Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

SKETCH OF THE CITY OF NAPLES.
No. III.

THE third fine promenadable road
leading from Naples is that which
goes into Apulia; but unfortunately,
it is necessary to traverse the city
from one end to the other, and to
pass through some of the dirtiest
streets in Europe, in order to reach it.
You go out by the Porta Capuana,
which was built as a triumphal arch
for the Emperor Charles V. to pass
through on his entrance; it is remark-
able for its bad taste. On passing
from this gate you keep straight on,
leaving the road which leads to the
Capuan, or northern road, to the left;
a mean borgo extends to the edge of
the Arcnaccio, a deep fosse which
runs along the line of the borghi;
in the rainy season the water which
descends from the neighbouring hills
collects in this ditch, and rushes
rapidly downwards to the sea: no
bridge was thrown across until the
year 1762; and as the waters some-
times rose in this channel to the
height of six or eight feet, the road,
leading to some of the finest pro-
vinces of the kingdom, was occa-
sionally liable to a total inter-
ruption. During summer, when the
fosse was dry, it was frequently
used as
a field of battle by the
Sassajoli, a body of men whose num-
bers frequently amounted to two
thousand, and who had acquired that
on account of their skill in
throwing stones; this skill was often
productive of very fatal effects; the
Sassajoli used to assemble here in
great numbers, and fight desperate
pitched battles. About two centuries
ago, their amusements were interrupt-
ed by officers of justice, who sent
thirty of their leaders to the galleys,
and in short, persecuted this spirited
class so much that at length it was
heard of no more; still the art was
not lost, but is preserved to this day
by the Lazzaroni, as we have fre-
quently had occasion to observe.
Passing the bridge, the road leads on
towards Cardinale, having to the
right the fertile Paludi, spread out in
all their abundant variety. These
marshes were at one time unhealthy
swamps, abounding with wild fowl,
and rendering the city and neighbour

name

ing country insalubrious in the summer, but they were drained by Alphonso I. and soon became very productive. At present they form an immense kitchen garden, are admirably cultivated, and are the most valuable lands in the kingdom. The road three or four years ago was shaded by trees for a mile and a half, and was then far more agreeable than now; but the trees have been cut down and sold, and the beauty of the place necessarily impaired. Along the road there are several fountains erected long ago for the ornament of the place, and to afford a refreshment always welcome in hot countries; but now they have been long neglected, the sources of some of them are dried up, the waters of others stagnate in the marble basins, and their filthy green scum disgusts instead of inviting.

The pedestrian will do well to extend his walk along this road for about a mile, when he will arrive at the scattered ruins of the Palazzo of Poggio Reale, commonly called Palazzo della Regina Giovanna; and here popular tradition is not so incorrect as it is with regard to the palace of Posilippo, for, according to old Neapolitan writers, a palace was erected just on the spot by a prince of her family, and she herself was much accustomed to reside there. The ruins now visible, however, are the remains of a palace built by Alphonso, son of Ferdinand I. on his return from having delivered Otranto from the Turks: he sent on purpose for a Florentine architect, and employed two painters, Pietro and Polito del Donzello, brothers, to represent on the walls the famous congiura of the Barons, ostensibly against his father Ferdinand, but really against himself, and which he had the good fortune to overthrow. In some places you still see little fragments of this painting, which was esteemed a great work at that time, and was indeed one of the earliest extensive efforts of native art. The interior courts are now turned into cabbage gardens; two canals pass through them, the waters of which turn two mills, that

are built on the site of the palace; a large hall is converted into a miller's magazine, and two families of peasants have contrived to make dwellings in two different parts of the ruins. A little below the palace is a peschiéra, or fish pond; beyond this, in the time of Alphonso and several of his successors, there was a wood which reached to the sea, between Naples and Portici; it was used as a royal chase, to which, say the serious historians of the country, the kings of the Arragon line frequently resorted, being sommamente portati per la caccia. Within the ruins there are two holes now choked up, which the people show as the trabocchello of Queen Giovanna, into which she had the praiseworthy custom of precipitating her lovers, when she was tired of them. This Queen bears a most frightful character among the vulgar, who all tell the same tales of her atrocities, and seem to regard her as supernaturally wicked. We must not forget to say that this place has the reputation of being infested by spirits.

