Chapter ii.
They arrived at Naples by day, in the midst of that immense population, at once so animated and so indolent. They first traversed the Via Toledo, and saw the Lazzaroni lying on the pavement, or in osier baskets which serve them for lodging, day and night. There is something extremely original in this state of savage existence, mingled with civilization. There are some among these men who do not even know their own name, and who go to confess anonymous sins; not being able to tell who it is that has committed them. There is a subterranean grotto at Naples where thousands of Lazzaroni pass their lives, only going out at noon to see the sun, and sleeping the rest of the day, whilst their wives spin. In climates where food and raiment are so easy of attainment it requires a very independent and active government to give sufficient emulation to a nation; for it is so easy for the people merely to subsist at Naples, that they can dispense with that industry which is necessary to procure a livelihood elsewhere. Laziness and ignorance combined with the volcanic air which is breathed in this spot, ought to produce ferocity when the passions are excited; but this people is not worse than any other. They possess imagination, which might become the principle of disinterested actions and give them a bias for virtue, if their religious and political institutions were good.
Calabrians are seen marching in a body to cultivate the earth with a fiddler at their head, and dancing from time to time, to rest themselves from walking. There is every year, near Naples, a festival consecrated to the madonna of the grotto, at which the girls dance to the sound of the tambourine and the castanets, and it is not uncommon for a condition to be inserted in the marriage contract, that the husband shall take his wife every year to this festival. There is on the stage at Naples, a performer eighty years old, who for sixty years has entertained the Neapolitans in their comic, national character of Polichinello. Can we imagine what the immortality of the soul may be to a man who thus employs his long life? The people of Naples have no other idea of happiness than pleasure; but the love of pleasure is still better than a barren egotism.
It is true that no people in the world are more fond of money than the Neapolitans: if you ask a man of the people in the street to show you your way, he stretches out his hand after having made you a sign, for they are more indolent in speech than in action; but their avidity for money is not methodical nor studied; they spend it as soon as they get it. They use money as savages would if it were introduced among them. But what this nation is most wanting in, is the sentiment of dignity. They perform generous and benevolent actions from a good heart rather than from principle; for their theory in every respect is good for nothing, and public opinion in this country has no force. But when men or women escape this moral anarchy their conduct is more remarkable in itself and more worthy of admiration than any where else, since there is nothing in external circumstances favourable to virtue. It is born entirely in the soul. Laws and manners neither reward nor punish it. He who is virtuous is so much the more heroic for not being on that account either more considered or more sought after.
With some honourable exceptions the higher classes pretty nearly resemble the lower: the mind of the one is seldom more cultivated than that of the other, and the practice of society is the only external difference between them. But in the midst of this ignorance there is such a natural intelligence in all ranks that it is impossible to foresee what a nation like this might become if all the energies of government were directed to the advancement of knowledge and morality. As there is little education at Naples, we find there, at present, more originality of character than of mind. But the remarkable men of this country, it is said, such as the Abbé Galiani, Caraccioli, &c., possessed the highest sense of humour, joined to the most profound reflection,—rare powers of the mind!—an union without which either pedantry or frivolity would hinder us from knowing the true value of things.
The Neapolitan people, in some respects, are not civilized at all; but their vulgarity does not at all resemble that of other nations. Their very rudeness interests the imagination. The African coast which borders the sea on the other side is almost perceptible; there is something Numidian in the savage cries which are heard in every part of the city. Those swarthy faces, those vestments formed of a few pieces of red or violet stuff whose deep colours attract the eye, even those very rags in which this artistic people drape themselves with grace, give to the populace a picturesque appearance, whilst in other countries they exhibit nothing but the miseries of civilization. A certain taste for finery and decoration is often found in Naples accompanied with an absolute lack of necessaries and conveniences. The shops are agreeably ornamented with flowers and fruit. Some have a festive appearance that has no relation to plenty nor to public felicity, but only to a lively imagination; they seek before every thing to please the eye. The mildness of the climate permits mechanics of every class to work in the streets. The tailors are seen making clothes, and the victuallers providing their repasts, and these domestic occupations going on out of doors, multiply action in a thousand ways. Singing, dancing, and noisy sports, are very suitable to this spectacle; and there is no country where we feel more clearly the difference between amusement and happiness. At length we quit the interior of the city, and arrive at the quays, whence we have a view of the sea and of Mount Vesuvius, and forget then all that we know of man.
Oswald and Corinne arrived at Naples, whilst the eruption of Mount Vesuvius yet lasted. By day nothing was seen but the black smoke which mixed with the clouds; but viewing it in the evening from the balcony of their abode it excited an entirely unexpected emotion. A river of fire descends towards the sea, and its burning waves, like the billows of the sea, express the rapid succession of continual and untiring motion. One would say that when nature transforms herself into various elements she nevertheless preserves some traces of a single and primal thought. The phenomenon of Vesuvius deeply impresses us. We are commonly so familiarised with external objects that we hardly perceive their existence; we scarcely ever feel a new emotion in the midst of our prosaic countries, but that astonishment which the universe ought to cause, is suddenly evoked at the aspect of an unknown wonder of creation: our whole being is shaken by this power of nature, in whose social combinations we have been so long absorbed; we feel that the greatest mysteries in this world do not all consist in man, and that he is threatened or protected by a force independent of himself, in obedience to laws which he cannot penetrate. Oswald and Corinne proposed to ascend Mount Vesuvius, and the peril of this enterprise gave an additional charm to a project which they were to execute together.
Chapter iii.
There was at that time in the port of Naples, an English man-of-war in which divine service was performed every Sunday. The captain, and all the English who were at Naples, invited Lord Nelville to come the following day; he consented without thinking at first whether he should take Corinne with him, and how he should present her to his fellow-countrymen. He was tormented by this disquietude the whole night. As he was walking with Corinne, on the following morning near the port and was about to advise her not to go on board, they saw an English long-boat rowed by ten sailors, clad in white, and wearing black velvet caps, on which was embroidered silver leopards. A young officer landed from it, and accosting Corinne by the name of Lady Nelville, begged to have the honour of conducting her to the ship. At the name of Lady Nelville Corinne was embarrassed—she blushed and cast down her eyes. Oswald appeared to hesitate a moment: then suddenly taking her hand, he said to her in English,—"Come, my dear,"—and she followed him.