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diff --git a/650-0.txt b/650-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee1f670 --- /dev/null +++ b/650-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7137 @@ +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: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES FROM ITALY*** + + +Transcribed from the 1913 Chapman & Hall, Ltd. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + AMERICAN NOTES + FOR + GENERAL CIRCULATION {1} + AND + PICTURES FROM ITALY + + + BY + CHARLES DICKENS + + * * * * * + + WITH 8 ILLUSTRATIONS BY + MARCUS STONE, R.A. + + * * * * * + + LONDON + CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD. + 1913 + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + +The Reader’s Passport 215 +Going through France 218 +Lyons, the Rhone, and the Goblin of Avignon 225 +Avignon to Genoa 233 +Genoa and its Neighbourhood 238 +To Parma, Modena, and Bologna 264 +Through Bologna and Ferrara 272 +An Italian Dream 277 +By Verona, Mantua, and Milan, across the Pass of the Simplon 284 +into Switzerland +To Rome by Pisa and Siena 297 +Rome 308 +A Rapid Diorama 345 + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +CIVIL AND MILITARY _Marcus Stone_, _R.A._ 218 +ITALIAN PEASANTS ,, ,, ,, 250 +THE CHIFFONIER ,, ,, ,, 294 +IN THE CATACOMBS ,, ,, ,, 326 + + + + +THE READER’S PASSPORT + + +IF 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _ex officio_ sanctity of all Priests and +Friars; I do no more than many conscientious Catholics both abroad and at +home. + +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. {216} + +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. + +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: + +Complexion Fair. +Eyes Very cheerful. +Nose Not supercilious. +Mouth Smiling. +Visage Beaming. +General Expression Extremely agreeable. + +GOING THROUGH FRANCE + + +ON 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. + +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. + +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. + + [Picture: Civil and military] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +What has he got in his hand now? More cucumbers? No. A long strip of +paper. It’s the bill. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + + + + +LYONS, THE RHONE, AND THE GOBLIN OF AVIGNON + + +CHALONS 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 (_concierge du palais a +apostolique_), 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. + +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 _des oubliettes_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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!’ + +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. + +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! + +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!’ + +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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +‘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!’ + +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. + + + + +AVIGNON TO GENOA + + +GOBLIN, having shown _les oubliettes_, felt that her great _coup_ was +struck. She let the door fall with a crash, and stood upon it with her +arms a-kimbo, sniffing prodigiously. + +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 OSTADE. + +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. + +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. + +‘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 _his_ 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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Marie Antoinette_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +GENOA AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD + + +THE first impressions of such a place as ALBARO, 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. + +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. + +This sequestered spot is approached by lanes so very narrow, that when we +arrived at the Custom-house, we found the people here had _taken the +measure_ 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 +_her_ 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. + +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 _sala_. 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 _sala_ is a sort of red brocade. All the chairs are immovable, and +the sofa weighs several tons. + +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. + +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 +_dolce far’ niente_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Not long ago, there was a festa-day, in honour of the _Virgin’s mother_, +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. + +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 _sala_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _that_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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 _they_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +MR. PEPYS 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 PETRARCH, who, when his pupil BOCCACCIO 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + + [Picture: Italian Romance] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 SIMOND +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. + +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 _bodies_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Although such a custom may be liable to the abuse attendant on many +Italian customs, of being recognised as a means of establishing a current +account with Heaven, on which to draw, too easily, for future bad +actions, or as an expiation for past misdeeds, it must be admitted to be +a good one, and a practical one, and one involving unquestionably good +works. A voluntary service like this, is surely better than the imposed +penance (not at all an infrequent one) of giving so many licks to such +and such a stone in the pavement of the cathedral; or than a vow to the +Madonna to wear nothing but blue for a year or two. This is supposed to +give great delight above; blue being (as is well known) the Madonna’s +favourite colour. Women who have devoted themselves to this act of +Faith, are very commonly seen walking in the streets. + +There are three theatres in the city, besides an old one now rarely +opened. The most important—the Carlo Felice: the opera-house of Genoa—is +a very splendid, commodious, and beautiful theatre. A company of +comedians were acting there, when we arrived: and soon after their +departure, a second-rate opera company came. The great season is not +until the carnival time—in the spring. Nothing impressed me, so much, in +my visits here (which were pretty numerous) as the uncommonly hard and +cruel character of the audience, who resent the slightest defect, take +nothing good-humouredly, seem to be always lying in wait for an +opportunity to hiss, and spare the actresses as little as the actors. + +But, as there is nothing else of a public nature at which they are +allowed to express the least disapprobation, perhaps they are resolved to +make the most of this opportunity. + +There are a great number of Piedmontese officers too, who are allowed the +privilege of kicking their heels in the pit, for next to nothing: +gratuitous, or cheap accommodation for these gentlemen being insisted on, +by the Governor, in all public or semi-public entertainments. They are +lofty critics in consequence, and infinitely more exacting than if they +made the unhappy manager’s fortune. + +The TEATRO DIURNO, or Day Theatre, is a covered stage in the open air, +where the performances take place by daylight, in the cool of the +afternoon; commencing at four or five o’clock, and lasting, some three +hours. It is curious, sitting among the audience, to have a fine view of +the neighbouring hills and houses, and to see 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. + +The Theatre of Puppets, or Marionetti—a famous company from Milan—is, +without any exception, the drollest exhibition I ever beheld in my life. +I never saw anything so exquisitely ridiculous. They _look_ between four +and five feet high, but are really much smaller; for when a musician in +the orchestra happens to put his hat on the stage, it becomes alarmingly +gigantic, and almost blots out an actor. They usually play a comedy, and +a ballet. The comic man in the comedy I saw one summer night, is a +waiter in an hotel. There never was such a locomotive actor, since the +world began. Great pains are taken with him. He has extra joints in his +legs: and a practical eye, with which he winks at the pit, in a manner +that is 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. + +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; _the_ 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. + +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: + +‘Sir Yew ud se on Low?’ (the _ow_, as in cow). + +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 _me_!’ said +Napoleon. ‘Me! One hundred thousand men were lately at my sole command; +and this English officer talks of four or five for _me_!’ 