nuses with splintered arms, and emperors with broken noses, are as plenty as blackberries. Under the walls of St. Elmo, a spur of the bills called the Vomero shoots out at right angles to the range, terminating at the margin of the bay in a high perpendicular bluff, and dividing the town into two sections. Its summit is covered with buildings, overhanging the streets and quays of St. Lucia and Chiatamone. A zig-zag terrace leads to its brow, forming a connexion between the upper and lower world. Directly under its cliffs, stands the Castello del Uovo. It is a monstrous pile, seated upon a little island, once the villa of Lucullus, which was separated from the main-land by an earthquake, and is now reunited by a draw-bridge. This and St. Elmo constitute the only defences of the town. From this point, and indeed from the foot of the Toledo, a fine quay, guarded by a balustrade, extends for nearly a mile along the shore of the bay. Between the sea-wall and the splendid avenue of the Chiaia, lies the Villa Reale in the form of a parallelogram, half a mile in length, and perhaps five hundred feet in width, overhanging the water, and separated from the road by a handsome iron railing. It is intersected by gravel walks in all possible directions; planted with acacia, ilex, and other shrubbery, in the style of English park scenery; ornamented with two Grecian temples, one dedicated to Virgil and the other to Tasso; refreshed with fountains, meagre in comparison with those of Rome; and filled with statues, chiefly consisting of copies of the most celebrated pieces in Italy. The famous Farnese Bull was here once turned out to pasture, but is now confined to a dark, dirty stall in the Museum. Most of the other choice articles have also fled for covert, from the mildew of the sea air. We saw half a dozen lazzaroni at work with handspikes, in loading upon a dray some colossal god, destined to fill a niche in the gallery. The Royal Villa or more properly Garden, (for their is no lodge in it save a mean coffee-house, where the Neapolitans eat ice-creams and drink beer,) is the fashionable promenade for the higher classes, especially on Sunday afternoon, when they are attracted thither by the music of a large and excellent military band. On these occasions, the whole area, is filled with crowds of both sexes, in dresses more splendid than rich, more gaudy than neat. All the beauty which the city can boast flaunts along the alleys, and Austrian plumes and swords glitter among the shades. But the pedestrians do not compose the whole of the group. The Chiaia opposite the Garden, open to it on one side and bordered on the other by a range of lofty houses, is the termination of the Corso, where all the carriages and equipages in town parade every evening. Many of the fashionables, who probably dine on macaroni for six sous a head,* appear upon the course in style, with footmen in livery and chasseurs for their protectors! They often sit in their coaches for an hour at a time, to be gazed at through the iron grates of the Villa Reale, waiting for some whiskered hero from the banks of the Danube to come up and make his bow. The Our voyage terminated at the Royal Garden, (for which by the bye the Neapolitans are indebted to the French ;) but instead of lingering longer amidst its bustle and gaiety, let us walk on half a mile beyond, climb the hill of Pausilypo, and muse at the Tomb of Virgil. I have often strolled to this rural retreat and read many a favourite passage of the poet at his grave. My first visit was at sunset, in company with the American Chargé des Affaires at Naples, the United States Consul, and others of our countrymen. We were all delighted, though to most of the party the scene was not new. mausoleum is situated in a garden, shaded with vines and fig trees, on the southern brow of the hill, commanding one of the finest views of the whole bay, and its picturesque borders. Under a cliff overgrown with ilex, in the most secluded part of the cnclosure, a rude monument of stone, in a ruinous condition, is consecrated by the name, though it no longer retains the dust, of the poet. The interior has a low arched ceiling, like a vault, with eight niches for cinerary urns in the sides, and three windows darkened by festoons of vines and ivy, with which the outside is richly mantled, giving it the appearance of a green mound. A tablet on the cliff opposite the entrance bears the following inscription: "Qui cineres? tumuli hæc vestigia ?—conditur olim Ille hoc qui cecinit pascua, rura, duces." * I am informed on good authority, that a majority of the Neapolitans live for about 10 cents per head a day for food. House rent is high, owing to a heavy property tax. "Whose ashes-the vestiges of whose tomb are these? Here rests the dust of the poet, who sung flocks, tillage, and heroes." Both the Latin and punctuation are so bad, that for some time we were puzzled to make out the meaning of the inscription. On turning to "the Classical Tour" of Eustace for assistance, what was our astonishment to find a most egregious blunder even at the tomb of Virgil. Instead of giving the above lines, he places the following on the selfsame tablet: 66 "Mantua me genuit; Calabri rapuere: tenet nunc He introduces this old distich with the remark, that “ the epitaph which, though not genuine, is yet ancient," and that every body is acquainted with it!" Whereas it is not 66 ancient," ," (for it bears date of the 16th century ;) and there was one traveller at least who knew nothing about it. A detection of this gross error among others led us to believe, that the charges of Hobhouse against the authenticity of Eustace are not without foundation. In one of my rambles to the Tomb of Virgil, I visited the monument of Sannazaro, the great Neapolitan poet, and