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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:28 -0700 |
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diff --git a/650-h/650-h.htm b/650-h/650-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a541cbc --- /dev/null +++ b/650-h/650-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7872 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Pictures from Italy, by Charles Dickens</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Pictures from Italy, by Charles Dickens, +Illustrated by Marcus Stone + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Pictures from Italy + + +Author: Charles Dickens + + + +Release Date: February 17, 2013 [eBook #650] +[This file was first posted on September 17, 1996] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES FROM ITALY*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1913 Chapman & Hall, Ltd. edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>AMERICAN NOTES<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FOR</span><br /> +GENERAL CIRCULATION <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AND</span><br /> +PICTURES FROM ITALY</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLES DICKENS</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">WITH 8 +ILLUSTRATIONS BY</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MARCUS STONE, R.A.</span></p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">LONDON</span><br /> +CHAPMAN & HALL, <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> +1913</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>The Reader’s Passport</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page215">215</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Going through France</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page218">218</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Lyons, the Rhone, and the Goblin of Avignon</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page225">225</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Avignon to Genoa</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page233">233</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Genoa and its Neighbourhood</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page238">238</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>To Parma, Modena, and Bologna</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page264">264</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Through Bologna and Ferrara</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page272">272</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>An Italian Dream</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page277">277</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>By Verona, Mantua, and Milan, across the Pass of the +Simplon into Switzerland</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page284">284</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>To Rome by Pisa and Siena</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page297">297</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Rome</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page308">308</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Rapid Diorama</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page345">345</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Civil and Military</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Marcus Stone</i>, <i>R.A.</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page218">218</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Italian Peasants</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,, ,, ,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page250">250</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Chiffonier</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,, ,, ,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page294">294</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In the Catacombs</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,, ,, ,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page326">326</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 215</span>THE +READER’S PASSPORT</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> the readers of this volume will +be so kind as to take their credentials for the different places +which are the subject of its author’s reminiscences, from +the Author himself, perhaps they may visit them, in fancy, the +more agreeably, and with a better understanding of what they are +to expect.</p> +<p>Many books have been written upon Italy, affording many means +of studying the history of that interesting country, and the +innumerable associations entwined about it. I make but +little reference to that stock of information; not at all +regarding it as a necessary consequence of my having had recourse +to the storehouse for my own benefit, that I should reproduce its +easily accessible contents before the eyes of my readers.</p> +<p>Neither will there be found, in these pages, any grave +examination into the government or misgovernment of any portion +of the country. No visitor of that beautiful land can fail +to have a strong conviction on the subject; but as I chose when +residing there, a Foreigner, to abstain from the discussion of +any such questions with any order of Italians, so I would rather +not enter on the inquiry now. During my twelve +months’ occupation of a house at Genoa, I never found that +authorities constitutionally jealous were distrustful of me; and +I should be sorry to give them occasion to regret their free +courtesy, either to myself or any of my countrymen.</p> +<p>There is, probably, not a famous Picture or Statue in all +Italy, but could be easily buried under a mountain of printed +paper devoted to dissertations on it. I do not, therefore, +though an earnest admirer of Painting and Sculpture, expatiate at +any length on famous Pictures and Statues.</p> +<p>This Book is a series of faint reflections—mere shadows +in the water—of places to which the imaginations of most +people are attracted in a greater or less degree, on which mine +had dwelt for years, and which have some interest for all. +The greater part of the descriptions were written on the spot, +and sent home, from time to time, in private letters. I do +not mention the circumstance as an excuse for any defects they +may present, for it would be none; but as a guarantee to the +Reader that they were at least penned in the fulness of the +subject, and with the liveliest impressions of novelty and +freshness.</p> +<p>If they have ever a fanciful and idle air, perhaps the reader +will suppose them written in the shade of a Sunny Day, in the +midst of the objects of which they treat, and will like them none +the worse for having such influences of the country upon +them.</p> +<p>I hope I am not likely to be misunderstood by Professors of +the Roman Catholic faith, on account of anything contained in +these pages. I have done my best, in one of my former +productions, to do justice to them; and I trust, in this, they +will do justice to me. When I mention any exhibition that +impressed me as absurd or disagreeable, I do not seek to connect +it, or recognise it as necessarily connected with, any essentials +of their creed. When I treat of the ceremonies of the Holy +Week, I merely treat of their effect, and do not challenge the +good and learned Dr. Wiseman’s interpretation of their +meaning. When I hint a dislike of nunneries for young girls +who abjure the world before they have ever proved or known it; or +doubt the <i>ex officio</i> sanctity of all Priests and Friars; I +do no more than many conscientious Catholics both abroad and at +home.</p> +<p>I have likened these Pictures to shadows in the water, and +would fain hope that I have, nowhere, stirred the water so +roughly, as to mar the shadows. I could never desire to be +on better terms with all my friends than now, when distant +mountains rise, once more, in my path. For I need not +hesitate to avow, that, bent on correcting a brief mistake I +made, not long ago, in disturbing the old relations between +myself and my readers, and departing for a moment from my old +pursuits, I am about to resume them, joyfully, in Switzerland; +where during another year of absence, I can at once work out the +themes I have now in my mind, without interruption: and while I +keep my English audience within speaking distance, extend my +knowledge of a noble country, inexpressibly attractive to me. <a +name="citation216"></a><a href="#footnote216" +class="citation">[216]</a></p> +<p>This book is made as accessible as possible, because it would +be a great pleasure to me if I could hope, through its means, to +compare impressions with some among the multitudes who will +hereafter visit the scenes described with interest and +delight.</p> +<p>And I have only now, in passport wise, to sketch my +reader’s portrait, which I hope may be thus +supposititiously traced for either sex:</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Complexion</p> +</td> +<td><p>Fair.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Eyes</p> +</td> +<td><p>Very cheerful.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Nose</p> +</td> +<td><p>Not supercilious.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mouth</p> +</td> +<td><p>Smiling.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Visage</p> +</td> +<td><p>Beaming.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>General Expression</p> +</td> +<td><p>Extremely agreeable.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +218</span>GOING THROUGH FRANCE</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> a fine Sunday morning in the +Midsummer time and weather of eighteen hundred and forty-four, it +was, my good friend, when—don’t be alarmed; not when +two travellers might have been observed slowly making their way +over that picturesque and broken ground by which the first +chapter of a Middle Aged novel is usually attained—but when +an English travelling-carriage of considerable proportions, fresh +from the shady halls of the Pantechnicon near Belgrave Square, +London, was observed (by a very small French soldier; for I saw +him look at it) to issue from the gate of the Hôtel Meurice +in the Rue Rivoli at Paris.</p> +<p>I am no more bound to explain why the English family +travelling by this carriage, inside and out, should be starting +for Italy on a Sunday morning, of all good days in the week, than +I am to assign a reason for all the little men in France being +soldiers, and all the big men postilions; which is the invariable +rule. But, they had some sort of reason for what they did, +I have no doubt; and their reason for being there at all, was, as +you know, that they were going to live in fair Genoa for a year; +and that the head of the family purposed, in that space of time, +to stroll about, wherever his restless humour carried him.</p> +<p>And it would have been small comfort to me to have explained +to the population of Paris generally, that I was that Head and +Chief; and not the radiant embodiment of good humour who sat +beside me in the person of a French Courier—best of +servants and most beaming of men! Truth to say, he looked a +great deal more patriarchal than I, who, in the shadow of his +portly presence, dwindled down to no account at all.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p218b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Civil and military" +title= +"Civil and military" +src="images/p218s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>There was, of course, very little in the aspect of +Paris—as we rattled near the dismal Morgue and over the +Pont Neuf—to reproach us for our Sunday travelling. +The wine-shops (every second house) were driving a roaring trade; +awnings were spreading, and chairs and tables arranging, outside +the cafés, preparatory to the eating of ices, and drinking +of cool liquids, later in the day; shoe-blacks were busy on the +bridges; shops were open; carts and waggons clattered to and fro; +the narrow, up-hill, funnel-like streets across the River, were +so many dense perspectives of crowd and bustle, parti-coloured +nightcaps, tobacco-pipes, blouses, large boots, and shaggy heads +of hair; nothing at that hour denoted a day of rest, unless it +were the appearance, here and there, of a family pleasure-party, +crammed into a bulky old lumbering cab; or of some contemplative +holiday-maker in the freest and easiest dishabille, leaning out +of a low garret window, watching the drying of his newly polished +shoes on the little parapet outside (if a gentleman), or the +airing of her stockings in the sun (if a lady), with calm +anticipation.</p> +<p>Once clear of the never-to-be-forgotten-or-forgiven pavement +which surrounds Paris, the first three days of travelling towards +Marseilles are quiet and monotonous enough. To Sens. +To Avallon. To Chalons. A sketch of one day’s +proceedings is a sketch of all three; and here it is.</p> +<p>We have four horses, and one postilion, who has a very long +whip, and drives his team, something like the Courier of Saint +Petersburgh in the circle at Astley’s or Franconi’s: +only he sits his own horse instead of standing on him. The +immense jack-boots worn by these postilions, are sometimes a +century or two old; and are so ludicrously disproportionate to +the wearer’s foot, that the spur, which is put where his +own heel comes, is generally halfway up the leg of the +boots. The man often comes out of the stable-yard, with his +whip in his hand and his shoes on, and brings out, in both hands, +one boot at a time, which he plants on the ground by the side of +his horse, with great gravity, until everything is ready. +When it is—and oh Heaven! the noise they make about +it!—he gets into the boots, shoes and all, or is hoisted +into them by a couple of friends; adjusts the rope harness, +embossed by the labours of innumerable pigeons in the stables; +makes all the horses kick and plunge; cracks his whip like a +madman; shouts ‘En route—Hi!’ and away we +go. He is sure to have a contest with his horse before we +have gone very far; and then he calls him a Thief, and a Brigand, +and a Pig, and what not; and beats him about the head as if he +were made of wood.</p> +<p>There is little more than one variety in the appearance of the +country, for the first two days. From a dreary plain, to an +interminable avenue, and from an interminable avenue to a dreary +plain again. Plenty of vines there are in the open fields, +but of a short low kind, and not trained in festoons, but about +straight sticks. Beggars innumerable there are, everywhere; +but an extraordinarily scanty population, and fewer children than +I ever encountered. I don’t believe we saw a hundred +children between Paris and Chalons. Queer old towns, +draw-bridged and walled: with odd little towers at the angles, +like grotesque faces, as if the wall had put a mask on, and were +staring down into the moat; other strange little towers, in +gardens and fields, and down lanes, and in farm-yards: all alone, +and always round, with a peaked roof, and never used for any +purpose at all; ruinous buildings of all sorts; sometimes an +hôtel de ville, sometimes a guard-house, sometimes a +dwelling-house, sometimes a château with a rank garden, +prolific in dandelion, and watched over by extinguisher-topped +turrets, and blink-eyed little casements; are the standard +objects, repeated over and over again. Sometimes we pass a +village inn, with a crumbling wall belonging to it, and a perfect +town of out-houses; and painted over the gateway, ‘Stabling +for Sixty Horses;’ as indeed there might be stabling for +sixty score, were there any horses to be stabled there, or +anybody resting there, or anything stirring about the place but a +dangling bush, indicative of the wine inside: which flutters idly +in the wind, in lazy keeping with everything else, and certainly +is never in a green old age, though always so old as to be +dropping to pieces. And all day long, strange little narrow +waggons, in strings of six or eight, bringing cheese from +Switzerland, and frequently in charge, the whole line, of one +man, or even boy—and he very often asleep in the foremost +cart—come jingling past: the horses drowsily ringing the +bells upon their harness, and looking as if they thought (no +doubt they do) their great blue woolly furniture, of immense +weight and thickness, with a pair of grotesque horns growing out +of the collar, very much too warm for the Midsummer weather.</p> +<p>Then, there is the Diligence, twice or thrice a-day; with the +dusty outsides in blue frocks, like butchers; and the insides in +white nightcaps; and its cabriolet head on the roof, nodding and +shaking, like an idiot’s head; and its Young-France +passengers staring out of window, with beards down to their +waists, and blue spectacles awfully shading their warlike eyes, +and very big sticks clenched in their National grasp. Also +the Malle Poste, with only a couple of passengers, tearing along +at a real good dare-devil pace, and out of sight in no +time. Steady old Curés come jolting past, now and +then, in such ramshackle, rusty, musty, clattering coaches as no +Englishman would believe in; and bony women dawdle about in +solitary places, holding cows by ropes while they feed, or +digging and hoeing or doing field-work of a more laborious kind, +or representing real shepherdesses with their flocks—to +obtain an adequate idea of which pursuit and its followers, in +any country, it is only necessary to take any pastoral poem, or +picture, and imagine to yourself whatever is most exquisitely and +widely unlike the descriptions therein contained.</p> +<p>You have been travelling along, stupidly enough, as you +generally do in the last stage of the day; and the ninety-six +bells upon the horses—twenty-four apiece—have been +ringing sleepily in your ears for half an hour or so; and it has +become a very jog-trot, monotonous, tiresome sort of business; +and you have been thinking deeply about the dinner you will have +at the next stage; when, down at the end of the long avenue of +trees through which you are travelling, the first indication of a +town appears, in the shape of some straggling cottages: and the +carriage begins to rattle and roll over a horribly uneven +pavement. As if the equipage were a great firework, and the +mere sight of a smoking cottage chimney had lighted it, instantly +it begins to crack and splutter, as if the very devil were in +it. Crack, crack, crack, crack. +Crack-crack-crack. Crick-crack. Crick-crack. +Helo! Hola! Vite! Voleur! Brigand! +Hi hi hi! En r-r-r-r-r-route! Whip, wheels, driver, +stones, beggars, children, crack, crack, crack; helo! hola! +charité pour l’amour de Dieu! +crick-crack-crick-crack; crick, crick, crick; bump, jolt, crack, +bump, crick-crack; round the corner, up the narrow street, down +the paved hill on the other side; in the gutter; bump, bump; +jolt, jog, crick, crick, crick; crack, crack, crack; into the +shop-windows on the left-hand side of the street, preliminary to +a sweeping turn into the wooden archway on the right; rumble, +rumble, rumble; clatter, clatter, clatter; crick, crick, crick; +and here we are in the yard of the Hôtel de l’Ecu +d’Or; used up, gone out, smoking, spent, exhausted; but +sometimes making a false start unexpectedly, with nothing coming +of it—like a firework to the last!</p> +<p>The landlady of the Hôtel de l’Ecu d’Or is +here; and the landlord of the Hôtel de l’Ecu +d’Or is here; and the femme de chambre of the Hôtel +de l’Ecu d’Or is here; and a gentleman in a glazed +cap, with a red beard like a bosom friend, who is staying at the +Hôtel de l’Ecu d’Or, is here; and Monsieur le +Curé is walking up and down in a corner of the yard by +himself, with a shovel hat upon his head, and a black gown on his +back, and a book in one hand, and an umbrella in the other; and +everybody, except Monsieur le Curé, is open-mouthed and +open-eyed, for the opening of the carriage-door. The +landlord of the Hôtel de l’Ecu d’Or, dotes to +that extent upon the Courier, that he can hardly wait for his +coming down from the box, but embraces his very legs and +boot-heels as he descends. ‘My Courier! My +brave Courier! My friend! My brother!’ +The landlady loves him, the femme de chambre blesses him, the +garçon worships him. The Courier asks if his letter +has been received? It has, it has. Are the rooms +prepared? They are, they are. The best rooms for my +noble Courier. The rooms of state for my gallant Courier; +the whole house is at the service of my best of friends! He +keeps his hand upon the carriage-door, and asks some other +question to enhance the expectation. He carries a green +leathern purse outside his coat, suspended by a belt. The +idlers look at it; one touches it. It is full of five-franc +pieces. Murmurs of admiration are heard among the +boys. The landlord falls upon the Courier’s neck, and +folds him to his breast. He is so much fatter than he was, +he says! He looks so rosy and so well!</p> +<p>The door is opened. Breathless expectation. The +lady of the family gets out. Ah sweet lady! Beautiful +lady! The sister of the lady of the family gets out. +Great Heaven, Ma’amselle is charming! First little +boy gets out. Ah, what a beautiful little boy! First +little girl gets out. Oh, but this is an enchanting +child! Second little girl gets out. The landlady, +yielding to the finest impulse of our common nature, catches her +up in her arms! Second little boy gets out. Oh, the +sweet boy! Oh, the tender little family! The baby is +handed out. Angelic baby! The baby has topped +everything. All the rapture is expended on the baby! +Then the two nurses tumble out; and the enthusiasm swelling into +madness, the whole family are swept up-stairs as on a cloud; +while the idlers press about the carriage, and look into it, and +walk round it, and touch it. For it is something to touch a +carriage that has held so many people. It is a legacy to +leave one’s children.</p> +<p>The rooms are on the first floor, except the nursery for the +night, which is a great rambling chamber, with four or five beds +in it: through a dark passage, up two steps, down four, past a +pump, across a balcony, and next door to the stable. The +other sleeping apartments are large and lofty; each with two +small bedsteads, tastefully hung, like the windows, with red and +white drapery. The sitting-room is famous. Dinner is +already laid in it for three; and the napkins are folded in +cocked-hat fashion. The floors are of red tile. There +are no carpets, and not much furniture to speak of; but there is +abundance of looking-glass, and there are large vases under glass +shades, filled with artificial flowers; and there are plenty of +clocks. The whole party are in motion. The brave +Courier, in particular, is everywhere: looking after the beds, +having wine poured down his throat by his dear brother the +landlord, and picking up green cucumbers—always cucumbers; +Heaven knows where he gets them—with which he walks about, +one in each hand, like truncheons.</p> +<p>Dinner is announced. There is very thin soup; there are +very large loaves—one apiece; a fish; four dishes +afterwards; some poultry afterwards; a dessert afterwards; and no +lack of wine. There is not much in the dishes; but they are +very good, and always ready instantly. When it is nearly +dark, the brave Courier, having eaten the two cucumbers, sliced +up in the contents of a pretty large decanter of oil, and another +of vinegar, emerges from his retreat below, and proposes a visit +to the Cathedral, whose massive tower frowns down upon the +court-yard of the inn. Off we go; and very solemn and grand +it is, in the dim light: so dim at last, that the polite, old, +lanthorn-jawed Sacristan has a feeble little bit of candle in his +hand, to grope among the tombs with—and looks among the +grim columns, very like a lost ghost who is searching for his +own.</p> +<p>Underneath the balcony, when we return, the inferior servants +of the inn are supping in the open air, at a great table; the +dish, a stew of meat and vegetables, smoking hot, and served in +the iron cauldron it was boiled in. They have a pitcher of +thin wine, and are very merry; merrier than the gentleman with +the red beard, who is playing billiards in the light room on the +left of the yard, where shadows, with cues in their hands, and +cigars in their mouths, cross and recross the window, +constantly. Still the thin Curé walks up and down +alone, with his book and umbrella. And there he walks, and +there the billiard-balls rattle, long after we are fast +asleep.</p> +<p>We are astir at six next morning. It is a delightful +day, shaming yesterday’s mud upon the carriage, if anything +could shame a carriage, in a land where carriages are never +cleaned. Everybody is brisk; and as we finish breakfast, +the horses come jingling into the yard from the Post-house. +Everything taken out of the carriage is put back again. The +brave Courier announces that all is ready, after walking into +every room, and looking all round it, to be certain that nothing +is left behind. Everybody gets in. Everybody +connected with the Hôtel de l’Ecu d’Or is again +enchanted. The brave Courier runs into the house for a +parcel containing cold fowl, sliced ham, bread, and biscuits, for +lunch; hands it into the coach; and runs back again.</p> +<p>What has he got in his hand now? More cucumbers? +No. A long strip of paper. It’s the bill.</p> +<p>The brave Courier has two belts on, this morning: one +supporting the purse: another, a mighty good sort of leathern +bottle, filled to the throat with the best light Bordeaux wine in +the house. He never pays the bill till this bottle is +full. Then he disputes it.</p> +<p>He disputes it now, violently. He is still the +landlord’s brother, but by another father or mother. +He is not so nearly related to him as he was last night. +The landlord scratches his head. The brave Courier points +to certain figures in the bill, and intimates that if they remain +there, the Hôtel de l’Ecu d’Or is thenceforth +and for ever an hôtel de l’Ecu de cuivre. The +landlord goes into a little counting-house. The brave +Courier follows, forces the bill and a pen into his hand, and +talks more rapidly than ever. The landlord takes the +pen. The Courier smiles. The landlord makes an +alteration. The Courier cuts a joke. The landlord is +affectionate, but not weakly so. He bears it like a +man. He shakes hands with his brave brother, but he +don’t hug him. Still, he loves his brother; for he +knows that he will be returning that way, one of these fine days, +with another family, and he foresees that his heart will yearn +towards him again. The brave Courier traverses all round +the carriage once, looks at the drag, inspects the wheels, jumps +up, gives the word, and away we go!</p> +<p>It is market morning. The market is held in the little +square outside in front of the cathedral. It is crowded +with men and women, in blue, in red, in green, in white; with +canvassed stalls; and fluttering merchandise. The country +people are grouped about, with their clean baskets before +them. Here, the lace-sellers; there, the butter and +egg-sellers; there, the fruit-sellers; there, the +shoe-makers. The whole place looks as if it were the stage +of some great theatre, and the curtain had just run up, for a +picturesque ballet. And there is the cathedral to boot: +scene-like: all grim, and swarthy, and mouldering, and cold: just +splashing the pavement in one place with faint purple drops, as +the morning sun, entering by a little window on the eastern side, +struggles through some stained glass panes, on the western.</p> +<p>In five minutes we have passed the iron cross, with a little +ragged kneeling-place of turf before it, in the outskirts of the +town; and are again upon the road.</p> +<h2><a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +225</span>LYONS, THE RHONE, AND THE GOBLIN OF AVIGNON</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Chalons</span> is a fair resting-place, in +right of its good inn on the bank of the river, and the little +steamboats, gay with green and red paint, that come and go upon +it: which make up a pleasant and refreshing scene, after the +dusty roads. But, unless you would like to dwell on an +enormous plain, with jagged rows of irregular poplars on it, that +look in the distance like so many combs with broken teeth: and +unless you would like to pass your life without the possibility +of going up-hill, or going up anything but stairs: you would +hardly approve of Chalons as a place of residence.</p> +<p>You would probably like it better, however, than Lyons: which +you may reach, if you will, in one of the before-mentioned +steamboats, in eight hours.</p> +<p>What a city Lyons is! Talk about people feeling, at +certain unlucky times, as if they had tumbled from the +clouds! Here is a whole town that is tumbled, anyhow, out +of the sky; having been first caught up, like other stones that +tumble down from that region, out of fens and barren places, +dismal to behold! The two great streets through which the +two great rivers dash, and all the little streets whose name is +Legion, were scorching, blistering, and sweltering. The +houses, high and vast, dirty to excess, rotten as old cheeses, +and as thickly peopled. All up the hills that hem the city +in, these houses swarm; and the mites inside were lolling out of +the windows, and drying their ragged clothes on poles, and +crawling in and out at the doors, and coming out to pant and gasp +upon the pavement, and creeping in and out among huge piles and +bales of fusty, musty, stifling goods; and living, or rather not +dying till their time should come, in an exhausted +receiver. Every manufacturing town, melted into one, would +hardly convey an impression of Lyons as it presented itself to +me: for all the undrained, unscavengered qualities of a foreign +town, seemed grafted, there, upon the native miseries of a +manufacturing one; and it bears such fruit as I would go some +miles out of my way to avoid encountering again.</p> +<p>In the cool of the evening: or rather in the faded heat of the +day: we went to see the Cathedral, where divers old women, and a +few dogs, were engaged in contemplation. There was no +difference, in point of cleanliness, between its stone pavement +and that of the streets; and there was a wax saint, in a little +box like a berth aboard ship, with a glass front to it, whom +Madame Tussaud would have nothing to say to, on any terms, and +which even Westminster Abbey might be ashamed of. If you +would know all about the architecture of this church, or any +other, its dates, dimensions, endowments, and history, is it not +written in Mr. Murray’s Guide-Book, and may you not read it +there, with thanks to him, as I did!</p> +<p>For this reason, I should abstain from mentioning the curious +clock in Lyons Cathedral, if it were not for a small mistake I +made, in connection with that piece of mechanism. The +keeper of the church was very anxious it should be shown; partly +for the honour of the establishment and the town; and partly, +perhaps, because of his deriving a percentage from the additional +consideration. However that may be, it was set in motion, +and thereupon a host of little doors flew open, and innumerable +little figures staggered out of them, and jerked themselves back +again, with that special unsteadiness of purpose, and hitching in +the gait, which usually attaches to figures that are moved by +clock-work. Meanwhile, the Sacristan stood explaining these +wonders, and pointing them out, severally, with a wand. +There was a centre puppet of the Virgin Mary; and close to her, a +small pigeon-hole, out of which another and a very ill-looking +puppet made one of the most sudden plunges I ever saw +accomplished: instantly flopping back again at sight of her, and +banging his little door violently after him. Taking this to +be emblematic of the victory over Sin and Death, and not at all +unwilling to show that I perfectly understood the subject, in +anticipation of the showman, I rashly said, ‘Aha! The +Evil Spirit. To be sure. He is very soon disposed +of.’ ‘Pardon, Monsieur,’ said the +Sacristan, with a polite motion of his hand towards the little +door, as if introducing somebody—‘The Angel +Gabriel!’</p> +<p>Soon after daybreak next morning, we were steaming down the +Arrowy Rhone, at the rate of twenty miles an hour, in a very +dirty vessel full of merchandise, and with only three or four +other passengers for our companions: among whom, the most +remarkable was a silly, old, meek-faced, garlic-eating, +immeasurably polite Chevalier, with a dirty scrap of red ribbon +hanging at his button-hole, as if he had tied it there to remind +himself of something; as Tom Noddy, in the farce, ties knots in +his pocket-handkerchief.</p> +<p>For the last two days, we had seen great sullen hills, the +first indications of the Alps, lowering in the distance. +Now, we were rushing on beside them: sometimes close beside them: +sometimes with an intervening slope, covered with +vineyards. Villages and small towns hanging in mid-air, +with great woods of olives seen through the light open towers of +their churches, and clouds moving slowly on, upon the steep +acclivity behind them; ruined castles perched on every eminence; +and scattered houses in the clefts and gullies of the hills; made +it very beautiful. The great height of these, too, making +the buildings look so tiny, that they had all the charm of +elegant models; their excessive whiteness, as contrasted with the +brown rocks, or the sombre, deep, dull, heavy green of the +olive-tree; and the puny size, and little slow walk of the +Lilliputian men and women on the bank; made a charming +picture. There were ferries out of number, too; bridges; +the famous Pont d’Esprit, with I don’t know how many +arches; towns where memorable wines are made; Vallence, where +Napoleon studied; and the noble river, bringing at every winding +turn, new beauties into view.</p> +<p>There lay before us, that same afternoon, the broken bridge of +Avignon, and all the city baking in the sun; yet with an +under-done-pie-crust, battlemented wall, that never will be +brown, though it bake for centuries.</p> +<p>The grapes were hanging in clusters in the streets, and the +brilliant Oleander was in full bloom everywhere. The +streets are old and very narrow, but tolerably clean, and shaded +by awnings stretched from house to house. Bright stuffs and +handkerchiefs, curiosities, ancient frames of carved wood, old +chairs, ghostly tables, saints, virgins, angels, and staring +daubs of portraits, being exposed for sale beneath, it was very +quaint and lively. All this was much set off, too, by the +glimpses one caught, through a rusty gate standing ajar, of quiet +sleepy court-yards, having stately old houses within, as silent +as tombs. It was all very like one of the descriptions in +the Arabian Nights. The three one-eyed Calenders might have +knocked at any one of those doors till the street rang again, and +the porter who persisted in asking questions—the man who +had the delicious purchases put into his basket in the +morning—might have opened it quite naturally.</p> +<p>After breakfast next morning, we sallied forth to see the +lions. Such a delicious breeze was blowing in, from the +north, as made the walk delightful: though the pavement-stones, +and stones of the walls and houses, were far too hot to have a +hand laid on them comfortably.</p> +<p>We went, first of all, up a rocky height, to the cathedral: +where Mass was performing to an auditory very like that of Lyons, +namely, several old women, a baby, and a very self-possessed dog, +who had marked out for himself a little course or platform for +exercise, beginning at the altar-rails and ending at the door, up +and down which constitutional walk he trotted, during the +service, as methodically and calmly, as any old gentleman out of +doors.</p> +<p>It is a bare old church, and the paintings in the roof are +sadly defaced by time and damp weather; but the sun was shining +in, splendidly, through the red curtains of the windows, and +glittering on the altar furniture; and it looked as bright and +cheerful as need be.</p> +<p>Going apart, in this church, to see some painting which was +being executed in fresco by a French artist and his pupil, I was +led to observe more closely than I might otherwise have done, a +great number of votive offerings with which the walls of the +different chapels were profusely hung. I will not say +decorated, for they were very roughly and comically got up; most +likely by poor sign-painters, who eke out their living in that +way. They were all little pictures: each representing some +sickness or calamity from which the person placing it there, had +escaped, through the interposition of his or her patron saint, or +of the Madonna; and I may refer to them as good specimens of the +class generally. They are abundant in Italy.</p> +<p>In a grotesque squareness of outline, and impossibility of +perspective, they are not unlike the woodcuts in old books; but +they were oil-paintings, and the artist, like the painter of the +Primrose family, had not been sparing of his colours. In +one, a lady was having a toe amputated—an operation which a +saintly personage had sailed into the room, upon a couch, to +superintend. In another, a lady was lying in bed, tucked up +very tight and prim, and staring with much composure at a tripod, +with a slop-basin on it; the usual form of washing-stand, and the +only piece of furniture, besides the bedstead, in her +chamber. One would never have supposed her to be labouring +under any complaint, beyond the inconvenience of being +miraculously wide awake, if the painter had not hit upon the idea +of putting all her family on their knees in one corner, with +their legs sticking out behind them on the floor, like +boot-trees. Above whom, the Virgin, on a kind of blue +divan, promised to restore the patient. In another case, a +lady was in the very act of being run over, immediately outside +the city walls, by a sort of piano-forte van. But the +Madonna was there again. Whether the supernatural +appearance had startled the horse (a bay griffin), or whether it +was invisible to him, I don’t know; but he was galloping +away, ding dong, without the smallest reverence or +compunction. On every picture ‘Ex voto’ was +painted in yellow capitals in the sky.</p> +<p>Though votive offerings were not unknown in Pagan Temples, and +are evidently among the many compromises made between the false +religion and the true, when the true was in its infancy, I could +wish that all the other compromises were as harmless. +Gratitude and Devotion are Christian qualities; and a grateful, +humble, Christian spirit may dictate the observance.</p> +<p>Hard by the cathedral stands the ancient Palace of the Popes, +of which one portion is now a common jail, and another a noisy +barrack: while gloomy suites of state apartments, shut up and +deserted, mock their own old state and glory, like the embalmed +bodies of kings. But we neither went there, to see state +rooms, nor soldiers’ quarters, nor a common jail, though we +dropped some money into a prisoners’ box outside, whilst +the prisoners, themselves, looked through the iron bars, high up, +and watched us eagerly. We went to see the ruins of the +dreadful rooms in which the Inquisition used to sit.</p> +<p>A little, old, swarthy woman, with a pair of flashing black +eyes,—proof that the world hadn’t conjured down the +devil within her, though it had had between sixty and seventy +years to do it in,—came out of the Barrack Cabaret, of +which she was the keeper, with some large keys in her hands, and +marshalled us the way that we should go. How she told us, +on the way, that she was a Government Officer (<i>concierge du +palais a apostolique</i>), and had been, for I don’t know +how many years; and how she had shown these dungeons to princes; +and how she was the best of dungeon demonstrators; and how she +had resided in the palace from an infant,—had been born +there, if I recollect right,—I needn’t relate. +But such a fierce, little, rapid, sparkling, energetic she-devil +I never beheld. She was alight and flaming, all the +time. Her action was violent in the extreme. She +never spoke, without stopping expressly for the purpose. +She stamped her feet, clutched us by the arms, flung herself into +attitudes, hammered against walls with her keys, for mere +emphasis: now whispered as if the Inquisition were there still: +now shrieked as if she were on the rack herself; and had a +mysterious, hag-like way with her forefinger, when approaching +the remains of some new horror—looking back and walking +stealthily, and making horrible grimaces—that might alone +have qualified her to walk up and down a sick man’s +counterpane, to the exclusion of all other figures, through a +whole fever.</p> +<p>Passing through the court-yard, among groups of idle soldiers, +we turned off by a gate, which this She-Goblin unlocked for our +admission, and locked again behind us: and entered a narrow +court, rendered narrower by fallen stones and heaps of rubbish; +part of it choking up the mouth of a ruined subterranean passage, +that once communicated (or is said to have done so) with another +castle on the opposite bank of the river. Close to this +court-yard is a dungeon—we stood within it, in another +minute—in the dismal tower <i>des oubliettes</i>, where +Rienzi was imprisoned, fastened by an iron chain to the very wall +that stands there now, but shut out from the sky which now looks +down into it. A few steps brought us to the Cachots, in +which the prisoners of the Inquisition were confined for +forty-eight hours after their capture, without food or drink, +that their constancy might be shaken, even before they were +confronted with their gloomy judges. The day has not got in +there yet. They are still small cells, shut in by four +unyielding, close, hard walls; still profoundly dark; still +massively doored and fastened, as of old.</p> +<p>Goblin, looking back as I have described, went softly on, into +a vaulted chamber, now used as a store-room: once the chapel of +the Holy Office. The place where the tribunal sat, was +plain. The platform might have been removed but +yesterday. Conceive the parable of the Good Samaritan +having been painted on the wall of one of these Inquisition +chambers! But it was, and may be traced there yet.</p> +<p>High up in the jealous wall, are niches where the faltering +replies of the accused were heard and noted down. Many of +them had been brought out of the very cell we had just looked +into, so awfully; along the same stone passage. We had +trodden in their very footsteps.</p> +<p>I am gazing round me, with the horror that the place inspires, +when Goblin clutches me by the wrist, and lays, not her skinny +finger, but the handle of a key, upon her lip. She invites +me, with a jerk, to follow her. I do so. She leads me +out into a room adjoining—a rugged room, with a +funnel-shaped, contracting roof, open at the top, to the bright +day. I ask her what it is. She folds her arms, leers +hideously, and stares. I ask again. She glances +round, to see that all the little company are there; sits down +upon a mound of stones; throws up her arms, and yells out, like a +fiend, ‘La Salle de la Question!’</p> +<p>The Chamber of Torture! And the roof was made of that +shape to stifle the victim’s cries! Oh Goblin, +Goblin, let us think of this awhile, in silence. Peace, +Goblin! Sit with your short arms crossed on your short +legs, upon that heap of stones, for only five minutes, and then +flame out again.</p> +<p>Minutes! Seconds are not marked upon the Palace clock, +when, with her eyes flashing fire, Goblin is up, in the middle of +the chamber, describing, with her sunburnt arms, a wheel of heavy +blows. Thus it ran round! cries Goblin. Mash, mash, +mash! An endless routine of heavy hammers. Mash, +mash, mash! upon the sufferer’s limbs. See the stone +trough! says Goblin. For the water torture! Gurgle, +swill, bloat, burst, for the Redeemer’s honour! Suck +the bloody rag, deep down into your unbelieving body, Heretic, at +every breath you draw! And when the executioner plucks it +out, reeking with the smaller mysteries of God’s own Image, +know us for His chosen servants, true believers in the Sermon on +the Mount, elect disciples of Him who never did a miracle but to +heal: who never struck a man with palsy, blindness, deafness, +dumbness, madness, any one affliction of mankind; and never +stretched His blessed hand out, but to give relief and ease!</p> +<p>See! cries Goblin. There the furnace was. There +they made the irons red-hot. Those holes supported the +sharp stake, on which the tortured persons hung poised: dangling +with their whole weight from the roof. ‘But;’ +and Goblin whispers this; ‘Monsieur has heard of this +tower? Yes? Let Monsieur look down, then!’</p> +<p>A cold air, laden with an earthy smell, falls upon the face of +Monsieur; for she has opened, while speaking, a trap-door in the +wall. Monsieur looks in. Downward to the bottom, +upward to the top, of a steep, dark, lofty tower: very dismal, +very dark, very cold. The Executioner of the Inquisition, +says Goblin, edging in her head to look down also, flung those +who were past all further torturing, down here. ‘But +look! does Monsieur see the black stains on the +wall?’ A glance, over his shoulder, at Goblin’s +keen eye, shows Monsieur—and would without the aid of the +directing key—where they are. ‘What are +they?’ ‘Blood!’</p> +<p>In October, 1791, when the Revolution was at its height here, +sixty persons: men and women (‘and priests,’ says +Goblin, ‘priests’): were murdered, and hurled, the +dying and the dead, into this dreadful pit, where a quantity of +quick-lime was tumbled down upon their bodies. Those +ghastly tokens of the massacre were soon no more; but while one +stone of the strong building in which the deed was done, remains +upon another, there they will lie in the memories of men, as +plain to see as the splashing of their blood upon the wall is +now.</p> +<p>Was it a portion of the great scheme of Retribution, that the +cruel deed should be committed in this place! That a part +of the atrocities and monstrous institutions, which had been, for +scores of years, at work, to change men’s nature, should in +its last service, tempt them with the ready means of gratifying +their furious and beastly rage! Should enable them to show +themselves, in the height of their frenzy, no worse than a great, +solemn, legal establishment, in the height of its power! No +worse! Much better. They used the Tower of the +Forgotten, in the name of Liberty—their liberty; an +earth-born creature, nursed in the black mud of the Bastile moats +and dungeons, and necessarily betraying many evidences of its +unwholesome bringing-up—but the Inquisition used it in the +name of Heaven.</p> +<p>Goblin’s finger is lifted; and she steals out again, +into the Chapel of the Holy Office. She stops at a certain +part of the flooring. Her great effect is at hand. +She waits for the rest. She darts at the brave Courier, who +is explaining something; hits him a sounding rap on the hat with +the largest key; and bids him be silent. She assembles us +all, round a little trap-door in the floor, as round a grave.</p> +<p>‘Voilà!’ she darts down at the ring, and +flings the door open with a crash, in her goblin energy, though +it is no light weight. ‘Voilà les +oubliettes! Voilà les oubliettes! +Subterranean! Frightful! Black! Terrible! +Deadly! Les oubliettes de l’Inquisition!’</p> +<p>My blood ran cold, as I looked from Goblin, down into the +vaults, where these forgotten creatures, with recollections of +the world outside: of wives, friends, children, brothers: starved +to death, and made the stones ring with their unavailing +groans. But, the thrill I felt on seeing the accursed wall +below, decayed and broken through, and the sun shining in through +its gaping wounds, was like a sense of victory and triumph. +I felt exalted with the proud delight of living in these +degenerate times, to see it. As if I were the hero of some +high achievement! The light in the doleful vaults was +typical of the light that has streamed in, on all persecution in +God’s name, but which is not yet at its noon! It +cannot look more lovely to a blind man newly restored to sight, +than to a traveller who sees it, calmly and majestically, +treading down the darkness of that Infernal Well.</p> +<h2><a name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +233</span>AVIGNON TO GENOA</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Goblin</span>, having shown <i>les +oubliettes</i>, felt that her great <i>coup</i> was struck. +She let the door fall with a crash, and stood upon it with her +arms a-kimbo, sniffing prodigiously.</p> +<p>When we left the place, I accompanied her into her house, +under the outer gateway of the fortress, to buy a little history +of the building. Her cabaret, a dark, low room, lighted by +small windows, sunk in the thick wall—in the softened +light, and with its forge-like chimney; its little counter by the +door, with bottles, jars, and glasses on it; its household +implements and scraps of dress against the wall; and a +sober-looking woman (she must have a congenial life of it, with +Goblin,) knitting at the door—looked exactly like a picture +by <span class="smcap">Ostade</span>.</p> +<p>I walked round the building on the outside, in a sort of +dream, and yet with the delightful sense of having awakened from +it, of which the light, down in the vaults, had given me the +assurance. The immense thickness and giddy height of the +walls, the enormous strength of the massive towers, the great +extent of the building, its gigantic proportions, frowning +aspect, and barbarous irregularity, awaken awe and wonder. +The recollection of its opposite old uses: an impregnable +fortress, a luxurious palace, a horrible prison, a place of +torture, the court of the Inquisition: at one and the same time, +a house of feasting, fighting, religion, and blood: gives to +every stone in its huge form a fearful interest, and imparts new +meaning to its incongruities. I could think of little, +however, then, or long afterwards, but the sun in the +dungeons. The palace coming down to be the lounging-place +of noisy soldiers, and being forced to echo their rough talk, and +common oaths, and to have their garments fluttering from its +dirty windows, was some reduction of its state, and something to +rejoice at; but the day in its cells, and the sky for the roof of +its chambers of cruelty—that was its desolation and +defeat! If I had seen it in a blaze from ditch to rampart, +I should have felt that not that light, nor all the light in all +the fire that burns, could waste it, like the sunbeams in its +secret council-chamber, and its prisons.</p> +<p>Before I quit this Palace of the Popes, let me translate from +the little history I mentioned just now, a short anecdote, quite +appropriate to itself, connected with its adventures.</p> +<p>‘An ancient tradition relates, that in 1441, a nephew of +Pierre de Lude, the Pope’s legate, seriously insulted some +distinguished ladies of Avignon, whose relations, in revenge, +seized the young man, and horribly mutilated him. For +several years the legate kept <i>his</i> revenge within his own +breast, but he was not the less resolved upon its gratification +at last. He even made, in the fulness of time, advances +towards a complete reconciliation; and when their apparent +sincerity had prevailed, he invited to a splendid banquet, in +this palace, certain families, whole families, whom he sought to +exterminate. The utmost gaiety animated the repast; but the +measures of the legate were well taken. When the dessert +was on the board, a Swiss presented himself, with the +announcement that a strange ambassador solicited an extraordinary +audience. The legate, excusing himself, for the moment, to +his guests, retired, followed by his officers. Within a few +minutes afterwards, five hundred persons were reduced to ashes: +the whole of that wing of the building having been blown into the +air with a terrible explosion!’</p> +<p>After seeing the churches (I will not trouble you with +churches just now), we left Avignon that afternoon. The +heat being very great, the roads outside the walls were strewn +with people fast asleep in every little slip of shade, and with +lazy groups, half asleep and half awake, who were waiting until +the sun should be low enough to admit of their playing bowls +among the burnt-up trees, and on the dusty road. The +harvest here was already gathered in, and mules and horses were +treading out the corn in the fields. We came, at dusk, upon +a wild and hilly country, once famous for brigands; and travelled +slowly up a steep ascent. So we went on, until eleven at +night, when we halted at the town of Aix (within two stages of +Marseilles) to sleep.