118 AN ASCENT OF VESUVIUS. 



tipped with dull red, and the light comes and goes, fades away and 

 returns, like the fiery breathing of some fabulous monster. And, if 

 the wind is in particular, quarters, the vapours do not mount at all, 

 but boil over like froth, and then slide down the sides of the vol- 

 cano. 



In order to make a good ascent of Vesuvius, it is necessary to have 

 a number of combining circumstances in the weather, which a Nea- 

 politan spring does not always afford. If there is the least cloud or 

 mist, the magnificent view from the top is lost. If the wind is high or 

 gusty, the fine ashes blown into the eyes, nose, ears, and hair, are a 

 sufficient nuisance to diminish the pleasure of the journey; and, if 

 there has been rain, it is prudent to wait for at least two fine days to 

 dry the ashes of the cone, otherwise the traveller would stick as in 

 traversing a bog. 



But, for those who have good weather and all other circumstances 

 favourable, there can be no excursion more varied or agreeable than 

 that from Naples to the top of Vesuvius. It is divided into three 

 stages, each of which may be performed in a different manner by 

 driving, riding, and walking. 



The first of these is the drive from Naples to Resina, the town which 

 stands immediately over Herculaneum, and is built on the stream of 

 lava which overwhelmed that unfortunate city. In this short drive of 

 about five miles there is no great object of interest. The road side 

 is lined nearly all the way with houses and villas, like the outskirts of 

 London, and it is only occasionally that a glimpse is caught either of 

 the mountain or the bay. Almost immediately on leaving Naples the 

 Sebetos is passed, a brook of the smallest size, but retaining its ancient 

 name. A long, broad, and well-paved bridge is thrown over this 

 streamlet, as if in ridicule of its littleness. So great is the dispropor- 

 tion between the obstacle and the means by which it is overcome, 

 it is like crossing a gutter with a pair of seven-league boots. In the 

 centre of the bridge appears another piece of bombast in the shape 

 of a statue of St. Januarius, who stands fixed with his hand extended 

 towards the mountain, to ward off any danger it might threaten to 

 the city under his protection. It is difficult to say what service might 

 not be derived from the saint's assistance in case a shower of ashes 

 were to be blown over Naples, but, as far as the lava is concerned, 

 his aid is not likely to be called for. Unless the burning stream took 

 a very long and circuitous route, the sea, which lies between the vol- 

 cano and the city, would spare the saint the trouble of his intercession. 

 Crossing the bridge, the road proceeds to Portici, and what is very re- 

 markable, and probably unique, passes directly through the principal 

 court of the royal palace there. And a most welcome sight this pa- 

 lace is, and happy the traveller feels when he arrives there ; not be- 

 cause his taste is charmed with architectural splendour, or his eye 

 dazzled with liveries and equipages, for, as far as can be seen from 

 the road, there is neither one nor the other, but because it relieves 

 him of a most troublesome and disgusting swarm of attendants. 

 Beggars of every shape and hue people this road, and the tourist's 

 carriage, passing through the midst of them, resembles a comet fol- 

 lowed by its tail of foul vapour. As it rolls along a fresh addition is 



