the marquis de Natali, who, in his translation of Homer, has so skilfully introduced all those beauties which embellish that of Cesarotti, and avoided his defects, should have stopped short at the fourth book of the Iliad.

The imposture of Vella has not been wholly useless to Sicily; for it has excited a taste for the study of the Arabic. Morso, professor of the oriental languages at Palermo, has published an edition of Lokmann's Fables, to which he has annexed an Arabic Grammar and Dictionary. The abbate Pasqualino has established a claim to the gratitude of the republic of letters by his Vocabulario Siciliano etimologico Italiano e Latino. The dictionaries of Escobar and of Bordo have rendered this work necessary; and if it does not possess all the exactness that could be wished, yet if we reflect on the multiplicity of different dialects, and that each town of Sicily has one which is peculiar to itself, we shall be obliged to admit that Pasqualino has gloriously acquitted himself of the laborious task which he undertook. His vocabulary is not only valuable for Sicily, but philology in general must assign to it considerable importance: for, considering the relations and approximations of these different dialects to the ancient languages, it were to be wished that some scholar, who would not, like Pasqualino, suffer himself to be too often led away in to idle researches on the etymology of words, would take the trouble to prune and to improve it.

Sicily has not yet produced any works of importance on coins, except the performance of prince Torremuzza. He was the first that inspired his countrymen with a taste for researches of this kind. Every town, indeed, has its medalist, who, notwithstanding the great exportation, never fails to acquire a fortune; but with the Sicilian this science is, as yet, nothing more than the passion of hoarding. Among the private collections, that of the

baron d'Astuto at Noto, and that of the family of Biscari at Catanea are most worthy of notice. The public is still expecting the work promised by Calcagni, of Naples, on the numismatography of his native coun try. The writings of the chevalier Saverio Landolina principally relate to the researches undertaken by him in the vicinity of Syracuse, and will appear without delay. Of all the Sicilian literati, Landolina is perhaps the only one who has properly seized the spirit of antiquity: this he has proved by his commentaries on Homer, Hesiod, Theocritus, and several other ancient authors.

The toil and care with which the Italians collect the history of their country forms a national characteristic: and though we rarely find among their recent historians traces of that philosophic spirit which guided Machiavel and Guicciardini, yet we are obliged to allow them, in this respect, a distinguished rank among the nations of Europe. Their researches are too replete with minute details, and while they furnish rich materials for the future histo rian of Italy, they will render his task extremely laborious, by this very superabundance.

Some idea of these stores may be formed from the catalogue published by the marquis de Villabianca: Catalogo di tutti i parti litterati editi ed inediti intorno alla Storia Sicula Palermitana, 1794. The celebrated historiographer Paolo di Blasi is reproached, perhaps with justice, for having written rather a history of the viceroys of Sicily than of the nation, in his Storia cronologica de vice-rè, luogotenenti e presidenti del regno di Sicilia; but it is not less true that he has successively treated the most difficult period of the annals of his country. Rosario Gregorio enjoys a well-earned reputation. His Bibliotheca scriptorum, qui res in Sicilia gestas sub Aragonum imperio rotulere, causes his History of the Government of Sicily, which will speedily appear,

to be expected with impatience. Another valuable work, by the same author, Rerum Arabicarum quæ ad historiam Siculam spectant ampla Collectio, Arabice et Latine, 1790, raised up against him in Vella an opponent, who, however, obtained but a very transient success. Every one likewise mentions with commendation, Paolo d'Avolio Saggio sovra lo stato presente della poesia in Sicilia, per servire alla Storia della literatura nationale del Secolo XVIII, though in many places he is not perfectly free from the reproach of partiality.

Statistics, at present so fashionable in the rest of Europe, is almost entirely neglected in this island. Emmanuel Sergio is engaged in a work on the commerce of Sicily, but his plan is too extensive, so that there is reason to apprehend he will never be able to accomplish it. Though the Sicilians have not addicted themselves so much to the abstruse branches of metaphysics, they are not less philosophical than their neighbours on the continent of Italy. The literature of France and England is better known in Sicily than in all southern Italy. A single glance at the booksellers' shops in the street of Cassero, at Palermo, is sufficient to convince you that foreign literature possesses great advantage over that of the country. The works of the most esteeemed philosophers are there read in the original; but only one work of Bonnet's has yet been translated, Contemplazione della Natura con nuove note ed osservazioni dell Abb. Fr. Ferrara, and nothing of Locke's but his logic.

It is remarkable that the journals and other periodical works which have hitherto appeared in Sicily, and many of which are justly regretted, have had but a very transient existence. Such are the Effemeridi enciclopediche; Saggio de la Storia Sicula; Giornale ecclesiastico di Sicilia; Notizie litterarie; Nuova racolta degli autori Siciliani, &c., &c. You every where discover with pleasure traces of an in

timate acquaintance with foreign literature; a commendation which cannot be conferred on the rest of Italy. The best German works are translated into the dialect of the country.

