Chapter V: Part 5

“⸺such a sacred and home-felt delight
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now⸺”

On Good Friday, after the last miserere, we went to St. Peter’s, where a most brilliantly illuminated cross was suspended; we did not however, continue there long, being almost satiated with these raree-shows. I then had the pleasure of spending a quiet evening with my friends Mr. and Mrs. H⸺, to whose interest I had been indebted for securing my places at each of the misereres, as well as for many other kind attentions during my stay in Rome.

Easter Sunday at length arrived, which in every respect, and particularly in point of pageantry, is the greatest festival observed by the Roman church throughout the year. The two first grand ceremonies of the procession, and the pope’s benediction, I did not attend. I was present, however, at the illumination of St. Peter’s, and the exhibition of fire-works at the castle of St. Angelo; but, alas! denied the gratification of seeing the brilliant spectacles. I cannot, however, resist the inclination to transcribe the following animated description of these enchanting scenes, as well as the preceding ceremonies, extracted from a late publication, entitled “Rome in the Nineteenth Century.”

“On this day the church puts forth all her pomp and splendour. The pope assists at high mass, and there is a procession, which, seen to the highest advantage in that noble church, is as grand as any such procession can be. A pen was erected for the ladies on the left of the high altar, for wherever the pope comes, they are always cooped up for fear of accidents. Luckily, however, it was unprovided with a grate, so they could see more to perfection. It was, in all respects, a happy liberation from the gloomy imprisonment they had been sustaining, day after day, behind the grate, in the sistine chapel. The sable robes that they wore during the last week, were now universally thrown aside, and the gayer—the more catholicly orthodox—were they.

“The church was lined with the Guarda Nobili, in their splendid uniforms of gold and scarlet, and nodding plumes of white ostrich feathers; and the Swiss guards, with their polished cuirasses and steel helmets. The great centre aisle was kept clear by a double wall of armed men, for the grand procession, the approach of which, after much expectation, was proclaimed by the sound of a trumpet, from the farther end of the church. A long band of priests advanced, loaded with still augmenting magnificence, as they ascended to the higher orders. Cloth of gold and embroidery of gold and silver, and crimson velvet, and mantles of spotted ermine, and flowing trains, and attendant train-bearers, and mitres, and crucifixes glittering with jewels, and priests, and patriarchs, and bishops, and cardinals, dazzled our astonished eyes, and filled the long length of St. Peter’s. Lastly came the pope in his crimson chair of state, borne on the shoulders of twenty Palefrenieri, arrayed in robes of white, and wearing the tiara, or triple crown of the conjoined Trinity, with a canopy of cloth of silver, floating over his head, and preceded by two men, carrying enormous fans, composed of large plumes of ostrich feathers, mounted on long gilded wands. He stopped to pay his adorations to the miraculous Madonna, in her chapel, about half way up; and this duty, which he never omits, being performed, he was slowly borne past the high altar, liberally giving his benediction with the twirl of his fingers as he passed. They sat him down upon a magnificent stool, in front of the altar, on which he knelt, and the crown being taken off, and the cardinals taking off their little red scull-caps, and all kneeling in a row, he was supposed to pray. Having remained in this attitude a few minutes, they took him to the chair prepared for him, on the right of the throne. There he read, or seemed to read, something out of a book, for it was impossible, that without his spectacles, he could really make it out; and then he was again taken to the altar, on which his tiara was placed; and bareheaded, he repeated, or as by courtesy they call it, sang a small part of the service, threw up clouds of incense, and was removed to the crimson canopied throne, and high mass was celebrated by a cardinal and two bishops, at which he assisted, that is, he got up and sat down, in particular parts.

“During the whole service, I could not help observing, that the only part of the congregation who where in the least attentive, were the small body of English, whom curiosity, and perhaps sense of decorum, rendered so. All the Italians seemed to consider it quite as much of a pageant as ourselves, but neither a new, nor an interesting one; and they were walking about, and talking, and interchanging pinches of snuff with each other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement, till the tinkling of a little bell, which announced the elevation of the Host, changed the scene. Every knee was now bent to the earth; every voice was hushed; the reversed arms of the military rung with an instantaneous clang on the marble pavement, as they sunk on the ground, and all was still as death. This did not last above two minutes. The Host was swallowed; and so begun and ended the only thing that bore even the smallest outward aspect of religion. They brought the pope, however, again to the footstool to pray. Two cardinals always support him, some priestly attendants bear up his train, and others busy themselves about his drapery, while two or three others put on and off his tiara and mitre; and so conduct him to and fro, between the altar and the throne, where he sits at the top of his magnificent temple, exactly like an idol dressed up to be worshipped. The long silver robes, the pale, dead, inanimate countenance, and helpless appearance of the good old man, tend still more to give him the air of a thing without any will of its own, but which is carried about, and set in motion, and managed by the priests, and taught by them to make certain movements.

