capital of the civilized world, or if you will, the point of union; for
I wish to give it influence, not authority. It seems to me that such a
centre would be extremely desirable; that Rome would be the best place
for it; and that the head of the government of such an intellectual
capital ought to be a _religious_, if I may make such a substantive; but
that nevertheless it ought to be a free government; and I am prepared to
prove logically against all the world, these four propositions, and some
others connected with them; but since I am persuaded that neither you
nor any body else would attend to my arguments, I may as well spare
myself the trouble of writing them. Yet I do not think it such a
visionary scheme; and if I were pope, I would instantly set about it.
The character of pride, which I have attributed to the Roman, is much in
favour of my plan; gratified by considering himself as belonging to the
first city in the universe, he is more willing than most other people to
see a stranger flourishing beside him, because he feels it in some
degree a tribute to the pre-eminence of his native place. Rome has
always been famous for the illustrious strangers she has adopted, rather
than for the talents of her own citizens, and it is surely more
honourable thus to naturalize, than to produce great men; the latter
seems a matter of chance, the former to depend on the generous feelings
of the inhabitants.
To succeed in such a plan, Rome must be free; this perhaps is the most
important condition of any. It is very striking to observe the desolate
state of many cities in Italy—once populous, powerful, and flourishing;
now spiritless, and half-inhabited.[20] Their time of prosperity was one
of wars without, and tumult within. Their decay has taken place under a
government comparatively mild; they are neither attacked by external
enemies, nor torn to pieces by internal dissensions. Added to this, the
old governments were radically bad, they were alternately aristocratical
and democratical; both forms, which when used unmixed, as was remarkably
the case in Italy, are essentially vicious, because they seek the good
of a part only. The true idea of a republic is that whose object is the
whole, where every existing rank, from the prince to the artisan and
peasant, has its due share of influence and equal protection; and the
representative government of England is doubtless that which approaches
nearest to this _beau ideal_. Yet bad as they were, there was freedom
enough in these Italian cities to counterbalance, and more than
counterbalance, the numerous evils to which they were exposed. He who
reads Gibbon with attention may observe effects of arbitrary power, and
bad institutions, in the decline, not of the Roman empire, but of Italy,
under the reign of Constantine, while she was yet uninjured by
barbarians; or if his curiosity, and his patience will support him
through the pages of Denina, he may there find this idea more fully
dwelt upon, though the author is a professed and decided advocate of
arbitrary power, thinking,
Che assoluto, dispotico governo
`E buono per l’estate, e per l’inverno.
But you will perhaps tell me that however desirable liberty may be in
other cases, yet that where the head of the government is also the head
of the Roman Catholic church, the government _must_ be despotic, because
the character of the religious institutions requires it. You are
mistaken. The Roman pontiff during the middle ages was, on the general
system of policy, the friend of liberty, and of the people; he was
driven from home, tossed about by the potentates whom he offended,
stript at times of almost every thing, yet his influence and authority
increased during these vicissitudes, and declined when prudential
motives led him to become the tool of other sovereigns. The rule of
faith has generally been narrowed to please them, and not him. If he
would regain his consequence, he must again be the advocate of rational
freedom, mental and bodily, religious and political; his monks must be
collections of men of learning and talent; he must suppress his beggars,
who obtain more contempt than riches. The circumstances of the times are
such, that the most magnanimous conduct is the truest policy. The purest
morality and the most enlightened religion are precisely the means by
which he could obtain the greatest influence. Religion would very soon
take a new tone with free institutions; several practices would be
altered, and many abuses would gradually fall, but in all this the only
care of the pope would be, not to identify himself with the falling
parts of the system. Men are generally willing enough to separate the
persons, and legitimate authority of their rulers, from the abuses of
the government, if their superiors will let them. I doubt if confession
would stand, though Voltaire praises the institution. No man ought in
any degree to be released from the responsibility of his own actions;
the introduction of rational liberty necessarily brings with it a higher
tone of moral feeling. In despotic governments the will of the master
gets confounded with the moral law, and this is encouraged by confession
to a priest, whose system seems to include the support of all arbitrary
governments. Inspiration, and the power of working miracles, would be
canvassed as they are in England. Purgatory would probably give way, at
least we should not see such notices as the following:
“Chi visiterà questa Ven. Basilica de’Ss Cosimo e Damiano nelle Giorni
qui notate, confessato e communicato, acquisterà Indulgenza plenaria,
come per rescritto di Nostro Signore Papa Pio settimo li 23 Decembre,
1808.”
Then follows a list of twenty-eight days.
“Indulgenza plenaria alla Capella di S. Antonio in uno de’ Martedì di
ciascuna mese del anno da eleggersi ad arbitrio di chiunque confessato e
communicato.
“E più.
“Sette Anni ed altre tante quarantine d’indulgenza in tutti gli altri
Martedì dell’ anno.”