</p> +<p>The hotel, with all the blinds and shutters closed to keep the +light and heat out, was comfortable and airy next morning, and +the town was very clean; but so hot, and so intensely light, that +when I walked out at noon it was like coming suddenly from the +darkened room into crisp blue fire. The air was so very +clear, that distant hills and rocky points appeared within an +hour’s walk; while the town immediately at hand—with +a kind of blue wind between me and it—seemed to be white +hot, and to be throwing off a fiery air from the surface.</p> +<p>We left this town towards evening, and took the road to +Marseilles. A dusty road it was; the houses shut up close; +and the vines powdered white. At nearly all the cottage +doors, women were peeling and slicing onions into earthen bowls +for supper. So they had been doing last night all the way +from Avignon. We passed one or two shady dark +châteaux, surrounded by trees, and embellished with cool +basins of water: which were the more refreshing to behold, from +the great scarcity of such residences on the road we had +travelled. As we approached Marseilles, the road began to +be covered with holiday people. Outside the public-houses +were parties smoking, drinking, playing draughts and cards, and +(once) dancing. But dust, dust, dust, everywhere. We +went on, through a long, straggling, dirty suburb, thronged with +people; having on our left a dreary slope of land, on which the +country-houses of the Marseilles merchants, always staring white, +are jumbled and heaped without the slightest order: backs, +fronts, sides, and gables towards all points of the compass; +until, at last, we entered the town.</p> +<p>I was there, twice or thrice afterwards, in fair weather and +foul; and I am afraid there is no doubt that it is a dirty and +disagreeable place. But the prospect, from the fortified +heights, of the beautiful Mediterranean, with its lovely rocks +and islands, is most delightful. These heights are a +desirable retreat, for less picturesque reasons—as an +escape from a compound of vile smells perpetually arising from a +great harbour full of stagnant water, and befouled by the refuse +of innumerable ships with all sorts of cargoes: which, in hot +weather, is dreadful in the last degree.</p> +<p>There were foreign sailors, of all nations, in the streets; +with red shirts, blue shirts, buff shirts, tawny shirts, and +shirts of orange colour; with red caps, blue caps, green caps, +great beards, and no beards; in Turkish turbans, glazed English +hats, and Neapolitan head-dresses. There were the +townspeople sitting in clusters on the pavement, or airing +themselves on the tops of their houses, or walking up and down +the closest and least airy of Boulevards; and there were crowds +of fierce-looking people of the lower sort, blocking up the way, +constantly. In the very heart of all this stir and uproar, +was the common madhouse; a low, contracted, miserable building, +looking straight upon the street, without the smallest screen or +court-yard; where chattering mad-men and mad-women were peeping +out, through rusty bars, at the staring faces below, while the +sun, darting fiercely aslant into their little cells, seemed to +dry up their brains, and worry them, as if they were baited by a +pack of dogs.</p> +<p>We were pretty well accommodated at the Hôtel du +Paradis, situated in a narrow street of very high houses, with a +hairdresser’s shop opposite, exhibiting in one of its +windows two full-length waxen ladies, twirling round and round: +which so enchanted the hairdresser himself, that he and his +family sat in arm-chairs, and in cool undresses, on the pavement +outside, enjoying the gratification of the passers-by, with lazy +dignity. The family had retired to rest when we went to +bed, at midnight; but the hairdresser (a corpulent man, in drab +slippers) was still sitting there, with his legs stretched out +before him, and evidently couldn’t bear to have the +shutters put up.</p> +<p>Next day we went down to the harbour, where the sailors of all +nations were discharging and taking in cargoes of all kinds: +fruits, wines, oils, silks, stuffs, velvets, and every manner of +merchandise. Taking one of a great number of lively little +boats with gay-striped awnings, we rowed away, under the sterns +of great ships, under tow-ropes and cables, against and among +other boats, and very much too near the sides of vessels that +were faint with oranges, to the <i>Marie Antoinette</i>, a +handsome steamer bound for Genoa, lying near the mouth of the +harbour. By-and-by, the carriage, that unwieldy +‘trifle from the Pantechnicon,’ on a flat barge, +bumping against everything, and giving occasion for a prodigious +quantity of oaths and grimaces, came stupidly alongside; and by +five o’clock we were steaming out in the open sea. +The vessel was beautifully clean; the meals were served under an +awning on deck; the night was calm and clear; the quiet beauty of +the sea and sky unspeakable.</p> +<p>We were off Nice, early next morning, and coasted along, +within a few miles of the Cornice road (of which more in its +place) nearly all day. We could see Genoa before three; and +watching it as it gradually developed its splendid amphitheatre, +terrace rising above terrace, garden above garden, palace above +palace, height upon height, was ample occupation for us, till we +ran into the stately harbour. Having been duly astonished, +here, by the sight of a few Cappucini monks, who were watching +the fair-weighing of some wood upon the wharf, we drove off to +Albaro, two miles distant, where we had engaged a house.</p> +<p>The way lay through the main streets, but not through the +Strada Nuova, or the Strada Balbi, which are the famous streets +of palaces. I never in my life was so dismayed! The +wonderful novelty of everything, the unusual smells, the +unaccountable filth (though it is reckoned the cleanest of +Italian towns), the disorderly jumbling of dirty houses, one upon +the roof of another; the passages more squalid and more close +than any in St. Giles’s or old Paris; in and out of which, +not vagabonds, but well-dressed women, with white veils and great +fans, were passing and repassing; the perfect absence of +resemblance in any dwelling-house, or shop, or wall, or post, or +pillar, to anything one had ever seen before; and the +disheartening dirt, discomfort, and decay; perfectly confounded +me. I fell into a dismal reverie. I am conscious of a +feverish and bewildered vision of saints and virgins’ +shrines at the street corners—of great numbers of friars, +monks, and soldiers—of vast red curtains, waving in the +doorways of the churches—of always going up hill, and yet +seeing every other street and passage going higher up—of +fruit-stalls, with fresh lemons and oranges hanging in garlands +made of vine-leaves—of a guard-house, and a +drawbridge—and some gateways—and vendors of iced +water, sitting with little trays upon the margin of the +kennel—and this is all the consciousness I had, until I was +set down in a rank, dull, weedy court-yard, attached to a kind of +pink jail; and was told I lived there.</p> +<p>I little thought, that day, that I should ever come to have an +attachment for the very stones in the streets of Genoa, and to +look back upon the city with affection as connected with many +hours of happiness and quiet! But these are my first +impressions honestly set down; and how they changed, I will set +down too. At present, let us breathe after this long-winded +journey.</p> +<h2><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +238</span>GENOA AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first impressions of such a +place as <span class="smcap">Albaro</span>, the suburb of Genoa, +where I am now, as my American friends would say, +‘located,’ can hardly fail, I should imagine, to be +mournful and disappointing. It requires a little time and +use to overcome the feeling of depression consequent, at first, +on so much ruin and neglect. Novelty, pleasant to most +people, is particularly delightful, I think, to me. I am +not easily dispirited when I have the means of pursuing my own +fancies and occupations; and I believe I have some natural +aptitude for accommodating myself to circumstances. But, as +yet, I stroll about here, in all the holes and corners of the +neighbourhood, in a perpetual state of forlorn surprise; and +returning to my villa: the Villa Bagnerello (it sounds romantic, +but Signor Bagnerello is a butcher hard by): have sufficient +occupation in pondering over my new experiences, and comparing +them, very much to my own amusement, with my expectations, until +I wander out again.</p> +<p>The Villa Bagnerello: or the Pink Jail, a far more expressive +name for the mansion: is in one of the most splendid situations +imaginable. The noble bay of Genoa, with the deep blue +Mediterranean, lies stretched out near at hand; monstrous old +desolate houses and palaces are dotted all about; lofty hills, +with their tops often hidden in the clouds, and with strong forts +perched high up on their craggy sides, are close upon the left; +and in front, stretching from the walls of the house, down to a +ruined chapel which stands upon the bold and picturesque rocks on +the sea-shore, are green vineyards, where you may wander all day +long in partial shade, through interminable vistas of grapes, +trained on a rough trellis-work across the narrow paths.</p> +<p>This sequestered spot is approached by lanes so very narrow, +that when we arrived at the Custom-house, we found the people +here had <i>taken the measure</i> of the narrowest among them, +and were waiting to apply it to the carriage; which ceremony was +gravely performed in the street, while we all stood by in +breathless suspense. It was found to be a very tight fit, +but just a possibility, and no more—as I am reminded every +day, by the sight of various large holes which it punched in the +walls on either side as it came along. We are more +fortunate, I am told, than an old lady, who took a house in these +parts not long ago, and who stuck fast in <i>her</i> carriage in +a lane; and as it was impossible to open one of the doors, she +was obliged to submit to the indignity of being hauled through +one of the little front windows, like a harlequin.</p> +<p>When you have got through these narrow lanes, you come to an +archway, imperfectly stopped up by a rusty old gate—my +gate. The rusty old gate has a bell to correspond, which +you ring as long as you like, and which nobody answers, as it has +no connection whatever with the house. But there is a rusty +old knocker, too—very loose, so that it slides round when +you touch it—and if you learn the trick of it, and knock +long enough, somebody comes. The brave Courier comes, and +gives you admittance. You walk into a seedy little garden, +all wild and weedy, from which the vineyard opens; cross it, +enter a square hall like a cellar, walk up a cracked marble +staircase, and pass into a most enormous room with a vaulted roof +and whitewashed walls: not unlike a great Methodist chapel. +This is the <i>sala</i>. It has five windows and five +doors, and is decorated with pictures which would gladden the +heart of one of those picture-cleaners in London who hang up, as +a sign, a picture divided, like death and the lady, at the top of +the old ballad: which always leaves you in a state of uncertainty +whether the ingenious professor has cleaned one half, or dirtied +the other. The furniture of this <i>sala</i> is a sort of +red brocade. All the chairs are immovable, and the sofa +weighs several tons.</p> +<p>On the same floor, and opening out of this same chamber, are +dining-room, drawing-room, and divers bedrooms: each with a +multiplicity of doors and windows. Up-stairs are divers +other gaunt chambers, and a kitchen; and down-stairs is another +kitchen, which, with all sorts of strange contrivances for +burning charcoal, looks like an alchemical laboratory. +There are also some half-dozen small sitting-rooms, where the +servants in this hot July, may escape from the heat of the fire, +and where the brave Courier plays all sorts of musical +instruments of his own manufacture, all the evening long. A +mighty old, wandering, ghostly, echoing, grim, bare house it is, +as ever I beheld or thought of.</p> +<p>There is a little vine-covered terrace, opening from the +drawing-room; and under this terrace, and forming one side of the +little garden, is what used to be the stable. It is now a +cow-house, and has three cows in it, so that we get new milk by +the bucketful. There is no pasturage near, and they never +go out, but are constantly lying down, and surfeiting themselves +with vine-leaves—perfect Italian cows enjoying the <i>dolce +far’ niente</i> all day long. They are presided over, +and slept with, by an old man named Antonio, and his son; two +burnt-sienna natives with naked legs and feet, who wear, each, a +shirt, a pair of trousers, and a red sash, with a relic, or some +sacred charm like the bonbon off a twelfth-cake, hanging round +the neck. The old man is very anxious to convert me to the +Catholic faith, and exhorts me frequently. We sit upon a +stone by the door, sometimes in the evening, like Robinson Crusoe +and Friday reversed; and he generally relates, towards my +conversion, an abridgment of the History of Saint +Peter—chiefly, I believe, from the unspeakable delight he +has in his imitation of the cock.</p> +<p>The view, as I have said, is charming; but in the day you must +keep the lattice-blinds close shut, or the sun would drive you +mad; and when the sun goes down you must shut up all the windows, +or the mosquitoes would tempt you to commit suicide. So at +this time of the year, you don’t see much of the prospect +within doors. As for the flies, you don’t mind +them. Nor the fleas, whose size is prodigious, and whose +name is Legion, and who populate the coach-house to that extent +that I daily expect to see the carriage going off bodily, drawn +by myriads of industrious fleas in harness. The rats are +kept away, quite comfortably, by scores of lean cats, who roam +about the garden for that purpose. The lizards, of course, +nobody cares for; they play in the sun, and don’t +bite. The little scorpions are merely curious. The +beetles are rather late, and have not appeared yet. The +frogs are company. There is a preserve of them in the +grounds of the next villa; and after nightfall, one would think +that scores upon scores of women in pattens were going up and +down a wet stone pavement without a moment’s +cessation. That is exactly the noise they make.</p> +<p>The ruined chapel, on the picturesque and beautiful sea-shore, +was dedicated, once upon a time, to Saint John the Baptist. +I believe there is a legend that Saint John’s bones were +received there, with various solemnities, when they were first +brought to Genoa; for Genoa possesses them to this day. +When there is any uncommon tempest at sea, they are brought out +and exhibited to the raging weather, which they never fail to +calm. In consequence of this connection of Saint John with +the city, great numbers of the common people are christened +Giovanni Baptista, which latter name is pronounced in the Genoese +patois ‘Batcheetcha,’ like a sneeze. To hear +everybody calling everybody else Batcheetcha, on a Sunday, or +festa-day, when there are crowds in the streets, is not a little +singular and amusing to a stranger.</p> +<p>The narrow lanes have great villas opening into them, whose +walls (outside walls, I mean) are profusely painted with all +sorts of subjects, grim and holy. But time and the sea-air +have nearly obliterated them; and they look like the entrance to +Vauxhall Gardens on a sunny day. The court-yards of these +houses are overgrown with grass and weeds; all sorts of hideous +patches cover the bases of the statues, as if they were afflicted +with a cutaneous disorder; the outer gates are rusty; and the +iron bars outside the lower windows are all tumbling down. +Firewood is kept in halls where costly treasures might be heaped +up, mountains high; waterfalls are dry and choked; fountains, too +dull to play, and too lazy to work, have just enough recollection +of their identity, in their sleep, to make the neighbourhood +damp; and the sirocco wind is often blowing over all these things +for days together, like a gigantic oven out for a holiday.</p> +<p>Not long ago, there was a festa-day, in honour of the +<i>Virgin’s mother</i>, when the young men of the +neighbourhood, having worn green wreaths of the vine in some +procession or other, bathed in them, by scores. It looked +very odd and pretty. Though I am bound to confess (not +knowing of the festa at that time), that I thought, and was quite +satisfied, they wore them as horses do—to keep the flies +off.</p> +<p>Soon afterwards, there was another festa-day, in honour of St. +Nazaro. One of the Albaro young men brought two large +bouquets soon after breakfast, and coming up-stairs into the +great <i>sala</i>, presented them himself. This was a +polite way of begging for a contribution towards the expenses of +some music in the Saint’s honour, so we gave him whatever +it may have been, and his messenger departed: well +satisfied. At six o’clock in the evening we went to +the church—close at hand—a very gaudy place, hung all +over with festoons and bright draperies, and filled, from the +altar to the main door, with women, all seated. They wear +no bonnets here, simply a long white veil—the +‘mezzero;’ and it was the most gauzy, +ethereal-looking audience I ever saw. The young women are +not generally pretty, but they walk remarkably well, and in their +personal carriage and the management of their veils, display much +innate grace and elegance. There were some men present: not +very many: and a few of these were kneeling about the aisles, +while everybody else tumbled over them. Innumerable tapers +were burning in the church; the bits of silver and tin about the +saints (especially in the Virgin’s necklace) sparkled +brilliantly; the priests were seated about the chief altar; the +organ played away, lustily, and a full band did the like; while a +conductor, in a little gallery opposite to the band, hammered +away on the desk before him, with a scroll; and a tenor, without +any voice, sang. The band played one way, the organ played +another, the singer went a third, and the unfortunate conductor +banged and banged, and flourished his scroll on some principle of +his own: apparently well satisfied with the whole +performance. I never did hear such a discordant din. +The heat was intense all the time.</p> +<p>The men, in red caps, and with loose coats hanging on their +shoulders (they never put them on), were playing bowls, and +buying sweetmeats, immediately outside the church. When +half-a-dozen of them finished a game, they came into the aisle, +crossed themselves with the holy water, knelt on one knee for an +instant, and walked off again to play another game at +bowls. They are remarkably expert at this diversion, and +will play in the stony lanes and streets, and on the most uneven +and disastrous ground for such a purpose, with as much nicety as +on a billiard-table. But the most favourite game is the +national one of Mora, which they pursue with surprising ardour, +and at which they will stake everything they possess. It is +a destructive kind of gambling, requiring no accessories but the +ten fingers, which are always—I intend no pun—at +hand. Two men play together. One calls a +number—say the extreme one, ten. He marks what +portion of it he pleases by throwing out three, or four, or five +fingers; and his adversary has, in the same instant, at hazard, +and without seeing his hand, to throw out as many fingers, as +will make the exact balance. Their eyes and hands become so +used to this, and act with such astonishing rapidity, that an +uninitiated bystander would find it very difficult, if not +impossible, to follow the progress of the game. The +initiated, however, of whom there is always an eager group +looking on, devour it with the most intense avidity; and as they +are always ready to champion one side or the other in case of a +dispute, and are frequently divided in their partisanship, it is +often a very noisy proceeding. It is never the quietest +game in the world; for the numbers are always called in a loud +sharp voice, and follow as close upon each other as they can be +counted. On a holiday evening, standing at a window, or +walking in a garden, or passing through the streets, or +sauntering in any quiet place about the town, you will hear this +game in progress in a score of wine-shops at once; and looking +over any vineyard walk, or turning almost any corner, will come +upon a knot of players in full cry. It is observable that +most men have a propensity to throw out some particular number +oftener than another; and the vigilance with which two sharp-eyed +players will mutually endeavour to detect this weakness, and +adapt their game to it, is very curious and entertaining. +The effect is greatly heightened by the universal suddenness and +vehemence of gesture; two men playing for half a farthing with an +intensity as all-absorbing as if the stake were life.</p> +<p>Hard by here is a large Palazzo, formerly belonging to some +member of the Brignole family, but just now hired by a school of +Jesuits for their summer quarters. I walked into its +dismantled precincts the other evening about sunset, and +couldn’t help pacing up and down for a little time, +drowsily taking in the aspect of the place: which is repeated +hereabouts in all directions.</p> +<p>I loitered to and fro, under a colonnade, forming two sides of +a weedy, grass-grown court-yard, whereof the house formed a third +side, and a low terrace-walk, overlooking the garden and the +neighbouring hills, the fourth. I don’t believe there +was an uncracked stone in the whole pavement. In the centre +was a melancholy statue, so piebald in its decay, that it looked +exactly as if it had been covered with sticking-plaster, and +afterwards powdered. The stables, coach-houses, offices, +were all empty, all ruinous, all utterly deserted.</p> +<p>Doors had lost their hinges, and were holding on by their +latches; windows were broken, painted plaster had peeled off, and +was lying about in clods; fowls and cats had so taken possession +of the out-buildings, that I couldn’t help thinking of the +fairy tales, and eyeing them with suspicion, as transformed +retainers, waiting to be changed back again. One old Tom in +particular: a scraggy brute, with a hungry green eye (a poor +relation, in reality, I am inclined to think): came prowling +round and round me, as if he half believed, for the moment, that +I might be the hero come to marry the lady, and set all +to-rights; but discovering his mistake, he suddenly gave a grim +snarl, and walked away with such a tremendous tail, that he +couldn’t get into the little hole where he lived, but was +obliged to wait outside, until his indignation and his tail had +gone down together.</p> +<p>In a sort of summer-house, or whatever it may be, in this +colonnade, some Englishmen had been living, like grubs in a nut; +but the Jesuits had given them notice to go, and they had gone, +and <i>that</i> was shut up too. The house: a wandering, +echoing, thundering barrack of a place, with the lower windows +barred up, as usual, was wide open at the door: and I have no +doubt I might have gone in, and gone to bed, and gone dead, and +nobody a bit the wiser. Only one suite of rooms on an upper +floor was tenanted; and from one of these, the voice of a +young-lady vocalist, practising bravura lustily, came flaunting +out upon the silent evening.</p> +<p>I went down into the garden, intended to be prim and quaint, +with avenues, and terraces, and orange-trees, and statues, and +water in stone basins; and everything was green, gaunt, weedy, +straggling, under grown or over grown, mildewy, damp, redolent of +all sorts of slabby, clammy, creeping, and uncomfortable +life. There was nothing bright in the whole scene but a +firefly—one solitary firefly—showing against the dark +bushes like the last little speck of the departed Glory of the +house; and even it went flitting up and down at sudden angles, +and leaving a place with a jerk, and describing an irregular +circle, and returning to the same place with a twitch that +startled one: as if it were looking for the rest of the Glory, +and wondering (Heaven knows it might!) what had become of it.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>In the course of two months, the flitting shapes and shadows +of my dismal entering reverie gradually resolved themselves into +familiar forms and substances; and I already began to think that +when the time should come, a year hence, for closing the long +holiday and turning back to England, I might part from Genoa with +anything but a glad heart.</p> +<p>It is a place that ‘grows upon you’ every +day. There seems to be always something to find out in +it. There are the most extraordinary alleys and by-ways to +walk about in. You can lose your way (what a comfort that +is, when you are idle!) twenty times a day, if you like; and turn +up again, under the most unexpected and surprising +difficulties. It abounds in the strangest contrasts; things +that are picturesque, ugly, mean, magnificent, delightful, and +offensive, break upon the view at every turn.</p> +<p>They who would know how beautiful the country immediately +surrounding Genoa is, should climb (in clear weather) to the top +of Monte Faccio, or, at least, ride round the city walls: a feat +more easily performed. No prospect can be more diversified +and lovely than the changing views of the harbour, and the +valleys of the two rivers, the Polcevera and the Bizagno, from +the heights along which the strongly fortified walls are carried, +like the great wall of China in little. In not the least +picturesque part of this ride, there is a fair specimen of a real +Genoese tavern, where the visitor may derive good entertainment +from real Genoese dishes, such as Tagliarini; Ravioli; German +sausages, strong of garlic, sliced and eaten with fresh green +figs; cocks’ combs and sheep-kidneys, chopped up with +mutton chops and liver; small pieces of some unknown part of a +calf, twisted into small shreds, fried, and served up in a great +dish like white-bait; and other curiosities of that kind. +They often get wine at these suburban Trattorie, from France and +Spain and Portugal, which is brought over by small captains in +little trading-vessels. They buy it at so much a bottle, +without asking what it is, or caring to remember if anybody tells +them, and usually divide it into two heaps; of which they label +one Champagne, and the other Madeira. The various opposite +flavours, qualities, countries, ages, and vintages that are +comprised under these two general heads is quite +extraordinary. The most limited range is probably from cool +Gruel up to old Marsala, and down again to apple Tea.</p> +<p>The great majority of the streets are as narrow as any +thoroughfare can well be, where people (even Italian people) are +supposed to live and walk about; being mere lanes, with here and +there a kind of well, or breathing-place. The houses are +immensely high, painted in all sorts of colours, and are in every +stage and state of damage, dirt, and lack of repair. They +are commonly let off in floors, or flats, like the houses in the +old town of Edinburgh, or many houses in Paris. There are +few street doors; the entrance halls are, for the most part, +looked upon as public property; and any moderately enterprising +scavenger might make a fine fortune by now and then clearing them +out. As it is impossible for coaches to penetrate into +these streets, there are sedan chairs, gilded and otherwise, for +hire in divers places. A great many private chairs are also +kept among the nobility and gentry; and at night these are +trotted to and fro in all directions, preceded by bearers of +great lanthorns, made of linen stretched upon a frame. The +sedans and lanthorns are the legitimate successors of the long +strings of patient and much-abused mules, that go jingling their +little bells through these confined streets all day long. +They follow them, as regularly as the stars the sun.</p> +<p>When shall I forget the Streets of Palaces: the Strada Nuova +and the Strada Balbi! or how the former looked one summer day, +when I first saw it underneath the brightest and most intensely +blue of summer skies: which its narrow perspective of immense +mansions, reduced to a tapering and most precious strip of +brightness, looking down upon the heavy shade below! A +brightness not too common, even in July and August, to be well +esteemed: for, if the Truth must out, there were not eight blue +skies in as many midsummer weeks, saving, sometimes, early in the +morning; when, looking out to sea, the water and the firmament +were one world of deep and brilliant blue. At other times, +there were clouds and haze enough to make an Englishman grumble +in his own climate.</p> +<p>The endless details of these rich Palaces: the walls of some +of them, within, alive with masterpieces by Vandyke! The +great, heavy, stone balconies, one above another, and tier over +tier: with here and there, one larger than the rest, towering +high up—a huge marble platform; the doorless vestibules, +massively barred lower windows, immense public staircases, thick +marble pillars, strong dungeon-like arches, and dreary, dreaming, +echoing vaulted chambers: among which the eye wanders again, and +again, and again, as every palace is succeeded by +another—the terrace gardens between house and house, with +green arches of the vine, and groves of orange-trees, and +blushing oleander in full bloom, twenty, thirty, forty feet above +the street—the painted halls, mouldering, and blotting, and +rotting in the damp corners, and still shining out in beautiful +colours and voluptuous designs, where the walls are dry—the +faded figures on the outsides of the houses, holding wreaths, and +crowns, and flying upward, and downward, and standing in niches, +and here and there looking fainter and more feeble than +elsewhere, by contrast with some fresh little Cupids, who on a +more recently decorated portion of the front, are stretching out +what seems to be the semblance of a blanket, but is, indeed, a +sun-dial—the steep, steep, up-hill streets of small palaces +(but very large palaces for all that), with marble terraces +looking down into close by-ways—the magnificent and +innumerable Churches; and the rapid passage from a street of +stately edifices, into a maze of the vilest squalor, steaming +with unwholesome stenches, and swarming with half-naked children +and whole worlds of dirty people—make up, altogether, such +a scene of wonder: so lively, and yet so dead: so noisy, and yet +so quiet: so obtrusive, and yet so shy and lowering: so wide +awake, and yet so fast asleep: that it is a sort of intoxication +to a stranger to walk on, and on, and on, and look about +him. A bewildering phantasmagoria, with all the +inconsistency of a dream, and all the pain and all the pleasure +of an extravagant reality!</p> +<p>The different uses to which some of these Palaces are applied, +all at once, is characteristic. For instance, the English +Banker (my excellent and hospitable friend) has his office in a +good-sized Palazzo in the Strada Nuova. In the hall (every +inch of which is elaborately painted, but which is as dirty as a +police-station in London), a hook-nosed Saracen’s Head with +an immense quantity of black hair (there is a man attached to it) +sells walking-sticks. On the other side of the doorway, a +lady with a showy handkerchief for head-dress (wife to the +Saracen’s Head, I believe) sells articles of her own +knitting; and sometimes flowers. A little further in, two +or three blind men occasionally beg. Sometimes, they are +visited by a man without legs, on a little go-cart, but who has +such a fresh-coloured, lively face, and such a respectable, +well-conditioned body, that he looks as if he had sunk into the +ground up to his middle, or had come, but partially, up a flight +of cellar-steps to speak to somebody. A little further in, +a few men, perhaps, lie asleep in the middle of the day; or they +may be chairmen waiting for their absent freight. If so, +they have brought their chairs in with them, and there +<i>they</i> stand also. On the left of the hall is a little +room: a hatter’s shop. On the first floor, is the +English bank. On the first floor also, is a whole house, +and a good large residence too. Heaven knows what there may +be above that; but when you are there, you have only just begun +to go up-stairs. And yet, coming down-stairs again, +thinking of this; and passing out at a great crazy door in the +back of the hall, instead of turning the other way, to get into +the street again; it bangs behind you, making the dismallest and +most lonesome echoes, and you stand in a yard (the yard of the +same house) which seems to have been unvisited by human foot, for +a hundred years. Not a sound disturbs its repose. Not +a head, thrust out of any of the grim, dark, jealous windows, +within sight, makes the weeds in the cracked pavement faint of +heart, by suggesting the possibility of there being hands to grub +them up. Opposite to you, is a giant figure carved in +stone, reclining, with an urn, upon a lofty piece of artificial +rockwork; and out of the urn, dangles the fag end of a leaden +pipe, which, once upon a time, poured a small torrent down the +rocks. But the eye-sockets of the giant are not drier than +this channel is now. He seems to have given his urn, which +is nearly upside down, a final tilt; and after crying, like a +sepulchral child, ‘All gone!’ to have lapsed into a +stony silence.</p> +<p>In the streets of shops, the houses are much smaller, but of +great size notwithstanding, and extremely high. They are +very dirty: quite undrained, if my nose be at all reliable: and +emit a peculiar fragrance, like the smell of very bad cheese, +kept in very hot blankets. Notwithstanding the height of +the houses, there would seem to have been a lack of room in the +City, for new houses are thrust in everywhere. Wherever it +has been possible to cram a tumble-down tenement into a crack or +corner, in it has gone. If there be a nook or angle in the +wall of a church, or a crevice in any other dead wall, of any +sort, there you are sure to find some kind of habitation: looking +as if it had grown there, like a fungus. Against the +Government House, against the old Senate House, round about any +large building, little shops stick so close, like parasite vermin +to the great carcase. And for all this, look where you may: +up steps, down steps, anywhere, everywhere: there are irregular +houses, receding, starting forward, tumbling down, leaning +against their neighbours, crippling themselves or their friends +by some means or other, until one, more irregular than the rest, +chokes up the way, and you can’t see any further.</p> +<p>One of the rottenest-looking parts of the town, I think, is +down by the landing-wharf: though it may be, that its being +associated with a great deal of rottenness on the evening of our +arrival, has stamped it deeper in my mind. Here, again, the +houses are very high, and are of an infinite variety of deformed +shapes, and have (as most of the houses have) something hanging +out of a great many windows, and wafting its frowsy fragrance on +the breeze. Sometimes, it is a curtain; sometimes, it is a +carpet; sometimes, it is a bed; sometimes, a whole line-full of +clothes; but there is almost always something. Before the +basement of these houses, is an arcade over the pavement: very +massive, dark, and low, like an old crypt. The stone, or +plaster, of which it is made, has turned quite black; and against +every one of these black piles, all sorts of filth and garbage +seem to accumulate spontaneously. Beneath some of the +arches, the sellers of macaroni and polenta establish their +stalls, which are by no means inviting. The offal of a +fish-market, near at hand—that is to say, of a back lane, +where people sit upon the ground and on various old bulk-heads +and sheds, and sell fish when they have any to dispose +of—and of a vegetable market, constructed on the same +principle—are contributed to the decoration of this +quarter; and as all the mercantile business is transacted here, +and it is crowded all day, it has a very decided flavour about +it. The Porto Franco, or Free Port (where goods brought in +from foreign countries pay no duty until they are sold and taken +out, as in a bonded warehouse in England), is down here also; and +two portentous officials, in cocked hats, stand at the gate to +search you if they choose, and to keep out Monks and +Ladies. For, Sanctity as well as Beauty has been known to +yield to the temptation of smuggling, and in the same way: that +is to say, by concealing the smuggled property beneath the loose +folds of its dress. So Sanctity and Beauty may, by no +means, enter.</p> +<p>The streets of Genoa would be all the better for the +importation of a few Priests of prepossessing appearance. +Every fourth or fifth man in the streets is a Priest or a Monk; +and there is pretty sure to be at least one itinerant +ecclesiastic inside or outside every hackney carriage on the +neighbouring roads. I have no knowledge, elsewhere, of more +repulsive countenances than are to be found among these +gentry. If Nature’s handwriting be at all legible, +greater varieties of sloth, deceit, and intellectual torpor, +could hardly be observed among any class of men in the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Pepys</span> once heard a clergyman +assert in his sermon, in illustration of his respect for the +Priestly office, that if he could meet a Priest and angel +together, he would salute the Priest first. I am rather of +the opinion of <span class="smcap">Petrarch</span>, who, when his +pupil <span class="smcap">Boccaccio</span> wrote to him in great +tribulation, that he had been visited and admonished for his +writings by a Carthusian Friar who claimed to be a messenger +immediately commissioned by Heaven for that purpose, replied, +that for his own part, he would take the liberty of testing the +reality of the commission by personal observation of the +Messenger’s face, eyes, forehead, behaviour, and +discourse. I cannot but believe myself, from similar +observation, that many unaccredited celestial messengers may be +seen skulking through the streets of Genoa, or droning away their +lives in other Italian towns.</p> +<p>Perhaps the Cappuccíni, though not a learned body, are, +as an order, the best friends of the people. They seem to +mingle with them more immediately, as their counsellors and +comforters; and to go among them more, when they are sick; and to +pry less than some other orders, into the secrets of families, +for the purpose of establishing a baleful ascendency over their +weaker members; and to be influenced by a less fierce desire to +make converts, and once made, to let them go to ruin, soul and +body. They may be seen, in their coarse dress, in all parts +of the town at all times, and begging in the markets early in the +morning. The Jesuits too, muster strong in the streets, and +go slinking noiselessly about, in pairs, like black cats.</p> +<p>In some of the narrow passages, distinct trades +congregate. There is a street of jewellers, and there is a +row of booksellers; but even down in places where nobody ever +can, or ever could, penetrate in a carriage, there are mighty old +palaces shut in among the gloomiest and closest walls, and almost +shut out from the sun. Very few of the tradesmen have any +idea of setting forth their goods, or disposing them for +show. If you, a stranger, want to buy anything, you usually +look round the shop till you see it; then clutch it, if it be +within reach, and inquire how much. Everything is sold at +the most unlikely place. If you want coffee, you go to a +sweetmeat shop; and if you want meat, you will probably find it +behind an old checked curtain, down half-a-dozen steps, in some +sequestered nook as hard to find as if the commodity were poison, +and Genoa’s law were death to any that uttered it.</p> +<p>Most of the apothecaries’ shops are great +lounging-places. Here, grave men with sticks, sit down in +the shade for hours together, passing a meagre Genoa paper from +hand to hand, and talking, drowsily and sparingly, about the +News. Two or three of these are poor physicians, ready to +proclaim themselves on an emergency, and tear off with any +messenger who may arrive. You may know them by the way in +which they stretch their necks to listen, when you enter; and by +the sigh with which they fall back again into their dull corners, +on finding that you only want medicine. Few people lounge +in the barbers’ shops; though they are very numerous, as +hardly any man shaves himself. But the apothecary’s +has its group of loungers, who sit back among the bottles, with +their hands folded over the tops of their sticks. So still +and quiet, that either you don’t see them in the darkened +shop, or mistake them—as I did one ghostly man in +bottle-green, one day, with a hat like a stopper—for Horse +Medicine.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>On a summer evening the Genoese are as fond of putting +themselves, as their ancestors were of putting houses, in every +available inch of space in and about the town. In all the +lanes and alleys, and up every little ascent, and on every dwarf +wall, and on every flight of steps, they cluster like bees. +Meanwhile (and especially on festa-days) the bells of the +churches ring incessantly; not in peals, or any known form of +sound, but in a horrible, irregular, jerking, dingle, dingle, +dingle: with a sudden stop at every fifteenth dingle or so, which +is maddening. This performance is usually achieved by a boy +up in the steeple, who takes hold of the clapper, or a little +rope attached to it, and tries to dingle louder than every other +boy similarly employed. The noise is supposed to be +particularly obnoxious to Evil Spirits; but looking up into the +steeples, and seeing (and hearing) these young Christians thus +engaged, one might very naturally mistake them for the Enemy.</p> +<p>Festa-days, early in the autumn, are very numerous. All +the shops were shut up, twice within a week, for these holidays; +and one night, all the houses in the neighbourhood of a +particular church were illuminated, while the church itself was +lighted, outside, <a name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +250</span>with torches; and a grove of blazing links was erected, +in an open space outside one of the city gates. This part +of the ceremony is prettier and more singular a little way in the +country, where you can trace the illuminated cottages all the way +up a steep hill-side; and where you pass festoons of tapers, +wasting away in the starlight night, before some lonely little +house upon the road.</p> +<p>On these days, they always dress the church of the saint in +whose honour the festa is holden, very gaily. +Gold-embroidered festoons of different colours, hang from the +arches; the altar furniture is set forth; and sometimes, even the +lofty pillars are swathed from top to bottom in tight-fitting +draperies. The cathedral is dedicated to St. Lorenzo. +On St. Lorenzo’s day, we went into it, just as the sun was +setting. Although these decorations are usually in very +indifferent taste, the effect, just then, was very superb +indeed. For the whole building was dressed in red; and the +sinking sun, streaming in, through a great red curtain in the +chief doorway, made all the gorgeousness its own. When the +sun went down, and it gradually grew quite dark inside, except +for a few twinkling tapers on the principal altar, and some small +dangling silver lamps, it was very mysterious and +effective. But, sitting in any of the churches towards +evening, is like a mild dose of opium.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p250b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Italian Romance" +title= +"Italian Romance" +src="images/p250s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>With the money collected at a festa, they usually pay for the +dressing of the church, and for the hiring of the band, and for +the tapers. If there be any left (which seldom happens, I +believe), the souls in Purgatory get the benefit of it. +They are also supposed to have the benefit of the exertions of +certain small boys, who shake money-boxes before some mysterious +little buildings like rural turnpikes, which (usually shut up +close) fly open on Red-letter days, and disclose an image and +some flowers inside.</p> +<p>Just without the city gate, on the Albara road, is a small +house, with an altar in it, and a stationary money-box: also for +the benefit of the souls in Purgatory. Still further to +stimulate the charitable, there is a monstrous painting on the +plaster, on either side of the grated door, representing a select +party of souls, frying. One of them has a grey moustache, +and an elaborate head of grey hair: as if he had been taken out +of a hairdresser’s window and cast into the furnace. +There he is: a most grotesque and hideously comic old soul: for +ever blistering in the real sun, and melting in the mimic fire, +for the gratification and improvement (and the contributions) of +the poor Genoese.</p> +<p>They are not a very joyous people, and are seldom seen to +dance on their holidays: the staple places of entertainment among +the women, being the churches and the public walks. They +are very good-tempered, obliging, and industrious. Industry +has not made them clean, for their habitations are extremely +filthy, and their usual occupation on a fine Sunday morning, is +to sit at their doors, hunting in each other’s heads. +But their dwellings are so close and confined that if those parts +of the city had been beaten down by Massena in the time of the +terrible Blockade, it would have at least occasioned one public +benefit among many misfortunes.</p> +<p>The Peasant Women, with naked feet and legs, are so constantly +washing clothes, in the public tanks, and in every stream and +ditch, that one cannot help wondering, in the midst of all this +dirt, who wears them when they are clean. The custom is to +lay the wet linen which is being operated upon, on a smooth +stone, and hammer away at it, with a flat wooden mallet. +This they do, as furiously as if they were revenging themselves +on dress in general for being connected with the Fall of +Mankind.</p> +<p>It is not unusual to see, lying on the edge of the tank at +these times, or on another flat stone, an unfortunate baby, +tightly swathed up, arms and legs and all, in an enormous +quantity of wrapper, so that it is unable to move a toe or +finger. This custom (which we often see represented in old +pictures) is universal among the common people. A child is +left anywhere without the possibility of crawling away, or is +accidentally knocked off a shelf, or tumbled out of bed, or is +hung up to a hook now and then, and left dangling like a doll at +an English rag-shop, without the least inconvenience to +anybody.</p> +<p>I was sitting, one Sunday, soon after my arrival, in the +little country church of San Martino, a couple of miles from the +city, while a baptism took place. I saw the priest, and an +attendant with a large taper, and a man, and a woman, and some +others; but I had no more idea, until the ceremony was all over, +that it was a baptism, or that the curious little stiff +instrument, that was passed from one to another, in the course of +the ceremony, by the handle—like a short poker—was a +child, than I had that it was my own christening. I +borrowed the child afterwards, for a minute or two (it was lying +across the font then), and found it very red in the face but +perfectly quiet, and not to be bent on any terms. The +number of cripples in the streets, soon ceased to surprise +me.</p> +<p>There are plenty of Saints’ and Virgin’s Shrines, +of course; generally at the corners of streets. The +favourite memento to the Faithful, about Genoa, is a painting, +representing a peasant on his knees, with a spade and some other +agricultural implements beside him; and the Madonna, with the +Infant Saviour in her arms, appearing to him in a cloud. +This is the legend of the Madonna della Guardia: a chapel on a +mountain within a few miles, which is in high repute. It +seems that this peasant lived all alone by himself, tilling some +land atop of the mountain, where, being a devout man, he daily +said his prayers to the Virgin in the open air; for his hut was a +very poor one. Upon a certain day, the Virgin appeared to +him, as in the picture, and said, ‘Why do you pray in the +open air, and without a priest?’ The peasant +explained because there was neither priest nor church at +hand—a very uncommon complaint indeed in Italy. +‘I should wish, then,’ said the Celestial Visitor, +‘to have a chapel built here, in which the prayers of the +Faithful may be offered up.’ ‘But, Santissima +Madonna,’ said the peasant, ‘I am a poor man; and +chapels cannot be built without money. They must be +supported, too, Santissima; for to have a chapel and not support +it liberally, is a wickedness—a deadly sin.’ +This sentiment gave great satisfaction to the visitor. +‘Go!’ said she. ‘There is such a village +in the valley on the left, and such another village in the valley +on the right, and such another village elsewhere, that will +gladly contribute to the building of a chapel. Go to +them! Relate what you have seen; and do not doubt that +sufficient money will be forthcoming to erect my chapel, or that +it will, afterwards, be handsomely maintained.’ All +of which (miraculously) turned out to be quite true. And in +proof of this prediction and revelation, there is the chapel of +the Madonna della Guardia, rich and flourishing at this day.</p> +<p>The splendour and variety of the Genoese churches, can hardly +be exaggerated. The church of the Annunciata especially: +built, like many of the others, at the cost of one noble family, +and now in slow progress of repair: from the outer door to the +utmost height of the high cupola, is so elaborately painted and +set in gold, that it looks (as <span class="smcap">Simond</span> +describes it, in his charming book on Italy) like a great +enamelled snuff-box. Most of the richer churches contain +some beautiful pictures, or other embellishments of great price, +almost universally set, side by side, with sprawling effigies of +maudlin monks, and the veriest trash and tinsel ever seen.</p> +<p>It may be a consequence of the frequent direction of the +popular mind, and pocket, to the souls in Purgatory, but there is +very little tenderness for the <i>bodies</i> of the dead +here. For the very poor, there are, immediately outside one +angle of the walls, and behind a jutting point of the +fortification, near the sea, certain common pits—one for +every day in the year—which all remain closed up, until the +turn of each comes for its daily reception of dead bodies. +Among the troops in the town, there are usually some Swiss: more +or less. When any of these die, they are buried out of a +fund maintained by such of their countrymen as are resident in +Genoa. Their providing coffins for these men is matter of +great astonishment to the authorities.</p> +<p>Certainly, the effect of this promiscuous and indecent +splashing down of dead people in so many wells, is bad. It +surrounds Death with revolting associations, that insensibly +become connected with those whom Death is approaching. +Indifference and avoidance are the natural result; and all the +softening influences of the great sorrow are harshly +disturbed.</p> +<p>There is a ceremony when an old Cavaliére or the like, +expires, of erecting a pile of benches in the cathedral, to +represent his bier; covering them over with a pall of black +velvet; putting his hat and sword on the top; making a little +square of seats about the whole; and sending out formal +invitations to his friends and acquaintances to come and sit +there, and hear Mass: which is performed at the principal Altar, +decorated with an infinity of candles for that purpose.</p> +<p>When the better kind of people die, or are at the point of +death, their nearest relations generally walk off: retiring into +the country for a little change, and leaving the body to be +disposed of, without any superintendence from them. The +procession is usually formed, and the coffin borne, and the +funeral conducted, by a body of persons called a +Confratérnita, who, as a kind of voluntary penance, +undertake to perform these offices, in regular rotation, for the +dead; but who, mingling something of pride with their humility, +are dressed in a loose garment covering their whole person, and +wear a hood concealing the face; with breathing-holes and +apertures for the eyes. The effect of this costume is very +ghastly: especially in the case of a certain Blue +Confratérnita 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +good-humouredly, seem to be always lying in wait for an +opportunity to hiss, and spare the actresses as little as the +actors.