“At last they put him again into the chair, set the crown upon his head, and, preceded by the great ostrich feather fans, he was borne out of the church. We made all possible expedition up to the loggia,—a temporary sort of gallery, erected on the top of the colonnade, opposite to that occupied by the royal families,—and secured places in the front row. An expecting crowd had long covered the broad expanded steps, and platform of the church, and spread itself over the piazza. The military now poured out of St. Peter’s and formed an immense ring, before its spacious front, behind which the horse guards were drawn up, and an immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and thousands of people on foot, were assembled. But the multitude almost shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither piety, curiosity, nor even that all universal gregarious passion, that makes people crowd wherever there is a crowd, had collected together sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round, were, however thronged with spectators; and it was a curious sight to see such a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads of kings, to the poor cripple who crawled along the pavement,—assembled together to await the blessing of an old man, their fellow-mortal, now tottering on the brink of the grave. Not the least picturesque figures among the throng, were the Contadini, who, in every variety of curious costume, had flocked in from their distant mountain villages, to receive the blessing of the holy father, and whose bright and eager countenances, shaded by their long dark hair, were turned to the balcony where the pope was to appear. At length the two white ostrich feather fans, the forerunners of his approach, were seen, and he was borne forward on his throne above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who filled the balcony. After an audible prayer, he arose, and elevating his hands to heaven, invoked a solemn benediction upon the assembled multitude, and all the people committed to his charge. Every head was uncovered, the soldiers, and many of the spectators, sunk on their knees on the pavement to receive the blessing. That blessing was given with impressive solemnity, but with little gesture and parade. Immediately the thundering of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St. Peter’s, proclaimed the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope was borne out, and the people rose from their knees; but at least one half of them had never knelt at all, which greatly diminished the impressive effect of the whole. I forgot to say, that, after the benediction, several papers were thrown down by one of the cardinals, which contained, I understand, the indulgence granted to the different churches, and a most pious scuffle ensued among the people to catch them. The pope’s benediction this day, the Italians say, extends all over the world, but on Thursday, it only goes to the gates of Rome. On Thursday too, previous to the benediction, one of the cardinals curses all Jews, Turks, and heretics, ‘by bell, book, and candle.’ The little bell is rung, the curse is sung from the book, and the lighted taper thrown down amongst the people. The pope’s benediction immediately follows upon all true believers. At Ave Maria we took our station on the right of the farther extremity of the piazza of St. Peter’s, so as to lose the deformity of the dark dingy Vatican Palace. The gathering shades of night, rendered the illumination every moment more brilliant.

“The whole of this immense church,—its columns, capitals, cornices, and pediments,—the beautiful swell of the lofty dome, towering into heaven, the ribs converging into one point at top, surmounted by the lantern of the church, and crowned by the cross,—all were designed in lines of fire; and the vast sweep of the circling colonnades, in every rib, line, mould, cornice, and column, were resplendent in the same beautiful light.

“While we were gazing upon it, suddenly a bell chimed. On the cross, at the top, waved a brilliant light, as if wielded by some celestial hand, and instantly ten thousand globes, and stars of vivid fire, seemed to roll spontaneously along the building, as if by magic; and self-kindled, it blazed in a moment into one dazzling flood of glory. Fancy herself, in her most sportive mood, could scarcely have conceived so wonderful a spectacle, as the instantaneous illumination of this magnificent fabric. The agents by whom it was effected were unseen, and it seemed to be the work of enchantment. In the first instance, the illuminations had appeared to be complete, and one could not dream, that thousands, and tens of thousands of lamps were still to be illuminated. Their vivid blazes harmonized beautifully with the softer, milder light of the lanternoni.

“The brilliant glow of the whole illumination shed a rosy light upon the fountains, whose silver fall, and ever-playing showers, accorded well with the magic of the scene. Viewed from the Trinita de’ Monti, its effect was unspeakably beautiful. It seemed to be an enchanted palace, hung in air, and called up by the wand of some invisible spirit.

“We did not, however, drive to the Trinita de’ Monti, till after the exhibition of the girandola, or great fireworks, from the castle of St. Angelo, which commences by a tremendous explosion, that represented the raging eruption of a volcano. Red sheets of fire seemed to blaze upwards into the glowing heavens, and then to pour down their liquid stream upon the earth. This was followed by an incessant, and complicated display of every varied device that imagination could figure,—one changing into another, and the beauty of the first, effaced by that of the last. Hundreds of immense wheels turned round with a velocity that almost seemed as if demons were whirling them, letting fall thousands of hissing dragons, and scorpions, and fiery snakes, whose long convolutions, darting forward as far as the eye could reach in every direction, at length vanished into air. Fountains, and jets of fire, threw up their blazing cascades into the skies.

“The whole vault of heaven shone with the vivid fires, and seemed to receive into itself innumerable stars and suns, which shooting up into it, in brightness almost insufferable,—vanished—like earth-born hopes. The reflection in the depth of the calm clear water of the Tiber, was scarcely less beautiful than the spectacle itself, and the whole ended in a tremendous burst of fire, which, while it lasted, almost seemed to threaten conflagration to the world.

“The expense of the illumination of St. Peter’s, and of the girandola, when repeated two successive evenings, as they invariably are at the festival of St. Peter, is one thousand crowns; when only exhibited one night, they cost seven hundred. Eighty men were employed in the instantaneous illuminations of the lamps, which to us seemed the work of enchantment. They were so posted as to be unseen.”

