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.
The amphitheatre (lately built by Coenonica) is highly magnificent, and of immense proportions, chiefly appropriated to the celebration of the _naumachia_, or naval tournament. We found the city full of English; our attorney-general and Lord K., &c. were in the same hotel with ourselves (_Albergo Reale_); and I should in justice mention, that the master of this inn is one of the most attentive, civil, and obliging persons in the world: I hope all our countrymen will patronise him. In the evening we drove upon the promenade, which is a very fine one, and situated in the best part of the city. We were much struck by the width of the streets adjacent, and by the beauty and dignity of the buildings. Here we met a crowd of equipages, of every denomination and description; yet how mean did they all appear, in comparison with those which throng Hyde Park! I am certain that any English chariot and horses (however plain and unpretending) would have been gazed at, and followed here as a miracle of elegance and beauty. At night we took a box at the Opera (_La Scala_), which is universally allowed to be the largest and most superb in Europe. It was built by Pierre Marini, in 1778, and did indeed amaze us at the first _coup d'oeil_, as a stupendous miracle of art: but we found the same want of brilliancy and cheerfulness as in all other foreign theatres, and the performance (to say nothing of the performers) was execrable. Many of the boxes were shut up; but, by the lights which twinkled through the green latticed blinds, we perceived that persons were in them; and once, upon this sullen screen being casually opened for a few moments, we saw them playing at cards, and eating ices, without the slightest idea of attending to what was passing upon the stage. The latter refreshment is quite indispensable in this hot climate, and it was brought to us in the course of the evening: _Camporese_ was the _prima donna_ here; but we did not see her, as she was unwell during the time of our stay at Milan. A Signora _Gioja_ appeared in her stead, who made us all triste enough by her tame and stupid performance. The ballet was _ennuyant à la mort_: its strength lay in its numbers, and the manner of grouping them; for as to the dancing it was----in short, there was no such thing which properly merited that name. The theatre is far too large for the purposes of hearing (much less of enjoying) music; and there was such a stunning echo, that the noise of the enormous band of musicians in the orchestra was almost rendered insupportable to a delicate and refined ear. They played also (to my indignant astonishment) so loud as to drown the voices of the singers, instead of keeping the instruments under, and subservient to them; which I had imagined was a rule so firmly established, as to render all deviation impossible in a country which boasts itself to be the _veritable_ land of harmony. In short, we infinitely preferred the opera at Turin, and were completely disappointed with _La Scala_. Indeed, I consider our own Opera in the Haymarket (however fastidiously abused by _soi-disant connoisseurs_, and although it appears like a nutshell in point of size, when compared with this overgrown rival), to be indisputably superior in every real advantage. The whole of Italy (as I afterwards learned from some good judges at Geneva) is at present lamentably deficient in talent, both vocal and instrumental; and whatever it affords of any celebrity is sure to come over to England, where a richer harvest is to be reaped than can be found in any other country.