Pictures From Italy | Page 7

jerked
themselves back again, with that special unsteadiness of purpose, and
hitching in the gait, which usually attaches to figures that are moved by
clock-work. Meanwhile, the Sacristan stood explaining these wonders,
and pointing them out, severally, with a wand. There was a centre
puppet of the Virgin Mary; and close to her, a small pigeon-hole, out of
which another and a very ill-looking puppet made one of the most
sudden plunges I ever saw accomplished: instantly flopping back again
at sight of her, and banging his little door violently after him. Taking
this to be emblematic of the victory over Sin and Death, and not at all
unwilling to show that I perfectly understood the subject, in
anticipation of the showman, I rashly said, 'Aha! The Evil Spirit. To be
sure. He is very soon disposed of.' 'Pardon, Monsieur,' said the
Sacristan, with a polite motion of his hand towards the little door, as if
introducing somebody--'The Angel Gabriel!'
Soon after daybreak next morning, we were steaming down the Arrowy
Rhone, at the rate of twenty miles an hour, in a very dirty vessel full of
merchandise, and with only three or four other passengers for our
companions: among whom, the most remarkable was a silly, old,
meek-faced, garlic-eating, immeasurably polite Chevalier, with a dirty
scrap of red ribbon hanging at his button-hole, as if he had tied it there
to remind himself of something; as Tom Noddy, in the farce, ties knots
in his pocket-handkerchief.
For the last two days, we had seen great sullen hills, the first
indications of the Alps, lowering in the distance. Now, we were rushing
on beside them: sometimes close beside them: sometimes with an
intervening slope, covered with vineyards. Villages and small towns
hanging in mid-air, with great woods of olives seen through the light
open towers of their churches, and clouds moving slowly on, upon the
steep acclivity behind them; ruined castles perched on every eminence;

and scattered houses in the clefts and gullies of the hills; made it very
beautiful. The great height of these, too, making the buildings look so
tiny, that they had all the charm of elegant models; their excessive
whiteness, as contrasted with the brown rocks, or the sombre, deep,
dull, heavy green of the olive-tree; and the puny size, and little slow
walk of the Lilliputian men and women on the bank; made a charming
picture. There were ferries out of number, too; bridges; the famous Pont
d'Esprit, with I don't know how many arches; towns where memorable
wines are made; Vallence, where Napoleon studied; and the noble river,
bringing at every winding turn, new beauties into view.
There lay before us, that same afternoon, the broken bridge of Avignon,
and all the city baking in the sun; yet with an under- done-pie-crust,
battlemented wall, that never will be brown, though it bake for
centuries.
The grapes were hanging in clusters in the streets, and the brilliant
Oleander was in full bloom everywhere. The streets are old and very
narrow, but tolerably clean, and shaded by awnings stretched from
house to house. Bright stuffs and handkerchiefs, curiosities, ancient
frames of carved wood, old chairs, ghostly tables, saints, virgins, angels,
and staring daubs of portraits, being exposed for sale beneath, it was
very quaint and lively. All this was much set off, too, by the glimpses
one caught, through a rusty gate standing ajar, of quiet sleepy
court-yards, having stately old houses within, as silent as tombs. It was
all very like one of the descriptions in the Arabian Nights. The three
one- eyed Calenders might have knocked at any one of those doors till
the street rang again, and the porter who persisted in asking
questions--the man who had the delicious purchases put into his basket
in the morning--might have opened it quite naturally.
After breakfast next morning, we sallied forth to see the lions. Such a
delicious breeze was blowing in, from the north, as made the walk
delightful: though the pavement-stones, and stones of the walls and
houses, were far too hot to have a hand laid on them comfortably.
We went, first of all, up a rocky height, to the cathedral: where Mass
was performing to an auditory very like that of Lyons, namely, several

old women, a baby, and a very self-possessed dog, who had marked out
for himself a little course or platform for exercise, beginning at the
altar-rails and ending at the door, up and down which constitutional
walk he trotted, during the service, as methodically and calmly, as any
old gentleman out of doors.
It is a bare old church, and the paintings in the roof are sadly defaced
by time and damp weather; but the sun was shining in, splendidly,
through the red curtains of the windows, and glittering