Part 9

At Cigliano we took a _dejeuné_ at _L'Albergo Reale_, and while it was preparing, stood in the open gallery on the outside of the house, gathering from a vine, which overshadowed it, the most delicious Frontigniac grapes that I ever remember to have tasted: indeed their flavour was exquisite, but the people did not appear to think them of any particular value, leaving them freely to the attacks of every traveller. Here we first drank the _vino d'Asti_, a light wine of the country, which we thought extremely pleasant, tasting like the best sweet cyder. I formerly thought that the flies of this country would probably be much of the same sort as those in England; but they turned out far more impertinently troublesome, inflicting their tiny torments without mercy, being equally obnoxious to man and beast; a true impudent, blood-sucking race! This reminds me, that under the head of _vermin_, I ought to have recorded a disagreeable surprise felt by Mr. B. at the Opera at Turin: feeling something tickle his forehead, he put up his hand, and caught hold of a monstrous black spider, at least four inches in circumference. The people at the hotel, to whom we related the circumstance, said it was rather an uncommon thing, but which sometimes occurred. The country, since we turned our backs upon Turin, was monotonous, and only relieved by the chain of Alps in the distance.

At San Germano we observed a very graceful costume among the peasant girls, and women of all ages; those who were advanced to extreme old age still continuing it without any variation. I allude to the wearing silver pins or bodkins in the hair behind, the long tresses of which are tied together with a narrow black riband, and divided into two braids. These are then coiled into a round shape at the back of the head, and fastened to the roots of the hair by these ornamental pins, which are about a finger in length, and have large heads, like beads. Their points form the radii of a circle, and are plainly discovered amid the shadowy locks which they thus support. The landscape here was flat and uninteresting; but we remarked a great deal of pasture land. The trees chiefly consisted of stunted willows, planted in straight lines. There were no villas, or even hamlets, to be seen, and the _tout ensemble_ was almost as tame and as ugly as that of the Netherlands. The first dulcet notes of true Italian music, we heard at Vercelli: a baker's wife, who lived next door to the _Albergo della Posta_ (where we stopped to change horses), sat working and singing in her shop. It was the most elegant, yet simple, air imaginable, and her voice possessed the soft mellifluous tones of a faint but mellow flute. She had a peculiar ease and flexibility also in the execution of several charming and brilliant little graces, which delighted me. I thought it was extremely improbable that this woman could have had the advantage of a master in the art; and yet her style was finished in the most perfect sense of the word; being simple, yet refined; pathetic, yet chastely ornamented. She was plain in face and person; but her lips half open looked almost pretty, as she emitted these sweet sounds, without discomposing a muscle. An effect was thus produced, without effort or instruction, which is frequently denied in our country to the pupils of the most celebrated teachers, although every exertion has been cheerfully and indefatigably made, both by master and scholar. But there is no convincing some people that there are things which are not to be taught. Had I a daughter, I would never allow her the assistance of a music master until I perceived, by unequivocal tokens, that nature had qualified her to do credit to his instructions; and hence waste of time, patience, temper, and money, would be avoided. My baker's wife I shall never forget; and if her example would have opened the eyes of half the world in England (who really seem to be music-mad in the present age), I wish that she had had an opportunity of exhibiting her gift, and of mortifying the silly ambition, while she soothed the ears of them all. How have I smiled to see people toiling to acquire the knowledge of composition and thorough base, when I have been certain that they have not possessed a spark of native genius to enable them to make any use of these rules after all. Prometheus formed an image, but it was only fire from heaven that could make that image man!

The costume of the women at Vercelli became still more picturesque than those of San Germano, as the bodkins which the former wore were much handsomer, some being of silver filligree, and others of silver gilt, the heads worked and embossed with great taste and richness. We saw large fields of rice here; this grain has a singular appearance, something between the barley and oat: when viewed closely, it has about twelve ears upon each stalk. The hedges by the road side were of a species of acacia, forming a very graceful foliage, but not growing to any height or size. I got out of the carriage to examine the manner in which the women inserted the pretty ornaments I have just described into their hair. I found them (like the French _paysannes_) extremely courteous and frank in their manners, and they seemed flattered by the attention their costume had excited. An old man stood by, holding the hands of his two little grand-children; he observed (in the usual _patois_) that they were beautiful rogues, and he was right, for I have seldom seen sweeter children; very dark, with the bright yet soft black eye peculiar to Italians, and which both Sir W. Jones and Lord Byron, catching the poetical idea of the eastern writers, have so happily defined, (or rather painted) by a comparison with that of the roe or gazelle. One of these darlings had wavy curls of the darkest auburn hair. What a pity that such lovely cherubim faces and silken locks should not have been kept free from dirt and----worse than dirt! but it is always the case here, the poorer classes are invariably filthy.

