ghastly: especially in the case of a certain Blue Confraternita
belonging to Genoa, who, to say the least of them, are very ugly
customers, and who look – suddenly encountered in their pious
ministration in the streets – as if they were Ghoules or Demons,
bearing off the body for themselves.
Although such a custom may be liable to the abuse attendant on many
Italian customs, of being recognised as a means of establishing a
current account with Heaven, on which to draw, too easily, for
future bad actions, or as an expiation for past misdeeds, it must
be admitted to be a good one, and a practical one, and one
involving unquestionably good works. A voluntary service like
this, is surely better than the imposed penance (not at all an
infrequent one) of giving so many licks to such and such a stone in
the pavement of the cathedral; or than a vow to the Madonna to wear
nothing but blue for a year or two. This is supposed to give great
delight above; blue being (as is well known) the Madonna’s
favourite colour. Women who have devoted themselves to this act of
Faith, are very commonly seen walking in the streets.
There are three theatres in the city, besides an old one now rarely
opened. The most important – the Carlo Felice: the opera-house of
Genoa – is a very splendid, commodious, and beautiful theatre. A
company of comedians were acting there, when we arrived: and soon
after their departure, a second-rate opera company came. The great
season is not until the carnival time – in the spring. Nothing
impressed me, so much, in my visits here (which were pretty
numerous) as the uncommonly hard and cruel character of the
audience, who resent the slightest defect, take nothing goodhumouredly,
seem to be always lying in wait for an opportunity to
hiss, and spare the actresses as little as the actors.
But, as there is nothing else of a public nature at which they are
allowed to express the least disapprobation, perhaps they are
resolved to make the most of this opportunity.
There are a great number of Piedmontese officers too, who are
allowed the privilege of kicking their heels in the pit, for next
to nothing: gratuitous, or cheap accommodation for these gentlemen
being insisted on, by the Governor, in all public or semi-public
entertainments. They are lofty critics in consequence, and
infinitely more exacting than if they made the unhappy manager’s
fortune.
The TEATRO DIURNO, or Day Theatre, is a covered stage in the open
air, where the performances take place by daylight, in the cool of
the afternoon; commencing at four or five o’clock, and lasting,
some three hours. It is curious, sitting among the audience, to
have a fine view of the neighbouring hills and houses, and to see
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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy
the neighbours at their windows looking on, and to hear the bells
of the churches and convents ringing at most complete crosspurposes
with the scene. Beyond this, and the novelty of seeing a
play in the fresh pleasant air, with the darkening evening closing
in, there is nothing very exciting or characteristic in the
performances. The actors are indifferent; and though they
sometimes represent one of Goldoni’s comedies, the staple of the
Drama is French. Anything like nationality is dangerous to
despotic governments, and Jesuit-beleaguered kings.
The Theatre of Puppets, or Marionetti – a famous company from Milan
– is, without any exception, the drollest exhibition I ever beheld
in my life. I never saw anything so exquisitely ridiculous. They
LOOK between four and five feet high, but are really much smaller;
for when a musician in the orchestra happens to put his hat on the
stage, it becomes alarmingly gigantic, and almost blots out an
actor. They usually play a comedy, and a ballet. The comic man in
the comedy I saw one summer night, is a waiter in an hotel. There
never was such a locomotive actor, since the world began. Great
pains are taken with him. He has extra joints in his legs: and a
practical eye, with which he winks at the pit, in a manner that is