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>The <span class="smcap">Teatro Diurno</span>, 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 the neighbours at +their windows looking on, and to hear the bells of the churches +and convents ringing at most complete cross-purposes 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>look</i> 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 absolutely insupportable to a +stranger, but which the initiated audience, mainly composed of +the common people, receive (so they do everything else) quite as +a matter of course, and as if he were a man. His spirits +are prodigious. He continually shakes his legs, and winks +his eye. And there is a heavy father with grey hair, who +sits down on the regular conventional stage-bank, and blesses his +daughter in the regular conventional way, who is +tremendous. No one would suppose it possible that anything +short of a real man could be so tedious. It is the triumph +of art.</p> +<p>In the ballet, an Enchanter runs away with the Bride, in the +very hour of her nuptials, He brings her to his cave, and tries +to soothe her. They sit down on a sofa (the regular sofa! +in the regular place, O. P. Second Entrance!) and a procession of +musicians enters; one creature playing a drum, and knocking +himself off his legs at every blow. These failing to +delight her, dancers appear. Four first; then two; +<i>the</i> two; the flesh-coloured two. The way in which +they dance; the height to which they spring; the impossible and +inhuman extent to which they pirouette; the revelation of their +preposterous legs; the coming down with a pause, on the very tips +of their toes, when the music requires it; the gentleman’s +retiring up, when it is the lady’s turn; and the +lady’s retiring up, when it is the gentleman’s turn; +the final passion of a pas-de-deux; and the going off with a +bound!—I shall never see a real ballet, with a composed +countenance again.</p> +<p>I went, another night, to see these Puppets act a play called +‘St. Helena, or the Death of Napoleon.’ It +began by the disclosure of Napoleon, with an immense head, seated +on a sofa in his chamber at St. Helena; to whom his valet entered +with this obscure announcement:</p> +<p>‘Sir Yew ud se on Low?’ (the <i>ow</i>, as in +cow).</p> +<p>Sir Hudson (that you could have seen his regimentals!) was a +perfect mammoth of a man, to Napoleon; hideously ugly, with a +monstrously disproportionate face, and a great clump for the +lower-jaw, to express his tyrannical and obdurate nature. +He began his system of persecution, by calling his prisoner +‘General Buonaparte;’ to which the latter replied, +with the deepest tragedy, ‘Sir Yew ud se on Low, call me +not thus. Repeat that phrase and leave me! I am +Napoleon, Emperor of France!’ Sir Yew ud se on, +nothing daunted, proceeded to entertain him with an ordinance of +the British Government, regulating the state he should preserve, +and the furniture of his rooms: and limiting his attendants to +four or five persons. ‘Four or five for +<i>me</i>!’ said Napoleon. ‘Me! One +hundred thousand men were lately at my sole command; and this +English officer talks of four or five for <i>me</i>!’ +Throughout the piece, Napoleon (who talked very like the real +Napoleon, and was, for ever, having small soliloquies by himself) +was very bitter on ‘these English officers,’ and +‘these English soldiers;’ to the great satisfaction +of the audience, who were perfectly delighted to have Low +bullied; and who, whenever Low said ‘General +Buonaparte’ (which he always did: always receiving the same +correction), quite execrated him. It would be hard to say +why; for Italians have little cause to sympathise with Napoleon, +Heaven knows.</p> +<p>There was no plot at all, except that a French officer, +disguised as an Englishman, came to propound a plan of escape; +and being discovered, but not before Napoleon had magnanimously +refused to steal his freedom, was immediately ordered off by Low +to be hanged. In two very long speeches, which Low made +memorable, by winding up with ‘Yas!’—to show +that he was English—which brought down thunders of +applause. Napoleon was so affected by this catastrophe, +that he fainted away on the spot, and was carried out by two +other puppets. Judging from what followed, it would appear +that he never recovered the shock; for the next act showed him, +in a clean shirt, in his bed (curtains crimson and white), where +a lady, prematurely dressed in mourning, brought two little +children, who kneeled down by the bedside, while he made a decent +end; the last word on his lips being ‘Vatterlo.’</p> +<p>It was unspeakably ludicrous. Buonaparte’s boots +were so wonderfully beyond control, and did such marvellous +things of their own accord: doubling themselves up, and getting +under tables, and dangling in the air, and sometimes skating away +with him, out of all human knowledge, when he was in full +speech—mischances which were not rendered the less absurd, +by a settled melancholy depicted in his face. To put an end +to one conference with Low, he had to go to a table, and read a +book: when it was the finest spectacle I ever beheld, to see his +body bending over the volume, like a boot-jack, and his +sentimental eyes glaring obstinately into the pit. He was +prodigiously good, in bed, with an immense collar to his shirt, +and his little hands outside the coverlet. So was Dr. +Antommarchi, represented by a puppet with long lank hair, like +Mawworm’s, who, in consequence of some derangement of his +wires, hovered about the couch like a vulture, and gave medical +opinions in the air. He was almost as good as Low, though +the latter was great at all times—a decided brute and +villain, beyond all possibility of mistake. Low was +especially fine at the last, when, hearing the doctor and the +valet say, ‘The Emperor is dead!’ he pulled out his +watch, and wound up the piece (not the watch) by exclaiming, with +characteristic brutality, ‘Ha! ha! Eleven minutes to +six! The General dead! and the spy hanged!’ +This brought the curtain down, triumphantly.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>There is not in Italy, they say (and I believe them), a +lovelier residence than the Palazzo Peschiere, or Palace of the +Fishponds, whither we removed as soon as our three months’ +tenancy of the Pink Jail at Albaro had ceased and determined.</p> +<p>It stands on a height within the walls of Genoa, but aloof +from the town: surrounded by beautiful gardens of its own, +adorned with statues, vases, fountains, marble basins, terraces, +walks of orange-trees and lemon-trees, groves of roses and +camellias. All its apartments are beautiful in their +proportions and decorations; but the great hall, some fifty feet +in height, with three large windows at the end, overlooking the +whole town of Genoa, the harbour, and the neighbouring sea, +affords one of the most fascinating and delightful prospects in +the world. Any house more cheerful and habitable than the +great rooms are, within, it would be difficult to conceive; and +certainly nothing more delicious than the scene without, in +sunshine or in moonlight, could be imagined. It is more +like an enchanted place in an Eastern story than a grave and +sober lodging.</p> +<p>How you may wander on, from room to room, and never tire of +the wild fancies on the walls and ceilings, as bright in their +fresh colouring as if they had been painted yesterday; or how one +floor, or even the great hall which opens on eight other rooms, +is a spacious promenade; or how there are corridors and +bed-chambers above, which we never use and rarely visit, and +scarcely know the way through; or how there is a view of a +perfectly different character on each of the four sides of the +building; matters little. But that prospect from the hall +is like a vision to me. I go back to it, in fancy, as I +have done in calm reality a hundred times a day; and stand there, +looking out, with the sweet scents from the garden rising up +about me, in a perfect dream of happiness.</p> +<p>There lies all Genoa, in beautiful confusion, with its many +churches, monasteries, and convents, pointing up into the sunny +sky; and down below me, just where the roofs begin, a solitary +convent parapet, fashioned like a gallery, with an iron across at +the end, where sometimes early in the morning, I have seen a +little group of dark-veiled nuns gliding sorrowfully to and fro, +and stopping now and then to peep down upon the waking world in +which they have no part. Old Monte Faccio, brightest of +hills in good weather, but sulkiest when storms are coming on, is +here, upon the left. The Fort within the walls (the good +King built it to command the town, and beat the houses of the +Genoese about their ears, in case they should be discontented) +commands that height upon the right. The broad sea lies +beyond, in front there; and that line of coast, beginning by the +light-house, and tapering away, a mere speck in the rosy +distance, is the beautiful coast road that leads to Nice. +The garden near at hand, among the roofs and houses: all red with +roses and fresh with little fountains: is the Acqua Sola—a +public promenade, where the military band plays gaily, and the +white veils cluster thick, and the Genoese nobility ride round, +and round, and round, in state-clothes and coaches at least, if +not in absolute wisdom. Within a stone’s-throw, as it +seems, the audience of the Day Theatre sit: their faces turned +this way. But as the stage is hidden, it is very odd, +without a knowledge of the cause, to see their faces changed so +suddenly from earnestness to laughter; and odder still, to hear +the rounds upon rounds of applause, rattling in the evening air, +to which the curtain falls. But, being Sunday night, they +act their best and most attractive play. And now, the sun +is going down, in such magnificent array of red, and green, and +golden light, as neither pen nor pencil could depict; and to the +ringing of the vesper bells, darkness sets in at once, without a +twilight. Then, lights begin to shine in Genoa, and on the +country road; and the revolving lanthorn out at sea there, +flashing, for an instant, on this palace front and portico, +illuminates it as if there were a bright moon bursting from +behind a cloud; then, merges it in deep obscurity. And +this, so far as I know, is the only reason why the Genoese avoid +it after dark, and think it haunted.</p> +<p>My memory will haunt it, many nights, in time to come; but +nothing worse, I will engage. The same Ghost will +occasionally sail away, as I did one pleasant autumn evening, +into the bright prospect, and sniff the morning air at +Marseilles.</p> +<p>The corpulent hairdresser was still sitting in his slippers +outside his shop-door there, but the twirling ladies in the +window, with the natural inconstancy of their sex, had ceased to +twirl, and were languishing, stock still, with their beautiful +faces addressed to blind corners of the establishment, where it +was impossible for admirers to penetrate.</p> +<p>The steamer had come from Genoa in a delicious run of eighteen +hours, and we were going to run back again by the Cornice road +from Nice: not being satisfied to have seen only the outsides of +the beautiful towns that rise in picturesque white clusters from +among the olive woods, and rocks, and hills, upon the margin of +the Sea.</p> +<p>The Boat which started for Nice that night, at eight +o’clock, was very small, and so crowded with goods that +there was scarcely room to move; neither was there anything to +cat on board, except bread; nor to drink, except coffee. +But being due at Nice at about eight or so in the morning, this +was of no consequence; so when we began to wink at the bright +stars, in involuntary acknowledgment of their winking at us, we +turned into our berths, in a crowded, but cool little cabin, and +slept soundly till morning.</p> +<p>The Boat, being as dull and dogged a little boat as ever was +built, it was within an hour of noon when we turned into Nice +Harbour, where we very little expected anything but +breakfast. But we were laden with wool. Wool must not +remain in the Custom-house at Marseilles more than twelve months +at a stretch, without paying duty. It is the custom to make +fictitious removals of unsold wool to evade this law; to take it +somewhere when the twelve months are nearly out; bring it +straight back again; and warehouse it, as a new cargo, for nearly +twelve months longer. This wool of ours, had come +originally from some place in the East. It was recognised +as Eastern produce, the moment we entered the harbour. +Accordingly, the gay little Sunday boats, full of holiday people, +which had come off to greet us, were warned away by the +authorities; we were declared in quarantine; and a great flag was +solemnly run up to the mast-head on the wharf, to make it known +to all the town.</p> +<p>It was a very hot day indeed. We were unshaved, +unwashed, undressed, unfed, and could hardly enjoy the absurdity +of lying blistering in a lazy harbour, with the town looking on +from a respectful distance, all manner of whiskered men in cocked +hats discussing our fate at a remote guard-house, with gestures +(we looked very hard at them through telescopes) expressive of a +week’s detention at least: and nothing whatever the matter +all the time. But even in this crisis the brave Courier +achieved a triumph. He telegraphed somebody (<i>I</i> saw +nobody) either naturally connected with the hotel, or put <i>en +rapport</i> with the establishment for that occasion only. +The telegraph was answered, and in half an hour or less, there +came a loud shout from the guard-house. The captain was +wanted. Everybody helped the captain into his boat. +Everybody got his luggage, and said we were going. The +captain rowed away, and disappeared behind a little jutting +corner of the Galley-slaves’ Prison: and presently came +back with something, very sulkily. The brave Courier met +him at the side, and received the something as its rightful +owner. It was a wicker basket, folded in a linen cloth; and +in it were two great bottles of wine, a roast fowl, some salt +fish chopped with garlic, a great loaf of bread, a dozen or so of +peaches, and a few other trifles. When we had selected our +own breakfast, the brave Courier invited a chosen party to +partake of these refreshments, and assured them that they need +not be deterred by motives of delicacy, as he would order a +second basket to be furnished at their expense. Which he +did—no one knew how—and by-and-by, the captain being +again summoned, again sulkily returned with another something; +over which my popular attendant presided as before: carving with +a clasp-knife, his own personal property, something smaller than +a Roman sword.</p> +<p>The whole party on board were made merry by these unexpected +supplies; but none more so than a loquacious little Frenchman, +who got drunk in five minutes, and a sturdy Cappuccíno +Friar, who had taken everybody’s fancy mightily, and was +one of the best friars in the world, I verily believe.</p> +<p>He had a free, open countenance; and a rich brown, flowing +beard; and was a remarkably handsome man, of about fifty. +He had come up to us, early in the morning, and inquired whether +we were sure to be at Nice by eleven; saying that he particularly +wanted to know, because if we reached it by that time he would +have to perform Mass, and must deal with the consecrated wafer, +fasting; whereas, if there were no chance of his being in time, +he would immediately breakfast. He made this communication, +under the idea that the brave Courier was the captain; and indeed +he looked much more like it than anybody else on board. +Being assured that we should arrive in good time, he fasted, and +talked, fasting, to everybody, with the most charming good +humour; answering jokes at the expense of friars, with other +jokes at the expense of laymen, and saying that, friar as he was, +he would engage to take up the two strongest men on board, one +after the other, with his teeth, and carry them along the +deck. Nobody gave him the opportunity, but I dare say he +could have done it; for he was a gallant, noble figure of a man, +even in the Cappuccíno dress, which is the ugliest and +most ungainly that can well be.</p> +<p>All this had given great delight to the loquacious Frenchman, +who gradually patronised the Friar very much, and seemed to +commiserate him as one who might have been born a Frenchman +himself, but for an unfortunate destiny. Although his +patronage was such as a mouse might bestow upon a lion, he had a +vast opinion of its condescension; and in the warmth of that +sentiment, occasionally rose on tiptoe, to slap the Friar on the +back.</p> +<p>When the baskets arrived: it being then too late for Mass: the +Friar went to work bravely: eating prodigiously of the cold meat +and bread, drinking deep draughts of the wine, smoking cigars, +taking snuff, sustaining an uninterrupted conversation with all +hands, and occasionally running to the boat’s side and +hailing somebody on shore with the intelligence that we +<i>must</i> be got out of this quarantine somehow or other, as he +had to take part in a great religious procession in the +afternoon. After this, he would come back, laughing lustily +from pure good humour: while the Frenchman wrinkled his small +face into ten thousand creases, and said how droll it was, and +what a brave boy was that Friar! At length the heat of the +sun without, and the wine within, made the Frenchman +sleepy. So, in the noontide of his patronage of his +gigantic protégé, he lay down among the wool, and +began to snore.</p> +<p>It was four o’clock before we were released; and the +Frenchman, dirty and woolly, and snuffy, was still sleeping when +the Friar went ashore. As soon as we were free, we all +hurried away, to wash and dress, that we might make a decent +appearance at the procession; and I saw no more of the Frenchman +until we took up our station in the main street to see it pass, +when he squeezed himself into a front place, elaborately +renovated; threw back his little coat, to show a broad-barred +velvet waistcoat, sprinkled all over with stars; then adjusted +himself and his cane so as utterly to bewilder and transfix the +Friar, when he should appear.</p> +<p>The procession was a very long one, and included an immense +number of people divided into small parties; each party chanting +nasally, on its own account, without reference to any other, and +producing a most dismal result. There were angels, crosses, +Virgins carried on flat boards surrounded by Cupids, crowns, +saints, missals, infantry, tapers, monks, nuns, relics, +dignitaries of the church in green hats, walking under crimson +parasols: and, here and there, a species of sacred street-lamp +hoisted on a pole. We looked out anxiously for the +Cappuccíni, and presently their brown robes and corded +girdles were seen coming on, in a body.</p> +<p>I observed the little Frenchman chuckle over the idea that +when the Friar saw him in the broad-barred waistcoat, he would +mentally exclaim, ‘Is that my Patron! <i>That</i> +distinguished man!’ and would be covered with +confusion. Ah! never was the Frenchman so deceived. +As our friend the Cappuccíno advanced, with folded arms, +he looked straight into the visage of the little Frenchman, with +a bland, serene, composed abstraction, not to be described. +There was not the faintest trace of recognition or amusement on +his features; not the smallest consciousness of bread and meat, +wine, snuff, or cigars. ‘C’est +lui-même,’ I heard the little Frenchman say, in some +doubt. Oh yes, it was himself. It was not his brother +or his nephew, very like him. It was he. He walked in +great state: being one of the Superiors of the Order: and looked +his part to admiration. There never was anything so perfect +of its kind as the contemplative way in which he allowed his +placid gaze to rest on us, his late companions, as if he had +never seen us in his life and didn’t see us then. The +Frenchman, quite humbled, took off his hat at last, but the Friar +still passed on, with the same imperturbable serenity; and the +broad-barred waistcoat, fading into the crowd, was seen no +more.</p> +<p>The procession wound up with a discharge of musketry that +shook all the windows in the town. Next afternoon we +started for Genoa, by the famed Cornice road.</p> +<p>The half-French, half-Italian Vetturíno, who undertook, +with his little rattling carriage and pair, to convey us thither +in three days, was a careless, good-looking fellow, whose +light-heartedness and singing propensities knew no bounds as long +as we went on smoothly. So long, he had a word and a smile, +and a flick of his whip, for all the peasant girls, and odds and +ends of the Sonnambula for all the echoes. So long, he went +jingling through every little village, with bells on his horses +and rings in his ears: a very meteor of gallantry and +cheerfulness. But, it was highly characteristic to see him +under a slight reverse of circumstances, when, in one part of the +journey, we came to a narrow place where a waggon had broken down +and stopped up the road. His hands were twined in his hair +immediately, as if a combination of all the direst accidents in +life had suddenly fallen on his devoted head. He swore in +French, prayed in Italian, and went up and down, beating his feet +on the ground in a very ecstasy of despair. There were +various carters and mule-drivers assembled round the broken +waggon, and at last some man of an original turn of mind, +proposed that a general and joint effort should be made to get +things to-rights again, and clear the way—an idea which I +verily believe would never have presented itself to our friend, +though we had remained there until now. It was done at no +great cost of labour; but at every pause in the doing, his hands +were wound in his hair again, as if there were no ray of hope to +lighten his misery. The moment he was on his box once more, +and clattering briskly down hill, he returned to the Sonnambula +and the peasant girls, as if it were not in the power of +misfortune to depress him.</p> +<p>Much of the romance of the beautiful towns and villages on +this beautiful road, disappears when they are entered, for many +of them are very miserable. The streets are narrow, dark, +and dirty; the inhabitants lean and squalid; and the withered old +women, with their wiry grey hair twisted up into a knot on the +top of the head, like a pad to carry loads on, are so intensely +ugly, both along the Riviera, and in Genoa, too, that, seen +straggling about in dim doorways with their spindles, or crooning +together in by-corners, they are like a population of +Witches—except that they certainly are not to be suspected +of brooms or any other instrument of cleanliness. Neither +are the pig-skins, in common use to hold wine, and hung out in +the sun in all directions, by any means ornamental, as they +always preserve the form of very bloated pigs, with their heads +and legs cut off, dangling upside-down by their own tails.</p> +<p>These towns, as they are seen in the approach, however: +nestling, with their clustering roofs and towers, among trees on +steep hill-sides, or built upon the brink of noble bays: are +charming. The vegetation is, everywhere, luxuriant and +beautiful, and the Palm-tree makes a novel feature in the novel +scenery. In one town, San Remo—a most extraordinary +place, built on gloomy open arches, so that one might ramble +underneath the whole town—there are pretty terrace gardens; +in other towns, there is the clang of shipwrights’ hammers, +and the building of small vessels on the beach. In some of +the broad bays, the fleets of Europe might ride at anchor. +In every case, each little group of houses presents, in the +distance, some enchanting confusion of picturesque and fanciful +shapes.</p> +<p>The road itself—now high above the glittering sea, which +breaks against the foot of the precipice: now turning inland to +sweep the shore of a bay: now crossing the stony bed of a +mountain stream: now low down on the beach: now winding among +riven rocks of many forms and colours: now chequered by a +solitary ruined tower, one of a chain of towers built, in old +time, to protect the coast from the invasions of the Barbary +Corsairs—presents new beauties every moment. When its +own striking scenery is passed, and it trails on through a long +line of suburb, lying on the flat sea-shore, to Genoa, then, the +changing glimpses of that noble city and its harbour, awaken a +new source of interest; freshened by every huge, unwieldy, +half-inhabited old house in its outskirts: and coming to its +climax when the city gate is reached, and all Genoa with its +beautiful harbour, and neighbouring hills, bursts proudly on the +view.</p> +<h2><a name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 264</span>TO +PARMA, MODENA, AND BOLOGNA</h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">strolled</span> away from Genoa on the +6th of November, bound for a good many places (England among +them), but first for Piacenza; for which town I started in the +<i>coupé</i> of a machine something like a travelling +caravan, in company with the brave Courier, and a lady with a +large dog, who howled dolefully, at intervals, all night. +It was very wet, and very cold; very dark, and very dismal; we +travelled at the rate of barely four miles an hour, and stopped +nowhere for refreshment. At ten o’clock next morning, +we changed coaches at Alessandria, where we were packed up in +another coach (the body whereof would have been small for a fly), +in company with a very old priest; a young Jesuit, his +companion—who carried their breviaries and other books, and +who, in the exertion of getting into the coach, had made a gash +of pink leg between his black stocking and his black knee-shorts, +that reminded one of Hamlet in Ophelia’s closet, only it +was visible on both legs—a provincial Avvocáto; and +a gentleman with a red nose that had an uncommon and singular +sheen upon it, which I never observed in the human subject +before. In this way we travelled on, until four +o’clock in the afternoon; the roads being still very heavy, +and the coach very slow. To mend the matter, the old priest +was troubled with cramps in his legs, so that he had to give a +terrible yell every ten minutes or so, and be hoisted out by the +united efforts of the company; the coach always stopping for him, +with great gravity. This disorder, and the roads, formed +the main subject of conversation. Finding, in the +afternoon, that the <i>coupé</i> had discharged two +people, and had only one passenger inside—a monstrous ugly +Tuscan, with a great purple moustache, of which no man could see +the ends when he had his hat on—I took advantage of its +better accommodation, and in company with this gentleman (who was +very conversational and good-humoured) travelled on, until nearly +eleven o’clock at night, when the driver reported that he +couldn’t think of going any farther, and we accordingly +made a halt at a place called Stradella.</p> +<p>The inn was a series of strange galleries surrounding a yard +where our coach, and a waggon or two, and a lot of fowls, and +firewood, were all heaped up together, higgledy-piggledy; so that +you didn’t know, and couldn’t have taken your oath, +which was a fowl and which was a cart. We followed a sleepy +man with a flaring torch, into a great, cold room, where there +were two immensely broad beds, on what looked like two immensely +broad deal dining-tables; another deal table of similar +dimensions in the middle of the bare floor; four windows; and two +chairs. Somebody said it was my room; and I walked up and +down it, for half an hour or so, staring at the Tuscan, the old +priest, the young priest, and the Avvocáto (Red-Nose lived +in the town, and had gone home), who sat upon their beds, and +stared at me in return.</p> +<p>The rather dreary whimsicality of this stage of the +proceedings, is interrupted by an announcement from the Brave (he +had been cooking) that supper is ready; and to the priest’s +chamber (the next room and the counterpart of mine) we all +adjourn. The first dish is a cabbage, boiled with a great +quantity of rice in a tureen full of water, and flavoured with +cheese. It is so hot, and we are so cold, that it appears +almost jolly. The second dish is some little bits of pork, +fried with pigs’ kidneys. The third, two red +fowls. The fourth, two little red turkeys. The fifth, +a huge stew of garlic and truffles, and I don’t know what +else; and this concludes the entertainment.</p> +<p>Before I can sit down in my own chamber, and think it of the +dampest, the door opens, and the Brave comes moving in, in the +middle of such a quantity of fuel that he looks like Birnam Wood +taking a winter walk. He kindles this heap in a twinkling, +and produces a jorum of hot brandy and water; for that bottle of +his keeps company with the seasons, and now holds nothing but the +purest <i>eau de vie</i>. When he has accomplished this +feat, he retires for the night; and I hear him, for an hour +afterwards, and indeed until I fall asleep, making jokes in some +outhouse (apparently under the pillow), where he is smoking +cigars with a party of confidential friends. He never was +in the house in his life before; but he knows everybody +everywhere, before he has been anywhere five minutes; and is +certain to have attracted to himself, in the meantime, the +enthusiastic devotion of the whole establishment.</p> +<p>This is at twelve o’clock at night. At four +o’clock next morning, he is up again, fresher than a +full-blown rose; making blazing fires without the least authority +from the landlord; producing mugs of scalding coffee when nobody +else can get anything but cold water; and going out into the dark +streets, and roaring for fresh milk, on the chance of somebody +with a cow getting up to supply it. While the horses are +‘coming,’ I stumble out into the town too. It +seems to be all one little Piazza, with a cold damp wind blowing +in and out of the arches, alternately, in a sort of +pattern. But it is profoundly dark, and raining heavily; +and I shouldn’t know it to-morrow, if I were taken there to +try. Which Heaven forbid.</p> +<p>The horses arrive in about an hour. In the interval, the +driver swears; sometimes Christian oaths, sometimes Pagan +oaths. Sometimes, when it is a long, compound oath, he +begins with Christianity and merges into Paganism. Various +messengers are despatched; not so much after the horses, as after +each other; for the first messenger never comes back, and all the +rest imitate him. At length the horses appear, surrounded +by all the messengers; some kicking them, and some dragging them, +and all shouting abuse to them. Then, the old priest, the +young priest, the Avvocáto, the Tuscan, and all of us, +take our places; and sleepy voices proceeding from the doors of +extraordinary hutches in divers parts of the yard, cry out +‘Addio corrière mio! Buon’ +viággio, corrière!’ Salutations which +the courier, with his face one monstrous grin, returns in like +manner as we go jolting and wallowing away, through the mud.</p> +<p>At Piacenza, which was four or five hours’ journey from +the inn at Stradella, we broke up our little company before the +hotel door, with divers manifestations of friendly feeling on all +sides. The old priest was taken with the cramp again, +before he had got half-way down the street; and the young priest +laid the bundle of books on a door-step, while he dutifully +rubbed the old gentleman’s legs. The client of the +Avvocáto was waiting for him at the yard-gate, and kissed +him on each cheek, with such a resounding smack, that I am afraid +he had either a very bad case, or a scantily-furnished +purse. The Tuscan, with a cigar in his mouth, went +loitering off, carrying his hat in his hand that he might the +better trail up the ends of his dishevelled moustache. And +the brave Courier, as he and I strolled away to look about us, +began immediately to entertain me with the private histories and +family affairs of the whole party.</p> +<p>A brown, decayed, old town, Piacenza is. A deserted, +solitary, grass-grown place, with ruined ramparts; half filled-up +trenches, which afford a frowsy pasturage to the lean kine that +wander about them; and streets of stern houses, moodily frowning +at the other houses over the way. The sleepiest and +shabbiest of soldiery go wandering about, with the double curse +of laziness and poverty, uncouthly wrinkling their misfitting +regimentals; the dirtiest of children play with their impromptu +toys (pigs and mud) in the feeblest of gutters; and the gauntest +of dogs trot in and out of the dullest of archways, in perpetual +search of something to eat, which they never seem to find. +A mysterious and solemn Palace, guarded by two colossal statues, +twin Genii of the place, stands gravely in the midst of the idle +town; and the king with the marble legs, who flourished in the +time of the thousand and one Nights, might live contentedly +inside of it, and never have the energy, in his upper half of +flesh and blood, to want to come out.</p> +<p>What a strange, half-sorrowful and half-delicious doze it is, +to ramble through these places gone to sleep and basking in the +sun! Each, in its turn, appears to be, of all the mouldy, +dreary, God-forgotten towns in the wide world, the chief. +Sitting on this hillock where a bastion used to be, and where a +noisy fortress was, in the time of the old Roman station here, I +became aware that I have never known till now, what it is to be +lazy. A dormouse must surely be in very much the same +condition before he retires under the wool in his cage; or a +tortoise before he buries himself.</p> +<p>I feel that I am getting rusty. That any attempt to +think, would be accompanied with a creaking noise. That +there is nothing, anywhere, to be done, or needing to be +done. That there is no more human progress, motion, effort, +or advancement, of any kind beyond this. That the whole +scheme stopped here centuries ago, and laid down to rest until +the Day of Judgment.</p> +<p>Never while the brave Courier lives! Behold him jingling +out of Piacenza, and staggering this way, in the tallest +posting-chaise ever seen, so that he looks out of the front +window as if he were peeping over a garden wall; while the +postilion, concentrated essence of all the shabbiness of Italy, +pauses for a moment in his animated conversation, to touch his +hat to a blunt-nosed little Virgin, hardly less shabby than +himself, enshrined in a plaster Punch’s show outside the +town.</p> +<p>In Genoa, and thereabouts, they train the vines on +trellis-work, supported on square clumsy pillars, which, in +themselves, are anything but picturesque. But, here, they +twine them around trees, and let them trail among the hedges; and +the vineyards are full of trees, regularly planted for this +purpose, each with its own vine twining and clustering about +it. Their leaves are now of the brightest gold and deepest +red; and never was anything so enchantingly graceful and full of +beauty. Through miles of these delightful forms and +colours, the road winds its way. The wild festoons, the +elegant wreaths, and crowns, and garlands of all shapes; the +fairy nets flung over great trees, and making them prisoners in +sport; the tumbled heaps and mounds of exquisite shapes upon the +ground; how rich and beautiful they are! And every now and +then, a long, long line of trees, will be all bound and garlanded +together: as if they had taken hold of one another, and were +coming dancing down the field!</p> +<p>Parma has cheerful, stirring streets, for an Italian town; and +consequently is not so characteristic as many places of less +note. Always excepting the retired Piazza, where the +Cathedral, Baptistery, and Campanile—ancient buildings, of +a sombre brown, embellished with innumerable grotesque monsters +and dreamy-looking creatures carved in marble and red +stone—are clustered in a noble and magnificent +repose. Their silent presence was only invaded, when I saw +them, by the twittering of the many birds that were flying in and +out of the crevices in the stones and little nooks in the +architecture, where they had made their nests. They were +busy, rising from the cold shade of Temples made with hands, into +the sunny air of Heaven. Not so the worshippers within, who +were listening to the same drowsy chaunt, or kneeling before the +same kinds of images and tapers, or whispering, with their heads +bowed down, in the selfsame dark confessionals, as I had left in +Genoa and everywhere else.</p> +<p>The decayed and mutilated paintings with which this church is +covered, have, to my thinking, a remarkably mournful and +depressing influence. It is miserable to see great works of +art—something of the Souls of Painters—perishing and +fading away, like human forms. This cathedral is odorous +with the rotting of Correggio’s frescoes in the +Cupola. Heaven knows how beautiful they may have been at +one time. Connoisseurs fall into raptures with them now; +but such a labyrinth of arms and legs: such heaps of +foreshortened limbs, entangled and involved and jumbled together: +no operative surgeon, gone mad, could imagine in his wildest +delirium.</p> +<p>There is a very interesting subterranean church here: the roof +supported by marble pillars, behind each of which there seemed to +be at least one beggar in ambush: to say nothing of the tombs and +secluded altars. From every one of these lurking-places, +such crowds of phantom-looking men and women, leading other men +and women with twisted limbs, or chattering jaws, or paralytic +gestures, or idiotic heads, or some other sad infirmity, came +hobbling out to beg, that if the ruined frescoes in the cathedral +above, had been suddenly animated, and had retired to this lower +church, they could hardly have made a greater confusion, or +exhibited a more confounding display of arms and legs.</p> +<p>There is Petrarch’s Monument, too; and there is the +Baptistery, with its beautiful arches and immense font; and there +is a gallery containing some very remarkable pictures, whereof a +few were being copied by hairy-faced artists, with little velvet +caps more off their heads than on. There is the Farnese +Palace, too; and in it one of the dreariest spectacles of decay +that ever was seen—a grand, old, gloomy theatre, mouldering +away.</p> +<p>It is a large wooden structure, of the horse-shoe shape; the +lower seats arranged upon the Roman plan, but above them, great +heavy chambers; rather than boxes, where the Nobles sat, remote +in their proud state. Such desolation as has fallen on this +theatre, enhanced in the spectator’s fancy by its gay +intention and design, none but worms can be familiar with. +A hundred and ten years have passed, since any play was acted +here. The sky shines in through the gashes in the roof; the +boxes are dropping down, wasting away, and only tenanted by rats; +damp and mildew smear the faded colours, and make spectral maps +upon the panels; lean rags are dangling down where there were gay +festoons on the Proscenium; the stage has rotted so, that a +narrow wooden gallery is thrown across it, or it would sink +beneath the tread, and bury the visitor in the gloomy depth +beneath. The desolation and decay impress themselves on all +the senses. The air has a mouldering smell, and an earthy +taste; any stray outer sounds that straggle in with some lost +sunbeam, are muffled and heavy; and the worm, the maggot, and the +rot have changed the surface of the wood beneath the touch, as +time will seam and roughen a smooth hand. If ever Ghosts +act plays, they act them on this ghostly stage.</p> +<p>It was most delicious weather, when we came into Modena, where +the darkness of the sombre colonnades over the footways skirting +the main street on either side, was made refreshing and agreeable +by the bright sky, so wonderfully blue. I passed from all +the glory of the day, into a dim cathedral, where High Mass was +performing, feeble tapers were burning, people were kneeling in +all directions before all manner of shrines, and officiating +priests were crooning the usual chant, in the usual, low, dull, +drawling, melancholy tone.</p> +<p>Thinking how strange it was, to find, in every stagnant town, +this same Heart beating with the same monotonous pulsation, the +centre of the same torpid, listless system, I came out by another +door, and was suddenly scared to death by a blast from the +shrillest trumpet that ever was blown. Immediately, came +tearing round the corner, an equestrian company from Paris: +marshalling themselves under the walls of the church, and +flouting, with their horses’ heels, the griffins, lions, +tigers, and other monsters in stone and marble, decorating its +exterior. First, there came a stately nobleman with a great +deal of hair, and no hat, bearing an enormous banner, on which +was inscribed, <span class="smcap">Mazeppa</span>! <span +class="smcap">to-night</span>! Then, a Mexican chief, with +a great pear-shaped club on his shoulder, like Hercules. +Then, six or eight Roman chariots: each with a beautiful lady in +extremely short petticoats, and unnaturally pink tights, erect +within: shedding beaming looks upon the crowd, in which there was +a latent expression of discomposure and anxiety, for which I +couldn’t account, until, as the open back of each chariot +presented itself, I saw the immense difficulty with which the +pink legs maintained their perpendicular, over the uneven +pavement of the town: which gave me quite a new idea of the +ancient Romans and Britons. The procession was brought to a +close, by some dozen indomitable warriors of different nations, +riding two and two, and haughtily surveying the tame population +of Modena: among whom, however, they occasionally condescended to +scatter largesse in the form of a few handbills. After +caracolling among the lions and tigers, and proclaiming that +evening’s entertainments with blast of trumpet, it then +filed off, by the other end of the square, and left a new and +greatly increased dulness behind.</p> +<p>When the procession had so entirely passed away, that the +shrill trumpet was mild in the distance, and the tail of the last +horse was hopelessly round the corner, the people who had come +out of the church to stare at it, went back again. But one +old lady, kneeling on the pavement within, near the door, had +seen it all, and had been immensely interested, without getting +up; and this old lady’s eye, at that juncture, I happened +to catch: to our mutual confusion. She cut our +embarrassment very short, however, by crossing herself devoutly, +and going down, at full length, on her face, before a figure in a +fancy petticoat and a gilt crown; which was so like one of the +procession-figures, that perhaps at this hour she may think the +whole appearance a celestial vision. Anyhow, I must +certainly have forgiven her her interest in the Circus, though I +had been her Father Confessor.</p> +<p>There was a little fiery-eyed old man with a crooked shoulder, +in the cathedral, who took it very ill that I made no effort to +see the bucket (kept in an old tower) which the people of Modena +took away from the people of Bologna in the fourteenth century, +and about which there was war made and a mock-heroic poem by +<span class="smcap">Tassone</span>, too. Being quite +content, however, to look at the outside of the tower, and feast, +in imagination, on the bucket within; and preferring to loiter in +the shade of the tall Campanile, and about the cathedral; I have +no personal knowledge of this bucket, even at the present +time.</p> +<p>Indeed, we were at Bologna, before the little old man (or the +Guide-Book) would have considered that we had half done justice +to the wonders of Modena. But it is such a delight to me to +leave new scenes behind, and still go on, encountering newer +scenes—and, moreover, I have such a perverse disposition in +respect of sights that are cut, and dried, and +dictated—that I fear I sin against similar authorities in +every place I visit.</p> +<p>Be this as it may, in the pleasant Cemetery at Bologna, I +found myself walking next Sunday morning, among the stately +marble tombs and colonnades, in company with a crowd of Peasants, +and escorted by a little Cicerone of that town, who was +excessively anxious for the honour of the place, and most +solicitous to divert my attention from the bad monuments: whereas +he was never tired of extolling the good ones. Seeing this +little man (a good-humoured little man he was, who seemed to have +nothing in his face but shining teeth and eyes) looking wistfully +at a certain plot of grass, I asked him who was buried +there. ‘The poor people, Signore,’ he said, +with a shrug and a smile, and stopping to look back at +me—for he always went on a little before, and took off his +hat to introduce every new monument. ‘Only the poor, +Signore! It’s very cheerful. It’s very +lively. How green it is, how cool! It’s like a +meadow! There are five,’—holding up all the +fingers of his right hand to express the number, which an Italian +peasant will always do, if it be within the compass of his ten +fingers,—‘there are five of my little children buried +there, Signore; just there; a little to the right. +Well! Thanks to God! It’s very cheerful. +How green it is, how cool it is! It’s quite a +meadow!’</p> +<p>He looked me very hard in the face, and seeing I was sorry for +him, took a pinch of snuff (every Cicerone takes snuff), and made +a little bow; partly in deprecation of his having alluded to such +a subject, and partly in memory of the children and of his +favourite saint. It was as unaffected and as perfectly +natural a little bow, as ever man made. Immediately +afterwards, he took his hat off altogether, and begged to +introduce me to the next monument; and his eyes and his teeth +shone brighter than before.</p> +<h2><a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +272</span>THROUGH BOLOGNA AND FERRARA</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was such a very smart +official in attendance at the Cemetery where the little Cicerone +had buried his children, that when the little Cicerone suggested +to me, in a whisper, that there would be no offence in presenting +this officer, in return for some slight extra service, with a +couple of pauls (about tenpence, English money), I looked +incredulously at his cocked hat, wash-leather gloves, well-made +uniform, and dazzling buttons, and rebuked the little Cicerone +with a grave shake of the head. For, in splendour of +appearance, he was at least equal to the Deputy Usher of the +Black Rod; and the idea of his carrying, as Jeremy Diddler would +say, ‘such a thing as tenpence’ away with him, seemed +monstrous. He took it in excellent part, however, when I +made bold to give it him, and pulled off his cocked hat with a +flourish that would have been a bargain at double the money.</p> +<p>It seemed to be his duty to describe the monuments to the +people—at all events he was doing so; and when I compared +him, like Gulliver in Brobdingnag, ‘with the Institutions +of my own beloved country, I could not refrain from tears of +pride and exultation.’ He had no pace at all; no more +than a tortoise. He loitered as the people loitered, that +they might gratify their curiosity; and positively allowed them, +now and then, to read the inscriptions on the tombs. He was +neither shabby, nor insolent, nor churlish, nor ignorant. +He spoke his own language with perfect propriety, and seemed to +consider himself, in his way, a kind of teacher of the people, +and to entertain a just respect both for himself and them. +They would no more have such a man for a Verger in Westminster +Abbey, than they would let the people in (as they do at Bologna) +to see the monuments for nothing. <a name="citation272"></a><a +href="#footnote272" class="citation">[272]</a></p> +<p>Again, an ancient sombre town, under the brilliant sky; with +heavy arcades over the footways of the older streets, and lighter +and more cheerful archways in the newer portions of the +town. Again, brown piles of sacred buildings, with more +birds flying in and out of chinks in the stones; and more +snarling monsters for the bases of the pillars. Again, rich +churches, drowsy Masses, curling incense, tinkling bells, priests +in bright vestments: pictures, tapers, laced altar cloths, +crosses, images, and artificial flowers.</p> +<p>There is a grave and learned air about the city, and a +pleasant gloom upon it, that would leave it, a distinct and +separate impression in the mind, among a crowd of cities, though +it were not still further marked in the traveller’s +remembrance by the two brick leaning towers (sufficiently +unsightly in themselves, it must be acknowledged), inclining +cross-wise as if they were bowing stiffly to each other—a +most extraordinary termination to the perspective of some of the +narrow streets. The colleges, and churches too, and +palaces: and above all the academy of Fine Arts, where there are +a host of interesting pictures, especially by <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>, <span +class="smcap">Domenichino</span>, and <span +class="smcap">Ludovico Caracci</span>: give it a place of its own +in the memory. Even though these were not, and there were +nothing else to remember it by, the great Meridian on the +pavement of the church of San Petronio, where the sunbeams mark +the time among the kneeling people, would give it a fanciful and +pleasant interest.</p> +<p>Bologna being very full of tourists, detained there by an +inundation which rendered the road to Florence impassable, I was +quartered up at the top of an hotel, in an out-of-the-way room +which I never could find: containing a bed, big enough for a +boarding-school, which I couldn’t fall asleep in. The +chief among the waiters who visited this lonely retreat, where +there was no other company but the swallows in the broad eaves +over the window, was a man of one idea in connection with the +English; and the subject of this harmless monomania, was Lord +Byron. I made the discovery by accidentally remarking to +him, at breakfast, that the matting with which the floor was +covered, was very comfortable at that season, when he immediately +replied that Milor Beeron had been much attached to that kind of +matting. Observing, at the same moment, that I took no +milk, he exclaimed with enthusiasm, that Milor Beeron had never +touched it. At first, I took it for granted, in my +innocence, that he had been one of the Beeron servants; but no, +he said, no, he was in the habit of speaking about my Lord, to +English gentlemen; that was all. He knew all about him, he +said. In proof of it, he connected him with every possible +topic, from the Monte Pulciano wine at dinner (which was grown on +an estate he had owned), to the big bed itself, which was the +very model of his. When I left the inn, he coupled with his +final bow in the yard, a parting assurance that the road by which +I was going, had been Milor Beeron’s favourite ride; and +before the horse’s feet had well begun to clatter on the +pavement, he ran briskly up-stairs again, I dare say to tell some +other Englishman in some other solitary room that the guest who +had just departed was Lord Beeron’s living image.</p> +<p>I had entered Bologna by night—almost midnight—and +all along the road thither, after our entrance into the Papal +territory: which is not, in any part, supremely well governed, +Saint Peter’s keys being rather rusty now; the driver had +so worried about the danger of robbers in travelling after dark, +and had so infected the brave Courier, and the two had been so +constantly stopping and getting up and down to look after a +portmanteau which was tied on behind, that I should have felt +almost obliged to any one who would have had the goodness to take +it away. Hence it was stipulated, that, whenever we left +Bologna, we should start so as not to arrive at Ferrara later +than eight at night; and a delightful afternoon and evening +journey it was, albeit through a flat district which gradually +became more marshy from the overflow of brooks and rivers in the +recent heavy rains.