time (1759). Don Carlos had commenced life so early himself, I fancy he did not think the boy too young; but Nature had stopped her grand work in that quarter, and the succeeding Ferdinands of Naples have relapsed into the old mould of royal figure-heads. A succession of such kings as Charles III. would have ameliorated many of the national ills; but this lovely peninsula seems to have been born in that unlucky daydawn of nations just as "Pale Hecate, star of the sorceress," was flying before the spirits of the new revelation, and her angry eye of malediction fell upon this fated land; for, as we look back upon its history, we see but a succession of short-lived promises of good, followed by long seasons of misrule and misfortune. During Charles III.'s reign a new element entered political life, — the Bourgeois, or Tiers État, — which then took position and rank. To be sure, under the Spanish vice-regal government, the throb of this great social pulse could be seen by the appearance of such men as the lawyer and historian Giannone, the jurisconsult Gravina, — Metastasio's beloved patron and friend, — and the professor and rhetorician Vico; but these were exceptions, and not a class, as now. The effect of this new element, which has been steadily working for years, is now showing itself, not only in Naples, but all over the peninsula, and will cause material changes both in the governments and the people before long. In the present day, however, this same Tiers État is a very necessary element in all European states. As Janet said to-day: As Janet said to-day: "It gives the backbone to all the new governments of this old continent." The history of Naples since the reign of " Don Carlos " is short and inglorious. During the minority of the young king, the government was directed by that wise minister of Charles III., Bernard Tanucci; but, though he ruled well over the country, he left one duty unperformed, the proper training of his royal ward. When this young Ferdinand I. reached the age of seventeen, a year younger than his great father was at the period of his crowning at Palermo,- he completed his minority, and the following year married an Austrian archduchess. This archduchess, Maria Carolina, was the unworthy daughter of Maria Theresa, the unwomanly sister of Maria Antoinette, the fit friend of the infamous Lady Hamilton, and the bad queen of a weak husband. Ferdinand allowed her to assume the control, for she had the same desire for rule which characterized her mother, but she lacked Maria Theresa's ability. Her first exercise of power was the dismissing of Tanucci; and the result of her ill management was not only injurious to the kingdom, but to her own interests, for, when the terrific political European earthquake of 1789 burst out, Naples was in a weak and unprotected state. Nature had played truant then; there was no "Don Carlos,” no Vanucci, to hold the government firm when the revolutionary tide swept over the peninsula; and the feeble king, with his unwise queen, had to fly from Naples for their lives. Then followed the Parthenopian republic, established by the French General Championnet, which failed, for Naples is essentially a king-loving place. After its downfall, Ferdinand returned for a little while, but was soon driven out again, to make room for Napoleon's brother Joseph. When Joseph was transferred to Spain, Murat succeeded him; then came Napoleon's downfall, and with him his little family of sovereigns. At the Treaty of Vienna, in 1816, Ferdinand recovered his throne. To him succeeded his son, Francis I., who reigned only five years; then Ferdinand II. ascended the throne (1830). * The There have been short-lived rebellions in the mean while, and it is said there is no stability now. Bourgeois, and even the nobility, are tired of the Bourbons; and "the innovation-loving, excitable, loquacious, and unsteady Neapolitan people" are also quite ready for any change. But look, "What envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. I have been so interested in my nobile ozio as to write all night, a poor preparation for to-morrow's-nay, today's — sight-seeing. * 1858. STONE TONGUE. HAVE received great assistance lately in this examination of Neapolitan churches from our new friend Mr. Luini. New friend? He does not seem new to me. It is not more than two months since I first met him at the Folhams, and yet I feel as if I had known him years instead of weeks. There are many reasons to be offered for the close intimacy which is fast growing up between us. We are of the same faith, and hold similar views about our grand old religion. Then we are travellers, not residents, and acquaintances ripen into friendships on journeys much more quickly than by firesides. Janet rallies me playfully on my enthusiasm about him once in a while, although she also likes him very much; but I retort quite good-humoredly by quoting Jean Paul to her. "There is a sacred fault noble maidens have of forming too enthusiastic conceptions of their friends. Married women rarely do this, because ordinary men check and discourage all feminine enthusiasm which is not for themselves, and sometimes they weary of that.” Mrs. Rochester teasingly says, "Are you not afraid of spoiling Mr. Luini?" And I reply, with one of my strong human faiths,— "It is the way to test him. Great natures are never injured by appreciation and preference, even when frankly and openly expressed; on the contrary, they are encouraged by it, and grow nobler, nor do they ever misunderstand it. It is only the petty, inferior mind which puts a wrong construction on such regard, and wounds us by its vanity and conceit.' He appears to have made Naples his home, for the present, at least. He has a pleasant suite of apartments in a palazzo on the Chiaja, near the Church of San Pasquale, not far from our friends the Rochesters. He has a very fine library, judging from the nice works he lends me: indeed I cannot mention a book of reference, without receiving it from him immediately, handsomely illustrated old folios, such as St. Non and Montfaucon, together with modern works like Cicognara, and all the standard histories, Guicciardini, Giannone, and the like. He is very intimate with that excellent man, the Saint Charles Borromeo of the present day, the Archbishop of Naples, Cardinal Duke Sforza; and when any surprise is felt by his acquaintances at his perfect independence of life and opinions, his intimacy with this prelate seems to be the satisfying reason. I fancy, however, that the intimacy has no more power than this; the Cardinal knows him to be a prudent, wise, good man, and such men command independence of mind and action everywhere. There is some mystery, I believe, about his "antecedents," as we Americans say; and, although an Italian by birth, he has very little intercourse with resident Neapolitans. His intimacies are mostly with foreigners, especially the English. This arises, I suppose, from the fact of his mother's having been an Englishwoman. She must have been a person of high culture and great love |