The conclusion of these ceremonies impresses one forcibly, with the same feelings as the termination of a theatrical performance, when the green curtain descends, and conceals from view the various actors of the drama, all as yet retaining their appropriate situations, and ready to recommence the exhibition, when the appointed period again comes round; while the spectators hasten away to their respective homes carrying with them vivid ideas of the pageantry with which they have been amused: thus was it with Rome, which, like a vast amphitheatre, now began to pour forth in all directions, the crowds of visitors, whom this scene of pleasure, or sentiments of devotion, had attracted.

It was not a little interesting to contrast these religious spectacles of modern, with the gigantic and martial amusements of ancient Rome; nor is it possible to receive otherwise than a melancholy impression, of the comparative littleness of the former, as well as the mistaken policy, which has perverted the pure simplicity of a religion, primitively plain and unadorned as that of Christianity, into the ground-work, and vehicle, of affected ceremonial and gorgeous pageantry, for the purpose of enslaving the human mind. Nor, after all, does any part of this imposing scene strongly affect the imagination, so as to realize the ideal expectation of its participators, except indeed the all powerful and sublime misereres; the illumination of St. Peter’s; and the fireworks of St. Angelo. These, indeed, work upon the mind with magic charms, and transport it into a fairy world, beyond the limits of mortality.

I had a great desire to ascend to the summit of St. Peter’s, notwithstanding a prohibition had lately been issued against persons going up to the cross, on account, it was said, of a young English midshipman having ascended late one evening, and attached privately to it an union Jack, which he had carried in his pocket; so that next morning the British flag was seen flying over the once mighty city of Rome. I should rather however imagine, that the prohibition arose from fear of accidents.

On leaving the church, we ascended a broad staircase formed of stone steps, so easy of ascent, that you might have rode up or down with perfect safety, which led to the upper part of the body of the church, whence its dome springs, and where you are astonished by the vast extent of the roof, with ranges of small houses and workshops upon it. Stone seats are also placed for the accommodation of visitors, from whence may be seen the cupolas of the side chapels, which are invisible from below. I determined, however, to proceed into the ball, which every one is permitted to do.

From this point we ascended the wonderful, and stupendous dome, by a succession of staircases, each terminating in a gallery, from whence a noble view of the city and surrounding country is to be seen.

The staircases gradually decreased as we ascended, until, at length, they became so contracted, as scarcely to be capable of admitting a man of more than ordinary size, and who, if he did succeed in reaching the copper ladder which leads immediately into the ball, must have then disencumbered himself of his dress, to have made good his entry into that place.

On arriving within the ball, we found it capacious enough to contain several persons, and were told that no less than from sixteen to twenty had been within it at the same time; but they must have been of the same quality with Pharaoh’s lean kine; or, as I have heard Scotchmen express it, “a heap of fellows.”

During my stay in Rome, I frequently repeated my visits to its more interesting points, as the Capitol, St. Peter’s, and the Pantheon, and traversed the city and its neighbourhood; by which repetitions I imagine that I gained almost as correct ideas, as if I had actually seen these objects.

That beautiful and venerable building, the Pantheon, must not be passed over without a more particular notice.

“Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands,
Amid the domes of modern hands,
Amid the toys of idle state,
How simply—how severely great.”

This temple, which from its round form, has obtained the name of the Rotunda, is a hundred and fifty feet in height, and about the same in diameter; it is divided into eight parts, one of which forms the entrance gate: each of the other seven compartments, consists of two fluted Corinthian pillars, and as many pilasters of _Giallo Antico_. The capitals and bases are of white marble, and support a circular entablature. The wall is perpendicular for half the height of the temple, and then gradually slopes off as it ascends, forming a dome, the centre of which consists of an aperture twenty-five feet in diameter.

There are no windows, the above opening at the top, admitting a sufficiency of light, and producing a finer effect than windows could have done. No great inconvenience can result from this opening; the conical form of the temple prevents the rain from falling near the walls where the altars now are, and where the statues of the gods were formerly placed. The rain which falls in the middle, immediately passes through holes which perforate a large piece of porphyry, that forms the centre of the pavement; the whole of which consists of various pieces of marble, agate, and other materials, which have been picked up from the ruins, and now compose a singular kind of Mosaic work.

The portico was added by Agrippa, the son-in-law of Augustus; it is supported by sixteen pieces of granite, five feet in diameter, and each consisting of single pieces. Upon the frieze in the front, is an inscription relative to its founder.

Some are of opinion that the Pantheon is much more ancient than the Augustan age, and that the portico, which is the only part they admit to be the work of Agrippa, though beautiful in itself, does not correspond with the simplicity of the body of the temple.

But as it is not possible that I can convey any thing like a correct idea of its beauties and magnificence, I shall venture to transcribe the following account of this celebrated structure.

“Of the surviving edifices at Rome, the principal is the Pantheon itself. It still retains its majestic portico, and presents its graceful dome uninjured; the pavement laid by Agrippa and trodden by Augustus, still forms its floor; the compartments, and fluted pillars of rich marble, that originally lined its walls, still adorn its inward circumference; the deep tints that age has thrown over it, only contribute to raise our dignity and augment our veneration; and the traveller enters its portal, through which thrice twenty generations have flowed in succession, with a mixture of awe and religious veneration. Yet the Pantheon has suffered greatly during the last eighteen centuries. The flight of steps that conducted to its threshold, the marbles that clothed it, the statues that graced its cornice, the bronze that blazed on its dome, that vaulted its portico, and formed its sculptured doors, and the silver that lined the compartments of its roof within, and dazzled the spectator with its brightness, all have disappeared.”