</p> +<p>At sunset, when I was walking on alone, while the horses +rested, I arrived upon a little scene, which, by one of those +singular mental operations of which we are all conscious, seemed +perfectly familiar to me, and which I see distinctly now. +There was not much in it. In the blood red light, there was +a mournful sheet of water, just stirred by the evening wind; upon +its margin a few trees. In the foreground was a group of +silent peasant girls leaning over the parapet of a little bridge, +and looking, now up at the sky, now down into the water; in the +distance, a deep bell; the shade of approaching night on +everything. If I had been murdered there, in some former +life, I could not have seemed to remember the place more +thoroughly, or with a more emphatic chilling of the blood; and +the mere remembrance of it acquired in that minute, is so +strengthened by the imaginary recollection, that I hardly think I +could forget it.</p> +<p>More solitary, more depopulated, more deserted, old Ferrara, +than any city of the solemn brotherhood! The grass so grows +up in the silent streets, that any one might make hay there, +literally, while the sun shines. But the sun shines with +diminished cheerfulness in grim Ferrara; and the people are so +few who pass and re-pass through the places, that the flesh of +its inhabitants might be grass indeed, and growing in the +squares.</p> +<p>I wonder why the head coppersmith in an Italian town, always +lives next door to the Hotel, or opposite: making the visitor +feel as if the beating hammers were his own heart, palpitating +with a deadly energy! I wonder why jealous corridors +surround the bedroom on all sides, and fill it with unnecessary +doors that can’t be shut, and will not open, and abut on +pitchy darkness! I wonder why it is not enough that these +distrustful genii stand agape at one’s dreams all night, +but there must also be round open portholes, high in the wall, +suggestive, when a mouse or rat is heard behind the wainscot, of +a somebody scraping the wall with his toes, in his endeavours to +reach one of these portholes and look in! I wonder why the +faggots are so constructed, as to know of no effect but an agony +of heat when they are lighted and replenished, and an agony of +cold and suffocation at all other times! I wonder, above +all, why it is the great feature of domestic architecture in +Italian inns, that all the fire goes up the chimney, except the +smoke!</p> +<p>The answer matters little. Coppersmiths, doors, +portholes, smoke, and faggots, are welcome to me. Give me +the smiling face of the attendant, man or woman; the courteous +manner; the amiable desire to please and to be pleased; the +light-hearted, pleasant, simple air—so many jewels set in +dirt—and I am theirs again to-morrow!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ariosto’s</span> house, <span +class="smcap">Tasso’s</span> prison, a rare old Gothic +cathedral, and more churches of course, are the sights of +Ferrara. But the long silent streets, and the dismantled +palaces, where ivy waves in lieu of banners, and where rank weeds +are slowly creeping up the long-untrodden stairs, are the best +sights of all.</p> +<p>The aspect of this dreary town, half an hour before sunrise +one fine morning, when I left it, was as picturesque as it seemed +unreal and spectral. It was no matter that the people were +not yet out of bed; for if they had all been up and busy, they +would have made but little difference in that desert of a +place. It was best to see it, without a single figure in +the picture; a city of the dead, without one solitary +survivor. Pestilence might have ravaged streets, squares, +and market-places; and sack and siege have ruined the old houses, +battered down their doors and windows, and made breaches in their +roofs. In one part, a great tower rose into the air; the +only landmark in the melancholy view. In another, a +prodigious castle, with a moat about it, stood aloof: a sullen +city in itself. In the black dungeons of this castle, +Parisina and her lover were beheaded in the dead of night. +The red light, beginning to shine when I looked back upon it, +stained its walls without, as they have, many a time, been +stained within, in old days; but for any sign of life they gave, +the castle and the city might have been avoided by all human +creatures, from the moment when the axe went down upon the last +of the two lovers: and might have never vibrated to another +sound</p> +<blockquote><p>Beyond the blow that to the block<br /> +Pierced through with forced and sullen shock.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Coming to the Po, which was greatly swollen, and running +fiercely, we crossed it by a floating bridge of boats, and so +came into the Austrian territory, and resumed our journey: +through a country of which, for some miles, a great part was +under water. The brave Courier and the soldiery had first +quarrelled, for half an hour or more, over our eternal +passport. But this was a daily relaxation with the Brave, +who was always stricken deaf when shabby functionaries in uniform +came, as they constantly did come, plunging out of wooden boxes +to look at it—or in other words to beg—and who, stone +deaf to my entreaties that the man might have a trifle given him, +and we resume our journey in peace, was wont to sit reviling the +functionary in broken English: while the unfortunate man’s +face was a portrait of mental agony framed in the coach window, +from his perfect ignorance of what was being said to his +disparagement.</p> +<p>There was a postilion, in the course of this day’s +journey, as wild and savagely good-looking a vagabond as you +would desire to see. He was a tall, stout-made, +dark-complexioned fellow, with a profusion of shaggy black hair +hanging all over his face, and great black whiskers stretching +down his throat. His dress was a torn suit of rifle green, +garnished here and there with red; a steeple-crowned hat, +innocent of nap, with a broken and bedraggled feather stuck in +the band; and a flaming red neckerchief hanging on his +shoulders. He was not in the saddle, but reposed, quite at +his ease, on a sort of low foot-board in front of the postchaise, +down amongst the horses’ tails—convenient for having +his brains kicked out, at any moment. To this Brigand, the +brave Courier, when we were at a reasonable trot, happened to +suggest the practicability of going faster. He received the +proposal with a perfect yell of derision; brandished his whip +about his head (such a whip! it was more like a home-made bow); +flung up his heels, much higher than the horses; and disappeared, +in a paroxysm, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the +axle-tree. I fully expected to see him lying in the road, a +hundred yards behind, but up came the steeple-crowned hat again, +next minute, and he was seen reposing, as on a sofa, entertaining +himself with the idea, and crying, ‘Ha, ha! what +next! Oh the devil! Faster too! +Shoo—hoo—o—o!’ (This last +ejaculation, an inexpressibly defiant hoot.) Being anxious +to reach our immediate destination that night, I ventured, +by-and-by, to repeat the experiment on my own account. It +produced exactly the same effect. Round flew the whip with +the same scornful flourish, up came the heels, down went the +steeple-crowned hat, and presently he reappeared, reposing as +before and saying to himself, ‘Ha ha! what next! +Faster too! Oh the devil! +Shoo—hoo—o—o!’</p> +<h2><a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 277</span>AN +ITALIAN DREAM</h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> been travelling, for some +days; resting very little in the night, and never in the +day. The rapid and unbroken succession of novelties that +had passed before me, came back like half-formed dreams; and a +crowd of objects wandered in the greatest confusion through my +mind, as I travelled on, by a solitary road. At intervals, +some one among them would stop, as it were, in its restless +flitting to and fro, and enable me to look at it, quite steadily, +and behold it in full distinctness. After a few moments, it +would dissolve, like a view in a magic-lantern; and while I saw +some part of it quite plainly, and some faintly, and some not at +all, would show me another of the many places I had lately seen, +lingering behind it, and coming through it. This was no +sooner visible than, in its turn, it melted into something +else.</p> +<p>At one moment, I was standing again, before the brown old +rugged churches of Modena. As I recognised the curious +pillars with grim monsters for their bases, I seemed to see them, +standing by themselves in the quiet square at Padua, where there +were the staid old University, and the figures, demurely gowned, +grouped here and there in the open space about it. Then, I +was strolling in the outskirts of that pleasant city, admiring +the unusual neatness of the dwelling-houses, gardens, and +orchards, as I had seen them a few hours before. In their +stead arose, immediately, the two towers of Bologna; and the most +obstinate of all these objects, failed to hold its ground, a +minute, before the monstrous moated castle of Ferrara, which, +like an illustration to a wild romance, came back again in the +red sunrise, lording it over the solitary, grass-grown, withered +town. In short, I had that incoherent but delightful jumble +in my brain, which travellers are apt to have, and are indolently +willing to encourage. Every shake of the coach in which I +sat, half dozing in the dark, appeared to jerk some new +recollection out of its place, and to jerk some other new +recollection into it; and in this state I fell asleep.</p> +<p>I was awakened after some time (as I thought) by the stopping +of the coach. It was now quite night, and we were at the +waterside. There lay here, a black boat, with a little +house or cabin in it of the same mournful colour. When I +had taken my seat in this, the boat was paddled, by two men, +towards a great light, lying in the distance on the sea.</p> +<p>Ever and again, there was a dismal sigh of wind. It +ruffled the water, and rocked the boat, and sent the dark clouds +flying before the stars. I could not but think how strange +it was, to be floating away at that hour: leaving the land +behind, and going on, towards this light upon the sea. It +soon began to burn brighter; and from being one light became a +cluster of tapers, twinkling and shining out of the water, as the +boat approached towards them by a dreamy kind of track, marked +out upon the sea by posts and piles.</p> +<p>We had floated on, five miles or so, over the dark water, when +I heard it rippling in my dream, against some obstruction near at +hand. Looking out attentively, I saw, through the gloom, a +something black and massive—like a shore, but lying close +and flat upon the water, like a raft—which we were gliding +past. The chief of the two rowers said it was a +burial-place.</p> +<p>Full of the interest and wonder which a cemetery lying out +there, in the lonely sea, inspired, I turned to gaze upon it as +it should recede in our path, when it was quickly shut out from +my view. Before I knew by what, or how, I found that we +were gliding up a street—a phantom street; the houses +rising on both sides, from the water, and the black boat gliding +on beneath their windows. Lights were shining from some of +these casements, plumbing the depth of the black stream with +their reflected rays, but all was profoundly silent.</p> +<p>So we advanced into this ghostly city, continuing to hold our +course through narrow streets and lanes, all filled and flowing +with water. Some of the corners where our way branched off, +were so acute and narrow, that it seemed impossible for the long +slender boat to turn them; but the rowers, with a low melodious +cry of warning, sent it skimming on without a pause. +Sometimes, the rowers of another black boat like our own, echoed +the cry, and slackening their speed (as I thought we did ours) +would come flitting past us like a dark shadow. Other +boats, of the same sombre hue, were lying moored, I thought, to +painted pillars, near to dark mysterious doors that opened +straight upon the water. Some of these were empty; in some, +the rowers lay asleep; towards one, I saw some figures coming +down a gloomy archway from the interior of a palace: gaily +dressed, and attended by torch-bearers. It was but a +glimpse I had of them; for a bridge, so low and close upon the +boat that it seemed ready to fall down and crush us: one of the +many bridges that perplexed the Dream: blotted them out, +instantly. On we went, floating towards the heart of this +strange place—with water all about us where never water was +elsewhere—clusters of houses, churches, heaps of stately +buildings growing out of it—and, everywhere, the same +extraordinary silence. Presently, we shot across a broad +and open stream; and passing, as I thought, before a spacious +paved quay, where the bright lamps with which it was illuminated +showed long rows of arches and pillars, of ponderous construction +and great strength, but as light to the eye as garlands of +hoarfrost or gossamer—and where, for the first time, I saw +people walking—arrived at a flight of steps leading from +the water to a large mansion, where, having passed through +corridors and galleries innumerable, I lay down to rest; +listening to the black boats stealing up and down below the +window on the rippling water, till I fell asleep.</p> +<p>The glory of the day that broke upon me in this Dream; its +freshness, motion, buoyancy; its sparkles of the sun in water; +its clear blue sky and rustling air; no waking words can +tell. But, from my window, I looked down on boats and +barks; on masts, sails, cordage, flags; on groups of busy +sailors, working at the cargoes of these vessels; on wide quays, +strewn with bales, casks, merchandise of many kinds; on great +ships, lying near at hand in stately indolence; on islands, +crowned with gorgeous domes and turrets: and where golden crosses +glittered in the light, atop of wondrous churches, springing from +the sea! Going down upon the margin of the green sea, +rolling on before the door, and filling all the streets, I came +upon a place of such surpassing beauty, and such grandeur, that +all the rest was poor and faded, in comparison with its absorbing +loveliness.</p> +<p>It was a great Piazza, as I thought; anchored, like all the +rest, in the deep ocean. On its broad bosom, was a Palace, +more majestic and magnificent in its old age, than all the +buildings of the earth, in the high prime and fulness of their +youth. Cloisters and galleries: so light, they might have +been the work of fairy hands: so strong that centuries had +battered them in vain: wound round and round this palace, and +enfolded it with a Cathedral, gorgeous in the wild luxuriant +fancies of the East. At no great distance from its porch, a +lofty tower, standing by itself, and rearing its proud head, +alone, into the sky, looked out upon the Adriatic Sea. Near +to the margin of the stream, were two ill-omened pillars of red +granite; one having on its top, a figure with a sword and shield; +the other, a winged lion. Not far from these again, a +second tower: richest of the rich in all its decorations: even +here, where all was rich: sustained aloft, a great orb, gleaming +with gold and deepest blue: the Twelve Signs painted on it, and a +mimic sun revolving in its course around them: while above, two +bronze giants hammered out the hours upon a sounding bell. +An oblong square of lofty houses of the whitest stone, surrounded +by a light and beautiful arcade, formed part of this enchanted +scene; and, here and there, gay masts for flags rose, tapering, +from the pavement of the unsubstantial ground.</p> +<p>I thought I entered the Cathedral, and went in and out among +its many arches: traversing its whole extent. A grand and +dreamy structure, of immense proportions; golden with old +mosaics; redolent of perfumes; dim with the smoke of incense; +costly in treasure of precious stones and metals, glittering +through iron bars; holy with the bodies of deceased saints; +rainbow-hued with windows of stained glass; dark with carved +woods and coloured marbles; obscure in its vast heights, and +lengthened distances; shining with silver lamps and winking +lights; unreal, fantastic, solemn, inconceivable +throughout. I thought I entered the old palace; pacing +silent galleries and council-chambers, where the old rulers of +this mistress of the waters looked sternly out, in pictures, from +the walls, and where her high-prowed galleys, still victorious on +canvas, fought and conquered as of old. I thought I +wandered through its halls of state and triumph—bare and +empty now!—and musing on its pride and might, extinct: for +that was past; all past: heard a voice say, ‘Some tokens of +its ancient rule and some consoling reasons for its downfall, may +be traced here, yet!’</p> +<p>I dreamed that I was led on, then, into some jealous rooms, +communicating with a prison near the palace; separated from it by +a lofty bridge crossing a narrow street; and called, I dreamed, +The Bridge of Sighs.</p> +<p>But first I passed two jagged slits in a stone wall; the +lions’ mouths—now toothless—where, in the +distempered horror of my sleep, I thought denunciations of +innocent men to the old wicked Council, had been dropped through, +many a time, when the night was dark. So, when I saw the +council-room to which such prisoners were taken for examination, +and the door by which they passed out, when they were +condemned—a door that never closed upon a man with life and +hope before him—my heart appeared to die within me.</p> +<p>It was smitten harder though, when, torch in hand, I descended +from the cheerful day into two ranges, one below another, of +dismal, awful, horrible stone cells. They were quite +dark. Each had a loop-hole in its massive wall, where, in +the old time, every day, a torch was placed—I +dreamed—to light the prisoner within, for half an +hour. The captives, by the glimmering of these brief rays, +had scratched and cut inscriptions in the blackened vaults. +I saw them. For their labour with a rusty nail’s +point, had outlived their agony and them, through many +generations.</p> +<p>One cell, I saw, in which no man remained for more than +four-and-twenty hours; being marked for dead before he entered +it. Hard by, another, and a dismal one, whereto, at +midnight, the confessor came—a monk brown-robed, and +hooded—ghastly in the day, and free bright air, but in the +midnight of that murky prison, Hope’s extinguisher, and +Murder’s herald. I had my foot upon the spot, where, +at the same dread hour, the shriven prisoner was strangled; and +struck my hand upon the guilty door—low-browed and +stealthy—through which the lumpish sack was carried out +into a boat, and rowed away, and drowned where it was death to +cast a net.</p> +<p>Around this dungeon stronghold, and above some part of it: +licking the rough walls without, and smearing them with damp and +slime within: stuffing dank weeds and refuse into chinks and +crevices, as if the very stones and bars had mouths to stop: +furnishing a smooth road for the removal of the bodies of the +secret victims of the State—a road so ready that it went +along with them, and ran before them, like a cruel +officer—flowed the same water that filled this Dream of +mine, and made it seem one, even at the time.</p> +<p>Descending from the palace by a staircase, called, I thought, +the Giant’s—I had some imaginary recollection of an +old man abdicating, coming, more slowly and more feebly, down it, +when he heard the bell, proclaiming his successor—I glided +off, in one of the dark boats, until we came to an old arsenal +guarded by four marble lions. To make my Dream more +monstrous and unlikely, one of these had words and sentences upon +its body, inscribed there, at an unknown time, and in an unknown +language; so that their purport was a mystery to all men.</p> +<p>There was little sound of hammers in this place for building +ships, and little work in progress; for the greatness of the city +was no more, as I have said. Indeed, it seemed a very wreck +found drifting on the sea; a strange flag hoisted in its +honourable stations, and strangers standing at its helm. A +splendid barge in which its ancient chief had gone forth, +pompously, at certain periods, to wed the ocean, lay here, I +thought, no more; but, in its place, there was a tiny model, made +from recollection like the city’s greatness; and it told of +what had been (so are the strong and weak confounded in the dust) +almost as eloquently as the massive pillars, arches, roofs, +reared to overshadow stately ships that had no other shadow now, +upon the water or the earth.</p> +<p>An armoury was there yet. Plundered and despoiled; but +an armoury. With a fierce standard taken from the Turks, +drooping in the dull air of its cage. Rich suits of mail +worn by great warriors were hoarded there; crossbows and bolts; +quivers full of arrows; spears; swords, daggers, maces, shields, +and heavy-headed axes. Plates of wrought steel and iron, to +make the gallant horse a monster cased in metal scales; and one +spring-weapon (easy to be carried in the breast) designed to do +its office noiselessly, and made for shooting men with poisoned +darts.</p> +<p>One press or case I saw, full of accursed instruments of +torture horribly contrived to cramp, and pinch, and grind and +crush men’s bones, and tear and twist them with the torment +of a thousand deaths. Before it, were two iron helmets, +with breast-pieces: made to close up tight and smooth upon the +heads of living sufferers; and fastened on to each, was a small +knob or anvil, where the directing devil could repose his elbow +at his ease, and listen, near the walled-up ear, to the +lamentations and confessions of the wretch within. There +was that grim resemblance in them to the human shape—they +were such moulds of sweating faces, pained and cramped—that +it was difficult to think them empty; and terrible distortions +lingering within them, seemed to follow me, when, taking to my +boat again, I rowed off to a kind of garden or public walk in the +sea, where there were grass and trees. But I forgot them +when I stood upon its farthest brink—I stood there, in my +dream—and looked, along the ripple, to the setting sun; +before me, in the sky and on the deep, a crimson flush; and +behind me the whole city resolving into streaks of red and +purple, on the water.</p> +<p>In the luxurious wonder of so rare a dream, I took but little +heed of time, and had but little understanding of its +flight. But there were days and nights in it; and when the +sun was high, and when the rays of lamps were crooked in the +running water, I was still afloat, I thought: plashing the +slippery walls and houses with the cleavings of the tide, as my +black boat, borne upon it, skimmed along the streets.</p> +<p>Sometimes, alighting at the doors of churches and vast +palaces, I wandered on, from room to room, from aisle to aisle, +through labyrinths of rich altars, ancient monuments; decayed +apartments where the furniture, half awful, half grotesque, was +mouldering away. Pictures were there, replete with such +enduring beauty and expression: with such passion, truth and +power: that they seemed so many young and fresh realities among a +host of spectres. I thought these, often intermingled with +the old days of the city: with its beauties, tyrants, captains, +patriots, merchants, counters, priests: nay, with its very +stones, and bricks, and public places; all of which lived again, +about me, on the walls. Then, coming down some marble +staircase where the water lapped and oozed against the lower +steps, I passed into my boat again, and went on in my dream.</p> +<p>Floating down narrow lanes, where carpenters, at work with +plane and chisel in their shops, tossed the light shaving +straight upon the water, where it lay like weed, or ebbed away +before me in a tangled heap. Past open doors, decayed and +rotten from long steeping in the wet, through which some scanty +patch of vine shone green and bright, making unusual shadows on +the pavement with its trembling leaves. Past quays and +terraces, where women, gracefully veiled, were passing and +repassing, and where idlers were reclining in the sunshine, on +flag-stones and on flights of steps. Past bridges, where +there were idlers too; loitering and looking over. Below +stone balconies, erected at a giddy height, before the loftiest +windows of the loftiest houses. Past plots of garden, +theatres, shrines, prodigious piles of +architecture—Gothic—Saracenic—fanciful with all +the fancies of all times and countries. Past buildings that +were high, and low, and black, and white, and straight, and +crooked; mean and grand, crazy and strong. Twining among a +tangled lot of boats and barges, and shooting out at last into a +Grand Canal! There, in the errant fancy of my dream, I saw +old Shylock passing to and fro upon a bridge, all built upon with +shops and humming with the tongues of men; a form I seemed to +know for Desdemona’s, leaned down through a latticed blind +to pluck a flower. And, in the dream, I thought that +Shakespeare’s spirit was abroad upon the water somewhere: +stealing through the city.</p> +<p>At night, when two votive lamps burnt before an image of the +Virgin, in a gallery outside the great cathedral, near the roof, +I fancied that the great piazza of the Winged Lion was a blaze of +cheerful light, and that its whole arcade was thronged with +people; while crowds were diverting themselves in splendid +coffee-houses opening from it—which were never shut, I +thought, but open all night long. When the bronze giants +struck the hour of midnight on the bell, I thought the life and +animation of the city were all centred here; and as I rowed away, +abreast the silent quays, I only saw them dotted, here and there, +with sleeping boatmen wrapped up in their cloaks, and lying at +full length upon the stones.</p> +<p>But close about the quays and churches, palaces and prisons +sucking at their walls, and welling up into the secret places of +the town: crept the water always. Noiseless and watchful: +coiled round and round it, in its many folds, like an old +serpent: waiting for the time, I thought, when people should look +down into its depths for any stone of the old city that had +claimed to be its mistress.</p> +<p>Thus it floated me away, until I awoke in the old market-place +at Verona. I have, many and many a time, thought since, of +this strange Dream upon the water: half-wondering if it lie there +yet, and if its name be <span class="smcap">Venice</span>.</p> +<h2><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 284</span>BY +VERONA, MANTUA, AND MILAN, ACROSS THE PASS OF THE SIMPLON INTO +SWITZERLAND</h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> been half afraid to go to +Verona, lest it should at all put me out of conceit with Romeo +and Juliet. But, I was no sooner come into the old +market-place, than the misgiving vanished. It is so +fanciful, quaint, and picturesque a place, formed by such an +extraordinary and rich variety of fantastic buildings, that there +could be nothing better at the core of even this romantic town: +scene of one of the most romantic and beautiful of stories.</p> +<p>It was natural enough, to go straight from the Market-place, +to the House of the Capulets, now degenerated into a most +miserable little inn. Noisy vetturíni and muddy +market-carts were disputing possession of the yard, which was +ankle-deep in dirt, with a brood of splashed and bespattered +geese; and there was a grim-visaged dog, viciously panting in a +doorway, who would certainly have had Romeo by the leg, the +moment he put it over the wall, if he had existed and been at +large in those times. The orchard fell into other hands, +and was parted off many years ago; but there used to be one +attached to the house—or at all events there may have, +been,—and the hat (Cappêllo) the ancient cognizance +of the family, may still be seen, carved in stone, over the +gateway of the yard. The geese, the market-carts, their +drivers, and the dog, were somewhat in the way of the story, it +must be confessed; and it would have been pleasanter to have +found the house empty, and to have been able to walk through the +disused rooms. But the hat was unspeakably comfortable; and +the place where the garden used to be, hardly less so. +Besides, the house is a distrustful, jealous-looking house as one +would desire to see, though of a very moderate size. So I +was quite satisfied with it, as the veritable mansion of old +Capulet, and was correspondingly grateful in my acknowledgments +to an extremely unsentimental middle-aged lady, the Padrona of +the Hotel, who was lounging on the threshold looking at the +geese; and who at least resembled the Capulets in the one +particular of being very great indeed in the ‘Family’ +way.</p> +<p>From Juliet’s home, to Juliet’s tomb, is a +transition as natural to the visitor, as to fair Juliet herself, +or to the proudest Juliet that ever has taught the torches to +burn bright in any time. So, I went off, with a guide, to +an old, old garden, once belonging to an old, old convent, I +suppose; and being admitted, at a shattered gate, by a +bright-eyed woman who was washing clothes, went down some walks +where fresh plants and young flowers were prettily growing among +fragments of old wall, and ivy-coloured mounds; and was shown a +little tank, or water-trough, which the bright-eyed +woman—drying her arms upon her ‘kerchief, called +‘La tomba di Giulietta la sfortunáta.’ +With the best disposition in the world to believe, I could do no +more than believe that the bright-eyed woman believed; so I gave +her that much credit, and her customary fee in ready money. +It was a pleasure, rather than a disappointment, that +Juliet’s resting-place was forgotten. However +consolatory it may have been to Yorick’s Ghost, to hear the +feet upon the pavement overhead, and, twenty times a day, the +repetition of his name, it is better for Juliet to lie out of the +track of tourists, and to have no visitors but such as come to +graves in spring-rain, and sweet air, and sunshine.</p> +<p>Pleasant Verona! With its beautiful old palaces, and +charming country in the distance, seen from terrace walks, and +stately, balustraded galleries. With its Roman gates, still +spanning the fair street, and casting, on the sunlight of to-day, +the shade of fifteen hundred years ago. With its +marble-fitted churches, lofty towers, rich architecture, and +quaint old quiet thoroughfares, where shouts of Montagues and +Capulets once resounded,</p> +<blockquote><p>And made Verona’s ancient citizens<br /> +Cast by their grave, beseeming ornaments,<br /> +To wield old partizans.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>With its fast-rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great +castle, waving cypresses, and prospect so delightful, and so +cheerful! Pleasant Verona!</p> +<p>In the midst of it, in the Piazza di Brá—a spirit +of old time among the familiar realities of the passing +hour—is the great Roman Amphitheatre. So well +preserved, and carefully maintained, that every row of seats is +there, unbroken. Over certain of the arches, the old Roman +numerals may yet be seen; and there are corridors, and +staircases, and subterranean passages for beasts, and winding +ways, above ground and below, as when the fierce thousands +hurried in and out, intent upon the bloody shows of the +arena. Nestling in some of the shadows and hollow places of +the walls, now, are smiths with their forges, and a few small +dealers of one kind or other; and there are green weeds, and +leaves, and grass, upon the parapet. But little else is +greatly changed.</p> +<p>When I had traversed all about it, with great interest, and +had gone up to the topmost round of seats, and turning from the +lovely panorama closed in by the distant Alps, looked down into +the building, it seemed to lie before me like the inside of a +prodigious hat of plaited straw, with an enormously broad brim +and a shallow crown; the plaits being represented by the +four-and-forty rows of seats. The comparison is a homely +and fantastic one, in sober remembrance and on paper, but it was +irresistibly suggested at the moment, nevertheless.</p> +<p>An equestrian troop had been there, a short time +before—the same troop, I dare say, that appeared to the old +lady in the church at Modena—and had scooped out a little +ring at one end of the area; where their performances had taken +place, and where the marks of their horses’ feet were still +fresh. I could not but picture to myself, a handful of +spectators gathered together on one or two of the old stone +seats, and a spangled Cavalier being gallant, or a Policinello +funny, with the grim walls looking on. Above all, I thought +how strangely those Roman mutes would gaze upon the favourite +comic scene of the travelling English, where a British nobleman +(Lord John), with a very loose stomach: dressed in a blue-tailed +coat down to his heels, bright yellow breeches, and a white hat: +comes abroad, riding double on a rearing horse, with an English +lady (Lady Betsy) in a straw bonnet and green veil, and a red +spencer; and who always carries a gigantic reticule, and a put-up +parasol.</p> +<p>I walked through and through the town all the rest of the day, +and could have walked there until now, I think. In one +place, there was a very pretty modern theatre, where they had +just performed the opera (always popular in Verona) of Romeo and +Juliet. In another there was a collection, under a +colonnade, of Greek, Roman, and Etruscan remains, presided over +by an ancient man who might have been an Etruscan relic himself; +for he was not strong enough to open the iron gate, when he had +unlocked it, and had neither voice enough to be audible when he +described the curiosities, nor sight enough to see them: he was +so very old. In another place, there was a gallery of +pictures: so abominably bad, that it was quite delightful to see +them mouldering away. But anywhere: in the churches, among +the palaces, in the streets, on the bridge, or down beside the +river: it was always pleasant Verona, and in my remembrance +always will be.</p> +<p>I read Romeo and Juliet in my own room at the inn that +night—of course, no Englishman had ever read it there, +before—and set out for Mantua next day at sunrise, +repeating to myself (in the <i>coupé</i> of an omnibus, +and next to the conductor, who was reading the Mysteries of +Paris),</p> +<blockquote><p>There is no world without Verona’s walls<br +/> +But purgatory, torture, hell itself.<br /> +Hence-banished is banished from the world,<br /> +And world’s exile is death—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which reminded me that Romeo was only banished five-and-twenty +miles after all, and rather disturbed my confidence in his energy +and boldness.</p> +<p>Was the way to Mantua as beautiful, in his time, I +wonder! Did it wind through pasture land as green, bright +with the same glancing streams, and dotted with fresh clumps of +graceful trees! Those purple mountains lay on the horizon, +then, for certain; and the dresses of these peasant girls, who +wear a great, knobbed, silver pin like an English +‘life-preserver’ through their hair behind, can +hardly be much changed. The hopeful feeling of so bright a +morning, and so exquisite a sunrise, can have been no stranger, +even to an exiled lover’s breast; and Mantua itself must +have broken on him in the prospect, with its towers, and walls, +and water, pretty much as on a commonplace and matrimonial +omnibus. He made the same sharp twists and turns, perhaps, +over two rumbling drawbridges; passed through the like long, +covered, wooden bridge; and leaving the marshy water behind, +approached the rusty gate of stagnant Mantua.</p> +<p>If ever a man were suited to his place of residence, and his +place of residence to him, the lean Apothecary and Mantua came +together in a perfect fitness of things. It may have been +more stirring then, perhaps. If so, the Apothecary was a +man in advance of his time, and knew what Mantua would be, in +eighteen hundred and forty-four. He fasted much, and that +assisted him in his foreknowledge.</p> +<p>I put up at the Hotel of the Golden Lion, and was in my own +room arranging plans with the brave Courier, when there came a +modest little tap at the door, which opened on an outer gallery +surrounding a court-yard; and an intensely shabby little man +looked in, to inquire if the gentleman would have a Cicerone to +show the town. His face was so very wistful and anxious, in +the half-opened doorway, and there was so much poverty expressed +in his faded suit and little pinched hat, and in the thread-bare +worsted glove with which he held it—not expressed the less, +because these were evidently his genteel clothes, hastily slipped +on—that I would as soon have trodden on him as dismissed +him. I engaged him on the instant, and he stepped in +directly.</p> +<p>While I finished the discussion in which I was engaged, he +stood, beaming by himself in a corner, making a feint of brushing +my hat with his arm. If his fee had been as many napoleons +as it was francs, there could not have shot over the twilight of +his shabbiness such a gleam of sun, as lighted up the whole man, +now that he was hired.</p> +<p>‘Well!’ said I, when I was ready, ‘shall we +go out now?’</p> +<p>‘If the gentleman pleases. It is a beautiful +day. A little fresh, but charming; altogether +charming. The gentleman will allow me to open the +door. This is the Inn Yard. The court-yard of the +Golden Lion! The gentleman will please to mind his footing +on the stairs.’</p> +<p>We were now in the street.</p> +<p>‘This is the street of the Golden Lion. This, the +outside of the Golden Lion. The interesting window up +there, on the first Piano, where the pane of glass is broken, is +the window of the gentleman’s chamber!’</p> +<p>Having viewed all these remarkable objects, I inquired if +there were much to see in Mantua.</p> +<p>‘Well! Truly, no. Not much! So, +so,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders apologetically.</p> +<p>‘Many churches?’</p> +<p>‘No. Nearly all suppressed by the +French.’</p> +<p>‘Monasteries or convents?’</p> +<p>‘No. The French again! Nearly all suppressed +by Napoleon.’</p> +<p>‘Much business?’</p> +<p>‘Very little business.’</p> +<p>‘Many strangers?’</p> +<p>‘Ah Heaven!’</p> +<p>I thought he would have fainted.</p> +<p>‘Then, when we have seen the two large churches yonder, +what shall we do next?’ said I.</p> +<p>He looked up the street, and down the street, and rubbed his +chin timidly; and then said, glancing in my face as if a light +had broken on his mind, yet with a humble appeal to my +forbearance that was perfectly irresistible:</p> +<p>‘We can take a little turn about the town, +Signore!’ (Si può far ’un píccolo +gíro della citta).</p> +<p>It was impossible to be anything but delighted with the +proposal, so we set off together in great good-humour. In +the relief of his mind, he opened his heart, and gave up as much +of Mantua as a Cicerone could.</p> +<p>‘One must eat,’ he said; ‘but, bah! it was a +dull place, without doubt!’</p> +<p>He made as much as possible of the Basilica of Santa +Andrea—a noble church—and of an inclosed portion of +the pavement, about which tapers were burning, and a few people +kneeling, and under which is said to be preserved the Sangreal of +the old Romances. This church disposed of, and another +after it (the cathedral of San Pietro), we went to the Museum, +which was shut up. ‘It was all the same,’ he +said. ‘Bah! There was not much +inside!’ Then, we went to see the Piazza del Diavolo, +built by the Devil (for no particular purpose) in a single night; +then, the Piazza Virgiliana; then, the statue of +Virgil—<i>our</i> Poet, my little friend said, plucking up +a spirit, for the moment, and putting his hat a little on one +side. Then, we went to a dismal sort of farm-yard, by which +a picture-gallery was approached. The moment the gate of +this retreat was opened, some five hundred geese came waddling +round us, stretching out their necks, and clamouring in the most +hideous manner, as if they were ejaculating, ‘Oh! +here’s somebody come to see the Pictures! Don’t +go up! Don’t go up!’ While we went up, +they waited very quietly about the door in a crowd, cackling to +one another occasionally, in a subdued tone; but the instant we +appeared again, their necks came out like telescopes, and setting +up a great noise, which meant, I have no doubt, ‘What, you +would go, would you! What do you think of it! How do +you like it!’ they attended us to the outer gate, and cast +us forth, derisively, into Mantua.</p> +<p>The geese who saved the Capitol, were, as compared to these, +Pork to the learned Pig. What a gallery it was! I +would take their opinion on a question of art, in preference to +the discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds.</p> +<p>Now that we were standing in the street, after being thus +ignominiouly escorted thither, my little friend was plainly +reduced to the ‘píccolo gíro,’ or +little circuit of the town, he had formerly proposed. But +my suggestion that we should visit the Palazzo Tè (of +which I had heard a great deal, as a strange wild place) imparted +new life to him, and away we went.</p> +<p>The secret of the length of Midas’s ears, would have +been more extensively known, if that servant of his, who +whispered it to the reeds, had lived in Mantua, where there are +reeds and rushes enough to have published it to all the +world. The Palazzo Tè stands in a swamp, among this +sort of vegetation; and is, indeed, as singular a place as I ever +saw.</p> +<p>Not for its dreariness, though it is very dreary. Not +for its dampness, though it is very damp. Nor for its +desolate condition, though it is as desolate and neglected as +house can be. But chiefly for the unaccountable nightmares +with which its interior has been decorated (among other subjects +of more delicate execution), by Giulio Romano. There is a +leering Giant over a certain chimney-piece, and there are dozens +of Giants (Titans warring with Jove) on the walls of another +room, so inconceivably ugly and grotesque, that it is marvellous +how any man can have imagined such creatures. In the +chamber in which they abound, these monsters, with swollen faces +and cracked cheeks, and every kind of distortion of look and +limb, are depicted as staggering under the weight of falling +buildings, and being overwhelmed in the ruins; upheaving masses +of rock, and burying themselves beneath; vainly striving to +sustain the pillars of heavy roofs that topple down upon their +heads; and, in a word, undergoing and doing every kind of mad and +demoniacal destruction. The figures are immensely large, +and exaggerated to the utmost pitch of uncouthness; the colouring +is harsh and disagreeable; and the whole effect more like (I +should imagine) a violent rush of blood to the head of the +spectator, than any real picture set before him by the hand of an +artist. This apoplectic performance was shown by a +sickly-looking woman, whose appearance was referable, I dare say, +to the bad air of the marshes; but it was difficult to help +feeling as if she were too much haunted by the Giants, and they +were frightening her to death, all alone in that exhausted +cistern of a Palace, among the reeds and rushes, with the mists +hovering about outside, and stalking round and round it +continually.</p> +<p>Our walk through Mantua showed us, in almost every street, +some suppressed church: now used for a warehouse, now for nothing +at all: all as crazy and dismantled as they could be, short of +tumbling down bodily. The marshy town was so intensely dull +and flat, that the dirt upon it seemed not to have come there in +the ordinary course, but to have settled and mantled on its +surface as on standing water. And yet there were some +business-dealings going on, and some profits realising; for there +were arcades full of Jews, where those extraordinary people were +sitting outside their shops, contemplating their stores of +stuffs, and woollens, and bright handkerchiefs, and trinkets: and +looking, in all respects, as wary and business-like, as their +brethren in Houndsditch, London.</p> +<p>Having selected a Vetturíno from among the neighbouring +Christians, who agreed to carry us to Milan in two days and a +half, and to start, next morning, as soon as the gates were +opened, I returned to the Golden Lion, and dined luxuriously in +my own room, in a narrow passage between two bedsteads: +confronted by a smoky fire, and backed up by a chest of +drawers. At six o’clock next morning, we were +jingling in the dark through the wet cold mist that enshrouded +the town; and, before noon, the driver (a native of Mantua, and +sixty years of age or thereabouts) began <i>to ask the way</i> to +Milan.</p> +<p>It lay through Bozzolo; formerly a little republic, and now +one of the most deserted and poverty-stricken of towns: where the +landlord of the miserable inn (God bless him! it was his weekly +custom) was distributing infinitesimal coins among a clamorous +herd of women and children, whose rags were fluttering in the +wind and rain outside his door, where they were gathered to +receive his charity. It lay through mist, and mud, and +rain, and vines trained low upon the ground, all that day and the +next; the first sleeping-place being Cremona, memorable for its +dark brick churches, and immensely high tower, the +Torrazzo—to say nothing of its violins, of which it +certainly produces none in these degenerate days; and the second, +Lodi. Then we went on, through more mud, mist, and rain, +and marshy ground: and through such a fog, as Englishmen, strong +in the faith of their own grievances, are apt to believe is +nowhere to be found but in their own country, until we entered +the paved streets of Milan.</p> +<p>The fog was so dense here, that the spire of the far-famed +Cathedral might as well have been at Bombay, for anything that +could be seen of it at that time. But as we halted to +refresh, for a few days then, and returned to Milan again next +summer, I had ample opportunities of seeing the glorious +structure in all its majesty and beauty.</p> +<p>All Christian homage to the saint who lies within it! +There are many good and true saints in the calendar, but San +Carlo Borromeo has—if I may quote Mrs. Primrose on such a +subject—‘my warm heart.’ A charitable +doctor to the sick, a munificent friend to the poor, and this, +not in any spirit of blind bigotry, but as the bold opponent of +enormous abuses in the Romish church, I honour his memory. +I honour it none the less, because he was nearly slain by a +priest, suborned, by priests, to murder him at the altar: in +acknowledgment of his endeavours to reform a false and +hypocritical brotherhood of monks. Heaven shield all +imitators of San Carlo Borromeo as it shielded him! A +reforming Pope would need a little shielding, even now.</p> +<p>The subterranean chapel in which the body of San Carlo +Borromeo is preserved, presents as striking and as ghastly a +contrast, perhaps, as any place can show. The tapers which +are lighted down there, flash and gleam on alti-rilievi in gold +and silver, delicately wrought by skilful hands, and representing +the principal events in the life of the saint. Jewels, and +precious metals, shine and sparkle on every side. A +windlass slowly removes the front of the altar; and, within it, +in a gorgeous shrine of gold and silver, is seen, through +alabaster, the shrivelled mummy of a man: the pontifical robes +with which it is adorned, radiant with diamonds, emeralds, +rubies: every costly and magnificent gem. The shrunken heap +of poor earth in the midst of this great glitter, is more pitiful +than if it lay upon a dung-hill. There is not a ray of +imprisoned light in all the flash and fire of jewels, but seems +to mock the dusty holes where eyes were, once. Every thread +of silk in the rich vestments seems only a provision from the +worms that spin, for the behoof of worms that propagate in +sepulchres.</p> +<p>In the old refectory of the dilapidated Convent of Santa Maria +delle Grazie, is the work of art, perhaps, better known than any +other in the world: the Last Supper, by Leonardo da +Vinci—with a door cut through it by the intelligent +Dominican friars, to facilitate their operations at +dinner-time.</p> +<p>I am not mechanically acquainted with the art of painting, and +have no other means of judging of a picture than as I see it +resembling and refining upon nature, and presenting graceful +combinations of forms and colours. I am, therefore, no +authority whatever, in reference to the ‘touch’ of +this or that master; though I know very well (as anybody may, who +chooses to think about the matter) that few very great masters +can possibly have painted, in the compass of their lives, +one-half of the pictures that bear their names, and that are +recognised by many aspirants to a reputation for taste, as +undoubted originals. But this, by the way. Of the +Last Supper, I would simply observe, that in its beautiful +composition and arrangement, there it is, at Milan, a wonderful +picture; and that, in its original colouring, or in its original +expression of any single face or feature, there it is not. +Apart from the damage it has sustained from damp, decay, or +neglect, it has been (as Barry shows) so retouched upon, and +repainted, and that so clumsily, that many of the heads are, now, +positive deformities, with patches of paint and plaster sticking +upon them like wens, and utterly distorting the expression. +Where the original artist set that impress of his genius on a +face, which, almost in a line or touch, separated him from meaner +painters and made him what he was, succeeding bunglers, filling +up, or painting across seams and cracks, have been quite unable +to imitate his hand; and putting in some scowls, or frowns, or +wrinkles, of their own, have blotched and spoiled the work. +This is so well established as an historical fact, that I should +not repeat it, at the risk of being tedious, but for having +observed an English gentleman before the picture, who was at +great pains to fall into what I may describe as mild convulsions, +at certain minute details of expression which are not left in +it. Whereas, it would be comfortable and rational for +travellers and critics to arrive at a general understanding that +it cannot fail to have been a work of extraordinary merit, once: +when, with so few of its original beauties remaining, the +grandeur of the general design is yet sufficient to sustain it, +as a piece replete with interest and dignity.</p> +<p>We achieved the other sights of Milan, in due course, and a +fine city it is, though not so unmistakably Italian as to possess +the characteristic qualities of many towns far less important in +themselves. The Corso, where the Milanese gentry ride up +and down in carriages, and rather than not do which, they would +half starve themselves at home, is a most noble public promenade, +shaded by long avenues of trees. In the splendid theatre of +La Scala, there was a ballet of action performed after the opera, +under the title of Prometheus: in the beginning of which, some +hundred or two of men and women represented our mortal race +before the refinements of the arts and sciences, and loves and +graces, came on earth to soften them. I never saw anything +more effective. Generally speaking, the pantomimic action +of the Italians is more remarkable for its sudden and impetuous +character than for its delicate expression, but, in this case, +the drooping monotony: the weary, miserable, listless, moping +life: the sordid passions and desires of human creatures, +destitute of those elevating influences to which we owe so much, +and to whose promoters we render so little: were expressed in a +manner really powerful and affecting. I should have thought +it almost impossible to present such an idea so strongly on the +stage, without the aid of speech.</p> +<p>Milan soon lay behind us, at five o’clock in the +morning; and before the golden statue on the summit of the +cathedral spire was lost in the blue sky, the Alps, stupendously +confused in lofty peaks and ridges, clouds and snow, were +towering in our path.</p> +<p>Still, we continued to advance toward them until nightfall; +and, all day long, the mountain tops presented strangely shifting +shapes, as the road displayed them in different points of +view. The beautiful day was just declining, when we came +upon the Lago Maggiore, with its lovely islands. For +however fanciful and fantastic the Isola Bella may be, and is, it +still is beautiful. Anything springing out of that blue +water, with that scenery around it, must be.</p> +<p>It was ten o’clock at night when we got to Domo +d’Ossola, at the foot of the Pass of the Simplon. But +as the moon was shining brightly, and there was not a cloud in +the starlit sky, it was no time for going to bed, or going +anywhere but on. So, we got a little carriage, after some +delay, and began the ascent.</p> +<p>It was late in November; and the snow lying four or five feet +thick in the beaten road on the summit (in other parts the new +drift was already deep), the air was piercing cold. But, +the serenity of the night, and the grandeur of the road, with its +impenetrable shadows, and deep glooms, and its sudden turns into +the shining of the moon and its incessant roar of falling water, +rendered the journey more and more sublime at every step.