which is seated on an elevated plain, intersected by winding valleys,
and sheltered by surrounding mountains, but open to the sea. It is
fertile and well cultivated. Parthenico, a village at the extremity of
this plain, is a most delightful spot. The mountains above it are
covered with wood, and a magnificent crag rising above the houses is
beautifully fringed with trees. Hence we command the whole plain of
Alcamo, containing a mixture of vineyards, olive-grounds, and orchards;
and beyond these is the noble bay, with its steep and craggy shores.
From Parthenico we ascend the mountains, which after a little time
resume their accustomed nakedness, but the road is really a magnificent
work, winding along the side of a deep and narrow valley. It rises to a
considerable elevation, perhaps 2,000 feet. There were vineyards at the
highest parts, but only in warm and sheltered situations. From the
summit, one long descent conducted us through Monreale to Palermo, where
on my return, I was informed that the packet would not sail for ten
days, and that a quarantine had just been established at Naples for all
vessels from Palermo, on account of reports of a plague at Tunis, and an
infectious fever at Malta; intelligence which, to say the truth, sent me
to bed in the dismals, for I am getting very anxious to finish my
observations at Naples and Rome, and to return to England and to you.
I have told you nothing about Monreale, which nevertheless deserves
notice, both for its situation, and the magnificent Norman Cathedral it
contains, rich with marble columns, and the walls covered with ornaments
and historical compositions in mosaic, the ground of which is
principally gold. It was erected by William the Second, who reigned from
1166 to 1189. The arches are all pointed, but many of the ornaments are
like those of our Anglo-Norman period, only instead of being carved,
they are for the most part executed in inlaid marbles. Other ornaments
are evidently copied from the Roman, and are by no means ill executed.
These also are principally in mosaic, or inlaid work, but there is also
a portion of very good carving. The western doorway is particularly rich
and handsome. The successive projection of the parts is very small, and
this character I have already noticed as prevailing also in the
Saracenic buildings in Sicily. About Monreale the aloe is very abundant,
and I once counted ninety-eight flowering stems in one view. It is
employed as a fence, but it is not a good one, for though excellent for
one or two years before flowering, yet as the old plant dies immediately
afterwards, two or three years elapse before the offsets are
sufficiently advanced to supply its place effectually. I sometimes also
see the cactus employed as a fence, but after some time the lower part
loses its prickles, and men and animals may creep through.
I went to the play the day after my return from Segesta, and saw (will
you believe it?[39]) the whole story of Orlando Furioso cut down into a
farce! All those episodes were omitted in which neither Orlando nor
Angelica had any share, but everything relating to them was carefully
preserved, not excepting Astolpho’s smelling bottle with Orlando’s wits,
though Astolpho makes his appearance on the stage merely on this
occasion. A character called Lappanio is added, as a servant to Orlando,
and this character, or rather this actor, in his native character of a
Palermitan buffoon, is pushed into every transaction. As a buffoon he is
excellent: he has a great deal of humour, and never betrays the least
consciousness of the bursts of laughter which he excites; but as he
speaks Sicilian I could not always understand him.
[Illustration:
J. Hawksworth, Sculp.
DOORWAY OF THE CATHEDRAL AT MONREALE
_London Published by J & A. Arch Cornhill March 1^{st}. 1828_ ]
Having been able on the 10th to ascertain that the packet would not
depart before the 14th, I determined to employ the interval in seeing
the cathedral of Cefalù, built by Roger, the first Norman king of
Sicily, in 1146, in consequence of a vow, when he was in danger of
shipwreck.
The chief roads, for the distance of from twenty to thirty miles from
Palermo, are carriageable, a circumstance which is spoken of with great
admiration in Sicily; and a sort of stage goes every day to Termini,
which is twenty-three English miles from Palermo. The journey was
performed without changing horses in about three hours and a half. We
set out a little before four. The road is very pleasant, passing mostly
along the shore, except where it crosses the isthmus on which Bagaria is
seated. It is in excellent order, and must have been made at
considerable expense, for in one place the rock is cut down to the depth
of thirty or forty feet to admit it.