The Italians, especially those of the Roman states, do not seem very
well contented with their present political situation. They are
discontented with the pope because they have had bad crops since his
return. This year the wheat harvest has been excellent, the grapes are
abundant and good, the olives show the fairest promise; these things
will no doubt have their effect on the political feelings of the
commonalty, but the maize is likely to be deficient, and the poor pope
will have the blame. You will think it perhaps too much of a sneer, if I
were to say, that as the pope does pretend to have some influence in the
government of the world, discontent on such accounts is more reasonable
under him, than it would be under a secular prince. But there can be no
doubt that the superstition, so carefully preserved among the Italians,
renders an association of that sort more easy. Accustomed to consider
every thing that happens as a judgment or a miracle, taught to believe
that weather favourable to their wishes, and good harvests, are the
result of ceremonies and processions, how can they fail to attribute the
bad to similar causes, and to imagine a defective year, to be a
consequence of the displeasure of the Almighty against their rulers. The
cessation of the conscription also produced a bad effect rather than a
good one, in occasioning discontent. It was less oppressive in Italy
than in France, and though productive of great misery to individuals and
families, and probably of great demoralization, it nevertheless would
have taken off a great many mouths which now eat and rail at home. Then,
though the French government taxed heavily, yet it spent liberally. Now,
the taxes are still heavier, and the expenses greatly reduced; the
produce, according to common report, going to Austria, but I do not
understand why.
The bad air of Rome and of the Campagna have I suspect been greatly
exaggerated. In the latter, there seems to be a want of wholesome water:
Rome is abundantly supplied, and this is perhaps partly the reason why
the city is more wholesome than the country. Another source of disease
is to be sought in the nature of the food eaten by the poor. When a man
breakfasts on cucumbers, dines on melons, and sups on love-apples, what
has he to support him? In the spring, they have, instead of these,
purslain, artichokes, and lettuces. Fruit is dearer at Rome than at
Bologna, but vegetables are good and plentiful. A lady, last night, was
complaining that she could only get fifteen pauls for a cart load of
lettuces, forty-five pauls being equal to a pound sterling. A mass of
artichokes, consisting of twenty-six, cost this spring two bajocs. They
are small, and being boiled till they are soft, are eaten whole.
Love-apples have sometimes been sold as low as twelve pounds for a
bajoc. Wheaten bread at the same time bears about two thirds of the
price it does in England. Polenta is cheaper, but the temptation is
great to fill the belly with a food, which if less wholesome, is more
savoury, as well as at a lower price.
LETTER XLIII.
NAPLES.
_Rome, 28th September, 1817._
I DO not know if you are tired of Rome, but I know that I am not. Rome
is the paradise of artists; it is full of their objects and their
recollections; but what most contributes to make the residence in Italy
in general, and of Rome in particular, so interesting to us, is the
universal sympathy which is accorded to the objects of our pursuit. From
the prince to the peasant, the most educated to the most ignorant, all
seem to find pleasure in the productions of the fine arts; and it is
this sympathy which more than any one thing makes life pass agreeably;
the want of it is always distressing. Why have heretics been burnt, but
because they wanted sympathy with the people? Or at least the people
believing that to be the case, has had no sympathy with them. What is it
but the supposed want of sympathy which makes the populace so hostile to
bakers and corndealers? It imagines them to rejoice in that dearness of
provisions which is a cause of suffering to the poor, and it therefore
considers them with aversion. But I have got to moralizing, when I
should be giving an account of my journey here. The first steps are to
get a passport, and a certificate of health; no questions are asked on
demanding the latter, and all you have to do is to pay a few bajocs. It
seems that there has been some suspicion of a contagious disease at
Naples, and the Roman government has consequently required a certificate
of health from all persons coming from Naples. By way of reprisal, the
Neapolitan government now requires a similar certificate with all those
coming from Rome. The vetturino as usual disappointed me as to the time
of departure, but on the 26th of August we left Rome. I cannot boast
much of the pleasantness of the party, with a wrongheaded driver, a
foolish papa and mamma, and a spoilt child. Some of the scenes between
the father and child were so disgusting, that I shall not venture to put
them on paper. The former told me that he had educated the boy according
to the system of an English author named Baloxello, who taught that a
child should never be contradicted. Besides these there was a Frenchman,
who was very pleasant and good-humoured; but he had loaded the carriage
with a quantity of merchandize, and this was the source of considerable
trouble and delay at the customhouses. In the cabriolet were two
Englishmen, of whom I saw little.