</p> +<p>Soon leaving the calm Italian villages below us, sleeping in +the moonlight, the road began to wind among dark trees, and after +a time emerged upon a barer region, very steep and toilsome, +where the moon shone bright and high. By degrees, the roar +of water grew louder; and the stupendous track, after crossing +the torrent by a bridge, struck in between two massive +perpendicular walls of rock that quite shut out the moonlight, +and only left a few stars shining in the narrow strip of sky +above. Then, even this was lost, in the thick darkness of a +cavern in the rock, through which the way was pierced; the +terrible cataract thundering and roaring close below it, and its +foam and spray hanging, in a mist, about the entrance. +Emerging from this cave, and coming again into the moonlight, and +across a dizzy bridge, it crept and twisted upward, through the +Gorge of Gondo, savage and grand beyond description, <a +name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 294</span>with +smooth-fronted precipices, rising up on either hand, and almost +meeting overhead. Thus we went, climbing on our rugged way, +higher and higher all night, without a moment’s weariness: +lost in the contemplation of the black rocks, the tremendous +heights and depths, the fields of smooth snow lying, in the +clefts and hollows, and the fierce torrents thundering headlong +down the deep abyss.</p> +<p>Towards daybreak, we came among the snow, where a keen wind +was blowing fiercely. Having, with some trouble, awakened +the inmates of a wooden house in this solitude: round which the +wind was howling dismally, catching up the snow in wreaths and +hurling it away: we got some breakfast in a room built of rough +timbers, but well warmed by a stove, and well contrived (as it +had need to be) for keeping out the bitter storms. A sledge +being then made ready, and four horses harnessed to it, we went, +ploughing, through the snow. Still upward, but now in the +cold light of morning, and with the great white desert on which +we travelled, plain and clear.</p> +<p>We were well upon the summit of the mountain: and had before +us the rude cross of wood, denoting its greatest altitude above +the sea: when the light of the rising sun, struck, all at once, +upon the waste of snow, and turned it a deep red. The +lonely grandeur of the scene was then at its height.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p294b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Chiffonier" +title= +"The Chiffonier" +src="images/p294s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>As we went sledging on, there came out of the Hospice founded +by Napoleon, a group of Peasant travellers, with staves and +knapsacks, who had rested there last night: attended by a Monk or +two, their hospitable entertainers, trudging slowly forward with +them, for company’s sake. It was pleasant to give +them good morning, and pretty, looking back a long way after +them, to see them looking back at us, and hesitating presently, +when one of our horses stumbled and fell, whether or no they +should return and help us. But he was soon up again, with +the assistance of a rough waggoner whose team had stuck fast +there too; and when we had helped him out of his difficulty, in +return, we left him slowly ploughing towards them, and went +slowly and swiftly forward, on the brink of a steep precipice, +among the mountain pines.</p> +<p>Taking to our wheels again, soon afterwards, we began rapidly +to descend; passing under everlasting glaciers, by means of +arched galleries, hung with clusters of dripping icicles; under +and over foaming waterfalls; near places of refuge, and galleries +of shelter against sudden danger; through caverns over whose +arched roofs the avalanches slide, in spring, and bury themselves +in the unknown gulf beneath. Down, over lofty bridges, and +through horrible ravines: a little shifting speck in the vast +desolation of ice and snow, and monstrous granite rocks; down +through the deep Gorge of the Saltine, and deafened by the +torrent plunging madly down, among the riven blocks of rock, into +the level country, far below. Gradually down, by zig-zag +roads, lying between an upward and a downward precipice, into +warmer weather, calmer air, and softer scenery, until there lay +before us, glittering like gold or silver in the thaw and +sunshine, the metal-covered, red, green, yellow, domes and +church-spires of a Swiss town.</p> +<p>The business of these recollections being with Italy, and my +business, consequently, being to scamper back thither as fast as +possible, I will not recall (though I am sorely tempted) how the +Swiss villages, clustered at the feet of Giant mountains, looked +like playthings; or how confusedly the houses were heaped and +piled together; or how there were very narrow streets to shut the +howling winds out in the winter-time; and broken bridges, which +the impetuous torrents, suddenly released in spring, had swept +away. Or how there were peasant women here, with great +round fur caps: looking, when they peeped out of casements and +only their heads were seen, like a population of Sword-bearers to +the Lord Mayor of London; or how the town of Vevey, lying on the +smooth lake of Geneva, was beautiful to see; or how the statue of +Saint Peter in the street at Fribourg, grasps the largest key +that ever was beheld; or how Fribourg is illustrious for its two +suspension bridges, and its grand cathedral organ.</p> +<p>Or how, between that town and Bâle, the road meandered +among thriving villages of wooden cottages, with overhanging +thatched roofs, and low protruding windows, glazed with small +round panes of glass like crown-pieces; or how, in every little +Swiss homestead, with its cart or waggon carefully stowed away +beside the house, its little garden, stock of poultry, and groups +of red-cheeked children, there was an air of comfort, very new +and very pleasant after Italy; or how the dresses of the women +changed again, and there were no more sword-bearers to be seen; +and fair white stomachers, and great black, fan-shaped, +gauzy-looking caps, prevailed instead.</p> +<p>Or how the country by the Jura mountains, sprinkled with snow, +and lighted by the moon, and musical with falling water, was +delightful; or how, below the windows of the great hotel of the +Three Kings at Bâle, the swollen Rhine ran fast and green; +or how, at Strasbourg, it was quite as fast but not as green: and +was said to be foggy lower down: and, at that late time of the +year, was a far less certain means of progress, than the highway +road to Paris.</p> +<p>Or how Strasbourg itself, in its magnificent old Gothic +Cathedral, and its ancient houses with their peaked roofs and +gables, made a little gallery of quaint and interesting views; or +how a crowd was gathered inside the cathedral at noon, to see the +famous mechanical clock in motion, striking twelve. How, +when it struck twelve, a whole army of puppets went through many +ingenious evolutions; and, among them, a huge puppet-cock, +perched on the top, crowed twelve times, loud and clear. Or +how it was wonderful to see this cock at great pains to clap its +wings, and strain its throat; but obviously having no connection +whatever with its own voice; which was deep within the clock, a +long way down.</p> +<p>Or how the road to Paris, was one sea of mud, and thence to +the coast, a little better for a hard frost. Or how the +cliffs of Dover were a pleasant sight, and England was so +wonderfully neat—though dark, and lacking colour on a +winter’s day, it must be conceded.</p> +<p>Or how, a few days afterwards, it was cool, re-crossing the +channel, with ice upon the decks, and snow lying pretty deep in +France. Or how the Malle Poste scrambled through the snow, +headlong, drawn in the hilly parts by any number of stout horses +at a canter; or how there were, outside the Post-office Yard in +Paris, before daybreak, extraordinary adventurers in heaps of +rags, groping in the snowy streets with little rakes, in search +of odds and ends.</p> +<p>Or how, between Paris and Marseilles, the snow being then +exceeding deep, a thaw came on, and the mail waded rather than +rolled for the next three hundred miles or so; breaking springs +on Sunday nights, and putting out its two passengers to warm and +refresh themselves pending the repairs, in miserable +billiard-rooms, where hairy company, collected about stoves, were +playing cards; the cards being very like +themselves—extremely limp and dirty.</p> +<p>Or how there was detention at Marseilles from stress of +weather; and steamers were advertised to go, which did not go; or +how the good Steam-packet Charlemagne at length put out, and met +such weather that now she threatened to run into Toulon, and now +into Nice, but, the wind moderating, did neither, but ran on into +Genoa harbour instead, where the familiar Bells rang sweetly in +my ear. Or how there was a travelling party on board, of +whom one member was very ill in the cabin next to mine, and being +ill was cross, and therefore declined to give up the Dictionary, +which he kept under his pillow; thereby obliging his companions +to come down to him, constantly, to ask what was the Italian for +a lump of sugar—a glass of brandy and +water—what’s o’clock? and so forth: which he +always insisted on looking out, with his own sea-sick eyes, +declining to entrust the book to any man alive.</p> +<p>Like <span class="smcap">Grumio</span>, I might have told you, +in detail, all this and something more—but to as little +purpose—were I not deterred by the remembrance that my +business is with Italy. Therefore, like <span +class="smcap">Grumio’s</span> story, ‘it shall die in +oblivion.’</p> +<h2><a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 297</span>TO +ROME BY PISA AND SIENA</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is nothing in Italy, more +beautiful to me, than the coast-road between Genoa and +Spezzia. On one side: sometimes far below, sometimes nearly +on a level with the road, and often skirted by broken rocks of +many shapes: there is the free blue sea, with here and there a +picturesque felucca gliding slowly on; on the other side are +lofty hills, ravines besprinkled with white cottages, patches of +dark olive woods, country churches with their light open towers, +and country houses gaily painted. On every bank and knoll +by the wayside, the wild cactus and aloe flourish in exuberant +profusion; and the gardens of the bright villages along the road, +are seen, all blushing in the summer-time with clusters of the +Belladonna, and are fragrant in the autumn and winter with golden +oranges and lemons.</p> +<p>Some of the villages are inhabited, almost exclusively, by +fishermen; and it is pleasant to see their great boats hauled up +on the beach, making little patches of shade, where they lie +asleep, or where the women and children sit romping and looking +out to sea, while they mend their nets upon the shore. +There is one town, Camoglia, with its little harbour on the sea, +hundreds of feet below the road; where families of mariners live, +who, time out of mind, have owned coasting-vessels in that place, +and have traded to Spain and elsewhere. Seen from the road +above, it is like a tiny model on the margin of the dimpled +water, shining in the sun. Descended into, by the winding +mule-tracks, it is a perfect miniature of a primitive seafaring +town; the saltest, roughest, most piratical little place that +ever was seen. Great rusty iron rings and mooring-chains, +capstans, and fragments of old masts and spars, choke up the way; +hardy rough-weather boats, and seamen’s clothing, flutter +in the little harbour or are drawn out on the sunny stones to +dry; on the parapet of the rude pier, a few amphibious-looking +fellows lie asleep, with their legs dangling over the wall, as +though earth or water were all one to them, and if they slipped +in, they would float away, dozing comfortably among the fishes; +the church is bright with trophies of the sea, and votive +offerings, in commemoration of escape from storm and +shipwreck. The dwellings not immediately abutting on the +harbour are approached by blind low archways, and by crooked +steps, as if in darkness and in difficulty of access they should +be like holds of ships, or inconvenient cabins under water; and +everywhere, there is a smell of fish, and sea-weed, and old +rope.</p> +<p>The coast-road whence Camoglia is descried so far below, is +famous, in the warm season, especially in some parts near Genoa, +for fire-flies. Walking there on a dark night, I have seen +it made one sparkling firmament by these beautiful insects: so +that the distant stars were pale against the flash and glitter +that spangled every olive wood and hill-side, and pervaded the +whole air.</p> +<p>It was not in such a season, however, that we traversed this +road on our way to Rome. The middle of January was only +just past, and it was very gloomy and dark weather; very wet +besides. In crossing the fine pass of Bracco, we +encountered such a storm of mist and rain, that we travelled in a +cloud the whole way. There might have been no Mediterranean +in the world, for anything that we saw of it there, except when a +sudden gust of wind, clearing the mist before it, for a moment, +showed the agitated sea at a great depth below, lashing the +distant rocks, and spouting up its foam furiously. The rain +was incessant; every brook and torrent was greatly swollen; and +such a deafening leaping, and roaring, and thundering of water, I +never heard the like of in my life.</p> +<p>Hence, when we came to Spezzia, we found that the Magra, an +unbridged river on the high-road to Pisa, was too high to be +safely crossed in the Ferry Boat, and were fain to wait until the +afternoon of next day, when it had, in some degree, +subsided. Spezzia, however, is a good place to tarry at; by +reason, firstly, of its beautiful bay; secondly, of its ghostly +Inn; thirdly, of the head-dress of the women, who wear, on one +side of their head, a small doll’s straw hat, stuck on to +the hair; which is certainly the oddest and most roguish +head-gear that ever was invented.</p> +<p>The Magra safely crossed in the Ferry Boat—the passage +is not by any means agreeable, when the current is swollen and +strong—we arrived at Carrara, within a few hours. In +good time next morning, we got some ponies, and went out to see +the marble quarries.</p> +<p>They are four or five great glens, running up into a range of +lofty hills, until they can run no longer, and are stopped by +being abruptly strangled by Nature. The quarries, ‘or +caves,’ as they call them there, are so many openings, high +up in the hills, on either side of these passes, where they blast +and excavate for marble: which may turn out good or bad: may make +a man’s fortune very quickly, or ruin him by the great +expense of working what is worth nothing. Some of these +caves were opened by the ancient Romans, and remain as they left +them to this hour. Many others are being worked at this +moment; others are to be begun to-morrow, next week, next month; +others are unbought, unthought of; and marble enough for more +ages than have passed since the place was resorted to, lies +hidden everywhere: patiently awaiting its time of discovery.</p> +<p>As you toil and clamber up one of these steep gorges (having +left your pony soddening his girths in water, a mile or two lower +down) you hear, every now and then, echoing among the hills, in a +low tone, more silent than the previous silence, a melancholy +warning bugle,—a signal to the miners to withdraw. +Then, there is a thundering, and echoing from hill to hill, and +perhaps a splashing up of great fragments of rock into the air; +and on you toil again until some other bugle sounds, in a new +direction, and you stop directly, lest you should come within the +range of the new explosion.</p> +<p>There were numbers of men, working high up in these +hills—on the sides—clearing away, and sending down +the broken masses of stone and earth, to make way for the blocks +of marble that had been discovered. As these came rolling +down from unseen hands into the narrow valley, I could not help +thinking of the deep glen (just the same sort of glen) where the +Roc left Sindbad the Sailor; and where the merchants from the +heights above, flung down great pieces of meat for the diamonds +to stick to. There were no eagles here, to darken the sun +in their swoop, and pounce upon them; but it was as wild and +fierce as if there had been hundreds.</p> +<p>But the road, the road down which the marble comes, however +immense the blocks! The genius of the country, and the spirit of +its institutions, pave that road: repair it, watch it, keep it +going! Conceive a channel of water running over a rocky +bed, beset with great heaps of stone of all shapes and sizes, +winding down the middle of this valley; and <i>that</i> being the +road—because it was the road five hundred years ago! +Imagine the clumsy carts of five hundred years ago, being used to +this hour, and drawn, as they used to be, five hundred years ago, +by oxen, whose ancestors were worn to death five hundred years +ago, as their unhappy descendants are now, in twelve months, by +the suffering and agony of this cruel work! Two pair, four +pair, ten pair, twenty pair, to one block, according to its size; +down it must come, this way. In their struggling from stone +to stone, with their enormous loads behind them, they die +frequently upon the spot; and not they alone; for their +passionate drivers, sometimes tumbling down in their energy, are +crushed to death beneath the wheels. But it was good five +hundred years ago, and it must be good now: and a railroad down +one of these steeps (the easiest thing in the world) would be +flat blasphemy.</p> +<p>When we stood aside, to see one of these cars drawn by only a +pair of oxen (for it had but one small block of marble on it), +coming down, I hailed, in my heart, the man who sat upon the +heavy yoke, to keep it on the neck of the poor beasts—and +who faced backwards: not before him—as the very Devil of +true despotism. He had a great rod in his hand, with an +iron point; and when they could plough and force their way +through the loose bed of the torrent no longer, and came to a +stop, he poked it into their bodies, beat it on their heads, +screwed it round and round in their nostrils, got them on a yard +or two, in the madness of intense pain; repeated all these +persuasions, with increased intensity of purpose, when they +stopped again; got them on, once more; forced and goaded them to +an abrupter point of the descent; and when their writhing and +smarting, and the weight behind them, bore them plunging down the +precipice in a cloud of scattered water, whirled his rod above +his head, and gave a great whoop and hallo, as if he had achieved +something, and had no idea that they might shake him off, and +blindly mash his brains upon the road, in the noontide of his +triumph.</p> +<p>Standing in one of the many studii of Carrara, that +afternoon—for it is a great workshop, full of +beautifully-finished copies in marble, of almost every figure, +group, and bust, we know—it seemed, at first, so strange to +me that those exquisite shapes, replete with grace, and thought, +and delicate repose, should grow out of all this toil, and sweat, +and torture! But I soon found a parallel to it, and an +explanation of it, in every virtue that springs up in miserable +ground, and every good thing that has its birth in sorrow and +distress. And, looking out of the sculptor’s great +window, upon the marble mountains, all red and glowing in the +decline of day, but stern and solemn to the last, I thought, my +God! how many quarries of human hearts and souls, capable of far +more beautiful results, are left shut up and mouldering away: +while pleasure-travellers through life, avert their faces, as +they pass, and shudder at the gloom and ruggedness that conceal +them!</p> +<p>The then reigning Duke of Modena, to whom this territory in +part belonged, claimed the proud distinction of being the only +sovereign in Europe who had not recognised Louis-Philippe as King +of the French! He was not a wag, but quite in +earnest. He was also much opposed to railroads; and if +certain lines in contemplation by other potentates, on either +side of him, had been executed, would have probably enjoyed the +satisfaction of having an omnibus plying to and fro across his +not very vast dominions, to forward travellers from one terminus +to another.</p> +<p>Carrara, shut in by great hills, is very picturesque and +bold. Few tourists stay there; and the people are nearly +all connected, in one way or other, with the working of +marble. There are also villages among the caves, where the +workmen live. It contains a beautiful little Theatre, newly +built; and it is an interesting custom there, to form the chorus +of labourers in the marble quarries, who are self-taught and sing +by ear. I heard them in a comic opera, and in an act of +‘Norma;’ and they acquitted themselves very well; +unlike the common people of Italy generally, who (with some +exceptions among the Neapolitans) sing vilely out of tune, and +have very disagreeable singing voices.</p> +<p>From the summit of a lofty hill beyond Carrara, the first view +of the fertile plain in which the town of Pisa lies—with +Leghorn, a purple spot in the flat distance—is +enchanting. Nor is it only distance that lends enchantment +to the view; for the fruitful country, and rich woods of +olive-trees through which the road subsequently passes, render it +delightful.</p> +<p>The moon was shining when we approached Pisa, and for a long +time we could see, behind the wall, the leaning Tower, all awry +in the uncertain light; the shadowy original of the old pictures +in school-books, setting forth ‘The Wonders of the +World.’ Like most things connected in their first +associations with school-books and school-times, it was too +small. I felt it keenly. It was nothing like so high +above the wall as I had hoped. It was another of the many +deceptions practised by Mr. Harris, Bookseller, at the corner of +St. Paul’s Churchyard, London. <i>His</i> Tower was a +fiction, but this was a reality—and, by comparison, a short +reality. Still, it looked very well, and very strange, and +was quite as much out of the perpendicular as Harris had +represented it to be. The quiet air of Pisa too; the big +guard-house at the gate, with only two little soldiers in it; the +streets with scarcely any show of people in them; and the Arno, +flowing quaintly through the centre of the town; were +excellent. So, I bore no malice in my heart against Mr. +Harris (remembering his good intentions), but forgave him before +dinner, and went out, full of confidence, to see the Tower next +morning.</p> +<p>I might have known better; but, somehow, I had expected to see +it, casting its long shadow on a public street where people came +and went all day. It was a surprise to me to find it in a +grave retired place, apart from the general resort, and carpeted +with smooth green turf. But, the group of buildings, +clustered on and about this verdant carpet: comprising the Tower, +the Baptistery, the Cathedral, and the Church of the Campo Santo: +is perhaps the most remarkable and beautiful in the whole world; +and from being clustered there, together, away from the ordinary +transactions and details of the town, they have a singularly +venerable and impressive character. It is the architectural +essence of a rich old city, with all its common life and common +habitations pressed out, and filtered away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Simond</span> compares the Tower to the +usual pictorial representations in children’s books of the +Tower of Babel. It is a happy simile, and conveys a better +idea of the building than chapters of laboured description. +Nothing can exceed the grace and lightness of the structure; +nothing can be more remarkable than its general appearance. +In the course of the ascent to the top (which is by an easy +staircase), the inclination is not very apparent; but, at the +summit, it becomes so, and gives one the sensation of being in a +ship that has heeled over, through the action of an +ebb-tide. The effect <i>upon the low side</i>, so to +speak—looking over from the gallery, and seeing the shaft +recede to its base—is very startling; and I saw a nervous +traveller hold on to the Tower involuntarily, after glancing +down, as if he had some idea of propping it up. The view +within, from the ground—looking up, as through a slanted +tube—is also very curious. It certainly inclines as +much as the most sanguine tourist could desire. The natural +impulse of ninety-nine people out of a hundred, who were about to +recline upon the grass below it, to rest, and contemplate the +adjacent buildings, would probably be, not to take up their +position under the leaning side; it is so very much aslant.</p> +<p>The manifold beauties of the Cathedral and Baptistery need no +recapitulation from me; though in this case, as in a hundred +others, I find it difficult to separate my own delight in +recalling them, from your weariness in having them +recalled. There is a picture of St. Agnes, by Andrea del +Sarto, in the former, and there are a variety of rich columns in +the latter, that tempt me strongly.</p> +<p>It is, I hope, no breach of my resolution not to be tempted +into elaborate descriptions, to remember the Campo Santo; where +grass-grown graves are dug in earth brought more than six hundred +years ago, from the Holy Land; and where there are, surrounding +them, such cloisters, with such playing lights and shadows +falling through their delicate tracery on the stone pavement, as +surely the dullest memory could never forget. On the walls +of this solemn and lovely place, are ancient frescoes, very much +obliterated and decayed, but very curious. As usually +happens in almost any collection of paintings, of any sort, in +Italy, where there are many heads, there is, in one of them, a +striking accidental likeness of Napoleon. At one time, I +used to please my fancy with the speculation whether these old +painters, at their work, had a foreboding knowledge of the man +who would one day arise to wreak such destruction upon art: whose +soldiers would make targets of great pictures, and stable their +horses among triumphs of architecture. But the same +Corsican face is so plentiful in some parts of Italy at this day, +that a more commonplace solution of the coincidence is +unavoidable.</p> +<p>If Pisa be the seventh wonder of the world in right of its +Tower, it may claim to be, at least, the second or third in right +of its beggars. They waylay the unhappy visitor at every +turn, escort him to every door he enters at, and lie in wait for +him, with strong reinforcements, at every door by which they know +he must come out. The grating of the portal on its hinges +is the signal for a general shout, and the moment he appears, he +is hemmed in, and fallen on, by heaps of rags and personal +distortions. The beggars seem to embody all the trade and +enterprise of Pisa. Nothing else is stirring, but warm +air. Going through the streets, the fronts of the sleepy +houses look like backs. They are all so still and quiet, +and unlike houses with people in them, that the greater part of +the city has the appearance of a city at daybreak, or during a +general siesta of the population. Or it is yet more like +those backgrounds of houses in common prints, or old engravings, +where windows and doors are squarely indicated, and one figure (a +beggar of course) is seen walking off by itself into illimitable +perspective.</p> +<p>Not so Leghorn (made illustrious by <span +class="smcap">Smollett’s</span> grave), which is a +thriving, business-like, matter-of-fact place, where idleness is +shouldered out of the way by commerce. The regulations +observed there, in reference to trade and merchants, are very +liberal and free; and the town, of course, benefits by +them. Leghorn had a bad name in connection with stabbers, +and with some justice it must be allowed; for, not many years +ago, there was an assassination club there, the members of which +bore no ill-will to anybody in particular, but stabbed people +(quite strangers to them) in the streets at night, for the +pleasure and excitement of the recreation. I think the +president of this amiable society was a shoemaker. He was +taken, however, and the club was broken up. It would, +probably, have disappeared in the natural course of events, +before the railroad between Leghorn and Pisa, which is a good +one, and has already begun to astonish Italy with a precedent of +punctuality, order, plain dealing, and improvement—the most +dangerous and heretical astonisher of all. There must have +been a slight sensation, as of earthquake, surely, in the +Vatican, when the first Italian railroad was thrown open.</p> +<p>Returning to Pisa, and hiring a good-tempered +Vetturíno, and his four horses, to take us on to Rome, we +travelled through pleasant Tuscan villages and cheerful scenery +all day. The roadside crosses in this part of Italy are +numerous and curious. There is seldom a figure on the +cross, though there is sometimes a face, but they are remarkable +for being garnished with little models in wood, of every possible +object that can be connected with the Saviour’s +death. The cock that crowed when Peter had denied his +Master thrice, is usually perched on the tip-top; and an +ornithological phenomenon he generally is. Under him, is +the inscription. Then, hung on to the cross-beam, are the +spear, the reed with the sponge of vinegar and water at the end, +the coat without seam for which the soldiers cast lots, the +dice-box with which they threw for it, the hammer that drove in +the nails, the pincers that pulled them out, the ladder which was +set against the cross, the crown of thorns, the instrument of +flagellation, the lanthorn with which Mary went to the tomb (I +suppose), and the sword with which Peter smote the servant of the +high priest,—a perfect toy-shop of little objects, repeated +at every four or five miles, all along the highway.</p> +<p>On the evening of the second day from Pisa, we reached the +beautiful old city of Siena. There was what they called a +Carnival, in progress; but, as its secret lay in a score or two +of melancholy people walking up and down the principal street in +common toy-shop masks, and being more melancholy, if possible, +than the same sort of people in England, I say no more of +it. We went off, betimes next morning, to see the +Cathedral, which is wonderfully picturesque inside and out, +especially the latter—also the market-place, or great +Piazza, which is a large square, with a great broken-nosed +fountain in it: some quaint Gothic houses: and a high square +brick tower; <i>outside</i> the top of which—a curious +feature in such views in Italy—hangs an enormous +bell. It is like a bit of Venice, without the water. +There are some curious old Palazzi in the town, which is very +ancient; and without having (for me) the interest of Verona, or +Genoa, it is very dreamy and fantastic, and most interesting.</p> +<p>We went on again, as soon as we had seen these things, and +going over a rather bleak country (there had been nothing but +vines until now: mere walking-sticks at that season of the year), +stopped, as usual, between one and two hours in the middle of the +day, to rest the horses; that being a part of every +Vetturíno contract. We then went on again, through a +region gradually becoming bleaker and wilder, until it became as +bare and desolate as any Scottish moors. Soon after dark, +we halted for the night, at the osteria of La Scala: a perfectly +lone house, where the family were sitting round a great fire in +the kitchen, raised on a stone platform three or four feet high, +and big enough for the roasting of an ox. On the upper, and +only other floor of this hotel, there was a great, wild, rambling +sála, with one very little window in a by-corner, and four +black doors opening into four black bedrooms in various +directions. To say nothing of another large black door, +opening into another large black sála, with the staircase +coming abruptly through a kind of trap-door in the floor, and the +rafters of the roof looming above: a suspicious little press +skulking in one obscure corner: and all the knives in the house +lying about in various directions. The fireplace was of the +purest Italian architecture, so that it was perfectly impossible +to see it for the smoke. The waitress was like a dramatic +brigand’s wife, and wore the same style of dress upon her +head. The dogs barked like mad; the echoes returned the +compliments bestowed upon them; there was not another house +within twelve miles; and things had a dreary, and rather a +cut-throat, appearance.</p> +<p>They were not improved by rumours of robbers having come out, +strong and boldly, within a few nights; and of their having +stopped the mail very near that place. They were known to +have waylaid some travellers not long before, on Mount Vesuvius +itself, and were the talk at all the roadside inns. As they +were no business of ours, however (for we had very little with us +to lose), we made ourselves merry on the subject, and were very +soon as comfortable as need be. We had the usual dinner in +this solitary house; and a very good dinner it is, when you are +used to it. There is something with a vegetable or some +rice in it which is a sort of shorthand or arbitrary character +for soup, and which tastes very well, when you have flavoured it +with plenty of grated cheese, lots of salt, and abundance of +pepper. There is the half fowl of which this soup has been +made. There is a stewed pigeon, with the gizzards and +livers of himself and other birds stuck all round him. +There is a bit of roast beef, the size of a small French +roll. There are a scrap of Parmesan cheese, and five little +withered apples, all huddled together on a small plate, and +crowding one upon the other, as if each were trying to save +itself from the chance of being eaten. Then there is +coffee; and then there is bed. You don’t mind brick +floors; you don’t mind yawning doors, nor banging windows; +you don’t mind your own horses being stabled under the bed: +and so close, that every time a horse coughs or sneezes, he wakes +you. If you are good-humoured to the people about you, and +speak pleasantly, and look cheerful, take my word for it you may +be well entertained in the very worst Italian Inn, and always in +the most obliging manner, and may go from one end of the country +to the other (despite all stories to the contrary) without any +great trial of your patience anywhere. Especially, when you +get such wine in flasks, as the Orvieto, and the Monte +Pulciano.</p> +<p>It was a bad morning when we left this place; and we went, for +twelve miles, over a country as barren, as stony, and as wild, as +Cornwall in England, until we came to Radicofani, where there is +a ghostly, goblin inn: once a hunting-seat, belonging to the +Dukes of Tuscany. It is full of such rambling corridors, +and gaunt rooms, that all the murdering and phantom tales that +ever were written might have originated in that one house. +There are some horrible old Palazzi in Genoa: one in particular, +not unlike it, outside: but there is a winding, creaking, wormy, +rustling, door-opening, foot-on-staircase-falling character about +this Radicofani Hotel, such as I never saw, anywhere else. +The town, such as it is, hangs on a hill-side above the house, +and in front of it. The inhabitants are all beggars; and as +soon as they see a carriage coming, they swoop down upon it, like +so many birds of prey.</p> +<p>When we got on the mountain pass, which lies beyond this +place, the wind (as they had forewarned us at the inn) was so +terrific, that we were obliged to take my other half out of the +carriage, lest she should be blown over, carriage and all, and to +hang to it, on the windy side (as well as we could for laughing), +to prevent its going, Heaven knows where. For mere force of +wind, this land-storm might have competed with an Atlantic gale, +and had a reasonable chance of coming off victorious. The +blast came sweeping down great gullies in a range of mountains on +the right: so that we looked with positive awe at a great morass +on the left, and saw that there was not a bush or twig to hold +by. It seemed as if, once blown from our feet, we must be +swept out to sea, or away into space. There was snow, and +hail, and rain, and lightning, and thunder; and there were +rolling mists, travelling with incredible velocity. It was +dark, awful, and solitary to the last degree; there were +mountains above mountains, veiled in angry clouds; and there was +such a wrathful, rapid, violent, tumultuous hurry, everywhere, as +rendered the scene unspeakably exciting and grand.</p> +<p>It was a relief to get out of it, notwithstanding; and to +cross even the dismal, dirty Papal Frontier. After passing +through two little towns; in one of which, Acquapendente, there +was also a ‘Carnival’ in progress: consisting of one +man dressed and masked as a woman, and one woman dressed and +masked as a man, walking ankle-deep, through the muddy streets, +in a very melancholy manner: we came, at dusk, within sight of +the Lake of Bolsena, on whose bank there is a little town of the +same name, much celebrated for malaria. With the exception +of this poor place, there is not a cottage on the banks of the +lake, or near it (for nobody dare sleep there); not a boat upon +its waters; not a stick or stake to break the dismal monotony of +seven-and-twenty watery miles. We were late in getting in, +the roads being very bad from heavy rains; and, after dark, the +dulness of the scene was quite intolerable.</p> +<p>We entered on a very different, and a finer scene of +desolation, next night, at sunset. We had passed through +Montefiaschone (famous for its wine) and Viterbo (for its +fountains): and after climbing up a long hill of eight or ten +miles’ extent, came suddenly upon the margin of a solitary +lake: in one part very beautiful, with a luxuriant wood; in +another, very barren, and shut in by bleak volcanic hills. +Where this lake flows, there stood, of old, a city. It was +swallowed up one day; and in its stead, this water rose. +There are ancient traditions (common to many parts of the world) +of the ruined city having been seen below, when the water was +clear; but however that may be, from this spot of earth it +vanished. The ground came bubbling up above it; and the +water too; and here they stand, like ghosts on whom the other +world closed suddenly, and who have no means of getting back +again. They seem to be waiting the course of ages, for the +next earthquake in that place; when they will plunge below the +ground, at its first yawning, and be seen no more. The +unhappy city below, is not more lost and dreary, than these +fire-charred hills and the stagnant water, above. The red +sun looked strangely on them, as with the knowledge that they +were made for caverns and darkness; and the melancholy water +oozed and sucked the mud, and crept quietly among the marshy +grass and reeds, as if the overthrow of all the ancient towers +and housetops, and the death of all the ancient people born and +bred there, were yet heavy on its conscience.</p> +<p>A short ride from this lake, brought us to Ronciglione; a +little town like a large pig-sty, where we passed the +night. Next morning at seven o’clock, we started for +Rome.</p> +<p>As soon as we were out of the pig-sty, we entered on the +Campagna Romana; an undulating flat (as you know), where few +people can live; and where, for miles and miles, there is nothing +to relieve the terrible monotony and gloom. Of all kinds of +country that could, by possibility, lie outside the gates of +Rome, this is the aptest and fittest burial-ground for the Dead +City. So sad, so quiet, so sullen; so secret in its +covering up of great masses of ruin, and hiding them; so like the +waste places into which the men possessed with devils used to go +and howl, and rend themselves, in the old days of +Jerusalem. We had to traverse thirty miles of this +Campagna; and for two-and-twenty we went on and on, seeing +nothing but now and then a lonely house, or a villainous-looking +shepherd: with matted hair all over his face, and himself wrapped +to the chin in a frowsy brown mantle, tending his sheep. At +the end of that distance, we stopped to refresh the horses, and +to get some lunch, in a common malaria-shaken, despondent little +public-house, whose every inch of wall and beam, inside, was +(according to custom) painted and decorated in a way so miserable +that every room looked like the wrong side of another room, and, +with its wretched imitation of drapery, and lop-sided little +daubs of lyres, seemed to have been plundered from behind the +scenes of some travelling circus.</p> +<p>When we were fairly going off again, we began, in a perfect +fever, to strain our eyes for Rome; and when, after another mile +or two, the Eternal City appeared, at length, in the distance; it +looked like—I am half afraid to write the word—like +LONDON!!! There it lay, under a thick cloud, with +innumerable towers, and steeples, and roofs of houses, rising up +into the sky, and high above them all, one Dome. I swear, +that keenly as I felt the seeming absurdity of the comparison, it +was so like London, at that distance, that if you could have +shown it me, in a glass, I should have taken it for nothing +else.</p> +<h2><a name="page308"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +308</span>ROME</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> entered the Eternal City, at +about four o’clock in the afternoon, on the thirtieth of +January, by the Porta del Popolo, and came immediately—it +was a dark, muddy day, and there had been heavy rain—on the +skirts of the Carnival. We did not, then, know that we were +only looking at the fag end of the masks, who were driving slowly +round and round the Piazza until they could find a promising +opportunity for falling into the stream of carriages, and +getting, in good time, into the thick of the festivity; and +coming among them so abruptly, all travel-stained and weary, was +not coming very well prepared to enjoy the scene.</p> +<p>We had crossed the Tiber by the Ponte Molle two or three miles +before. It had looked as yellow as it ought to look, and +hurrying on between its worn-away and miry banks, had a promising +aspect of desolation and ruin. The masquerade dresses on +the fringe of the Carnival, did great violence to this +promise. There were no great ruins, no solemn tokens of +antiquity, to be seen;—they all lie on the other side of +the city. There seemed to be long streets of commonplace +shops and houses, such as are to be found in any European town; +there were busy people, equipages, ordinary walkers to and fro; a +multitude of chattering strangers. It was no more <i>my</i> +Rome: the Rome of anybody’s fancy, man or boy; degraded and +fallen and lying asleep in the sun among a heap of ruins: than +the Place de la Concorde in Paris is. A cloudy sky, a dull +cold rain, and muddy streets, I was prepared for, but not for +this: and I confess to having gone to bed, that night, in a very +indifferent humour, and with a very considerably quenched +enthusiasm.</p> +<p>Immediately on going out next day, we hurried off to St. +Peter’s. It looked immense in the distance, but +distinctly and decidedly small, by comparison, on a near +approach. The beauty of the Piazza, on which it stands, +with its clusters of exquisite columns, and its gushing +fountains—so fresh, so broad, and free, and +beautiful—nothing can exaggerate. The first burst of +the interior, in all its expansive majesty and glory: and, most +of all, the looking up into the Dome: is a sensation never to be +forgotten. But, there were preparations for a Festa; the +pillars of stately marble were swathed in some impertinent +frippery of red and yellow; the altar, and entrance to the +subterranean chapel: which is before it: in the centre of the +church: were like a goldsmith’s shop, or one of the opening +scenes in a very lavish pantomime. And though I had as high +a sense of the beauty of the building (I hope) as it is possible +to entertain, I felt no very strong emotion. I have been +infinitely more affected in many English cathedrals when the +organ has been playing, and in many English country churches when +the congregation have been singing. I had a much greater +sense of mystery and wonder, in the Cathedral of San Mark at +Venice.</p> +<p>When we came out of the church again (we stood nearly an hour +staring up into the dome: and would not have ‘gone +over’ the Cathedral then, for any money), we said to the +coachman, ‘Go to the Coliseum.’ In a quarter of +an hour or so, he stopped at the gate, and we went in.</p> +<p>It is no fiction, but plain, sober, honest Truth, to say: so +suggestive and distinct is it at this hour: that, for a +moment—actually in passing in—they who will, may have +the whole great pile before them, as it used to be, with +thousands of eager faces staring down into the arena, and such a +whirl of strife, and blood, and dust going on there, as no +language can describe. Its solitude, its awful beauty, and +its utter desolation, strike upon the stranger the next moment, +like a softened sorrow; and never in his life, perhaps, will he +be so moved and overcome by any sight, not immediately connected +with his own affections and afflictions.</p> +<p>To see it crumbling there, an inch a year; its walls and +arches overgrown with green; its corridors open to the day; the +long grass growing in its porches; young trees of yesterday, +springing up on its ragged parapets, and bearing fruit: chance +produce of the seeds dropped there by the birds who build their +nests within its chinks and crannies; to see its Pit of Fight +filled up with earth, and the peaceful Cross planted in the +centre; to climb into its upper halls, and look down on ruin, +ruin, ruin, all about it; the triumphal arches of Constantine, +Septimus Severus, and Titus; the Roman Forum; the Palace of the +Cæsars; the temples of the old religion, fallen down and +gone; is to see the ghost of old Rome, wicked, wonderful old +city, haunting the very ground on which its people trod. It +is the most impressive, the most stately, the most solemn, grand, +majestic, mournful sight, conceivable. Never, in its +bloodiest prime, can the sight of the gigantic Coliseum, full and +running over with the lustiest life, have moved one’s +heart, as it must move all who look upon it now, a ruin. +<span class="smcap">God</span> be thanked: a ruin!</p> +<p>As it tops the other ruins: standing there, a mountain among +graves: so do its ancient influences outlive all other remnants +of the old mythology and old butchery of Rome, in the nature of +the fierce and cruel Roman people. The Italian face changes +as the visitor approaches the city; its beauty becomes devilish; +and there is scarcely one countenance in a hundred, among the +common people in the streets, that would not be at home and happy +in a renovated Coliseum to-morrow.</p> +<p>Here was Rome indeed at last; and such a Rome as no one can +imagine in its full and awful grandeur! We wandered out +upon the Appian Way, and then went on, through miles of ruined +tombs and broken walls, with here and there a desolate and +uninhabited house: past the Circus of Romulus, where the course +of the chariots, the stations of the judges, competitors, and +spectators, are yet as plainly to be seen as in old time: past +the tomb of Cecilia Metella: past all inclosure, hedge, or stake, +wall or fence: away upon the open Campagna, where on that side of +Rome, nothing is to be beheld but Ruin. Except where the +distant Apennines bound the view upon the left, the whole wide +prospect is one field of ruin. Broken aqueducts, left in +the most picturesque and beautiful clusters of arches; broken +temples; broken tombs. A desert of decay, sombre and +desolate beyond all expression; and with a history in every stone +that strews the ground.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>On Sunday, the Pope assisted in the performance of High Mass +at St. Peter’s. The effect of the Cathedral on my +mind, on that second visit, was exactly what it was at first, and +what it remains after many visits. It is not religiously +impressive or affecting. It is an immense edifice, with no +one point for the mind to rest upon; and it tires itself with +wandering round and round. The very purpose of the place, +is not expressed in anything you see there, unless you examine +its details—and all examination of details is incompatible +with the place itself. It might be a Pantheon, or a Senate +House, or a great architectural trophy, having no other object +than an architectural triumph. There is a black statue of +St. Peter, to be sure, under a red canopy; which is larger than +life and which is constantly having its great toe kissed by good +Catholics. You cannot help seeing that: it is so very +prominent and popular. But it does not heighten the effect +of the temple, as a work of art; and it is not +expressive—to me at least—of its high purpose.</p> +<p>A large space behind the altar, was fitted up with boxes, +shaped like those at the Italian Opera in England, but in their +decoration much more gaudy. In the centre of the kind of +theatre thus railed off, was a canopied dais with the +Pope’s chair upon it. The pavement was covered with a +carpet of the brightest green; and what with this green, and the +intolerable reds and crimsons, and gold borders of the hangings, +the whole concern looked like a stupendous Bonbon. On +either side of the altar, was a large box for lady +strangers. These were filled with ladies in black dresses +and black veils. The gentlemen of the Pope’s guard, +in red coats, leather breeches, and jack-boots, guarded all this +reserved space, with drawn swords that were very flashy in every +sense; and from the altar all down the nave, a broad lane was +kept clear by the Pope’s Swiss guard, who wear a quaint +striped surcoat, and striped tight legs, and carry halberds like +those which are usually shouldered by those theatrical +supernumeraries, who never <i>can</i> get off the stage fast +enough, and who may be generally observed to linger in the +enemy’s camp after the open country, held by the opposite +forces, has been split up the middle by a convulsion of +Nature.</p> +<p>I got upon the border of the green carpet, in company with a +great many other gentlemen, attired in black (no other passport +is necessary), and stood there at my ease, during the performance +of Mass. The singers were in a crib of wirework (like a +large meat-safe or bird-cage) in one corner; and sang most +atrociously. All about the green carpet, there was a slowly +moving crowd of people: talking to each other: staring at the +Pope through eye-glasses; defrauding one another, in moments of +partial curiosity, out of precarious seats on the bases of +pillars: and grinning hideously at the ladies. Dotted here +and there, were little knots of friars (Frances-cáni, or +Cappuccíni, in their coarse brown dresses and peaked +hoods) making a strange contrast to the gaudy ecclesiastics of +higher degree, and having their humility gratified to the utmost, +by being shouldered about, and elbowed right and left, on all +sides. Some of these had muddy sandals and umbrellas, and +stained garments: having trudged in from the country. The +faces of the greater part were as coarse and heavy as their +dress; their dogged, stupid, monotonous stare at all the glory +and splendour, having something in it, half miserable, and half +ridiculous.</p> +<p>Upon the green carpet itself, and gathered round the altar, +was a perfect army of cardinals and priests, in red, gold, +purple, violet, white, and fine linen. Stragglers from +these, went to and fro among the crowd, conversing two and two, +or giving and receiving introductions, and exchanging +salutations; other functionaries in black gowns, and other +functionaries in court-dresses, were similarly engaged. In +the midst of all these, and stealthy Jesuits creeping in and out, +and the extreme restlessness of the Youth of England, who were +perpetually wandering about, some few steady persons in black +cassocks, who had knelt down with their faces to the wall, and +were poring over their missals, became, unintentionally, a sort +of humane man-traps, and with their own devout legs, tripped up +other people’s by the dozen.