After satisfying our curiosity at old Capua, we returned to Caserta and visited the palace, an enormous pile of building, but with no effect externally corresponding to its vast size. The interior corridor is however very fine, and the staircase and the landing from it still more so, but it is vexatious to reflect that much of the marble used here was pillaged from the temple of Jupiter Serapis at Pozzuoli. The apartments are not in general very handsomely finished, but some of them are beautiful. In particular the king’s cabinet, with porphyry styles, and green panels with black and gold borders, pleased me very much.
The gardens are not beautiful, and a feeling of dissatisfaction is produced, when we see the enormous expense of the aqueduct, employed to produce an ugly and ill-placed cascade. The palace itself is placed too low, for though the ground rises gradually towards it for a great distance, the slope is not of itself perceptible; and if it had been erected on part of the still gentle, but sensible ascent behind the present edifice, the situation would have been admirable, both for the appearance of the building, and the pleasantness of the views from it.
LETTER XLV.
JOURNEY TO ATHENS.
Athens, January, 1818.
My friend Mr. Sharp and myself left Naples on the 11th of October. We had made a special agreement with a vetturino to convey us to Bari, and had entered into a great many particulars which our experience on former occasions had pointed out to us as expedient, but unfortunately we either forgot to mention, or mentioned it so casually, that we could neither of us be sure of having done so, that the usual expenses were to be paid. I had been very much hurried the day before, as is frequently the case with travellers just setting out on a new expedition, and did not get to bed till past one. At half past two a man was sent to call me. It was part of our agreement that we should not set off till five o’clock, and this interruption made me very angry; I therefore scolded the man and sent him away, but I could not sleep any more. This is one of the usual plagues of Italian travelling, and a very great one it is, since the time allowed for repose on such occasions, is seldom so much that we can well afford to lose any of it. The vetturino had promised that the carriage should come for us to the inn, but this part of his bargain he now refused to perform. This formed the subject of the second quarrel, and as soon as we arrived at the place from whence we were to start, we disagreed about the expenses. I have certainly had more exercise in scolding in Italian, than I ever had in English; scolding and bargaining are here qualifications of every day necessity. We found two gentlemen going the same road for seventeen ducats each, while we were each to pay twenty-four; this seemed to indicate that we were grossly cheated, or that the expenses had really been considered in our bargain, and the vetturino was so used to lying reasons, that he never thought of giving the really good one which he had to urge, which was, that these gentlemen were only going to Foggia, about two thirds of the distance. After a time all things were settled, only as a last trick we found that he had directed the driver to demand Spanish dollars, which are worth a few grains more than the Neapolitan piastres. The road lies along a comparatively level country, among groves of poplars supporting vines, to Cardinale, seventeen miles distant. Here the hills begin, and Sharp and myself went forward on foot up the first ascent, but the road winds between woody slopes, and we had no view over the country we had past. The descent exhibits a rich valley, bounded by a great variety of hills and mountains. Some parts are cultivated with corn or vines, others are covered with wood, while occasionally, a bold and craggy cliff gives spirit and variety to the scene. The road continues along this valley to Avellino, and here ended our first day’s journey, twenty-six Neapolitan, or about thirty-one English miles from Naples. Yet the road is neither bad nor hilly. Five carriages full of company left Naples together, which probably was the occasion of some delay, and made it very difficult to obtain accommodation at the inns; but it was desirable in point of security, as the road is not in very high esteem, although guarded in the worst part by a band of sixty-five robbers taken into the king’s service. On looking round at the different parties, S. and myself decided that our own companions were the most agreeable of the whole; of the two who were with us in the carriage, one was a gentleman perhaps thirty years old, who had been an officer in the French armies, and served afterwards under Joachim; for the latter circumstance he is now dismissed, although his appointments were at first confirmed to him by the present government. Our English laws have decided that it is no crime to serve the king de facto; the restored sovereigns of Italy have not adopted that salutary maxim, but in punishing men for doing their duty, have given their subjects a lesson that it belongs to them to decide who ought to be king; and have rejected their best officers from the service. Our companion made no complaints, but simply mentioned the facts as inquiries occurred in the course of conversation. An Italian is almost always improved by foreign military service. It enlarges his mind and improves his manners, without lowering his standard of morality; he is generally free from the puppyism, and violent esprit de corps, of which the French officers are accused. In all parts of the world the middle classes of society are the most moral; in Italy they are also the best informed, as instruction to a certain point is of easy attainment, although beyond this point, the progress of the human mind is checked as much as possible by the religious and political institutions of the country, and if a nobleman can read and write his own name, it seems as much as is expected. This state of things cannot last, but the French, in their revolutionary frenzy, put the lowest class at the top, and the remedy was worse than the disease. Revolutions are essentially bad things; the chances are terribly against a good