The Church of the Gerolomini is very near the cathedral. The nave is formed by beautiful granite shafts, supporting arches, and above them are an entablature, a second order, and a flat ceiling; the decorations are exceedingly tawdry, but the proportions are good.
At a short distance is the Church of San Paolo, where two fine ancient Corinthian columns, with a portion of the architrave over each, advance from the front of the building, and seem to wonder at their own situation, now perfectly unmeaning. They are the remains of a temple of Castor and Pollux, built by one Julius Tarsus, freedman of Tiberius. The portico was entire so late as the year 1688, when Misson saw it, but it was thrown down by an earthquake towards the end of that year. There are some other traces about, of the walls of this temple, but nothing of any interest. Within the church there is a profusion of gilding and fine marbles. The disposition is bad, with alternate large and small arches, the largest of which are too small for the order employed in them. Yet the dark rich marbles harmonize with the low proportions, and produce a pleasing impression in spite of the faults of the architecture.
There is a little chapel in this neighbourhood belonging to the princes of Sangro, famous for three statues, in which the artist has endeavoured to please by a trick, and the appearance of difficulty overcome. The first is the figure of Modesty, covered with a thin, transparent veil. Disinganno is represented under the figure of a man struggling to liberate himself from a net, which envelops his body, and the third is a dead Christ, also covered with a veil, but less thin and delicate than that which seems half to conceal the figure of Modesty. They are all fine things in their way.
The Church of San Domenico Maggiore is more interesting to the antiquary, than beautiful in the eyes of the architect; indeed, almost the only things which will interest the latter, are two chapels of the cinque cento, (1508 and 1513) which however, are not very fine examples of the style of that period. The stone-work is Gothic. The piers were originally square, with a semicircular shaft on each side, but these shafts have been cut away, in order to make a sort of pilaster of the remainder, and the deficiency of strength is supplied by iron ties. The building is further defaced by modern stucco and whitewash. There are Gothic tombs of 1340, 1357, 1385.
The Church of Santa Chiara is also Gothic externally, and modernized within. The front has not been completed, but as far as we can judge of the intended arrangement, it was good. There were three doors below, a rose window above, and a tower-like buttress at each angle. Internally, it consists of a large simple nave, with low side chapels of little projection on the sides, and a gallery over them. It is a very light and elegant room, too light perhaps for a church. I suspect that it owes much of its cheerful magnificence to the comparative smallness of the lower order, the upper range of arches, in which the windows are placed, thus becoming the principal. Perhaps also the same cause may make it appear larger than it otherwise would, as the smaller arches are easily compared to the human figure. It is certainly a finely proportioned room, and though the details are not good, yet on the whole the parts are well distributed. Here also are four Gothic tombs; two of them bear date 1365 and 1362. The other two are without date, but one of them at least appears earlier than the dated ones. They are all nearly of the same style, and the ancient high altar of the church corresponds with them. Columns, with angels in front, support the soros; above this, under a tent, or pavilion, lies the figure of the deceased, and two angels are holding back the curtains. In one of them a statue of the Virgin is placed over this pavilion. A lofty tower, detached from the church, exhibits the Grecian orders, and as it is said to have been built by the elder Masuccio in 1310, the Neapolitans have claimed the merit of being the first to bring back the Roman architecture. The mistake is, however, sufficiently palpable; the lower part of the structure is indeed of that early date, and in a very fine, bold style of art, but without the least trace of Greek or Roman forms; the upper is adorned with two orders; but it differs from the lower in the character of the workmanship, as well as in the style of design, and is considerably posterior.
The Church of the Trinità Maggiore, or of Gesù Nuovo, is principally remarkable for having the face of each stone in front cut into a pyramidal form. The inside is a mixture of plaster and rich marble, excessively gaudy, and in the worst taste imaginable.
These churches are all in the same part of Naples, and are seen in a walk from the Toledo to the cathedral. The Church of the Annunciation is more distant. It is really a noble edifice, of modern architecture, though the disposition is rather too complicated. There are three chapels on each side of the nave, with doubled columns between them, and a continued unbroken entablature. The plan of the choir is more intricate, and reminded me of Santa Maria in Campitelli, at Rome. I first saw this church on a feast-day, when it was adorned with hangings of white muslin, and blue and crimson satin, forming a sort of lofty tent over the altar, enriched with gold and silver spangles and ornaments, and festoons of flowers. Neapolitan taste here seemed to be quite at home. It was the prettiest thing of the kind I ever saw, for the Roman hangings, though very rich, have a sort of gravity, not to say heaviness about them, producing an effect totally different from the gaiety and splendour of this decoration.
