had made a special agreement with a vetturino to convey us to Bari, and
had entered into a great many particulars which our experience on former
occasions had pointed out to us as expedient, but unfortunately we
either forgot to mention, or mentioned it so casually, that we could
neither of us be sure of having done so, that the usual expenses were to
be paid. I had been very much hurried the day before, as is frequently
the case with travellers just setting out on a new expedition, and did
not get to bed till past one. At half past two a man was sent to call
me. It was part of our agreement that we should not set off till five
o’clock, and this interruption made me very angry; I therefore scolded
the man and sent him away, but I could not sleep any more. This is one
of the usual plagues of Italian travelling, and a very great one it is,
since the time allowed for repose on such occasions, is seldom so much
that we can well afford to lose any of it. The vetturino had promised
that the carriage should come for us to the inn, but this part of his
bargain he now refused to perform. This formed the subject of the second
quarrel, and as soon as we arrived at the place from whence we were to
start, we disagreed about the expenses. I have certainly had more
exercise in scolding in Italian, than I ever had in English; scolding
and bargaining are here qualifications of every day necessity. We found
two gentlemen going the same road for seventeen ducats each, while we
were each to pay twenty-four; this seemed to indicate that we were
grossly cheated, or that the expenses had really been considered in our
bargain, and the vetturino was so used to lying reasons, that he never
thought of giving the really good one which he had to urge, which was,
that these gentlemen were only going to Foggia, about two thirds of the
distance. After a time all things were settled, only as a last trick we
found that he had directed the driver to demand Spanish dollars, which
are worth a few grains more than the Neapolitan piastres. The road lies
along a comparatively level country, among groves of poplars supporting
vines, to Cardinale, seventeen miles distant. Here the hills begin, and
Sharp and myself went forward on foot up the first ascent, but the road
winds between woody slopes, and we had no view over the country we had
past. The descent exhibits a rich valley, bounded by a great variety of
hills and mountains. Some parts are cultivated with corn or vines,
others are covered with wood, while occasionally, a bold and craggy
cliff gives spirit and variety to the scene. The road continues along
this valley to Avellino, and here ended our first day’s journey,
twenty-six Neapolitan, or about thirty-one English miles from Naples.
Yet the road is neither bad nor hilly. Five carriages full of company
left Naples together, which probably was the occasion of some delay, and
made it very difficult to obtain accommodation at the inns; but it was
desirable in point of security, as the road is not in very high esteem,
although guarded in the worst part by a band of sixty-five robbers taken
into the king’s service. On looking round at the different parties, S.
and myself decided that our own companions were the most agreeable of
the whole; of the two who were with us in the carriage, one was a
gentleman perhaps thirty years old, who had been an officer in the
French armies, and served afterwards under Joachim; for the latter
circumstance he is now dismissed, although his appointments were at
first confirmed to him by the present government. Our English laws have
decided that it is no crime to serve the king _de facto_; the restored
sovereigns of Italy have not adopted that salutary maxim, but in
punishing men for doing their duty, have given their subjects a lesson
that it belongs to them to decide who ought to be king; and have
rejected their best officers from the service. Our companion made no
complaints, but simply mentioned the facts as inquiries occurred in the
course of conversation. An Italian is almost always improved by foreign
military service. It enlarges his mind and improves his manners, without
lowering his standard of morality; he is generally free from the
puppyism, and violent _esprit de corps_, of which the French officers
are accused. In all parts of the world the middle classes of society are
the most moral; in Italy they are also the best informed, as instruction
to a certain point is of easy attainment, although beyond this point,
the progress of the human mind is checked as much as possible by the
religious and political institutions of the country, and if a nobleman
can read and write his own name, it seems as much as is expected. This
state of things cannot last, but the French, in their revolutionary
frenzy, put the lowest class at the top, and the remedy was worse than
the disease. Revolutions are essentially bad things; the chances are
terribly against a good ending; but a circulation of ranks, in which
superior talents and virtues among the people gradually advance
themselves and their families, while the higher classes, when
unsupported by personal qualifications, as gently sink again into the
mass, is essential to the sane condition of the body politic. Add to
this a constitution where every one has his due weight; and let me add,
that let his portion of political consequence be ever so small, no man
ought to be entirely a cypher; and national prosperity must be the
result. Our other companion was a brother of this officer, quite as much
as the other inclined to render us those little services in which a
native can so easily assist a stranger, not very well informed, but with
considerable desire of becoming so. In the _serpe_, or cabriolet, were
three natives of Livello, a town in Apulia, a little out of the high
road. One had been a soldier, the second had also, I believe, been in
service; the third was studying medicine at Naples. The most perfect
equality seemed to prevail among them; they were all young, civil, and
good humoured. Towards the end of the second day, the scenery became
open and dreary. Sharp said it resembled the Yorkshire wolds; I compared
it to the South Downs, but the hills were higher and not quite so naked.
