I have been on a visit to the ancient and venerable city of Pavia, which is about eighteen miles distant from Milan, thro' a rich highly cultivated plain. The road lies in a right line the whole way. About three miles distant from Pavia on the Milan side stands the celebrated Certosa, which we stopped to visit. The church of the Certosa contains the greatest quantity of riches in marbles, and precious stones, of any building in the world, probably. The architecture is Gothic, and the workmanship of the exterior exquisite; but the ulterior is most dazzling; and at the sight of the rich marbles and innumerable precious stones of all kinds with which it abounds, I was reminded of Aladdin and began to fancy myself in the cavern of the Wonderful Lamp. This church was built by Galeazzo Visconti, whose coffin is here, and his statue also, in white marble. There are several bas-reliefs of exquisite workmanship. There are no fewer than seventeen altars here and of the most beautiful structure you can conceive, being inlaid in mosaic with jasper, onyx and lapis-lazuli. Besides these precious marbles of every colour and quantity under heaven, here are abundance of rubies, emeralds, amethysts, aquamarines and topazes, incrusted in the different chapels and altars. Here again is a proof of the falsehood and injustice of the aspersions cast on the French army, as being the plunderers of churches; for if they were so, how comes it that the Certosa the richest of all, was spared? Mr Eustace[119] in his admiration of Church splendour, should at least have given the French no small degree of credit for their abstinence from so rich a prize. A canal runs parallel to the road the whole way from Milan to Pavia, where it joins the Tessino. The banks of the Canal and each side of the road are lined with poplars. Pavia is one of the most ancient cities in Italy and has something very antique and solemn in its appearance. It is quite Gothic and was the capital city of the Lombard Kings. The streets are broad and the Piazza is large. I could not find any traces of the ancient palace of the Lombard Kings, which I should like much to have done; for then I should have endeavoured to make out the chamber into which Jocondo peeped and discovered what cured him of his melancholy, and where the impatient Queen received the petulant answer from her beloved Nano, conveyed by one of her waiting maids who told her:
E per non stare in perdita d'un soldo,
A voi nega venire fl manigoldo.[120]
Nor, lest he lose a doit, his paltry stake,
Will that discourteous churl his game forsake
—Trans. W.S. ROSE.
MILAN, 28th June.
I have been to the Scala theatre, to see the Ballet of the Vestal, one of the most interesting Ballets I ever beheld. Oh! what a mighty magician is the ballet master Vigano, and as for the prima ballerina, Pallerini, what praises can equal her merit? then, the delightful soul soothing music, so harmonious, so pathetic, and the decorations so truly tasteful and classical! I can never forget the impression this fascinating Ballet made on me. It is called La Vestale. It opens with a view of the Circus in ancient Rome, and various gymnastic exercises, combats of gladiators, of athletes, and ends with a chariot race with real horses. The Roman Consuls are present in all their pomp, surrounded by Lictors with axes and fasces. The Vestal virgins assist at this spectacle, and from one of them the victor in the games receives a garland, as the recompense of his prowess. The victor is the son of one of the Consuls and the hero of the piece; the heroine is the Vestal Virgin who crowns him with the garland. The young victor becomes desperately enamored of the Vestale, and she appears also to feel an incipient flame. After the games are over, the victor returns to his father's house, and meeting there one of his friends, discloses to him his love for the Vestale and his idea of entering by stealth into the temple of Vesta, where his beloved was appointed to watch the sacred fire. His friend endeavors, but in vain, to dissuade him from so rash an attempt, which can only end in the destruction, both of his beloved and himself. All the remonstrances, however, of the friend are vain; and the hero fixed in his resolve watches for the opportunity, when it is the turn of his beloved to officiate in the temple of Vesta, and enters therein. The Vestale is terrified and supplicates him to retire: in vain; and after a long but ineffectual struggle she sinks into his arms at the foot of the altar. Suddenly the sacred flame becomes extinguished; a noise is heard; the Vestals enter; the unfortunate fair is roused from her stupor by the noise of footsteps and has just time to oblige her lover to retire, which he reluctantly does, but not unperceived by the Vestals. The Matron of the Vestals reproaches her with the crime she has committed and orders her to be placed in a dungeon. She is brought out to be examined by the High Priest, found guilty and condemned by him to the usual punishment of the Vestals for a breach of their vow, viz., the being buried alive outside the gates of Rome. The moment the sentence is pronounced a black veil is thrown over her. The scene then changes to the place of execution; the funeral procession takes place; the vault is dug and a man stands by with a pitcher of water and loaf of bread, to deliver to her when she should descend. The Consuls are present, attended by the Lictors and Aediles. All the other vestals are present, of whom the culprit takes an affectionate leave and is about to descend into the vault. Suddenly a noise of arms and shouts are heard. It is her lover who having collected a few followers come rushing forward with arms in their hands to arrest the execution. He forces his way into the presence of the Consuls, but the sight of his father inspires him with awe; he staggers back; at this moment a Lictor at the command of the other Consul plunges a spear into his breast. The Vestal is hurried to the brink of the vault, into which she is forced to descend to the accompaniment of mournful music, while her dying lover vainly endeavours to crawl towards her. The curtain falls.
The exquisite acting of La Pallerini drew tears from my eyes: it was indeed too horrible a subject for a Ballo, which in my opinion ought to end happily. The scenery was the finest of the kind I think I ever witnessed. The first scene represents the Circus maximus; the interior of the temple of Vesta and the place of execution outside the walls of Rome were most classically correct and appropriate: the music was beyond all praise and singularly affecting. This Ballet has excited such an enthusiastic approbation that Vigano the Ballet master, Pallerini who acts the Vestal and the young man who performs the hero of the piece were summoned every evening after the termination of the Ballet, to appear on the stage, and receive applauses, which seemed to increase at every representation. I have been to see this ballet six or seven times, and always with increased delight. I was there on the last night of its representation, when some amateurs and people connected with the theatre put in practice what appeared to mean ill-judged concetto, however well merited the compliment it meant to convey. When the Vestal was about to descend into the vault, a genius with wings rose from it and repeated a few lines beginning Tu non morrai and telling her that the suffrages of the Insubrian people had decreed to her immortality, and printed sonnets were showered down on the stage from all parts of the house. I think it would have been much better to let the piece finish in the usual way, and then at its termination call for La Pallerini to advance and receive the garlands and hommage so justly her due.
I was in the loge belonging to my friend Mme L——-; there were three or four litterati with her, and they were all unanimous that it was an absurd and pedantic concetto.
In a day or two I shall start from Milan for Munich thro' Brescia and
Verona and the Tyrol.