For a considerable part of the way the rain fell and heavy clouds hung upon the mountains, so that little could be seen of the scenery in the early part of the journey, which is the most interesting, as the line commands in many parts historical ground. We passed the Alban and Volscian Mountains; the town of Capua, where are interesting Roman remains; Caserta, where there is an immense royal palace; and many curious old towns resting upon the hills which the railway skirted. It would have been well worth while to have stayed at Capua and Caserta to have seen them, but it is difficult to arrange for doing so without spending a night by the way, or continuing the journey by a night train, because trains do not suit. This being the 26th of March, vegetation was in a very backward state, the trees just beginning to show symptoms of being about to throw out their buds, so that everything looked somewhat dreary. At last we arrived in Naples, after a seven hours’ ride, just in time to settle down before dinner.
The following morning we took a cab to drive through and see the town, and, looking to select a good one, I was beset by a host of cabmen, all wanting to be engaged, even after I had engaged one, and told them so positively. There is very little choice among them. The vehicles are all equally shabby, and the drivers all equally dirty. Their fares are very low, which may account for the disreputable appearance of the men and cabs, which are as numerous as bees in a hive. The coachmen will take any amount of trouble to get a hire. If, upon going to a place, say the Museum, they be dismissed, they will hang about for an hour, hoping to get the return fare. But driving is really the only way by which one can see some parts of Naples. The town swarms with people to an extent which, unless seen, can hardly be either realized or credited. In England, every rod may maintain its man, but in Naples, and even all about the Bay of Naples, it would seem as if not merely every square yard, but almost every square foot maintained its man, woman, or child. But how they all live, or even where they all sleep, is a mystery. The main street, the Toledo, a mile long, is so crowded, that one wonders how the carriages can possibly penetrate; and the people are such notorious thieves and such adroit pickpockets, that it is dangerous to attempt to walk on foot. Even in driving, the passenger must be very careful, as a thief will think nothing of abstracting loose articles, even in his very sight. At the railway station the traveller should keep a sharp look-out that the very porter who is taking his portmanteau to a carriage does not quietly run off with it. Knowing these habits, we left the most of our luggage at Rome, and only took with us what was indispensable, as every additional package is in such a case an additional anxiety.
The Bay of Naples is naturally the first point of attraction. One hears so much of its transcendent beauty that expectation is highly raised. I thought the accounts of it exaggerated; but then it was not summer, and therefore we could not see it in perfection; while we had just recently come from Mentone, where we had been living for months in sight of lovely bays. The blue waters of the Mediterranean in brilliant sunshine are always charming, and here they are enclosed in a very large bay—for it is about twenty miles each way—with one long arm stretching away and terminated by the island of Ischia, and the other long arm stretching away and terminated by the island of Capri; the outlines of all being picturesque, and all sides being dotted with villages. In the centre of the landward side Vesuvius boldly rises (the eruptions from time to time causing variations in its height, which, however, averages about 4000 feet), with a stream of smoke, betokening its character, constantly ascending from the summit as if from some colossal chimney; while below, a line of houses stretches continuously from Naples, probably fifteen miles, or perhaps even more, indicating how populous is this part of Italy. In the distance, behind Naples and Vesuvius, a range of the Apennines lies.
Naples itself, the largest and most populous city in Italy, is, from a little distance, picturesque, resting, somewhat like Genoa, on a half-circle of sloping heights, with a broad margin to the shore, the houses towards which are lofty, many being five and even six storeys high. In the central and denser parts of the town they are even higher, while in these portions the streets are mere lanes, 15 to 20 feet wide, and irregular; and if they be not absolutely unsafe to visit, must form a very labyrinth of perplexity to the stranger. In the newer parts of the city the streets are spacious and elegant. Every here and there, a jutting prominence or a bold height crowned with some peculiar structure gives character to the scene. The Chiaja is a long strip of land turned into a public garden or park lying in or towards the north end of the town, and fronting the sea. A broad street, the Riviera di Chiaja, flanks it, lined by the trees of the park on the one side, and by hotels and other buildings on the other, and terminated at the north end by Posilipo, a hill perforated by the famous grotto of that name, or tunnel, I presume half natural and half excavated, which affords an access to the other side. Up from the Chiaja, on a height, the Castle of St. Elmo stands, the interior of which our limited time did not afford us opportunity of seeing. Leaving the Chiaja by a handsome drive which has been formed by the shore, we pass the Castel del Ovo, which stands out into the sea, cresting a large rock or small island connected with the land by a mole or breakwater. It is ugly and old, but can scarcely, because it is so, be called picturesque, though at least it is striking or prominent; and I suppose it does or can, with other fortifications, offer some protection to the port; but it was, and perhaps still is, used as a prison, and, in spite of sunshine, is gloomy enough for that. From this point southward, commencing with the broad Strada San Lucia, the harbour lies, in which there is a moderate amount of shipping, but small as compared with that of Genoa. Life abounds about this harbour and the adjoining quays, along which broad streets run, filled with sellers of fish and other commodities, and with crowds of pedestrians and carriages. The road turns up from S. Lucia into the large open space called the Piazza del Plebiscito—one side occupied by a handsome semicircular colonnade, and the other by the royal palace, where the king was at the time of our visit residing, two equestrian statues in the centre of the piazza contributing to its adornment. The Toledo or High Street of Naples issues out of it. Proceeding farther along the harbour, and at its extreme south, we come to the Castel del Carmine, also forming a feature in the landscape, and from it a road leads up to the railway station, which is just outside the inhabited part of Naples. From the harbour, or any point which commands a view, the town looks bright and picturesque, and in rather striking contrast with its dirty population. Ascent of the lighthouse for the sake of the view is recommended.
