Pictures from Italy

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 marketday,

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 Vetturino) 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

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

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

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