We slept the first night at Velletri, and were stopt the next morning at
Cisterna with the story of a postillion who had been murdered the night
before, in crossing the Pontine Marshes. The passenger within the
carriage had escaped with the loss of a considerable sum of money, but
the poor postillion, perhaps because he had not stopt immediately when
ordered, or perhaps without any preceding salutation, had three bullets
in his body. The horse on which he rode was also killed. The bystanders
recommended us to take a guard, and our vetturino was very eager to
persuade us to do so, but we reflected that there could be no danger in
broad daylight, when the whole country was alarmed, and when besides,
the robbers had plenty of money; and we proceeded without one. The body
of the postillion was lying on the road, whence it seems that it could
not be moved, till the appointed officer had been to examine it. The
traveller had certainly been very imprudent in crossing the marshes
without a guard in the dark, especially as he was known to carry money;
and perhaps still more so to stop and sup, as he did, at a miserable
little inn on the way. We stopt (but in the day) at the same place, and
I could not help reflecting that I was perhaps in the very room where
the robbery of the night before had been planned, and every thing
prepared for its execution. The air across these marshes is delightfully
soft and pleasant, but I felt no more disposition to sleep than I always
do, when after early rising, I am travelling through a flat country. The
Frenchman however, was determined we should not sleep, and by the help
of talking, and a bottle of _vinaigre des quatre voleurs_, he gained his
point as to those within the carriage, but the Englishmen in the
cabriolet slept, and felt no inconvenience. I have met them several
times at Naples, and it seems one of them has had something of an ague,
but not immediately after the journey. The scenery for the greatest part
of the way across these celebrated marshes is very pleasant; it is more
like travelling through the New Forest, than across Romney Marsh; and
the distant mountains present a feature of beauty which neither of these
possesses. A brisk, transparent stream ran sometimes on one side of us,
sometimes on the other, and sometimes bounded both sides of the road.
The wild vine clambered over the tops of the trees, and hung in graceful
festoons from branch to branch. Maize seemed the chief object of
cultivation, and the plants looked remarkably strong and healthy. We
stopped for the night at Terracina, a very picturesque situation. The
inn is on the shore, together with the customhouse, and a few other
buildings, while the city is on a hill just by. I ran up to see the
remains of a temple, which are now built up in the walls of the
cathedral. They consist of two fusts of Corinthian columns, and a
portion of wall, with an ornamented fascia; all raised over a high
continued basement. The cathedral also exhibits internally some detached
columns, and other fragments of antiquity. There are also remains of
Cyclopean walls, but nothing of much consequence. On a much higher and
bolder eminence are the walls of the ancient Anxur, but this I had no
time to visit. About Terracina we first meet with myrtles, and the
vegetation assumes a different character, indicative of a warmer
climate. This arises partly from the change of soil, from the volcanic
deposits of the neighbourhood of Rome, to a limestone rock; and partly
perhaps from our proximity to the sea, as well as from the more southern
latitude. Our vetturino had engaged to set off at two o’clock in the
morning, but as he had fixed the same time the night before, and was not
himself ready till past four, I concluded that the same thing would
happen again. After we had separated, the Italian sent down a private
message that he would not set off before daybreak. The next morning,
when at a little after four we were all ready to depart, the vetturino
declared that in consequence of this delay, he should be a day later at
Naples, and that he would not set off at all, unless we would agree to
pay; not only our own expenses, but his and his horses for the
additional night. To this the Italian, who had with some difficulty been
brought to confess the message, would not agree, and of course none of
the other passengers would undertake it. On the contrary, I assured him
that far from paying any thing additional, I would not even pay him the
remainder of my agreement, unless he would so far fulfil his part, as to
take me to Naples in four days at the latest. The terms of our agreement
were that he should do it in three days and a half. At last, finding the
case hopeless, he put to, but it was past five before we left Terracina.
We had another quarrel at the Torre del Epitaffio, where one of the
police-officers insisted on putting a great water-melon into the
cabriolet, which rolling against the legs of the passengers, would have
been no pleasant companion. They expostulated, moderately at first, then
angrily, and at last tossed out the melon, which falling on the hard
road was broken to pieces. A great storm ensued, but it had no
consequences. On our first entering the Neapolitan territory, the road
is delightful, coasting the foot of the calcareous mountains of the
Volsci. On the right, we have sometimes the sea, sometimes a varied
valley, from which the projecting parts of the coast rise in detached
points, and appear almost to form a chain of islands. The gardens,
filled with large orange-trees, growing in all their native beauty of
form, constitute a striking feature in the approach to Fondi. At that
city, the Neapolitan custom-house detained us more than two hours. The
next place is Itri, a very picturesque town, where there are Cyclopean
walls. In approaching to Mola di Gaeta, the Sepulchre of Cicero is
pointed out to us; a frustum of a cone of rubble-work rises on a square
basement, which has been faced with large squared stones. The original
summit has been destroyed, and a circular tower of the middle ages
occupies its place; unfortunately, the evidence is not entirely
satisfactory as to the purpose of its erection, yet the death of the
illustrious Roman must have taken place in the neighbourhood, and may
have occurred on this very spot.
