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CASTELLAMARE.

103

LETTER XXI.

Castellamare-The Italian-A Storm at Naples, &c.

CASTELLAMARE, April, 1843.

DEAR E.-"Castellamare!"—it is quite a high-sounding name, and has doubtless once been an important stronghold, but it is now only a small town. It is interesting chiefly as the site of ancient Stabia, where once the torch of civil war, under Scylla, burned high and hotly. It seems impossible, as one stands on these vinecovered grounds of a bright spring-day and looks off on so quiet a scene, that war and havoc have once ploughed up the very rocks around. Yet it is true; and what the passions of men have left, Vesuvius has taken for its prey. The storm of fire and ashes that buried Pompeii stooped also on this town, and gave it a burial-place here upon the rocks that overlook the sea. An old castle still stands on the edge of the water, which once must have been impregnable. There are some mineral springs in the place, and other things of trifling importance which we did not see. The main object of interest was the view from the heights, which we mounted without the aid of donkeys, although pressed upon us with surprising liberality by their owners. At length, after toil. ing up a long ascent shaded by ilexes, and which Royalty never yet mounted on foot, we reached the Royal Villa, and passing it, went up, up, till we came to the "QUEEN'S Place of Prospect." It was a beautiful view; and made, thank Heaven, not for a Queen, but for Man-for every man who has a soul to enjoy it. To him they belong by a "peculiar right." The sea lay below us, swept by a strong gale, against which, here and there, was a ship leaning to the blast and beating anxiously into port. Closer in stood two war vessels, clothed from mast-head to deck, in flags, gaily flaunting out in honor of the birth of another Prince,-while,

farther off, the islands of Capri and Ischia looked blue and quiet as ever in their sea home.

Naples, ten or fifteen miles distant, bent beautiful as ever around the Bay,-while off on the right in solemn grandeur, towered away Vesuvius, lifting its solemn invocation to Heaven, with the lonely ruins of Pompeii sleeping humbly at its feet. Oh! how mournful they looked in that smoky atmosphere, as if scarcely daring to lift their heads in sight of their old and triumphant foe. Vesuvius seems omnipresent to the traveller around Naples ; he cannot turn a point, or ascend an eminence, or look back on his path, without beholding that bold, bleak mountain, looking moodily down upon him. It seems to stand so conspicuously as if on purpose to remind the gay Neapolitans that danger is ever

near.

Our guide was a talkative fellow, and seemed not in the least afraid to express his opinions. Indeed, he was a thorough-going Democrat, and, if he had the privilege of voting, would most certainly cast his ballot against Kings. I have always endeavored to get at the real feelings of the lower classes in Italy. Nobles and the like are very close-mouthed, knowing their words are watched and borne to other ears. When they speak on Governments, they speak as if in the audience-chamber of the King; but the Poor, whose words weigh nothing, are allowed to talk as they please; for a few bullets will quickly stop their prating when it begins to generate action. Hence, I have ever found them quite free, and usually very republican in their thoughts. I inquired of our guide how many palaces the king had. "Five," he replied. "How long does he live in this one during the year?" "A month, perhaps."—" Ah!" said I, "the king has five palaces, then. It must cost something to keep them all in order."—" Ah, è vero" (true enough), he rejoined, with that peculiar shrug which an Italian knows how to give. "Would it not be better to have less-say one or two-and give the avails of the rest to those poor wretches I see starving around me ?" "Yes, indeed; but it won't be." He seemed quite brief in his replies till I changed my tone; and, pointing to the glorious valley that spread inland from the sea, dotted with vineyards, said:" After all, I don't know but it is as well. Those people must be very comfortable

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7onder in the valley. I doubt not they have enough to eat." "No, no, Signore," he quickly replied, "they do not have enough to eat. The heavy duties take away all they earn. There is much misery there," said he, looking off on the lovely plain and shaking his head. "Well, but," I asked, "why do you have Kings if they burden you so heavily?" "Ah! what will one do? if we utter too many complaints we are thrown in prison; and what do we gain?" He seemed to take fire at once; and, hurrying on with all the impetuosity of an Italian, uttered a fearful tirade against the Government, and ended by saying:-" We want another Massaniello to lead us. But the time will comelet us wait the time will come when we will do thus to Kings,' [drawing, as he spoke, a piece of board he held in his hand across his throat with a gesture no one could mistake.] His eye fairly flashed as he said this; but the next moment it had all vanished, and, Neapolitan like, he uttered some careless joke. I sometimes think it is well these people are not serious or lasting in their feelings. Let a volcano rise up and bury two or three cities in any part of England every few years, and the country around it would be as desolate and uninhabited as the African Desert. But here they build on the lava before it looks fairly cold. A Neapolitan never thinks long on one thing; yet there is not a beggar in the street or a fisherman on the Bay that does not know the history of Massaniello. He is the People's Washington.