</p> +<p>There was a great pile of candles lying down on the floor near +me, which a very old man in a rusty black gown with an open-work +tippet, like a summer ornament for a fireplace in tissue-paper, +made himself very busy in dispensing to all the ecclesiastics: +one a-piece. They loitered about with these for some time, +under their arms like walking-sticks, or in their hands like +truncheons. At a certain period of the ceremony, however, +each carried his candle up to the Pope, laid it across his two +knees to be blessed, took it back again, and filed off. +This was done in a very attenuated procession, as you may +suppose, and occupied a long time. Not because it takes +long to bless a candle through and through, but because there +were so many candles to be blessed. At last they were all +blessed: and then they were all lighted; and then the Pope was +taken up, chair and all, and carried round the church.</p> +<p>I must say, that I never saw anything, out of November, so +like the popular English commemoration of the fifth of that +month. A bundle of matches and a lantern, would have made +it perfect. Nor did the Pope, himself, at all mar the +resemblance, though he has a pleasant and venerable face; for, as +this part of the ceremony makes him giddy and sick, he shuts his +eyes when it is performed: and having his eyes shut and a great +mitre on his head, and his head itself wagging to and fro as they +shook him in carrying, he looked as if his mask were going to +tumble off. The two immense fans which are always borne, +one on either side of him, accompanied him, of course, on this +occasion. As they carried him along, he blessed the people +with the mystic sign; and as he passed them, they kneeled +down. When he had made the round of the church, he was +brought back again, and if I am not mistaken, this performance +was repeated, in the whole, three times. There was, +certainly nothing solemn or effective in it; and certainly very +much that was droll and tawdry. But this remark applies to +the whole ceremony, except the raising of the Host, when every +man in the guard dropped on one knee instantly, and dashed his +naked sword on the ground; which had a fine effect.</p> +<p>The next time I saw the cathedral, was some two or three weeks +afterwards, when I climbed up into the ball; and then, the +hangings being taken down, and the carpet taken up, but all the +framework left, the remnants of these decorations looked like an +exploded cracker.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>The Friday and Saturday having been solemn Festa days, and +Sunday being always a <i>dies non</i> in carnival proceedings, we +had looked forward, with some impatience and curiosity, to the +beginning of the new week: Monday and Tuesday being the two last +and best days of the Carnival.</p> +<p>On the Monday afternoon at one or two o’clock, there +began to be a great rattling of carriages into the court-yard of +the hotel; a hurrying to and fro of all the servants in it; and, +now and then, a swift shooting across some doorway or balcony, of +a straggling stranger in a fancy dress: not yet sufficiently well +used to the same, to wear it with confidence, and defy public +opinion. All the carriages were open, and had the linings +carefully covered with white cotton or calico, to prevent their +proper decorations from being spoiled by the incessant pelting of +sugar-plums; and people were packing and cramming into every +vehicle as it waited for its occupants, enormous sacks and +baskets full of these confétti, together with such heaps +of flowers, tied up in little nosegays, that some carriages were +not only brimful of flowers, but literally running over: +scattering, at every shake and jerk of the springs, some of their +abundance on the ground. Not to be behindhand in these +essential particulars, we caused two very respectable sacks of +sugar-plums (each about three feet high) and a large +clothes-basket full of flowers to be conveyed into our hired +barouche, with all speed. And from our place of +observation, in one of the upper balconies of the hotel, we +contemplated these arrangements with the liveliest +satisfaction. The carriages now beginning to take up their +company, and move away, we got into ours, and drove off too, +armed with little wire masks for our faces; the sugar-plums, like +Falstaff’s adulterated sack, having lime in their +composition.</p> +<p>The Corso is a street a mile long; a street of shops, and +palaces, and private houses, sometimes opening into a broad +piazza. There are verandahs and balconies, of all shapes +and sizes, to almost every house—not on one story alone, +but often to one room or another on every story—put there +in general with so little order or regularity, that if, year +after year, and season after season, it had rained balconies, +hailed balconies, snowed balconies, blown balconies, they could +scarcely have come into existence in a more disorderly +manner.</p> +<p>This is the great fountain-head and focus of the +Carnival. But all the streets in which the Carnival is +held, being vigilantly kept by dragoons, it is necessary for +carriages, in the first instance, to pass, in line, down another +thoroughfare, and so come into the Corso at the end remote from +the Piázza del Popolo; which is one of its +terminations. Accordingly, we fell into the string of +coaches, and, for some time, jogged on quietly enough; now +crawling on at a very slow walk; now trotting half-a-dozen yards; +now backing fifty; and now stopping altogether: as the pressure +in front obliged us. If any impetuous carriage dashed out +of the rank and clattered forward, with the wild idea of getting +on faster, it was suddenly met, or overtaken, by a trooper on +horseback, who, deaf as his own drawn sword to all remonstrances, +immediately escorted it back to the very end of the row, and made +it a dim speck in the remotest perspective. Occasionally, +we interchanged a volley of confétti with the carriage +next in front, or the carriage next behind; but as yet, this +capturing of stray and errant coaches by the military, was the +chief amusement.</p> +<p>Presently, we came into a narrow street, where, besides one +line of carriages going, there was another line of carriages +returning. Here the sugar-plums and the nosegays began to +fly about, pretty smartly; and I was fortunate enough to observe +one gentleman attired as a Greek warrior, catch a light-whiskered +brigand on the nose (he was in the very act of tossing up a +bouquet to a young lady in a first-floor window) with a precision +that was much applauded by the bystanders. As this +victorious Greek was exchanging a facetious remark with a stout +gentleman in a doorway—one-half black and one-half white, +as if he had been peeled up the middle—who had offered him +his congratulations on this achievement, he received an orange +from a housetop, full on his left ear, and was much surprised, +not to say discomfited. Especially, as he was standing up +at the time; and in consequence of the carriage moving on +suddenly, at the same moment, staggered ignominiously, and buried +himself among his flowers.</p> +<p>Some quarter of an hour of this sort of progress, brought us +to the Corso; and anything so gay, so bright, and lively as the +whole scene there, it would be difficult to imagine. From +all the innumerable balconies: from the remotest and highest, no +less than from the lowest and nearest: hangings of bright red, +bright green, bright blue, white and gold, were fluttering in the +brilliant sunlight. From windows, and from parapets, and +tops of houses, streamers of the richest colours, and draperies +of the gaudiest and most sparkling hues, were floating out upon +the street. The buildings seemed to have been literally +turned inside out, and to have all their gaiety towards the +highway. Shop-fronts were taken down, and the windows +filled with company, like boxes at a shining theatre; doors were +carried off their hinges, and long tapestried groves, hung with +garlands of flowers and evergreens, displayed within; +builders’ scaffoldings were gorgeous temples, radiant in +silver, gold, and crimson; and in every nook and corner, from the +pavement to the chimney-tops, where women’s eyes could +glisten, there they danced, and laughed, and sparkled, like the +light in water. Every sort of bewitching madness of dress +was there. Little preposterous scarlet jackets; quaint old +stomachers, more wicked than the smartest bodices; Polish +pelisses, strained and tight as ripe gooseberries; tiny Greek +caps, all awry, and clinging to the dark hair, Heaven knows how; +every wild, quaint, bold, shy, pettish, madcap fancy had its +illustration in a dress; and every fancy was as dead forgotten by +its owner, in the tumult of merriment, as if the three old +aqueducts that still remain entire had brought Lethe into Rome, +upon their sturdy arches, that morning.</p> +<p>The carriages were now three abreast; in broader places four; +often stationary for a long time together, always one close mass +of variegated brightness; showing, the whole street-full, through +the storm of flowers, like flowers of a larger growth +themselves. In some, the horses were richly caparisoned in +magnificent trappings; in others they were decked from head to +tail, with flowing ribbons. Some were driven by coachmen +with enormous double faces: one face leering at the horses: the +other cocking its extraordinary eyes into the carriage: and both +rattling again, under the hail of sugar-plums. Other +drivers were attired as women, wearing long ringlets and no +bonnets, and looking more ridiculous in any real difficulty with +the horses (of which, in such a concourse, there were a great +many) than tongue can tell, or pen describe. Instead of +sitting <i>in</i> the carriages, upon the seats, the handsome +Roman women, to see and to be seen the better, sit in the heads +of the barouches, at this time of general licence, with their +feet upon the cushions—and oh, the flowing skirts and +dainty waists, the blessed shapes and laughing faces, the free, +good-humoured, gallant figures that they make! There were great +vans, too, full of handsome girls—thirty, or more together, +perhaps—and the broadsides that were poured into, and +poured out of, these fairy fire-shops, splashed the air with +flowers and bon-bons for ten minutes at a time. Carriages, +delayed long in one place, would begin a deliberate engagement +with other carriages, or with people at the lower windows; and +the spectators at some upper balcony or window, joining in the +fray, and attacking both parties, would empty down great bags of +confétti, that descended like a cloud, and in an instant +made them white as millers. Still, carriages on carriages, +dresses on dresses, colours on colours, crowds upon crowds, +without end. Men and boys clinging to the wheels of +coaches, and holding on behind, and following in their wake, and +diving in among the horses’ feet to pick up scattered +flowers to sell again; maskers on foot (the drollest generally) +in fantastic exaggerations of court-dresses, surveying the throng +through enormous eye-glasses, and always transported with an +ecstasy of love, on the discovery of any particularly old lady at +a window; long strings of Policinelli, laying about them with +blown bladders at the ends of sticks; a waggon-full of madmen, +screaming and tearing to the life; a coach-full of grave +mamelukes, with their horse-tail standard set up in the midst; a +party of gipsy-women engaged in terrific conflict with a shipful +of sailors; a man-monkey on a pole, surrounded by strange animals +with pigs’ faces, and lions’ tails, carried under +their arms, or worn gracefully over their shoulders; carriages on +carriages, dresses on dresses, colours on colours, crowds upon +crowds, without end. Not many actual characters sustained, +or represented, perhaps, considering the number dressed, but the +main pleasure of the scene consisting in its perfect good temper; +in its bright, and infinite, and flashing variety; and in its +entire abandonment to the mad humour of the time—an +abandonment so perfect, so contagious, so irresistible, that the +steadiest foreigner fights up to his middle in flowers and +sugar-plums, like the wildest Roman of them all, and thinks of +nothing else till half-past four o’clock, when he is +suddenly reminded (to his great regret) that this is not the +whole business of his existence, by hearing the trumpets sound, +and seeing the dragoons begin to clear the street.</p> +<p>How it ever <i>is</i> cleared for the race that takes place at +five, or how the horses ever go through the race, without going +over the people, is more than I can say. But the carriages +get out into the by-streets, or up into the Piázza del +Popolo, and some people sit in temporary galleries in the latter +place, and tens of thousands line the Corso on both sides, when +the horses are brought out into the Piázza—to the +foot of that same column which, for centuries, looked down upon +the games and chariot-races in the Circus Maximus.</p> +<p>At a given signal they are started off. Down the live +lane, the whole length of the Corso, they fly like the wind: +riderless, as all the world knows: with shining ornaments upon +their backs, and twisted in their plaited manes: and with heavy +little balls stuck full of spikes, dangling at their sides, to +goad them on. The jingling of these trappings, and the +rattling of their hoofs upon the hard stones; the dash and fury +of their speed along the echoing street; nay, the very cannon +that are fired—these noises are nothing to the roaring of +the multitude: their shouts: the clapping of their hands. +But it is soon over—almost instantaneously. More +cannon shake the town. The horses have plunged into the +carpets put across the street to stop them; the goal is reached; +the prizes are won (they are given, in part, by the poor Jews, as +a compromise for not running foot-races themselves); and there is +an end to that day’s sport.</p> +<p>But if the scene be bright, and gay, and crowded, on the last +day but one, it attains, on the concluding day, to such a height +of glittering colour, swarming life, and frolicsome uproar, that +the bare recollection of it makes me giddy at this moment. +The same diversions, greatly heightened and intensified in the +ardour with which they are pursued, go on until the same +hour. The race is repeated; the cannon are fired; the +shouting and clapping of hands are renewed; the cannon are fired +again; the race is over; and the prizes are won. But the +carriages: ankle-deep with sugar-plums within, and so be-flowered +and dusty without, as to be hardly recognisable for the same +vehicles that they were, three hours ago: instead of scampering +off in all directions, throng into the Corso, where they are soon +wedged together in a scarcely moving mass. For the +diversion of the Moccoletti, the last gay madness of the +Carnival, is now at hand; and sellers of little tapers like what +are called Christmas candles in England, are shouting lustily on +every side, ‘Moccoli, Moccoli! Ecco +Moccoli!’—a new item in the tumult; quite abolishing +that other item of ‘Ecco Fióri! Ecco +Fior-r-r!’ which has been making itself audible over all +the rest, at intervals, the whole day through.</p> +<p>As the bright hangings and dresses are all fading into one +dull, heavy, uniform colour in the decline of the day, lights +begin flashing, here and there: in the windows, on the housetops, +in the balconies, in the carriages, in the hands of the +foot-passengers: little by little: gradually, gradually: more and +more: until the whole long street is one great glare and blaze of +fire. Then, everybody present has but one engrossing +object; that is, to extinguish other people’s candles, and +to keep his own alight; and everybody: man, woman, or child, +gentleman or lady, prince or peasant, native or foreigner: yells +and screams, and roars incessantly, as a taunt to the subdued, +‘Senza Moccolo, Senza Moccolo!’ (Without a +light! Without a light!) until nothing is heard but a +gigantic chorus of those two words, mingled with peals of +laughter.</p> +<p>The spectacle, at this time, is one of the most extraordinary +that can be imagined. Carriages coming slowly by, with +everybody standing on the seats or on the box, holding up their +lights at arms’ length, for greater safety; some in paper +shades; some with a bunch of undefended little tapers, kindled +altogether; some with blazing torches; some with feeble little +candles; men on foot, creeping along, among the wheels, watching +their opportunity, to make a spring at some particular light, and +dash it out; other people climbing up into carriages, to get hold +of them by main force; others, chasing some unlucky wanderer, +round and round his own coach, to blow out the light he has +begged or stolen somewhere, before he can ascend to his own +company, and enable them to light their extinguished tapers; +others, with their hats off, at a carriage-door, humbly +beseeching some kind-hearted lady to oblige them with a light for +a cigar, and when she is in the fulness of doubt whether to +comply or no, blowing out the candle she is guarding so tenderly +with her little hand; other people at the windows, fishing for +candles with lines and hooks, or letting down long willow-wands +with handkerchiefs at the end, and flapping them out, +dexterously, when the bearer is at the height of his triumph, +others, biding their time in corners, with immense extinguishers +like halberds, and suddenly coming down upon glorious torches; +others, gathered round one coach, and sticking to it; others, +raining oranges and nosegays at an obdurate little lantern, or +regularly storming a pyramid of men, holding up one man among +them, who carries one feeble little wick above his head, with +which he defies them all! Senza Moccolo! Senza +Moccolo! Beautiful women, standing up in coaches, pointing +in derision at extinguished lights, and clapping their hands, as +they pass on, crying, ‘Senza Moccolo! Senza +Moccolo!’; low balconies full of lovely faces and gay +dresses, struggling with assailants in the streets; some +repressing them as they climb up, some bending down, some leaning +over, some shrinking back—delicate arms and +bosoms—graceful figures—glowing lights, fluttering +dresses, Senza Moccolo, Senza Moccoli, Senza +Moc-co-lo-o-o-o!—when in the wildest enthusiasm of the cry, +and fullest ecstasy of the sport, the Ave Maria rings from the +church steeples, and the Carnival is over in an instant—put +out like a taper, with a breath!</p> +<p>There was a masquerade at the theatre at night, as dull and +senseless as a London one, and only remarkable for the summary +way in which the house was cleared at eleven o’clock: which +was done by a line of soldiers forming along the wall, at the +back of the stage, and sweeping the whole company out before +them, like a broad broom. The game of the Moccoletti (the +word, in the singular, Moccoletto, is the diminutive of Moccolo, +and means a little lamp or candlesnuff) is supposed by some to be +a ceremony of burlesque mourning for the death of the Carnival: +candles being indispensable to Catholic grief. But whether +it be so, or be a remnant of the ancient Saturnalia, or an +incorporation of both, or have its origin in anything else, I +shall always remember it, and the frolic, as a brilliant and most +captivating sight: no less remarkable for the unbroken +good-humour of all concerned, down to the very lowest (and among +those who scaled the carriages, were many of the commonest men +and boys), than for its innocent vivacity. For, odd as it +may seem to say so, of a sport so full of thoughtlessness and +personal display, it is as free from any taint of immodesty as +any general mingling of the two sexes can possibly be; and there +seems to prevail, during its progress, a feeling of general, +almost childish, simplicity and confidence, which one thinks of +with a pang, when the Ave Maria has rung it away, for a whole +year.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Availing ourselves of a part of the quiet interval between the +termination of the Carnival and the beginning of the Holy Week: +when everybody had run away from the one, and few people had yet +begun to run back again for the other: we went conscientiously to +work, to see Rome. And, by dint of going out early every +morning, and coming back late every evening, and labouring hard +all day, I believe we made acquaintance with every post and +pillar in the city, and the country round; and, in particular, +explored so many churches, that I abandoned that part of the +enterprise at last, before it was half finished, lest I should +never, of my own accord, go to church again, as long as I +lived. But, I managed, almost every day, at one time or +other, to get back to the Coliseum, and out upon the open +Campagna, beyond the Tomb of Cecilia Metella.</p> +<p>We often encountered, in these expeditions, a company of +English Tourists, with whom I had an ardent, but ungratified +longing, to establish a speaking acquaintance. They were +one Mr. Davis, and a small circle of friends. It was +impossible not to know Mrs. Davis’s name, from her being +always in great request among her party, and her party being +everywhere. During the Holy Week, they were in every part +of every scene of every ceremony. For a fortnight or three +weeks before it, they were in every tomb, and every church, and +every ruin, and every Picture Gallery; and I hardly ever observed +Mrs. Davis to be silent for a moment. Deep underground, +high up in St. Peter’s, out on the Campagna, and stifling +in the Jews’ quarter, Mrs. Davis turned up, all the +same. I don’t think she ever saw anything, or ever +looked at anything; and she had always lost something out of a +straw hand-basket, and was trying to find it, with all her might +and main, among an immense quantity of English halfpence, which +lay, like sands upon the sea-shore, at the bottom of it. +There was a professional Cicerone always attached to the party +(which had been brought over from London, fifteen or twenty +strong, by contract), and if he so much as looked at Mrs. Davis, +she invariably cut him short by saying, ‘There, God bless +the man, don’t worrit me! I don’t understand a +word you say, and shouldn’t if you was to talk till you was +black in the face!’ Mr. Davis always had a +snuff-coloured great-coat on, and carried a great green umbrella +in his hand, and had a slow curiosity constantly devouring him, +which prompted him to do extraordinary things, such as taking the +covers off urns in tombs, and looking in at the ashes as if they +were pickles—and tracing out inscriptions with the ferrule +of his umbrella, and saying, with intense thoughtfulness, +‘Here’s a B you see, and there’s a R, and this +is the way we goes on in; is it!’ His antiquarian +habits occasioned his being frequently in the rear of the rest; +and one of the agonies of Mrs. Davis, and the party in general, +was an ever-present fear that Davis would be lost. This +caused them to scream for him, in the strangest places, and at +the most improper seasons. And when he came, slowly +emerging out of some sepulchre or other, like a peaceful Ghoule, +saying ‘Here I am!’ Mrs. Davis invariably replied, +‘You’ll be buried alive in a foreign country, Davis, +and it’s no use trying to prevent you!’</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Davis, and their party, had, probably, been +brought from London in about nine or ten days. Eighteen +hundred years ago, the Roman legions under Claudius, protested +against being led into Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s country, urging +that it lay beyond the limits of the world.</p> +<p>Among what may be called the Cubs or minor Lions of Rome, +there was one that amused me mightily. It is always to be +found there; and its den is on the great flight of steps that +lead from the Piazza di Spágna, to the church of +Trínita del Monte. In plainer words, these steps are +the great place of resort for the artists’ +‘Models,’ and there they are constantly waiting to be +hired. The first time I went up there, I could not conceive +why the faces seemed familiar to me; why they appeared to have +beset me, for years, in every possible variety of action and +costume; and how it came to pass that they started up before me, +in Rome, in the broad day, like so many saddled and bridled +nightmares. I soon found that we had made acquaintance, and +improved it, for several years, on the walls of various +Exhibition Galleries. There is one old gentleman, with long +white hair and an immense beard, who, to my knowledge, has gone +half through the catalogue of the Royal Academy. This is +the venerable, or patriarchal model. He carries a long +staff; and every knot and twist in that staff I have seen, +faithfully delineated, innumerable times. There is another +man in a blue cloak, who always pretends to be asleep in the sun +(when there is any), and who, I need not say, is always very wide +awake, and very attentive to the disposition of his legs. +This is the <i>dolce far’ niente</i> model. There is +another man in a brown cloak, who leans against a wall, with his +arms folded in his mantle, and looks out of the corners of his +eyes: which are just visible beneath his broad slouched +hat. This is the assassin model. There is another +man, who constantly looks over his own shoulder, and is always +going away, but never does. This is the haughty, or +scornful model. As to Domestic Happiness, and Holy +Families, they should come very cheap, for there are lumps of +them, all up the steps; and the cream of the thing is, that they +are all the falsest vagabonds in the world, especially made up +for the purpose, and having no counterparts in Rome or any other +part of the habitable globe.</p> +<p>My recent mention of the Carnival, reminds me of its being +said to be a mock mourning (in the ceremony with which it +closes), for the gaieties and merry-makings before Lent; and this +again reminds me of the real funerals and mourning processions of +Rome, which, like those in most other parts of Italy, are +rendered chiefly remarkable to a Foreigner, by the indifference +with which the mere clay is universally regarded, after life has +left it. And this is not from the survivors having had time +to dissociate the memory of the dead from their well-remembered +appearance and form on earth; for the interment follows too +speedily after death, for that: almost always taking place within +four-and-twenty hours, and, sometimes, within twelve.</p> +<p>At Rome, there is the same arrangement of Pits in a great, +bleak, open, dreary space, that I have already described as +existing in Genoa. When I visited it, at noonday, I saw a +solitary coffin of plain deal: uncovered by any shroud or pall, +and so slightly made, that the hoof of any wandering mule would +have crushed it in: carelessly tumbled down, all on one side, on +the door of one of the pits—and there left, by itself, in +the wind and sunshine. ‘How does it come to be left +here?’ I asked the man who showed me the place. +‘It was brought here half an hour ago, Signore,’ he +said. I remembered to have met the procession, on its +return: straggling away at a good round pace. ‘When +will it be put in the pit?’ I asked him. ‘When +the cart comes, and it is opened to-night,’ he said. +‘How much does it cost to be brought here in this way, +instead of coming in the cart?’ I asked him. +‘Ten scudi,’ he said (about two pounds, +two-and-sixpence, English). ‘The other bodies, for +whom nothing is paid, are taken to the church of the Santa Maria +della Consolázione,’ he continued, ‘and +brought here altogether, in the cart at night.’ I +stood, a moment, looking at the coffin, which had two initial +letters scrawled upon the top; and turned away, with an +expression in my face, I suppose, of not much liking its exposure +in that manner: for he said, shrugging his shoulders with great +vivacity, and giving a pleasant smile, ‘But he’s +dead, Signore, he’s dead. Why not?’</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Among the innumerable churches, there is one I must select for +separate mention. It is the church of the Ara Coeli, +supposed to be built on the site of the old Temple of Jupiter +Feretrius; and approached, on one side, by a long steep flight of +steps, which seem incomplete without some group of bearded +soothsayers on the top. It is remarkable for the possession +of a miraculous Bambíno, or wooden doll, representing the +Infant Saviour; and I first saw this miraculous Bambíno, +in legal phrase, in manner following, that is to say:</p> +<p>We had strolled into the church one afternoon, and were +looking down its long vista of gloomy pillars (for all these +ancient churches built upon the ruins of old temples, are dark +and sad), when the Brave came running in, with a grin upon his +face that stretched it from ear to ear, and implored us to follow +him, without a moment’s delay, as they were going to show +the Bambíno to a select party. We accordingly +hurried off to a sort of chapel, or sacristy, hard by the chief +altar, but not in the church itself, where the select party, +consisting of two or three Catholic gentlemen and ladies (not +Italians), were already assembled: and where one hollow-cheeked +young monk was lighting up divers candles, while another was +putting on some clerical robes over his coarse brown habit. +The candles were on a kind of altar, and above it were two +delectable figures, such as you would see at any English fair, +representing the Holy Virgin, and Saint Joseph, as I suppose, +bending in devotion over a wooden box, or coffer; which was +shut.</p> +<p>The hollow-cheeked monk, number One, having finished lighting +the candles, went down on his knees, in a corner, before this +set-piece; and the monk number Two, having put on a pair of +highly ornamented and gold-bespattered gloves, lifted down the +coffer, with great reverence, and set it on the altar. +Then, with many genuflexions, and muttering certain prayers, he +opened it, and let down the front, and took off sundry coverings +of satin and lace from the inside. The ladies had been on +their knees from the commencement; and the gentlemen now dropped +down devoutly, as he exposed to view a little wooden doll, in +face very like General Tom Thumb, the American Dwarf: gorgeously +dressed in satin and gold lace, and actually blazing with rich +jewels. There was scarcely a spot upon its little breast, +or neck, or stomach, but was sparkling with the costly offerings +of the Faithful. Presently, he lifted it out of the box, +and carrying it round among the kneelers, set its face against +the forehead of every one, and tendered its clumsy foot to them +to kiss—a ceremony which they all performed down to a dirty +little ragamuffin of a boy who had walked in from the +street. When this was done, he laid it in the box again: +and the company, rising, drew near, and commended the jewels in +whispers. In good time, he replaced the coverings, shut up +the box, put it back in its place, locked up the whole concern +(Holy Family and all) behind a pair of folding-doors; took off +his priestly vestments; and received the customary ‘small +charge,’ while his companion, by means of an extinguisher +fastened to the end of a long stick, put out the lights, one +after another. The candles being all extinguished, and the +money all collected, they retired, and so did the spectators.</p> +<p>I met this same Bambíno, in the street a short time +afterwards, going, in great state, to the house of some sick +person. It is taken to all parts of Rome for this purpose, +constantly; but, I understand that it is not always as successful +as could be wished; for, making its appearance at the bedside of +weak and nervous people in extremity, accompanied by a numerous +escort, it not unfrequently frightens them to death. It is +most popular in cases of child-birth, where it has done such +wonders, that if a lady be longer than usual in getting through +her difficulties, a messenger is despatched, with all speed, to +solicit the immediate attendance of the Bambíno. It +is a very valuable property, and much confided +in—especially by the religious body to whom it belongs.</p> +<p>I am happy to know that it is not considered immaculate, by +some who are good Catholics, and who are behind the scenes, from +what was told me by the near relation of a Priest, himself a +Catholic, and a gentleman of learning and intelligence. +This Priest made my informant promise that he would, on no +account, allow the Bambíno to be borne into the bedroom of +a sick lady, in whom they were both interested. +‘For,’ said he, ‘if they (the monks) trouble +her with it, and intrude themselves into her room, it will +certainly kill her.’ My informant accordingly looked +out of the window when it came; and, with many thanks, declined +to open the door. He endeavoured, in another case of which +he had no other knowledge than such as he gained as a passer-by +at the moment, to prevent its being carried into a small +unwholesome chamber, where a poor girl was dying. But, he +strove against it unsuccessfully, and she expired while the crowd +were pressing round her bed.</p> +<p>Among the people who drop into St. Peter’s at their +leisure, to kneel on the pavement, and say a quiet prayer, there +are certain schools and seminaries, priestly and otherwise, that +come in, twenty or thirty strong. These boys always kneel +down in single file, one behind the other, with a tall grim +master in a black gown, bringing up the rear: like a pack of +cards arranged to be tumbled down at a touch, with a +disproportionately large Knave of clubs at the end. When +they have had a minute or so at the chief altar, they scramble +up, and filing off to the chapel of the Madonna, or the +sacrament, flop down again in the same order; so that if anybody +did stumble against the master, a general and sudden overthrow of +the whole line must inevitably ensue.</p> +<p>The scene in all the churches is the strangest possible. +The same monotonous, heartless, drowsy chaunting, always going +on; the same dark building, darker from the brightness of the +street without; the same lamps dimly burning; the selfsame people +kneeling here and there; turned towards you, from one altar or +other, the same priest’s back, with the same large cross +embroidered on it; however different in size, in shape, in +wealth, in architecture, this church is from that, it is the same +thing still. There are the same dirty beggars stopping in +their muttered prayers to beg; the same miserable cripples +exhibiting their deformity at the doors; the same blind men, +rattling little pots like kitchen pepper-castors: their +depositories for alms; the same preposterous crowns of silver +stuck upon the painted heads of single saints and Virgins in +crowded pictures, so that a little figure on a mountain has a +head-dress bigger than the temple in the foreground, or adjacent +miles of landscape; the same favourite shrine or figure, +smothered with little silver hearts and crosses, and the like: +the staple trade and show of all the jewellers; the same odd +mixture of respect and indecorum, faith and phlegm: kneeling on +the stones, and spitting on them, loudly; getting up from prayers +to beg a little, or to pursue some other worldly matter: and then +kneeling down again, to resume the contrite supplication at the +point where it was interrupted. In one church, a kneeling +lady got up from her prayer, for a moment, to offer us her card, +as a teacher of Music; and in another, a sedate gentleman with a +very thick walking-staff, arose from his devotions to belabour +his dog, who was growling at another dog: and whose yelps and +howls resounded through the church, as his master quietly +relapsed into his former train of meditation—keeping his +eye upon the dog, at the same time, nevertheless.</p> +<p>Above all, there is always a receptacle for the contributions +of the Faithful, in some form or other. Sometimes, it is a +money-box, set up between the worshipper, and the wooden +life-size figure of the Redeemer; sometimes, it is a little chest +for the maintenance of the Virgin; sometimes, an appeal on behalf +of a popular Bambíno; sometimes, a bag at the end of a +long stick, thrust among the people here and there, and +vigilantly jingled by an active Sacristan; but there it always +is, and, very often, in many shapes in the same church, and doing +pretty well in all. Nor, is it wanting in the open +air—the streets and roads—for, often as you are +walking along, thinking about anything rather than a tin +canister, that object pounces out upon you from a little house by +the wayside; and on its top is painted, ‘For the Souls in +Purgatory;’ an appeal which the bearer repeats a great many +times, as he rattles it before you, much as Punch rattles the +cracked bell which his sanguine disposition makes an organ +of.</p> +<p>And this reminds me that some Roman altars of peculiar +sanctity, bear the inscription, ‘Every Mass performed at +this altar frees a soul from Purgatory.’ I have never +been able to find out the charge for one of these services, but +they should needs be expensive. There are several Crosses +in Rome too, the kissing of which, confers indulgences for +varying terms. That in the centre of the Coliseum, is worth +a hundred days; and people may be seen kissing it from morning to +night. It is curious that some of these crosses seem to +acquire an arbitrary popularity: this very one among them. +In another part of the Coliseum there is a cross upon a marble +slab, with the inscription, ‘Who kisses this cross shall be +entitled to Two hundred and forty days’ +indulgence.’ But I saw no one person kiss it, though, +day after day, I sat in the arena, and saw scores upon scores of +peasants pass it, on their way to kiss the other.</p> +<p>To single out details from the great dream of Roman Churches, +would be the wildest occupation in the world. But St. +Stefano Rotondo, a damp, mildewed vault of an old church in the +outskirts of Rome, will always struggle uppermost in my mind, by +reason of the hideous paintings with which its walls are +covered. These represent the martyrdoms of saints and early +Christians; and such a panorama of horror and butchery no man +could imagine in his sleep, though he were to eat a whole pig +raw, for supper. Grey-bearded men being boiled, fried, +grilled, crimped, singed, eaten by wild beasts, worried by dogs, +buried alive, torn asunder by horses, chopped up small with +hatchets: women having their breasts torn with iron pinchers, +their tongues cut out, their ears screwed off, their jaws broken, +their bodies stretched upon the rack, or skinned upon the stake, +or crackled up and melted in the fire: these are among the +mildest subjects. So insisted on, and laboured at, besides, +that every sufferer gives you the same occasion for wonder as +poor old Duncan awoke, in Lady Macbeth, when she marvelled at his +having so much blood in him.</p> +<p>There is an upper chamber in the Mamertine prisons, over what +is said to have been—and very possibly may have +been—the dungeon of St. Peter. This chamber is now +fitted up as an oratory, dedicated to that saint; and it lives, +as a distinct and separate place, in my recollection, too. +It is very small and low-roofed; and the dread and gloom of the +ponderous, obdurate old prison are on it, as if they had come up +in a dark mist through the floor. Hanging on the walls, +among the clustered votive offerings, are objects, at once +strangely in keeping, and strangely at variance, with the +place—rusty daggers, knives, pistols, clubs, divers +instruments of violence and murder, brought here, fresh from use, +and hung up to propitiate offended Heaven: as if the blood upon +them would drain off in consecrated air, and have no voice to cry +with. It is all so silent and so close, and tomb-like; and +the dungeons below are so black and stealthy, and stagnant, and +naked; that this little dark spot becomes a dream within a dream: +and in the vision of great churches which come rolling past me +like a sea, it is a small wave by itself, that melts into no +other wave, and does not flow on with the rest.</p> +<p>It is an awful thing to think of the enormous caverns that are +entered from some Roman churches, and undermine the city. +Many churches have crypts and subterranean chapels of great size, +which, in the ancient time, were baths, and secret chambers of +temples, and what not: but I do not speak of them. Beneath +the church of St. Giovanni and St. Paolo, there are the jaws of a +terrific range of caverns, hewn out of the rock, and said to have +another outlet underneath the Coliseum—tremendous +darknesses of vast extent, half-buried in the earth and +unexplorable, where the dull torches, flashed by the attendants, +glimmer down long ranges of distant vaults branching to the right +and left, like streets in a city of the dead; and show the cold +damp stealing down the walls, drip-drop, drip-drop, to join the +pools of water that lie here and there, and never saw, or never +will see, one ray of the sun. Some accounts make these the +prisons of the wild beasts destined for the amphitheatre; some +the prisons of the condemned gladiators; some, both. But +the legend most appalling to the fancy is, that in the upper +range (for there are two stories of these caves) the Early +Christians destined to be eaten at the Coliseum Shows, heard the +wild beasts, hungry for them, roaring down below; until, upon the +<a name="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 326</span>night +and solitude of their captivity, there burst the sudden noon and +life of the vast theatre crowded to the parapet, and of these, +their dreaded neighbours, bounding in!</p> +<p>Below the church of San Sebastiano, two miles beyond the gate +of San Sebastiano, on the Appian Way, is the entrance to the +catacombs of Rome—quarries in the old time, but afterwards +the hiding-places of the Christians. These ghastly passages +have been explored for twenty miles; and form a chain of +labyrinths, sixty miles in circumference.</p> +<p>A gaunt Franciscan friar, with a wild bright eye, was our only +guide, down into this profound and dreadful place. The +narrow ways and openings hither and thither, coupled with the +dead and heavy air, soon blotted out, in all of us, any +recollection of the track by which we had come: and I could not +help thinking ‘Good Heaven, if, in a sudden fit of madness, +he should dash the torches out, or if he should be seized with a +fit, what would become of us!’ On we wandered, among +martyrs’ graves: passing great subterranean vaulted roads, +diverging in all directions, and choked up with heaps of stones, +that thieves and murderers may not take refuge there, and form a +population under Rome, even worse than that which lives between +it and the sun. Graves, graves, graves; Graves of men, of +women, of their little children, who ran crying to the +persecutors, ‘We are Christians! We are +Christians!’ that they might be murdered with their +parents; Graves with the palm of martyrdom roughly cut into their +stone boundaries, and little niches, made to hold a vessel of the +martyrs’ blood; Graves of some who lived down here, for +years together, ministering to the rest, and preaching truth, and +hope, and comfort, from the rude altars, that bear witness to +their fortitude at this hour; more roomy graves, but far more +terrible, where hundreds, being surprised, were hemmed in and +walled up: buried before Death, and killed by slow +starvation.</p> +<p>‘The Triumphs of the Faith are not above ground in our +splendid churches,’ said the friar, looking round upon us, +as we stopped to rest in one of the low passages, with bones and +dust surrounding us on every side. ‘They are +here! Among the Martyrs’ Graves!’ He was +a gentle, earnest man, and said it from his heart; but when I +thought how Christian men have dealt with one another; how, +perverting our most merciful religion, they have hunted down and +tortured, burnt and beheaded, strangled, slaughtered, and +oppressed each other; I pictured to myself an agony surpassing +any that this Dust had suffered with the breath of life yet +lingering in it, and how these great and constant hearts would +have been shaken—how they would have quailed and +drooped—if a foreknowledge of the deeds that professing +Christians would commit in the Great Name for which they died, +could have rent them with its own unutterable anguish, on the +cruel wheel, and bitter cross, and in the fearful fire.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p326b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"In the Catacombs" +title= +"In the Catacombs" +src="images/p326s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Such are the spots and patches in my dream of churches, that +remain apart, and keep their separate identity. I have a +fainter recollection, sometimes of the relics; of the fragments +of the pillar of the Temple that was rent in twain; of the +portion of the table that was spread for the Last Supper; of the +well at which the woman of Samaria gave water to Our Saviour; of +two columns from the house of Pontius Pilate; of the stone to +which the Sacred hands were bound, when the scourging was +performed; of the grid-iron of Saint Lawrence, and the stone +below it, marked with the frying of his fat and blood; these set +a shadowy mark on some cathedrals, as an old story, or a fable +might, and stop them for an instant, as they flit before +me. The rest is a vast wilderness of consecrated buildings +of all shapes and fancies, blending one with another; of battered +pillars of old Pagan temples, dug up from the ground, and forced, +like giant captives, to support the roofs of Christian churches; +of pictures, bad, and wonderful, and impious, and ridiculous; of +kneeling people, curling incense, tinkling bells, and sometimes +(but not often) of a swelling organ: of Madonne, with their +breasts stuck full of swords, arranged in a half-circle like a +modern fan; of actual skeletons of dead saints, hideously attired +in gaudy satins, silks, and velvets trimmed with gold: their +withered crust of skull adorned with precious jewels, or with +chaplets of crushed flowers; sometimes of people gathered round +the pulpit, and a monk within it stretching out the crucifix, and +preaching fiercely: the sun just streaming down through some high +window on the sail-cloth stretched above him and across the +church, to keep his high-pitched voice from being lost among the +echoes of the roof. Then my tired memory comes out upon a +flight of steps, where knots of people are asleep, or basking in +the light; and strolls away, among the rags, and smells, and +palaces, and hovels, of an old Italian street.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>On one Saturday morning (the eighth of March), a man was +beheaded here. Nine or ten months before, he had waylaid a +Bavarian countess, travelling as a pilgrim to Rome—alone +and on foot, of course—and performing, it is said, that act +of piety for the fourth time. He saw her change a piece of +gold at Viterbo, where he lived; followed her; bore her company +on her journey for some forty miles or more, on the treacherous +pretext of protecting her; attacked her, in the fulfilment of his +unrelenting purpose, on the Campagna, within a very short +distance of Rome, near to what is called (but what is not) the +Tomb of Nero; robbed her; and beat her to death with her own +pilgrim’s staff. He was newly married, and gave some +of her apparel to his wife: saying that he had bought it at a +fair. She, however, who had seen the pilgrim-countess +passing through their town, recognised some trifle as having +belonged to her. Her husband then told her what he had +done. She, in confession, told a priest; and the man was +taken, within four days after the commission of the murder.</p> +<p>There are no fixed times for the administration of justice, or +its execution, in this unaccountable country; and he had been in +prison ever since. On the Friday, as he was dining with the +other prisoners, they came and told him he was to be beheaded +next morning, and took him away. It is very unusual to +execute in Lent; but his crime being a very bad one, it was +deemed advisable to make an example of him at that time, when +great numbers of pilgrims were coming towards Rome, from all +parts, for the Holy Week. I heard of this on the Friday +evening, and saw the bills up at the churches, calling on the +people to pray for the criminal’s soul. So, I +determined to go, and see him executed.</p> +<p>The beheading was appointed for fourteen and a-half +o’clock, Roman time: or a quarter before nine in the +forenoon. I had two friends with me; and as we did not know +but that the crowd might be very great, we were on the spot by +half-past seven. The place of execution was near the church +of San Giovanni decolláto (a doubtful compliment to Saint +John the Baptist) in one of the impassable back streets without +any footway, of which a great part of Rome is composed—a +street of rotten houses, which do not seem to belong to anybody, +and do not seem to have ever been inhabited, and certainly were +never built on any plan, or for any particular purpose, and have +no window-sashes, and are a little like deserted breweries, and +might be warehouses but for having nothing in them. +Opposite to one of these, a white house, the scaffold was +built. An untidy, unpainted, uncouth, crazy-looking thing +of course: some seven feet high, perhaps: with a tall, +gallows-shaped frame rising above it, in which was the knife, +charged with a ponderous mass of iron, all ready to descend, and +glittering brightly in the morning sun, whenever it looked out, +now and then, from behind a cloud.</p> +<p>There were not many people lingering about; and these were +kept at a considerable distance from the scaffold, by parties of +the Pope’s dragoons. Two or three hundred +foot-soldiers were under arms, standing at ease in clusters here +and there; and the officers were walking up and down in twos and +threes, chatting together, and smoking cigars.</p> +<p>At the end of the street, was an open space, where there would +be a dust-heap, and piles of broken crockery, and mounds of +vegetable refuse, but for such things being thrown anywhere and +everywhere in Rome, and favouring no particular sort of +locality. We got into a kind of wash-house, belonging to a +dwelling-house on this spot; and standing there in an old cart, +and on a heap of cartwheels piled against the wall, looked, +through a large grated window, at the scaffold, and straight down +the street beyond it until, in consequence of its turning off +abruptly to the left, our perspective was brought to a sudden +termination, and had a corpulent officer, in a cocked hat, for +its crowning feature.</p> +<p>Nine o’clock struck, and ten o’clock struck, and +nothing happened. All the bells of all the churches rang as +usual. A little parliament of dogs assembled in the open +space, and chased each other, in and out among the +soldiers. Fierce-looking Romans of the lowest class, in +blue cloaks, russet cloaks, and rags uncloaked, came and went, +and talked together. Women and children fluttered, on the +skirts of the scanty crowd. One large muddy spot was left +quite bare, like a bald place on a man’s head. A +cigar-merchant, with an earthen pot of charcoal ashes in one +hand, went up and down, crying his wares. A pastry-merchant +divided his attention between the scaffold and his +customers. Boys tried to climb up walls, and tumbled down +again. Priests and monks elbowed a passage for themselves +among the people, and stood on tiptoe for a sight of the knife: +then went away. Artists, in inconceivable hats of the +middle-ages, and beards (thank Heaven!) of no age at all, flashed +picturesque scowls about them from their stations in the +throng. One gentleman (connected with the fine arts, I +presume) went up and down in a pair of Hessian-boots, with a red +beard hanging down on his breast, and his long and bright red +hair, plaited into two tails, one on either side of his head, +which fell over his shoulders in front of him, very nearly to his +waist, and were carefully entwined and braided!</p> +<p>Eleven o’clock struck and still nothing happened. +A rumour got about, among the crowd, that the criminal would not +confess; in which case, the priests would keep him until the Ave +Maria (sunset); for it is their merciful custom never finally to +turn the crucifix away from a man at that pass, as one refusing +to be shriven, and consequently a sinner abandoned of the +Saviour, until then. People began to drop off. The +officers shrugged their shoulders and looked doubtful. The +dragoons, who came riding up below our window, every now and +then, to order an unlucky hackney-coach or cart away, as soon as +it had comfortably established itself, and was covered with +exulting people (but never before), became imperious, and +quick-tempered. The bald place hadn’t a straggling +hair upon it; and the corpulent officer, crowning the +perspective, took a world of snuff.