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as any that our own country, of which we are justly proud, could produce; but then I refused to consider them as belonging to the Roman Catholic Church, since they discarded much that, as it appeared to me, that church required them to believe. They were always ready to distinguish between what was necessary for salvation, and what was a mere excrescence, as it were, which we might believe or not, according to our credulity. I found in my tour that there were men sent out by the different orders of monks—we might call them missionaries—to preach and confess the honest country people. They were regarded, as you might expect, by the regular clergy of the parishes as interlopers, and yet they dared not refuse them admission to their people. I was told that they did immense mischief, destroying the influence which the resident clergy might exercise over their people for good. They had no time to throw difficulties in the way of those who came to confess; knowing nothing of their previous history, they were ready to give them absolution according to a regular tariff. Along with indulgences they sell dispensations for marriage within the prohibited degrees, for eating meat on fast-days, and the privilege of having private chapels; above all, they find an inexhaustible mine in purgatory, and in saying masses for the souls of relatives believed to be in that limbo. These masses are sold at a price which, I was told, is wrangled over very much in the same way as fish-wives do over their wares in the streets of Edinburgh, when they are selling “caller haddies.” And it is said that these itinerant monks are not quite honest in their dealings, as they club together a great many souls for whom they have received payment, and make one mass do for the whole. Though the miracle of St. Januarius has been often described, it may interest you to have an account of what took place in my presence. You know that he is the patron saint of Naples, and that the miracle of the liquefaction of his blood is one of the events in which the people take a deep interest. The longer or shorter time that the saint takes in the performance of the miracle is of serious moment, and has sometimes been fraught with important consequences. I had no difficulty in obtaining access to the portion of the church set apart for foreigners, and of all who were present, I am sorry to say, that our own countrymen and women behaved the most offensively. The scenes that take place vary according to the wishes of the priests, but when I was present there were no peculiar circumstances that required them to go out of the routine. The church was by no means filled, and those who were present were evidently of the lower classes. At one side of the altar were seated a number of old women, who claimed to be lineal descendants from the family of the saint, for I imagine that he himself left no descendants, if celibacy was then the law of the church. These relatives treat their great ancestor with scant respect, and load him with many reproachful epithets if he be slow in listening to their prayers. Sometimes they were silent, and I could not help thinking that they followed the signal of a leader from their bursts of indignation. It is strange that these relatives should have ended in a number of old and wretched women. Immediately after I entered, there appeared a long procession of flags and monks, of all the different orders in Naples, advancing by one aisle and disappearing by another. They all did homage to the statue of the Saint as they passed the altar, but the scene that followed was still more
amusing. The statues of forty saints advanced in procession, fastened firmly on stages and carried by priests, and as they passed the altar these statues were made to do obeisance to the great St. Januarius. They were richly and gorgeously adorned with gold and silver tassels, precious stones, and carried nosegays in their hands. The family of the saint addressed them as they passed in language suitable to their rank, always ending, however, with bawling out, “Great is Sto. Gennaro, and much more powerful than you!” I could not help thinking of the silversmiths of Ephesus, when they called out, in former times, “Great is Diana of Ephesus !”—so true is it that there is nothing new under the sun. The day was now far advanced, and I began to be a little impatient for the closing scene, when the blood made its appearance in a transparent box, surmounted by a golden crown, and carried under a purple canopy, which was supported by priests of the highest rank. This box contained two phials; the one is empty, the contents having been carried off to Madrid by Charles III.; in the other is an opaque matter, which becomes red when it is liquid, but it was impossible to say so from anything that I saw. I was close to the altar, and made every effort to see its contents. The bottle is carried up to the altar and placed there, when the archbishop presents it to the head of the statue, and if the saint is propitious it takes not more than ten minutes—as it did when I saw the miracle—to liquefy. It is then brought forward to the people, who rush on to kiss the phial. There was a great crowd of parties jostling each other to get near to it, and Ijoined, that