ending; but a circulation of ranks, in which superior talents and virtues among the people gradually advance themselves and their families, while the higher classes, when unsupported by personal qualifications, as gently sink again into the mass, is essential to the sane condition of the body politic. Add to this a constitution where every one has his due weight; and let me add, that let his portion of political consequence be ever so small, no man ought to be entirely a cypher; and national prosperity must be the result. Our other companion was a brother of this officer, quite as much as the other inclined to render us those little services in which a native can so easily assist a stranger, not very well informed, but with considerable desire of becoming so. In the serpe, or cabriolet, were three natives of Livello, a town in Apulia, a little out of the high road. One had been a soldier, the second had also, I believe, been in service; the third was studying medicine at Naples. The most perfect equality seemed to prevail among them; they were all young, civil, and good humoured. Towards the end of the second day, the scenery became open and dreary. Sharp said it resembled the Yorkshire wolds; I compared it to the South Downs, but the hills were higher and not quite so naked. We slept at Ariano, where the antiquities are hardly worth notice; and the next day, a string of ten carriages set out together for mutual protection in passing the most dangerous part of the road near Ponte Bovino, where two carriages had been robbed the day before. Two young men from Lecce who had their guns with them, walked by the side of their carriages at the most suspicious spots, and there were two gens d’armes on horseback, and another escort belonging to a carriage travelling post, which here kept company with us. After the first mile or two the road lay along a valley, sensibly descending on the whole, though we occasionally had to cross little hills; these were rocky and bushy; rough, but neither bold nor high, and there is a great deal of uncultivated ground; this style of country continued to Ponte Bovino, where on a former occasion our officer had been attacked by robbers while he was sitting at supper, though he had a band of fifty men with him. Here we could procure nothing for dinner but bread and mozzarelli. These are pieces of curd, rather than cheese, from buffaloes’ milk, which are very good when roasted. At Rome similar things are called provature, but the name of these little items of food varies in almost every province. At Ponte Bovino we leave the valley, and on crossing the last hill of this part of the Apennines, the whole of Apulia, a dull and naked flat, lay before us, with the high, downy-looking Monte Gargaro in the distance. The third day’s journey concluded at Foggia, which is rather a handsome city, and exhibits some remains of Gothic, or rather of Lombard architecture in the cathedral, and some good pieces of the renaissance. We parted at this place from our agreeable companions, and at four the next morning, (14th of October) we renewed our journey, along a deep clayey track, through a flat open country, in a continued rain. Our remaining companions left us at Cerignola, and we proceeded alone to Barletta, where we arrived late, and had great difficulty in procuring beds. I could not see the English consul, but as we learned that a vessel which we had some hopes of finding here bound for Corfu, had already sailed, we determined to make no delay, but proceed according to our agreement to Bari. The weather during almost the whole journey was very wet, and still continued so, but the scenery improves from Barletta. It is true there is little variety in the ground, but it is less naked, and several towns, each standing in a very picturesque manner on a low limestone point advancing into the Adriatic, form a succession of pleasing objects. Their long horizontal lines seem to unite them with the rocky projections on which they are placed, and are finely contrasted with the tall and slender campanile, which is rarely wanting. The road passes on the outside of these towns, as in fact their situation places them rather out of its line, and their narrow and crooked streets render it desirable to avoid them. At Bari also a new road has been made outside of the town, although a small circuit is necessary for that purpose. In architecture Bari offers little interest, yet it is not without some buildings which deserve notice. The town occupies the situation already described, of a low limestone promontory, and the cathedral and one or two other churches, boast of domes. These are near to the cathedral and to the lofty campanile. They group remarkably well, and having no rivals, form the town into a single composition from whichever side you consider it. Another part of the line is well broken by the solid mass of a large church dedicated to San Nicola, but this is a plain, lofty building without tower or dome. Each of these churches seems to have been designed for two towers, but the general effect is better as it is. The cathedral externally is very much in the style of those of Lombardy, but the ancient doorway has been removed; and the appropriate divisions of a large wheel window which adorns the front, are also wanting, to the great detriment of its appearance; but though with these and some other accessories which have likewise been taken away, it might have been rich, it never could have been handsome; and the flanks certainly were neither rich nor handsome, nor even characteristic of a great public edifice, a fault more rare with those early architects. Some smaller circular windows have preserved their internal divisions, but these have rather the appearance of perforations in a single stone, than of being formed by intersecting rods. The campanile is a small tower on the top of a larger one, attached to the end of the transept, which is itself very tall and slender. Internally, the church has been modernized, but something of the simplicity of the ancient arrangement is preserved, and the richness of the choir, which is merely a large niche, highly decorated, is set off by the plainness of the other parts of the edifice.