I found that two of my companions in this stage were going to Cefalù as
well as myself, and I put myself under their guidance. They would not
proceed at night, because we had to pass over a well watered plain,
producing abundance of rice, but infamous for _mal aria_. I was
therefore conducted to a little inn (perhaps there was no better in the
place), and we engaged horses at eleven _tarì_ each to take us to our
destination (about twenty-two miles), fixing our time of departure at
half-past two in the morning. It was not very punctually adhered to, but
we set off at half-past three, which I thought quite early enough, for
it was still dark, and reached Cefalù in five hours and a half. The road
still follows the shore, but during the latter part of the way, it
passes through a delightful country, among vineyards and olive-grounds,
with the sea glittering through every opening, and the fine promontories
which bound the gulf of Termini occasionally showing themselves. Fine,
woody mountains rise gradually from the shore, becoming more abrupt in
their upper parts, and presenting here and there a magnificent cliff:
behind these, but not in view from Cefalù itself, are the mountains of
the Madonnia, a vast mass, which is said to consist of limestone.
The zigzag mouldings, cut billets, and deficiency of mosaics in the
essential parts of the architecture, give to the Cathedral more
appearance of the Norman style, than is exhibited in that of Palermo.
Some of the ornamental arches are acutely pointed, while on the other
hand, the principal doorway has a decidedly horse-shoe arch without a
point.
Near the cathedral is a building called the House of Roger, which though
nearly similar in style, is perhaps somewhat later in date. In the
windows three small arches are included in one larger, and all are
pointed, and spring on the same line, like those of the upper story of
the aisles at Nôtre Dame at Paris.
The old city of Cefalù was upon the hill before Roger founded his
cathedral near the shore, but this seems to have drawn down the town
into its own neighbourhood. My landlord gave me a sketch of the history
of the place. First were the worshippers of idols. Then the Catholics.
Then, long before the Saracens, came Diana, whose house may still be
seen at the top of the hill. I thought at first this had been the
goddess Diana, but I found afterwards that she went to France and
married the king’s son. I could not learn who came between her and the
Saracens. The latter were driven out by Roger. This house of Diana, at
least I believe the fragment which I visited to be what the landlord
intended, though my guide said it was the old cathedral, is a very
curious structure. It is of Cyclopean masonry, with two rooms and a
passage between them: it exhibits three doorways, and appears to have
been a dwellinghouse, and if so, is probably quite unique. We have
city-walls and terrace-walls of this construction, and a temple at
Rhamnus, but no other buildings that I know of anywhere else.
For a Sicilian city of second rate, my accommodations at Cefalù were
very good. I could have stayed there two or three days with pleasure,
but I was unwilling to risk the loss of the packet. On the 12th
therefore, I retraced my way to Termini, where I had more daylight than
on the former occasion. The country here also is very beautiful, but the
mountains are not so woody as at Cefalù. The baths which have given a
name to the place, seem to rise in a breccia containing rounded pebbles
of grit and limestone. They are salt, and merely tepid, as the hand may
be held in them without inconvenience. The base of the rock on which the
castle stands is of a gray limestone, with nodules of a yellowish brown
colour, and veins of white; it is topped with a coarse grit in thin
strata. Beyond Termini I noticed a white, argillaceous rock, and I was
told that gypsum is dug about half-way between Termini and Cefalù;
nearer the latter city the soil is of grit, but the hills at that place
consist of a fœtid limestone abounding in shells. It will take a polish,
and is used as marble.
[Illustration:
J. Hawksworth Sculp.
CYCLOPÆAN WALL AT CEPHALÙ.