We slept at Ariano, where the antiquities are hardly worth notice; and
the next day, a string of ten carriages set out together for mutual
protection in passing the most dangerous part of the road near Ponte
Bovino, where two carriages had been robbed the day before. Two young
men from Lecce who had their guns with them, walked by the side of their
carriages at the most suspicious spots, and there were two gens d’armes
on horseback, and another escort belonging to a carriage travelling
post, which here kept company with us. After the first mile or two the
road lay along a valley, sensibly descending on the whole, though we
occasionally had to cross little hills; these were rocky and bushy;
rough, but neither bold nor high, and there is a great deal of
uncultivated ground; this style of country continued to Ponte Bovino,
where on a former occasion our officer had been attacked by robbers
while he was sitting at supper, though he had a band of fifty men with
him. Here we could procure nothing for dinner but bread and
_mozzarelli_. These are pieces of curd, rather than cheese, from
buffaloes’ milk, which are very good when roasted. At Rome similar
things are called _provature_, but the name of these little items of
food varies in almost every province. At Ponte Bovino we leave the
valley, and on crossing the last hill of this part of the Apennines, the
whole of Apulia, a dull and naked flat, lay before us, with the high,
downy-looking Monte Gargaro in the distance. The third day’s journey
concluded at Foggia, which is rather a handsome city, and exhibits some
remains of Gothic, or rather of Lombard architecture in the cathedral,
and some good pieces of the _renaissance_. We parted at this place from
our agreeable companions, and at four the next morning, (14th of
October) we renewed our journey, along a deep clayey track, through a
flat open country, in a continued rain. Our remaining companions left us
at Cerignola, and we proceeded alone to Barletta, where we arrived late,
and had great difficulty in procuring beds. I could not see the English
consul, but as we learned that a vessel which we had some hopes of
finding here bound for Corfu, had already sailed, we determined to make
no delay, but proceed according to our agreement to Bari. The weather
during almost the whole journey was very wet, and still continued so,
but the scenery improves from Barletta. It is true there is little
variety in the ground, but it is less naked, and several towns, each
standing in a very picturesque manner on a low limestone point advancing
into the Adriatic, form a succession of pleasing objects. Their long
horizontal lines seem to unite them with the rocky projections on which
they are placed, and are finely contrasted with the tall and slender
campanile, which is rarely wanting. The road passes on the outside of
these towns, as in fact their situation places them rather out of its
line, and their narrow and crooked streets render it desirable to avoid
them. At Bari also a new road has been made outside of the town,
although a small circuit is necessary for that purpose. In architecture
Bari offers little interest, yet it is not without some buildings which
deserve notice. The town occupies the situation already described, of a
low limestone promontory, and the cathedral and one or two other
churches, boast of domes. These are near to the cathedral and to the
lofty campanile. They group remarkably well, and having no rivals, form
the town into a single composition from whichever side you consider it.
