Lake of Albano--Velletri--Naples--Rapid Travelling in 1830--A
Trial at Naples--Deciphering Manuscripts--Ball at the Duchesse
d'Eboli's--Matteis's Plot and Trial--Pompeii--Taking the Veil--
Pausilippo--Baiae--La Cava--Salerno--Paestum--Lazaroni--Museum
of Naples--Grotto del Cane--The Camaldoli--Herculaneum--
Vesuvius--Sorrento--Miracle of St. Januarius--Astroni--Farewell
to Naples.
[Page Head: ALBANO--NAPLES]
Velletri, April 15th, 1830 {p.331}
Left Rome at nine o'clock this morning; at Albano procured an
ancient rural cicerone, a boy, and two donkeys, and set out on
the grand _giro_ of the place. The road over the Campagna is
agreeable, because the prospect roundabout is so fine, and the
aqueducts stretching over the plain so grand. After climbing up
to the Capuchin Convent, close to which are the remains of what
is called Domitian's Theatre, we came to the lake, which is
beautiful, but does not look large, and still less as if it had
ever threatened Rome with destruction. There is a road called the
Upper Gallery, shaded by magnificent ilexes, which leads to the
Villa Barberini, a delicious garden, once Clodius's and
afterwards part of Domitian's Villa, containing many remains of
former magnificence. This villa was probably the scene of the
council described by Juvenal (Fourth Satire).
Misso proceres exire jubentur
Concilio, quos Albanam Dux magnus in arcem
Traxerat attonitos.
I could not make out that any excavations have ever been made
here, though they would be certain of finding marbles. The road
passes along the hill which overhangs the margin of the lake to
Castel Gandolfo, and thence a path leads to the bottom, where are
the Emissarium, the Nyphaeum (called the Baths of Diana), and a
beautiful view of the lake, Monte Albano, and its towns. There is
nothing more curious than the Emissarium, built with a solidity
which has defied the effect of time, for it has never required
reparations, and performs its office still as it did more than
2,000 years ago (393 years before the Christian era). Nothing is
so incomprehensible as the magnitude and grandeur of the works of
the Republic before it had acquired power, territory, or
population. The Romans built as if they had an instinctive
prescience of future greatness, and not even the pressure of
immediate danger could induce them to sacrifice solidity to
haste. After wondering at their enterprise and industry we may go
and admire their subsequent luxury in the Baths of Diana, as the
place is called, but which is evidently a natural cave improved
into a delicious retreat by some inhabitant of one of the villas
above. We mounted the hill and went by another road (called the
Lower Gallery, shaded by the finest ilexes, elms, and oaks, which
'high over-arch'd embower,' and where there is one ilex which
twelve men can hardly embrace) to the Doria Villa, once Pompey's
and likewise Domitian's, who included both Clodius's and Pompey's
in his own. There are no remains here, but some arabesques in a
sort of grotto, which I suspect are modern. All their villas
command views of the Campagna, the sea, Rome, and the mountains.
It is no wonder Hannibal was deeply mortified when he looked down
on Rome from these hills (the hills at least close by called the
Prati d'Annibale) at having twice just missed taking it. Poetry
and history contribute alike to the interest of this beautiful
scenery. We met an Englishman, a single bird who had lost his
covey, and had procured a guide who could not understand what he
said. He wanted to go to Albano, and the man was taking him to
the Emissarium. We put him right, but his fury in mixed Italian,
French, and English was exceedingly comical. It was unlucky that
we met him at the top instead of the bottom of the hill.
The road to Aricia, where Horace got such a bad dinner--
Egressum magnâ me excepit Aricia Româ
Hospitio modico--
is beautiful, and close to Gensano we went to look at the Lake of
Nemi, which is very pretty, but not so grand as Albano. The
peasantry are a fine race in these parts, and we met many men
driving carts or riding asses who would not disgrace the most
romantic group of banditti. The people were all working in the
open air, and seemed very gay. There were few beggars, and not
much rags and wretchedness.
Started from Velletri at six in the morning; went very quick over
the Pontine Marshes (which form an avenue of about twenty miles,
quite straight, shaded with trees, and with vegetation of
remarkable luxuriance on each side) to Terracina (Anxur), where
we breakfasted in a room looking upon the sea. The place is
extremely pretty. Thence to Mola di Gaeta, which is very
beautiful, but where we did not stop; and, after a very tiresome
journey, got to Naples at two o'clock in the morning. Vesuvius
was so obliging as to emit some flames as we passed by, just to
show us his whereabouts. They were, however, his first and his
last while I was at Naples.
Naples, April 18th, 1830 {p.333}
I am disappointed with Naples. I looked for more life and gaiety,
a more delicious air, beautiful town, and picturesque lazaroni,
more of Punch, more smoke and flame from Vesuvius. It strikes me
as less beautiful than Genoa, but these are only first impressions.
The Bay and the Villa Reale, a garden along the sea, full of
sweets and sea breezes and shade, are certainly delightful. All
the people seem anxious to cheat as much as they can, from the
master of the inn to the driver of the hackney-coach. At present
I don't feel disposed to stay here, and when I have seen Paestum,
Pompeii, and the environs I shall be glad to get back to Rome.
Sir Henry Lushington said at dinner yesterday he had seen at
Naples a 'Courier' newspaper of that day week, produced by
Rothschild and brought by one of his couriers. I came very fast,
but was 236 hours on the road, including 20 hours' stoppage.
This is 168 hours, which appears incredible, but 'gold imp'd by
Jews can compass hardest things.'
April 19th, 1830 {p.334}
I retract all I said about disappointment, for I have since seen
Naples, and it is the most beautiful and the gayest town in the
world. Yesterday morning with Morier I walked up to the Castle of
St. Elmo and the Certosa; went over the chapel, which is full of
costly marbles, and fine pictures both in oil and fresco,
particularly one by Spagnolet as fine as any at Rome or anywhere.
Tasted the _custode's_ lachryma Christi, which, if it be as good
of the sort as he pretends, is middling stuff, but not bad with
water. Saw all the views, which are magnificent. Walked down to
the Villa Reale, which was crowded with people, and the
Chiaja with carriages. Dined with Hill--half English and half
foreigners--and went to the Opera; a very indifferent opera of
Rossini, ill sung, called the 'Siege of Corinth.'
