Page:The Kaleidoscope; Or, Literary and Scientific Mirror (1824-03-16; Vol 4 Iss 194).djvu/2

Rh the 15th of Messidor, in the year 4 (3d of July, 1798) the French occupied the citadel with the consent of the King of Sardinia. Suwarrow took possession of it the following year after an obstinate battle between the town and the citadel, which are contiguous. I saw, in the palace of Lascaris, cannon-balls, fixed in the places where they were first lodged, among glasses, pictures, and gildings. In 1802, Piedmont, having been annexed to France, was divided into departments, and, by a decree of 1807, erected into a general government of the departments beyond the Alps. Turin was its chief place. This government comprehended, besides Piedmont, the state of Genoa, and a short time after were added to it the two grand duchies of Parma and Placentia.

But I will no longer encroach on the province of the historian. I continued walking during two hours; I then entered the coffee-house of the Rondeau at the gate of the Po, where I met with a little humpbacked man, whom I had formerly known at Paris, at the beginning of the revolution. I shall conceal his name, but all those who have been at Turin will easily recognise him. He was full of humour, wit, and vivacity; he had received very little education, but nature had gifted him with the best of hearts, and the most correct judgment. His deformity did not prevent him from being a favourite with the fair sex; and it was impossible to be more gallant than he was. When I met him, he was with a tall, fine woman of Valpian, a town of Piedmont, whose name was la Volpianina. After having chatted some time with him, I went away, fearful lest I should interrupt his tête-à-tête; thanks to the information he had given me, I was not at a loss how to employ the rest of my day; he had told me that a good French restaurateur, of the name of Dufour, had established himself in the square of the Castle; that, not far from his shop, I should find an excellently selected literary cabinet, at the library of Charles Bocca, and that there was to be performed, that evening, at the theatre of Carignano, la Donna Soldato, an opera by Pavedi, in which I should hear the famous Gafforini. I first went to Dufour’s, where I could almost have fancied myself at Paris, from the manner in which I was entertained, and from the numbers of French who were seated at most of the tables. The Count of S—, a nobleman of Piedmont, who came there regularly, was pointed out to me; two officers of the seventh regiment of cuirassiers, whose dépot was then at Turin, hearing that I had arrived from Paris that day, entered into conversation with me, and informed me who this gentleman was, whose stern countenance had attracted my attention. For the last ten years, the Count of S— had not spoken a word to any one; he pointed with his knife to whatever he wished to be helped to. He often rode on horseback, and frequented the theatre and public walks; but nothing could induce him to break the vow of eternal silence which he had imposed on himself when he was twenty years old, being at that time in possession of a considerable fortune. He had had the misfortune, at that age, to commit an indiscretion, which had occasioned a duel. His most intimate friend had fallen in it, and he had resolved from that time never more to pronounce a single word, upon any temptation or inducement soever.

I arrived at the door of the Carignano theatre, situated opposite the immense, but clumsily-built, palace of that name, which was then the Hotel of the Prefecture. I entered a very small door near a small office, and asked for a ticket giving admission to the best part of the house. A ticket was put into my hands, for which I was charged only twenty sous. I went up the staircase and walked through the galleries, seeking a box-keeper, but no one appeared to assist me in my perplexity. I ascended another flight of stairs, but with no better success. At length I returned to the person in attendance at the door, and endeavoured to make him understand that I wished to be shown into a box. He answered in a jargon as barbarous as it was incomprehensible, no more resembling Italian hanthan [sic] French; and concluded by putting into my hands a key, for which he demanded four francs. I feared that he had not understood my meaning; and I knew not what I might not have asked for, instead of admittance into the box of a theatre. However, several persons coming up, a gentleman from among them perceived my embarrassment, and very politely explained to me, in good French, whence it proceeded. The ticket which I had at first received, was one which gave admittance into the pit; and it conferred upon me the privilege of paying visits in the boxes, provided there was any one of my acquaintance to receive me there. The key admitted me to a box, appropriated entirely to my use; a label attached to it indicated the number of the box, and the side of the house on which it was placed. I wished to enter into conversation with some of my neighbours; but I found that I was quite separated from the rest of the company. As all the other boxes were nearly filled, I found that my solitary situation exposed me to inquisitive glances from all sides; but it was difficult to gratify the curiosity which gave rise to them, as the only lights in the house were two at the entrance of the pit, and two on each side of the stage. The women do not attend the theatre in full dress; and as the price of subscriptions, as well as of boxes engaged for a whole season, is not high, means of amusement are afforded, not beyond the reach of families only moderately rich. Visits are paid and received all evening in the boxes. Some people take a box for a whole season upon speculation. They sometimes send their key to the coffee-house of the theatre, or let it out for an evening. This plan, repeated twenty or thirty times during the three months that the autumn theatre is open, secures to them the use of their box gratis for the rest of the season.

