Genoa - August 1889

An Outake from the Chapter:
Potions, Puccini and Pandemics
Milan and Paris 1889 - 1890

     From the ship we saw Genoa like a mirage, rising up from the rock amphitheater that enclosed the sea harbor in a warm secure embrace. A welcome sight after our rough Mediterranean crossing. From the deck the bejeweled Palazzo of the nobili sparkled in opulent displays as they shone over the water. Columbus, the honored son of Genoa stood proudly towering at the port. It was a picture-perfect first impression from afar. But the nearer we got to debarkation, the city revealed its gentle decay. She was a shadow of her former self wrapped in an old fraying coat.
Click Read More to continue reading ...

---

     Whether Palazzo or warehouse, buildings lost their luster on closer inspection even in the few flat areas along the Strada Nuovo and Bilbi. Elsewhere narrow labyrinthine alleys snaked between the tall buildings which cast ominous shadows at every turn. And the streets were nearly deserted during the long midday dinner riposo which made them seem even more portentous. Only two alleys were wide enough for a cavalli and horse to pass. Venturing without escort by day was strongly discouraged, and we were told not to walk anywhere at night.
     These warnings may have been good advice but had little consequence as we were only in the port long enough to dine, rest and explore for a day. We had been well prepared by previous pessimistic travelers to expect badly built and insulated houses, a disgracefully irregular railway system, inconvenient and slow postal arrangements, dirty and ill paved streets, beggars, cheats and Casanova’s. Endie looked forward to the latter, while I had prepared for the promise of the unrivaled beauty of Italy as written by poets and philosophers.
     Full of every caution, we expected to find rents were too high and taxes higher, or maybe I remember that from Mr. Twain’s good book. He was certainly right about the insidious smaller hidden tips, bribes and gift exchanges in Genoa. Everywhere we went; heads bowed, hands extended and the expectations for gratuities was not subtle. We tipped the man who appeared to help us board a carriage we had already hailed and needed no help to board. We paid for the corsage Endie didn’t want but was pushed on her by a small child whose mother was close at hand to collect for the favor. We paid for bougie tapers and matchsticks at the front desk of the inn because apparently the ability to see or walk about after sundown was not included with the unelectrified room.
     A black robed priest at one of our guided stops looked irritated when we didn’t offer him prompt thanks in the form of coins. And then he grimaced at the amount proffered. Mother quickly gave him more and received a muffled gripe as he walked away shaking his head.
     “Who ever heard of paying a man-of-the-cloth to act in such a manner! The ingratitude.” she said with irritation as she climbed aboard the cavalli. “We were quite generous in the cathedral.”
     Our driver laughed,“Lui è un po’ fuori.” twirling his finger at the side of his forehead. We took the meaning, “he was a bit crazy”, and maybe not even a real priest. Each day in every way, these small grifts made daily living a taxing inconvenience. We were sure to always have coins at hand.
     The next day we boarded the worst train I had ever been on for the journey to Milan. Madame Marchesi’s woeful warnings about Milan were never far from mind, despite my eager optimism at seeing another great European City.
     The neglected rail lines belied the beauty we saw from outside the rattling windows. Had we travelled just one year later, we could have travelled in luxury on the new Rome Express line that was to replace this regional line. In and out of tunnels we jostled, in and out of light. Some were short, others were over twenty minutes of frightful dark as black as ink. Even today when I emerge from a long tunnel, I cannot help but breathe a deep sigh of relief to see the light again. And after emerging, the colors and sights were more vibrant as any I have ever seen. This is what I remember of the hill country of Italy - the Lombardy hills dotted with white walled red roofed villas under sunny bright blue skies. And then exiting our last tunnel, we descended into a beautiful green valley as wide and far as one could see.
   “Italy is one of those places one hears so much about, you wonder if her charms are not exaggerated.” Mother commented.
    “And the same might be said of her faults.” answered Endemial.