This morning at half-past eight we went to the Court of Justice
to hear an extraordinary trial which excites great interest here.
The proceedings of the day happened to be very uninteresting, not
that it made much difference, for I could not understand a word
anybody said, but I had an opportunity of seeing the manner in
which they conduct trials in this country, and the behaviour of
the judges, the counsel, and the prisoners. Nothing can be less
analogous than the proceedings here to those which prevail in our
courts; and although it is possible that ours might be better, it
is not possible that theirs could be worse.
I soon left the Court, and walked up the Strada di Toledo--the
finest and liveliest street in the world, I believe--crowded with
people. An Italian proverb says, 'Quando Dio onnipotente è
tristo, prende una finestra nella Toledo.' Then to the Museum, of
which everything was shut but the library and the papyri. The
former contains 180,000 volumes, but is deficient in modern
(particularly foreign) books. They showed us the process of
deciphering the papyri, which is very ingenious. The manuscript
(which is like a piece of charcoal) is suspended by light strings
in a sort of frame; gum and goldbeater's skin are applied to it
as it is unrolled, and, by extreme delicacy of touch, they
contrive to unravel without destroying a great deal of it, but
probably they have been discouraged by the small reward which has
attended their exertions; for there are several black-looking
rolls which have never yet been touched, and very few men at
work. The gentlemen who explained to us the process said that Sir
Humphrey Davy had attended them constantly, and had taken great
pains to contrive some better chemical process for the purpose,
but without success.
[Page Head: MARQUIS DI GALLO'S VILLA]
April 20th, 1830 {p.335}
A delightful drive (made by Murat) to the Marquis di Gallo's
villa on the Capo di Monte, which far surpasses all the villas I
saw at Rome. The entrance is about half a mile from the house,
through a wood, one part of which is a vineyard; the vines
hanging in festoons from cherry trees, and corn growing
underneath. The house is not large, but convenient; a wide
terrace runs along the whole front of it with a white marble
balustrade; below this is a second terrace covered with
rose-trees; below that a third, planted with vines, and oranges,
and myrtles. From the upper terrace the view is beautiful. Naples
lies beneath, and the Bay stretches beyond with the opposite
mountains, and all the towns and villages from Portici to
Sorrento. On the right the Castle of St. Elmo and the Certosa,
and Vesuvius on the left. There is a large wood on one side, cut
into shady walks and laid out with grottoes, and on the other a
vineyard, through which there is also a walk under a treillage of
vines for nearly half a mile. The ground extremely diversified,
and presenting in every part of it views of the surrounding
country--
Umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant.
It is always let, and, till he went away, was occupied by
Stackelberg, the Russian Ambassador.
In the evening went to a ball at the Duchesse d'Eboli's; very few
people, and hardly any English, and those not the best--only
four, I think: Sir Henry Lushington, the Consul; a Mr. Grieve, of
whom I know nothing but that his father was a physician at St.
Petersburg, and that he killed his brother at Eton by putting a
cracker into his pocket on the 5th of November, which set fire to
other crackers and burnt him to death; Mr. Auldjo, the man who
made a very perilous ascent of Mont Blanc, of which he published
a narrative; Mr. Arbuthnot, who levanted from Doncaster two years
ago--but most of the Italian women were there, and I was
surprised at their beauty. Acton, who introduced me to some of
them, assured me that they were models of conduct, which did not
precisely tally with my preconceived notions of Neapolitan
society. They danced, but with no music but a pianoforte. This is
one of the few houses here which is habitually open, for they
have not the means of doing much in the way of society and
gaiety; they are poor, and the Government (the worst in the
world) interferes. The Duchesse d'Eboli is poor, but she was a
beauty, and has had adventures of various sorts.
[Page Head: MATTEIS'S TRIAL]
April 21st, 1830 {p.336}
Dined with Keppel Craven yesterday; Acton, Morier, Duchesse
d'Eboli, and some other people.
The day was so disagreeable yesterday I could not go out--not
cold, but a hurricane and clouds of dust. The principal topic of
conversation at dinner was the trial, which goes on every day,
has already lasted a month, and is likely to last two or three
more. The Code Napoléon is in force here, so that there may
probably be something like a certain and equal administration
of justice between man and man; but this is a Government
prosecution, and therefore exempted from ordinary rules. The
history of this trial exemplifies the state of both the law and
the Government of this country. The accused are five in number;
the principal of them, Matteis, was an _intendente_, or governor,
of a province; 2nd, the advocate-general of the province; 3rd,
Matteis's secretary; and 4th and 5th, two spies. These men united
in a conspiracy to destroy various persons who were obnoxious to
them in the province, some of them actuated by political motives,
and others in order to get possession of the property of their
victims. The bugbear of the Court is Carbonarism, and Matteis
pretended that there was a Carbonari plot on foot, in which
several persons were implicated. He employed the spies to seduce
the victims into some imprudence of language or conduct, and then
to inform against them; in this way he apprehended various
individuals, some of whom were tortured, some imprisoned or sent
to the galleys, and some put to death. These transactions took
place eight or nine years ago, and such was the despotism of this
man and the terror he inspired, that no resistance was made to
his proceedings, or any appeal against them ever sent to Naples.
At last one of his own secretaries made some disclosures to
Government, and the case appeared so atrocious that it was
thought necessary to institute an immediate enquiry. The
_intendente_ was ordered to Naples, and commissioners were sent
to obtain evidence in the province and sift the matter to the
bottom. After much delay they made a report confirming the first
accusations and designating these five men as the criminals. As
soon as the matter was thus taken up, the public indignation
burst forth, and a host of witnesses who had been deterred by
fear from opening their lips came forward to depose against
Matteis and his associates. They were arrested in the year 1825
and thrown into prison, but owing to the difficulties and delay
which they contrived by their influence to interpose, and to the
anomalous character of the prosecution, five years elapsed before
the proceedings began. At length a royal order constituted a
Court of Justice, composed of all the judges of the Court of
Cassation (about twenty), the highest tribunal in the kingdom,
and they have just been enjoined not to separate till the final
adjudication of the case. Although the offences with which the
criminals are charged are very different in degree, they are all
arraigned together; a host of witnesses are examined, each of
whom tells a story or makes a speech, and the evidence is
accordingly very confused, now affecting one and now another of
them. They have counsel and the right of addressing the Court
themselves, which the _intendente_ avails himself of with such
insolence that they are obliged to begin the proceedings of each
day by reading an order to the prisoners to behave themselves
decently to the Court. Their counsel are assigned by the Court,
and it is not one of the least extraordinary parts of this case
that the advocate of Matteis is his personal enemy, and a man
whom he displaced from an office he once held in the province.