secretary of Frederick II. of Arragon. It is in the church of Santa Maria del Porto, elevated upon the acclivity of Pausilypo, and overlooking the bay. A superb pile of white marble rises behind the High Altar. The front is enriched with a profusion of sculpture, which is in bad taste. In allusion to some of the poet's pastoral writings, the skulls of two sheep are placed among the ornaments in front! But this is not the most ridiculous of the embellishments. Upon the pedestal of the statues of Apollo and Minerva, some pious monk has placed labels bearing in large letters the names of David and Judith, thus forcibly converting the heathen divinities into Hebrew saints, without even a change of costume! The inscription on the tomb pretends to compare Sannazaro with Virgil; but it is enough to remark, that while comparatively few are acquainted with the former, the latter is read throughout the civilized world. Even the Neapolitan children lisp his name, and seem proud of showing his mausoleumn. In the same church, on the right of the front door, is a picture of the archangel Michael trampling Satan under foot. The devil is represented with the face of a pretty Italian woman, who is said to have fallen in love with a certain bishop, whose name has escaped me; and he, gallant man, to show the heinousness of her passion, directed the artist to clap her head upon the shoulders of the fallen Spirit! Thus have we arrived at the western extremity of the town, which some writers have pretended to say is twenty miles in circuit. But it would be just as rational to talk of the circumference of a lobster, with his legs inclusive; for it is spread over the hills, without walls, in an irregular form, and with long faubourgs branching out in all directions. In the rapid survey of its prominent features, it will have been seen, that few antiquities have been mentioned. The truth is, that Naples itself contains none, except what are found in the Museum. Though its foundation reaches back into the fabulous ages, the footsteps of the Siren Parthenope, amidst so many physical and moral convulsions, have been washed from the strand and obliterated from the hills. Even the site of the old city, before its destruction by the jealousy of the Cumæans, is not certainly known. Its first settlers were of Grecian origin, as its name imports; and some traces of their manners and customs are said to be still found among the peasantry. It does not appear to have attained to much magnitude or importance till the age of Augustus; and in the revolutions of modern Italy, its history is not very interesting, having done little else than change masters, without the display of any of those heroic virtues, which characterized the Republics of the north. Napoleon used to say, that the Neapolitans were the only people, out of whom he could not make soldiers. LETTER LXIII. OF NAPLES CONTINUED--CHURCHES--CATHEDRAL--MIRACLE May, 1826. With the exception of its charming scenery, its climate, and its interesting environs, Naples presents much fewer attractions to the traveller, than either Florence or Rome. The style of architecture is generally in bad taste, from the King's Palaces downward; and the churches will bear no comparison, either externally or internally, with VOL. II. 20 those upon the Tiber and the Arno. We visited the most celebrated of the three hundred, which the city contains! The Cathedral, notwithstanding its porphyry portals, its hundred columns of Egyptian granite, its Mosaic pavement, the embellishments of its high altar, and its candelabra of jasper, is a heavy, uninteresting building, presenting few objects to detain the visitant. It was our misfortune to miss the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius, the Patron of the city. One of the three annual miracles occurred a few days before our arrival. A surgeon in the United States Navy, alluded to in some of my former letters, witnessed the ceremony, and described it to us. It was a rare show, and the priests succeeded in the experiment to a charm, with peals of applause from the audience! In the opinion of our philosophical friend, the whole miracle is wrought by the natural warmth of the hand, operating upon the bottle, as upon a pulse-glass. A French juggler at the Café des Aveugles, would show off a hundred such tricks in a night. It is a moot point, whether the priests believe in this miracle or not. The faith of the multitude is undoubted, and their hopes of the year rise and fall with the thermometer, charged with the blood of the Saint! If it melts speedily, then prosperity awaits them; but if the fusion is obstinate, they rend the air with cries, believing that earthquakes, war, famine, and pestilence, are in store. With all their vices and moral degradation, there is not probably so superstitious a nation in christendom as the Neapolitans. Half of their time is occupied in marching about the streets, from church to church in ragged and masked processions, bawling the ora pro nobis. We were at several of their great religious festivals.* On these occasions, temporary altars were erected at short intervals along the Toledo and other principal streets, at which the priests officiated in turn, the assembled city kneeling upon the pavement. The windows and balconies of every house were hung with awnings and crimson banners; and galleries of ladies above, in full dresses and with angel faces, scattered showers of roses, for monks to trample upon, in their migrations from one altar to another. Females are not exempts in these musters. They do not indeed bear arms like the other sex, each *On the feast of Corpus Domini, one of the public squares was embowered with evergreens, and a two story Ionic temple erected pro tempore in the centre-the whole illuminated at night. |