NAPLES, ITALY, _May 12, 1854_.
I came to this city over a route which I once had occasion to describe
to you, passing through Albano, the pleasant summer resort of the
Romans, and crossing the once much dreaded pestilential Pontine marshes
which have been improved by drainage. I spent a night at Terracina, the
frontier coast town of the Pope’s dominions, passed Gaeta the following
day, where his Holiness was exiled under the protection of the King of
Naples, during his political troubles, and found myself here within
forty-eight hours, from Rome, after three searchings of my luggage and
five examinations of my passports.
You will naturally ask, “How have you passed your time on a third visit
to Naples?” The question is easily answered. The half a million of
population of this city and its suburbs is a study in itself. The race
of lazzaroni deserve special attention; the beautiful garden, Villa
Reale, with its fountains and statuary, on the borders of the bay, now
abounding in foliage and flowers, is an agreeable retreat for those who
occupy the large and commodious hotels which overlook these grounds.
Or there is a ride along the coast to the ruins of Baiæ, the Grotto
Pozzoli, or a quiet stroll through the grounds of Prince Roca Romano,
an old gentleman of much taste who devotes his entire time to the
embellishment of his villa, and is very civil to strangers. Aside from
its beautiful position on the bay, its arbors, flowers, and tropical
fruits, it has a collection of rare birds and animals, also a miniature
museum, where I found preserved the Eyeless Fish from the Mammoth Cave
of Kentucky, the gift of an American. The grottoes excavated on the
margin of the sea are adorned with statuary and lighted on festival
occasions; they contain a goodly number of flying fish of a bluish
color, which are regularly fed, and of larger size than those found for
sale in the markets of Curaçoa. A steamboat excursion to the island
of Capri, to visit the Blue Grotto, occupies a day. The steamer lies
off and on the rock; the passengers in small boats enter through the
narrow opening at a favorable state of the tide. Sitting in the boat
the hat touches the rock, so small is the entrance. One is struck with
the beautiful mercurial-like color of the vaulted natural roof, and the
great depth of the azure and limpid water. The boatmen for a fee throw
themselves in, and to all appearance come out dripping with shining
quicksilver.
Mount Vesuvius is now quiet. Having on a former visit ascended the
summit and descended one thousand feet to the verge of the boiling
crater, and with difficulty (from a change of wind) regained the point
of descent, suffering from the inhalation of the sulphurous vapor,
with boots burnt off, I had no desire to renew my acquaintance with
it. I joined a party of ladies to visit the Hermitage about midway to
the top of the volcanic mountain, where an excellent view of Naples
and the valley is obtained, and a good idea is formed of the rolling
action of the lava in its destructive descent upon the plain, and also
of the fertility of the gardens which are formed from decomposed lava
and cinders, and which produce the Lacrima Christi wine, which here
enters in as part of a cold collation. A melancholy accident has just
occurred. A young German gentleman, who breakfasted at our hotel in
full health the morning of his ascent to Vesuvius, was brought down
a corpse. While on the summit a small portion of the earth gave way
and he was precipitated down the chasm; his cries were heard by his
companions for an hour, but before cords could be obtained from below
he had ceased to breathe. A few days may be spent profitably and
delightfully in visiting the ancient cities of Pæstum and Salerno,
and the villages of Amalfi, Minori, and Majori, all lying on the
sea-coast. Things have changed since I first trod the silent streets
of Pompeii; then it really appeared like the city of the dead. Many
excavations have since been made, the results of which are mostly to be
found in the Great Museum of Naples; now the railroad passes by, and
the station of Pompeii is an important one. If those who still sleep
under the cinders and lava of these entombed cities could awake to the
shrill whistle and hoarse cough of the locomotive, they would be as
much startled by them as they were by the fiery flames and ashes of
Vesuvius. Invalided sentinels are quartered to protect the relics of
antiquity from the ruthless hand of travellers. Many gates are to be
opened, and of course the purse strings must be frequently unloosened.
The ride along the railway to Castelmare passes through a number of
sailing ports. The rock excavation gives a good idea of the quality and
variety of lava as it rolls down to the bay.
The drive from Castelmare to Sorrento is most picturesque. The views of
the Bay of Naples, and the islands of Capri, Ischia, and Procida, from
bold rocky cliffs surrounded by orange groves, which abound here, have
been much extolled, and I was almost inclined to become as enthusiastic
as others, as I listened to the harp players, and watched the graceful
forms of the peasants in the national tarantula dance.
The anniversary or festival of the patron saint of Massa, a small
village across the mountain, took place while I was here, so, mounting
a donkey, I found myself, preceded by about a dozen priests in black
robes and three-cornered hats, mounted like myself, with boys beating
the sides of the stupid animals. Our train was considerably augmented
by peasant boys and girls in holiday costume trudging along, and we
finally found ourselves in the square of the parochial church, which
presented the appearance of a fair.
The temporary booths were supplied with all the eatables and drinkables
requisite. The countrymen occupied their time in the examination of
goats, sheep, and pigs, and in making sundry purchases, while the
villagers and country lasses, with tidy white veils, were listening to
a full military band playing church music during high mass. The priests
of the surrounding villages were in full regalia, and the interior of
the building was hung in red drapery fringed with gold leaf borders.
Small cannon were mounted for a grand volley, which was given, after
which these simple people returned home as much enchanted as if they
had witnessed the pompous ceremonies of Rome, and heard the thundering
cannon of San Angelo. My boy had loaded the donkey’s head with rosaries
of stringed filberts and chestnuts, which fruit were much sought after
by those who had not attended the festival.
The royal residence of the king at Caserta is well worth a visit,
and easily reached by railroad. It is fourteen miles from Naples;
the king spends most of his time here. The palace is one of the most
extensive in Europe; the interior, aside from a few of the saloons
and the staircase, is not remarkable. The grounds, gardens, and
parks are eleven miles in circumference; they are well supplied with
water, which is brought twenty-seven miles by aqueduct, forming some
beautiful cascades. The soil is rich and fertile, and the Botanical
and Horticultural Gardens very fine. In many respects I was strongly
reminded of the royal grounds of the Court of Spain at La Granja, but
the fountains here, and statues in marble and bronze, will not compare
with similar works there.
The military force of the kingdom of Naples is one hundred thousand
men. There are three regiments of cavalry and infantry stationed at
Caserta, and soldiery and sentinels may be found at all points where
one goes. The police are very rigid. For instance I retired to bed
early the night of my arrival; at eleven P.M. I was roused
by a rap at the door; I asked what was wanted; a peremptory order
was given to open; I struck a light, and in marched two officers in
uniform, who inquired if I had a passport. I replied in the negative,
my passport being in the hands of the authorities at Naples. “Have you
a _Carta di Segiorno_?” or permit; fortunately I had provided
myself with one, or I should have been marched off to the Carcel. I was
then questioned as to the object of my visit, and how long I intended
to stay, all of which was exceedingly vexatious.
The flower and fruit season is fairly opened, and the sun begins to
make one look for a shady spot. The glare of light is fatiguing to the
eyes, and as I am a sufferer I shall make my way north to Genoa and
Turin.
I shall take the steamer, notwithstanding the recent frightful accident
and loss of the Ercolano from this place, caused by collision with the
Siciliano, whereby forty-nine passengers and crew, in a few minutes,
at midnight, were sent into eternity. It is attributed to gross
carelessness, for it was proved that not an officer was on the deck of
the Siciliano when she struck the unfortunate steamer. The culprits are
in prison awaiting their trial. Many persons are now going north by
land, but without doubt the caution now exercised will for some time at
least make steam travel safer.