marble, all carved in the same kind of pattern. In the great arch of the porch the outer moulding is of red marble, and all the cusping of grey. The construction of the whole is obviously very weak, and depends altogether for its stability upon iron ties in every direction.
The approach to the porch, by seven steps formed alternately of black and white marble, increases the impressiveness of the grand doorway, in front of which it is built, the whole of which is of white marble, whose carved surfaces and richly moulded and traceried work have obtained a soft yellow colour by their exposure to the changing atmosphere, and are relieved by one—the central—shaft being executed in the purest red marble. There are three shafts in each jamb, carved, twisted, or moulded very beautifully. These shafts are set in square recesses, ornamented, not with mouldings, but with elaborate flat carvings, in one place of saints, in another of animals, and with foliage very flat in its character, and mainly founded on the acanthus.
To an English eye these columns in the doorways are some of the most charming features of Italian architecture; but they must be always looked at as simply ornamental, and not as constructional features; and perhaps in all doorways the shafts, being really incapable of supporting any considerable weight, would be better if, by their twisting and moulding, it were clearly shown that their architect meant them to be simply ornamental. In the Bergamo doorway the spaces between the shafts are so strong in their effect, though carved all over their surface, that any lightness in the columns themselves is amply atoned for. Such a work as this northern porch at Bergamo is indeed a great treat to an English architect, teeming as it does with fresh and new ideas, and in a small compass showing so many of the radical points of difference between northern and southern Gothic, and at the same time offering so beautiful a study of constructional colouring, that it is impossible to tire of gazing at it.
The porch to the south transept is of a simpler but somewhat similar design. Both are placed against the western half of the gable against which they are built, with a pleasant ignorance of those new-fangled views of regularity of plan which are the curse of modern architects. This southern porch is round-arched, and fitted exactly to the doorway which it shields. Its outer arch is carried on detached shafts resting on the backs of monsters, and it is mainly constructed of black and white marble. It is of only one stage in height, and has a deep cornice enriched with a series of niches with figures. An inscription below the cornice gives the date as 1360.[8] Above the porch, but independent of it, is a lofty monumental pinnacle corbelled out from the wall, and richly sculptured with crocketed pinnacles and gablets. When the church is entered, the reason for the apparently eccentric position of the porches is seen. They were so placed to give more space for the altars to the east of the transepts, and their successful effect is good evidence that no artist need ever distress himself about a want of regularity, if it is the result of a little common sense attention to convenience in the arrangement of his plan.
The southern side of the church gives a very fair idea of what the general character of the original building of 1134 was. The windows were very plain, the walls lofty, the roof flat, and ornamented with corbel-tables up the gables and under the eaves, and pilasters were used at intervals instead of buttresses. There is a central octagonal lantern which may be old, but which is entirely modernized. The most interesting remains are the various apses already mentioned. They are of two divisions in height, the lower adorned with very lofty, boldly-moulded arcades, above which is an elaborate cornice, and above this again a low arcade on detached shafts, behind which the walls are considerably recessed to form galleries which produce a very deep shadow. The capitals are elaborately carved, and the upper cornice is again very rich. Altogether, little as remains unaltered of the old fabric, it is enough to give an idea of a very noble and interesting phase of art. Near a doorway into the north chancel-aisle the external walls have traces, faint and rapidly decaying, of some very exquisite frescoes or, more probably, tempera paintings.
The steeple is in a most unusual position—east, namely, of the south transept—not less, I believe, than some three hundred feet in height, of good and very simple pointed character, without any approach to buttressing, and remarkable as having an elaborately arcaded string-course a few feet below the belfry windows, which have geometrical traceries enclosed within semi-circular arches, affording, like the south transept porch, a curious illustration of the indifference of Italian architects to the use of the pointed arch where strength was not of consequence.
Italian campanili have quite a character of their own, so distinct from and utterly unlike the steeples of Northern Europe, that this, the first Gothic example I had seen, interested me exceedingly. Perhaps its detail was almost too little peculiar, if I may venture to say so; for certainly it has left no such impression of individuality on my mind as has the beautiful campanile to whose grace so much of the charm of Verona is due.
The cathedral at Bergamo, which is close to the Broletto and Sta. Maria, may be dismissed in a word. It has been rebuilt within the last two hundred years, and appeared to be in no way deserving of notice. In a courtyard on its north side is a small detached polygonal baptistery, founded in 1275, which must have been very interesting. It is all built of marble, and richly adorned with shafts; but so far as I could see every portion of it has been renewed within a few years. Beside Sta. Maria Maggiore and the Broletto we found little to see. Two churches—one in the Città, and another, desecrated, in the Borgo—have very good simple pointed doorways, with square-headed openings and carved tympana; but beyond these we saw scarcely any trace of pointed work. We had a luxuriously hot day in Bergamo, and, as we sat and sketched the Broletto, a crowd, thoroughly Italian in its composition and proceedings, gathered round us and gave us a first lesson in the penance which all sketchers must be content to undergo in Italy. Before long I found that my only plan was to start an umbrella as a defence both against the sun and the crowd, and this, though not entirely successful, still effected a great improvement.
The walk down the hill to the Borgo was more pleasant than the climb up, and we were soon at our inn again; and then, after a most delicious luncheon of exquisite fruit and coolest lemonade, concluded by a very necessary dispute with our landlord about the amount of his bill, ending, as such disputes generally do in Italy, with a considerable reduction in the charge and the strongest expressions of regard and good wishes for our welfare on our way, we mounted our carriage, and were soon on the road towards Brescia.
Not far from this road and within about eight miles of Bergamo lies one of the most interesting of the many castles of which one so frequently sees remains in the North of Italy. This is the Castle of Malpaga, which was inhabited by the famous Condottiere Bartolomeo Colleoni, of whom we have already heard at Bergamo, and of whom we shall see something again at Venice. It belongs now to a nobleman who lives in the Città of Bergamo, and leaves this old and stately pile to the keeping of his hinds, who tend his silk-worms, gather his grapes, make his wines, look after his corn and cattle, and do as much as in them lies to gather the fruits which mother earth yields in these parts with such ungrudging profusion, but trouble themselves little about the preservation of the old castle or its belongings, seeing that they seem to give scant pleasure to their lord.
The castle as originally built was a square