Every vetturino who is returning to Rome, on passing by, buys a
quantity, for a mere trifle, from the peasantry, who employ themselves much
a la chasse, and he is certain to sell them again at Rome for three or
four times the price he paid, and even then it appears marvellous cheap to
an Englishman, accustomed as he is to pay a high price for game in his own
country.
We arrived a little before six at Terracina, which is on the banks of the
Mediterranean and may be distinguished at a great distance by its white
buildings. The chain of mountains on the left of our road hither form a
sort of arch to the chord of the linea Pia and terminates one end of the
arch by meeting the linea Pia at Terracina, which forms what the sailors
call a bluff point. Terracina stands on the situation of the ancient Anxur
and the description of it by Horace in his Brundusian journey;
Impositum saxis late candentibus Anxur[94]
is perfectly applicable even now. It is a handsome looking city and is the
last town in the Pope's territory: part of it is situated on the mountain
and part on the plain at its foot close to the sea.
The fine white buildings on the heights, the temple of Jupiter Anxurus (of
which the facade and many columns remain entire) towering above them, the
orange trees and the sea, afford a view doubly pleasing and grateful to the
traveller after the dreary landscape of the Pontine Marshes. There is but
one inn at Terracina but that is a very large one; there is, however, but
very indifferent fare and bad attendance. The innkeeper is a sad
over-reaching rascal, who fleeces in the most unmerciful manner the
traveller who is not spesato. He is obliged to furnish those who are
spesati with supper and lodging at the vetturino's price; but he always
grumbles at it, gives the worst supper he can and bestows it as if he were
giving alms. As the road between Terracina and Fondi (the first Neapolitan
town) is said to be at times infested by robbers, few travellers care to
start till broad daylight. We did so accordingly the following morning. On
arriving at a place called the Epitafio, from there being an ancient tomb
there, we took leave of the last Roman post. At one mile and half beyond
the Epitafio is the first Neapolitan post at a place called Torre de'
Confini, where we were detained half an hour to have our passports
examined and our portmanteaus searched. Three miles beyond this post is the
miserable and dirty town of Fondi, wherein our baggage again underwent a
strict search.
