within range of a possible eruption? No, the Phlegrean fields are
interesting to visit, but he must require a strong nerve who would fain
dwell beneath the shadow of this dormant crater.
It is a very short walk from the base of the Monte Nuovo to the "golden
shores" of Imperial Baiae, which is certainly not an imposing place in
these days. What with the destroying hand of time and the still more
obliterating action of the neighbouring volcano, there is little left for
the fancy to build upon; certainly the three ruined shells that are called
temples by courtesy, but served probably a much humbler purpose than that
of worship, are not particularly striking. It requires not only a good
classical knowledge, but also no small amount of imagination to picture
the Baiae of the Roman poets.
"If Pozzuoli has gone down in the world, still more so Baiae. It does not
require any more sinking; it is low enough as it is, so low that some of
its ancient villas and palaces can only be visited in a diving-bell. So
dreary and deserted is the site, that at first glance the visitor feels
mightily inclined to question the veracity of the historian, and to doubt
whether Baiae--Baiae the gay, the fashionable, the dissolute, the beloved
of emperors, statesmen and poets--ever existed. But when he is shown the
enormous sub-structures lying under water, and the masses of solid masonry
wherewith the surrounding hills are over-spread, incredulity gives place
to amazement. What towns of lath and plaster are Brighton, Newport and
Trouville, when compared with this 'Rome by the sea,' where the materials
used for the foundations of a single villa would more than suffice for the
construction of a dozen 'genteel marine residences' of the modern style!
What would a Roman architect think of the card-board streets and squares,
and the stucco crescents and terraces, of an English watering-place? of
those 'eligible family mansions' wherein dancing is dangerous, and to
venture on whose balconies is perilous in the extreme? Echo answers:
'What!' "(13)
Here on this desolate strip of sea-shore, now dominated by the Spanish
viceroy's frowning fortress on the hill above, the great and opulent of
ancient Rome founded a city composed wholly of palaces. Here were no noisy
market-places to annoy aristocratic nerves; no slums to afflict
plutocratic nostrils; no families of the proletariat to disturb the
refined senses of the jaded pleasure-seekers who retired hithe
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