NAPLES.

To-night we arrived from Castellamare. Our road wound along the Bay-near Pompeii, through Torre del Greco, into the city. The sky was darkly overcast-the wind was high and angry, and the usually quiet Bay threw its aroused and rapid swell on the beach. Along the horizon, between the sea and sky, hung a storm-cloud blacker than the water. Here and there was a small sailing-craft, or fisherman's boat, pulling for the shore, while those on the beach were dragging their boats still farther up on the sand, in preparation for the rapidly-gathering storm. There is always something fearful in this bustling preparation for a tempest. It was peculiarly so here. The roar

of the surge was on one side; on the other lay a buried city— a smoking mountain; while our very road was walled with lava that cooled on the spot where it stood. The column of smoke that Vesuvius usually sent so calmly into the sky, now lay on a level with the summit, and rolled rapidly inland, before the fierce sea-blast. It might have been fancy; but, amid such elements of strength, and such memories and monuments of their fury, it did seem as if it wanted but a single touch to send valley, towns, mountain and all, like a fired magazine into the air. Clouds of dust rolled over us, blotting out even the road from our view; while the dull report of cannon from Naples, coming at intervals on our ears, added to the confusion and loneliness of the scene. As we entered the city and rode along the port, the wild tossing of the tall masts as the heavy hulls rocked on the waves, the creaking of the timbers, and the muffled shouts of seamen, as they threw their fastenings, added to the gloom of the evening; and I went to my room, feeling that I should not be surprised to find myself aroused at any moment by the rocking of an earthquake under me. The night did not disappoint the day, and set in with a wildness and fury, that these fire-countries alone exhibit. My room overlooked the Bay and Vesuvius. The door opened upon a large balcony. As I stood on this, and heard the groaning of the vessels below, reeling in the darkness, and the sullen sound of the surge, as it fell on the beach, while the heavy thunder rolled over the sea, and shook the city on its foundations,—I felt I would not live in Naples. Ever and anon a vivid flash of lightning would throw distant Vesuvius in bold relief against the sky, with his forehead completely wrapped in clouds that moved not to the blast, but clung there, as if in solemn consultation with the mountain upon the night. Overhead the clouds were driven in every direction, and nature seemed bestirring herself for some wild work. At length the heavy rain-drops began to fall, one by one, as if pressed from the clouds; and I turned to my room, feeling that the storm would weep itself away. Truly yours.

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Capua-A Priest-Cenotaph of Cicero-a Proud Peasant Girl.-Sunset on the Sea.

ALBANO, April.

DEAR E.-Bright and early on Wednesday morning our driver cracked his whip through the streets of Naples, and we rattled off for old Rome. Do not understand by this, that there was any thing like locomotive speed in our movement, for nothing would be farther from the truth. We had, however, four horses attached to our carriage, and the road was good enough to tempt a rapid drive, if the thing had been possible. We entered on a flat country covered with vineyards, and crossed with hedges, and came at noon to Capua, where we breakfasted. The dirty town is strongly garrisoned, and filled with soldiers and priests. An old Capuchin friar came into the yard of the inn soon after we arrived, rattling his wooden box, and asking in a whining tone for charity. He had a most amiable face, and its benevolent expression quite charmed me. He seemed to be aware of the impression he made upon me, for with his cowl thrown back from his shaven crown, and his cross and rosary dangling at his rope girdle, he approached me in a most insinuating manner, asking for alms, and promising to pray for me as long as he lived. I thought I would test his creed for once; and so pulling out a handful of small change, I rattled it before his greedy eyes and said, "You say then you will pray for me, if I will give you money?" "Si, signore !" "But a priest-your superior in rank, has told me, there is no chance for a heretic; that he did not even stop in purgatory, but went straight past into the lowest depths of perdition. Now you say you will pray for me; but if I am damned at the outset, your prayers will be of no use." “Oh," said he, "I will pray that you may become a good Catholic." "I

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