The Church of San Pietro ad Aram is not far from that of the Annunciation; it is large and rich, with eight arches on each side of the nave; this is a frequent number in the Neapolitan churches, while those in Rome seldom have more than three principal divisions, with perhaps a smaller one adjoining the intersection.
The Carmine is also a large and rich church, but inferior in point of architecture. The ex voto offerings are here very numerous. I visited several other churches, in which there is a profusion of architectural ornament, but the general character is that of dull, commonplace extravagance, as devoid of imagination, as it is of graceful proportion and good sense.
You will not suppose that I could reside at Naples, during the time of the liquefaction of the blood of Saint Januarius, or San Gennajo, or Gennaro, as he is called here, without going to witness this celebrated miracle. I was at the cathedral on the 19th, but it did not succeed on that day. The blood is exhibited for eight days successively, and it rarely if ever happens that it melts every day: it would be making the miracle too common. On the 26th I went again. There were many persons in the chapel, but it was by no means full, and they readily admitted me beyond the railing, into the inclosure by the altar. In a few minutes the officer appeared with his keys, and opened the little cupboard behind the altar, in which the blood is kept, and the priest took out the vessel. I looked as attentively as I could, to see if there were any appearance of ice in the cupboard, but I saw nothing. The outer vessel is in the shape of a large circular snuff-box, with a glass top and bottom: on one side is a handle, which appeared to be a hollow tube, open at the bottom, and to have no connexion with the interior of the vessel; opposite to this is a crown, and in the midst of the crown a moveable crucifix, fixed only at the base, which falls about as the vessel is held in different positions, but I do not think that either the crown or the handle had any thing to do with the liquefaction. Within this outer vessel are two vials, one very small, and spotted internally with a dark substance which adheres to the glass, and which may probably have been blood; this suffers no change: the other is a larger vial, in the form of a flattened spheroid, with a short neck, containing a dark looking substance, opake or nearly so, and forming a level line at about two thirds of the height of the vial. After this vessel was taken from its cupboard, it was placed upon a stand, and some old women, who are said to be hired for that purpose, began to squall. The silver bust of Saint Januarius was then produced, dressed in a mitre, and other garments of the priesthood; and a cross suspended to a collar of pearls was hung round his neck. This mitre was soon afterwards changed for another, two nosegays of artificial flowers were stuck in his breast; and thus adorned, he stood on the altar with his face towards the people, during the whole of the ceremony. When this was arranged, the officiating priest (I do not know whether it was the archbishop,) resumed the vessel containing the blood, kissed it, put it to his forehead, and kissed it again, as he had done on taking it out of the cupboard, and began to recite a service. After the regular service on the occasion, other prayers, &c. were added, since the blood shewed yet no inclination of dissolving. Meanwhile the old women became more and more noisy, their voices were elevated to the highest scolding pitch, and one would imagine they were abusing all the saints in heaven, instead of praying for mercy. At last the blood melted, and they began to bless St. Januarius, and to weep for joy. The first indication of fluidity was, that the dark looking mass slipped round, when the vessel was inverted; the external matter then very soon became quite fluid, but there was a lump in the middle which diminished continually, but was not entirely gone when I came away. I was near enough to have touched the officiating priest during any part of the ceremony, and therefore you may depend upon this as an accurate account of what took place that day. All the appearances seem to indicate the effect of increased temperature, affecting, as it naturally would do, first the external part of the mass. The chapel became very hot during the ceremony, from the great number of people and of candles, but it is evident, from the way in which it is kept, that this warmth can penetrate very slowly to the vial of blood. One difficulty seems to arise from the unequal times at which it melts, under circumstances apparently very similar. A morning or two before, Mr. L. saw it performed in ten minutes, and yet there were not many persons present; the morning in which I saw it, it took thirty-five minutes, and sometimes it does not melt at all. The part that became fluid was not merely softened. It ran quite freely, and without adhering to the glass. I should conceive it to be some resinous substance dissolved in spirits of turpentine, and if there were such a mixture which would dissolve at uncertain temperatures, I should be glad to suppose it to be that, because it is unpleasant to charge such a number of persons, as must necessarily partake in it, with so gross an imposture. But I am afraid my condition will be pronounced impossible.