</p> +<p>Suddenly, there was a noise of trumpets. +‘Attention!’ was among the foot-soldiers +instantly. They were marched up to the scaffold and formed +round it. The dragoons galloped to their nearer stations +too. The guillotine became the centre of a wood of +bristling bayonets and shining sabres. The people closed +round nearer, on the flank of the soldiery. A long +straggling stream of men and boys, who had accompanied the +procession from the prison, came pouring into the open +space. The bald spot was scarcely distinguishable from the +rest. The cigar and pastry-merchants resigned all thoughts +of business, for the moment, and abandoning themselves wholly to +pleasure, got good situations in the crowd. The perspective +ended, now, in a troop of dragoons. And the corpulent +officer, sword in hand, looked hard at a church close to him, +which he could see, but we, the crowd, could not.</p> +<p>After a short delay, some monks were seen approaching to the +scaffold from this church; and above their heads, coming on +slowly and gloomily, the effigy of Christ upon the cross, +canopied with black. This was carried round the foot of the +scaffold, to the front, and turned towards the criminal, that he +might see it to the last. It was hardly in its place, when +he appeared on the platform, bare-footed; his hands bound; and +with the collar and neck of his shirt cut away, almost to the +shoulder. A young man—six-and-twenty—vigorously +made, and well-shaped. Face pale; small dark moustache; and +dark brown hair.</p> +<p>He had refused to confess, it seemed, without first having his +wife brought to see him; and they had sent an escort for her, +which had occasioned the delay.</p> +<p>He immediately kneeled down, below the knife. His neck +fitting into a hole, made for the purpose, in a cross plank, was +shut down, by another plank above; exactly like the +pillory. Immediately below him was a leathern bag. +And into it his head rolled instantly.</p> +<p>The executioner was holding it by the hair, and walking with +it round the scaffold, showing it to the people, before one quite +knew that the knife had fallen heavily, and with a rattling +sound.</p> +<p>When it had travelled round the four sides of the scaffold, it +was set upon a pole in front—a little patch of black and +white, for the long street to stare at, and the flies to settle +on. The eyes were turned upward, as if he had avoided the +sight of the leathern bag, and looked to the crucifix. +Every tinge and hue of life had left it in that instant. It +was dull, cold, livid, wax. The body also.</p> +<p>There was a great deal of blood. When we left the +window, and went close up to the scaffold, it was very dirty; one +of the two men who were throwing water over it, turning to help +the other lift the body into a shell, picked his way as through +mire. A strange appearance was the apparent annihilation of +the neck. The head was taken off so close, that it seemed +as if the knife had narrowly escaped crushing the jaw, or shaving +off the ear; and the body looked as if there were nothing left +above the shoulder.</p> +<p>Nobody cared, or was at all affected. There was no +manifestation of disgust, or pity, or indignation, or +sorrow. My empty pockets were tried, several times, in the +crowd immediately below the scaffold, as the corpse was being put +into its coffin. It was an ugly, filthy, careless, +sickening spectacle; meaning nothing but butchery beyond the +momentary interest, to the one wretched actor. Yes! +Such a sight has one meaning and one warning. Let me not +forget it. The speculators in the lottery, station +themselves at favourable points for counting the gouts of blood +that spirt out, here or there; and buy that number. It is +pretty sure to have a run upon it.</p> +<p>The body was carted away in due time, the knife cleansed, the +scaffold taken down, and all the hideous apparatus removed. +The executioner: an outlaw <i>ex officio</i> (what a satire on +the Punishment!) who dare not, for his life, cross the Bridge of +St. Angelo but to do his work: retreated to his lair, and the +show was over.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>At the head of the collections in the palaces of Rome, the +Vatican, of course, with its treasures of art, its enormous +galleries, and staircases, and suites upon suites of immense +chambers, ranks highest and stands foremost. Many most +noble statues, and wonderful pictures, are there; nor is it +heresy to say that there is a considerable amount of rubbish +there, too. When any old piece of sculpture dug out of the +ground, finds a place in a gallery because it is old, and without +any reference to its intrinsic merits: and finds admirers by the +hundred, because it is there, and for no other reason on earth: +there will be no lack of objects, very indifferent in the plain +eyesight of any one who employs so vulgar a property, when he may +wear the spectacles of Cant for less than nothing, and establish +himself as a man of taste for the mere trouble of putting them +on.</p> +<p>I unreservedly confess, for myself, that I cannot leave my +natural perception of what is natural and true, at a palace-door, +in Italy or elsewhere, as I should leave my shoes if I were +travelling in the East. I cannot forget that there are +certain expressions of face, natural to certain passions, and as +unchangeable in their nature as the gait of a lion, or the flight +of an eagle. I cannot dismiss from my certain knowledge, +such commonplace facts as the ordinary proportion of men’s +arms, and legs, and heads; and when I meet with performances that +do violence to these experiences and recollections, no matter +where they may be, I cannot honestly admire them, and think it +best to say so; in spite of high critical advice that we should +sometimes feign an admiration, though we have it not.</p> +<p>Therefore, I freely acknowledge that when I see a jolly young +Waterman representing a cherubim, or a Barclay and +Perkins’s Drayman depicted as an Evangelist, I see nothing +to commend or admire in the performance, however great its +reputed Painter. Neither am I partial to libellous Angels, +who play on fiddles and bassoons, for the edification of +sprawling monks apparently in liquor. Nor to those Monsieur +Tonsons of galleries, Saint Francis and Saint Sebastian; both of +whom I submit should have very uncommon and rare merits, as works +of art, to justify their compound multiplication by Italian +Painters.</p> +<p>It seems to me, too, that the indiscriminate and determined +raptures in which some critics indulge, is incompatible with the +true appreciation of the really great and transcendent +works. I cannot imagine, for example, how the resolute +champion of undeserving pictures can soar to the amazing beauty +of Titian’s great picture of the Assumption of the Virgin +at Venice; or how the man who is truly affected by the sublimity +of that exquisite production, or who is truly sensible of the +beauty of Tintoretto’s great picture of the Assembly of the +Blessed in the same place, can discern in Michael Angelo’s +Last Judgment, in the Sistine chapel, any general idea, or one +pervading thought, in harmony with the stupendous subject. +He who will contemplate Raphael’s masterpiece, the +Transfiguration, and will go away into another chamber of that +same Vatican, and contemplate another design of Raphael, +representing (in incredible caricature) the miraculous stopping +of a great fire by Leo the Fourth—and who will say that he +admires them both, as works of extraordinary genius—must, +as I think, be wanting in his powers of perception in one of the +two instances, and, probably, in the high and lofty one.</p> +<p>It is easy to suggest a doubt, but I have a great doubt +whether, sometimes, the rules of art are not too strictly +observed, and whether it is quite well or agreeable that we +should know beforehand, where this figure will be turning round, +and where that figure will be lying down, and where there will be +drapery in folds, and so forth. When I observe heads +inferior to the subject, in pictures of merit, in Italian +galleries, I do not attach that reproach to the Painter, for I +have a suspicion that these great men, who were, of necessity, +very much in the hands of monks and priests, painted monks and +priests a great deal too often. I frequently see, in +pictures of real power, heads quite below the story and the +painter: and I invariably observe that those heads are of the +Convent stamp, and have their counterparts among the Convent +inmates of this hour; so, I have settled with myself that, in +such cases, the lameness was not with the painter, but with the +vanity and ignorance of certain of his employers, who would be +apostles—on canvas, at all events.</p> +<p>The exquisite grace and beauty of Canova’s statues; the +wonderful gravity and repose of many of the ancient works in +sculpture, both in the Capitol and the Vatican; and the strength +and fire of many others; are, in their different ways, beyond all +reach of words. They are especially impressive and +delightful, after the works of Bernini and his disciples, in +which the churches of Rome, from St. Peter’s downward, +abound; and which are, I verily believe, the most detestable +class of productions in the wide world. I would infinitely +rather (as mere works of art) look upon the three deities of the +Past, the Present, and the Future, in the Chinese Collection, +than upon the best of these breezy maniacs; whose every fold of +drapery is blown inside-out; whose smallest vein, or artery, is +as big as an ordinary forefinger; whose hair is like a nest of +lively snakes; and whose attitudes put all other extravagance to +shame. Insomuch that I do honestly believe, there can be no +place in the world, where such intolerable abortions, begotten of +the sculptor’s chisel, are to be found in such profusion, +as in Rome.</p> +<p>There is a fine collection of Egyptian antiquities, in the +Vatican; and the ceilings of the rooms in which they are +arranged, are painted to represent a starlight sky in the +Desert. It may seem an odd idea, but it is very +effective. The grim, half-human monsters from the temples, +look more grim and monstrous underneath the deep dark blue; it +sheds a strange uncertain gloomy air on everything—a +mystery adapted to the objects; and you leave them, as you find +them, shrouded in a solemn night.</p> +<p>In the private palaces, pictures are seen to the best +advantage. There are seldom so many in one place that the +attention need become distracted, or the eye confused. You +see them very leisurely; and are rarely interrupted by a crowd of +people. There are portraits innumerable, by Titian, and +Rembrandt, and Vandyke; heads by Guido, and Domenichino, and +Carlo Dolci; various subjects by Correggio, and Murillo, and +Raphael, and Salvator Rosa, and Spagnoletto—many of which +it would be difficult, indeed, to praise too highly, or to praise +enough; such is their tenderness and grace; their noble +elevation, purity, and beauty.</p> +<p>The portrait of Beatrice di Cenci, in the Palazzo Berberini, +is a picture almost impossible to be forgotten. Through the +transcendent sweetness and beauty of the face, there is a +something shining out, that haunts me. I see it now, as I +see this paper, or my pen. The head is loosely draped in +white; the light hair falling down below the linen folds. +She has turned suddenly towards you; and there is an expression +in the eyes—although they are very tender and +gentle—as if the wildness of a momentary terror, or +distraction, had been struggled with and overcome, that instant; +and nothing but a celestial hope, and a beautiful sorrow, and a +desolate earthly helplessness remained. Some stories say +that Guido painted it, the night before her execution; some other +stories, that he painted it from memory, after having seen her, +on her way to the scaffold. I am willing to believe that, +as you see her on his canvas, so she turned towards him, in the +crowd, from the first sight of the axe, and stamped upon his mind +a look which he has stamped on mine as though I had stood beside +him in the concourse. The guilty palace of the Cenci: +blighting a whole quarter of the town, as it stands withering +away by grains: had that face, to my fancy, in its dismal porch, +and at its black, blind windows, and flitting up and down its +dreary stairs, and growing out of the darkness of the ghostly +galleries. The History is written in the Painting; written, +in the dying girl’s face, by Nature’s own hand. +And oh! how in that one touch she puts to flight (instead of +making kin) the puny world that claim to be related to her, in +right of poor conventional forgeries!</p> +<p>I saw in the Palazzo Spada, the statue of Pompey; the statue +at whose base Cæsar fell. A stern, tremendous +figure! I imagined one of greater finish: of the last +refinement: full of delicate touches: losing its distinctness, in +the giddy eyes of one whose blood was ebbing before it, and +settling into some such rigid majesty as this, as Death came +creeping over the upturned face.</p> +<p>The excursions in the neighbourhood of Rome are charming, and +would be full of interest were it only for the changing views +they afford, of the wild Campagna. But, every inch of +ground, in every direction, is rich in associations, and in +natural beauties. There is Albano, with its lovely lake and +wooded shore, and with its wine, that certainly has not improved +since the days of Horace, and in these times hardly justifies his +panegyric. There is squalid Tivoli, with the river Anio, +diverted from its course, and plunging down, headlong, some +eighty feet in search of it. With its picturesque Temple of +the Sibyl, perched high on a crag; its minor waterfalls glancing +and sparkling in the sun; and one good cavern yawning darkly, +where the river takes a fearful plunge and shoots on, low down +under beetling rocks. There, too, is the Villa +d’Este, deserted and decaying among groves of melancholy +pine and cypress trees, where it seems to lie in state. +Then, there is Frascati, and, on the steep above it, the ruins of +Tusculum, where Cicero lived, and wrote, and adorned his +favourite house (some fragments of it may yet be seen there), and +where Cato was born. We saw its ruined amphitheatre on a +grey, dull day, when a shrill March wind was blowing, and when +the scattered stones of the old city lay strewn about the lonely +eminence, as desolate and dead as the ashes of a long +extinguished fire.</p> +<p>One day we walked out, a little party of three, to Albano, +fourteen miles distant; possessed by a great desire to go there +by the ancient Appian way, long since ruined and overgrown. +We started at half-past seven in the morning, and within an hour +or so were out upon the open Campagna. For twelve miles we +went climbing on, over an unbroken succession of mounds, and +heaps, and hills, of ruin. Tombs and temples, overthrown +and prostrate; small fragments of columns, friezes, pediments; +great blocks of granite and marble; mouldering arches, +grass-grown and decayed; ruin enough to build a spacious city +from; lay strewn about us. Sometimes, loose walls, built up +from these fragments by the shepherds, came across our path; +sometimes, a ditch between two mounds of broken stones, +obstructed our progress; sometimes, the fragments themselves, +rolling from beneath our feet, made it a toilsome matter to +advance; but it was always ruin. Now, we tracked a piece of +the old road, above the ground; now traced it, underneath a +grassy covering, as if that were its grave; but all the way was +ruin. In the distance, ruined aqueducts went stalking on +their giant course along the plain; and every breath of wind that +swept towards us, stirred early flowers and grasses, springing +up, spontaneously, on miles of ruin. The unseen larks above +us, who alone disturbed the awful silence, had their nests in +ruin; and the fierce herdsmen, clad in sheepskins, who now and +then scowled out upon us from their sleeping nooks, were housed +in ruin. The aspect of the desolate Campagna in one +direction, where it was most level, reminded me of an American +prairie; but what is the solitude of a region where men have +never dwelt, to that of a Desert, where a mighty race have left +their footprints in the earth from which they have vanished; +where the resting-places of their Dead, have fallen like their +Dead; and the broken hour-glass of Time is but a heap of idle +dust! Returning, by the road, at sunset! and looking, from +the distance, on the course we had taken in the morning, I almost +feel (as I had felt when I first saw it, at that hour) as if the +sun would never rise again, but looked its last, that night, upon +a ruined world.</p> +<p>To come again on Rome, by moonlight, after such an expedition, +is a fitting close to such a day. The narrow streets, +devoid of footways, and choked, in every obscure corner, by heaps +of dunghill-rubbish, contrast so strongly, in their cramped +dimensions, and their filth, and darkness, with the broad square +before some haughty church: in the centre of which, a +hieroglyphic-covered obelisk, brought from Egypt in the days of +the Emperors, looks strangely on the foreign scene about it; or +perhaps an ancient pillar, with its honoured statue overthrown, +supports a Christian saint: Marcus Aurelius giving place to Paul, +and Trajan to St. Peter. Then, there are the ponderous +buildings reared from the spoliation of the Coliseum, shutting +out the moon, like mountains: while here and there, are broken +arches and rent walls, through which it gushes freely, as the +life comes pouring from a wound. The little town of +miserable houses, walled, and shut in by barred gates, is the +quarter where the Jews are locked up nightly, when the clock +strikes eight—a miserable place, densely populated, and +reeking with bad odours, but where the people are industrious and +money-getting. In the day-time, as you make your way along +the narrow streets, you see them all at work: upon the pavement, +oftener than in their dark and frouzy shops: furbishing old +clothes, and driving bargains.</p> +<p>Crossing from these patches of thick darkness, out into the +moon once more, the fountain of Trevi, welling from a hundred +jets, and rolling over mimic rocks, is silvery to the eye and +ear. In the narrow little throat of street, beyond, a +booth, dressed out with flaring lamps, and boughs of trees, +attracts a group of sulky Romans round its smoky coppers of hot +broth, and cauliflower stew; its trays of fried fish, and its +flasks of wine. As you rattle round the sharply-twisting +corner, a lumbering sound is heard. The coachman stops +abruptly, and uncovers, as a van comes slowly by, preceded by a +man who bears a large cross; by a torch-bearer; and a priest: the +latter chaunting as he goes. It is the Dead Cart, with the +bodies of the poor, on their way to burial in the Sacred Field +outside the walls, where they will be thrown into the pit that +will be covered with a stone to-night, and sealed up for a +year.</p> +<p>But whether, in this ride, you pass by obelisks, or columns +ancient temples, theatres, houses, porticoes, or forums: it is +strange to see, how every fragment, whenever it is possible, has +been blended into some modern structure, and made to serve some +modern purpose—a wall, a dwelling-place, a granary, a +stable—some use for which it never was designed, and +associated with which it cannot otherwise than lamely +assort. It is stranger still, to see how many ruins of the +old mythology: how many fragments of obsolete legend and +observance: have been incorporated into the worship of Christian +altars here; and how, in numberless respects, the false faith and +the true are fused into a monstrous union.</p> +<p>From one part of the city, looking out beyond the walls, a +squat and stunted pyramid (the burial-place of Caius Cestius) +makes an opaque triangle in the moonlight. But, to an +English traveller, it serves to mark the grave of Shelley too, +whose ashes lie beneath a little garden near it. Nearer +still, almost within its shadow, lie the bones of Keats, +‘whose name is writ in water,’ that shines brightly +in the landscape of a calm Italian night.</p> +<p>The Holy Week in Rome is supposed to offer great attractions +to all visitors; but, saving for the sights of Easter Sunday, I +would counsel those who go to Rome for its own interest, to avoid +it at that time. The ceremonies, in general, are of the +most tedious and wearisome kind; the heat and crowd at every one +of them, painfully oppressive; the noise, hubbub, and confusion, +quite distracting. We abandoned the pursuit of these shows, +very early in the proceedings, and betook ourselves to the Ruins +again. But, we plunged into the crowd for a share of the +best of the sights; and what we saw, I will describe to you.</p> +<p>At the Sistine chapel, on the Wednesday, we saw very little, +for by the time we reached it (though we were early) the +besieging crowd had filled it to the door, and overflowed into +the adjoining hall, where they were struggling, and squeezing, +and mutually expostulating, and making great rushes every time a +lady was brought out faint, as if at least fifty people could be +accommodated in her vacant standing-room. Hanging in the +doorway of the chapel, was a heavy curtain, and this curtain, +some twenty people nearest to it, in their anxiety to hear the +chaunting of the Miserere, were continually plucking at, in +opposition to each other, that it might not fall down and stifle +the sound of the voices. The consequence was, that it +occasioned the most extraordinary confusion, and seemed to wind +itself about the unwary, like a Serpent. Now, a lady was +wrapped up in it, and couldn’t be unwound. Now, the +voice of a stifling gentleman was heard inside it, beseeching to +be let out. Now, two muffled arms, no man could say of +which sex, struggled in it as in a sack. Now, it was +carried by a rush, bodily overhead into the chapel, like an +awning. Now, it came out the other way, and blinded one of +the Pope’s Swiss Guard, who had arrived, that moment, to +set things to rights.</p> +<p>Being seated at a little distance, among two or three of the +Pope’s gentlemen, who were very weary and counting the +minutes—as perhaps his Holiness was too—we had better +opportunities of observing this eccentric entertainment, than of +hearing the Miserere. Sometimes, there was a swell of +mournful voices that sounded very pathetic and sad, and died +away, into a low strain again; but that was all we heard.</p> +<p>At another time, there was the Exhibition of Relics in St. +Peter’s, which took place at between six and seven +o’clock in the evening, and was striking from the cathedral +being dark and gloomy, and having a great many people in +it. The place into which the relics were brought, one by +one, by a party of three priests, was a high balcony near the +chief altar. This was the only lighted part of the +church. There are always a hundred and twelve lamps burning +near the altar, and there were two tall tapers, besides, near the +black statue of St. Peter; but these were nothing in such an +immense edifice. The gloom, and the general upturning of +faces to the balcony, and the prostration of true believers on +the pavement, as shining objects, like pictures or +looking-glasses, were brought out and shown, had something +effective in it, despite the very preposterous manner in which +they were held up for the general edification, and the great +elevation at which they were displayed; which one would think +rather calculated to diminish the comfort derivable from a full +conviction of their being genuine.</p> +<p>On the Thursday, we went to see the Pope convey the Sacrament +from the Sistine chapel, to deposit it in the Capella Paolina, +another chapel in the Vatican;—a ceremony emblematical of +the entombment of the Saviour before His Resurrection. We +waited in a great gallery with a great crowd of people +(three-fourths of them English) for an hour or so, while they +were chaunting the Miserere, in the Sistine chapel again. +Both chapels opened out of the gallery; and the general attention +was concentrated on the occasional opening and shutting of the +door of the one for which the Pope was ultimately bound. +None of these openings disclosed anything more tremendous than a +man on a ladder, lighting a great quantity of candles; but at +each and every opening, there was a terrific rush made at this +ladder and this man, something like (I should think) a charge of +the heavy British cavalry at Waterloo. The man was never +brought down, however, nor the ladder; for it performed the +strangest antics in the world among the crowd—where it was +carried by the man, when the candles were all lighted; and +finally it was stuck up against the gallery wall, in a very +disorderly manner, just before the opening of the other chapel, +and the commencement of a new chaunt, announced the approach of +his Holiness. At this crisis, the soldiers of the guard, +who had been poking the crowd into all sorts of shapes, formed +down the gallery: and the procession came up, between the two +lines they made.</p> +<p>There were a few choristers, and then a great many priests, +walking two and two, and carrying—the good-looking priests +at least—their lighted tapers, so as to throw the light +with a good effect upon their faces: for the room was +darkened. Those who were not handsome, or who had not long +beards, carried <i>their</i> tapers anyhow, and abandoned +themselves to spiritual contemplation. Meanwhile, the +chaunting was very monotonous and dreary. The procession +passed on, slowly, into the chapel, and the drone of voices went +on, and came on, with it, until the Pope himself appeared, +walking under a white satin canopy, and bearing the covered +Sacrament in both hands; cardinals and canons clustered round +him, making a brilliant show. The soldiers of the guard +knelt down as he passed; all the bystanders bowed; and so he +passed on into the chapel: the white satin canopy being removed +from over him at the door, and a white satin parasol hoisted over +his poor old head, in place of it. A few more couples +brought up the rear, and passed into the chapel also. Then, +the chapel door was shut; and it was all over; and everybody +hurried off headlong, as for life or death, to see something +else, and say it wasn’t worth the trouble.</p> +<p>I think the most popular and most crowded sight (excepting +those of Easter Sunday and Monday, which are open to all classes +of people) was the Pope washing the feet of Thirteen men, +representing the twelve apostles, and Judas Iscariot. The +place in which this pious office is performed, is one of the +chapels of St. Peter’s, which is gaily decorated for the +occasion; the thirteen sitting, ‘all of a row,’ on a +very high bench, and looking particularly uncomfortable, with the +eyes of Heaven knows how many English, French, Americans, Swiss, +Germans, Russians, Swedes, Norwegians, and other foreigners, +nailed to their faces all the time. They are robed in +white; and on their heads they wear a stiff white cap, like a +large English porter-pot, without a handle. Each carries in +his hand, a nosegay, of the size of a fine cauliflower; and two +of them, on this occasion, wore spectacles; which, remembering +the characters they sustained, I thought a droll appendage to the +costume. There was a great eye to character. St. John +was represented by a good-looking young man. St. Peter, by +a grave-looking old gentleman, with a flowing brown beard; and +Judas Iscariot by such an enormous hypocrite (I could not make +out, though, whether the expression of his face was real or +assumed) that if he had acted the part to the death and had gone +away and hanged himself, he would have left nothing to be +desired.</p> +<p>As the two large boxes, appropriated to ladies at this sight, +were full to the throat, and getting near was hopeless, we posted +off, along with a great crowd, to be in time at the Table, where +the Pope, in person, waits on these Thirteen; and after a +prodigious struggle at the Vatican staircase, and several +personal conflicts with the Swiss guard, the whole crowd swept +into the room. It was a long gallery hung with drapery of +white and red, with another great box for ladies (who are obliged +to dress in black at these ceremonies, and to wear black veils), +a royal box for the King of Naples and his party; and the table +itself, which, set out like a ball supper, and ornamented with +golden figures of the real apostles, was arranged on an elevated +platform on one side of the gallery. The counterfeit +apostles’ knives and forks were laid out on that side of +the table which was nearest to the wall, so that they might be +stared at again, without let or hindrance.</p> +<p>The body of the room was full of male strangers; the crowd +immense; the heat very great; and the pressure sometimes +frightful. It was at its height, when the stream came +pouring in, from the feet-washing; and then there were such +shrieks and outcries, that a party of Piedmontese dragoons went +to the rescue of the Swiss guard, and helped them to calm the +tumult.</p> +<p>The ladies were particularly ferocious, in their struggles for +places. One lady of my acquaintance was seized round the +waist, in the ladies’ box, by a strong matron, and hoisted +out of her place; and there was another lady (in a back row in +the same box) who improved her position by sticking a large pin +into the ladies before her.</p> +<p>The gentlemen about me were remarkably anxious to see what was +on the table; and one Englishman seemed to have embarked the +whole energy of his nature in the determination to discover +whether there was any mustard. ‘By Jupiter +there’s vinegar!’ I heard him say to his friend, +after he had stood on tiptoe an immense time, and had been +crushed and beaten on all sides. ‘And there’s +oil! I saw them distinctly, in cruets! Can any +gentleman, in front there, see mustard on the table? Sir, +will you oblige me! <i>Do</i> you see a +Mustard-Pot?’</p> +<p>The apostles and Judas appearing on the platform, after much +expectation, were marshalled, in line, in front of the table, +with Peter at the top; and a good long stare was taken at them by +the company, while twelve of them took a long smell at their +nosegays, and Judas—moving his lips very +obtrusively—engaged in inward prayer. Then, the Pope, +clad in a scarlet robe, and wearing on his head a skull-cap of +white satin, appeared in the midst of a crowd of Cardinals and +other dignitaries, and took in his hand a little golden ewer, +from which he poured a little water over one of Peter’s +hands, while one attendant held a golden basin; a second, a fine +cloth; a third, Peter’s nosegay, which was taken from him +during the operation. This his Holiness performed, with +considerable expedition, on every man in the line (Judas, I +observed, to be particularly overcome by his condescension); and +then the whole Thirteen sat down to dinner. Grace said by +the Pope. Peter in the chair.</p> +<p>There was white wine, and red wine: and the dinner looked very +good. The courses appeared in portions, one for each +apostle: and these being presented to the Pope, by Cardinals upon +their knees, were by him handed to the Thirteen. The manner +in which Judas grew more white-livered over his victuals, and +languished, with his head on one side, as if he had no appetite, +defies all description. Peter was a good, sound, old man, +and went in, as the saying is, ‘to win;’ eating +everything that was given him (he got the best: being first in +the row) and saying nothing to anybody. The dishes appeared +to be chiefly composed of fish and vegetables. The Pope +helped the Thirteen to wine also; and, during the whole dinner, +somebody read something aloud, out of a large book—the +Bible, I presume—which nobody could hear, and to which +nobody paid the least attention. The Cardinals, and other +attendants, smiled to each other, from time to time, as if the +thing were a great farce; and if they thought so, there is little +doubt they were perfectly right. His Holiness did what he +had to do, as a sensible man gets through a troublesome ceremony, +and seemed very glad when it was all over.</p> +<p>The Pilgrims’ Suppers: where lords and ladies waited on +the Pilgrims, in token of humility, and dried their feet when +they had been well washed by deputy: were very attractive. +But, of all the many spectacles of dangerous reliance on outward +observances, in themselves mere empty forms, none struck me half +so much as the Scala Santa, or Holy Staircase, which I saw +several times, but to the greatest advantage, or disadvantage, on +Good Friday.</p> +<p>This holy staircase is composed of eight-and-twenty steps, +said to have belonged to Pontius Pilate’s house and to be +the identical stair on which Our Saviour trod, in coming down +from the judgment-seat. Pilgrims ascend it, only on their +knees. It is steep; and, at the summit, is a chapel, +reported to be full of relics; into which they peep through some +iron bars, and then come down again, by one of two side +staircases, which are not sacred, and may be walked on.</p> +<p>On Good Friday, there were, on a moderate computation, a +hundred people, slowly shuffling up these stairs, on their knees, +at one time; while others, who were going up, or had come +down—and a few who had done both, and were going up again +for the second time—stood loitering in the porch below, +where an old gentleman in a sort of watch-box, rattled a tin +canister, with a slit in the top, incessantly, to remind them +that he took the money. The majority were country-people, +male and female. There were four or five Jesuit priests, +however, and some half-dozen well-dressed women. A whole +school of boys, twenty at least, were about half-way +up—evidently enjoying it very much. They were all +wedged together, pretty closely; but the rest of the company gave +the boys as wide a berth as possible, in consequence of their +betraying some recklessness in the management of their boots.</p> +<p>I never, in my life, saw anything at once so ridiculous, and +so unpleasant, as this sight—ridiculous in the absurd +incidents inseparable from it; and unpleasant in its senseless +and unmeaning degradation. There are two steps to begin +with, and then a rather broad landing. The more rigid +climbers went along this landing on their knees, as well as up +the stairs; and the figures they cut, in their shuffling progress +over the level surface, no description can paint. Then, to +see them watch their opportunity from the porch, and cut in where +there was a place next the wall! And to see one man with an +umbrella (brought on purpose, for it was a fine day) hoisting +himself, unlawfully, from stair to stair! And to observe a +demure lady of fifty-five or so, looking back, every now and +then, to assure herself that her legs were properly disposed!</p> +<p>There were such odd differences in the speed of different +people, too. Some got on as if they were doing a match +against time; others stopped to say a prayer on every step. +This man touched every stair with his forehead, and kissed it; +that man scratched his head all the way. The boys got on +brilliantly, and were up and down again before the old lady had +accomplished her half-dozen stairs. But most of the +penitents came down, very sprightly and fresh, as having done a +real good substantial deed which it would take a good deal of sin +to counterbalance; and the old gentleman in the watch-box was +down upon them with his canister while they were in this humour, +I promise you.</p> +<p>As if such a progress were not in its nature inevitably droll +enough, there lay, on the top of the stairs, a wooden figure on a +crucifix, resting on a sort of great iron saucer: so rickety and +unsteady, that whenever an enthusiastic person kissed the figure, +with more than usual devotion, or threw a coin into the saucer, +with more than common readiness (for it served in this respect as +a second or supplementary canister), it gave a great leap and +rattle, and nearly shook the attendant lamp out: horribly +frightening the people further down, and throwing the guilty +party into unspeakable embarrassment.</p> +<p>On Easter Sunday, as well as on the preceding Thursday, the +Pope bestows his benediction on the people, from the balcony in +front of St. Peter’s. This Easter Sunday was a day so +bright and blue: so cloudless, balmy, wonderfully bright: that +all the previous bad weather vanished from the recollection in a +moment. I had seen the Thursday’s Benediction +dropping damply on some hundreds of umbrellas, but there was not +a sparkle then, in all the hundred fountains of Rome—such +fountains as they are!—and on this Sunday morning they were +running diamonds. The miles of miserable streets through +which we drove (compelled to a certain course by the Pope’s +dragoons: the Roman police on such occasions) were so full of +colour, that nothing in them was capable of wearing a faded +aspect. The common people came out in their gayest dresses; +the richer people in their smartest vehicles; Cardinals rattled +to the church of the Poor Fishermen in their state carriages; +shabby magnificence flaunted its thread-bare liveries and +tarnished cocked hats, in the sun; and every coach in Rome was +put in requisition for the Great Piazza of St. Peter’s.</p> +<p>One hundred and fifty thousand people were there at +least! Yet there was ample room. How many carriages +were there, I don’t know; yet there was room for them too, +and to spare. The great steps of the church were densely +crowded. There were many of the Contadini, from Albano (who +delight in red), in that part of the square, and the mingling of +bright colours in the crowd was beautiful. Below the steps +the troops were ranged. In the magnificent proportions of +the place they looked like a bed of flowers. Sulky Romans, +lively peasants from the neighbouring country, groups of pilgrims +from distant parts of Italy, sight-seeing foreigners of all +nations, made a murmur in the clear air, like so many insects; +and high above them all, plashing and bubbling, and making +rainbow colours in the light, the two delicious fountains welled +and tumbled bountifully.</p> +<p>A kind of bright carpet was hung over the front of the +balcony; and the sides of the great window were bedecked with +crimson drapery. An awning was stretched, too, over the +top, to screen the old man from the hot rays of the sun. As +noon approached, all eyes were turned up to this window. In +due time, the chair was seen approaching to the front, with the +gigantic fans of peacock’s feathers, close behind. +The doll within it (for the balcony is very high) then rose up, +and stretched out its tiny arms, while all the male spectators in +the square uncovered, and some, but not by any means the greater +part, kneeled down. The guns upon the ramparts of the +Castle of St. Angelo proclaimed, next moment, that the +benediction was given; drums beat; trumpets sounded; arms +clashed; and the great mass below, suddenly breaking into smaller +heaps, and scattering here and there in rills, was stirred like +parti-coloured sand.</p> +<p>What a bright noon it was, as we rode away! The Tiber +was no longer yellow, but blue. There was a blush on the +old bridges, that made them fresh and hale again. The +Pantheon, with its majestic front, all seamed and furrowed like +an old face, had summer light upon its battered walls. +Every squalid and desolate hut in the Eternal City (bear witness +every grim old palace, to the filth and misery of the plebeian +neighbour that elbows it, as certain as Time has laid its grip on +its patrician head!) was fresh and new with some ray of the +sun. The very prison in the crowded street, a whirl of +carriages and people, had some stray sense of the day, dropping +through its chinks and crevices: and dismal prisoners who could +not wind their faces round the barricading of the blocked-up +windows, stretched out their hands, and clinging to the rusty +bars, turned <i>them</i> towards the overflowing street: as if it +were a cheerful fire, and could be shared in, that way.</p> +<p>But, when the night came on, without a cloud to dim the full +moon, what a sight it was to see the Great Square full once more, +and the whole church, from the cross to the ground, lighted with +innumerable lanterns, tracing out the architecture, and winking +and shining all round the colonnade of the piazza! And what +a sense of exultation, joy, delight, it was, when the great bell +struck half-past seven—on the instant—to behold one +bright red mass of fire, soar gallantly from the top of the +cupola to the extremest summit of the cross, and the moment it +leaped into its place, become the signal of a bursting out of +countless lights, as great, and red, and blazing as itself, from +every part of the gigantic church; so that every cornice, +capital, and smallest ornament of stone, expressed itself in +fire: and the black, solid groundwork of the enormous dome seemed +to grow transparent as an egg-shell!</p> +<p>A train of gunpowder, an electric chain—nothing could be +fired, more suddenly and swiftly, than this second illumination; +and when we had got away, and gone upon a distant height, and +looked towards it two hours afterwards, there it still stood, +shining and glittering in the calm night like a jewel! Not +a line of its proportions wanting; not an angle blunted; not an +atom of its radiance lost.</p> +<p>The next night—Easter Monday—there was a great +display of fireworks from the Castle of St. Angelo. We +hired a room in an opposite house, and made our way, to our +places, in good time, through a dense mob of people choking up +the square in front, and all the avenues leading to it; and so +loading the bridge by which the castle is approached, that it +seemed ready to sink into the rapid Tiber below. There are +statues on this bridge (execrable works), and, among them, great +vessels full of burning tow were placed: glaring strangely on the +faces of the crowd, and not less strangely on the stone +counterfeits above them.</p> +<p>The show began with a tremendous discharge of cannon; and +then, for twenty minutes or half an hour, the whole castle was +one incessant sheet of fire, and labyrinth of blazing wheels of +every colour, size, and speed: while rockets streamed into the +sky, not by ones or twos, or scores, but hundreds at a +time. The concluding burst—the Girandola—was +like the blowing up into the air of the whole massive castle, +without smoke or dust.</p> +<p>In half an hour afterwards, the immense concourse had +dispersed; the moon was looking calmly down upon her wrinkled +image in the river; and half-a-dozen men and boys, with bits of +lighted candle in their hands: moving here and there, in search +of anything worth having, that might have been dropped in the +press: had the whole scene to themselves.</p> +<p>By way of contrast we rode out into old ruined Rome, after all +this firing and booming, to take our leave of the Coliseum. +I had seen it by moonlight before (I could never get through a +day without going back to it), but its tremendous solitude that +night is past all telling. The ghostly pillars in the +Forum; the Triumphal Arches of Old Emperors; those enormous +masses of ruins which were once their palaces; the grass-grown +mounds that mark the graves of ruined temples; the stones of the +Via Sacra, smooth with the tread of feet in ancient Rome; even +these were dimmed, in their transcendent melancholy, by the dark +ghost of its bloody holidays, erect and grim; haunting the old +scene; despoiled by pillaging Popes and fighting Princes, but not +laid; wringing wild hands of weed, and grass, and bramble; and +lamenting to the night in every gap and broken arch—the +shadow of its awful self, immovable!</p> +<p>As we lay down on the grass of the Campagna, next day, on our +way to Florence, hearing the larks sing, we saw that a little +wooden cross had been erected on the spot where the poor Pilgrim +Countess was murdered. So, we piled some loose stones about +it, as the beginning of a mound to her memory, and wondered if we +should ever rest there again, and look back at Rome.</p> +<h2><a name="page345"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 345</span>A +RAPID DIORAMA</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> are bound for Naples! And +we cross the threshold of the Eternal City at yonder gate, the +Gate of San Giovanni Laterano, where the two last objects that +attract the notice of a departing visitor, and the two first +objects that attract the notice of an arriving one, are a proud +church and a decaying ruin—good emblems of Rome.</p> +<p>Our way lies over the Campagna, which looks more solemn on a +bright blue day like this, than beneath a darker sky; the great +extent of ruin being plainer to the eye: and the sunshine through +the arches of the broken aqueducts, showing other broken arches +shining through them in the melancholy distance. When we +have traversed it, and look back from Albano, its dark, +undulating surface lies below us like a stagnant lake, or like a +broad, dull Lethe flowing round the walls of Rome, and separating +it from all the world! How often have the Legions, in +triumphant march, gone glittering across that purple waste, so +silent and unpeopled now! How often has the train of +captives looked, with sinking hearts, upon the distant city, and +beheld its population pouring out, to hail the return of their +conqueror! What riot, sensuality and murder, have run mad +in the vast palaces now heaps of brick and shattered +marble! What glare of fires, and roar of popular tumult, +and wail of pestilence and famine, have come sweeping over the +wild plain where nothing is now heard but the wind, and where the +solitary lizards gambol unmolested in the sun!</p> +<p>The train of wine-carts going into Rome, each driven by a +shaggy peasant reclining beneath a little gipsy-fashioned canopy +of sheep-skin, is ended now, and we go toiling up into a higher +country where there are trees. The next day brings us on +the Pontine Marshes, wearily flat and lonesome, and overgrown +with brushwood, and swamped with water, but with a fine road made +across them, shaded by a long, long avenue. Here and there, +we pass a solitary guard-house; here and there a hovel, deserted, +and walled up. Some herdsmen loiter on the banks of the +stream beside the road, and sometimes a flat-bottomed boat, towed +by a man, comes rippling idly along it. A horseman passes +occasionally, carrying a long gun cross-wise on the saddle before +him, and attended by fierce dogs; but there is nothing else astir +save the wind and the shadows, until we come in sight of +Terracina.</p> +<p>How blue and bright the sea, rolling below the windows of the +inn so famous in robber stories! How picturesque the great +crags and points of rock overhanging to-morrow’s narrow +road, where galley-slaves are working in the quarries above, and +the sentinels who guard them lounge on the sea-shore! All +night there is the murmur of the sea beneath the stars; and, in +the morning, just at daybreak, the prospect suddenly becoming +expanded, as if by a miracle, reveals—in the far distance, +across the sea there!—Naples with its islands, and Vesuvius +spouting fire! Within a quarter of an hour, the whole is +gone as if it were a vision in the clouds, and there is nothing +but the sea and sky.</p> +<p>The Neapolitan frontier crossed, after two hours’ +travelling; and the hungriest of soldiers and custom-house +officers with difficulty appeased; we enter, by a gateless +portal, into the first Neapolitan town—Fondi. Take +note of Fondi, in the name of all that is wretched and +beggarly.</p> +<p>A filthy channel of mud and refuse meanders down the centre of +the miserable streets, fed by obscene rivulets that trickle from +the abject houses. There is not a door, a window, or a +shutter; not a roof, a wall, a post, or a pillar, in all Fondi, +but is decayed, and crazy, and rotting away. The wretched +history of the town, with all its sieges and pillages by +Barbarossa and the rest, might have been acted last year. +How the gaunt dogs that sneak about the miserable streets, come +to be alive, and undevoured by the people, is one of the enigmas +of the world.</p> +<p>A hollow-cheeked and scowling people they are! All +beggars; but that’s nothing. Look at them as they +gather round. Some, are too indolent to come down-stairs, +or are too wisely mistrustful of the stairs, perhaps, to venture: +so stretch out their lean hands from upper windows, and howl; +others, come flocking about us, fighting and jostling one +another, and demanding, incessantly, charity for the love of God, +charity for the love of the Blessed Virgin, charity for the love +of all the Saints. A group of miserable children, almost +naked, screaming forth the same petition, discover that they can +see themselves reflected in the varnish of the carriage, and +begin to dance and make grimaces, that they may have the pleasure +of seeing their antics repeated in this mirror. A crippled +idiot, in the act of striking one of them who drowns his +clamorous demand for charity, observes his angry counterpart in +the panel, stops short, and thrusting out his tongue, begins to +wag his head and chatter. The shrill cry raised at this, +awakens half-a-dozen wild creatures wrapped in frowsy brown +cloaks, who are lying on the church-steps with pots and pans for +sale. These, scrambling up, approach, and beg +defiantly. ‘I am hungry. Give me +something. Listen to me, Signor. I am +hungry!’ Then, a ghastly old woman, fearful of being +too late, comes hobbling down the street, stretching out one +hand, and scratching herself all the way with the other, and +screaming, long before she can be heard, ‘Charity, +charity! I’ll go and pray for you directly, beautiful +lady, if you’ll give me charity!’ Lastly, the +members of a brotherhood for burying the dead: hideously masked, +and attired in shabby black robes, white at the skirts, with the +splashes of many muddy winters: escorted by a dirty priest, and a +congenial cross-bearer: come hurrying past. Surrounded by +this motley concourse, we move out of Fondi: bad bright eyes +glaring at us, out of the darkness of every crazy tenement, like +glistening fragments of its filth and putrefaction.</p> +<p>A noble mountain-pass, with the ruins of a fort on a strong +eminence, traditionally called the Fort of Fra Diavolo; the old +town of Itrí, like a device in pastry, built up, almost +perpendicularly, on a hill, and approached by long steep flights +of steps; beautiful Mola di Gaëta, whose wines, like those +of Albano, have degenerated since the days of Horace, or his +taste for wine was bad: which is not likely of one who enjoyed it +so much, and extolled it so well; another night upon the road at +St. Agatha; a rest next day at Capua, which is picturesque, but +hardly so seductive to a traveller now, as the soldiers of +Prætorian Rome were wont to find the ancient city of that +name; a flat road among vines festooned and looped from tree to +tree; and Mount Vesuvius close at hand at last!—its cone +and summit whitened with snow; and its smoke hanging over it, in +the heavy atmosphere of the day, like a dense cloud. So we +go, rattling down hill, into Naples.</p> +<p>A funeral is coming up the street, towards us. The body, +on an open bier, borne on a kind of palanquin, covered with a gay +cloth of crimson and gold. The mourners, in white gowns and +masks. If there be death abroad, life is well represented +too, for all Naples would seem to be out of doors, and tearing to +and fro in carriages. Some of these, the common +Vetturíno vehicles, are drawn by three horses abreast, +decked with smart trappings and great abundance of brazen +ornament, and always going very fast. Not that their loads +are light; for the smallest of them has at least six people +inside, four in front, four or five more hanging on behind, and +two or three more, in a net or bag below the axle-tree, where +they lie half-suffocated with mud and dust. Exhibitors of +Punch, buffo singers with guitars, reciters of poetry, reciters +of stories, a row of cheap exhibitions with clowns and showmen, +drums, and trumpets, painted cloths representing the wonders +within, and admiring crowds assembled without, assist the whirl +and bustle. Ragged lazzaroni lie asleep in doorways, +archways, and kennels; the gentry, gaily dressed, are dashing up +and down in carriages on the Chiaji, or walking in the Public +Gardens; and quiet letter-writers, perched behind their little +desks and inkstands under the Portico of the Great Theatre of San +Carlo, in the public street, are waiting for clients.