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presence.
Few works of art by any artist are equal to them.
We went twice to see them, and stayed long each time.
The cathedral is a grand old building, erected 1060-70.
Its front is covered with a rich and gorgeous sculpture of minute labor, . . . . and over the doors are bas-reliefs by John of Pisa, and Nicholas.
Inside, not only its bold and solemn style throughout is effective, but there are interesting works of art,—very interesting.
A Madonna by Ghirlandajo is excellent; two kneeling angels in marble on the altar of the sacrament, by Civitelli, 1470,—whose works are hardly found except here and in this neighborhood,—and a St. Sebastian, also by him, in 1484, are marvellous for the time when they were produced, and beautiful and full of deep meaning for any age. An altar-piece by John of Bologna, with the figures of the Saviour and St. Peter on one side and Paul of Lucca on the other,1 is one of the few satisfying representations of the Saviour I have ever looked upon, or perhaps I should rather say one of the few that do not offend the feelings when you look at it. It is of 1579. . . . . We went, too, to the palace where the Duke of Lucca has, not a large collection of pictures, but an admirable one, distributed through a few beautifully furnished rooms, where they can be seen in good lights and with great comfort.
Among them are Raffaelle's Madonna of the Candelabra,—a fine work, but not among his best or purest; Gherardo della Notte's incomparable Christ before Pilate, etc., . . . . really quite an admirable collection.
It was the last thing we saw in Lucca, which we left with regret, so beautiful is the situation of the town itself, and so many beautiful things does it contain.
Ten more days, passed in the circuit through Spezia and
Genoa, brought them to
Milan, where
Mr. Ticknor writes:—
Milan, June 7.—When we were fairly established, I went out to see if I could find some persons whom the cholera had kept out of the city when we were here last autumn; and I was doubly pleased, not only to find the Marquis and Marchioness Litta in their palace, but to learn that Manzoni—who has recently been married again— is still in town; that all the Trotti family are here; and that the Marchioness Arconati is on a visit to them from her exile in Belgium.
I therefore went to the Trotti Palace this evening, where I found the old Marquis, above eighty years old, with the Marchioness, almost equally old, surrounded by their children and grandchildren and