Another part of the line is well broken by the solid mass of a large
church dedicated to San Nicola, but this is a plain, lofty building
without tower or dome. Each of these churches seems to have been
designed for two towers, but the general effect is better as it is. The
cathedral externally is very much in the style of those of Lombardy, but
the ancient doorway has been removed; and the appropriate divisions of a
large wheel window which adorns the front, are also wanting, to the
great detriment of its appearance; but though with these and some other
accessories which have likewise been taken away, it might have been
rich, it never could have been handsome; and the flanks certainly were
neither rich nor handsome, nor even characteristic of a great public
edifice, a fault more rare with those early architects. Some smaller
circular windows have preserved their internal divisions, but these have
rather the appearance of perforations in a single stone, than of being
formed by intersecting rods. The campanile is a small tower on the top
of a larger one, attached to the end of the transept, which is itself
very tall and slender. Internally, the church has been modernized, but
something of the simplicity of the ancient arrangement is preserved, and
the richness of the choir, which is merely a large niche, highly
decorated, is set off by the plainness of the other parts of the
edifice.
The Church of San Nicola, the patron saint of Bari, is perhaps larger
than the cathedral. It has been left imperfect, but retains more of its
original structure. The architecture is Lombard, and we are informed
that it was finished in 1197. Some of the ornaments are Gothic, but
these may have been added. The shafts of the doorway rest on figures of
animals. Internally, we are reminded in some parts of the arrangement of
the church of St. Mark at Venice, but not of its rich decorations. A
gilt and ornamented ceiling of comparatively modern date rests on
whitewashed walls.
One little church at Bari has a small wheel window in the upper part,
and in the lower a doorway, which we may call Norman. The mouldings of
the jaumbs are continued round the arch without any indication of column
or capital, or any thing to mark the commencement of the curve.
The English consul at Bari assured us that a boat to Corfu would cost
three hundred dollars, as the usual price, but that with his
interference we might obtain it for two hundred and fifty, or possibly,
when we appeared to be startled at the price, for two hundred. We have
since learned that such a thing may be had for one hundred and twenty,
but the consul saw our anxiety to be gone. Sir H. Lushington had written
to the consul at Otranto, in order to obtain for us a passage in the
courier’s boat from that city, to Corfu. It did not seem quite certain
that our object would be attained, but we thought it better to take our
chance there, than pay such a price for a boat from Bari. The illness of
my companion detained us a month in the latter place. We hired a
lodging, and found a trattoria in the same house, which was very
convenient in some respects, but Bari beats even Naples for noise. My
occasional companions at the trattoria tell me that Bari is the most
stupid, ignorant, brutish, ill ordered, and ugly place on the coast.
Though a city of twenty-eight thousand inhabitants, it has no
bookseller, and a few volumes in a tailor’s shop, formed all the
literature I could find in the place, nor could either the consul, or
the doctor, help me to a single work. The former indeed was useful at
first to buy a little meat, or a fowl to make broth for S., but I found
afterwards that it was much better to take that office on myself, and
the superintendence of every other; for though I procured a man nurse,
and the old woman of the house and her servant professed to do every
thing, yet they did little but talk to each other in the highest
scolding pitch in the sick man’s room, when I was not present; nor could
I depend on the apothecary’s preparing the medicines, unless I stood by
to look at him. The consul came, and said _speriamo_ so often, that if I
were not of a very sanguine temperament, I should have been quite in
despair. I do not know whether in this he was prompted merely by
curiosity, or whether, as he found he could make nothing of us alive, he
hoped we might be more profitable to him dead, for he was continually
teasing me with his proposed arrangements for the funeral. I amused
myself as well as I could, studying Romaic, and sometimes collecting
plants, but I was sadly at a loss for books, since I had made no
provision for so long a stay. Towards the end of the time, I made an
acquaintance with a lawyer of Conversano, who with his son was staying
at Bari about some business; and by his means I procured an Ariosto, and
he also taught us to use the Italian cards, which served to amuse the
invalid while he was yet too weak to go out. At last we made our bargain
for Otranto (with the accent on the first syllable) for twenty-four
ducats. The journey was to be performed in four days; and we retained
the power to dismiss our vetturino at the end of any day, if we should
find the journey too fatiguing, paying at the rate of six ducats per
diem, and in that case one ducat additional. In the morning however we
had a quarrel, because he had promised a close carriage, and brought an
open one, that is, a four-wheel carriage with a fixed head and sides,
and curtains to let down in front; but at last we set off in it. The day
was fine, and even hot. For the first four or five miles there is an
artificial road, the termination of which was marked by a deep trench.