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. + +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.’ + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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_ saw nobody) +either naturally connected with the hotel, or put _en rapport_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _must_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! _That_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +TO PARMA, MODENA, AND BOLOGNA + + +I STROLLED 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 _coupé_ 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 _coupé_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _eau de vie_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, MAZEPPA! TO-NIGHT! +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. + +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. + +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 TASSONE, 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. + +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. + +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!’ + +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. + + + + +THROUGH BOLOGNA AND FERRARA + + +THERE 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. + +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. {272} + +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. + +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 +GUIDO, DOMENICHINO, and LUDOVICO CARACCI: 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +ARIOSTO’S house, TASSO’S 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. + +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 + + Beyond the blow that to the block + Pierced through with forced and sullen shock. + +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. + +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!’ + + + + +AN ITALIAN DREAM + + +I HAD 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 VENICE. + + + + +BY VERONA, MANTUA, AND MILAN, ACROSS THE PASS OF THE SIMPLON INTO +SWITZERLAND + + +I HAD 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. + +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. + +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. + +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, + + And made Verona’s ancient citizens + Cast by their grave, beseeming ornaments, + To wield old partizans. + +With its fast-rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great castle, waving +cypresses, and prospect so delightful, and so cheerful! Pleasant Verona! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _coupé_ of an omnibus, and +next to the conductor, who was reading the Mysteries of Paris), + + There is no world without Verona’s walls + But purgatory, torture, hell itself. + Hence-banished is banished from the world, + And world’s exile is death— + +which reminded me that Romeo was only banished five-and-twenty miles +after all, and rather disturbed my confidence in his energy and boldness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +‘Well!’ said I, when I was ready, ‘shall we go out now?’ + +‘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.’ + +We were now in the street. + +‘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!’ + +Having viewed all these remarkable objects, I inquired if there were much +to see in Mantua. + +‘Well! Truly, no. Not much! So, so,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders +apologetically. + +‘Many churches?’ + +‘No. Nearly all suppressed by the French.’ + +‘Monasteries or convents?’ + +‘No. The French again! Nearly all suppressed by Napoleon.’ + +‘Much business?’ + +‘Very little business.’ + +‘Many strangers?’ + +‘Ah Heaven!’ + +I thought he would have fainted. + +‘Then, when we have seen the two large churches yonder, what shall we do +next?’ said I. + +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: + +‘We can take a little turn about the town, Signore!’ (Si può far ’un +píccolo gíro della citta). + +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. + +‘One must eat,’ he said; ‘but, bah! it was a dull place, without doubt!’ + +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—_our_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_to ask the way_ to Milan. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, +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. + +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. + +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. + + [Picture: The Chiffonier] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Like GRUMIO, 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 GRUMIO’S story, ‘it shall die +in oblivion.’ + + + + +TO ROME BY PISA AND SIENA + + +THERE 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _that_ +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. _His_ 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. + +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. + +SIMOND 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 _upon the low side_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Not so Leghorn (made illustrious by SMOLLETT’S 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. + +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. + +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; _outside_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +ROME + + +WE 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. + +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 _my_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. GOD be thanked: a ruin! + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 _can_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +The Friday and Saturday having been solemn Festa days, and Sunday being +always a _dies non_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _in_ 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. + +How it ever _is_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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!’ + +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. + +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 +_dolce far’ niente_ 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. + +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. + +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?’ + + * * * * * + +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: + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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! + +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. + +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. + +‘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. + + [Picture: In the Catacombs] + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _ex officio_ (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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _their_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! _Do_ you see a Mustard-Pot?’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _them_ towards the overflowing street: as if it were a cheerful +fire, and could be shared in, that way. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + + + +A RAPID DIORAMA + + +WE 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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _all_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 THIS 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +There is one extraordinary feature in the real life of Naples, at which +we may take a glance before we go—the Lotteries. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Here is the last judge come at last, and now he takes his place at the +horse-shoe table. + +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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +‘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!’ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!’ + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 DANTE,’ 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! + +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. + +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. + +Beyond the walls, the whole sweet Valley of the Arno, the convent at +Fiesole, the Tower of Galileo, BOCCACCIO’S 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. + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + + THE END + + * * * * * + + PRINTED BY + WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + LONDON AND BECCLES. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{1} This Project Gutenberg eText contains just _Pictures from Italy_. +_American Notes_ is also available from Project Gutenberg as a separate +eText.—DP. + +{216} This was written in 1846. + +{272} A far more liberal and just recognition of the public has arisen +in Westminster Abbey since this was written. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES FROM ITALY*** + + +******* This file should be named 650-0.txt or 650-0.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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