We did not get to Mola di Gaeta till nearly four o’clock. Here again was
a quarrel, the vetturino declaring that his mules must rest at least
three hours, and that since we insisted on going to Naples the next day,
we must travel all night. It was in vain to argue, he was much more
obstinate than his mules, but fortunately he wanted a little sleep
himself, and we stopt for a few hours at Santa Agata de’ Goti. At Capua
he found that his mules only required an hour and a half, when I should
have been well pleased to have stayed three hours, in which case I might
have visited old Capua. In the modern city there is little except a few
columns in the cathedral, of granite, cipollino, and bigio antico, which
are hardly sufficient to interest a man who has just left Rome. From
Capua the country appears covered with a continued grove of small
poplars, over which the vines climb luxuriantly; and below, wheat and
Indian corn are cultivated. I was on the watch for Vesuvius; the weather
was hazy, but I distinguished it a little before our arrival at Capua
crested with a slender column of smoke, and as we approached Naples, we
caught occasional glimpses of it tipped with red, and shewing now and
then a small eruption. We had to stop at three custom-houses, but our
vetturino would not take us to our inns, which is the usual practice,
but drove directly to his own stopping place, and after all, had the
impudence to demand a _buona mano_. I have engaged a room at an inn
called the Speranzella, for three carlines a day, a carline being worth
about fourpence halfpenny. The master is a Milanese, and the head waiter
a Tuscan, and both thank God that they are not Neapolitans. The
Lazzaroni wanted two piastres (or dollars) for carrying my trunk, but
were contented with half of one, knowing then that they had been paid
twice as much as they ought to have had.
The architecture of the palaces at Naples does not call for any
particular remarks. It is true that they have large parts, and
frequently exhibit a fine unbroken mass, which always has a magnificent
effect; but the proportions are seldom very good, and the details almost
always bad. These observations apply to the royal palace as well as to
those of individuals. It stands in a square, and presents on the
principal floor a continued range of twenty-one windows, on an unbroken
front of 520 palms, or about 447 English feet; the height is 110 palms,
or 94 feet. In all this the design is perfectly simple, except a little
disarrangement in the centre, which is a defect of no great importance.
Such an extent must have a noble effect. The architect was Domenico
Fontana, and he opened the lower part into an arcade; but “in order to
strengthen the building,” says Romanelli, “the alternate arches have
since been filled up.” Whatever was the motive, the beauty of the
building has suffered greatly.
Attached to the palace is the great Theatre of San Carlo. Some degree of
caprice seems allowable in the architecture of a modern theatre, at
least it is usually found there, partly perhaps on account of the
difficulty of adapting the usual arrangements to such a purpose. The
front of the present building consists of an arcade below, and small
columns above, with a large pier at each angle, and a very obtusely
triangular summit. We may perhaps allow some merit to the general idea,
but the faults are so numerous, that if I were to enumerate them, you
would be at a loss to conceive how it could have any beauty. The
Castello Nuovo was the residence of the kings of Naples, and is now
connected with the palace, in order to form a refuge to the sovereign in
case of any public disturbance. A triumphal arch within the first line
of fortifications is deserving of attention, not so much for its own
merit, which however is not contemptible, as for the history of the art.
It was built by Pietro Martino, a Milanese, under Alphonsus the First,
who died in 1458. I do not find the name of this architect in Milizia,
but we may presume him contemporary with L. B. Alberti, who was born in
1398. The design is completely in the style called here _cinque cento_,
and it may be considered as one of the largest and most elaborate
productions of that period, as well as one of the earliest. It abounds
with sculpture, some of which is very good, but as a piece of
architecture, the whole is not pleasing.
The Palace of the Studii is a fine building, and contains a noble
collection of statues, inferior only to those of the Capitol and
Vatican, and perhaps of the gallery at Florence. In painting, it yields
to Rome, Florence, and Bologna; but in bronzes, and Etruscan vases,
exceeds every other. These latter form of themselves a very extensive,
and very intricate object of study; connected with the mythology, and
anecdote-history of the ancients. I have no intention to enter into so
difficult a subject, but shall content myself with admiring the beauty
of the forms, and the graceful attitudes and actions of the figures.
These merits hardly ever fail, though the drawing of particular parts is
often defective. Attached to the Studio there is a library, and I
believe it is a good one, but not so easy of access as most of the
continental libraries, where you merely walk in, and by a simple
application to the librarian, obtain any book you may want. A large
collection of architectural fragments is exposed in one of the courts, a
considerable portion of which came from Pozzuoli. I was desirous of
making a few sketches, in order to compare them with what I had met
elsewhere, but an attendant was sent to tell me that no drawings could
be made there without permission of the director. To him therefore I
applied, and his answer was, “If you apply to your minister, and obtain
an order from the government, as you did with respect to Pompei, I
_must_ give you permission.”