find them within the town itself. It is a short walk from my lodging
into the Toledo, a noble street, nearly a mile long, for which the
Neapolitans are indebted to their viceroy, Don Pietro di Toledo, and
from thence I enter the square, or as it is called here, the Largo del
Palazzo, on one side of which is the royal palace, and on the other is
to be the new church,[22] built in consequence of a vow made by his
present majesty if he should ever be restored to his Neapolitan
dominions.
The Strada de’ Giganti issues from the square on the side opposite the
Toledo. On one side of it there are houses, on the other the royal
printing-office and the arsenal; which are buildings on a so much lower
level, that we overlook them, and command great part of the bay, and
particularly mount Vesuvius.
Continuing our walk, after a short interruption of the scenery, which
rather enhances than diminishes the pleasure, we arrive at Santa Lucia,
whence the whole mountainous, and highly varied promontory of Sorrento
is displayed; and passing beyond the point to which is appended the
Castel dell’ Uovo, we arrive at the Chiaja, a walk adorned with ilices,
sumach, acacia, and other trees; whence we may contemplate the
promontory of Pausilippo, and the rugged island of Capri almost closing
the bay. I give you the leading and central features only of each scene;
each contains something of the adjoining ones, and it would be difficult
to tell which is the most beautiful. In the midst of the Chiaja is a
fountain, decorated with the celebrated group called the Toro Farnese,
which was found in the baths of Caracalla at Rome. It consists of four
figures besides the bull, but has required considerable restorations,
and seems now to be suffering from the action of the sea air.[23]
Another walk, hardly beyond the city, will conduct us to Capo di Monte,
a royal palace, in a delightful situation, but which I believe has never
been finished. A pretty high range of sand hills extends, but in a
descending line, from the Camaldoli to this place, and hereabouts it is
covered with gardens and vineyards, and exhibits the most delightful
views of Vesuvius and the bay of Naples, and as the hill is very much
broken in its form, it offers also the advantage of continual variety in
the accompaniments and position of the scene. Sometimes we find
delightful little recesses in the ravines, home scenes, with little or
nothing of the distance, but most inviting retreats from the heat of the
day. Cultivation however covers every part so closely, that few of these
are admitted, and besides, they are supposed to be unhealthy, and the
present luxury would be too dearly paid for in a tertian fever. I was
offered a suite of five rooms, opening on to a terrace, and commanding
one of the best points of view, for fifty ducats per annum; there was
also a kitchen, and one or two other rooms behind.
The sand is in most places, where the hill has been cut into, firm
enough to maintain a perpendicular face. It has just that degree of
tenacity which is most favourable to the operations of the miner, and
accordingly, we here find the extensive catacombs of San Gennaro.
We might include in this walk the immense _royal workhouse_ (Albergo
Reale de’ Poveri), intended to contain all the poor of the kingdom of
Naples. If completed, the length would have been 2,370 palms, but at
present the front is only 1,560, and the number of poor is about 800.
They were to be taught everything, and since they were found unequal to
the lowest offices in society, an attempt was to be made to fit them in
their old age for the higher ones.
LETTER XLIV.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF NAPLES.
_Naples, 10th October, 1817._
HAVING in my last given you a little sketch of Naples, and of my mode of
life there, I shall now proceed to some account of its neighbourhood.
The first time of my going to Pozzuoli was on foot; I walked through the
Chiaja, and afterwards along a short street, a sudden turn in which
exposes the lofty entrance of the Grotto of Pausilippo. Just at the
point where this turn takes place, there is a little monument, erected
in 1668; which is introduced into most of the published views of the
grotto, but the entrance cannot be seen till we arrive at the monument,
and consequently their union in one scene is fictitious. Beyond this
point there is a high rock on each side of the road, not made
perpendicular by nature, but cut so by art, and on the top of the
left-hand precipice is the tomb of Virgil, which however I could not
distinguish from below; and another more visible fragment exhibiting a
portion of a vault, which is, I suppose, a tomb, but I know not of whom.