The silk curtains, ornamented at the top with drapery of the same colour, in front of each box, attracted my attention. I was much pleased by the novel and agreeable effect produced by the regular distribution, in each row of boxes, of the colours of blue, red, green, buff, and purple. The house appears more completely furnished than our French theatres, and the absence of spectators is much less perceptible.

I knew by fame la Donna Soldato, and la Gafforini for whom that opera had been composed; they both surpassed my expectations. These counter-alto voices possess an indescribable charm. No Italian actress, before Madam Pasta, whom we have heard at Paris, ever sung and acted with so much expression as la Gafforini. It is even asserted that the effect produced by her was so powerful, that the Viceroy of Italy, immediately after his marriage with the Princess of Bavaria, forbade Gafforini to sing at Milan, the air che vuoi la bella rosa, which she introduced in every opera. This actress enjoyed also a celebrity of a different nature; but I know not how far she had deserved it, notwithstanding the assurances given me on the subject by my witty little hump-backed friend, who is the living chronicle of all upper Italy.

After the first act of la Donna Soldato, I was much astonished to see the performance interrupted, when the curtain was raised the second time. A grand serious ballet was played, in which I saw for the first time i signori groteschi. Among them was il famosissimo Calabrese, then a little on the decline, but whose performance was still astonishing. These buffoons, both men and women, rushed upon the stage, emulating each other in the extravagance of their attitudes, while the pit rung with almost frantic cries of bravi, bravi. Let the reader imagine a crowd of men and women, in unceasing and violent motion; performing feats of agility, running, leaping, and whirling round, with a rapidity which the eye cannot follow, but without any regard to the rules of grace, and he will have a just idea of this performance. The dancing of the buffoons, which is at once heavy and light, has been well described by saying that they rise from the ground like feathers and that they return to it like lead. The art of buffoonery seems to me to be the romance of dancing, and there will be found to exist the same difference between the dangerous leaps of these jumping gentry, and the dancing of Albert and Vestris, that there is between the novels of Le Sage, and the somewhat grotesque productions of M. d’Arlincourt.

After the ballet the opera was continued, which was followed by a second comic opera, in which the buffoons exhibited new feats, as surprising as the former. When the play was over I returned to the hotel of la Bonne Femme, where I made a few notes of the first impressions made on my mind by what I had seen in the most remarkable town in Italy, though I had, at that time, no idea of imparting them to the public.

Liverpool. 



Chapter 6th.—Preparations for the Ball.—Jeremiah Schnackenberger was not naturally of a ferocious disposition; but a military dress had been introduced by some young men of his acquaintance, and he had adopted it, because it freed him from the company of fops, who were his decided aversion. He never began a quarrel himself; but, when he was engaged in one, he made the best of it, and gave as good as he received. For the rest, he attached no great importance to the dress of other people; and he thought they had no right to take notice of his own. He dried himself at a large fire, without caring whether the ablution had improved or disfigured his appearance; yet, as he cast, from time to time, a glance through the window, he could not help remarking, that, among all the passengers, there was not one that looked at all like himself and his friends, and that he should make himself rather too conspicuous by going to a ball in his usual costume: he resolved, therefore, to effect some slight alteration in that respect.

He sent for several tailors, and desired to have either a new coat or to have his surtout shortened in such a manner as to make it look like one: but the tailors declared, unanimously, that they could not enter into any fresh engagements for the day, because they had already more work on hand than they could possibly finish; but, that any day after the present, they should be most happy to serve him. The shoe-makers were not more accommodating; for, although some of them had a stock on hand, their shoes were all too small for his feet. He addressed himself, in this emergency, to his landlady, and she kindly opened forthwith all her trunks and chests for his service: the wardrobe of her late husband had been considerable, but unfortunately his shoes would not fit, and his coats were not only half-an-ell too short, but they had also such a butcher-like appearance, that they could not be turned to any use. Urged to desperation, by so many disappointments, Jeremiah seized at last a pair of large scissors, and cut off the superfluous part of his surtout, which was thus transformed into a dress-coat, in spite of what the tailors had said about the impossibility of the thing and the shortness of the time. This having been accomplished, the boots were also sacrificed, and cut down to a pair of ball-shoes, which had every desirable solidity, and no other defect but that of a rigid stiffness, which would not allow the slender and elegant buckles to take sufficient hold; so that it was necessary for him to move his foot with great caution, to prevent them from springing off. This circumstance proved the more troublesome, as such a manner of walking was in direct opposition to Mr. Schnackenberger’s general habits, and formed a complete contrast to the rest of his demeanour; but it could not be helped. All other needful articles of dress were easily procured; and the hostess declared, upon her conscience, that there would not be a better-looking man than her guest in the whole room. She promised to take care of Jupiter; but was of opinion that the fine silver-chased pipe ought to be taken