Every Sicilian, who pretends to any education, is a poet; pastoral poetry is their favourite branch. But most of these sons of Parnassus fortunately possess the good sense not to be desirous of shining except in the circles which they frequent. They write in the idiom peculiar to their district, and hence it frequently happens that what is thought charming at Palermo is not understood at Syracuse. Meli is their model; this poet enjoys the highest reputation, and the new edition of his works is expected with incredible impatience. All its contents are already known by heart. This is of no consequence; he is the fashionable author; the whole nation, nay, even his rivals, have decreed him the crown.

Count Cæsar Gaetani, author of a poem entitled Piscagioni, might, perhaps, have aspired to a reputation equally splendid. The tunny fishery is an amusement of which all the inhabitants of the coasts of Sicily are passionately fond. This fishery is a kind of national festival, which continues several days successively; but Gaetani has employed the Tuscan dialect, which is not generally known in Sicily. sides, his verses have not the native simplicity of Melis. Zanotti, Poli, Bondi, have likewise printed collections of poems. Procapio has translated Gessner's "Death of Abel,” but none of those works produced any great sensation.

Be

Dramatic poetry is neglected to a surprising degree. The dramatic art itself finds but a small number of partizans. The theatres are commonly empty, and those who go to them for pastime are frequently unable to tell, on leaving them, what piece has been performed.

The reason of this indifference, unparalleled among civilized nations, is, that the Sicilians have not

yet, properly speaking, either a national theatre or national plays. The pieces are Venetian, in the Venetian dialect; consequently both the language and the national character, so very different from those of Venice, oppose the progress of this art in Sicily. It may be even generally asserted that the taste for the fine arts is not yet taken root among the natives of that island. Though they possess a Pietro Noveli, an Antonio Gaggino; though their churches abound in valuable pictures of more than one kind, the Sicilian is not an artist; they have not yet produced either painter or statuary whose name is worthy of being handed down to posterity. Those among them who are gifted by nature with any particular talent are obliged to flee their country to obtain the reward due to merit, unless they chuse rather to profane their art, and to vegetate all their lives. Velasquez, the painter of Palermo, affords a striking demonstration of this melancholy truth: having resolved not to quit his island, his talents and his fortune have not risen above mediocrity. Mariano Rossi was more wise or more fortunate. He obtained at an early age considerable reputation by various performances at the Villa Borghese. He returned to his native land only for a time, for the purpose of painting the dome of the cathedral of Palermo. This is the greatest of his works. Though his figures are often defective in proportion, though his colouring, which is too yellow, fatigues the eye, still the composition and the whole denote a man of genius. Among the statuaries we may mention Marabitti, but he scarcely deserves the

name.

One of the most beautiful monuments of modern architecture, the church of St. Laurence the martyr, at Trapani, has recently been finished. Don Diego de Luca, an ecclesiastic, was the architect who superintended its erection. Italy has not, perhaps, a monument of its

THE city of Naples has less claim to distinction on account of its intrinsic beauties, than for the vast and magnificent scenery by which it is surrounded. The following fragment conveys a just idea of the prospect enjoyed from the summit of Mount St. Elmo, which commands that ancient metropolis. The variety and happy contrast of the objects presented in this narrative, together with the notices which accompany it, will, it is hoped, revive agreeable recollections in those who have beheld that favoured country, and will not be uninteresting to such as are only acquainted with it from short descriptions.

We left the street of Toledo, to proceed to the square of St. Anna del Palazzo. The little street which conducts to it exhibits a monument of the taste of these people for music. It is a house which a celebrated singer erected with the produce of his economy. This artist, desirous of perpetuating the remembrance of his talent, and of publishing the cause of his good fortune, had this inscription, at the same time modest and ostentatious, engraved on a marble tablet: 66 Amphion Thebas, ego domum." This motto, so simple, so graceful, and so cheering to artists, must undoubtedly have diffused the celebrity of the singer even among the very lowest classes of the people. But alas! how liable to error are the calculations of selflove! Not a creature in the whole street could tell the name of this modern Amphion. Thus, thought I, will our posterity perhaps find on

I have introduced, I acknowledge, far too much philosophy on the inscription of a singer, but I could not resist the temptation. Let us pursue our route. We left Naples on its mountainous side, by streets which have a rapid declivity, and arrived at a road denominated the Petrare. If this name is intended to denote a rugged road, full of rocks, and painful to the pedestrian, never was expression more applicable. We passed on our right the way that leads to the Carthusian convent, and on our left that which conducts to the village of Attignano. We continued to ascend towards Fort St. Elmo, and at length arrived at the house of signior C*** M***, where we were to dine. This house, though not very conspicuous, is most favourably situated for serving in some measure as an observatory, and commands a view the most magnificent and extensive. It is itself of considerable elevation, and is placed on the summit of the mountain, on the declivity of which the city of Naples is situated. Its roof, like all those in this country, is flat, surrounded with a ballustrade, and the horizon is open on every side, excepting a single point, where the lofty mountain of the Camaldu

lenses, intercepting the view, sets off the objects to the right and left of that dusky mass.