The grotto is at present about ninety feet high at the entrance, but
diminishes as we proceed towards the middle; it existed in Roman times,
but was complained of as narrow and dusty, and it was necessary to
ascend part of the hill in order to reach the entrance. Robert, King of
Naples, passing through it one day with Petrarc, required his opinion on
the tradition of the neighbourhood, that Virgil had formed it by magic
in a single night; but the poet replied, that he saw many marks of iron,
but none of demons. Alphonso the First lowered part of the road on the
side towards Naples, but D. Pietro di Toledo, viceroy in 1537, cut it
down to the present level, and consequently gave it its actual height,
and enlarged it considerably. The paving is still more recent, and it is
now lighted by lamps night and day. As I walked through it leisurely,
frequently stopping to look at the rock, and at the effects of the
external scene, as seen through the narrow and lofty arch, I perceived
nowhere any deficiency of light; but on other occasions, when I have
passed it rapidly in a _corribolo_, I was hardly able to distinguish any
object. From the termination of the grotto, after passing through the
miserable village of Fuori Grotta, a straight road between vine-covered
poplars, leads down to the sea-shore, which we coast for two or three
miles, to Pozzuoli; the scenery is beautiful, but the sea is shallow and
rocky. We pass under cliffs of lava, ejected from the Solfatara, rising
in broken masses immediately above the road. The town is on a projecting
rock, most picturesque in itself, and in its situation; and abundance of
fragments of walls and vaults are seen on its rocky and broken shores,
but they are mere fragments. Inside, there are some remains of the
temple of Augustus, which appears to have been pseudo-peripteral, as the
tops of six half-columns are seen in the wall of the cathedral, but all
the ornament of the capital is gone, and we can only just determine the
order to have been Corinthian. The architrave is of three faces, but
without intermediate mouldings, and there are no traces of enrichment,
either on this or the remaining course of stones which appears to have
formed the frieze; but these members are rather small, and the cornice
is wholly wanting. There is said to have been an inscription on the
frontispiece, but I could find neither frontispiece nor inscription. We
are also conducted to a statue of Q. Flavius Ma sius, a letter being
deficient before the _s_, who he was I cannot tell; and to a pedestal
dedicated to Tiberius, and supposed to have supported a statue of that
emperor. It is adorned by fourteen female figures, representing as many
cities of Asia, which having been injured, or destroyed by an
earthquake, were restored by him. There is a name to each, but I have
some doubt of their genuineness.
The most valuable antiquity is just out of the town, consisting of the
Temple of Jupiter Serapis, and warm baths attached to it. Romanelli
_Viaggio a Pozzuoli, etc._ p. 129, says, that by an inscription found
there, it is ascertained to have been erected in the seventh century of
Rome; but nothing of that date is now to be determined. You will find a
plan in the next page, which I have subjoined, in order to render my
description intelligible.
[Illustration:
_a, cavern with a copious spring of warm water._
_b, smaller spring._
_c, cell of temple._
_d d, rooms with perforated benches._
_e e e, the columns which are still erect._
_f f f, channel which carries off most of the hot water to the sea._
_g g, additional channel for the hot water, formed by breaking through
the wall at h._
_i i, marble tubs._
]
The principal feature seems to have consisted of an open portico, of
four beautiful columns in front, and two columns and two antæ behind.
Three of the front columns are still standing. They are of cipollino,
containing crystals of quartz, and about 4 feet 10 inches in diameter.
The lower part of the shaft, for about 8 feet, is very perfect, for 5
feet more it is perforated in all directions by a marine shell-fish; the
upper part is without perforations, and considerably weatherworn. This
upper part, we know, was long exposed to the weather, the lower part was
protected by being buried in the earth till about 1750; but how the
central part of the column should have been under water, and perforated
by the pholas, while still erect in its place, is a standing puzzle for
antiquaries and naturalists. The cell was small, open in front, or only
inclosed by an iron grating, and terminated by a semicircular apsis,
containing one large and deep niche and two smaller ones. An upright
joint divides the circular part of the work from the rest, and it is
possible it may have been an addition. Part of the variegated marble
pavement remains. In front of each of the four external columns there
was a pedestal, probably to support a statue, and before the middle
intercolumniation is a ring, to which it has been supposed that the
victims intended for sacrifice were attached. The court in which this
portico or temple stood, has also been surrounded by columns, and
remaining fragments of these, and of their entablature, show that some
of them were acted upon by the pholas, in the same manner as the
principal columns; while others were perhaps thrown down and covered
with earth, before this singular phænomenon took place. There is neither
capital nor entablature remaining to the larger columns; the bases are
Corinthian, and from these, and the workmanship of the columns, we may
judge of the excellence of the architecture, both in taste and in
execution. The remains of the court are also of the Corinthian order,
but the columns have Attic bases, and both the style and execution of
the ornament are decidedly inferior to those of the principal building,
and announce a more recent date. A large circle of columns on a raised
platform, occupied the centre of this colonnaded court. They appear too
slender to have supported a domical covering, and some remaining
fragments of a circular entablature, which are finished alike on both
sides, induce me to believe that they merely formed a screen round the
platform. In front of each column, but not rising so high as the
platform, there is a pedestal, which was doubtless covered with marble.
