Pictures from Italy

left ear, and was much surprised, not to say discomfited.

Especially, as he was standing up at the time; and in consequence

of the carriage moving on suddenly, at the same moment, staggered

ignominiously, and buried himself among his flowers.

Some quarter of an hour of this sort of progress, brought us to the

Corso; and anything so gay, so bright, and lively as the whole

scene there, it would be difficult to imagine. From all the

innumerable balconies: from the remotest and highest, no less than

from the lowest and nearest: hangings of bright red, bright green,

bright blue, white and gold, were fluttering in the brilliant

sunlight. From windows, and from parapets, and tops of houses,

streamers of the richest colours, and draperies of the gaudiest and

most sparkling hues, were floating out upon the street. The

buildings seemed to have been literally turned inside out, and to

have all their gaiety towards the highway. Shop-fronts were taken

down, and the windows filled with company, like boxes at a shining

theatre; doors were carried off their hinges, and long tapestried

groves, hung with garlands of flowers and evergreens, displayed

within; builders’ scaffoldings were gorgeous temples, radiant in

silver, gold, and crimson; and in every nook and corner, from the

pavement to the chimney-tops, where women’s eyes could glisten,

there they danced, and laughed, and sparkled, like the light in

water. Every sort of bewitching madness of dress was there.

Little preposterous scarlet jackets; quaint old stomachers, more

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Dickens, Charles – Pictures From Italy

wicked than the smartest bodices; Polish pelisses, strained and

tight as ripe gooseberries; tiny Greek caps, all awry, and clinging

to the dark hair, Heaven knows how; every wild, quaint, bold, shy,

pettish, madcap fancy had its illustration in a dress; and every

fancy was as dead forgotten by its owner, in the tumult of

merriment, as if the three old aqueducts that still remain entire

had brought Lethe into Rome, upon their sturdy arches, that

morning.

The carriages were now three abreast; in broader places four; often

stationary for a long time together, always one close mass of

variegated brightness; showing, the whole street-full, through the

storm of flowers, like flowers of a larger growth themselves. In

some, the horses were richly caparisoned in magnificent trappings;

in others they were decked from head to tail, with flowing ribbons.

Some were driven by coachmen with enormous double faces: one face

leering at the horses: the other cocking its extraordinary eyes

into the carriage: and both rattling again, under the hail of

sugar-plums. Other drivers were attired as women, wearing long

ringlets and no bonnets, and looking more ridiculous in any real

difficulty with the horses (of which, in such a concourse, there

were a great many) than tongue can tell, or pen describe. Instead

of sitting IN the carriages, upon the seats, the handsome Roman

women, to see and to be seen the better, sit in the heads of the

barouches, at this time of general licence, with their feet upon

the cushions – and oh, the flowing skirts and dainty waists, the

blessed shapes and laughing faces, the free, good-humoured, gallant

figures that they make! There were great vans, too, full of

handsome girls – thirty, or more together, perhaps – and the

broadsides that were poured into, and poured out of, these fairy

fire-shops, splashed the air with flowers and bon-bons for ten

minutes at a time. Carriages, delayed long in one place, would

begin a deliberate engagement with other carriages, or with people

at the lower windows; and the spectators at some upper balcony or

window, joining in the fray, and attacking both parties, would

empty down great bags of confetti, that descended like a cloud, and

in an instant made them white as millers. Still, carriages on

carriages, dresses on dresses, colours on colours, crowds upon

crowds, without end. Men and boys clinging to the wheels of

coaches, and holding on behind, and following in their wake, and

diving in among the horses’ feet to pick up scattered flowers to

sell again; maskers on foot (the drollest generally) in fantastic

exaggerations of court-dresses, surveying the throng through

enormous eye-glasses, and always transported with an ecstasy of

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