Capua is a small unimportant town, distinct from the ancient city of that name, which was situated at some distance, where remains of an amphitheatre are still visible, and which before the building of that of Vespasian, was considered superior to any in Rome itself; indeed old Capua is said, at one time, to have vied with Rome and Carthage themselves, in size and magnificence. It was here that the victorious army of Hannibal, is said to have been enervated by the luxuries of Italy. The alliance which this fated city formed with the Carthaginians, in opposition to its former mistress, proved its ruin; in the spirit of insulted majesty and retributive justice, it was besieged by the Consular armies. In vain did Hannibal exert his high military talents for the relief of his new friends; he could not force the Romans to abandon the siege, and at length the unfortunate Capuans were compelled to bow under the yoke of their conquerors.
Capua is distant sixteen miles from Naples, the intermediate country comprising one of the most fertile tracts of Italy, upon which nature has abundantly lavished her beauties and advantages.
About half way to Naples, we passed through the neat and modern town of Averso, remarkable for having one of the best regulated and most interesting lunatic asylums in the world, the results of which, as tending to the restoration of the patients, have been most felicitous. The system of treatment embraces an extended plan of amusement, of which the charms of music form an important feature.
“There is a charm, a pow’r that sways the breast,
Bids every passion revel and be still;
Inspires with rage, or all your cares dissolves;
Can soothe distraction, and almost despair;
That pow’r is music.”—Armstrong.
We reached Naples about four o’clock in the afternoon, and after the customary formalities of examining the baggage and passports, the former of which was much facilitated by some trifling pecuniary arguments, we were allowed to proceed to our respective quarters.