Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 -- Travel -- Italy; Italy -- Description and travel; Novelists, English -- 19th century -- Biography
When we got on the mountain pass, which lies beyond this place, the wind
(as they had forewarned us at the inn) was so terrific, that we were
obliged to take my other half out of the carriage, lest she should be
blown over, carriage and all, and to hang to it, on the windy side (as
well as we could for laughing), to prevent its going, Heaven knows where.
For mere force of wind, this land-storm might have competed with an
Atlantic gale, and had a reasonable chance of coming off victorious. The
blast came sweeping down great gullies in a range of mountains on the
right: so that we looked with positive awe at a great morass on the left,
and saw that there was not a bush or twig to hold by. It seemed as if,
once blown from our feet, we must be swept out to sea, or away into
space. There was snow, and hail, and rain, and lightning, and thunder;
and there were rolling mists, travelling with incredible velocity. It
was dark, awful, and solitary to the last degree; there were mountains
above mountains, veiled in angry clouds; and there was such a wrathful,
rapid, violent, tumultuous hurry, everywhere, as rendered the scene
unspeakably exciting and grand.
It was a relief to get out of it, notwithstanding; and to cross even the
dismal, dirty Papal Frontier. After passing through two little towns; in
one of which, Acquapendente, there was also a ‘Carnival’ in progress:
consisting of one man dressed and masked as a woman, and one woman
dressed and masked as a man, walking ankle-deep, through the muddy
streets, in a very melancholy manner: we came, at dusk, within sight of
the Lake of Bolsena, on whose bank there is a little town of the same
name, much celebrated for malaria. With the exception of this poor
place, there is not a cottage on the banks of the lake, or near it (for
nobody dare sleep there); not a boat upon its waters; not a stick or
stake to break the dismal monotony of seven-and-twenty watery miles. We
were late in getting in, the roads being very bad from heavy rains; and,
after dark, the dulness of the scene was quite intolerable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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