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It is to be lamented that when the excavation of Herculaneum was stopped, the whole which was then explored was filled up again. In the museum of Portici its treasures are deposited, as well as some brought from Pompeii. Painting had not attained the same degree of perfection as sculpture among the ancient artists, yet many of their performances here called forth all our admiration. The designs are elegant, though the execution is defective, particularly in perspective. The colouring in durability exceeded any which modern ages can produce. Of this a gentleman made an experiment, by using at the same time some carmine and some red paint found in a small pot at Herculaneum. He exposed both to the sun, which faded the former while it had no influence on the latter. In one of the lower apartments stands a fine full length portrait, by David, of Buonaparte in magnificent robes of state, as well as portraits of many other members of his family, amongst whom is Murat. In this now neglected chamber, are representations of those persons who lately filled the world with admiration and terror. So passes away all human grandeur! While contemplating the likeness of Murat, I was reminded of the many institutions which he founded, and works of extensive usefulness which he set on foot. These remembrances should excite a feeling of gratitude which would give his picture a better place. But no-he is gone! His short lived power is at an

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end, and even those who are benefited by his institutions seem neither to care, nor to think, whether such a person ever existed.

From the present appearance of Mount Vesuvius a grand eruption is so much apprehended, that orders have been issued to remove the collection of ancient paintings from this museum to that of Naples. A few years ago the lava flowed to the very gates of Portici; and that it did not destroy Naples itself is attributed to its patron saint, St. Januarius, whose statue is placed on the great bridge leading into the town, the right hand extended towards the mountain, as if commanding its flames to proceed no further. The blood of this martyred saint is preserved in two cruets in the Church dedicated to him. Three times a year it is produced, and from a solid substance by degrees liquifies in the presence of crowds of persons who come from all quarters to witness the miracle. Nobody seems to know how the deception is managed, but a liberal Roman Catholic told me that it had been a very ancient one, practised by idolatrous worshippers. That it is a trick, none of the enlightened amongst them appear to doubt.

It was now time to begin our ascent of Mount Vesuvius. No cloud veiled from our eyes the smoking furnace on the top of the mountain, from whence every ten minutes there was a burst of fire and red hot stones. At three o'clock we mounted the donkeys which stood ready, and exactly as

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the sun set, we reached the summit of the mountain, when the most sublime prospect which imagination can paint opened upon us. The declining sun-beams rested on the island of Ischia, shedding a long and glorious train of light over the sea. The silvery clouds tinged with its rays were skimming over Monte Somma, just under us, while volumes of smoke and flame accompanied by a torrent of liquid fire issued from the great crater which is half a mile in circumference. The guides told us, that without the greatest hazard we could not approach nearer to it, and we had not the imprudence to venture one step further than they said was safe. We stood on the edge of the old crater, which had the appearance of a great well of sulphur, the heat of the ground under our feet made us frequently remove from place to place; smoke issued out at every cavity around us; the explosions from the great crater sounded like the firing of cannon, accompanied by a hissing noise; while the red hot stones thrown up with amazing force burst in the air, and fell again on the ground. We stepped cautiously along with a kind of dread, lest the ground should burst open under our feet; and as we heard that new craters frequently open, we might well have such apprehensions. As every one knows who visits this country, the sun has no sooner set than the shades of night come on. We had now no light to illumine the way, but that of the torches previously provided by our guides, ex

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cept when the bursts of fire from the crater rose in awful magnificence. The fatigue of the ascent through a bed of ashes is inconceivable. We had two guides, a man and a boy; they had each leathern girdles about their waists, and stout sticks in their hands. I held fast by their belts while they pulled me along, exclaiming "Corraggio, Signora," as often as they perceived my strength was failing, whilst I implored them to stop that I might take breath. They sang as we went along the charms and virtues of maccaroni, leading me on without much labour to themselves. We were, I think, about two hours and a half ascending. Our descent was rapid, being impelled forwards by the ashes and cinders rolling after us every step; but I need not call stepping what was rather a continued slide, ancle deep in ashes, to the bottom of the cone, where with some difficulty for want of light, the torches having gone out, we found our little donkeys, and trusted to their sagacity more than to our own, to retrace securely the rugged way, which every five minutes was illuminated by splendid explosions from the crater. We rested a short time with our hospitable friends the hermits both ascending and descending the mountain. The midnight hour was past before we arrived at Naples, so fatigued that we concluded that we should not recover it for some days.

LETTER XII.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

Naples, October 14th, 1819.

I AM so far recovered from my expedition to Mount Vesuvius, as to be able this day to visit the Military Hospital, a noble specimen of Tuscan architecture, once the convent of St. Martino. It is one of the most striking objects to strangers entering Naples. The situation is so elevated, that in looking from a terrace on the town, the great streets appeared like little narrow lanes, the people, carriages, and cattle like moving dolls and playthings. But the effect of the voices of the people is not to be described, for it was unlike any thing which I ever heard before, all blending in one shrill discordant sound. The most admired ornaments of this Church are roses of Egyptian basalt, which when struck with a key ring like a clear toned bell. The workmanship is most exquisite, and ought to be so, as they cost 1000 ducats each.

October 19th. We again visited our favourite Studio Borbonico where we always discover something new and interesting. This day we saw a curious collection of jewellery and various ornaments, combs, childrens' toys, besides numerous articles of common use, found at Herculaneum and Pompeii;