_London. Published by J & A. Arch. Cornhill. March 1^{st} 1828._ ]
The next morning I resumed my post in the diligence from Termini to
Palermo. One of the company was a young citizen of Palermo, who
complained frequently that he had not sufficient respect paid to him on
that account. “One would think all here were cavaliers, a Palermitan is
not worth attention.” He did not seem to obtain his object by these
complaints, but they were made without ill-humour, and nobody denied his
claims or laughed at them. The Sicilians are a vain people. They are
frequently telling you how much the Sicilians have done, even if they
are obliged to go back to Archimedes to find it out, and to remind you
that the Syracusans defeated the forces which the Athenians sent against
them; forgetting that it could be no great praise for a city which,
according to their own account, contained two millions of people, to
defeat the forces of one of eighty thousand. They also frequently refer
to the Sicilian vespers; an event of which I trust we should be far from
proud in England.
The passage in the packet from Palermo to Naples cost nine ounces, an
ounce being two Sicilian dollars and a half; and for this the passenger
is _spesato_, _i. e._ provided with as much food as he pleases, and each
has a little room to himself which is numbered, and on taking his place
he may secure any unoccupied number he pleases. We were ordered on board
at half-past five on the 16th, and as I did not learn this till near
five, on returning from a walk, my things were packed up in a great
hurry. I soon found, however, that there was no reason to be uneasy, and
went to the play to see Lappanio once more. A little after midnight the
passengers went on board, and at about three o’clock on the morning of
the 17th we left the harbour. The packet would have entered the bay of
Naples on the 18th, if the captain had not made a mistake of ten miles
in his position, which threw us to the south, while a strong wind from
the north-west prevented us from recovering the consequence of the
error, and it was not till about noon on the 20th, that we entered the
port. The quarantine regulations had been repealed, a few petty fees
carried us through the custom-house, and I resumed possession of my old
quarters at the Locanda della Speranzella.
LETTER LVI.
POMPEI.
_Naples, 9th November, 1818._
I HAVE been so long accustomed to watch for opportunities of sending
letters, and to feel disappointed on missing any, that I do not know how
to reconcile myself to the power of sending them twice a week, when I
have neither time nor matter for such frequent correspondence; but my
feelings are altogether different from what they were when I was here a
year ago. The novelties of my journey are over, and what remains for me
to do, is merely to revisit cities I have already seen, or others very
similar to them, and inhabited by people whose manners and language are
grown familiar to me. Returning to Naples seemed in some degree like
coming home; the shops, the streets, the buildings, and many faces I
recollected at once, and found that many persons recollected me. I
received at my inn the welcome of an old acquaintance.
The people here, both men and women, look uncommonly handsome, which
perhaps will make you think poorly of the Greeks and Sicilians. The bay
has lost nothing in its impression of beauty from the scenes I have
since contemplated; only the mountains appear less than my memory had
represented them. The city is decidedly finer than Palermo, though while
in that city, I was inclined to dispute its pre-eminence.
I staid a few days at Pompei, or rather at Torre dell’ Annunziata, in
the beginning of October, and returned to it again at the middle of the
month; but thinking I might as well save the time spent in walking
backwards and forwards between these two places, I removed after a few
days to a wine-house, which is close by the excavations. I could procure
there neither coffee nor milk, but lived on meat, maccaroni, and
love-apples. At first there was no cause for complaint, but after some
days the landlord’s efforts began to relax, of which I complained on
leaving him. He seemed conscious that he was in fault, and promised that
if I would come again, he would treat me from beginning to end to my
heart’s content. My chamber was indeed a sort of store-room, but if the
apartment was not splendid, I had at least a clean pair of sheets. One
large window opened down to the floor, and on to the terraced roof of
the lower part of the house, which was easily accessible by means of the
rubbish accumulated from the excavations behind; nearly opposite to
this, but high up in the room, there was another small window, which I
usually left open, while I shut the larger one. My landlord one morning
observing this arrangement, cautioned me very gravely against it,
recommending me either to shut both windows, or to leave both open; for
said he, if the air come in on one side, and find a free passage, it
will go out without doing any harm; but if it is confined, you will
certainly suffer from it. I shall quote this _dictum_ in England when I
hear about draughts.