The Church of San Nicola, the patron saint of Bari, is perhaps larger than the cathedral. It has been left imperfect, but retains more of its original structure. The architecture is Lombard, and we are informed that it was finished in 1197. Some of the ornaments are Gothic, but these may have been added. The shafts of the doorway rest on figures of animals. Internally, we are reminded in some parts of the arrangement of the church of St. Mark at Venice, but not of its rich decorations. A gilt and ornamented ceiling of comparatively modern date rests on whitewashed walls.
One little church at Bari has a small wheel window in the upper part, and in the lower a doorway, which we may call Norman. The mouldings of the jaumbs are continued round the arch without any indication of column or capital, or any thing to mark the commencement of the curve.
The English consul at Bari assured us that a boat to Corfu would cost three hundred dollars, as the usual price, but that with his interference we might obtain it for two hundred and fifty, or possibly, when we appeared to be startled at the price, for two hundred. We have since learned that such a thing may be had for one hundred and twenty, but the consul saw our anxiety to be gone. Sir H. Lushington had written to the consul at Otranto, in order to obtain for us a passage in the courier’s boat from that city, to Corfu. It did not seem quite certain that our object would be attained, but we thought it better to take our chance there, than pay such a price for a boat from Bari. The illness of my companion detained us a month in the latter place. We hired a lodging, and found a trattoria in the same house, which was very convenient in some respects, but Bari beats even Naples for noise. My occasional companions at the trattoria tell me that Bari is the most stupid, ignorant, brutish, ill ordered, and ugly place on the coast. Though a city of twenty-eight thousand inhabitants, it has no bookseller, and a few volumes in a tailor’s shop, formed all the literature I could find in the place, nor could either the consul, or the doctor, help me to a single work. The former indeed was useful at first to buy a little meat, or a fowl to make broth for S., but I found afterwards that it was much better to take that office on myself, and the superintendence of every other; for though I procured a man nurse, and the old woman of the house and her servant professed to do every thing, yet they did little but talk to each other in the highest scolding pitch in the sick man’s room, when I was not present; nor could I depend on the apothecary’s preparing the medicines, unless I stood by to look at him. The consul came, and said speriamo so often, that if I were not of a very sanguine temperament, I should have been quite in despair. I do not know whether in this he was prompted merely by curiosity, or whether, as he found he could make nothing of us alive, he hoped we might be more profitable to him dead, for he was continually teasing me with his proposed arrangements for the funeral. I amused myself as well as I could, studying Romaic, and sometimes collecting plants, but I was sadly at a loss for books, since I had made no provision for so long a stay. Towards the end of the time, I made an acquaintance with a lawyer of Conversano, who with his son was staying at Bari about some business; and by his means I procured an Ariosto, and he also taught us to use the Italian cards, which served to amuse the invalid while he was yet too weak to go out. At last we made our bargain for Otranto (with the accent on the first syllable) for twenty-four ducats. The journey was to be performed in four days; and we retained the power to dismiss our vetturino at the end of any day, if we should find the journey too fatiguing, paying at the rate of six ducats per diem, and in that case one ducat additional. In the morning however we had a quarrel, because he had promised a close carriage, and brought an open one, that is, a four-wheel carriage with a fixed head and sides, and curtains to let down in front; but at last we set off in it. The day was fine, and even hot. For the first four or five miles there is an artificial road, the termination of which was marked by a deep trench. Afterwards we had merely a track on the native soil, which is generally a rough uneven rock. The country is inclosed, forming olive-gardens, with corn underneath, and vines and fig-trees. The former are kept short, as in the south of France, and not trained to any support. After a time we got into a more naked country near the shore, which you might call a heath, only