   To be sure, Italy was both charming and changeable. We saw her natural beauty in the earth and sky. The latter, praised by poets when blue and bright, could turn violent and deadly with sudden storms.
  “You know that Shelley lived just south of Genoa in Lerici writing his epic poems surrounded by all this,” I added. “When returning from visiting Lord Byron, a sudden squall sank his small boat. He died at only twenty-nine. Imagine.”
      “Truly tragic” said Mother.
      “Thank you Daisy,” Endie said with all sarcasm. “That’s such an inspiring story.”
      “Mother, Look! This is Shelley’s green sea! The waveless plain of Lombardy.”
    “Please don’t start a recitation” chided Endie, “Let us just enjoy the scenery - silently.” Which was fine. I recited it to myself.
     Before us tumbled such beauty - endless orchards, fields and vines and no fencing to interrupt the expanse. Like a painting off the walls of the Louvre, this valley was surrounded by a cathedral of granite snow capped mountains to the North. Convents, churches, fortresses, glorious water cascades, and high walls around rambles, palazzo, and moss-covered landmarks from Lombardy’s historic past were half hidden by the overgrowth of a new civilization rising up around cultivation of grape, mulberry vine and fig trees. It was an Eden.
     As we drew nearer Milan, the unmistakable spires of the great white cathedral came into focus long before anything else could be identified.
     “Endie, isn’t it magnifique!” The Duomo shone like a great gem in the center of Milan and the waterways were the jeweled ring around it. “The canals are sparkling.”
​     “Everything around the cathedral seems so small, like my doll-house,” she answered.
     Indeed, even the great castle in the center of the city seemed cowed underneath her ethereal presence. She was glowing in the eventide. I might have been jaded having seen several lovely cathedrals in France, but this first glimpse of Milan will always stay with me. She was remarkable from the outskirts of the City, the tallest and largest structure by far, but she had a delicacy despite her enormity. The Duomo looked as if it was made from a paper-cutting, the delicate tracery piercing the bright azure sky.
     And all around the Duomo we saw the City of Milan. Here, charmed by the reveries and inspired by this mingling of ancient and modern, we saw the remaining moments of the journey slip by as we came into the electrified station of Milan lit up like an Opera stage. Mr. Edison was due to follow us here in a few weeks to see the electrification progress himself. It seemed the perfect bright welcome and a big change from Genoa.
     Mr. Edison owed a great deal to Milan, the Opera and her grand stage La Scala. In 1881 the Compagnie Continentale Edison, the firm that would oversee the sale of Edison patents in Europe, was established and employed some of the finest technical minds to run franchises, like Italiana Edison. In 1883 the site of Santa Radegonda at the center of Milan’s main commercial district was chosen for Europe’s first electric power plant station. The firm would operate in, and only in, Milan for the next decade and is the oldest Italian Energy Company and one of only a few in the world in 1889. But it was almost a failed effort.
     Before the power plant was finished and ready to electrify the streets as planned, Milanese politicians signed a union contract to use gas lights banning electric lights from the City center. Realizing the need to showcase electric illumination on a grand scale to gain necessary contracts, Italiana Edison chose the Opera House La Scala. There they installed the lights quickly at their own cost. The theater’s incandescent installation was at the boundaries of the Union’s control and the theater won an important but neglected role in the history of electrification with overwhelming benefits. Incandescent illumination meant that theaters were no longer prone to deadly fires when gas burners overturned. They provided light with less heat leaving a more comfortable audience and performer. In 1881, Edison had proven the value at the first public building to be completely illuminated by electricity - the brand-new Savoy Theater in London. But the incandescent installation in 1883 at the Teatro alla Scala outdid even the Savoy.
     ​La Scala set the precedent of darkening the auditorium to focus audience attention on the soft stage lighting. It added to the drama and a new aesthetic in live performances. The audience was literally in the dark. Of course, it is quite common now the world over. The introduction of this innovation, in other words, was made possible by Edison.