My observations on this interesting city having extended themselves beyond my expectation, I shall decline entering into any description of the society and manners of its inhabitants, as also of the state of the arts and science of modern Rome, since these points have been so frequently and ably treated of by other authors.

Having now partaken freely of the rich intellectual feast, which this venerable city affords, I prepared, in the first instance, to return to Florence, getting my passport signed for that purpose, and arranging with an intelligent friend, the Reverend ⸺ C⸺, to have the pleasure of accompanying him to that city; but the nearer the moment of our proposed departure approached, the more intense did I find an inclination to visit Naples. This disposition was confirmed by the opinion of Dr. Clarke, that the sulphurous vapour-baths of that place would be serviceable to my health, although he strictly urged me not to continue there longer than a month, in order to escape the injurious effects of the malaria arising from the Pontine marshes, which would after that time become aggravated by the heats of summer, and to which I must have been exposed on my return, in case I should take the land route through Rome; it is true they might have been avoided, by making a sea voyage to Leghorn, as I in some measure contemplated.

Having thus been induced to alter my arrangements, I had my passports made out accordingly, and secured my place in a cabriolet, which was to set out on the following morning.

I was provided with some letters of introduction, and amongst the rest, one to Mr. C⸺, a gentleman whom I afterwards felt assured, as it proved, had been a most intimate friend of my own some years before, at which time we crossed the Atlantic together from North America to England. I was delighted with the supposed recognition, and in the sequel it will be seen, that the renewal of our friendship proved most gratifying, and advantageous to me.

CHAP. XVII.

JOURNEY TO NAPLES.

Taking our leave of Rome early on the morning of the first of May, we reached Albano for breakfast, distant sixteen miles. Our party from Rome, besides myself, consisted of an Italian gentleman, a German, and a Frenchman; we were also accompanied by a lady, said to be a princess, and attended by a handsome man-servant; after breakfast we received another and our last passenger, who was a Roman officer. My companion in the cabriolet was the German, whom I took to be an artist, but who was by no means communicative, although he had some knowledge of the French, and a perfect one of the Italian language.

At four o’clock we reached Veletri, where it was intended we should rest for the night; but, notwithstanding this early hour, we were not indulged with supper until eight o’clock, and then it was too scanty to satisfy our hunger, I believe in consequence of the arrival of two English ladies, shortly before it was served up for us. In the interim, we amused ourselves with exploring the city, which my companions reported to be a fine old town, but neglected, and thinly inhabited. After supper, I retired to the hardest bed which I have met with on my tour; but passengers in voitures are not to consider themselves entitled to the best apartments; the Roman officer, Frenchman and myself, slept in one room; the princess and her servant, I was informed, occupied another; while the German was probably quartered with the vittureno.

In the morning at five o’clock, we left Veletri; and, as it was fine, I walked some distance in company with the German. We had now to travel along the famous Via Appia, originally a paved causeway extending from Rome to Capua, and constructed by Appius Claudius the censor, in the year of Rome, 441; the original bed still remains perfect in various places. We soon, at the village of Cisterna, entered upon the Pontine marshes, formed by an accumulation of the waters from various streams arising on the neighbouring mountains, and prevented from running off, by a want of declivity in the ground, so as to constitute a swampy fen, formerly thirty miles in length and eight broad, and which is still in some degree, a fertile source of infectious miasma, which not unfrequently spreads disease and destruction into the very heart of the capital itself. Through many centuries, the whole energies of the Roman people, under their various consuls, emperors, and pontiffs, were in vain called into action to drain them; the glory of success was reserved for the late Pope Pius VI. who, in the year 1788, effectually removed this scourge of Rome. The Appian road runs through the middle of these marshes, bounded on the sides by canals, and shaded by double rows of elms and poplars. In the middle of the marshes we stopped to breakfast about eleven o’clock, at a very poor inn. Soon after which a carriage arrived containing the two English ladies who had slept at Veletri at the same inn where we did; but as they had taken breakfast previous to their departure, they were not induced to leave their carriage.

About two or three miles before arriving at Terracina, we passed the celebrated fountain of Feronia, situated within a few paces of the road, and where the goddess of that name, formerly had a temple dedicated to her, but which has now disappeared,—not a vestige,—not even a stone remaining; while the once sacred grove by which it was surrounded, has dwindled away; one single tree hanging a solitary mourner over the violated fountain. It was here, that this goddess of liberty, and _donatrix_ of personal freedom, bestowed the boon of emancipation upon the slaves of ancient Rome, and which was confirmed by peculiar ceremonies performed at her altar. The divinity of the place—unlike its temple—imperishable and immortal—has taken flight to a more genial soil, from whence it is diffusing blessings over the greater portion of a once suffering world. Yes! Spirit of Liberty!

“⸺the Britannia’s isles adores.”
⸺
“Oh! could I worship ought beneath the skies,
That Earth has seen, or Fancy could devise,
Thine altar, sacred Liberty! should stand,
Built by no mercenary, vulgar hand,
With fragrant turf, and flow’rs as wild and fair
As ever dress’d a bank, or scented summer air.”—COWPER.