The only church in Naples which we thought at all comparable to those in Rome was the cathedral, which is a large and handsome building. One of its side chapels is that of the famous St. Januarius, where the blood and other relics of the martyr are preserved.
The hotels are situated principally on the line of buildings facing the sea from the Chiaja southward to S. Lucia. But some new hotels have been opened on the high ground near the Castle of St. Elmo, thought to be a more healthy locality. This may or may not be, but one requires to be careful as to where he lives in Naples. In fact, the natural air of Naples must be extremely salubrious, to counteract, as it seems to a large extent to do, the evil influences arising from so large a population living upon so comparatively small a portion of the tideless Mediterranean. Were it otherwise, fever would be constantly raging, and Naples depopulated.
We spent the forenoon of the following day in the Museum. This is an immense collection of antiquities, principally from Pompeii, and is well worthy of several visits, without which, in fact, it cannot be properly studied. Illustrated catalogues can be procured, which are no doubt useful, but are expensive. Our time would only allow of a general examination. The Museum contains thousands of articles of great interest, and very many which show to what a state of perfection art had arrived at the time Pompeii was destroyed. The sculptures of all descriptions and pictures are very numerous, and among many others deserving of special note was the grand group called the Toro Farnese, of masterly power. It is composed of five graceful and pleasing human figures, besides the bull rampant and a dog, and other sculpture, and if cut out of one block of marble, would seem to be a miracle of art. Why it should have been removed from Rome to Naples I am not aware. But the Museum at Naples is very spacious and extensive, and may have afforded better accommodation than any place in Rome. Some of the rooms are filled with articles of domestic use recovered from the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii; and, what is very curious, in one room loaves of bread, grain of various sorts, dates, and other edibles 1800 years old are exhibited. Many of the curious frescoes found upon the walls of Pompeii have been removed to the Museum and built bodily into its walls. The colours of these frescoes are considerably faded, but copying them seems to afford employment to a number of artists, who, however, impart to their copies the supposed original brightness of the pictures, and one seldom sees an original Pompeian fresco possessing that vividness of colouring which representations of them usually manifest. One room is fitted up as a reproduction of a Pompeian bedroom, and gives a greater idea of luxurious comfort than one would imagine possible from the appearance of the rooms, now in ruins, which we afterwards saw in Pompeii itself.
The afternoon is the time for seeing the Chiaja, for then all the private carriages of Naples may be witnessed driving about; and on one occasion we had the good fortune to pass the Princess Margherita, now the Queen of Italy. Girls are on the watch to sell large and beautiful bouquets of flowers at marvellously cheap prices. An aquarium has been built near the centre of the Chiaja gardens, which we visited the morning of the day following, before going to Castellamare. It is not nearly so large as that at Brighton, but it is interesting enough. It contained, inter alia, a good many octopi, which repulsive fish is said to be sold and eaten in Naples, and, in all probability, occasionally appears under some disguised name at the hotel dinners.
Naples is a great place for the sale of photographs and articles of bijouterie in lava, and of coral and tortoiseshell. At Mr. Sommer’s Fine Art Establishment near the Chiaja, a large collection of beautiful photographs of almost all places in Italy is to be found. These are very moderate in price—the cheapest in Italy—as well as good, and in number exceed five thousand. I laid in a good stock, and only wish I had taken more. Any of them can be at once procured by reference to the number they bear. They are best kept flat, but if rolling be preferred, they should always be rolled up with the photograph side outwards. Why it is that photographs of a size which cost a shilling at Naples should be charged five shillings or six shillings, or even more, at home, I don’t know. But the consequence is that people buy the Italian photographs by the hundred, whereas at home, if they buy at all, it is by the unit. Our dealers plainly miss the market by their high prices. Mr. Sommer might do well to extend his operations to the towns of France and to Switzerland, where photographs are expensive.
Among other shops we also visited Squadrilli’s, which is recommended in Bædeker. Here we found a well-stocked store of articles in lava and coral, but owing, I suppose, to the thieving which exists in Naples, and from which, no doubt, they have sometimes suffered, we were rather unpleasantly watched by three persons, a circumstance of which others who had been there also complained. The articles, however, seemed to be good, while the prices are fixed, though a discount of five per cent, was allowed for cash. The gold used in Naples for bijouterie is considered to be inferior to the standard quality of England, and even of Rome, which professes to be, like England, of eighteen carats. Squadrilli allowed that their gold was only fourteen carats, and perhaps his estimate might not apply to all his articles. There are many imitations, however, even of this inferior gold, and some articles, possibly ‘job lots,’ are sold in Naples at astonishingly low prices. The articles supposed to be of lava are, I believe, in reality cut out of the limestone rocks of Somma, one of the peaks of Vesuvius.