there is little or none of that plant, the principal ornaments being the bushes of lentiscus, and of a shrubby thyme or marjoram, and the leaves of the Asphodelus ramosus, and of the Scilla maritima, but the flowers were quite over. The little town of Pulignano is seated among plains of naked rock, intersected in almost every direction by exceedingly deep ruts. I thought it impossible to proceed, but our driver was very careful and very skilful. We slept the first night at Monopoli, which is again among groves of olive-trees, and our next day’s journey of thirty-six miles, was almost always in stiff clay, which on the whole was a relief, for we were so sore and bruised by the jolting of the first day, that I do not know how we could have borne a second on a road equally rugged. The ground between the olive-trees was no longer cultivated with grain, but covered with bushes of lentiscus, phillyrea, myrtle, various species of cistus, and the Quercus coccifera. A range of hills on the right agreeably diversified the prospect, and on the left the blue waves of the Adriatic sometimes appeared between the boles of the olives, and sometimes over their summits. We observed neither house nor living creature for a large portion of this day’s journey, which terminated at a miserable village called San Vito. Among the olives we frequently meet with trees of the Ceratonia siliqua, whose sweet pods are much eaten in Italy, but the variety introduced from these sources did not prevent a feeling of tiresome monotony, from the continued prevalence of the olive-grove. The direction of the road is marked by two parallel, low, stone walls, but for the most part it is quite impassable, and the track in use sometimes lying on one side of it, and sometimes on the other, we frequently had to cross the road and its boundary walls. The third day conducted us from San Vito to Lecce, and in the wilder parts the abundance of arbutus in flower, and loaded at the same time with its scarlet fruit, was very beautiful. Lecce is a fine city: you would complain in England that the streets were narrow, and laugh at some of the extravagancies of architecture, but you could find very few places to come in competition with it, or which had so much the appearance of a little capital. No money appears to have been spared in embellishing the churches, and it is a pity it was not spent under the influence of a better taste. We had not much daylight to see it, but a beautiful bright moon, and a clear cold atmosphere. The fourth day’s journey was a short one to Otranto, mostly over downs or heaths, covered with low shrubby plants, lentiscus, phillyrea, myrtle, pyracanthus, and different sorts of cistus, but at this time of year the effect of all together at a little distance, is much like that of an English common covered with furze, and occasional bushes of thorn. On entering the town we crossed a clear little stream, called the Idro, of the smallest size indeed, but it was the first running water we had seen since leaving Barletta, a distance of a hundred and fifty or a hundred and sixty miles. There is neither albergo, locanda, nor trattoria in the place, but the consul procured us a good lodging, and did all in his power to make us comfortable without expecting to make a bargain of us. There is no fine architecture at Otranto of any date, but there are curious hints, as indeed there are in most of the towns along the coast. The large balconies which frequently occupy the whole extent of the front, have a very good effect. The lower part appears very solid, with few and small openings, and the balcony itself generally partakes of the same massive character.
The style of the upper part is much lighter. Sometimes the centre of the building falls back in the upper stories, while the balcony runs across the opening, and over it a trellis is carried, supporting vines, and the contrast of colour and form thus produced is very beautiful and picturesque. In some houses at Otranto this recess is arched over, and this disposition is also usually ornamented with vines. These contrivances for living out of doors are better suited to a warm climate than to such a one as ours; yet I think some of these arrangements would not be unmanageable in our country. There are a great many effects produceable from open porticos and galleries, which give the Italian architecture a great advantage. We copy such dispositions, but with us there appears a want of good sense in them, which more than compensates the effect of light and shade; while in Italy, the appearance of air and shade is also that of comfort and pleasure.