The river Rubeolo, which runs a little to the right of the road, rises from different sources in the plain, and the greater part of the waters which descend on that side from Vesuvius run into it. This stream would be considerable, if it were not diminished by hundreds of canals, which carry off its waters to irrigate the plain, producing a fertility which is perhaps almost unequalled; and, besides turning a great number of mills, which are employed in the service of the city, a considerable part of the water is carried to Naples in aqueducts for domestic purposes. One of the sources of this river is in a place called Cancellaro, about six miles from the roots of Vesuvius, and about five from the sea; it is called La Fontanella; there is here a large deep cave, into which the water drops incessantly through the earth, and then passing for some time through subterraneous passages, appears at a place called La Bolla, where the waters by their vexed and hasty rushing seem to boil, and where the river is crossed by a strong dike of coarse marble. This place is generally but little visited by foreigners, on account of there being no coach road, but it affords a very pleasant walk; the country around is interesting, and is

speckled with many villages, which lie in picturesque patches around the base of the dark Vesuvius, and his compeer, the Somma.

The Rubeolo has been curiously confounded with the Sebeto; for, in fact, it is the Rubeolo, and not the Sebeto, which runs under the Ponte di Maddalena. The Sebeto really rises by the monastery of San Severino, which is indeed in the same plain (the pianúra di Maddalena); but by a felonious earthquake, three hundred years ago, the Sebeto was buried, and has ever since continued to wind its way in subterraneous darkness; and discharges itself into the sea without any notoriety whatever. In some of the lower parts of the city of Naples, there are, however, apertures through which the river may be seen, but they are few, and not generally known. Authors, subsequent to its interment, unaware of that circumstance, transferred to the humble Rubeolo the name and honours of the deceased Sebeto; and poets, knowing that Rome boasted its Tevere, Florence its Arno, London its Tamigi, &c.; determined, of course, that Naples must have some river to sing of, and accordingly they began with great fervour to tell of "bel Sebeto in rivo," "Le Ninfe del bel Sebeto," "Le chiare onde del rinomato fiume, &c." and all this admiration was bestowed upon a stream, which in England would receive the contemptuous appellation of ditch. One of the most considerable literary societies which now exist in Naples derives its name from the Sebeto, and has been accustomed, God knows how many years, to produce on a certain day odes and sonnets, in honour of the Rubeolo, under the usurped title of the Sebeto, while meantime the "real Simon Pure" has remained in total neglect. Our amiable countryman, Mr. Mathias, who has distinguished himself so much by his Italian poetry, has contributed his praises also to this classic river, and talks about the Sebeto and the Tamigi.

Over the ponte di Maddalena runs a fourth considerable road, it is broad and very good, as far as Portici; it lies near the shore, is well paved with flags of lava, and commands a broad and cheerful view of the mountains and the bay.

The last road which we

[graphic]

mention, is the Strada Nuova di Capo di Monte, which continues straight on from Toledo, leaving the Studj on the right, and passing over a good bridge which is suspended at a great height in the air, and connects the sides of a deep valley, in which stands an odd part of the city called La Sanità. The road was constructed, and the bridge erected, by the French; for Charles III. who built, or almost built the palace on the hill, forgot to make a road to lead to it; this approach has been repaired and kept in good order by the present king, who is much at tached to the residence mentioned above, and who, before the present way was constructed, was obliged to have his carriage drawn up the hill by wains of oxen. From the bridge, you see the façade of San Gennaro de' Poveri, a large building appropriated to poverty and age, through which you pass to the entrance of the catacombs, of which several ramifications run under the traveller's path. The road stretches up the hill, in a fine ascent, deviating in a few easy turns, until it reaches the summit, where stands the royal palace; this edifice is very heavy, rather large, and very red; as usual, it is not finished; the gardens attached to it are very pleasant, but the public is churlishly denied admittance, even when the king is not there. From a ridge a little beyond, you obtain a wide and beautiful view of the bay, coasts, and islands, a good part of the city and port, and the opposite hill crowned by San Martino, and Sant' Elmo; behind, rather to the right, is the wooded hill of Scudillo, which runs into the hill called Arionella, the birth-place of Salvator Rosa, a little above the Vomero; the Scudillo abounds in those curious pines we have already mentioned, and just over the farther end of it is seen the convent of the Camaldoli, with a few trees before it, situated on the highest eminence in the immediate neighbourhood of Naples.

[ocr errors]

The road descends on the other side, and passing under the Pontè Rosso, an old and ruined aqueduct, comes out below Capo di Chino. The

whole of the scenery through which it passes is very picturesque; it is a constant succession of beautiful slopes, adorned with country houses and vineyards; in several parts the vines hang over the road, and occasionally the eye plunges into the dark weedy recesses of chasms which cleave the hill.