The same tiresome and tame style of country continued until we reached Novara; where we dined and slept at _l'Albergo d'Italia_. The latter was a horrible-looking place; my heart sank within me, as we drove into the court, for if I was so bitten by the bugs, &c. at the superb albergo of Turin, I naturally conceived I should have been quite devoured here! This was a striking proof, however, of the truth of that moral axiom, which tells us, "it is not good to judge of things at first sight," and also that it is absurd to consider them on the dark side, since at this same inn we found every comfort: the dinner was served in a cleanly manner (the knives, forks, and spoons were really washed), and we enjoyed a night of calm repose, undisturbed by vermin of any sort. The gentlemen went in the evening to an Italian comedy, at the theatre here, which was a neat building, entirely fitted up with private boxes and a parterre, the scenery and costumes far above mediocrity, and the orchestra very tolerable; but the length of the Italian dialogues, and the unnatural bombast of the actor's delivery, soon fatigued their attention and exhausted their patience, and they were glad to return home to indulge unrestrained an overwhelming propensity to sleep. The women at Novara were much better looking than any we had yet seen in this country; the custom of gently parting the hair upon the forehead, _à la Madonna_, finishing with a soft ringlet behind each ear, and the longer tresses confined in an antique knot, gave an air of infinite grace to the head and throat, and appeared to us to be in far better taste than that of the French, which strains up the long hair to the crown of the head, rendering the forehead quite bald, save at the temples, where a lank straggling greasy curl always is left hanging down upon the cheek, which has a formal and unbecoming effect. Apropos to personal charm, I was assured before our departure from England (by an amateur artist of high genius and feeling, and who had lived for years in different parts of Italy), that we should find there a small number of what are generally called "pretty women," in comparison with what we had been used to see in our own country; but that when real Italian beauty was occasionally encountered, it was of that decided and exquisite nature, as to be infinitely superior to any which England's daughters can boast. Even my slight experience has perfectly convinced me of the truth of the remark. I am national enough to be sorry for it, but it cannot be helped; we must submit to this mortification of our vanity, and if we do it with a good grace, may probably find that quality _plus belle encore que la beauté_ of power to captivate, where regularity of feature has failed. The first stage of our journey the next day did not afford us any relief from the insipidity of country of which we had complained since leaving Turin. We saw here (as in most parts of the continent) large tracts planted with corn, here called _melliga_, and remarked a good deal of meadow land; but we did not once taste cream either in Italy or France (except at Samer, and afterwards at Quillacq's hotel at Calais, when we were treated with a few spoonfuls in our tea of a rich sort of milk which boasted that name), nor was Paris itself exempt from the want of it. This wearying sameness in the landscape was at length agreeably broken by the prospect of a vast common, where the purple heath-flower, with which it was entirely covered, wet with dew, gleamed like an amethyst in the morning sun. Yet even here, I missed the gay variety of the bright golden broom, which invariably is found upon our commons at home--Home! the term always makes my heart throb with pleasure and pride; I know not why, but at that moment its idea rose in vivid strength before me, softened and beautified by the colours with which memory never fails to adorn a beloved object in absence. I felt (and my companions warmly participated in my sentiments) that our dear little island had charms of a different nature, but in no way inferior, to those even of this favoured land, so celebrated, so enthusiastically vaunted, by the poet and the painter. I felt (and what Englishwoman ought not to feel?) that I could truly exclaim in apostrophizing my native country,

"Where'er I go, whatever realms I see, My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee."

And yet, reader, we were no _bigots_ in the cause, for we could discern foreign excellence and deeply feel it, and we could perceive where England's faults lay, could acknowledge those faults, and wish that they were rectified; and this, I am sorry to say, is not always the case with our countrymen, many of whom have listened to all commendations of other nations, as if they were so many insults offered to our own. It seems wonderful that such feelings should in these enlightened days exist among persons who are not actually fools, nor of that class of society in which a want of education necessarily induces ignorance and prejudice; yet so it is, unfortunately, as it has more than once been my lot to witness.

We now passed the river Tessin, by means of a bridge of boats. It was much impaired in beauty and force, by the heat of the late season, but we could easily imagine that in general its portion of both must be extreme. Bonaparte had begun to build a fine and permanent bridge across it, but fate intervened, and it is left unfinished, like his own eventful history.