They say, however, that he defends him very fairly and zealously.
The day I was there the proceedings were uninteresting, but
yesterday they were very important. An officer was examined who
had been imprisoned and ill-treated in prison, and who deposed to
various acts of cruelty. They on their part hardly deny the
facts, but attempt to justify them by proving that the sufferers
really were Carbonari, that other governors had done the same
thing, and that they were doing a service to the Government by
these pretended plots and consequent executions. Though their
guilt is clear, it is by no means so clear that they will be
condemned, or at least all of them. The public indignation is so
great that they must sacrifice some of them, and the spies, it is
said, will certainly be hanged. Matteis has interest in the
Court, but, as a majority of votes will decide his fate, it is
most likely he will be condemned.
April 22nd, 1830 {p.338}
Yesterday to Pompeii, far better worth seeing than anything else
in Italy. Who can look at other ruins after this? At Rome there
are certain places consecrated by recollections, but the
imagination must be stirred up to enjoy them; here you are
actually in a Roman town. Shave off the upper storey of any town,
take out windows, doors, and furniture, and it will be as Pompeii
now is: it is marvellous. About one-fifth part of the town has
been excavated, and the last house found is the largest. It is
said 1,000 men would clear it in a year, and there are thirty at
work. The road is a bed of dust, and infested with blind beggars,
each led by a boy. There are habitations almost uninterruptedly
along the road between Naples and Pompeii, built apparently for
no other reason than because they are exposed to eruptions of the
mountain, for any other part of the Bay would be just as
agreeable, and safe from that danger.
[Page Head: TAKING THE VEIL]
This morning we went to an Ursuline convent to see two girls
take the veil. The ceremony was neither imposing, nor interesting,
nor affecting, nor such as I expected. I believe all this would
have been the case had it been the black veil, but it was the
white unfortunately. I thought they would be dressed splendidly,
have their hair cut off in the church, be divested (in the
convent) of their finery, and reappear to take leave of their
relations in the habit of the order. Not at all. I went with A.
Hill and Legge, who had got tickets from the brother of one of
the _sposine_; we were admitted to the grating, an apartment
about ten feet long by five wide, with a very thick double
grating, behind which some of the nuns appeared and chattered. A
turning box supplied coffee and cakes to the company. I went to
the door of the parlour (which was open), but they would not
admit me. There the ladies were received, and the nuns and
novices were laughing and talking and doing the honours. Their
dress was not ugly--black, white, and a yellow veil. The chapel
was adorned with gold brocade, and blue and silver hangings,
flowers, tapers; a good orchestra, and two or three tolerable
voices. It was as full as it could hold, and soldiers were
distributed about to keep order; even by the altar four stood
with fixed bayonets, who when the Host was raised presented
arms--a military salute to the Real Presence! The brother of one
of the girls did the honours of the chapel, placing the ladies
and bustling about for chairs, which all the time the ceremony
was going on were handed over heads and bonnets, to the great
danger of the latter. It was impossible not to be struck with
this man's gaiety and _sang-froid_ on the occasion, but he is
used to it, for this was the fourth sister he has buried here.
When the chapel was well crammed the _sposine_ appeared, each
with two _marraines_. A table and six chairs were placed opposite
the altar; on the table were two trays, each containing a Prayer
Book, a pocket-handkerchief, and a white veil. The girls (who
were very young, and one of them rather pretty) were dressed in
long black robes like dressing-gowns, their hair curled, hanging
down their backs and slightly powdered. On the top of their
heads were little crowns of blue, studded with silver or
diamonds. The ladies attending them (one of whom was Princess
Fondi and another Princess Bressano) were very smart, and all the
people in the chapel were dressed as for a ball. There was a
priest at the table to tell the girls what to do. High Mass was
performed, then a long sermon was delivered by a priest who spoke
very fluently, but with a strange twang and in a very odd style,
continually apostrophising the two girls by name, comparing them
to olives and other fruit, to _candelabri_, and desiring them to
keep themselves pure that 'they might go as virgins into the
chamber of their beloved.' When the Sacrament was administered
the ladies took the crowns off the girls, who were like automata
all the time, threw the white veils over them, and led them to
the altar, where the Sacrament was administered to them; then
they were led back to their seats, the veils taken off and the
crowns replaced. After a short interval they were again led to
the altar, where, on their knees, their profession was read to
them; in this they are made to renounce the world and their
parents; but at this part, which is at the end, a murmuring noise
is made by the four ladies who kneel with them at the altar, that
the words may not be heard, being thought too heart-rending to
the parents; then they are led out and taken into the convent,
and the ceremony ends. The girls did not seem the least affected,
but very serious; the rest of the party appeared to consider it
as a _fête_, and smirked and gossiped; only the father of one of
them, an old man, looked as if he felt it. The brother told me
his sister was eighteen; that she would be a nun, and that they
had done all they could to dissuade her. It is a rigid order, but
there is a still more rigid rule within the convent. Those
nuns who embrace it are for ever cut off from any sort of
communication with the world, and can never again see or
correspond with their own family. They cannot enter into this
last seclusion without the consent of their parents, which
another of this man's four sisters is now soliciting.
We afterwards drove through the Grotto of Pausilippo, that
infernal grotto which one must pass through to get out of Naples
on one side; it is a source of danger, and the ancient account of
it is not the least exaggerated:--
Nihil isto carcere longius, nihil illis faucibus
obscurius, quo nobis praestant non ut per tenebras
videamus sed ut ipsas.
There are a few glimmering lamps always obscured by dust, and it
is never hardly light enough to avoid danger except at night; in
the middle it is pitch dark.
Then round the Strada Nuova, Murat's delightful creation, and
walked in the Villa Reale, where I found Acton, who had been all
the morning at the trial, which was very interesting. A woman was
examined, who deposed that her husband was thrown into prison and
ill-treated by Matteis because he would not give some false
evidence that he required of him; that she went to Matteis and
entreated him to release him, and that he told her he would if
she would bring her daughter to him, which she refused, and he
was put to death. On this evidence being given, the examining
judge dropped the paper, and a murmur of horror ran through the
audience. The accused attacked the witness and charged her with
perjury, and said he was ill in bed at the time alluded to. The
woman retorted, 'Canaglia, tu sai ch' egli è vero,' and there was
a debate between the counsel on either side, and witnesses were
called who proved that he was in good health at the time. They
think the evidence of to-day and the apparent disposition of the
judges must hang him.