We have now mentioned the principal spots around Naples which are remarkable for their beauty, and which have powerfully contributed to draw the curious, the lovers of the picturesque, and the luxurious, from all parts of Europe; we shall briefly change the scene, and pass, from those beautiful spots which are deserving of all the praises that have been bestowed upon them, to the haunts of the Neapolitans-the real maccaroni eaters who have not the least "gusto forestiere," and who, if they had the same means of living, would be equally content if Naples were placed in the dullest heath that ever sun shone on.

The city of Naples stands between the sea and the hills, and has but little depth in proportion to its length; the streets leading from Toledo, towards the hill, are generally built on pretty steep slopes, and in rainy weather serve as channels to so many rapid though shallow rivers; this is sufficiently uncomfortable, but it is not without its use, for the rain is the only public scavenger in Naples. Leaving Toledo, we turn down the Strada di Maddaloni, where on one side a number of comb-makers are seen sawing and rasping, and on either side there are dull shops called Copisteria, where dwell men cunning in languages and the arts of writing and spelling, whose business it is to translate and to copy law instruments, memorials, &c. The Strada di Maddaloni, though under different names, leads nearly to the extremity of the town; in going along, we first pause in the Largo del Gesù, in which is reared one of the highest and ugliest of the Guglj, those true Neapolitan architectural monsters; and the left side of the square is formed by the embossed front of the great church of the Gesù Nuovo. After this, the street takes the name of Santa Chiara,

* There is another fine road for pedestrians (it is almost too steep for carriages), called La Salita del Vomero.

and on advancing a little farther, we pass the ancient church of that name, with its high square Norman tower, and soon reach the Largo S. Domenico Maggio, where another ugly gúglia, but not so high as the former, demands its share of contempt; after traversing this, we enter into the Strada San Biagio de Libraj, which, like Santa Chiara, is a continuation of the same long line. Hardly any thing is to be seen here but bookseller's shops; it is, in fact, the Paternoster Row of Naples, and a very poor Paternoster Row it is; the shops are low, dark, mean, dirty, and very badly stocked; it is difficult to get any foreign or new Italian work here, except at one bookseller's, who is a Frenchman, and is kind enough to procure them for about double their value, within two or three months' notice. The street soon changes its name again, becomes narrower, and is called "Strada Seggio del Nilo;" the shops at the beginning of this part of the range are chiefly filled by religious prints, such as Madonnas, Saints, and Crucifixes, people praying and burning in purgatory, martyrdoms, miracles, &c.; and at the farther end are wholesale manufacturers of saints of both sexes, gilded ornaments for church candlesticks, crosses, eternal flowers, &c. &c.

Leaving the Seggio del Nilo, we go up by a cross street to the great Strada Tribunale, which is dirty and narrow, like the one we left; here there are two other abominable guglj; indeed, the Neapolitans have been very liberal of these memorials of their bad taste; the Strada Tribunale ends at the Vicaria, a very large building, formerly the habitations of the Viceroys, and now the seats of justice, and the criminal prisons; at this now plebeian end of the town, there are a great many old and large palaces, as in former times the nobility inhabited this part, which is now deserted by all whose finances permit them to seek more modish quarters. On the other side of the Strada Nilo, there is a strange set of streets, each of which is occupied by a particular trade; one, for instance, by coppersmiths, another by blacksmiths, another by weavers dyers, and another by coopers, and so on, through a great variety: the greater part of these artists usually

and

work in the street; the blacksmith's anvil is placed perhaps under a gate way when it rains, but usually it is hoisted on a block in the path; hammers whirl round, sparks fly, and files grate upon the ear, in one street, and immediately upon quitting it, we get into another, where there is equal noise and confusion by squeaking saws and gliding planes. In the same direction is the Neapolitan Mint, a very roomy building, wherein they contrive to make very bad mo ney.