We arrived at Terracina at eight o’clock, and at five in the morning recommenced our journey. After travelling five or six miles, we crossed the barriers between the Roman and Neapolitan states, where our passports were examined by the commandant of a small fort placed there. After this, the country expands itself into the vale of Fondi, the mountains retiring in such way, as to form a beautiful amphitheatre, richly clothed with luxuriant and diversified woods. Our road passed through the middle of this vale; a fine lake formed by the waters of innumerable mountain streams, which run through the plain, bounding it on the right,—beyond which lay the sea.

At Fondi, a small town situated in the above vale, the Appian road exists in its original state, composed of broad rough flag stones closely laid together, but without any cement interposed between them. The town of Fondi, like most southern towns, has a gloomy appearance, in consequence of the narrowness of the streets, and unglazed state of the windows. We now passed through Castelone, and after descending a steep hill, reached Mola de Gaieta, where we breakfasted at an excellent inn, delightfully situated, and commanding a fine view of the sea. Near this place, on the right of the road, we passed an ancient tower, said to be the tomb of Cicero, erected on the spot where he was murdered.

“Mola is in itself an insignificant place, but it derives interest, if not grandeur from its beautiful site; it consists of one street, formed by the Via Appia on the side, at the foot of a range of broken picturesque hills and mountains, covered with corn, vines, and olive-trees, and topped with rocks, churches, and towers. The waters that stream from these hills, unite and gush forth in a fountain close to the town. The most conspicuous and striking object from the town of Mola, is the fortress of Gaieta, crowning the rocky promontory of the same name, with its white ramparts and batteries.”

On leaving Gaieta, we passed over the river Garigliano by means of a wooden bridge. Our road after this, lay through the defiles of Mount Massicus, which communicates with those of Callicula, a mountain covered with forests, and we reached St. Agado about seven in the evening, when we took up our quarters for the night; here I was compelled to sleep in the same room with a man whom we had accidentally taken up on the road, and to which, being satisfied he was an indifferent, character, I at first strenuously objected, but finding I could get no other accommodation, I at length acceded, on condition that a third bed in the room should be also occupied; which was then filled by the servant of the Italian lady.

We set out from St. Agado at four o’clock in the morning, and at ten reached Capua for breakfast; here our vittureno drove us into the stable-yard, and left us to get our breakfast where we could, for the inn was fully occupied by Austrian officers, who were quartered at this place: there was no resource, but to put up with a bad breakfast at a miserable coffee-house.

We were informed, that an English carriage had been stopped by banditti the preceding evening, about a post on the other side of St. Agado, one of the horses shot dead, and their courier wounded; but the robbers becoming alarmed, took to flight before they had secured their booty. We congratulated ourselves upon an escape, having passed over the same ground only two hours before this actually occurred.

Capua is a small unimportant town, distinct from the ancient city of that name, which was situated at some distance, where remains of an amphitheatre are still visible, and which before the building of that of Vespasian, was considered superior to any in Rome itself; indeed old Capua is said, at one time, to have vied with Rome and Carthage themselves, in size and magnificence. It was here that the victorious army of Hannibal, is said to have been enervated by the luxuries of Italy. The alliance which this fated city formed with the Carthaginians, in opposition to its former mistress, proved its ruin; in the spirit of insulted majesty and retributive justice, it was besieged by the Consular armies. In vain did Hannibal exert his high military talents for the relief of his new friends; he could not force the Romans to abandon the siege, and at length the unfortunate Capuans were compelled to bow under the yoke of their conquerors.

Capua is distant sixteen miles from Naples, the intermediate country comprising one of the most fertile tracts of Italy, upon which nature has abundantly lavished her beauties and advantages.

About half way to Naples, we passed through the neat and modern town of Averso, remarkable for having one of the best regulated and most interesting lunatic asylums in the world, the results of which, as tending to the restoration of the patients, have been most felicitous. The system of treatment embraces an extended plan of amusement, of which the charms of _music_ form an important feature.

“There is a charm, a pow’r that sways the breast,
Bids every passion revel and be still;
Inspires with rage, or all your cares dissolves;
Can soothe distraction, and almost despair;
That pow’r is music.”—ARMSTRONG.

We reached Naples about four o’clock in the afternoon, and after the customary formalities of examining the baggage and passports, the former of which was much facilitated by some trifling pecuniary arguments, we were allowed to proceed to our respective quarters.

CHAP. XVIII.

NAPLES.

“Vedi Napoli e po mori,[1]” says a patriotic proverb of the country, in which I was now residing; for the good people flatter themselves there is nothing in the world worth seeing afterward: a farther instance of their national partiality is contained in another adage, expressive of the following sentiment: “When a Neapolitan is out of humour, he has only to open his window and look at his country, to restore his complacency.” And yet, alas! how wretchedly have these people defended that country!

[1] “See Naples and then die.”