At Buffalore, the _douaniers_ were tiresome enough, according to _custom_ (pardon the pun), but we conducted ourselves towards them with great patience and civility, which (together with a little _silver_ eloquence) soon touched their stony hearts. Indeed it would have been useless to have done otherwise, as I never yet heard of any body being able to soften rocks with vinegar, except Hannibal; and I consider even that instance to be apocryphal.

We arrived at the grand city of Milan early, and proceeded immediately to visit the cathedral, that mighty _duomo_, of which Italy is so justly proud. We were absolutely silent with admiration and wonder, upon first seeing this stupendous work of art, and I really despair of doing it justice in description; like many other things, it must be seen to be fully comprehended and appreciated. St. Peter's at Rome is generally accounted the superior miracle of genius; but I believe there are many imaginations which have been more forcibly impressed with the effect of this. In the first place, the _material_ claims pre-eminence, being entirely of white marble, brought from the Lago Maggiore. It is of gothic architecture, and was begun in the year 1386: the plan of the choir and the two grand organs were given by the celebrated Pellegrini, and the façade, which had remained for so many years unfinished, was completed by Bonaparte, from the simple and superior designs of the architect Amati. Various statues and bas reliefs, with other costly ornaments in spotless marble, ornament the outside; and the interior has no less than five naves, supported by one hundred and sixty superb columns of the same magnificent material. Immediately beneath the dome or cupola (which is by Brunellesco) is a subterranean chapel, where sleeps the embalmed body of Saint Carlo Borromeo, (the Howard of his age, and an ancient archbishop of Milan), enshrined in a coffin of the purest rock crystal, inclosed in a tomb of solid silver, splendidly embossed, and of enormous size and value. The pillars which support this chapel are alternately of silver and of the most exquisite coloured marble, highly polished. The wax tapers, which were lighted by the guides, to enable us to thread the dark mazes of this magnificent dungeon (for I can call it by no other name, debarred as it is from the sweet air and light of heaven), cast a stream of gloomy radiance upon our somewhat lengthened visages, and dimly illuminated the buried treasures of the tomb. Never, surely, since the days of Aladdin, has there existed so imposing a scene of sepulchral wealth and grandeur! Having expressed a wish to see the saint (who I ought to mention has now been dead for nearly three hundred years), the priest (first putting on a sort of cloak of old point lace, and crossing himself with an air of profound respect and reverence), assisted by the guide, began to set some mechanical process at work; by means of which, as though by a stroke of magic, the silver tomb appeared to sink into the earth, the lid flew up as if to the roof of the chapel, and the body inclosed in its transparent coffin was suddenly exhibited to our wondering gaze. It was habited in a long robe of cloth of gold, fresh as if just from the loom; on the head was a mitre of solid gold (presented by one of the former kings of Spain), and by the lifeless side, as if just released from the powerless hands which were crossed upon its breast, lay a crosier, of massy chased gold, studded with jewels of extraordinary richness and beauty; the price of which was scarcely to be reckoned, and whose magnitude and lustre were wonderful! They sparkled brightly in the rays of the taper, as if in mockery of the ghastly spectacle of mortality which they were meant to honour and adorn. Nothing certainly could well be imagined more alarmingly hideous than St. Carlo Borromeo; and why the humiliating exhibition of his corporeal remains should thus be produced to the eyes of the careless multitude, when the qualities of his noble and benignant soul should alone be remembered and dwelt upon, I cannot possibly conjecture. What a strange perversion of taste, and what a ludicrous method of evincing gratitude and admiration! A very brief account of the virtues of this good archbishop may not be unwelcome to my readers. He was the head of the noble family of Borromeo, and equally distinguished for his extraordinary benevolence towards mankind, and his elevated sentiments of piety towards God. Not satisfied with possessing the respect and homage of his fellow creatures, he placed his happiness in soothing their griefs, relieving their wants, and in gaining their warmest affections: he rather wished to be considered as a father than a superior, and the superb head of the clergy was merged in the benevolent friend of the people. His whole fortune was devoted to their service, and during a year of famine he had so completely exhausted his annual income in feeding others, that he literally was left totally destitute either of food or ready money, one evening when he returned to his episcopal residence, fatigued and exhausted with the charitable labours of the day. This benign enthusiasm, kindled in early life, never relaxed to the hour of his dissolution, and he was after death canonized as a saint by the universal consent of all ranks of persons, as might reasonably be expected; and with far more justice than many of his calendared brethren. I am afraid, nevertheless, that he does not quite come up to the ideas of moral and religious perfection, entertained by a Faquir of India, or a strict Calvinist of our country; for he certainly never stuck any nails into his own sides, or planted the thorns of terror in the agonised bosom of all, whose notions of duty happened not exactly to agree with those he himself entertained. He persecuted, he despised, he denounced no one; and he considered all mankind, whether protestant or catholic, as equally entitled to his good will and benevolence!--To return to the narrative of our individual proceedings, we retired from the cathedral, with our imaginations rather disagreeably impressed by the splendid yet disgusting spectacle we had there witnessed; and instead of remaining at home all the evening, to brood over the idea of coffins and crossbones, and to "dream of the night-mare, and wake in a fright[7]," we were wicked enough to shake off our melancholy, by going to the theatre of the Marionetti (or puppets), for which Milan is famous. The scenery and figures (the latter of which were nearly four feet in height) quite surprised us by their correct imitation of nature. I assure the reader, that I have often seen actors of flesh and blood far less animated, and much more wooden. We could now and then discern the strings by which they were worked, and we found it easy to follow the Italian dialogue, as the judicious speaker (concealed behind the curtain), did not indulge in the rant or mouthing of high tragedy, but gave every speech a natural degree of emphasis, and possessed in addition, an articulation singularly clear and distinct. The orchestra was capital, the selection of music extremely agreeable, and I never heard a _tout ensemble_ better attended to, even at the Opera.