In the beginning of November I returned again to Pompei, and now that I
fancy myself pretty well acquainted with what is to be seen there, I
shall proceed to give you some account of this most interesting place,
which I have hitherto postponed, with the intention of combining all I
had to say on the subject, in one general view.
The first object at Pompei on the south side of the city, is a large
square court, surrounded with columns, usually called the Soldiers’
Quarters. Parts of almost all the columns are standing, and many remain
of the full height, and with their capitals, but no part of the original
construction above the capitals now exists; however, when first dug out,
the decayed woodwork still retained its forms, and one angle has been
restored precisely on the ancient model; at least such is the
information given to us on the spot, and it is this restoration I am
about to describe to you. The architrave consists of a piece of timber,
slight for its position, and shewing distinctly the origin of the small
and insufficient architrave found in the examples of the Roman Doric,
and considered afterwards as constituting a part of the character of
that order. Round the court are a number of little chambers, and in some
places the remains of staircases. There is a projecting gallery under
the portico, which communicates with the chambers of the upper story.
This gallery was defended by a railing with intersecting braces, the top
of which is rather lower than the capitals of the columns, and the
gallery is therefore partly in the roof; the tiles are of two sorts,
flat, with raised edges laid upon the rafters, and semicircular, placed
over the joints of the first. The chimneys are covered with similar
tiles, but a projection on each side, open beneath, gives an exit for
the smoke in a downward direction. We observe from the different styles
of workmanship, that the walls were built at various times, but never in
a very solid manner, and that the columns, which were originally of a
slender Greek Doric, of pleasing proportion, and well suited to the
small size, and simple character of the place, were afterwards covered
with an enormously thick coat of very indifferent stucco. On the lower
parts of all the columns this stucco was painted red, on the upper part
of four of them, two in the middle of each longer side of the court,
blue; and on the others alternately red and yellow. The whole of this
stucco and painted work must be considered as a gross deformity, and I
hope you do not suppose that what I have said on former occasions in
favour of rich detail, and of colouring, was intended to include every
multiplication of small parts, or every mode of diversifying colour. In
its original state, as a court surrounded by seventy-four stone columns
of a sober gray colour, it must have had a pleasing and respectable, if
not a magnificent appearance. Columns alone are sufficient to produce
that effect, for which I want a word, and which I find it difficult to
explain to my own satisfaction, but which in the disposition of the
principal parts, corresponds with the _richness_ produced by the smaller
elements of sculpture, moulding, and carving. A modern Italian church
with its broken entablatures, multiplied pilasters, and corners of
pilasters, festoons, niches, and broken pediments over them, abounds
more in detail than a Greek temple. Yet at a little distance the former
looks poor, because it wants this _richness_ in the distribution of the
larger parts.
On one side of the court is a recess, ornamented with Ionic columns.
This mixture of the orders seems to have been common in ancient times,
and is not objectionable in a circumstance like this, where the more
ornamented work belongs to a smaller and more highly finished building
within the larger. Where the second order forms the internal part of the
same building, as in the Greek propylæa, it is more doubtful; and must
at once be reprobated in the temple of Apollo at Bassæ, near Phygaleia,
if it be true that one Corinthian column existed in the internal, Ionic
peristyle of a temple externally Doric.
We pass from this court to another, where a few brick columns
irregularly placed afforded a sheltered communication to the two
theatres; and thence turn to the right into the small, or covered
theatre. The scene is here a plain wall, and is said to be of modern
erection. The seats are of lava, moulded at the edge, except the lower
ones for the senators, &c. who are supposed to have had the convenience
of cushions, and perhaps of a sort of stool or chair. A portion remains
of the rich marble pavement of the orchestra. Over the side entrances
are spaces supposed to have been occupied, each by a sort of box for
some distinguished persons, but the position of the staircases seems to
announce an intimate connexion with the actors. Like most other
buildings at Pompei, this edifice exhibits traces of the earthquake
which preceded by sixteen years, the fatal eruption, and of consequent
restorations.