Whatever might be the sensations with which I was affected on entering this city, produced by my conceptions of its beauty and magnificence, I could not avoid feeling rejoiced, at the circumstance of having reached in safety, this boundary of my proposed pilgrimage, and the _ne plus ultra_ of the generality of European travellers. But it was some time before I could get comfortable accommodations. Our driver probably imagining I should not be able to _see_ into his stratagem, took every other passenger to his destined point, before he would attend to myself, because the Largo Castello, to which I had directed him, happened to be near his own quarters; consequently, it was six o’clock before I arrived, and then I had the mortification to find the house too full to receive me. I was compelled to search for apartments elsewhere, and only with great difficulty at length succeeded, and was happy, after taking refreshment, to get into a more comfortable bed than I had met with since I left Rome.

Naples, or Napoli, was originally called Parthenope, a name said to have been given by the Phœnicians, in consequence of its delightful situation. This city is so ancient, that its original foundation is involved in the obscurity of the earliest periods. It is reported to have been founded by the Argonauts, thirteen centuries before the Christian era, and afterwards strengthened and enriched, by colonies from Rhodes, Athens, and Chalcis.

The impression I received on entering this city, was that of commercial importance, from the bustle and confusion which I heard in some of the streets through which we passed: but as all strangers are, in the first instance, forcibly struck by the beauty of its situation, and magnificent appearance, I cannot do better than quote the description given of it by a favourite author, Dr. Moore.

“Naples is supposed to be founded by the Greeks. The charming situation they have chosen, is one proof among thousands of the fine taste of that ingenious people.

“The bay is about thirty miles in circumference, and twelve in diameter; it has been named Crater, from its supposed resemblance to a bowl. This bowl is ornamented with the most beautiful foliage, with vines, with olives, mulberry and orange-trees, with hills, dales, towns, villas, and villages.

“At the bottom of the bay of Naples, the town is built in the form of an amphitheatre, sloping from the hills towards the sea.

“If, from the town, you turn your eyes to the east, you see the rich plains leading to Mount Vesuvius and Portici. If you look to the west, you have the grotto of Pausilippo, the mountain on which Virgil’s tomb is placed, the fields leading to Puzzoli, and the coast of Baia. On the north, are the fertile hills, gradually rising from the shore to the Campagna Felice. On the south is the bay, confined by the two promontaries of Misenum and Minerva; the view being terminated by the island of Procida, Ischia, and Caprea; and as you ascend to the castle of St. Elmo, which is situated on a mountain of the same name, you have all these objects under your eye at once, with the addition of a great part of the Campagna.

“Independent of its happy situation, Naples is a very beautiful city. The style of architecture it may be confessed, is superior to what prevails at Rome; but though Naples cannot vie with that city, in the number of palaces, or in the grandeur or magnificence of the churches, the private houses, in general, are better built, and more uniformly convenient; the streets are broader, and better paved. No street in Rome equals in beauty the Strada di Toledo at Naples; and still less can any of them be compared with those beautiful streets which open to the bay. This is the native country of the Zephyrs; here the excessive heat of the sun is often tempered with sea breezes, and with gales, wafting the perfumes of the Campagna Felice.

“The houses in general are five or six stories high, and flat at the top; on which are placed numbers of flower vases, or fruit-trees, in boxes of earth, producing a very gay and agreeable effect.

“The garrison stationed at the fortress of St. Elmo have the entire command of the town, and could lay it in ashes at pleasure, being built on the mountain of the same name. A little lower on the same mountain is a convent of Carthusians. The situation of this convent is as advantageous and beautiful as can be imagined; and much expense has been lavished to render the building, the apartments, and the gardens, equal to the situation.”

On the morning which succeeded my arrival, (Saturday, March 5th), after engaging a _servitore de piazza_, and delivering some letters of introduction, I had the good fortune to arrange with one gentleman, Dr. K⸺, whom I called upon with the latter view, to be accommodated with apartments in his house; and farther, we agreed to mess together, whenever it suited our convenience to dine at home; under which arrangement, we continued to live in all possible harmony, during the remainder of my stay in Naples.

As the doctor dined out on the following day, I preferred taking my repast at a trattoria’s, called the Villa de Paregi, and had the unexpected pleasure of being placed between two gentlemen, brothers, whom I had known at Nice. Unfortunately, they were quitting Naples that evening: I spent, however, a couple of hours very agreeably with them, at their lodgings.

In the course of my walk on the following day, I met my friend Lady C⸺ with Miss L⸺, and afterwards dined with Dr. K⸺ at the Villa di Roma, where I had the gratification of finding Count K⸺ whom I have before mentioned, as well as two or three other acquaintances. I was much pleased with the situation of this trattoria’s house. It stands by the sea-side, in that part of Naples termed Santa Lucia; there is a room built directly over the sea, where one not only enjoys the refreshing breeze, but also the additional cooling sensation of the waves under-foot. The entertainment of the house is excellently good, and after taking refreshment, it is delightful to walk by the sea-side, or a boat may be had to sail upon the bay if it is preferred.

On the next day, Mr. C⸺, the gentleman whom I have mentioned as being acquainted with formerly in America, called upon me. I had been at his house, but did not find him at home; I left however, my letter of introduction. This reminds me of some lines of one of the most pleasing poets of our day, whose society I have had the pleasure of enjoying, written under somewhat similar circumstances.

“Tho’ late the word of friendship came,
Thanks be to him who said it;
Impatient of the tardy claim,
Your friend was mine—before he read it.”

