Appearance
Excerpt
Excerpt from Pictures from Italy, by Charles Dickens
In the streets of shops, the houses are much smaller, but of great size
notwithstanding, and extremely high. They are very dirty: quite
undrained, if my nose be at all reliable: and emit a peculiar fragrance,
like the smell of very bad cheese, kept in very hot blankets.
Notwithstanding the height of the houses, there would seem to have been a
lack of room in the City, for new houses are thrust in everywhere.
Wherever it has been possible to cram a tumble-down tenement into a crack
or corner, in it has gone. If there be a nook or angle in the wall of a
church, or a crevice in any other dead wall, of any sort, there you are
sure to find some kind of habitation: looking as if it had grown there,
like a fungus. Against the Government House, against the old Senate
House, round about any large building, little shops stick so close, like
parasite vermin to the great carcase. And for all this, look where you
may: up steps, down steps, anywhere, everywhere: there are irregular
houses, receding, starting forward, tumbling down, leaning against their
neighbours, crippling themselves or their friends by some means or other,
until one, more irregular than the rest, chokes up the way, and you can’t
see any further.
One of the rottenest-looking parts of the town, I think, is down by the
landing-wharf: though it may be, that its being associated with a great
deal of rottenness on the evening of our arrival, has stamped it deeper
in my mind. Here, again, the houses are very high, and are of an
infinite variety of deformed shapes, and have (as most of the houses
have) something hanging out of a great many windows, and wafting its
frowsy fragrance on the breeze. Sometimes, it is a curtain; sometimes,
it is a carpet; sometimes, it is a bed; sometimes, a whole line-full of
clothes; but there is almost always something. Before the basement of
these houses, is an arcade over the pavement: very massive, dark, and
low, like an old crypt. The stone, or plaster, of which it is made, has
turned quite black; and against every one of these black piles, all sorts
of filth and garbage seem to accumulate spontaneously. Beneath some of
the arches, the sellers of macaroni and polenta establish their stalls,
which are by no means inviting. The offal of a fish-market, near at
hand—that is to say, of a back lane, where people sit upon the ground and
on various old bulk-heads and sheds, and sell fish when they have any to
dispose of—and of a vegetable market, constructed on the same
principle—are contributed to the decoration of this quarter; and as all
the mercantile business is transacted here, and it is crowded all day, it
has a very decided flavour about it. The Porto Franco, or Free Port
(where goods brought in from foreign countries pay no duty until they are
sold and taken out, as in a bonded warehouse in England), is down here
also; and two portentous officials, in cocked hats, stand at the gate to
search you if they choose, and to keep out Monks and Ladies. For,
Sanctity as well as Beauty has been known to yield to the temptation of
smuggling, and in the same way: that is to say, by concealing the
smuggled property beneath the loose folds of its dress. So Sanctity and
Beauty may, by no means, enter.
The streets of Genoa would be all the better for the importation of a few
Priests of prepossessing appearance. Every fourth or fifth man in the
streets is a Priest or a Monk; and there is pretty sure to be at least
one itinerant ecclesiastic inside or outside every hackney carriage on
the neighbouring roads. I have no knowledge, elsewhere, of more
repulsive countenances than are to be found among these gentry. If
Nature’s handwriting be at all legible, greater varieties of sloth,
deceit, and intellectual torpor, could hardly be observed among any class
of men in the world.
Explanation
Detailed Explanation of the Excerpt from Pictures from Italy by Charles Dickens
This passage from Pictures from Italy (1846) is a vivid, satirical, and highly sensory description of Genoa, a major port city in northern Italy, as observed by Charles Dickens during his travels. The book is a travelogue blending personal impressions, social commentary, and Dickens’s signature wit, offering a mix of admiration and critique of Italian culture, architecture, and society. This particular excerpt focuses on the squalor, chaos, and moral decay Dickens perceives in Genoa’s streets, using rich imagery, hyperbole, and biting irony to convey his disdain.
Context of the Source
- Pictures from Italy (1846) is a non-fiction work documenting Dickens’s year-long tour of Italy (1844–45) with his family.
- The book was written during a period when Italy was still a collection of city-states and kingdoms (pre-unification in 1861), and Genoa was a bustling but decaying commercial hub under the Kingdom of Sardinia.
- Dickens was deeply influenced by the social inequalities, religious hypocrisy, and urban decay he witnessed, which he contrasts with the romanticized images of Italy in contemporary travel writing.
- His observations reflect his broader social critiques (seen in novels like Oliver Twist and Bleak House), where he exposes the plight of the poor and the corruption of institutions—here, extending to the Catholic Church.
Themes in the Excerpt
Urban Decay and Overcrowding
- Dickens paints Genoa as a city suffocating under its own filth and disorganization. The "tumble-down tenements" crammed into every available space suggest a society where poverty and desperation have led to chaotic, unsustainable living conditions.
- The comparison of buildings to fungus and parasite vermin implies organic, uncontrolled growth—like a disease spreading unchecked.
Sensory and Moral Filth
- The passage is dominated by olfactory imagery ("smell of very bad cheese, kept in very hot blankets," "frowsy fragrance") to evoke disgust. Dickens uses smell—a primal, inescapable sense—to immerse the reader in the city’s squalor.
- The visual decay (blackened arcades, rotting fish markets, "deformed shapes" of houses) mirrors moral corruption, a common Dickensian trope where physical and spiritual decay are intertwined.
Religious Hypocrisy and Corruption
- Dickens’s disdain for the Catholic clergy is overt. He describes priests and monks as repulsive, embodying "sloth, deceit, and intellectual torpor."
- The anecdote about Sanctity and Beauty smuggling goods under their robes is a scathing indictment of religious hypocrisy—those meant to uphold moral purity are instead complicit in crime.