Afterwards we had merely a track on the native soil, which is generally
a rough uneven rock. The country is inclosed, forming olive-gardens,
with corn underneath, and vines and fig-trees. The former are kept
short, as in the south of France, and not trained to any support. After
a time we got into a more naked country near the shore, which you might
call a heath, only there is little or none of that plant, the principal
ornaments being the bushes of lentiscus, and of a shrubby thyme or
marjoram, and the leaves of the _Asphodelus ramosus_, and of the _Scilla
maritima_, but the flowers were quite over. The little town of Pulignano
is seated among plains of naked rock, intersected in almost every
direction by exceedingly deep ruts. I thought it impossible to proceed,
but our driver was very careful and very skilful. We slept the first
night at Monopoli, which is again among groves of olive-trees, and our
next day’s journey of thirty-six miles, was almost always in stiff clay,
which on the whole was a relief, for we were so sore and bruised by the
jolting of the first day, that I do not know how we could have borne a
second on a road equally rugged. The ground between the olive-trees was
no longer cultivated with grain, but covered with bushes of lentiscus,
phillyrea, myrtle, various species of cistus, and the _Quercus
coccifera_. A range of hills on the right agreeably diversified the
prospect, and on the left the blue waves of the Adriatic sometimes
appeared between the boles of the olives, and sometimes over their
summits. We observed neither house nor living creature for a large
portion of this day’s journey, which terminated at a miserable village
called San Vito. Among the olives we frequently meet with trees of the
_Ceratonia siliqua_, whose sweet pods are much eaten in Italy, but the
variety introduced from these sources did not prevent a feeling of
tiresome monotony, from the continued prevalence of the olive-grove. The
direction of the road is marked by two parallel, low, stone walls, but
for the most part it is quite impassable, and the track in use sometimes
lying on one side of it, and sometimes on the other, we frequently had
to cross the road and its boundary walls. The third day conducted us
from San Vito to Lecce, and in the wilder parts the abundance of arbutus
in flower, and loaded at the same time with its scarlet fruit, was very
beautiful. Lecce is a fine city: you would complain in England that the
streets were narrow, and laugh at some of the extravagancies of
architecture, but you could find very few places to come in competition
with it, or which had so much the appearance of a little capital. No
money appears to have been spared in embellishing the churches, and it
is a pity it was not spent under the influence of a better taste. We had
not much daylight to see it, but a beautiful bright moon, and a clear
cold atmosphere. The fourth day’s journey was a short one to Otranto,
mostly over downs or heaths, covered with low shrubby plants, lentiscus,
phillyrea, myrtle, pyracanthus, and different sorts of cistus, but at
this time of year the effect of all together at a little distance, is
much like that of an English common covered with furze, and occasional
bushes of thorn. On entering the town we crossed a clear little stream,
called the Idro, of the smallest size indeed, but it was the first
running water we had seen since leaving Barletta, a distance of a
hundred and fifty or a hundred and sixty miles. There is neither
albergo, locanda, nor trattoria in the place, but the consul procured us
a good lodging, and did all in his power to make us comfortable without
expecting to make a bargain of us. There is no fine architecture at
Otranto of any date, but there are curious hints, as indeed there are in
most of the towns along the coast. The large balconies which frequently
occupy the whole extent of the front, have a very good effect. The lower
part appears very solid, with few and small openings, and the balcony
itself generally partakes of the same massive character.