We walked together to the Grotto del Piede, and I had the pleasure, and I may say advantage, of finding him, in addition to his original stock of general information, become a most intelligent and agreeable Ciceroni. We measured the entrance of the grotto, and found it seven good paces; it extends in length, nearly a mile through the mountain, to its termination on the other side. At certain points in the tunnel are apertures, which admit an imperfect light from above; the deficiency is supplied by tapers placed near the centre, which at the same time serve to illuminate a figure of the Virgin Mary.

After my walk I took an artificial sulphur bath, and in the evening drank from the spring at St. Lucia, which is impregnated with sulphuretted hydrogen; I proposed continuing this plan occasionally during my residence here. After this, I dined with Lady C⸺, and in the evening took a drive with the family on the Strada Nuova.

I had arranged with Mr. C⸺ to accompany him, and two Neapolitan gentlemen, to the royal palace at Caserta, which we had the prospect of seeing to advantage, as the king was yet at Rome, and his chief agent at that place, brother to one of our companions. We fixed on Saturday the 12th for our excursion. We left Naples between four and five in the morning, and arrived at Caserta about eight o’clock, being distance of fifteen miles. In the first place, we inspected a smaller palace at St. Lucia, about a mile distant from the large one, where his Majesty generally resides in perfect retirement. The house is small, and by no means well furnished; but in one room we noticed one of the greatest luxuries of a hot climate, a marble bath, twelve or fourteen feet square, and railed round, with little gates leading to the steps by which you descend into it. We did not prolong our stay at this palace, which contains little worth seeing, but retiring to the house of our companion’s brother, were regaled with an excellent breakfast, but rather a peculiar one; the first part consisted of eggs, cream and other cheeses, with radishes, rolls and butter, and excellent wines; after which, coffee was introduced, and then a variety of fresh and preserved fruits, with two kinds of the finest _liqueurs_, one of which was said to be only made at the convent of St. Rosa, probably by the hands of fair nuns, at least, whether this was the case or not, the idea gave an additional zest to the _gout_. It may seem inconsistent, that nuns and monks should employ themselves in the composition of any thing to intoxicate the brain, and contribute to gross and worldly enjoyments; but, I believe, it is almost to them exclusively, that we are indebted for the introduction of aqua vita, and other strong liquors, one of the earliest receipts for making which will be found in the Rosa Anglica of John of Gaddesden, a celebrated medical monk, and the first court physician appointed in England, at the time of Edward the Second; John is, however, so cautious respecting it, that he begs the secret may neither be divulged to women or laymen, or the delicious compound tasted by them, unless a handsome fee has been first paid for the gratification.

After breakfast we visited the king’s manufactory of silks and velvets, in which eight hundred persons are employed; the works and spinning machines are conducted upon similar principles with those of Lyons and Spitalfields; in short, the director has passed some years at both these places, in order to attain a thorough acquaintance with the various processes. As far as I could judge, the quality and texture of the articles manufactured here, were equal to any I had examined in England or France. The larger wheels are, however, not put into motion by the action of steam or water, but by two women walking within them. The manufacturers reside in the adjoining village of Santa Lucia, and are regulated by particular laws, and have privileges different from what are possessed in any other parts of the kingdom, and which were given them by the present king in his own hand-writing.

We now proceeded through the royal grounds, which are abundantly stocked with game of every kind, to San Sylvestre, where is the king’s dairy, and a small house, called his hunting box, situated in the middle of a beautiful park well planted with the chesnut, and fine young oaks. After this we visited the gardens, stored with the choicest fruit-trees, and ornamented with flowers of every description. We here found, as guards, two beautiful mastiffs, who were said to be in royal pay, each receiving six ducats per month, which is wholly expended in provisions for them, as they happen to require no other clothing than what nature has liberally provided.

After this we passed through a woody walk to the cascade, formed by the waters from the Ponte Madeloni, six miles distant, which I shall hereafter describe. This cascade issuing from a reservoir situated on an eminence termed Gazzano, is precipitated into a plain, where, formed into a long straight canal well stocked with mullet, and losing its rapidity, it is conducted by a succession of artificial falls to the palace; from whence it is conveyed by pipes under-ground to Naples, affording a supply of the best water which that city possesses.

After a most delightful walk, enhanced by the fineness of the day, we reached the palace of Caserta, said to be the largest royal residence in Europe, and which we found a truly noble and magnificent structure. The building comprises nearly a square, and as the kitchens and offices are under-ground, there is as much contained beneath, as above the surface. After passing through a magnificent hall, we ascended a marble staircase, fine without a parallel, the massy balustrade composed of the richest workmanship, and of the whitest marble, said to be taken from an ancient temple near Naples. The entrance upon the staircase on each side is guarded by a lion of the same description of marble.

At the head of the first flight of stairs, apartments branch off in different directions, which, however, were only slightly furnished. The first room we entered was a chapel, most elegantly although only partially fitted up. After this we were ushered into a suit of spacious saloons and bed-chambers, with baths, &c.

The ground-floor contains a beautiful theatre, on the model of the present one of St. Carlos, and so contrived as to admit of a side being thrown open, to exhibit the natural scenery of the country around. This palace also has a circular road from the bottom to the top, to allow the king to ride up or down at pleasure.

