Last evening we gave our concert in the della Scala theatre. The orchestra kept its usual place, but the female singers, and Dorette and I, for our performances, took our places under the Proscenium, between the curtain which remained down, and the orchestra. The house although favourable for music, requires nevertheless on account of its immense size, a very powerful tone, and a grand but simple style of play. It is also very difficult in a place where people are always accustomed to hear voices only, to satisfy the ear with the tone of a violin. This consideration, and the uncertainty whether my method of play and my compositions would please the Italians, made me somewhat nervous on this my first début in a country where I was as yet unknown; but as I soon observed after the first few bars, that my play was listened to with attention, this fear soon left me, and I then played without any embarrassment. I had also the satisfaction to see that in the new concerto I had written in Switzerland, which was in the form of a Vocal-Scena, I had very happily hit upon the taste of the Italians, and that all the cantabile parts in particular were received with great enthusiasm. Gratifying and encouraging as this noisy approbation may be to the Solo-player, it is nevertheless exceedingly annoying to the composer. By it, all connexion is completely disturbed, the tutti so industriously worked out, are wholly unheeded, and people hear the Solo-player begin again in another tone without any one knowing how the orchestra has modulated with it.—Besides the Concerto, I played with Dorette the new Pot-pourris for piano and violin, and another with orchestral accompaniment. The latter, at the general request, I was obliged to repeat. The orchestra, the same that played in the opera, accompanied me with great attention and interest. Rolla, in particular, took great pains. My overture to “Alruna” was played at the beginning of the second part with great power it is true, but not without fault. The orchestra is accustomed to too many rehearsals, to be able to execute any thing free from fault after one rehearsal only. Madame Castiglioni, a Contre-Altiste engaged as a supplementary vocalist at the next carnival in Venice, sang an aria in the second part, with a fine voice and a good school, and was rewarded with a general applause. It had cost me infinite trouble to procure these two song-pieces; for the singers of the great theatre some of whom would have been very pleased to sing, could not get permission from the Impressario, and all the other singers of note who lived here, had already either signed engagements, or did not dare to appear at the Scala. The Impressario at first demanded the fifth part of the receipts for the grant of the theatre, but by the intercession of the governor Count Saurau, this tax was remitted in my favour.
After the concert, I was solicited on all sides to give another; but as next Friday, the only free day in each week, is the Emperor’s Name-day, on which the governor gives a grand fête, and we have no desire to prolong our stay another fortnight, I shall rather defer this second concert till my return, and proceed forthwith to Venice. The first concert moreover, has but little more than paid the expenses, which amounted to fifty ducats.
A few days ago we visited the Picture Gallery in the Arena; the locale is the finest we ever beheld. It consists of three large saloons, which receive the light from above, of a long gallery, and two cabinets. In the gallery are the pictures al fresco collected from the churches in Milan, from the walls of which they have been taken with the plaster on which they were painted, and here let into the walls again. Among them are some of high artistic worth, of which copies and engravings have already been made. In the saloons, the paintings are chronologically arranged, and the name of the master given under each. In the first saloon are those of the earlier period, in the middle are those of the later, and in the third those of the modern school. Yet as far as I know there are no works of any living artists hung up. In the Cabinets, the smaller paintings are exhibited. The most precious of all, a Raphael, which although of his earlier days when he still painted in the style of his master, is nevertheless of infinite beauty. It is the betrothal of the Holy Virgin with Joseph. In the centre stands the Rabbi who in a grave and dignified posture pronounces his blessing; on his left is Joseph, a manly figure with dark hair and beard, placing with a kindly expression the ring upon the finger of the Virgin, who upon the right, softly blushes in all the graceful sweetness of maiden modesty. Among the other figures, a youth is also conspicuous, who breaks a stick against his knee. Artists admire greatly the foreshortening of the inclined posture. At first sight the sharp outline of the figures strikes one as unpleasing; but after one has become somewhat used to it by a longer contemplation, one is irresistibly fascinated with the elevated expression both of countenance and position. In this as in all Raphael’s pictures the hands and feet are of exceeding beauty.
Venice, October, 5.
On Monday the 30th September we set out upon our journey thither in company with two amiable Polish Counts, whose acquaintance we had made in Milan, and of a painter who had just returned from a tour in Sicily. For myself and family I had hired a Vetturino as far as Padua, for seven louisd’or, for which price it was also agreed he was to pay for our supper and beds....