I might see more minutely its contents, but the swaying of the multitude to and fro, and the constant movement of the phial by the priest, prevented this being possible. I gave it up in despair, and retired without being able to say how the trick is accomplished, if there be any trick performed more than in mere words. Though it seemed to be a liquid when it was presented to the people, I cannot affirm that it was ever anything else. The same miracle is being performed with the blood of St. Januarius at Madrid, and the Capuchin monastery at Pozzuoli, as I have before mentioned. Voltaire defends this miracle on the grounds that the heated imaginations of warm climates have probably need of visible signs to bring them in subjection to the divinity, and thinks that they ought not to be abolished except when they have become an object of contempt to the people who had previously respected them. Machiavelli is of the same opinion as to such objects of worship, believing that they may be made use of by governments to ward off public calamities. This is looking at such matters in the light of expediency, and means that religion is merely an engine for acting on the ignorant masses. I think that it may interest you if I give a collection of words used in the south of Italy which are to be found in no Italian dictionary, and many of which seem able to be traced to a Greek source. I have already referred to the origin of the language of Bova, south of Gerace, which there is no doubt was a colony from the Morea in the fifteenth century, but I was interested in finding scattered up and down words for the origin of which we must go to a much more remote date. . Thus, at Maratea, a little south of Cape Palinuro, I find the following list of words which are not to be found elsewhere. Trofa, nourishment; or, as it was explained to me, “un albero qualumque chi intorno a se nutrisce altre piante nate da sue radici;” it seems to come from 7poph, nourishment; ceramilo, a tile, from képapos; stranzacalona, the turtle, from xeMávn; catojo, a room in the lower story, from Kará, down, and aikos, a house; profiti, a piece of ground producing the earliest fruits of the season, from mp3, before, and purów, grown; lacco, a small ditch with stagnant water, from Aakkos, a ditch; pede cata pede, following on the footsteps of, from ròa rará ràba, foot by foot. At Gerace, I find hazana, a small aperture in the wall, to contain articles; fondiche, a small aperture in the tiles to allow the smoke to escape; maca, a basket, in which they put their children on their heads; manale, a piece of black cloth over the head; ritorto, a piece of white cloth; ajosa, come quickly, which may come from aircra, to rush forward; arcojero, old things, from épxaíos, old; faldale, a leathern apron, at San Fili, on the road from Paola to Cosenza; pettiglia, a support to the breasts made of pasteboard; quatraro, a child; fano, an aperture in the roof to admit the light, from paiva, to show; rizza, a root, from Étéa, a root; trizza, a tress; esti, is; aspro, or spro, water; ahai, I have found; pivoli, birds of bad omen; stalamo, small drops of water, from a raNayuás, a drop; callipo, to cleanse the furnace.
I HAD now nothing to detain me further in the neighbourhood of Naples, and I had still much to see in Italy before I bade it farewell. Taking an affectionate leave of my kind friends, whom it was not likely that I should again meet, I started by curricle to hurry over the dusty plain of Campania, which I had so often traversed in every direction. My course was now northwards for the modern city of Capoa, situated on the site of the ancient Casilinum. I was a practised traveller in this part of the world, and had a mind quite at ease as to my being able to overcome any difficulties that might present themselves. I had very different feelings from those with which I started on my Calabrian tour, when I had been warned of the many dangers I must encounter, and which, though I escaped, I am aware that it was more by the protection of a kind Providence than by my own prudence.
Stopped, as all travellers are, at the entrance of Capoa, I presented a fresh passport for their examination, and was allowed to go forward without a moment's delay. At such a town as this they are accustomed to see English travellers at all times, and know that we have no other object in view except mere pleasure. This city is situated on the left bank of the river Volturno, a deep and rapid stream, along which I had travelled in passing down the defile from AEsernia, and the sources of whose tributaries, Calor and Sabbatus, I had seen on my search for Lake Ampsanctus. The ancient city Casilinum, of which Capoa now occupies the site, played a very distinguished part in the Second Punic war, having defied the arms of Hannibal, B.C. 216, after the battle of Cannae. The Roman troops, only a thousand in number, endured all the miseries of a protracted siege, with a scanty store of provisions, but were at last comPelled to surrender. It never became a city of importance, being a mere dependency of Capua; and it was not till the destruction of the latter, in
the ninth century, that the inhabitants transferred themselves to this spot, which seems then to have been unoccupied, and gave it the name which it now retains.
