The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1883-05-03
SEE NAPLES and die,
Vesuvius and Capri---Courage and
Macaroni---The Tomb of Virgil.
Special correspondence National Tribune.

Naples certainly is quite the reverse. Before
reaching the city you see from the train women
working in the fields and vineyards side by
side with men; and this is merely the begin
ming. In the city itself the streets are so
crowded that no population seems to be left to
fill the houses There are women sewing and
washing clothes ON the sidewalks and beggars
sleeping in doorways; there are other women
spinning in groups in front of their houses;
and saw one woman sitting fiat on a stone
sidewalk busiiy cane-seating a chair. At noon
q score of workmen quit work upon new
house near by, and seated themselves in row
in the sunshine their backs against hot, glar-
ing white stone wall. There they ate their
dinner of oranges and roast ehestnuts in a
ieisurely way and this evening the orange
peel and chestnut shells that marked their rest
ing place showed that the lunch had not been
limited one, and that the men have no tender
reserve impelling them to remove the traces of
their presence. The Neapolitan children swarm
IN the streets, and mothers and nurses sit about
anywhere knitting, knitting, knitting, until one
wonders how so many stockings can be used in
a barefoot population. The children are nearly
all pGetty-many of them are strikingiy beauti-
ful-and the prevailing expression of face is
CHEEKY and anything rather than thoughtful.
Indeed, their scaRt clothing and happy GO
lucky out-of-door life seem to rest lightly on
the minds of the Neapolitans. The love of
sunshine is not confined to the people who
work and the children who scamper in the hot
wide streets. This afternoon it seemed that
all the world who could manage to get a
vehicle had conveyed the same to the beautiful
sea-drive along the bay From this enchant-
ing promenade the views are probably more
beautiful and more suggestive in their points
of interest than the views from any other drive
OF the same length in the world.
THE OLD SMOKER.
To the east there is Vesuvius, lofty peak,
slender and isolated. In the afternoon light it
is purple, and the horizontal column of smoke
blowing southwark from it's crest is white and
harmless looking. As the afternoon grows
old and the sun drops behind the western hill
Vesuylus grows dark, then black and its
crest or ire is a lurid, evil looking red
that dies out and flashes up at irregular inter
vals Then the smoke, still blowing south
ward horizontally, is red for little while, and
finally becomes invisible. ALI night the fire
gloWs like an evil beacon light-an unwhole-
some, red presence that will not be ignored 1t
is harmless at present. and parties of tourists
ascend Vesuvius every clear day to get the
view and the satisfaction of mentioning the
ascent In subsequent conversation. But the
probability that there is no present danger
does little to make the volcano seem an inof-
fensive neighbor, particularly in view of the
nearness of buried Pompeii Southwark from
IN color and outline by the rich haze which
disappoints no young dreams of Italian land
scapeS. Then there is a break in the chain
and the bay covers the submarine connection
between these mountains and Capri. OF Capri
there Is nothing to be said /; it must be seem
turning away from the terrible presence of the
volcano and the indescribable loveliness of
Capri, and looking inland over the city to
elf that towers behind it, you meet an object
which gives YOU an odd feeling. 1t is like
having some great man pointed out in Wash
lngton, whose name you know very well, and
then finding that is all that you do know about
him. This object is the castle of St. Elmo.
The title of a novel has made this castles name
as familiar as Jones or Smith. Yet you may
find when you come face to face with the fort
ress that you are ignorant Gifts history and that
the castle has but slight claim upon your atten-
ton. 1t IS massive, ugly, commanding, and
possessed of a fine view, and, beyond that the
guide-book has little to say of it. except that it
dates back to the fourteenth century and is
now dismantled. 1t seems a sort of injustice to
an unpretending old building to make its name
a household word when history does not justify
such Importance In a still different direction,
namely, westward, TO the hill behind which the
sun rests while all Naples drives along the bay,
the eye finds a resting place of an altogether
surprising kind. This is rough, unsightly
hillside grayish- yellow, like an adobe wall in
New Mexico This hillside is not sloping and
picturesque; it is cut into an abrupt descent as
if with cheese knife In the ugly, upright
surface thus produced there is high, narrow
opening, arched and dark and uninviting.
THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.
Just before reaching this opening the traveller
passes the tomb of Virgil, and is shocked to see
the last resting place OF the stately poet mere
landmark beside q common highway. A few
cfer, hax- fi,a& .,rN
chapel cut in the same adobe-looking structure
Of rock, dark, cherries and unattractive as
the huge grotto at whose entrance it is. From
the little chapel a Capuchin emerges to beg an
aims for his order, and retires instantly to his
premature sepulchre. The grotto would not
be called grotto in America. 1t is an enor-
mously high tunnel half mile long, very old,
paved like street and smelling like MENACE
RE This thoroughfare is now supposed to have
been constructed by the Emperor Augustus,
though the superstition of the middle ages
attributed 1t to the magic arts of Virgil, and,
indeed, it is curious enough to justify any
sort of mad fancy. The prosaic features of this
queer remnant of Roman antiquity are the gas
lamps which light its whole extent, its use as
q common thoroughfare, and its prepoSterous
smell. This unconventional feature of the
landscape, the uninterestingness of st. Elmo,
and the horror of Yesuvius might reasonably
be expected to detract from complete enjoy
ment of the drive by the side Of the Bay of
Naples, but the beauty of the scene overwhelms
everything else and brings TO mind the pro-
verb, . See Naples and die.n But that is very
false proverb; for to see Naples is TO wish, not
TO die, but to live, and that at Naples as long as
possible The air. the sky, the sea, and the
surrounding mountains make an environment
for the city more satisfying in its beauty, prob
ably, than that of any other city in the world,
and the weather at present is IN such brilliant
contrast with the prevailing weather of the
winter that merely to breathe and see is enough
for thorough enjoyment. But, beautiful as
Naples is, it is richer yet in outlying points of
interest, SO that it becomes merely headquar-
tiers for tourists as Nice does for those Of the
Riviera.
A TRIP TO CAPRI.
An enchanting little trip is from Naples to
Mare, where it is wise to pause and make 3
donkey trip to the Queens palace on top of a
high hill overlooking the bay and the plain to
the south of Vesuvius. A more ridiculous
experience it is hard to imagine. The donkey is
small and nilnbie, and his vehicle is something
between q baby-coach and a goat-carriage, and
the driver well-nigh rs strong as his beaStie
trots beside you all the way, mopping his brow
with his sleeve, but drawing out fine ban
dana handkerchief to dust :" MacaFoni's" knees
whenever the slippery road brings the willing
fellow down. 1t may happen when yeu get
near the top that compassion will lead you TO
walk while, to let Macaroui" rest and get
breath; but. in that case. the driver viii mount
in your place, and wonder at your stupidity.