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ARTICLE XVI

Naples and Vesuvius

HERE ARE two things of over-mastering attraction

Tthat bring the traveler to Naples-the renowned

beauty of its position, and the uncovered presence of its unfortunate neighbor, Pompeii. Whoever confesses disappointment at beholding these, confesses much that is personal to himself. He must either be far too fastidious or insensible to beauty-capital crimes in the decalogue of aestheticism.

Naples, though the most populous city in Italy, compares neither in history nor in architecture with its more northern sisters, and its renown, therefore, reflects not so much the genius and labor of its citizens, as the grand designs and faultless execution of nature. And, indeed, so jealous is nature of her work, that Vesuvius is apparently set to guard it, and, when man has ventured to "improve," his creations are summarily overthrown. But the instability of the earth does not stiflle exertion. There is a little town situated at the base of the mountain called Torre del Graeco. It has been destroyed by streams of lava fre

quently, but has always been rebuilt, giving a remarkable example of the tenacity with which the people cling to these fatal parts, and their innured indifference to danger. The Neapolitans, comparatively, have been fortunate, and jibe their neighbors by saying that, while they do the sinning, Graeco pays the penalty! The existence of the volcano, nevertheless, and the graves of the buried cities, give a temporary aspect to everything, and, naturally, deter men from erecting monumental edifices. So, looking at Naples from the bay, it appears as though it were constructed of children's blocks, for the houses are uniformly square, with flat roofs and consecutive rows of cheerless windows. But, such as they are, they creep in clusters over the hills and gracefully swing around the beautiful curve of the bay, giving a purpose and utility to the sheltering mountains and obedient tide. And however unhandsome these houses may be, in an artistic sense, they are quite as necessary for the completion of the picture as for the uses of habitation. But there are few who are not familiar with the configuration of this delightful country, either from actually having seen it, or from the numerous counterfeit presentments everywhere exhibited. The Bay of Naples seems to be a favorite subject for artists, perhaps, because, while their imagination may run wild, they can never exaggerate its charm nor its coloring. There are hours when pigments utterly fail to reproduce the scene, no matter how impressed or competent the artist may be. For the beauty at this time depends not so much on the outline, the sickle of houses and the mountains, as on the effect of the sunlight, the warm sky, the pellucid waters, and, above all, on the dying glory of the day. At sunset, the most ex

quisite tints are given indiscriminately to everything. The white fronts of the houses are as so many canvases for the great ingener, whose palette is the sun, whose brush the rays. He glasses himself in the stilled surface of the bay. The wreaths of smoke, emitted fitfully from the sublime Vesuvius, are colored; and, as the rising winds sweep the summit, they seem to be waving signals of distress.

But this rare landscape would elicit little praise were it not for the Italian sky. It is a physical masterpiece, but were it not thus painted, it would not be exclusive in its pride of beauty. If San Francisco Bay were equally favored, it would not brook a Neapolitan rival. Indeed, there are many points of resemblance between the two, and their difference, with the exception of the climate, is not unfavorable to the superiority of San Francisco Bay. The bay at Naples is partly protected from the sea, to which it broadly opens, by the islands of Capri and Ischia; the Bay of San Francisco has its islands, and, therefore, does not yield in picturesqueness, while it has, besides, an incomparable gateway leading to the trackless ocean, of which Naples cannot boast. If what is beautiful gains, as surely it does, by being useful, San Francisco bay must be allowed preeminence on account of the matchless extent. and security of its landlocked harbor.

It is true, Naples has Vesuvius, but is not Vesuvius a tyrant that compels rather than deserves admiration? It may be grand and awful-like Alexander and Napoleon in the heroic world. As Milton says, "what do these worthies but kill, murder and destroy peaceable cities?" Tamalpais and Diablo have all its stern grandeur, without its ferocity. Not like a bully do they stand, with smoking pistol, fresh

from slaughter, overawing a city. Then, wherefore must they yield?

But, while following out the likeness and difference between these two parts of the earth, to be fair we cannot but mention a point of similarity between our country to-day and this country in past times, and against which we were just congratulating ourselves. Both Central California and Southern Italy are of undoubted volcanic origin, and it is quite certain that the subterranean forces have not spent themselves. While this is a truism about Naples, clear evidences of both propositions are not wanting in California. The testimony of geologists support the one, and the frequent earthquakes the other. Within even the memory of man, how many shocks have demonstrated that there were gases moving restlessly beneath the surface of California, seeking an outlet. In connection with the fact that just such earthquakes were the premonitory symptoms of the great and fatal eruption of 79 A. D., which overwhelmed Pompeii, Stabiae and other cities, it leaves us only to conclude that, in all physical probability, some one of the mountains adjacent to San Francisco may develop into an active volcano, and Lassen, not far away, has done so. Because for centuries prior to 79 A. D. Vesuvius had been quiescent, the people of Campania did not suspect that the great mountain, on whose sides were their villas and vineyards, was a merciless engine of destruction. So when the many earthquakes culminated in the very severe one of A. D. 63, still unconscious of their danger, they set to work to build anew their prostrate dwellings and temples, and signs of this reconstruction may be seen everywhere in Pompeii to-day.