In two of the spaces between these pedestals are as many marble
cylinders, which have been called altars, by those who did not observe
that they were hollow; and mouths of wells, by those who did not observe
that they were closed at the bottom; they are strictly marble tubs, but
as in many other circumstances of this building, we are obliged to
confess our ignorance of their use. There was a series of small chambers
round the court, which alternately opened internally, and towards an
external passage; the former uniformly exhibit traces of having been
lined with marble, which is not the case with the others. In some of
those at the western end there are a few steps, which seem to indicate
an upper story over some of these rooms, if not over all, but there are
no vestiges of vaults, or any sort of covering in any part. Opposite to
the principal columns there is a larger division, which probably formed
the vestibulum of the building. The most curious circumstances of the
plan occur in two rooms occupying the angles of the east side of the
building. In these we may observe a channel for water close to the
walls, then a small space, and then a smaller channel. Over the first
channel there was a continued bench, pierced with holes about 6½ inches
in diameter, and 16 inches apart, regularly spaced. The guides tell you
that the plan was to put one leg in one of these holes, and the other in
another, and let the feet dangle in the warm water below; but they are
not disposed in pairs. In the best preserved of these two chambers there
is at present a current of water in the larger channel, but this is
effected by means of a mere hole in the wall, which has been broken
through in modern times. The spring which supplies this, rises copiously
in an artificial excavation behind the cell of the temple. It is just
high enough to give a current to the water across the pavement of the
court, and it passes partly in this direction, and partly by a channel
cut for it on the south side of the edifice. The pavement is below high
water mark, and accordingly, we find it occasionally covered with water.
There are two other springs behind the cell, the water of which is cold;
all three are mineralized, but with different tastes. Much more of these
remains might still have existed, and perhaps enough to satisfy our
curiosity in every particular, if instead of preserving the objects as
they were discovered, the Neapolitan court had not employed them in the
ornamental architecture of Caserta. Other fragments were taken to the
museum at Portici, or to the Studii at Naples, where, standing entirely
detached, and without any memorial, they are comparatively of little
value.
The preceding account is the result not of one, but of several visits to
Pozzuoli. The first time that I was there, after leaving the temple, I
ascended the hill behind it to some ruins of considerable extent, called
with very little reason, the Temple of Neptune. They consist of two
massive parallel walls, each I suppose, 300 feet long. The space between
has been covered by vaults in different directions, and at different
elevations. The brow of the hill here forms a noble terrace, whence the
views are admirable. At one end of this terrace is a monument, probably
sepulchral, in the form of a little temple. The front was adorned with
four brick half columns, and there were five, or possibly six, on the
sides; but internally it appears almost solid. A little farther back is
the fragment of a room covered with a circular dome, which has been
named the Temple of Diana. All these are so buried among vines and
poplars, that it is impossible to obtain any general view of them; and
as for the architecture, none remains; they are mere masses of brick and
rubble walls, mixed with reticulated work. The amphitheatre is of
similar materials, and overgrown in the same manner. It has been a large
one, but its great object of attraction to the modern Italians is the
cell where San Gennajo was confined, previously to being exposed to wild
beasts on the arena. At a convent at a little distance a stone is shown,
said to have been stained with his blood. At the time when the blood of
the saint liquefies at Naples, the mark on this stone becomes of a
bright red, which, after eight days, gradually fades into a dull brown,
which is its permanent colour; there is no standing against so many sham
miracles. It becomes not charity, but folly, to hesitate in pronouncing
the monks a set of impostors. The views here are exquisite, for the
convent is just on the brow of the hill, and wherever circumstances
admit any command of distant objects, the landscape is most beautiful;
yet all this beauty is passed over as a matter of course, after a short
residence on the spot, and we walk about without noticing it, except now
and then from some point where it is seen to particular advantage, or
when some circumstances in the sky, or in the mind of the spectator,
awaken his attention.
Our next object was the Solfatara, evidently the crater of an extinct
volcano, or at least, of one so far extinct as to throw up no fire, and
to make no eruptions, but it still smokes, or rather steams, for what
arises is a vapour charged with sulphureous acid, which will moisten,
and not burn, a paper exposed to it, but which deposits beautiful
crystals of sulphur and alum on the borders of the opening from which it
issues. The steam issues with considerable violence and a hissing noise.