The Large Theatre has been lined with marble; and the Scene is
ornamented with niches and advancing pedestals, some of which apparently
supported columns and statues. The arrangement is very much like that at
Taormina, and with the assistance of these, and of the one at
Herculaneum, we may form some idea of the architectural arrangement and
decoration of the ancient stage. The style was not very pure, but
nevertheless may have possessed its share of beauty, considered merely
as ornament. Perhaps the mode here adopted, may have given birth to the
lighter and more fantastic architecture, so abundantly painted in the
baths and chambers of the ancients.
In this theatre we find a recess in the lower part of the sedile, and
marks in the stone, apparently of the means of affixing a permanent
chair. The recess is opposite the middle of the scene, but the holes for
the chair are not in the centre of the recess; but would leave room for
another moveable chair by its side. In front of the chairs there is an
inscription to Marcus Holconius Rufus, _Duumvir_. Some of the seats are
numbered, by which we learn that 15¼ inches were allowed for each
spectator.
From the upper part of the great theatre we pass into another large
court, surrounded with columns of the Doric order; they are of stone,
covered with a thin, fine, hard coat of stucco, probably coeval with the
building. This court is much larger than that of the Soldiers’ Quarters,
but from its irregularity, and much more imperfect condition, is less
interesting. We enjoy from it however, and from the upper part of the
theatre, a most beautiful view of part of the bay of Naples, the
mountain range behind Castellammare and Sorrento, and the island of
Capri. Within the court are the ruins of the Temple of Hercules, hardly
elevated above the soil. It is called also the Great Temple, a name
which seemed ridiculous enough to me, just come from Sicily, where one
column of the temple of Jupiter at Agrigentum contains as much solid
material, as the whole of such an edifice as this when perfect. Some
persons have doubted whether it was a temple at all, since from a
comparison of the different dimensions, it appears probable that there
were seven columns in front,[40] and eleven on the sides, including
those of the angles, but the unequal number in front is not decisive
against its religious character, though it probably in that case
announces a very high antiquity; and this idea is favoured by other
circumstances. The large and heavily projecting capital is exceedingly
weather-worn, and the manner in which the fragments were found,
indicates that it lay as a ruin even before the earthquake. There are
some little buildings just in front of it, which form a puzzle to the
antiquaries, but I shall content myself with endeavouring to explain
what I think I do understand, and not lose myself in unsatisfactory
discussions on objects which I do not. There is a semicircular bench
near the temple, suited alike for prospect or conversation. This court
communicates with the street by means of a graceful Ionic portico of the
same taste as that in the Soldiers’ Quarters; but as this is a more
perfect example, I shall endeavour to give you some idea of it. Two
pilasters, each with a three quarter column joined to it, and six
insulated columns form the front of a recess; the lower diameter of the
column appears to have been 2 feet, the upper is 20¼ inches, the flutes
finishing square, one inch and one third under the necking. The capitals
have four similar faces, the volutes being formed something in the
manner of the external one of the angular capital of a Greek Ionic. In
that, however, if we take our example from the temple of Minerva Polias
at Athens (see Stuart), the lower rim of the volute on each face is
curved on the plan so as to keep it perpendicularly, or nearly
perpendicularly, under the upper rim, and the face of the volute
consequently upright. In these, the curve of the volute begins much
earlier, leaving but a small flat surface above the ovolo, and the lower
part of the rim is returned parallel, or very nearly parallel to the
diagonal of the abacus, which, giving to the volute the appearance of
looking downwards, produces a very marked character. The eggs are very
small, not exceeding one third of the whole height of the convex
moulding, or ovolo, which they adorn, or rather they are not eggs, but a
berry, of which half only is shewn, laid on a double leaf. The
entablature used both for this order and the ancient Corinthian of
Italy, has the dentils very narrow and close together, more like the
ends of boards placed vertically, than of joists or rafters. In this
instance they are twice as numerous as the beads of the moulding
immediately above them. The Pompeians were evidently fond of strongly
marked lines in their mouldings. To produce that effect they introduced
very deep sinkings in various parts, both in the Doric and Ionic orders.