It is built within a narrow bend of the river, with walls having a cireumference of about two miles, and a garrison of three or four thousand men. I am not aware, however, that in modern times it has ever tried to rival the bravery of the Roman garrison; and when I tell you that, before the suppression of monasteries by the French, it contained twenty-four of these ecclesiastical establishments, and churches to the number of fifty, I do not suppose that you will be surprised that their thoughts were more directed to heavenly objects than the affairs of this world. Even still I was told that the archbishopric of Capoa was the second in point of wealth and importance of the whole of Italy, and every canon is said to enjoy the revenues of a prelate. I must confess that the cathedral is in every way worthy of such high dignitaries. It has an open quadrilateral court, surrounded by twenty Corinthian pillars of Oriental marble and cipollino in single blocks of stone, and around it are placed many tombs of the middle ages, and one of Roman times, representing a festival of Bacchus. The interior of the church is divided into three naves, adorned with twenty-four large Corinthian pillars of Oriental marble in single blocks. The baptismal font, of black African marble, is supported on the backs of two lions, and has every appearance of being of Roman construction. I was much struck by two little pillars of verde antique used for candelabra. To the confessional you descend by a flight of marble stairs, and in this lower part of the church you find many ancient marble pillars; and in another part of the church I observed an ancient bas-relief, representing a hunting scene, with the figures of Diana and Endymion. Few cathedrals in Italy are served by such a large body, amounting to forty canons of the first rank, twelve of the second, and ten chaplainsmansionarii, as they are called. This is certainly a goodly array, and if the inhabitants are not well instructed in the doctrines of the Catholic Church, it cannot arise from a deficiency in the number of clergy.
The city has three principal streets running parallel to each other, and a fine square, called De'Giudici, where the higher classes assemble in the cool of the evening, as they do in all parts of Italy. Here is a church, called S. Eligio, with two lofty pillars of Egyptian marble in front; and in the lower basement of the municipal palace you are struck by six colossal heads built into it, which are said to have been brought from the ancient amphitheatre of Capua. In passing through the streets you observe many ancient inscriptions brought from Capua.
There being nothing more worthy of notice in Capua, I hired a mule to proceed forward to Calvi, the site of the ancient Cales, celebrated for its wines. Horace says:
Caecubum et prelo domitam Caleno
“Thou shalt drink Caecuban wine, and the juice of grapes squeezed in the Calenian press.” The road continues for four miles to follow the exact route of the Via Appia, but at a spot called Casa-Lanza it branches off to join the road along which I had passed on descending the valley of the Volturno from AEsernia. This is a part of the Via Latina, and after proceeding other three miles, I reached the miserable village of Calvi, with the ruins of a feudal castle of the middle ages. The remains of the ancient city are of considerable extent, and show that it must at one time have been of great importance. The places of public amusement enable you to judge of its former size, and if you find a large theatre and amphitheatre, you may be tolerably sure that it must have been well peopled. In the days of Cicero (Ad Fam. ix. 13; Ad Att. vii. 14) it was evidently flourishing, and we see by his letters that it engaged the special protection of the great orator. It was the birthplace of M. Vinicius, the son-in-law of Germanicus, and patron of Welleius Paterculus (Tac. Ann. vi. 15). I could trace very distinctly the oval form of the amphitheatre, and at a spot called S. Casto Vecchio you see the remains of what seems to have been the theatre. Near this there is a brick arch, under which the road passes, and which may have been one of the gates of the ancient city. In the street leading from this arch there is a large piece of wall with another fine arch, possibly the remains of some temple, and a little farther on you come upon the remains of a public edifice, divided into different rooms, which the inhabitants call the Temple of Mercury. Outside the cathedral and seminary are fragments of red and grey Oriental marble, with their capitals scattered on the ground, and some pieces of rosso antico. The cathedral is dedicated to S. Casto, the first bishop of Cales. The soccorpo is supported by two rows of pillars of cipollino marble, the remains, no doubt, of the ancient city. Here, too, what I have often seen, is a large spring of water issuing from the rock, and traces of channels, which have the appearance of aqueducts. The path leads through two hills, of a very picturesque appearance, to a grotto, which it is difficult to say whether it be natural or excavated. The inhabitants maintain that the cavern extends two miles underground, and opens near a spot called Le Torricelle. I cannot say that I found the wine particularly palatable; it had a curious aromatic flavour, which was not at all pleasing; and yet, in former times, it was scarcely inferior to the celebrated Ager Falernus in the excellence of its wines. Indeed, the Falernian district seems to have been close upon Cales, extending away towards the sea; but at the present moment the wines of this part of Italy are in no way remarkable. A considerable part of the day was still at my command, and as it made no difference where I spent the night, I determined to push on five or six miles farther, to Teano, the ancient Teanum Sidicinum. The road was hilly, with many beautiful spots, where the eye stretched over the Falernian district. There are many traces still of the Via Latina; and this is not surprising, as intercourse with different parts of the country here is principally carried on by mules. The bridges, of a very substantial character, are still to be seen on the road. Teano is a city of about four thousand inhabitants, where I found no difficulty in obtaining accommodation sufficiently good for my purpose. At daybreak I sauntered out in the direction of a convent, from which I was told I should enjoy an extensive view of the surrounding country. It was, indeed, a magnificent prospect, as the rays of the rising sun lighted up the distant landscape. There lay before me once more the coasts of