We did not get to Mola di Gaeta till nearly four o’clock. Here again was a quarrel, the vetturino declaring that his mules must rest at least three hours, and that since we insisted on going to Naples the next day, we must travel all night. It was in vain to argue, he was much more obstinate than his mules, but fortunately he wanted a little sleep himself, and we stopt for a few hours at Santa Agata de’ Goti. At Capua he found that his mules only required an hour and a half, when I should have been well pleased to have stayed three hours, in which case I might have visited old Capua. In the modern city there is little except a few columns in the cathedral, of granite, cipollino, and bigio antico, which are hardly sufficient to interest a man who has just left Rome. From Capua the country appears covered with a continued grove of small poplars, over which the vines climb luxuriantly; and below, wheat and Indian corn are cultivated. I was on the watch for Vesuvius; the weather was hazy, but I distinguished it a little before our arrival at Capua crested with a slender column of smoke, and as we approached Naples, we caught occasional glimpses of it tipped with red, and shewing now and then a small eruption. We had to stop at three custom-houses, but our vetturino would not take us to our inns, which is the usual practice, but drove directly to his own stopping place, and after all, had the impudence to demand a _buona mano_. I have engaged a room at an inn called the Speranzella, for three carlines a day, a carline being worth about fourpence halfpenny. The master is a Milanese, and the head waiter a Tuscan, and both thank God that they are not Neapolitans. The Lazzaroni wanted two piastres (or dollars) for carrying my trunk, but were contented with half of one, knowing then that they had been paid twice as much as they ought to have had.
The architecture of the palaces at Naples does not call for any particular remarks. It is true that they have large parts, and frequently exhibit a fine unbroken mass, which always has a magnificent effect; but the proportions are seldom very good, and the details almost always bad. These observations apply to the royal palace as well as to those of individuals. It stands in a square, and presents on the principal floor a continued range of twenty-one windows, on an unbroken front of 520 palms, or about 447 English feet; the height is 110 palms, or 94 feet. In all this the design is perfectly simple, except a little disarrangement in the centre, which is a defect of no great importance. Such an extent must have a noble effect. The architect was Domenico Fontana, and he opened the lower part into an arcade; but “in order to strengthen the building,” says Romanelli, “the alternate arches have since been filled up.” Whatever was the motive, the beauty of the building has suffered greatly.