Milan is a large city, and has the convenience of excellent pavements both for foot passengers and those in carriages. There are four _trottoirs_ in each street, two of them in the middle of the road, which is a great advantage to all the draught horses of the place, as it considerably lessens and facilitates their exertions: I should not wonder if this improvement had been suggested by the guardian spirit of the amiable Borromeo, since we are told that "a righteous man is merciful unto his beast." The _bourgeoises_ of Milan generally wear black or white transparent veils, thrown carelessly over the hair, and carry fans in the hand. Some have thin muslin mob caps with flat crowns under the veil, but the use of a bonnet is quite unknown. Both the peasantry and _bourgeoisie_ are generally well-looking, and we saw two or three lovely women: one in particular, a true Madonna of Coreggio, who if seen in a London circle, would, I am sure, have created an immense sensation; we had no opportunity of judging whether she was fully aware or not of her own extraordinary beauty, but taking the thing in the most rational point of view, I should think it impossible that she should be ignorant of the personal advantages so liberally bestowed upon her. Nothing has ever appeared to me more sickening than the pretty innocence some women (who have been highly favoured by nature) think it amiable to affect. That it is genuine, no one will believe who is truly acquainted with human nature and the customs of society; nor will any female, who is not weak in intellect, or of very defective judgment, condescend to adopt so paltry an artifice. A woman of _sense_ must know when she is handsome, and she will also know how to enjoy this species of superiority without abusing it. There is nothing, however, more common than the mistaking ignorance for virtue, amongst persons of a certain calibre of intellect, who yet at the same time pique themselves upon a reputation for solidity.

The fruit sold in the markets here is in the most luxuriant profusion that can be imagined. We saw grapes piled up in large wicker baskets, like those used for holding linen; peaches in tubs and wheelbarrows, and innumerable quantities of ripe figs. We had the pleasure of hearing several ballad-singers of a very superior stamp to those of London or Paris. This is giving them small praise; but I mean to say, that they were really excellent, differing widely from some to whom we had listened at Turin (who said they came from Rome), and whose harshness of voice was unpleasant, although their style, and the music they selected, was very good. But these people gratified us extremely: they sang a buffo duet (accompanied by a violoncello, violin, and guitar), with full as much spirit and correctness as either Signors N. or A. And we afterwards heard a man (who came under our windows with his guitar) execute one of Rossini's refined and difficult serious _arias_ in an equally finished manner.

The next day we took a _caleche_, and drove to see many lions, amongst others the _arena_ (i. e. amphitheatre), and the triumphal arch, begun, but not finished, by Napoleon. It was at Milan that this wonderful man was crowned king of Italy, in 1805; and the arch in question was intended to be at once a monument of his fame, and a gate to the grand road of the Simplon, which commences here. When finished, it must have proved the admiration of posterity; even now it is very striking to the imagination, and not the less so (in my opinion) for being left thus awfully incomplete. The groups of figures, prepared as ornamental friezes, lie piled together in a shed or outhouse hard by, scarcely secured from the injuries of weather. Nothing can be more chastely classical than their designs, and the figure of Napoleon, for ever prominent among them, in the costume of the ancient Roman conquerors, is a very correct personal likeness. A statue of him also is shewn here (with some little affectation of mystery), as large, or larger, than the life, and is equally marked as an accurate resemblance.