We Drove To The Hotel Di
San Marco, Which Is Close To The Piazza Grande, And Alighted There.
On
the Piazza stands the Hotel de Ville, and in front of it are two
equestrian statues in bronze of the Princes Farnesi; the statues, however,
of the riders appear much too small in proportion with the horses, and they
resemble two little boys mounted on Lincolnshire carthorses.
I did not visit the churches and palaces in this city from not having time
and, besides, I did not feel myself inclined or bound (as some travellers
think themselves) to visit every church and every town in Italy. I really
believe the ciceroni think that we Ultramontani live in mud hovels in
our own country, and that we have never seen a stone edifice, till our
arrival in Italy, for every town house which is not a shop is termed a
palazzo, and they would conduct you to see all of them if you would be
guided by them. I had an opportunity, during the two hours we halted here,
of walking over the greater part of the city, after a hasty breakfast.
Piacenza is a large handsome city; among the females that I saw in the
streets the Spanish costume seems very prevalent, no doubt from being so
long governed by a Spanish family.
On leaving Piacenza we passed thro' a rich meadow country and met with an
immense quantity of cattle grazing. The road is a fine broad chaussee
considerably elevated above the level of the fields and is lined with
poplars. Where this land is not in pasture, cornfields and mulberry trees,
with vines in festoons, vary the landscape, which is additionally enlivened
by frequent maisons de plaisance and excellently built farmhouses. We
passed thro' Firenzuola, a long well-built village, or rather bourg, and
we brought to the night at Borgo San Donino. At this place I found the
first bad inn I have met with in Italy, that is, the house, tho' large, was
so out of repair as to be almost a masure; we however met with tolerably
good fare for supper. We fell in with a traveller at Borgo San Donino, who
related to us an account of an extraordinary robbery that had been
committed a few months before near this place, in which the then host was
implicated, or rather was the author and planner of the robbery. It
happened as follows. A Swiss merchant, one of those men who cannot keep
their own counsel, a bavard in short, was travelling from Milan to
Bologna with his cabriolet, horse and a large portmanteau. He put up at
this inn. At supper he entered into conversation with mine host, and asked
if there was any danger of robbers on the road, for that he should be sorry
(he said) to fall into their hands, inasmuch as he had with him in his
portmanteau 24,000 franks in gold and several valuable articles of
jewellery. Mine host assured him that there was not the slightest danger.
The merchant went to bed, directing that he should be awakened at daybreak
in order to proceed on his journey. Mine host, however, took care to have
him called full an hour and half before daybreak, assuring him that light
would soon dawn. The merchant set out, but he had hardly journeyed two
miles when a shot from behind a hedge by the road side brought his horse to
the ground. Four men in masks rushed up, seized him and bound him to a
tree; they then rifled his portmanteau, took out his money and jewels and
wished him good morning.
Before we arrived at Borgo San Donino we crossed the Trebbia, one of the
many tributary streams of the Po, and which is famous for two celebrated
battles, one in ancient, the other in modern tunes (and probably many
others which I do not recollect); but here it was that Hannibal gained his
second victory over the Romans; and here, in 1799, the Russians under
Souvoroff defeated the French under Macdonald after an obstinate and
sanguinary conflict; but they could not prevent Macdonald from effecting
his junction with Massena, to hinder which was Souvoroff's object. In fact,
in this country, to what reflections doth every spot of ground we pass,
over, give rise! Every field, every river has been the theatre of some
battle or other memorable event either in ancient or modern times.
Quis gurges aut quae flumina lugubris
Ignara belli?[81]
We started from Borgo San Donino next morning; about ten miles further on
the right hand side of the road stands an ancient Gothic fortress called
Castel Guelfo. Between this place and Parma there is a very troublesome
river to pass called the Taro, which at times is nearly dry and at other
times, so deep as to render it hazardous for a carriage to pass, and it is
at all times requisite to send on a man to ford and sound it before a
carriage passes. This river fills a variety of separate beds, as it
meanders very much, and it extends to such a breadth in its debordements,
as to render it impossible to construct a bridge long enough to be of any
use.
This, however, being the dry season, we passed it without difficulty. Two
or three other streams on this route, seguaci del Po, are crossed in the
same manner.
The road to Parma, after passing the Taro, lies nearly in a right line and
is bordered with poplars. If I am not mistaken, it was somewhere in this
neighbourhood that the Carthaginians under Hannibal suffered a great loss
in elephants, who died from cold, being incamped during the winter. I am
told there is not a colder country in Europe than Lombardy during the
winter season, which arises no doubt from its vicinity to the Alps.
Opulence seems to prevail in all the villages in the vicinity of Parma, and
an immense quantity of cattle is seen grazing in the meadows on each side
of the road.
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