Dickens, Charles – Pictures from Italy

dismal entering reverie gradually resolved themselves into familiar

forms and substances; and I already began to think that when the

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

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 sheepkidneys,

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,

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

reduced to a tapering and most precious strip of brightness,

looking down upon the heavy shade below! A brightness not too

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