[Page Head: BAIAE]
Salerno, April 24th, 1830 {p.341}
Here Morier and I are going to pass the night on our way to
Paestum, and as he is gone to bed (at half-past eight) I must
write. Yesterday morning Morier, St. John, Lady Isabella, and I
went to Pozzuoli, embarked in a wretched boat to make the _giro_
of Baiae.
Ante bonam Venerem gelidae per litora Baiae
Illa natare lacu cum lampade jussit amorem,
Dura natat, algentes cecidit scintilla per undas,
Hinc vapor ussit aquas, quicumque natavit, amavit.
Venus bade Cupid on fair Baiae's side
Plunge with his torch into the glassy tide;
As the boy swam the sparks of mischief flew
And fell in showers upon the liquid blue;
Hence all who venture on that shore to lave
Emerge love-stricken from the treacherous wave.
I was disappointed with the country, which is bare and
uninteresting; but the line of coast, with the various bays and
promontories and the circumjacent islands, is extremely
agreeable, and the Bay of Baiae, with the Temple of Venus,
delightful. The Temple of Mercury is also worth seeing. The Cave
of the Sybil, Lake Avernus, and Temple of Apollo are not worth
seeing, but as they are celebrated by Virgil they must be
visited, though the embellishments of Virgil's imagination and
the lapse of time have made disappointment inevitable. Nature
indeed no longer presents the same aspect; for there is a
mountain more (Monte Nuovo) and a wood less about the lake than
in Virgil's time. We found two ridiculous parties there, one
English, the other French, the latter the most numerous and
chattering, and mounted on asses, so as to make a long cavalcade.
There was a fat old gentleman just coming puffing out of the
cave, and calling with delight to his ladies, 'Ah, mesdames,
êtes-vous noires?' as they certainly were, for all one gets in
the cave is a blackened face from the torches. There was another
gaunt figure of the party in a fur cap, who was playing the
flute--
His reedy pipe with music fills,
To charm the God who loves the hills
And rich Arcadian scenery.
We landed from our boat in various places, but declined going
down the Cento Camerelle to have a second face-blackening.
All the ruins, said to be of Caesar's and Marius's Villas,
Agrippina's Tomb, Caligula's Bridge, &c., may be anything; they
are nothing but shapeless fragments, only on a rock I saw a bit
of marble or stucco in what they call Caesar's Villa. The Stygian
Lake presented no horrors, nor the Elysian Fields any delights;
the former is a great round piece of water, and the latter are
very common-looking vineyards. When well wooded, which in the
time of the Romans it was, this coast must have been a most
delicious and luxurious retreat, so sequestered and sheltered,
such a calm sea, and soft breezes.
Mira quies pelagi; ponunt hic lassa furorem
Aequora, et insani spirant clementius Austri.
We went up to look at the old harbour of Misenum, where, instead
of a Roman fleet, were a few fishing-boats, and walked back
through fields in which spring was bursting forth through endless
varieties of cultivation--figs, mulberries, and cherry trees,
with festoons of vines hanging from tree to tree, and corn, peas,
and beans springing up underneath.
Our boatmen, as we rowed back, were very proud of their English,
and kept on saying 'Pull away,' 'Now boys,' and other phrases
they have picked up from our sailors. This morning we set off
to come here [to Salerno] with Vetturino horses; the dust
intolerable; stopped at Pompeii, and walked half round the walls
and to the Amphitheatre. All the ground (now covered with
vineyards) belongs to the King (for Murat bought it); the
profusion and brilliancy of the wild flowers make it quite a
garden--
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art
In beds and curious knots, but nature boon
Pours forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain.
[Page Head: EXCAVATIONS AT POMPEII]
If Murat had continued on the throne two or three years longer,
the whole town would have been excavated. He, and still more the
Queen, took great interest in it, and they both went there
frequently. She used to see the houses excavated, and one day
they found the skeleton of a woman with gold bracelets and
earrings, which were brought to her, and she put them on herself
directly. In their time 800 men and 50 cars were at work; now
there are 40 men and 6 cars. The expense of 800 men and 50 cars
would be about £13,000 a year, but these men will spend nothing.
A car costs a scudo, and a man four carlins, a day. (A scudo is
ten carlins, a carlin fourpence.) The Royal Family seldom or
never come here; the Duke of Calabria has been once. The
Amphitheatre, though not to be compared in size or beauty with
the Coliseum, is much more perfect. The road here is beautiful,
particularly about La Cava. I walked up to the Convent of the
Trinità; it stands on the brink of a deep ravine in the middle of
the hills, which are tossed into a hundred different shapes and
covered with foliage--a magnificent situation. The convent is
very large, and well kept; it contains fifty monks, who were most
of them walking about the road. Here were all the raw materials
requisite for a romance--a splendid setting sun, mountains,
convent, flock of goats, evening bell, friars, and peasants.
Arrived here, delighted with the outside and disgusted with the
inside of the town; but the Bay of Salerno is beautiful, the
place gay and populous, all staring at a fire-balloon which was
just ascending, and soon after came down in the sea. The inns
execrable. We got into one at last, in which there is a wide
terrace looking over the sea, and there we ordered our dinner to
be laid; but we were soon driven in, not by the cold, but by the
flaring of our tallow candles.
We were obliged to write our names down for the police, who are
very busy and inquisitive. One man, whose name was just before
mine, had added this poetical encomium on the inn:--
I mention by way of _guidanza_
For those who are going to Paestum,
They'll find at this inn, the 'Speranza,'
A good place to eat and to rest 'em.
I could not concur with this poet, so I added to my name this
contradiction:--
On the 'Hope's' being such a good treat
We must both put our positive vetos;
We not only got nothing to eat,
But ourselves were ate up by mosquitos.