After dinner our Amphytrion took us to the terrace and said: "Cast your eyes over this immense circle, and when you have recovered from your surprise, we will endeavour to separate the numerous objects which present themselves, to consider them individually.

"To give you the measure of the surface which is displayed around you, first observe, toward the northwest, that blueish mountain, whose foot is washed by the sea, and whose mountain of Circe. It is more than summit pierces the skies: it is the thirty leagues distant from us; and the other elevation, which is nearer, ball which seems to rise above the is the promontory of Gaeta. That sea, is an enormous circular tower, called by the people the Castle of Orlando, but which is in fact the mausoleum of Minutius Plancus, as is attested by the inscription that still exists. If you turn from this point of the horizon toward the east, among the numerous summits of the Appenines, you will distinguish two more elevated than the rest, at as great a distance from us as Monte Circello they form the partition between the eastern and western portion of this division of Italy; and were we capable of transporting ourselves to their summits, we should behold at once the Adriatic sea and the gulph of Genoa. Toward the south other elevated points exhibit the same vapour-like hue, and consequently are equally distant. And, lastly, to the west the view is bounded only by the circular line where the azure of the sea is blended with that of the heavens. The circle, of which we occupy nearly the centre, has therefore a radius of thirty leagues, and you may thence form some idea of its superficies. But, quitting objects which are too remote, let us confine ourselves to a theatre all the parts of which we may with ease distinguish.

"Behold, beneath your feet, the city of Naples, descending in the

form of an amphitheatre, and covering the brow of the mountain: one half of this metropolis is situated on the declivity of the hill; the other extends to the sea, and bends towards the gulph, a portion of which it embraces. This gulph is ten leagues in length, and its breadth, gradually increasing towards the sea, is three, four, five, or six leagues. Notwithstanding its extent, every object in it may be distinctly perceived, which is owing to the extraordinary purity of the air we breathe. That obtuse point, which projects into the sea at the bottom of the city, is the Castle of Ovo, so denominated from its form. If, leaving this castle, your eye follows the shore that stretches away toward the west, you come to the Villa Reale, a promenade, situated between the hills and the beach, and the road running parallel to it leads to the grotto of Pausilyppo. This Greek name is probably composed of the two words pauo and lupe; the former signifying I put an end to, I relieve, and the second, pain, sorrow, fatigue. Indeed this hill, so celebrated for its fertility, its gardens, its country-seats, was well calculated to afford recreation from the labours, cares, and bustle of the city.

"That dark road, a thousand paces in length and twelve feet broad, had formerly one equal elevation; but having been used for more than thirty centuries, the soil, which is nothing more than hardened pozzuolana, a species of turf, is so worn away, that the road has sunk considerably, and travellers now see over their heads the marks made in ancient times by the chariot-wheels in the walls of the grotto. Strabo informs us, that, in his time, two carriages might conveniently pass there. During the reign of Nero, there was neither hole nor window for the admission of light, and the air entering only at the two extremities, this long gloomy cavern was always full of a yellow dust, dry, and almost impalpable. Seneca, who calls it the Neapolitan

Crypt, says, that in passing through it he experienced the fate of the wrestlers, and that it is a long prison, where nothing is to be seen but darkness. This expression of Seneca proves that Milton's “darkness visible" is not of such modern invention. The two windows which now exist in it were made by order of Alphonso I, who likewise caused the road and the vault of the grotto to be repaired; but as the light which enters it comes from the summit of the mountain, and has long passages to traverse, only a weak and dubious glimmer pervades the cavern. Once a year, however, it is illuminated in a brilliant manner, that is, at the autumnal equinox. The sun, setting at this season exactly opposite the outlet of the grotto, which is extremely straight, throws his rays to the other extremity. At this moment the spectator may discern all the sinuosities of the vault, the traces of the ancient chariots, some of which are fifteen feet above the present soil, and a multitude of names, which different travellers have inscribed on its walls; but this solar illumination lasts no more than five minutes, and re-appears only with the revolution of the year.

"Before we quit this grotto, I ought to mention the supposed tomb of Virgil. This is the small monument above the entrance of the cavern, and which, at a distance, resembles a dormar-window more than a tomb. This little vault, narrow, and of no great depth, is absolutely empty; and it is, besides, well known that Virgil was interred near Sebet, that is, at the other extremity of Naples The common people, however, insist that the remains of that great man are at Pausilyppo, and from time to time carry into the vault branches of laurel, which being frequently renewed, induce a beliet of the immortality of that tree. The lowest class of the people have a great veneration for Virgil: you will undoubtedly imagine that it must be on account of his poetic genius. By no means: they respect