Our time was too short, to enable us to take more than a cursory view of this immense pile of building, as we had determined to visit the aqueduct of Madeloni, before our return to Naples, and which was some miles out of the direct road.

The palace of Caserta was commenced by Charles III. of Spain, in the year 1757, under the celebrated architect Vanvitelli, and is not complete at the present day. I shall finish my account of it with the following description from Dr. Moore.

“This palace is built on a plain where ancient Capua stood. It was thought prudent to found a building, on which such sums of money were to be lavished, at a considerable distance from Mount Vesuvius. It were to be wished, that the contents of the cabinet of Portici were removed from the same dangerous neighbourhood. That he might not be limited in ground for the gardens, may have been his Spanish majesty’s motive for choosing that his palace should be at a distance from Naples; and that it might not be exposed to insult from an enemy’s fleet, was probably the reason that determined him to place it at a distance from the sea.

“This immense building is of a rectangular form, seven hundred and fifty English feet, by five hundred and eighty; about one hundred and twelve feet high, comprehending five habitable stories, which contain such a number of apartments as will accommodate the most numerous court without any accessary buildings.

“The rectangle is divided into four courts, each of about two hundred and fifty-two feet, by one hundred and seventy. In each of the two principal fronts, are three corresponding gates, forming three openings, which pierce the whole building. The middle gate forms the entry to a magnificent portico, through which the coaches drive. In the middle of that, and in the centre of the edifice, there is a vestibule, of an octagonal form, which opens into the four grand courts at four sides of the octagon; two other sides open into the portico, one to the staircase; and at the eighth side there is a statue of Hercules crowned by victory with this inscription;

VIRTUS POST FORTIA FACTA CORONAT.

The grand staircase is adorned with the richest marble; the upper vestibule to which you ascend by the grand staircase, is an octagon also, and surrounded by twenty-four pillars of yellow marble, each of which is one piece of eighteen feet high, without including the pedestals or capital.”

After quitting the palace, we were detained some time by dinner at the village of Caserta, and which our exertions had made indispensable; after this we visited the governor, a friend of one of our companions, who received us with politeness, and paid a high compliment to the discipline and bravery of the British army, which he had witnessed in Calabria and Sicily.

We did not arrive at the Aqueduct before the evening began to close in, and our driver, in consequence of the risk of banditti, became solicitous for our returning to Naples, now seventeen miles distant. We descended however from our carriage, and walked under one of the arches, followed by a number of beggars and Ciceroni. This wonderful structure consists of three rows of arches, elevated over each other, and filling up an extensive chasm between two approximating mountains, over which it conveys a whole river of the purest water, the channel for which is about four feet wide, and covered over by an excellent road of sufficient breadth to allow carriages of every description to pass.

The lower tier consists of nineteen, the second of twenty-seven, and the upper one of forty-three arches, and the whole built of brick from the designs of Vanvitelli, in magnitude and effect surpassing all similar works of ancient or modern construction. Of the former we may in some measure gain an estimate by drawing a comparison between the present and the famous Roman aqueduct, the Pont de Guard near Nismes, of which I may give the following description.

“It was raised in the Augustan age, by the Roman colony, at Nismes, to convey a stream of water between two mountains, for the use of that city. It stands over the river Gardon, which is a beautiful pastoral stream, roaring among rocks, which form a number of pretty natural cascades, and over-shadowed on each side with trees and shrubs, which greatly add to the rural beauties of the scene. This work consists of three bridges, or tier of arches, one over another; the first of six, the second of eleven, and the third of thirty-six. The height, comprehending the aqueduct at the top, amounts to one hundred and forty-seven feet three inches; and the length between the two mountains which it unites, extends to 723 feet. The order of the architecture is the Tuscan, but the symmetry of it is inconceivable.”

Thus it will be seen that the Ponte di Madeloni loses nothing in comparison, as respects its height, and length, and number of arches, in all of which points it exceeds the Pont de Guard; as to architectural qualities, I must leave it to better judges to determine, which of the two has the advantage.

My friend C⸺ was so delighted with the beauty and magnificence of this aqueduct, that we could not induce him to leave it, until the obscurity of evening made a longer stay unavailing; when we commenced our return to Naples. On our way we had some reason to think the driver’s fears not altogether groundless, as when within four miles of the city, we were surprised by three fellows making their appearance upon a heath, who followed the carriage for some distance, and kept looking at us as if to reconnoitre our force. One of them even attempted to spring up behind the carriage, but my friend C⸺ calling out loudly in the Italian language, he desisted, and with his companions made off immediately. We certainly acted imprudently in travelling near Naples at so late an hour, for although the city was kept quiet by Austrian troops, it was well known, that numbers of disbanded soldiers, and discontented peasantry, were spread all over the country. We did not arrive at Naples until half after ten o’clock, when I went immediately to my lodgings, leaving my companion to settle the customary dispute of fare with the coachman; and which I understood was not concluded until midnight, and then terminated in our paying a dollar more than had been stipulated for.

CHAP. XIX.

NAPLES.

During my residence in this city I frequently walked on the delightful promenade of the Villa Reale, which happened to be near my lodgings in the Strada Bassiniana, and in the vicinity of Santa Lucia and the Caio, two places, which for strangers, are preferable to any other part of Naples.