- The exclusion of monks from the Free Port ("Sanctity... may, by no means, enter") is ironic, as it suggests that even the authorities recognize their untrustworthiness.
Social Inequality and Exploitation
- The arcades (once grand architectural features) are now "massive, dark, and low," symbolizing the decline of Genoa’s former glory.
- The fish and vegetable markets operated by people sitting "upon the ground" highlight the desperation of the poor, while the Porto Franco (Free Port) represents the commercial elite’s control over trade.
- The two officials in cocked hats enforce rules arbitrarily ("search you if they choose"), reinforcing the theme of oppressive authority.
Chaos vs. Order
- The city is a labyrinth of irregular houses that "recede, start forward, tumble down, lean against their neighbours," creating a sense of claustrophobic disorder.
- The final image—"one, more irregular than the rest, chokes up the way"—suggests a society on the brink of collapse, where individual greed has obstructed any semblance of collective progress.
Literary Devices
Simile and Metaphor
- "like a fungus" – The organic, unwanted growth of slum housing.
- "like parasite vermin to the great carcase" – The shops clinging to grand buildings (e.g., the Government House) are compared to parasites feeding off a decaying body, implying that the city’s institutions are rotting from within.
- "an old crypt" – The arcades are likened to a burial vault, reinforcing the theme of death and decay.
Hyperbole and Exaggeration
- "infinite variety of deformed shapes" – Emphasizes the grotesque, unnatural state of the buildings.
- "every fourth or fifth man is a Priest or a Monk" – While likely an exaggeration, it underscores the omnipresence and intrusiveness of the clergy.
Synecdoche
- "Nature’s handwriting" – The faces of the priests and monks are said to reveal their true, corrupt nature, as if their moral failings are physically inscribed upon them.
Irony and Sarcasm
- The Free Port’s exclusion of monks and ladies is ironic because these figures, supposed to be above worldly temptations, are the very ones suspected of smuggling.
- The priests’ "prepossessing appearance" is sarcastic—Dickens clearly finds them repulsive.
Sensory Imagery
- Olfactory: "peculiar fragrance," "frowsy fragrance," "decided flavour" – The city’s stench is inescapable.
- Tactile: "filth and garbage seem to accumulate spontaneously" – The grime feels almost alive, clinging to the city.
- Visual: "black piles," "deformed shapes," "rotting fish-market" – The city is a grotesque tableau.
Juxtaposition
- The grandeur of historical buildings (Government House, Senate House) vs. the squalor of the slums clinging to them.
- The holiness of monks vs. their criminal tendencies.
Significance of the Passage
Dickens’s Travel Writing Style
- Unlike romanticized travelogues of Italy (e.g., by Byron or Shelley), Dickens focuses on the gritty reality of urban life, aligning with his social reformist stance.
- His subjective, impressionistic approach—mixing personal revulsion with sharp observation—makes the description visceral and immediate.
Critique of Catholic Italy
- Dickens, a Protestant, was deeply skeptical of Catholicism, which he associated with superstition, corruption, and oppression.
- His portrayal of the clergy as lazy, deceitful, and intellectually stagnant reflects broader 19th-century Protestant critiques of the Catholic Church.
Urbanization and Industrialization
- The passage foreshadows themes in Dickens’s later novels (e.g., Little Dorrit, Bleak House), where overcrowded, unsanitary cities symbolize societal breakdown.
- The lack of drainage and spontaneous filth prefigure public health concerns that would later inspire sanitation reforms in Victorian England.
Colonialist Gaze?
- Some modern readers might critique Dickens’s condescending tone toward Italy, which could be seen as a British imperialist perspective—judging Italian society as inferior or backward.
- However, his critiques are often universal, targeting poverty and corruption wherever he finds them (including in England).
Line-by-Line Breakdown of Key Sections
"the houses are much smaller, but of great size notwithstanding, and extremely high. They are very dirty: quite undrained..."
- The paradox ("much smaller" yet "of great size") sets the tone of contradiction—Genoa is both grand and squalid.
- "undrained" suggests not just poor sanitation but a moral stagnation.
"like the smell of very bad cheese, kept in very hot blankets"
- A grotesque, almost comical simile that makes the stench tangible. The "hot blankets" imply suffocation—both literal and metaphorical.
"little shops stick so close, like parasite vermin to the great carcase"
- The body horror of parasites feeding on a corpse extends to the city itself, which is decaying while still alive.
"one, more irregular than the rest, chokes up the way, and you can’t see any further"
- A symbolic ending: the city’s chaos is so overwhelming that it blocks vision, just as its problems block progress.
"Every fourth or fifth man in the streets is a Priest or a Monk"
- The sheer number of clergy suggests an overbearing religious presence, which Dickens sees as stifling.
"greater varieties of sloth, deceit, and intellectual torpor"
- The three vices attributed to the clergy align with Dickens’s view of them as lazy, dishonest, and anti-intellectual.
Conclusion: Why This Passage Matters
This excerpt is a masterclass in descriptive prose that goes beyond mere observation to moral and social critique. Dickens doesn’t just show us Genoa—he makes us feel its decay, smell its rot, and recoil at its hypocrisy. His use of vivid imagery, biting irony, and structural chaos mirrors the city’s own disarray, reinforcing his argument that physical and moral corruption are inseparable.
For modern readers, the passage serves as:
- A historical snapshot of pre-unification Italy.
- A literary model for how travel writing can blend personal experience with social commentary.
- A reminder of how urban poverty and institutional corruption are timeless themes, as relevant today as in Dickens’s time.
Ultimately, Dickens’s Genoa is not just a place but a symbol—of what happens when greed, neglect, and hypocrisy are allowed to fester unchecked.