The Solfatara presents a plain, of a form nearly circular, surrounded by
steep broken banks. The soil is of a whitish clay, without grass, but it
supports bushes of chesnut, which also cover great part of the
surrounding banks, and great abundance of the _Inula viscosa_. The
ground sounds hollow, but this arises merely from the spongy texture of
the soil, for in digging for sulphur they have proceeded, through a
nearly homogeneous substance, to the depth of fifty palms, nearly as
many English feet, when their further progress was stopped by the
quantity of hot water. The sulphur seems more or less disseminated
through the whole mass of this clay. In the part which is dug out, it
amounts nearly to one fourth, and is purified on the spot. From the
Solfatara I proceeded towards the lake of Agnano, and the Grotto del
Cane, but the boy who had accompanied me insisted that these were not
included in the bargain we had made, as they were close by Naples, and
not near Pozzuoli, I stated my reasons for the contrary opinion, and
offered to pay him in proportion to what he had already performed, but I
found that I could not obtain attention, and that he still persisted in
his assertion, that these were close by Naples, when therefore I had
once made him understand me, I walked on without replying to his
remonstrances. This was a new subject of grief, which made him quite
forget the other, and he began to cry about it, “_Ma rispondete Signore,
parlate, per l’amor di Dio, una parola, una parola sola_,” finding me
inexorable, “_O sangue di Dio!_” he exclaimed, and many other
exclamations and invocations familiar to a Neapolitan, and his tears
flowed afresh in greater profusion than ever; but at last finding he
could make no impression, he became quiet, and did not even grumble when
I paid him; he would not have been an Italian if he had not asked for
more. He was a youth of about fifteen, who called himself Giovanni. We
parted very good friends, with a particular request that I would call
for him when I came again to Pozzuoli, which I have done several times,
and always have been perfectly satisfied with him. He is civil and
intelligent, and if he cannot cheat me himself, seems quite to have made
up his mind that nobody else shall.
The lake of Agnano is a pretty little circular piece of water, more
varied in its banks than the volcanic lakes about Rome. It abounds in
wild fowl, but is said to be destitute of fish. There are some remains
of ancient baths, which have been rudely fitted up for modern use, under
the name of Stufe di San Germano, a _stufa_ being a steaming place, as
opposed to a bath where you enter the water. A hot sulphureous vapour
issues from the rock, which is supposed in many cases to be very
conducive to health. After walking about 100 yards by the side of the
lake, where the ground was covered with frogs three deep, on which it
was impossible to avoid treading, we arrived at the Grotto del Cane. I
had refused the dog, but I suppose he does not suffer greatly, since he
accompanied us of his own accord to the mouth of the grotto. This is
merely a little hollow in the side of the hill, hardly deserving the
name of a cave, but fastened with a door for fear of accidents. I could
hardly stand upright in it. A warm vapour rises about eighteen inches
from the ground, which extinguishes a torch instantly. From this I
walked back to Naples, being already nearly two miles on the road, but I
shall here add the account of some farther excursions, in one of which I
engaged the corribolo from Naples, as far as the Arco Felice. We pass
under what is called the Villa of Cicero, at a small distance from
Pozzuoli. It only consists of rubble walls, partially faced with
reticulated tufo, and is certainly misnamed. We pass behind Monte Nuovo,
which as all the world knows, rose in one night. The present height is
460 feet, but it appears at first to have been considerably greater. The
old crater is covered with herbage, but there is one spot on the outside
where the ground is still warm. Beyond this hill we look down to the
left on the lake of Avernus, no longer a pestiferous lake which birds
cannot fly over; but as it is evidently one of the volcanic craters with
which this country abounded, one knows not what formerly may have been
the case. Although looking down upon one crater, we still seem inclosed
in a larger one, whose circuit is penetrated by the Arco Felice. This is
pretended to have been part of the circumference of the ancient Cuma,
but it is a Roman work formed of rubble-work faced with brick, wherever
it is not part of the natural rock.
The Citadel of Cuma is more than half a mile distant: in our progress to
it we pass the Temple of the Giants, a piece of brick and rubble-work,
containing a large niche, and two or three other small fragments of no
account. What remains of the citadel is a wall against a hill, in one
part of considerable height. It is composed internally of large tufo,
rubble, and mortar, externally of large squared blocks of a coarse lava.
There are various vaults and walls on the slope of the hill below, the
work of which is between the reticulated and uncertain; lower down
still, is the magnificent opening of the Grotto of the Sybil, which
appears to be a natural cave, but contains an ascending flight of steps
leading to nothing, at least there is at present no practicable way
beyond it, but there appears to have been a small opening now filled
with rubbish. It was perhaps by this passage that Narses took the
citadel, but it seems hardly large enough to admit a man, and more
suited for a tube by which the oracles were delivered in the temple
above. After leaving these objects, we proceed to the Amphitheatre,
which occupies a natural hollow in the ground. There is no appearance of
vaults.