Dickens, Charles – Pictures from Italy

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

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

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

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