Pictures From Italy

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by Dickens, Chales


  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 Bale, 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,

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  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.'

  CHAPTER IX - TO ROME BY PISA AND SIENA

  THERE is nothing in Italy, more beautiful to me, than the coastroad

  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

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  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 fireflies.
>
  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.

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  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 noon-tide of

  his triumph.

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  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, an
d 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

 

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