The road to Brescia presents very little variety. Brescia is an ancient town, in which there is very little worth seeing; but it is situated in a charming locality on the slope of a mountain covered with vineyards and countryhouses. We took a walk through the town, in which we saw nothing remarkable except a vine that covered the fronts of five houses up to their roofs, and was every where loaded with clusters of the finest grapes. One of the Poles, Count Zozymola, had meanwhile paid a visit to Signora Mulonatti, one of the most celebrated Contre-Altistes of the day, whose acquaintance he had made in Florence, where a few months previously she had sung. She is now reposing from the fatigues of the last months in the society of her Cavaliere serrente, a Count Secchi who has a fine house in Brescia, and a still finer estate in the neighbourhood. During the Carnival she will again make her appearance here in Venice, at a salary of 10,000 francs and a benefit. Her admirer, a man of large fortune and extensive knowledge has devoted his whole life to his Donna, while his two elder brothers have greatly distinguished themselves as Generals in the French Army. For the last ten years he has accompanied her every where she has sung, manages her affairs, and devotes himself to all her caprices. His sole somewhat earnest occupation is to write her memoirs i, e, her triumphs over other singers, and her love adventures. Once a year she furnishes him with the written data for the latter, which are the originals of the love-letters received, and although he is very jealous, she nevertheless prevails on the good natured fool to copy those letters himself, and introduce them with their respective explanations in her history. She has a husband as well, and two children by him, of whom she is said to be very fond. This husband plays a thoroughly pitiful part; he always keeps a certain distance, and awaits every look and beck of his ruling mistress. Up to the present time Count Secchi has seen neither Rome nor Naples, because his lady has not yet sung in those Cities, and she would not readily grant him permission to go there without her.
Between Brescia and Verona, the road passes along the Lago de Garda, whose beautiful wooded shores studded with country seats and enclosed by mountains, present the most beautiful views, which richly repaid us for the uniformity of the previous days journies. At the farthest end of the lake and half in the water, lies Peschiera, a small mean-looking town containing but few houses, but with extensive fortifications. From thence to Verona, the road is again very uninteresting. Upon our arrival, we learned that a female Pianiste and Harpiste of note from Naples was to give a Concert in the theatre, and we proposed to ourselves to go there. Through the slowness of the waiters who brought our supper an hour later than we had ordered it, we were however prevented going. We went nevertheless, at eleven o’clock at night by a beautiful moonlight to see the Coliseum, of all the monuments of Roman greatness, the one which is in the best state of preservation.... We ascended to the topmost benches, which equal in height the loftiest buildings of the town; from thence we had a splendid view over the whole colossal structure. We pictured to ourselves the immense mass of stone filled with the Romans of old—how they cheered the victors in the Arena beneath,—and then lost ourselves in the contemplation of the perishableness of all human greatness, and in comparisons between that vigorous people of yore and the present inhabitants of this beautiful land.
On one side of the Oval, the prisons are still to be seen where the malefactors were confined who were to be thrown to the wild beasts. The arrangement is still existing also, by means of which in a few minutes the circus could be laid under water for naval fights and boat races. During the visit of the Austrian Emperor, the people were treated with a resuscitation of the ancient horse and foot races. We had seen something similar in Milan of which I had forgotten to speak.
Napoleon has erected in the Foro Buonoparte, a Circus in the Roman Style, whose exterior consists also of a wall having passages for ascent; but the benches in the interior are of turf only. Of these there are about twelve, but from 25- to 30,000 people find nevertheless room sufficient. On one side of the breadth, stands a handsome building with a fine colonnade looking into the interior, from which stone benches run the whole breadth of the building down to the circus. In this modern Arena, which can also be laid under water, the people were treated at the time of the coronation of Napoleon, as king of Italy, with a free admission to a rechauffé of the ancient Roman games. A third but smaller edition, on payment, took place the day before our departure.
First of all, eighteen runners in Roman costume made their appearance, who upon a signal from the trumpets ran forward in a seemingly encumbered manner to the goal. The victor received a flag, from the top of which was suspended a wreath of laurel. The two next best after him, were also presented with tokens of triumph. Twelve horsemen now advanced to compete in speed. Several fell from their horses at the first start, and all of them rode so badly that they excited nothing but laughter and compassion. After the winners had been again rewarded, came the Chariot Race, which however presented both a new and interesting sight. The six charioteers were mounted on small two-wheeled Roman chariots such as one sees upon old coins, and on a given signal to start, lashed their horses, of which there were two to every chariot into a full gallop; at the extremity of the course, one of them in turning fell twice, horses and all, but without taking any harm. The others drove round the course three times, and the victors were again presented with their rewards. Now commenced the grand Triumphal-procession. From thirty to forty Hautboyists in the Roman costume with Turkish music!—playing a March from the Opera “John of Paris” opened the spectacle. Then came the Runners carrying spears; and at length a large Roman triumphal chariot drawn by four oxen, with the whole of the victors. The handsomely decorated oxen had been harnessed in pairs in the Roman manner; but the poor animals had not been accustomed to that sort of thing, and they would not move an inch; so that it was at length found necessary to yoke them in the same manner as they were used to, in their dung carts, and when this was done they went off in style. Behind them came the unsuccessful riders and charioteers who closed the procession.