Sorrento is a charming little town seated on the crest of a hill called the Deserto. It is surrounded on the left by woods of orange, citron, and lemon trees, and on the right by the sea with the island of Capri, that seems to rise up majestically from the deep blue waters. On the far horizon one catches a glimpse of Nisida and Baia. This small town is inhabited by fishermen, orange-packers employed on the large landed possessions in the neighbourhood, and by most clever workers of inlaid wood, who have made their art so much in request by the thousand little trifles, so pretty in design and so carefully executed, that they make. Garguillo's manufactory is much renowned, and justly so. Not only do you find on the pieces of furniture cornices, fillets, meanders, and other graceful ornaments, but also extremely pretty figures inlaid on the boxes, little tables, and other nick-nacks with which well-to-do people embellish their rooms. Here the air is mild, and the sun is tempered by the shade of laurels and orange-trees. The character of the inhabitants is gentle and laborious, and through their acts and their words there breathes a quiet, ineffable melancholy, like the memory of a sweet pure dream. Their complexion is dark, and also their hair; their eyes have long lashes, and are cut in almond shape. It seems as if they looked with infinite sweetness at something immeasurably far off; their smile is sad, as if it recalled to them a lost existence that hope induced them to think not irretrievably lost. This favoured, I should almost say ideal, bit of nature, at a few miles' distance from the thoughtless vulgar noise of the inhabitants of Naples, is a thing commented on by all, but by no one reasonably explained. The climate so temperate, the air perfumed with the scent of orange-flowers, and the sweet melancholy on those faces, instead of rendering the place agreeable to me, made me profoundly sad. Why did my heart not open itself to the enjoyments of that pure, serene, and most beautiful nature? Why was it that that bright sky, that tranquil sea, that quiet industrious life, rendered me more sad and thoughtful? Perhaps it was because being so very weak I did not feel the strength within me to reproduce in art any of those many impressions that the mind took in and fancy clothed in most varied forms. One day I visited Tasso's house; and whilst, as usual, the cicerone explained in his way the singularity of that abode, I dwelt in imagination on the life and vicissitudes of that unhappy poet, and recalled the secret joys of that passionate soul after he had finished his Christian epic: I saw the courteous, handsome cavalier, the inspired poet, envied and conspired against by the favourites of the Duke and the literati, his rivals; the looks of the ladies, whose frank admiration was veiled in the shadow of profligacy; then the disorder, confusion, first in the heart, and then in the brain of poor Torquato, the suspicions of the Duke, his imprisonment, his lawsuit, his resignation and death; and I wept.
SORRENTO—RETURN TO NAPLES.
I decided to return to Naples—for this quiet full of fancies drove me back into myself, and made me more sad. I took up my abode in the centre of the great city, in Piazza Castello, at the Hotel de France, on the angle of the Strada dei Guantai Vecchi. In this hotel strangers were continually coming and going, and changing every day. The windows of my little apartment opened on the Piazza, and the mid-day and westerly sun bathed them in heat and light. Some artists, in compassion for my condition, came to give me courage; and among them I remember with profound sadness, for almost all of them are now dead, Cammillo Guerra, Giuseppe Mancinelli, Gigante, and Tommaso Aloysio Juvara, who had such a tragic end in Rome. The warmth of your heart turned your brain, my poor friend! but in your last moments you acknowledged your sin, and God will have been merciful to you. The other younger artists who are still alive are the sculptors Solari and Balzico, the miniature-painter Di Crescenzio, and Postiglione the painter. But my health was always the same. Professor Vulpes, to whom I had brought a letter of recommendation from Professor del Punta, continued to follow the same treatment as that indicated by the other Florentine doctors,—that is to say, prescribing preparations of iron, meat diet, rest, and tranquillity of mind. And in the meanwhile I had no desire to eat; my sleep was restless and of short duration; my legs would ill support me, and my mind was so depressed that I could not endure to read more than a few pages. As to writing, I was obliged to stop every moment or so; ideas got confused, and I could not separate them from each other or give them any proper shape. It was a great fatigue to me to give my news to Venturi when he desired to hear from me.
MY ILL HEALTH CONTINUES.
At last the longed-for day came which was to decide the question of my health. It was already two months since I had left my home; and although the journey to Naples and the air there had been somewhat beneficial to me, yet I was very far from entertaining the slightest hope of recovery—or rather this recovery was so slow as to make me lose all patience. At this stage good Professor Smargiassi, seeing me always so weak and melancholy, said to me, "Why do you not try the water-cure?"
I TRY THE WATER-CURE.
"What do you mean by water-cure?" I replied; and he explained it to me, adding, "Here in Naples there is Professor Tartaglia, who has effected some wonderful cures." He told me of some, and he added that he himself had tried this cure and had got well. As Smargiassi was a serious man, with a temperate habit of speech on all matters, his words carried weight with them, and I consented willingly to consult this hydropathic professor, and so sent for him.
Professor Tartaglia was an exceptional Neapolitan—that is to say, he had nothing of the vivacity of speech and manners that is peculiar to this warm-hearted, exuberant, and imaginative people; he spoke little and quietly, listened a great deal, and observed attentively. When he had heard of my complaints, he examined me, and after that said: "You have no disease, although you may not feel well; you will recover quietly and easily—of that you may be sure. In the meanwhile I will tell you that I shall not come again to see you; but instead, you must come to see me every morning at twelve o'clock to give me an account of how you feel. To-morrow you must take your first bath. Don't be alarmed—it is not a bath by immersion; you are not to go into the water," and he gave me the directions to be followed; and as he was going away he said, "Let alone the medicines that you have taken thus far."
The first morning this hydropathic cure seemed very arduous. To get out of one's bed and put on a sheet drenched with cold water is not the pleasantest thing in the world, especially at that season of the year (it was the last of December); but after the first impression, I can assure you that the external warmth finally produces a pleasant effect, and gives strength and elasticity to the body. After the bath, walking exercise should be taken for at least an hour. To my objection that I could not walk, the Professor answered, "Walk as much as you can, rest a little, and then continue to walk, and so on; you will see day by day that your strength will return, and with your strength, courage and happiness." In short, after a month of this treatment I was so well that I could walk easily eight miles during the day. When I wrote to Florence of the new cure that I had begun, Del Punta was frightened, and said that he would not be responsible for the result of this resolution of mine, which, to say the least, was hazardous; and that I ought not to have undertaken it without the advice of an ordinary practitioner—that is to say, of an allopathic doctor. His making this a condition tranquillised me, as Professor Tartaglia was really an allopathic doctor; but in some cases that were rebellious to that system of treatment he adopted hydropathy. Then, too, the result was so satisfactory, so decided, that all objections fell to the ground, and nothing more was said about it.
MY HEALTH IS RENEWED.