Dickens, Charles – Pictures from Italy

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

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

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 Bale, 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 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

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