Rising in cloudless majesty,
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

We left Naples at half-past seven in the morning, went to
Caserta, and walked over the palace, in which nothing struck me
but the dimensions, the staircase, and a few of the rooms. The
theatre is very well contrived; it is at one end of the palace,
and the back of it opens by large folding doors into the garden,
so that they can have any depth of stage they please, and arrange
any pageants or cavalcades. This could, however, only be at a
theatre in a country house. Thence to Capua, and went over the
Amphitheatre, which is very remarkable. It is said to be larger
than the Coliseum, but the arena did not appear to me so vast.
Here we are in the land of names again, and it is impossible for
the imagination not to run over the grandeur, luxury, and fate of
Capua, for on the very spot on which I was standing (for the
chief places are ascertained) in all probability Hannibal often
sat to see the games.[1]

[1] No such thing. _His_ Capua was nearly destroyed, and if
it had an amphitheatre it would have been ruined. These
ruins must have belonged to Capua the Second, which was
restored by Augustus or Tiberius, and became as
flourishing and populous as the first had been.--
[C.C.G.]

The Italian postilions, it must be owned, are a comical set. They
sometimes go faster than ever I went in England, then at others
they creep like snails, and stop at the least inclined plane to
put on the _scarpa_. The occasions they generally select for
going fast are when they have six horses harnessed to the
carriage, and so extend about ten yards, on slippery pavement,
through very narrow streets, extremely crowded with women and
children; then they will flog their horses to full speed, and
clatter along without fear or shame. Nothing happens; I have
remarked that nothing ever does anywhere in Italy.

I have walked over this garden [at Gaeta], which contains remains
of one of Cicero's villas, but they are only arched rooms like
vaults, and not worth seeing but for the name of Cicero, and the
recollection that he was murdered almost on this spot. He had
good taste in his villas, for this bay is as placid and delicious
as that of Baiae. There is an ancient bath, which probably
belonged to the villa; it is in the sea, and still avail