Many of the streets inhabited by the trades end in one large one that leads to the mercato, which is, as the name expresses, a marketplace: it is a very wide square; on it stand the church of San Lorenzo, the Torre del Campanile, the church of La Madonna del Carmine, the for tress of the Carmine, and several other noted edifices. This was the scene of the tumults, eloquence, triumph, and death of the unfortunate demagogue, Masaniello; and it was also the place where the patriots of ninetynine suffered for their principles, and resigned all their politics. It was here also, "i' the olden time," that the youthful and gallant Conradin was caused to be beheaded by Charles of Anjou, being clearly convicted of having a just title to the throne of Naples. In one part of the mercato stood, until a few years back, the little church, or cappélla, of Santa Croce di Corradino, just before which, on a lofty scaffold, covered with velvet, he, with the Duke of Austria, endured his fate, whilst his conqueror enjoyed the scene from a neighbouring tower; and among the immense and pitying crowd, not a man was found bold enough to take up the glove which the prince threw among them, as an investiture of his kingdom. Conradin's body, which lay exposed in the place until it was in a state of putrefaction, nobody having courage to bury it until an order was given by Charles, was deposited in the chapel, but afterwards removed by his mother, and placed behind the Altare Maggiore of the Carmine. Almost the whole of one side of the Mercato is formed by an extremely large building, called Il Banco di S. Eligio, which has been a monastery, a hospital, and a bank; but what various purposes it answers now we know not.

Between the long streets we have mentioned and the Marina, there is another batch of streets, or quarter, called, "Abasso di Mercanti," where all the mercers, dealers in cloth, &c. live. The Strada delli Oréfici, where none but goldsmiths carry on a trade, is also near here, and is a smart place: you see exposed to sale the tawdry ornaments which adorn and impose upon the plebeians; large hoop ear-rings, with pendants half the size of one's hand, and weighing, perhaps, three quarters of an ounce each, stuck all over with dingy pearls and bits of coloured glass, all manufactured and arranged in true Neapolitan taste, which consists in disposing things to the worst advantage possible, are here displayed in great profusion, as also immense quantities of rings, crosses, and cornicelli, or little pieces of twisted coral, which are worn about the neck as charms against the jettatura, or evil eye, in which every true Neapolitan "most powerfully and potently believes." In the same line is a range of streets so narrow that they seem to have been constructed with the intention of trying experiments on suffocation; the houses are incredibly high, and in many places a person, by extending his arms, touch both sides of the street at once; at the same time, there are so many bendings, and turnings, and corners, that little short of conjuration can deliver the wanderer who has once bewildered himself in the dingy labyrinth. It is awful to reflect, whilst traversing this part of the town, on the fearful mortality which would Scourge this filthy race if a contagious disease were to make its appearance here; scarcely two out of ten, we apprehend, would escape, and the catacombs, which are yet choked in some places with the skulls and skeletons that were the harvest of the plague in 1656, would receive a supply sufficient to tell a tale of fear in ages to come! Were it not for openings towards the sea which admit the cool air, these streets would be suffocating during the summer heats.

can

A fine well paved way runs from the Molo along the shore to the end of the city in that direction; it is broad and open to the sea all along. This walk would be delightful, for the si

tuation is excellent, the breezes blow fresh from the sea, and Vesuvius frowns across the smiling waters; but it is lined by a number of mean and irregular, though lofty houses with broken windows and unpainted balconies, and the place is offensive from the skins which the tanners lay out to dry in the sun on the pavement, and from the materials which those artisans use in their business.

Here we conclude our first sketch of Naples; at a future time we shall return to this subject, and describe rather more at large some of the remarkable objects; we shall also endeavour to give you an account of the character, customs, manners, state of society, and amusements of the people; subjects which we cannot consider as trite, since we have seen but little relating to them that has appeared to us to be correct. Our descriptions, as far as we have gone, are not perhaps what you expected; it may be so, for we have attempted to describe Naples tale qual' è. Do not suppose that, because we remark the blemishes in this beato soggiorno, that we are prejudiced against it, or are led by a splenetic spirit to decry what others applaud. No; we are not insensible to what is valuable about Naples; we are familiar with all her matchless scenes; and we love her in spite of her abominations. Naples is not a place for good society; it is not a good place for solitary study; for theatres, balls, and masquerades, it it has many superiors; it is not a cheap place for foreigners; Paris is as cheap, and every city of Italy much cheaper; it is not a comfortable place to live in, it is not clean, it is not quiet-it is none of these! but it has beauties around, which to be conceived must be seen, and once seen, must become a part of memory. Every step taken in its vicinity presents views by which some important passage of mythology, or poetry, or history, or legend, is recalled;-some secret of nature reveals itself in every hill, in every hollow; and all her shores, and capes, and islands, are thickly strewed with the wrecks of antiquity. Could we share with you all we see and feel in but one of our walks, you might estimate the enticements of Naples rightly; but that we cannot do. Farewell!

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »