But Their Dwellings Are So
Close And Confined That If Those Parts Of The City Had Been Beaten
Down By Massena In The Time Of The Terrible Blockade, It Would Have
At Least Occasioned One Public Benefit Among Many Misfortunes.
The Peasant Women, with naked feet and legs, are so constantly
washing clothes, in the public tanks, and in every stream and
ditch, that one cannot help wondering, in the midst of all this
dirt, who wears them when they are clean.
The custom is to lay the
wet linen which is being operated upon, on a smooth stone, and
hammer away at it, with a flat wooden mallet. This they do, as
furiously as if they were revenging themselves on dress in general
for being connected with the Fall of Mankind.
It is not unusual to see, lying on the edge of the tank at these
times, or on another flat stone, an unfortunate baby, tightly
swathed up, arms and legs and all, in an enormous quantity of
wrapper, so that it is unable to move a toe or finger. This custom
(which we often see represented in old pictures) is universal among
the common people. A child is left anywhere without the
possibility of crawling away, or is accidentally knocked off a
shelf, or tumbled out of bed, or is hung up to a hook now and then,
and left dangling like a doll at an English rag-shop, without the
least inconvenience to anybody.
I was sitting, one Sunday, soon after my arrival, in the little
country church of San Martino, a couple of miles from the city,
while a baptism took place. I saw the priest, and an attendant
with a large taper, and a man, and a woman, and some others; but I
had no more idea, until the ceremony was all over, that it was a
baptism, or that the curious little stiff instrument, that was
passed from one to another, in the course of the ceremony, by the
handle--like a short poker--was a child, than I had that it was my
own christening. I borrowed the child afterwards, for a minute or
two (it was lying across the font then), and found it very red in
the face but perfectly quiet, and not to be bent on any terms. The
number of cripples in the streets, soon ceased to surprise me.
There are plenty of Saints' and Virgin's Shrines, of course;
generally at the corners of streets. The favourite memento to the
Faithful, about Genoa, is a painting, representing a peasant on his
knees, with a spade and some other agricultural implements beside
him; and the Madonna, with the Infant Saviour in her arms,
appearing to him in a cloud. This is the legend of the Madonna
della Guardia: a chapel on a mountain within a few miles, which is
in high repute. It seems that this peasant lived all alone by
himself, tilling some land atop of the mountain, where, being a
devout man, he daily said his prayers to the Virgin in the open
air; for his hut was a very poor one. Upon a certain day, the
Virgin appeared to him, as in the picture, and said, 'Why do you
pray in the open air, and without a priest?' The peasant explained
because there was neither priest nor church at hand--a very
uncommon complaint indeed in Italy. 'I should wish, then,' said
the Celestial Visitor, 'to have a chapel built here, in which the
prayers of the Faithful may be offered up.' 'But, Santissima
Madonna,' said the peasant, 'I am a poor man; and chapels cannot be
built without money. They must be supported, too, Santissima; for
to have a chapel and not support it liberally, is a wickedness--a
deadly sin.' This sentiment gave great satisfaction to the
visitor. 'Go!' said she. 'There is such a village in the valley
on the left, and such another village in the valley on the right,
and such another village elsewhere, that will gladly contribute to
the building of a chapel. Go to them! Relate what you have seen;
and do not doubt that sufficient money will be forthcoming to erect
my chapel, or that it will, afterwards, be handsomely maintained.'
All of which (miraculously) turned out to be quite true. And in
proof of this prediction and revelation, there is the chapel of the
Madonna della Guardia, rich and flourishing at this day.
The splendour and variety of the Genoese churches, can hardly be
exaggerated. The church of the Annunciata especially: built, like
many of the others, at the cost of one noble family, and now in
slow progress of repair: from the outer door to the utmost height
of the high cupola, is so elaborately painted and set in gold, that
it looks (as SIMOND describes it, in his charming book on Italy)
like a great enamelled snuff-box. Most of the richer churches
contain some beautiful pictures, or other embellishments of great
price, almost universally set, side by side, with sprawling
effigies of maudlin monks, and the veriest trash and tinsel ever
seen.
It may be a consequence of the frequent direction of the popular
mind, and pocket, to the souls in Purgatory, but there is very
little tenderness for the BODIES of the dead here. For the very
poor, there are, immediately outside one angle of the walls, and
behind a jutting point of the fortification, near the sea, certain
common pits--one for every day in the year--which all remain closed
up, until the turn of each comes for its daily reception of dead
bodies. Among the troops in the town, there are usually some
Swiss: more or less. When any of these die, they are buried out
of a fund maintained by such of their countrymen as are resident in
Genoa. Their providing coffins for these men is matter of great
astonishment to the authorities.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 17 of 72
Words from 16371 to 17370
of 73541