</p> +<p>Here is a galley-slave in chains, who wants a letter written +to a friend. He approaches a clerkly-looking man, sitting +under the corner arch, and makes his bargain. He has +obtained permission of the sentinel who guards him: who stands +near, leaning against the wall and cracking nuts. The +galley-slave dictates in the ear of the letter-writer, what he +desires to say; and as he can’t read writing, looks +intently in his face, to read there whether he sets down +faithfully what he is told. After a time, the galley-slave +becomes discursive—incoherent. The secretary pauses +and rubs his chin. The galley-slave is voluble and +energetic. The secretary, at length, catches the idea, and +with the air of a man who knows how to word it, sets it down; +stopping, now and then, to glance back at his text +admiringly. The galley-slave is silent. The soldier +stoically cracks his nuts. Is there anything more to say? +inquires the letter-writer. No more. Then listen, +friend of mine. He reads it through. The galley-slave +is quite enchanted. It is folded, and addressed, and given +to him, and he pays the fee. The secretary falls back +indolently in his chair, and takes a book. The galley-slave +gathers up an empty sack. The sentinel throws away a +handful of nut-shells, shoulders his musket, and away they go +together.</p> +<p>Why do the beggars rap their chins constantly, with their +right hands, when you look at them? Everything is done in +pantomime in Naples, and that is the conventional sign for +hunger. A man who is quarrelling with another, yonder, lays +the palm of his right hand on the back of his left, and shakes +the two thumbs—expressive of a donkey’s +ears—whereat his adversary is goaded to desperation. +Two people bargaining for fish, the buyer empties an imaginary +waistcoat pocket when he is told the price, and walks away +without a word: having thoroughly conveyed to the seller that he +considers it too dear. Two people in carriages, meeting, +one touches his lips, twice or thrice, holding up the five +fingers of his right hand, and gives a horizontal cut in the air +with the palm. The other nods briskly, and goes his +way. He has been invited to a friendly dinner at half-past +five o’clock, and will certainly come.</p> +<p>All over Italy, a peculiar shake of the right hand from the +wrist, with the forefinger stretched out, expresses a +negative—the only negative beggars will ever +understand. But, in Naples, those five fingers are a +copious language.</p> +<p>All this, and every other kind of out-door life and stir, and +macaroni-eating at sunset, and flower-selling all day long, and +begging and stealing everywhere and at all hours, you see upon +the bright sea-shore, where the waves of the bay sparkle +merrily. But, lovers and hunters of the picturesque, let us +not keep too studiously out of view the miserable depravity, +degradation, and wretchedness, with which this gay Neapolitan +life is inseparably associated! It is not well to find +Saint Giles’s so repulsive, and the Porta Capuana so +attractive. A pair of naked legs and a ragged red scarf, do +not make <i>all</i> the difference between what is interesting +and what is coarse and odious? Painting and poetising for +ever, if you will, the beauties of this most beautiful and lovely +spot of earth, let us, as our duty, try to associate a new +picturesque with some faint recognition of man’s destiny +and capabilities; more hopeful, I believe, among the ice and snow +of the North Pole, than in the sun and bloom of Naples.</p> +<p>Capri—once made odious by the deified beast +Tiberius—Ischia, Procida, and the thousand distant beauties +of the Bay, lie in the blue sea yonder, changing in the mist and +sunshine twenty times a-day: now close at hand, now far off, now +unseen. The fairest country in the world, is spread about +us. Whether we turn towards the Miseno shore of the +splendid watery amphitheatre, and go by the Grotto of Posilipo to +the Grotto del Cane and away to Baiæ: or take the other +way, towards Vesuvius and Sorrento, it is one succession of +delights. In the last-named direction, where, over doors +and archways, there are countless little images of San Gennaro, +with his Canute’s hand stretched out, to check the fury of +the Burning Mountain, we are carried pleasantly, by a railroad on +the beautiful Sea Beach, past the town of Torre del Greco, built +upon the ashes of the former town destroyed by an eruption of +Vesuvius, within a hundred years; and past the flat-roofed +houses, granaries, and macaroni manufactories; to Castel-a-Mare, +with its ruined castle, now inhabited by fishermen, standing in +the sea upon a heap of rocks. Here, the railroad +terminates; but, hence we may ride on, by an unbroken succession +of enchanting bays, and beautiful scenery, sloping from the +highest summit of Saint Angelo, the highest neighbouring +mountain, down to the water’s edge—among vineyards, +olive-trees, gardens of oranges and lemons, orchards, heaped-up +rocks, green gorges in the hills—and by the bases of +snow-covered heights, and through small towns with handsome, +dark-haired women at the doors—and pass delicious summer +villas—to Sorrento, where the Poet Tasso drew his +inspiration from the beauty surrounding him. Returning, we +may climb the heights above Castel-a-Mare, and looking down among +the boughs and leaves, see the crisp water glistening in the sun; +and clusters of white houses in distant Naples, dwindling, in the +great extent of prospect, down to dice. The coming back to +the city, by the beach again, at sunset: with the glowing sea on +one side, and the darkening mountain, with its smoke and flame, +upon the other: is a sublime conclusion to the glory of the +day.</p> +<p>That church by the Porta Capuana—near the old +fisher-market in the dirtiest quarter of dirty Naples, where the +revolt of Masaniello began—is memorable for having been the +scene of one of his earliest proclamations to the people, and is +particularly remarkable for nothing else, unless it be its waxen +and bejewelled Saint in a glass case, with two odd hands; or the +enormous number of beggars who are constantly rapping their chins +there, like a battery of castanets. The cathedral with the +beautiful door, and the columns of African and Egyptian granite +that once ornamented the temple of Apollo, contains the famous +sacred blood of San Gennaro or Januarius: which is preserved in +two phials in a silver tabernacle, and miraculously liquefies +three times a-year, to the great admiration of the people. +At the same moment, the stone (distant some miles) where the +Saint suffered martyrdom, becomes faintly red. It is said +that the officiating priests turn faintly red also, sometimes, +when these miracles occur.</p> +<p>The old, old men who live in hovels at the entrance of these +ancient catacombs, and who, in their age and infirmity, seem +waiting here, to be buried themselves, are members of a curious +body, called the Royal Hospital, who are the official attendants +at funerals. Two of these old spectres totter away, with +lighted tapers, to show the caverns of death—as unconcerned +as if they were immortal. They were used as burying-places +for three hundred years; and, in one part, is a large pit full of +skulls and bones, said to be the sad remains of a great mortality +occasioned by a plague. In the rest there is nothing but +dust. They consist, chiefly, of great wide corridors and +labyrinths, hewn out of the rock. At the end of some of +these long passages, are unexpected glimpses of the daylight, +shining down from above. It looks as ghastly and as +strange; among the torches, and the dust, and the dark vaults: as +if it, too, were dead and buried.</p> +<p>The present burial-place lies out yonder, on a hill between +the city and Vesuvius. The old Campo Santo with its three +hundred and sixty-five pits, is only used for those who die in +hospitals, and prisons, and are unclaimed by their friends. +The graceful new cemetery, at no great distance from it, though +yet unfinished, has already many graves among its shrubs and +flowers, and airy colonnades. It might be reasonably +objected elsewhere, that some of the tombs are meretricious and +too fanciful; but the general brightness seems to justify it +here; and Mount Vesuvius, separated from them by a lovely slope +of ground, exalts and saddens the scene.</p> +<p>If it be solemn to behold from this new City of the Dead, with +its dark smoke hanging in the clear sky, how much more awful and +impressive is it, viewed from the ghostly ruins of Herculaneum +and Pompeii!</p> +<p>Stand at the bottom of the great market-place of Pompeii, and +look up the silent streets, through the ruined temples of Jupiter +and Isis, over the broken houses with their inmost sanctuaries +open to the day, away to Mount Vesuvius, bright and snowy in the +peaceful distance; and lose all count of time, and heed of other +things, in the strange and melancholy sensation of seeing the +Destroyed and the Destroyer making this quiet picture in the +sun. Then, ramble on, and see, at every turn, the little +familiar tokens of human habitation and every-day pursuits; the +chafing of the bucket-rope in the stone rim of the exhausted +well; the track of carriage-wheels in the pavement of the street; +the marks of drinking-vessels on the stone counter of the +wine-shop; the amphoræ in private cellars, stored away so +many hundred years ago, and undisturbed to this hour—all +rendering the solitude and deadly lonesomeness of the place, ten +thousand times more solemn, than if the volcano, in its fury, had +swept the city from the earth, and sunk it in the bottom of the +sea.</p> +<p>After it was shaken by the earthquake which preceded the +eruption, workmen were employed in shaping out, in stone, new +ornaments for temples and other buildings that had +suffered. Here lies their work, outside the city gate, as +if they would return to-morrow.</p> +<p>In the cellar of Diomede’s house, where certain +skeletons were found huddled together, close to the door, the +impression of their bodies on the ashes, hardened with the ashes, +and became stamped and fixed there, after they had shrunk, +inside, to scanty bones. So, in the theatre of Herculaneum, +a comic mask, floating on the stream when it was hot and liquid, +stamped its mimic features in it as it hardened into stone; and +now, it turns upon the stranger the fantastic look it turned upon +the audiences in that same theatre two thousand years ago.</p> +<p>Next to the wonder of going up and down the streets, and in +and out of the houses, and traversing the secret chambers of the +temples of a religion that has vanished from the earth, and +finding so many fresh traces of remote antiquity: as if the +course of Time had been stopped after this desolation, and there +had been no nights and days, months, years, and centuries, since: +nothing is more impressive and terrible than the many evidences +of the searching nature of the ashes, as bespeaking their +irresistible power, and the impossibility of escaping them. +In the wine-cellars, they forced their way into the earthen +vessels: displacing the wine and choking them, to the brim, with +dust. In the tombs, they forced the ashes of the dead from +the funeral urns, and rained new ruin even into them. The +mouths, and eyes, and skulls of all the skeletons, were stuffed +with this terrible hail. In Herculaneum, where the flood +was of a different and a heavier kind, it rolled in, like a +sea. Imagine a deluge of water turned to marble, at its +height—and that is what is called ‘the lava’ +here.</p> +<p>Some workmen were digging the gloomy well on the brink of +which we now stand, looking down, when they came on some of the +stone benches of the theatre—those steps (for such they +seem) at the bottom of the excavation—and found the buried +city of Herculaneum. Presently going down, with lighted +torches, we are perplexed by great walls of monstrous thickness, +rising up between the benches, shutting out the stage, obtruding +their shapeless forms in absurd places, confusing the whole plan, +and making it a disordered dream. We cannot, at first, +believe, or picture to ourselves, that <span +class="smcap">This</span> came rolling in, and drowned the city; +and that all that is not here, has been cut away, by the axe, +like solid stone. But this perceived and understood, the +horror and oppression of its presence are indescribable.</p> +<p>Many of the paintings on the walls in the roofless chambers of +both cities, or carefully removed to the museum at Naples, are as +fresh and plain, as if they had been executed yesterday. +Here are subjects of still life, as provisions, dead game, +bottles, glasses, and the like; familiar classical stories, or +mythological fables, always forcibly and plainly told; conceits +of cupids, quarrelling, sporting, working at trades; theatrical +rehearsals; poets reading their productions to their friends; +inscriptions chalked upon the walls; political squibs, +advertisements, rough drawings by schoolboys; everything to +people and restore the ancient cities, in the fancy of their +wondering visitor. Furniture, too, you see, of every +kind—lamps, tables, couches; vessels for eating, drinking, +and cooking; workmen’s tools, surgical instruments, tickets +for the theatre, pieces of money, personal ornaments, bunches of +keys found clenched in the grasp of skeletons, helmets of guards +and warriors; little household bells, yet musical with their old +domestic tones.</p> +<p>The least among these objects, lends its aid to swell the +interest of Vesuvius, and invest it with a perfect +fascination. The looking, from either ruined city, into the +neighbouring grounds overgrown with beautiful vines and luxuriant +trees; and remembering that house upon house, temple on temple, +building after building, and street after street, are still lying +underneath the roots of all the quiet cultivation, waiting to be +turned up to the light of day; is something so wonderful, so full +of mystery, so captivating to the imagination, that one would +think it would be paramount, and yield to nothing else. To +nothing but Vesuvius; but the mountain is the genius of the +scene. From every indication of the ruin it has worked, we +look, again, with an absorbing interest to where its smoke is +rising up into the sky. It is beyond us, as we thread the +ruined streets: above us, as we stand upon the ruined walls, we +follow it through every vista of broken columns, as we wander +through the empty court-yards of the houses; and through the +garlandings and interlacings of every wanton vine. Turning +away to Pæstum yonder, to see the awful structures built, +the least aged of them, hundreds of years before the birth of +Christ, and standing yet, erect in lonely majesty, upon the wild, +malaria-blighted plain—we watch Vesuvius as it disappears +from the prospect, and watch for it again, on our return, with +the same thrill of interest: as the doom and destiny of all this +beautiful country, biding its terrible time.</p> +<p>It is very warm in the sun, on this early spring-day, when we +return from Pæstum, but very cold in the shade: insomuch, +that although we may lunch, pleasantly, at noon, in the open air, +by the gate of Pompeii, the neighbouring rivulet supplies thick +ice for our wine. But, the sun is shining brightly; there +is not a cloud or speck of vapour in the whole blue sky, looking +down upon the bay of Naples; and the moon will be at the full +to-night. No matter that the snow and ice lie thick upon +the summit of Vesuvius, or that we have been on foot all day at +Pompeii, or that croakers maintain that strangers should not be +on the mountain by night, in such an unusual season. Let us +take advantage of the fine weather; make the best of our way to +Resina, the little village at the foot of the mountain; prepare +ourselves, as well as we can, on so short a notice, at the +guide’s house; ascend at once, and have sunset half-way up, +moonlight at the top, and midnight to come down in!</p> +<p>At four o’clock in the afternoon, there is a terrible +uproar in the little stable-yard of Signior Salvatore, the +recognised head-guide, with the gold band round his cap; and +thirty under-guides who are all scuffling and screaming at once, +are preparing half-a-dozen saddled ponies, three litters, and +some stout staves, for the journey. Every one of the +thirty, quarrels with the other twenty-nine, and frightens the +six ponies; and as much of the village as can possibly squeeze +itself into the little stable-yard, participates in the tumult, +and gets trodden on by the cattle.</p> +<p>After much violent skirmishing, and more noise than would +suffice for the storming of Naples, the procession starts. +The head-guide, who is liberally paid for all the attendants, +rides a little in advance of the party; the other thirty guides +proceed on foot. Eight go forward with the litters that are +to be used by-and-by; and the remaining two-and-twenty beg.</p> +<p>We ascend, gradually, by stony lanes like rough broad flights +of stairs, for some time. At length, we leave these, and +the vineyards on either side of them, and emerge upon a bleak +bare region where the lava lies confusedly, in enormous rusty +masses; as if the earth had been ploughed up by burning +thunderbolts. And now, we halt to see the sun set. +The change that falls upon the dreary region, and on the whole +mountain, as its red light fades, and the night comes +on—and the unutterable solemnity and dreariness that reign +around, who that has witnessed it, can ever forget!</p> +<p>It is dark, when after winding, for some time, over the broken +ground, we arrive at the foot of the cone: which is extremely +steep, and seems to rise, almost perpendicularly, from the spot +where we dismount. The only light is reflected from the +snow, deep, hard, and white, with which the cone is +covered. It is now intensely cold, and the air is +piercing. The thirty-one have brought no torches, knowing +that the moon will rise before we reach the top. Two of the +litters are devoted to the two ladies; the third, to a rather +heavy gentleman from Naples, whose hospitality and good-nature +have attached him to the expedition, and determined him to assist +in doing the honours of the mountain. The rather heavy +gentleman is carried by fifteen men; each of the ladies by +half-a-dozen. We who walk, make the best use of our staves; +and so the whole party begin to labour upward over the +snow,—as if they were toiling to the summit of an +antediluvian Twelfth-cake.</p> +<p>We are a long time toiling up; and the head-guide looks oddly +about him when one of the company—not an Italian, though an +habitué of the mountain for many years: whom we will call, +for our present purpose, Mr. Pickle of Portici—suggests +that, as it is freezing hard, and the usual footing of ashes is +covered by the snow and ice, it will surely be difficult to +descend. But the sight of the litters above, tilting up and +down, and jerking from this side to that, as the bearers +continually slip and tumble, diverts our attention; more +especially as the whole length of the rather heavy gentleman is, +at that moment, presented to us alarmingly foreshortened, with +his head downwards.</p> +<p>The rising of the moon soon afterwards, revives the flagging +spirits of the bearers. Stimulating each other with their +usual watchword, ‘Courage, friend! It is to eat +macaroni!’ they press on, gallantly, for the summit.</p> +<p>From tingeing the top of the snow above us, with a band of +light, and pouring it in a stream through the valley below, while +we have been ascending in the dark, the moon soon lights the +whole white mountain-side, and the broad sea down below, and tiny +Naples in the distance, and every village in the country +round. The whole prospect is in this lovely state, when we +come upon the platform on the mountain-top—the region of +Fire—an exhausted crater formed of great masses of gigantic +cinders, like blocks of stone from some tremendous waterfall, +burnt up; from every chink and crevice of which, hot, sulphurous +smoke is pouring out: while, from another conical-shaped hill, +the present crater, rising abruptly from this platform at the +end, great sheets of fire are streaming forth: reddening the +night with flame, blackening it with smoke, and spotting it with +red-hot stones and cinders, that fly up into the air like +feathers, and fall down like lead. What words can paint the +gloom and grandeur of this scene!</p> +<p>The broken ground; the smoke; the sense of suffocation from +the sulphur: the fear of falling down through the crevices in the +yawning ground; the stopping, every now and then, for somebody +who is missing in the dark (for the dense smoke now obscures the +moon); the intolerable noise of the thirty; and the hoarse +roaring of the mountain; make it a scene of such confusion, at +the same time, that we reel again. But, dragging the ladies +through it, and across another exhausted crater to the foot of +the present Volcano, we approach close to it on the windy side, +and then sit down among the hot ashes at its foot, and look up in +silence; faintly estimating the action that is going on within, +from its being full a hundred feet higher, at this minute, than +it was six weeks ago.</p> +<p>There is something in the fire and roar, that generates an +irresistible desire to get nearer to it. We cannot rest +long, without starting off, two of us, on our hands and knees, +accompanied by the head-guide, to climb to the brim of the +flaming crater, and try to look in. Meanwhile, the thirty +yell, as with one voice, that it is a dangerous proceeding, and +call to us to come back; frightening the rest of the party out of +their wits.</p> +<p>What with their noise, and what with the trembling of the thin +crust of ground, that seems about to open underneath our feet and +plunge us in the burning gulf below (which is the real danger, if +there be any); and what with the flashing of the fire in our +faces, and the shower of red-hot ashes that is raining down, and +the choking smoke and sulphur; we may well feel giddy and +irrational, like drunken men. But, we contrive to climb up +to the brim, and look down, for a moment, into the Hell of +boiling fire below. Then, we all three come rolling down; +blackened, and singed, and scorched, and hot, and giddy: and each +with his dress alight in half-a-dozen places.</p> +<p>You have read, a thousand times, that the usual way of +descending, is, by sliding down the ashes: which, forming a +gradually-increasing ledge below the feet, prevent too rapid a +descent. But, when we have crossed the two exhausted +craters on our way back and are come to this precipitous place, +there is (as Mr. Pickle has foretold) no vestige of ashes to be +seen; the whole being a smooth sheet of ice.</p> +<p>In this dilemma, ten or a dozen of the guides cautiously join +hands, and make a chain of men; of whom the foremost beat, as +well as they can, a rough track with their sticks, down which we +prepare to follow. The way being fearfully steep, and none +of the party: even of the thirty: being able to keep their feet +for six paces together, the ladies are taken out of their +litters, and placed, each between two careful persons; while +others of the thirty hold by their skirts, to prevent their +falling forward—a necessary precaution, tending to the +immediate and hopeless dilapidation of their apparel. The +rather heavy gentleman is abjured to leave his litter too, and be +escorted in a similar manner; but he resolves to be brought down +as he was brought up, on the principle that his fifteen bearers +are not likely to tumble all at once, and that he is safer so, +than trusting to his own legs.</p> +<p>In this order, we begin the descent: sometimes on foot, +sometimes shuffling on the ice: always proceeding much more +quietly and slowly, than on our upward way: and constantly +alarmed by the falling among us of somebody from behind, who +endangers the footing of the whole party, and clings +pertinaciously to anybody’s ankles. It is impossible +for the litter to be in advance, too, as the track has to be +made; and its appearance behind us, overhead—with some one +or other of the bearers always down, and the rather heavy +gentleman with his legs always in the air—is very +threatening and frightful. We have gone on thus, a very +little way, painfully and anxiously, but quite merrily, and +regarding it as a great success—and have all fallen several +times, and have all been stopped, somehow or other, as we were +sliding away—when Mr. Pickle of Portici, in the act of +remarking on these uncommon circumstances as quite beyond his +experience, stumbles, falls, disengages himself, with quick +presence of mind, from those about him, plunges away head +foremost, and rolls, over and over, down the whole surface of the +cone!</p> +<p>Sickening as it is to look, and be so powerless to help him, I +see him there, in the moonlight—I have had such a dream +often—skimming over the white ice, like a +cannon-ball. Almost at the same moment, there is a cry from +behind; and a man who has carried a light basket of spare cloaks +on his head, comes rolling past, at the same frightful speed, +closely followed by a boy. At this climax of the chapter of +accidents, the remaining eight-and-twenty vociferate to that +degree, that a pack of wolves would be music to them!</p> +<p>Giddy, and bloody, and a mere bundle of rags, is Pickle of +Portici when we reach the place where we dismounted, and where +the horses are waiting; but, thank God, sound in limb! And +never are we likely to be more glad to see a man alive and on his +feet, than to see him now—making light of it too, though +sorely bruised and in great pain. The boy is brought into +the Hermitage on the Mountain, while we are at supper, with his +head tied up; and the man is heard of, some hours +afterwards. He too is bruised and stunned, but has broken +no bones; the snow having, fortunately, covered all the larger +blocks of rock and stone, and rendered them harmless.</p> +<p>After a cheerful meal, and a good rest before a blazing fire, +we again take horse, and continue our descent to +Salvatore’s house—very slowly, by reason of our +bruised friend being hardly able to keep the saddle, or endure +the pain of motion. Though it is so late at night, or early +in the morning, all the people of the village are waiting about +the little stable-yard when we arrive, and looking up the road by +which we are expected. Our appearance is hailed with a +great clamour of tongues, and a general sensation for which in +our modesty we are somewhat at a loss to account, until, turning +into the yard, we find that one of a party of French gentlemen +who were on the mountain at the same time is lying on some straw +in the stable, with a broken limb: looking like Death, and +suffering great torture; and that we were confidently supposed to +have encountered some worse accident.</p> +<p>So ‘well returned, and Heaven be praised!’ as the +cheerful Vetturíno, who has borne us company all the way +from Pisa, says, with all his heart! And away with his +ready horses, into sleeping Naples!</p> +<p>It wakes again to Policinelli and pickpockets, buffo singers +and beggars, rags, puppets, flowers, brightness, dirt, and +universal degradation; airing its Harlequin suit in the sunshine, +next day and every day; singing, starving, dancing, gaming, on +the sea-shore; and leaving all labour to the burning mountain, +which is ever at its work.</p> +<p>Our English dilettanti would be very pathetic on the subject +of the national taste, if they could hear an Italian opera half +as badly sung in England as we may hear the Foscari performed, +to-night, in the splendid theatre of San Carlo. But, for +astonishing truth and spirit in seizing and embodying the real +life about it, the shabby little San Carlino Theatre—the +rickety house one story high, with a staring picture outside: +down among the drums and trumpets, and the tumblers, and the lady +conjurer—is without a rival anywhere.</p> +<p>There is one extraordinary feature in the real life of Naples, +at which we may take a glance before we go—the +Lotteries.</p> +<p>They prevail in most parts of Italy, but are particularly +obvious, in their effects and influences, here. They are +drawn every Saturday. They bring an immense revenue to the +Government; and diffuse a taste for gambling among the poorest of +the poor, which is very comfortable to the coffers of the State, +and very ruinous to themselves. The lowest stake is one +grain; less than a farthing. One hundred numbers—from +one to a hundred, inclusive—are put into a box. Five +are drawn. Those are the prizes. I buy three +numbers. If one of them come up, I win a small prize. +If two, some hundreds of times my stake. If three, three +thousand five hundred times my stake. I stake (or play as +they call it) what I can upon my numbers, and buy what numbers I +please. The amount I play, I pay at the lottery office, +where I purchase the ticket; and it is stated on the ticket +itself.</p> +<p>Every lottery office keeps a printed book, an Universal +Lottery Diviner, where every possible accident and circumstance +is provided for, and has a number against it. For instance, +let us take two carlini—about sevenpence. On our way +to the lottery office, we run against a black man. When we +get there, we say gravely, ‘The Diviner.’ It is +handed over the counter, as a serious matter of business. +We look at black man. Such a number. ‘Give us +that.’ We look at running against a person in the +street. ‘Give us that.’ We look at the +name of the street itself. ‘Give us +that.’ Now, we have our three numbers.</p> +<p>If the roof of the theatre of San Carlo were to fall in, so +many people would play upon the numbers attached to such an +accident in the Diviner, that the Government would soon close +those numbers, and decline to run the risk of losing any more +upon them. This often happens. Not long ago, when +there was a fire in the King’s Palace, there was such a +desperate run on fire, and king, and palace, that further stakes +on the numbers attached to those words in the Golden Book were +forbidden. Every accident or event, is supposed, by the +ignorant populace, to be a revelation to the beholder, or party +concerned, in connection with the lottery. Certain people +who have a talent for dreaming fortunately, are much sought +after; and there are some priests who are constantly favoured +with visions of the lucky numbers.</p> +<p>I heard of a horse running away with a man, and dashing him +down, dead, at the corner of a street. Pursuing the horse +with incredible speed, was another man, who ran so fast, that he +came up, immediately after the accident. He threw himself +upon his knees beside the unfortunate rider, and clasped his hand +with an expression of the wildest grief. ‘If you have +life,’ he said, ‘speak one word to me! If you +have one gasp of breath left, mention your age for Heaven’s +sake, that I may play that number in the lottery.’</p> +<p>It is four o’clock in the afternoon, and we may go to +see our lottery drawn. The ceremony takes place every +Saturday, in the Tribunale, or Court of Justice—this +singular, earthy-smelling room, or gallery, as mouldy as an old +cellar, and as damp as a dungeon. At the upper end is a +platform, with a large horse-shoe table upon it; and a President +and Council sitting round—all judges of the Law. The +man on the little stool behind the President, is the Capo +Lazzarone, a kind of tribune of the people, appointed on their +behalf to see that all is fairly conducted: attended by a few +personal friends. A ragged, swarthy fellow he is: with long +matted hair hanging down all over his face: and covered, from +head to foot, with most unquestionably genuine dirt. All +the body of the room is filled with the commonest of the +Neapolitan people: and between them and the platform, guarding +the steps leading to the latter, is a small body of soldiers.</p> +<p>There is some delay in the arrival of the necessary number of +judges; during which, the box, in which the numbers are being +placed, is a source of the deepest interest. When the box +is full, the boy who is to draw the numbers out of it becomes the +prominent feature of the proceedings. He is already dressed +for his part, in a tight brown Holland coat, with only one (the +left) sleeve to it, which leaves his right arm bared to the +shoulder, ready for plunging down into the mysterious chest.</p> +<p>During the hush and whisper that pervade the room, all eyes +are turned on this young minister of fortune. People begin +to inquire his age, with a view to the next lottery; and the +number of his brothers and sisters; and the age of his father and +mother; and whether he has any moles or pimples upon him; and +where, and how many; when the arrival of the last judge but one +(a little old man, universally dreaded as possessing the Evil +Eye) makes a slight diversion, and would occasion a greater one, +but that he is immediately deposed, as a source of interest, by +the officiating priest, who advances gravely to his place, +followed by a very dirty little boy, carrying his sacred +vestments, and a pot of Holy Water.</p> +<p>Here is the last judge come at last, and now he takes his +place at the horse-shoe table.</p> +<p>There is a murmur of irrepressible agitation. In the +midst of it, the priest puts his head into the sacred vestments, +and pulls the same over his shoulders. Then he says a +silent prayer; and dipping a brush into the pot of Holy Water, +sprinkles it over the box—and over the boy, and gives them +a double-barrelled blessing, which the box and the boy are both +hoisted on the table to receive. The boy remaining on the +table, the box is now carried round the front of the platform, by +an attendant, who holds it up and shakes it lustily all the time; +seeming to say, like the conjurer, ‘There is no deception, +ladies and gentlemen; keep your eyes upon me, if you +please!’</p> +<p>At last, the box is set before the boy; and the boy, first +holding up his naked arm and open hand, dives down into the hole +(it is made like a ballot-box) and pulls out a number, which is +rolled up, round something hard, like a bonbon. This he +hands to the judge next him, who unrolls a little bit, and hands +it to the President, next to whom he sits. The President +unrolls it, very slowly. The Capo Lazzarone leans over his +shoulder. The President holds it up, unrolled, to the Capo +Lazzarone. The Capo Lazzarone, looking at it eagerly, cries +out, in a shrill, loud voice, ‘Sessantadue!’ +(sixty-two), expressing the two upon his fingers, as he calls it +out. Alas! the Capo Lazzarone himself has not staked on +sixty-two. His face is very long, and his eyes roll +wildly.</p> +<p>As it happens to be a favourite number, however, it is pretty +well received, which is not always the case. They are all +drawn with the same ceremony, omitting the blessing. One +blessing is enough for the whole multiplication-table. The +only new incident in the proceedings, is the gradually deepening +intensity of the change in the Cape Lazzarone, who has, +evidently, speculated to the very utmost extent of his means; and +who, when he sees the last number, and finds that it is not one +of his, clasps his hands, and raises his eyes to the ceiling +before proclaiming it, as though remonstrating, in a secret +agony, with his patron saint, for having committed so gross a +breach of confidence. I hope the Capo Lazzarone may not +desert him for some other member of the Calendar, but he seems to +threaten it.</p> +<p>Where the winners may be, nobody knows. They certainly +are not present; the general disappointment filling one with pity +for the poor people. They look: when we stand aside, +observing them, in their passage through the court-yard down +below: as miserable as the prisoners in the gaol (it forms a part +of the building), who are peeping down upon them, from between +their bars; or, as the fragments of human heads which are still +dangling in chains outside, in memory of the good old times, when +their owners were strung up there, for the popular +edification.</p> +<p>Away from Naples in a glorious sunrise, by the road to Capua, +and then on a three days’ journey along by-roads, that we +may see, on the way, the monastery of Monte Cassino, which is +perched on the steep and lofty hill above the little town of San +Germano, and is lost on a misty morning in the clouds.</p> +<p>So much the better, for the deep sounding of its bell, which, +as we go winding up, on mules, towards the convent, is heard +mysteriously in the still air, while nothing is seen but the grey +mist, moving solemnly and slowly, like a funeral +procession. Behold, at length the shadowy pile of building +close before us: its grey walls and towers dimly seen, though so +near and so vast: and the raw vapour rolling through its +cloisters heavily.</p> +<p>There are two black shadows walking to and fro in the +quadrangle, near the statues of the Patron Saint and his sister; +and hopping on behind them, in and out of the old arches, is a +raven, croaking in answer to the bell, and uttering, at +intervals, the purest Tuscan. How like a Jesuit he +looks! There never was a sly and stealthy fellow so at home +as is this raven, standing now at the refectory door, with his +head on one side, and pretending to glance another way, while he +is scrutinizing the visitors keenly, and listening with fixed +attention. What a dull-headed monk the porter becomes in +comparison!</p> +<p>‘He speaks like us!’ says the porter: ‘quite +as plainly.’ Quite as plainly, Porter. Nothing +could be more expressive than his reception of the peasants who +are entering the gate with baskets and burdens. There is a +roll in his eye, and a chuckle in his throat, which should +qualify him to be chosen Superior of an Order of Ravens. He +knows all about it. ‘It’s all right,’ he +says. ‘We know what we know. Come along, good +people. Glad to see you!’ How was this +extraordinary structure ever built in such a situation, where the +labour of conveying the stone, and iron, and marble, so great a +height, must have been prodigious? ‘Caw!’ says +the raven, welcoming the peasants. How, being despoiled by +plunder, fire and earthquake, has it risen from its ruins, and +been again made what we now see it, with its church so sumptuous +and magnificent? ‘Caw!’ says the raven, +welcoming the peasants. These people have a miserable +appearance, and (as usual) are densely ignorant, and all beg, +while the monks are chaunting in the chapel. +‘Caw!’ says the raven, ‘Cuckoo!’</p> +<p>So we leave him, chuckling and rolling his eye at the convent +gate, and wind slowly down again through the cloud. At last +emerging from it, we come in sight of the village far below, and +the flat green country intersected by rivulets; which is pleasant +and fresh to see after the obscurity and haze of the +convent—no disrespect to the raven, or the holy friars.</p> +<p>Away we go again, by muddy roads, and through the most +shattered and tattered of villages, where there is not a whole +window among all the houses, or a whole garment among all the +peasants, or the least appearance of anything to eat, in any of +the wretched hucksters’ shops. The women wear a +bright red bodice laced before and behind, a white skirt, and the +Neapolitan head-dress of square folds of linen, primitively meant +to carry loads on. The men and children wear anything they +can get. The soldiers are as dirty and rapacious as the +dogs. The inns are such hobgoblin places, that they are +infinitely more attractive and amusing than the best hotels in +Paris. Here is one near Valmontone (that is Valmontone the +round, walled town on the mount opposite), which is approached by +a quagmire almost knee-deep. There is a wild colonnade +below, and a dark yard full of empty stables and lofts, and a +great long kitchen with a great long bench and a great long form, +where a party of travellers, with two priests among them, are +crowding round the fire while their supper is cooking. +Above stairs, is a rough brick gallery to sit in, with very +little windows with very small patches of knotty glass in them, +and all the doors that open from it (a dozen or two) off their +hinges, and a bare board on tressels for a table, at which thirty +people might dine easily, and a fireplace large enough in itself +for a breakfast-parlour, where, as the faggots blaze and crackle, +they illuminate the ugliest and grimmest of faces, drawn in +charcoal on the whitewashed chimney-sides by previous +travellers. There is a flaring country lamp on the table; +and, hovering about it, scratching her thick black hair +continually, a yellow dwarf of a woman, who stands on tiptoe to +arrange the hatchet knives, and takes a flying leap to look into +the water-jug. The beds in the adjoining rooms are of the +liveliest kind. There is not a solitary scrap of +looking-glass in the house, and the washing apparatus is +identical with the cooking utensils. But the yellow dwarf +sets on the table a good flask of excellent wine, holding a quart +at least; and produces, among half-a-dozen other dishes, +two-thirds of a roasted kid, smoking hot. She is as +good-humoured, too, as dirty, which is saying a great deal. +So here’s long life to her, in the flask of wine, and +prosperity to the establishment.</p> +<p>Rome gained and left behind, and with it the Pilgrims who are +now repairing to their own homes again—each with his +scallop shell and staff, and soliciting alms for the love of +God—we come, by a fair country, to the Falls of Terni, +where the whole Velino river dashes, headlong, from a rocky +height, amidst shining spray and rainbows. Perugia, +strongly fortified by art and nature, on a lofty eminence, rising +abruptly from the plain where purple mountains mingle with the +distant sky, is glowing, on its market-day, with radiant +colours. They set off its sombre but rich Gothic buildings +admirably. The pavement of its market-place is strewn with +country goods. All along the steep hill leading from the +town, under the town wall, there is a noisy fair of calves, +lambs, pigs, horses, mules, and oxen. Fowls, geese, and +turkeys, flutter vigorously among their very hoofs; and buyers, +sellers, and spectators, clustering everywhere, block up the road +as we come shouting down upon them.</p> +<p>Suddenly, there is a ringing sound among our horses. The +driver stops them. Sinking in his saddle, and casting up +his eyes to Heaven, he delivers this apostrophe, ‘Oh Jove +Omnipotent! here is a horse has lost his shoe!’</p> +<p>Notwithstanding the tremendous nature of this accident, and +the utterly forlorn look and gesture (impossible in any one but +an Italian Vetturíno) with which it is announced, it is +not long in being repaired by a mortal Farrier, by whose +assistance we reach Castiglione the same night, and Arezzo next +day. Mass is, of course, performing in its fine cathedral, +where the sun shines in among the clustered pillars, through rich +stained-glass windows: half revealing, half concealing the +kneeling figures on the pavement, and striking out paths of +spotted light in the long aisles.</p> +<p>But, how much beauty of another kind is here, when, on a fair +clear morning, we look, from the summit of a hill, on +Florence! See where it lies before us in a sun-lighted +valley, bright with the winding Arno, and shut in by swelling +hills; its domes, and towers, and palaces, rising from the rich +country in a glittering heap, and shining in the sun like +gold!</p> +<p>Magnificently stern and sombre are the streets of beautiful +Florence; and the strong old piles of building make such heaps of +shadow, on the ground and in the river, that there is another and +a different city of rich forms and fancies, always lying at our +feet. Prodigious palaces, constructed for defence, with +small distrustful windows heavily barred, and walls of great +thickness formed of huge masses of rough stone, frown, in their +old sulky state, on every street. In the midst of the +city—in the Piazza of the Grand Duke, adorned with +beautiful statues and the Fountain of Neptune—rises the +Palazzo Vecchio, with its enormous overhanging battlements, and +the Great Tower that watches over the whole town. In its +court-yard—worthy of the Castle of Otranto in its ponderous +gloom—is a massive staircase that the heaviest waggon and +the stoutest team of horses might be driven up. Within it, +is a Great Saloon, faded and tarnished in its stately +decorations, and mouldering by grains, but recording yet, in +pictures on its walls, the triumphs of the Medici and the wars of +the old Florentine people. The prison is hard by, in an +adjacent court-yard of the building—a foul and dismal +place, where some men are shut up close, in small cells like +ovens; and where others look through bars and beg; where some are +playing draughts, and some are talking to their friends, who +smoke, the while, to purify the air; and some are buying wine and +fruit of women-vendors; and all are squalid, dirty, and vile to +look at. ‘They are merry enough, Signore,’ says +the jailer. ‘They are all blood-stained here,’ +he adds, indicating, with his hand, three-fourths of the whole +building. Before the hour is out, an old man, eighty years +of age, quarrelling over a bargain with a young girl of +seventeen, stabs her dead, in the market-place full of bright +flowers; and is brought in prisoner, to swell the number.</p> +<p>Among the four old bridges that span the river, the Ponte +Vecchio—that bridge which is covered with the shops of +Jewellers and Goldsmiths—is a most enchanting feature in +the scene. The space of one house, in the centre, being +left open, the view beyond is shown as in a frame; and that +precious glimpse of sky, and water, and rich buildings, shining +so quietly among the huddled roofs and gables on the bridge, is +exquisite. Above it, the Gallery of the Grand Duke crosses +the river. It was built to connect the two Great Palaces by +a secret passage; and it takes its jealous course among the +streets and houses, with true despotism: going where it lists, +and spurning every obstacle away, before it.</p> +<p>The Grand Duke has a worthier secret passage through the +streets, in his black robe and hood, as a member of the Compagnia +della Misericordia, which brotherhood includes all ranks of +men. If an accident take place, their office is, to raise +the sufferer, and bear him tenderly to the Hospital. If a +fire break out, it is one of their functions to repair to the +spot, and render their assistance and protection. It is, +also, among their commonest offices, to attend and console the +sick; and they neither receive money, nor eat, nor drink, in any +house they visit for this purpose. Those who are on duty +for the time, are all called together, on a moment’s +notice, by the tolling of the great bell of the Tower; and it is +said that the Grand Duke has been seen, at this sound, to rise +from his seat at table, and quietly withdraw to attend the +summons.</p> +<p>In this other large Piazza, where an irregular kind of market +is held, and stores of old iron and other small merchandise are +set out on stalls, or scattered on the pavement, are grouped +together, the Cathedral with its great Dome, the beautiful +Italian Gothic Tower the Campanile, and the Baptistery with its +wrought bronze doors. And here, a small untrodden square in +the pavement, is ‘the Stone of <span +class="smcap">Dante</span>,’ where (so runs the story) he +was used to bring his stool, and sit in contemplation. I +wonder was he ever, in his bitter exile, withheld from cursing +the very stones in the streets of Florence the ungrateful, by any +kind remembrance of this old musing-place, and its association +with gentle thoughts of little Beatrice!</p> +<p>The chapel of the Medici, the Good and Bad Angels, of +Florence; the church of Santa Croce where Michael Angelo lies +buried, and where every stone in the cloisters is eloquent on +great men’s deaths; innumerable churches, often masses of +unfinished heavy brickwork externally, but solemn and serene +within; arrest our lingering steps, in strolling through the +city.</p> +<p>In keeping with the tombs among the cloisters, is the Museum +of Natural History, famous through the world for its preparations +in wax; beginning with models of leaves, seeds, plants, inferior +animals; and gradually ascending, through separate organs of the +human frame, up to the whole structure of that wonderful +creation, exquisitely presented, as in recent death. Few +admonitions of our frail mortality can be more solemn and more +sad, or strike so home upon the heart, as the counterfeits of +Youth and Beauty that are lying there, upon their beds, in their +last sleep.</p> +<p>Beyond the walls, the whole sweet Valley of the Arno, the +convent at Fiesole, the Tower of Galileo, <span +class="smcap">Boccaccio’s</span> house, old villas and +retreats; innumerable spots of interest, all glowing in a +landscape of surpassing beauty steeped in the richest light; are +spread before us. Returning from so much brightness, how +solemn and how grand the streets again, with their great, dark, +mournful palaces, and many legends: not of siege, and war, and +might, and Iron Hand alone, but of the triumphant growth of +peaceful Arts and Sciences.</p> +<p>What light is shed upon the world, at this day, from amidst +these rugged Palaces of Florence! Here, open to all comers, +in their beautiful and calm retreats, the ancient Sculptors are +immortal, side by side with Michael Angelo, Canova, Titian, +Rembrandt, Raphael, Poets, Historians, Philosophers—those +illustrious men of history, beside whom its crowned heads and +harnessed warriors show so poor and small, and are so soon +forgotten. Here, the imperishable part of noble minds +survives, placid and equal, when strongholds of assault and +defence are overthrown; when the tyranny of the many, or the few, +or both, is but a tale; when Pride and Power are so much +cloistered dust. The fire within the stern streets, and +among the massive Palaces and Towers, kindled by rays from +Heaven, is still burning brightly, when the flickering of war is +extinguished and the household fires of generations have decayed; +as thousands upon thousands of faces, rigid with the strife and +passion of the hour, have faded out of the old Squares and public +haunts, while the nameless Florentine Lady, preserved from +oblivion by a Painter’s hand, yet lives on, in enduring +grace and youth.</p> +<p>Let us look back on Florence while we may, and when its +shining Dome is seen no more, go travelling through cheerful +Tuscany, with a bright remembrance of it; for Italy will be the +fairer for the recollection. The summer-time being come: +and Genoa, and Milan, and the Lake of Como lying far behind us: +and we resting at Faido, a Swiss village, near the awful rocks +and mountains, the everlasting snows and roaring cataracts, of +the Great Saint Gothard: hearing the Italian tongue for the last +time on this journey: let us part from Italy, with all its +miseries and wrongs, affectionately, in our admiration of the +beauties, natural and artificial, of which it is full to +overflowing, and in our tenderness towards a people, naturally +well-disposed, and patient, and sweet-tempered. Years of +neglect, oppression, and misrule, have been at work, to change +their nature and reduce their spirit; miserable jealousies, +fomented by petty Princes to whom union was destruction, and +division strength, have been a canker at their root of +nationality, and have barbarized their language; but the good +that was in them ever, is in them yet, and a noble people may be, +one day, raised up from these ashes. Let us entertain that +hope! And let us not remember Italy the less regardfully, +because, in every fragment of her fallen Temples, and every stone +of her deserted palaces and prisons, she helps to inculcate the +lesson that the wheel of Time is rolling for an end, and that the +world is, in all great essentials, better, gentler, more +forbearing, and more hopeful, as it rolls!</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">THE END</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">PRINTED +BY</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, +LIMITED,</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LONDON AND BECCLES.</span></p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> This Project Gutenberg eText +contains just <i>Pictures from Italy</i>. <i>American +Notes</i> is also available from Project Gutenberg as a separate +eText.—DP.</p> +<p><a name="footnote216"></a><a href="#citation216" +class="footnote">[216]</a> This was written in 1846.</p> +<p><a name="footnote272"></a><a href="#citation272" +class="footnote">[272]</a> A far more liberal and just +recognition of the public has arisen in Westminster Abbey since +this was written.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES FROM ITALY***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 650-h.htm or 650-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/5/650 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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