[Illustration: Illustrations of balconies]
The style of the upper part is much lighter. Sometimes the centre of the
building falls back in the upper stories, while the balcony runs across
the opening, and over it a trellis is carried, supporting vines, and the
contrast of colour and form thus produced is very beautiful and
picturesque. In some houses at Otranto this recess is arched over, and
this disposition is also usually ornamented with vines. These
contrivances for living out of doors are better suited to a warm climate
than to such a one as ours; yet I think some of these arrangements would
not be unmanageable in our country. There are a great many effects
produceable from open porticos and galleries, which give the Italian
architecture a great advantage. We copy such dispositions, but with us
there appears a want of good sense in them, which more than compensates
the effect of light and shade; while in Italy, the appearance of air and
shade is also that of comfort and pleasure.
There is an ancient church at Otranto, containing some remains of
classic antiquity, said to be derived from a temple of Minerva; but I
can point out nothing as particularly beautiful, except a fine marigold
window, which is probably of a later date than the body of the building.
The bases and capitals of the columns are at best of the lower empire.
Unfortunately for the lovers of romance, the castle is a commonplace
fortification of the sixteenth century, without any thing venerable or
picturesque about it.
We were conducted by our consul to an olive-ground, of which there are
authentic records of the planting, at the beginning of the sixteenth
century. The trees are therefore about three hundred years old; they
still bear, but are much decayed; yet I should think we have seen older.
At least we have seen much larger. The ladies in the south of Italy have
rather shrill voices, and in the lower class of females, when they are
earnest about any thing, (and they are earnest about every trifle) this
becomes quite a scold. I have already mentioned those at Bari, where the
maid-servant seemed always to speak in a whirlwind; and the woman who
took care of the house where we lodged at Otranto, and who cooked and
did every thing for us, was so strong in her expressions of gratitude,
that Sharp insisted she was scolding. The consul had received a letter
directed to me from Sir H. Lushington, but not knowing what to make of
the address, he had opened it, and contrived to obtain the sense of its
contents. It was fortunate for us that he did so, as an order from Corfu
is necessary, in order to be permitted to make use of the courier’s
boat, and he had forwarded the letter, and procured for us the
permission. After waiting four days for a southerly wind to bring over
the boat, and two more for a northerly one, we left Otranto and Italy on
the 29th of November. Our passage was performed in about thirty hours.
The coast of Albania, as we approached it, appeared to be composed of
high and craggy mountains, for the most part of a bare and desolate
appearance. Corfu at first also presents a ridge of craggy mountains,
but less high and more varied, and whose lower parts are covered with
olives. As we get nearer we distinguish lower ranges of hills between
these mountains and the shore. The town of Corfu stands on the eastern
side of the island towards Albania, and seems to be placed on the shore
of a noble lake. The situation is delightful, and the views towards the
island the most beautiful you can imagine: a very irregular chain of
mountains appears to run down its middle; nearer, are hills covered with
wood and olives, and the shores are varied with a succession of bays and
promontories, sprinkled with villages, and enriched with gardens and
vineyards. Across the water, the scenery is more grand, but monotonous,
savage, and desolate. The mountains form a more continued line, and
Tomarit, covered with deep snow, appears above the general range, but at
this time of year there are many patches of snow scattered over the
Albanian mountains. We were much struck on our arrival at Corfu with the
total difference in the style of architecture, as compared with that of
Italy; which, as Corfu is rather an Italian than a Greek city, we did
not expect. Instead of large rooms, and lofty ceilings, we found small
chambers, in which I can do little more than stand upright. And in the
principal streets the footpaths run under arcades, which are so low,
that in many places I cannot conveniently walk under them. The windows
are large in proportion to the scale of the building, and the spaces
between them, both horizontally and vertically, very small. In short,
the whole disposition is mean and paltry, and the materials are in no
respects better.