“Our journey occupied the space of four days; we travelled without stopping, and long before we reached Naples, my strength was nearly exhausted from fatigue. When the boundaries of Italy were passed, and we had entered upon the fertile plains of Tuscany, my eyes dwelt delighted on all they saw. The peasantry in their fanciful costume, the blooming vineyards, and pretty cottages, all, by turns, enraptured me. Monsieur Belmont sometimes talked to me about Naples and my future career; sometimes read the everlasting newspapers, in which he seemed to take so lively an interest, and sometimes dozed away the time.
“We passed several beautiful villas, and fine plantations; in the latter, numerous male and female peasants were at work in the fields. Their care-worn faces, begrimed with sweat and dirt, bearing testimony to the labor they performed; from my heart I most sincerely pitied them. To stand for hours under the burning heat of the sun digging, ploughing, and gathering the grape when harvest-time arrived, could be no enviable task; the women were frightful, the sun had turned their naturally dark skins to a copper hue; their short petticoats exposed their sinewy legs and bare feet, large and ugly, from never having been compressed in shoes. They scarcely looked like human beings, and my gaze wandered quickly away in search of more romantic objects to dwell upon.
“We stopped an hour at Pisa to dine; and as everything is hurry and confusion at an Italian Inn, upon the advent of a stranger, Monsieur, learning that our dinner would not be ready for a quarter of an hour, took me down the street to look at the celebrated Leaning Tower of Pisa. We paused before its graceful front, and I looked up at the eight tiers of white marble arches, each different from the other in architecture, and each beautiful. We ascended to its summit by a circular stairway, which wound round and round within the building, till my head became confused; from the top I obtained a fine view of this ancient, and once powerful city. I looked down upon its broad, well-paved, but almost deserted streets, and recalled the warlike days of the republic. The tranquil Arno still ran swiftly past, as it did then; the plain on which the town stands was just as smiling and lovely, as in the days of yore, but the spirit of enterprise and commerce, which had once animated and enriched this classic town, had forever passed away.
“Dinner was ready when we returned. The excitement of the journey, and visit to the Leaning Tower, had almost deprived me of appetite, but my teacher made amends for my bad taste, by eating with the greatest voracity; he seemed to wonder at my indifference to the viands set before us.
“‘Why don’t you eat, child,’ he suddenly demanded, while masticating some oranges, ‘are you not hungry? I should think you would be after such a long ride; you had better eat something, for you will need nourishment before we stop again.’
“‘I don’t want anything to eat at present, sir,’ I answered, ‘and I have some biscuits in my pocket; if I feel hungry, I can eat them.
“Once more we were off; we now had company, in the shape of two Italians, young students from one of the universities of Pisa, returning home to Naples; they were handsome, talkative young men. The usual civilities having been mutually exchanged, Monsieur and they soon became involved in a long political discussion, interesting, I have no doubt, to them, but tiresome enough to me, since we take but little interest in that which we do not understand. Their conversation was sustained, apparently with much animation on both sides, for some hours. Monsieur Belmont talked well, he had seen a great deal of society, in all its different phases, and was a perfect man of the world; he did not look upon it with the same feeling of satiety, with which a roué views this fair earth; he had not the refinement, the elegance of mind necessary to form that character; his was merely the worldliness of a business-like mind. The young men with whom he conversed, were evidently inexperienced and unsophisticated; their views of life, and society in general, were certainly more theoretical than practical.
“It was the fourth day of our journey, we were rapidly approaching the enchanting Parthenope, the far-famed Eldorado of Italy. Already I could see the distant summit of Vesuvius, vomiting forth clouds of smoke. The majestic castle of San Elmo, upon the hill, and that of Castle Nuovo, by the harbor, looked like two faithful sentinels, watching over their beloved city. Innumerable vessels, from all quarters of the globe, and of all sizes and shapes, rode quietly upon the azure bosom of the beautiful harbor. The domes and spires of its gothic churches rose high in air, glittering in the sunshine. The character of the scenery had changed as we neared the town; the dense, gloomy forests of Austria, and the wild mountainous scenery of northern Italy, had given place to the rocky, volcanic soil, and level plains of the environs of Naples, adorned with grapevines and fruit trees, while far away in the distance I saw the dark-blue tops of the Appenines. Well may the Neapolitan exclaim, with patriotic ardor, ‘See Naples and die;’ he thinks it a piece of heaven fallen upon earth, the garden spot of the world, and, with justice, may he cherish this opinion.
“The coach horses dashed down the hill leading into the city, as if the prince of darkness was at their heels, dragging the diligence after them at furious speed. Our travelling companions left us as we entered the gates; and after dashing through the fashionable thoroughfare, the street called Toledo, the postillion drove in various directions, up one street, and down another; now through broad, handsome streets, now through dirty crooked lanes, until at length, he stopped before the door of a cottage, built in gothic style, of gray stone; it faced upon a quiet, pretty piazza, adorned with trees and flowers. Honeysuckle, myrtle and cypress vine, hung gracefully around the latticed windows of this sylvan abode. I wondered where my guardian was taking me to.