[Page Head: PAESTUM]
Naples, April 25th, 1830 {p.344}
Started at four o'clock in the morning from Salerno, and got to
Paestum at eight. Tormented to death by beggars and ciceroni
(often both characters in one), for in Italy everybody who shows
a stranger about is a cicerone, from Professor Nibby down to a
Calabrian peasant. There is little beauty in the scenery of
Paestum, but the temples amply repay the trouble of the journey.
I agree with Forsyth that they are the most impressive monuments
I have ever seen. The famed roses of Paestum have disappeared,
but there are thousands of lizards 'nunc virides etiam occultant
spineta lacertos.' No excavations have ever been made here, but
they talk of excavating. There were some fine Etruscan vases
found in a tomb at Paestum, which we did not see. The brute of a
_custode_ knew nothing of it, nor should I if I had not seen the
model in the Museum afterwards. Thousands of Etruscan vases may
be had for digging; they are found in all the tombs. The peasants
have heaps of little carved images of terra cotta and coins,
which they offer for sale. I believed they were fabricated, but a
man I met there showed me two or three that he had turned up with
his stick, so that they may be genuine. What treasures Naples
possesses, and how unworthy she is of them! Paestum[1] long
neglected, and Pompeii hardly touched! At Rome they are always
digging and doing something, and though the Papal Government is
neither active nor rich, I do believe they would not let this
town (Pompeii, I mean) remain buried when a few thousand pounds
would bring it all to light. There seem to be no habitations near
Paestum, but there is a church, which was well attended, for the
peasants were on their knees all round it; and while we were
breakfasting (in a manger with the horses out in the air) they
came out, strange-looking figures, rude, uncouth, and sunburnt,
and without any of the finery which they generally wear on a
Sunday.
[1] The authorities of course can't agree when Paestum was
built, and by whom, or whether one of the temples (the
largest) was a temple or a basilica. The perfect state
of these temples, particularly that called of Neptune,
is the more remarkable because there are scarcely any
vestiges of other buildings. Morier thought them
inferior to the temples at Athens, but so they may well
be; the Athenian temples are built of white marble from
the Pentelic quarries, and highly ornamented by
Phidias.
Naples, April 26th, 1830 {p.345}
To the Museum; met the Dalbergs and Prince and Princess
Aldobrandini, a good-looking daughter and two sons. They will
have all Prince Borghese's estate. I only went into the Pompeii
and Herculaneum part of the collections.
The lazaroni are very amusing. This morning four of them stripped
stark naked under my window, put off in a boat, and thirty yards
from the shore fished for cockle fish, which they do by diving
like ducks, throwing their feet up in the air as the ducks do
their tails. The creatures are perfectly amphibious; they don't
care who sees them, and their forms are perfect. Then there are
little lazaroni who ape the big ones. Met a christening this
morning, and then a funeral. The wet nurse, full dressed, was
carried in a sedan chair down the middle of the street, and the
child, dressed also, held out of the window in her arms, and so
she was going to church. The funeral was a priest's--a long file
of penitents in white, carrying torches, a bier covered with
crimson and gold, and the priest dressed in robes and exposed
upon it, a ghastly sight, with a chalice in his hand and a book
at his feet, other priests following, the cross borne before him.
When young girls are buried in this way, they are gaily dressed
with chaplets of flowers, a flower in the mouth, and flowers at
their feet.
Rode to the race-course and round the hills; such views and such
an evening! At seven o'clock I could see the houses at Sorrento,
nineteen miles off on the other side of the Bay. Dined with
Acton; none but English. In the evening went to Toledo, the
Spanish Ambassador's. The Duc de Dalberg talked of an association
to excavate at Calabria and Apulia. The Government reserves four
places--Pompeii, Paestum, Stabiae, Herculaneum--for its own use,
and anybody may excavate elsewhere who will be at the trouble and
expense.
[Page Head: ANTIQUE PAINTING]
April 29th, 1830 {p.346}
On Tuesday again to the Museum and the King's Palace; rather
fine, good house, very ridiculous pictures of the royal families
of Naples and Spain. The Duchess of Floridia's apartment (old
Ferdinand's wife) is delightful; the rooms are furnished with
blue satin and white silk, opening upon a terrace covered with
orange-trees, flowers, and shaded walks, and looks over the Bay.
A few fine pictures, but not many. There is a bath, built after
one of those at Pompeii.
From what I saw at the Museum, I see no reason to doubt that the
ancients were as excellent in painting as in sculpture; there are
some very exquisite paintings taken from Pompeii. Then we are not
to believe that the best have been found, or that a provincial
town contained the finest specimens of the art. Painted on walls,
they appear deficient in light and shade, but the drawing and
expression, and sometimes the colouring (allowing for spoiling),
are very good. There are some Cupids playing at games, and
driving chariots, very like the Julio Romanos in the Lanti Villa
at Rome, which indeed were borrowed from the ancient frescoes
discovered in the Baths of Titus. The bronzes taken out of
Herculaneum and Pompeii are very interesting, because they
display the whole domestic economy of the ancients, and their
excellent taste in furniture, sacrificial instruments, &c., but
there is nothing particularly curious in the fact of their pots
and pans being like our pots and pans, for if they were to boil
and stew they could not well have performed those operations with
a different kind of utensils. However, all the people marvel at
them; they seem to think the Romans must have been beings of a
different organisation, and that everything that is not
dissimilar is strange. What is really curious is a surgical
instrument which was lately found, exactly similar to one
invented thirty years ago in France. The lava would not touch
bronze; the iron was always encrusted and spoilt, but the bronze
things all look like new.
May 2nd, 1830 {p.347}
Went to the Lake of Agnano and the Grotto del Cane; very pretty
lake, evidently the crater of a volcano; saw the dog perform; a
sight neither interesting nor cruel; the dog did not mind it a
bit, and the old woman must make a fortune, for she had eight
carlins for it. The grotto is very hot and steaming; a torch goes
out held near the ground, and when I put my face down the steam
from the earth went up my nose like salts. Virgil's Tomb, which
is very picturesque, and from whence the common view of Naples is
taken; there has been plenty of discussion whether it really is
Virgil's tomb or not. Forsyth seems to doubt it, with one of his
off-hand flings at the authority for its being so, a sort of 'Who
the Devil, I humbly beg to know, is Donatus?' but there is
tradition in its favour, the fact of Virgil having been buried
here or hereabouts, and the honour being claimed by no other
spot. When there is probability it is unwise to be so very
sceptical: take away names, and what are the places themselves?
Here not much, at Rome nothing.
[Page Head: RUINS ABOUT NAPLES]
Thursday. {p.348}
Went a long and most beautiful ride up to the Camaldoli, from
which the view extends over sea and land to an immense distance
in every direction.
Thus was this place
A happy rural seat of various views.
The convent was once very rich, but the French stripped all the
convents of their property, which they have never since
recovered. It is remarkably clean and spacious. Each monk has a
house of his own containing two or three little rooms, and a
little garden, and they only eat together on particular days. The
old man who took us about said he had been there since he was
eighteen, had been turned out by the French, but came back as
soon as he could, and had never regretted becoming a monk. He
showed me a bust of the founder of their order (I think San
Romualdo), and when I asked him how many years ago it was
founded, he said, 'Perhaps 2,000.' I said when I became a monk I
would go to that convent, when he asked very seriously if I was
going to be a monk. I said, 'Not just yet.' 'Very well,' he said;
'you must pay 120 ducats, and you can come here.' We went down a
road cut for miles in the mountain, very narrow and steep,
through shady lanes, groves, and vineyards (with magnificent
views), through Pianura to Pozzuoli, entering by the old Roman
road and Street of Tombs. The _columbaria_ in the Street of Tombs
are the best worth seeing _ejus generis_ of any. Went to the
Temple of Jupiter Serapis, of which there are very curious
remains.
Hard by the reverent ruins
Of a once glorious temple, reared to Jove,
Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall
Of virtue, most unfortunate) yet bears
A deathless majesty, though now quite rased,
Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings,
So that where holy Flamens wont to sing
Sweet hymns to Heaven, there the daw and crow,
The ill-voiced raven, and still chattering pie
Send out ungrateful sounds.
MARSTON.
To the ruins of the Amphitheatre, from the top of which there is
one of the finest views I ever saw of the Bay of Baiae and the
islands; and then to the Solfaterra. The ruins scattered about
Naples (those at Pozzuoli, for instance) are far more extensive
than most of those at Rome, but partly 'carent quia vate sacro,'
and partly because there are no well-known names attached to
them, the ground is not so holy, and little is said or thought
about them. If these temples were at Rome, what an uproar they
would cause! The Solfaterra is remarkable as a sort of link
between the quick and the dead volcanoes; it is considered
extinct, but the earth is hot, the sulphur strong, and at a
particular spot, when a hole is made, it hisses and throws up
little stones and ashes, and exhibits a sort of volcano in
miniature, but the surface of the crater is overgrown with
vegetation. The road to Naples by the convent of the Jesuits and
Chapel of St. Januarius is the most beautiful I ever saw,
particularly towards sunset, when the colouring is so rich and
varied. It lies over a crest commanding a prospect of the
mountains on one side and the sea on the other.
Quid mille revolvam
Culmina visendique vices.
May 3rd, 1830 {p.349}
We sailed across the Bay to Resina, to see Herculaneum, the old
and new excavations. At the new there are only seven or eight men
at work; the old are hardly worth seeing. So much earth and
cinders are mixed with the lava in the new part, that they might
excavate largely if they would spend money enough; at present
they have only excavated one or two houses, but have found some
bronzes and marbles. The houses are laid open, just like those at
Pompeii.
[Page Head: ASCENT OF VESUVIUS]
The next day Morier, Watson, and I set off to ascend Vesuvius; we
rode on donkeys from Salvatore's house to the bottom of the last
ascent, which was rather less formidable than I expected, though
fatiguing enough. Another party went up at the same time: one man
of that party, Watson, and I walked up alone; the others were all
lugged up. They take the bridles off the donkeys and put them on
the men; the luggee holds by this tackle and the guide goes
before him. After infinite puffing and perspiring, and resting at
every big stone, I reached the top in thirty-five minutes. It was
very provoking to see the facility with which the creatures who
attended us sprang up. There was one fellow with nothing on but a
shirt and half a pair of breeches, who walked the whole way from
Resina with a basket on his head full of wine, bread, and
oranges, and while we were slipping, and clambering, and toiling
with immense difficulty he bounded up, with his basket on his
head, as straight as an arrow all the time, and bothering us to
drink when we had not breath to answer. I took three or four
oranges, some bread, and a bottle of wine of him at the top, and
when I asked Salvatore what I should pay him, he said two carlins
(eightpence English). I gave him three (a shilling), and he was
transported. It was a magnificent evening, and the sunset from
the top of Vesuvius (setting in the sea) a glorious sight--
For the sun,
Declined, was hastening now with prone career
To the ocean's isles, and in th' ascending scale
Of heaven the stars, that usher evening, rose.
The view, too, all round is very grand; the towns round the Bay
appear so clear, yet so minute. I had formed to myself a very
different idea of the crater, of which the dimensions are very
deceitful; it is so much larger than it appears. The bottom of
the crater is flat, covered with masses of lava and sulphur, but
anybody may walk all about it. At one end stands what looks like
a little black hillock, from which smoke was rising, as it was
from various crevices in different parts; that little hillock is
the crater from which all eruptions burst. The mountain was
provokingly still, and only gave one low grumble and a very small
emission of smoke and fire while we were there; it has never been
more tranquil. The descent is very good fun, galloping down the
cinders; you have only to take care not to tumble over the
stones; slipping is impossible. The whole ascent of the mountain
is interesting, particularly in that part which is like a great
ocean of lava, and where the guides point out the courses of the
different eruptions, all of which may be distinctly traced. We
got to the Hermitage just as it was dark; there was still a red
tint round the western horizon, and the islands were dimly
shadowed out, while the course of the Bay was marked by a
thousand dancing lights. Salvatore has especial care of the
mountain under the orders of Government, to whom he is obliged to
make a daily report of its state, and he is as fond of it as a
nurse of a favourite child, or a trainer at Newmarket of his best
race-horse, and delights in telling anecdotes of old eruptions
and phenomena, and of different travellers who have ascended it.
Two years ago an English merchant here laid a bet of 200
napoleons that he would go from Resina[2] to the top in an hour
and a half. Salvatore went with him, and they did it in an hour
and thirteen minutes. The Englishman rode relays of horses, but
the guide went the whole way on foot, and the best part of the
ascent had to drag up his companion He said it nearly killed him,
and he did not recover from it for several weeks; he is 53 years
old, but a very handsome man. He said, however, that the fatigue
of this exploit was not so painful as what he went through in
carrying the Duke of Buckingham to the top; he was carried up in
a chair by twelve men, and the weight was so enormous that his
shoulder was afterwards swelled up nearly to his head. When the
Duke got down he gave a great dinner (on the mountain), which he
had brought with him to celebrate the exploit. Salvatore said
that he continues to write to many scientific men in various
parts of Europe when anything remarkable occurs in the mountain,
and talked of Buckland, Playfair, and Davy. We got down to Resina
about half-past nine, and at ten embarked again and sailed over
to Castel-a-Mare, where we arrived at one o'clock.
[2] From Salvatore's house at Resina to the top of the
mountain is seven miles; from the Hermitage to the top,
3-1/3. It is a mile and 200 feet from the bottom of the
ascent (on foot) to the top, 800 feet from the point we
first gain to the bottom of the crater; the inner
crater (or black hill, as I call it) is 230 feet high
and 180 feet in circumference. The miles are Neapolitan
miles, about three-fourths of an English mile.
The next morning Mr. Watson and I got a six-oared boat (with
sails) and went to Sorrento. Castel-a-Mare and the whole coast
are beautiful. Landed a mile from Sorrento, and walked by a path
cut in the rock to the Cocomella, a villa with a magnificent
prospect of the Bay exactly opposite Naples.
Placido lunata recessu
Hinc atque hinc curvas perrumpunt aequora rupes.
Dat natura locum, montique intervenit imum
Litus et in terras scopulis pendentibus exit.
Then to the town to see the curiosities, which are the Piscine,
Tasso's house, and some very romantic caverns in a wild dell
under the bridge at Sorrento; all very well worth seeing, but
Tasso's house was locked, so we could not get to the terrace.
Just as we arrived at Sorrento we found they were performing a
ceremony which takes place there every year on the 1st of May,
and there only--the benediction of the flowers, the ushering in
the may.
With songs and dance they celebrate the day,
And with due honours usher in the may.
It was in the Archiepiscopal church, which was gaily adorned with
hangings of various colours, gold and silver and flowers, full of
people, all in their best attire. A priest in the pulpit opposite
the Archbishop's throne called on the representatives of the
different parishes (seven in number), who advanced in succession,
each bearing a huge cross fifteen or twenty feet high, entirely
made of flowers, and adorned with garlands and devices, all
likewise of the most brilliant flowers, and, as each came up, a
little cannon was fired off. They were blessed in succession, and
then deposited around the throne of the Archbishop, who, after
this ceremony was concluded, went up to the altar and celebrated
High Mass. They told me that this festival had taken place at
Sorrento from the remotest time.
After seeing the Piscine we went into a garden above, where there
was a profusion of orange and lemon trees, loaded with ripe
fruit; the oranges we pulled off the trees and ate; they were
excellent, and as red as Morella cherries--
Whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only, of delicious taste.
We could not stay long at Sorrento, and were four hours rowing
across the Bay to Naples. Dined with Hill at the Villa Belvidere
(a delicious villa on the Vomero), with a large, tiresome party,
principally English.
[Page Head: THE BLOOD OF SAN GENNARO]
Yesterday the miracle of the blood of San Gennaro was performed,
and of course successfully; it will be repeated every morning for
eight days. I went to-day to the Cathedral, where San Gennaro's
silver bust was standing on one side of the altar, surrounded by
lights, and the vessel containing the blood on the other. Round
the altar were ranged silver heads of various saints, his
particular friends, who had accompanied him there to do him
honour, and who will be taken this evening with him in procession
to his own chapel. Acton and I went together, and one of the
people belonging to the church seeing us come in, and judging
that we wanted to see the blood, summoned one of the canons, who
was half asleep in a stall, who brought out the blood, which is
contained in a glass vase mounted with silver. It liquefies in
the morning, remains in that state all day, and congeals again at
night. A great many people were waiting to kiss the vessel, which
was handed to us first. We kissed it, and then it went round,
each person kissing it and touching it with his head, as they do
St. Peter's foot at Rome. San Gennaro and his silver companions
were brought in procession from one of the other churches, all
the nobility and an immense crowd attending. I had fancied that
the French had exposed and put an end to this juggle, but not at
all. They found the people so attached to the superstition that
they patronised it; they adorned the Chapel of St. Januarius with
a magnificent altarpiece and other presents. The first time
(after they came to Naples) that the miracle was to be performed
the blood would not liquefy, which produced a great ferment among
the people. It was a trick of the priests to throw odium on the
French, and the French General Championnet thought it so serious
that he sent word that if the blood did not liquefy forthwith the
priests should go to the galleys. It liquefied immediately, and
the people were satisfied. Acton told me that nobody believed it
but the common people, but that they did not dare to leave it
off. It is what is called a false position to be in, when they
are obliged to go on pretending to perform a miracle in which no
men of sense and education believe, and in which it is well known
they don't any of them believe themselves. Miracles, if sometimes
useful and profitable, are sometimes awkward incumbrances. Drove
round the obscure parts of the town, and through dense masses of
population, by the old palace of Queen Joan and the market place,
which was the scene of Masaniello's sedition. He was killed in
the great church (in 1646).
May 4th, 1830 {p.354}
To the Museum, and saw the mummies which have been unrolled; they
are like thin, black, shrivelled corpses; hair and shape of face
perfect, even the eyelids. The canvas fold in which they are
wrapped quite fresh-looking; the best preserved is 3,055 years
old. Amongst the bronzes there is a bust of Livia with a wig.
Dined with Toledo, the Spanish Minister. The women put their
knives into their mouths, and he is always kissing his wife's
hand--an ugly little old woman. Toledo was Romana's aide-de-camp.
May 5th, 1830 {p.354}
To Cumae, and dined at the Lake of Fusaro with the Talbots and
Lushingtons; not a pretty lake, but the country near it pretty
enough. A splendid sunset, with real purple. 'Lumine vestit
purpureo.'
[Page Head: THE BLOOD OF SAN GENNARO]
May 7th, 1830 {p.355}
In the morning to the Chapel of St. Januarius, to see the blood
liquefy. The grand ceremony was last Saturday at the Cathedral,
but the miracle is repeated every morning in the Chapel for eight
days. I never saw such a scene, at once so ludicrous and so
disgusting, but more of the latter. There was the saint, all
bedizened with pearls, on the altar, the other silver ladies and
gentlemen all round the chapel, with an abundance of tapers
burning before them. Certain people were admitted within the
rails of the altar; the crowd, consisting chiefly of women, and
most of them old women, were without. There is no service, but
the priests keep muttering and looking at the blood to see if it
is melting. To-day it was unusually long, so these old Sibyls
kept clamouring, 'Santa Trinità!' 'Santa Vergine!' 'Dio
onnipotente!' 'San Gennaro!' in loud and discordant chorus; still
the blood was obstinate,[3] so the priest ordered them to go down
on their knees and to say the Athanasian Creed, which is one of
the specifics resorted to in such a case. He drawled it out with
his eyes shut, and the women screamed the responses. This would
not do, so they fell to abuse and entreaties with a vehemence and
volubility, and a shrill clamour, which was at once a proof of
their sincerity and their folly. Such noise, such gesticulations.
One woman I never shall forget, with outstretched arm, distorted
visage, and voice of piercing sharpness. In the meantime the
priest handed about the phial to be kissed, and talked the matter
over with the bystanders. 'È sempre duro?' 'Sempre duro, adesso
v' è una piccola cosa.' At last, after all the handling, praying,
kissing, screaming, entreating, and abusing, the blood did
melt,[4] when the organ struck up, they all sang in chorus, and
so it ended. It struck me as particularly disgusting, though
after all it is not fair to abuse these poor people, who have all
been brought up in the belief of the miracle, and who fancy that
the prosperity of their city and all that it contains is somehow
connected with its due performance. The priests could not
discontinue it but by acknowledging the imposture, and by an
imaginative people, who are the slaves of prejudice, and attached
to it by force of inveterate habit, the acknowledgment would not
be believed, and they would only incur odium by it; there it is,
and (for some time at least) it must go on.
[3] I dined at Hill's; sat next to the Duchess de Dalberg,
talked of the miracle, which she told me she firmly
believed. I fancied none believed it but the lowest of
the people, and was (very foolishly) astonished; for
what ought ever to produce astonishment which has to do
with credulity in matters of religion?
[4] Illarum lacrymae meditataque murmura praestant,--
Juvenal, 6.
Went up to Craven's villa (this is the villa at which the amour
between the present Queen of Naples and Captain Hess was carried
on), and sat there doing nothing in the middle of flowers, and
sea breezes, and beautiful views. To comprehend all the luxury of
the _bel far niente_ one must come to Naples, where idleness
loses half its evil by losing all its enervating qualities; there
is something in the air so elastic that I have never been at any
place where I have felt as if I could make exertions so easily as
here, and yet it is a great pleasure to sit and look at the Bay,
the mountains, the islands, and the town, and watch its amusing
inhabitants. At least half an hour of every morning is spent at
my window, while I am dressing, watching the lazaroni, who fish,
work, swim, dress, cook, play, and quarrel under it. At this
moment the scene is as follows:--Half a dozen boats with awnings
and flags moored off the landing-place, a few fishing-boats with
men mending their nets, three fellows swimming about them, two
with red caps on perched upon the wall playing at cards, two or
three more looking on, one on the ground being shaved by a barber
with a basin (the exact counterpart of Mambrino's helmet), and
two or three more waiting their turn for the same operation--
always a certain number lounging about, others smoking or asleep.
[Page Head: ASTRONI]
May 8th, 1830 {p.355}
Rode with a large party to Astroni, where they dined, but I did
not. There were the Lushingtons, Prince and Princess Dentici (he
is at the head of the Douane), Madame and Mademoiselle Galiati
(she is remarkably pretty), Count (I believe) and Countess
Rivalvia, her uncle, Lord A. Chichester, Count Gregorio, and a
Mr. Stuart. The park, or whatever it is called--for it is the
King's chase and full of wild boars--is one of the most beautiful
and curious places about Naples. Milton's description of the
approach to Eden applies exactly to Astroni; if ever he saw it it
is likely that he meant to describe it--
To the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides,
With thicket overgrown, grotesque, and wild,
Access denied; and overhead up grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view.
It is an immense crater of a volcano, the amphitheatre quite
unbroken, and larger than that of Vesuvius, but covered with
wood, and the bottom with very fine trees of various sorts and
with fern--very wild and picturesque. There are several little
hillocks, supposed to have been small craters; but although it is
proved that this was a volcano from the lava under the soil and
from its shape, there is no mention of it as an active volcano,
and nobody can tell how many thousand years ago it was in
operation. The King, with his usual good taste, is cutting down
the finest trees, and has made a ride round the bottom, which he
has planted with poplars in a double row, spoiling as much as he
can all the beauty of the place. They dined in a shady arbour,
made on purpose with branches of trees bound together, and on
beds of fern, were very merry, pelting each other with oranges
and cherries, and dealing about an abundance of manual jests.
_Evening._--I have taken my last ride and last look at Naples,
and am surprised at the sorrow I feel at quitting it, as I fear,
for ever. Rode again to Astroni with Morier, and walked through
the wood and tried to scale one of the sides of the mountain, but
lost the path, and could only get half-way up; it is the most
beautiful place about Naples. Came back by the Strada Nuova, and
saw for the last time that delicious Bay with its coast and its
islands, which are as deeply imprinted on my memory as if I had
passed my life among them. To-night I have stood once more by the
shore, and could almost have cried to think I should never see it
again--
The smooth, surface of this summer sea--
nor breathe this delicious air, nor feast my eyes on the scene of
gaiety, and brilliancy, and beauty around me. Nobody can form an
idea of Naples without coming to it; every gale seems to bring
health and cheerfulness with it, and appears 'able to drive all
sadness but despair.'
Naples, they tell me, does very well for a short time, but you
will soon grow tired of it. To be sure, I have been here only
three weeks, but I liked it better every day, and I am wretched
at leaving it. What could I ever mean by thinking it was not gay,
and less lively than Genoa? To-night, as I came home from riding,
the shore was covered with lazaroni and throngs of people,
dancing, singing, harping, fiddling--all so merry, and as if the
open air and their own elastic spirits were happiness enough. I
suppose I shall never come again, for when I have measured back
the distance to my own foggy country, there I shall settle for
ever, and Naples and her sunny shores and balmy winds will only
be as a short and delightful dream, from which I have waked too
soon.