It has been long since extinguished,
but you meet with vast beds of sulphur and calcined stones, and the smell
is at times almost insupportable. We returned to Naples by half-past seven
o'clock, not a little tired but highly gratified by our excursion.
NAPLES, 14th Oct.
At the Teatro Nuovo I have seen another Italian tragedy performed. The
piece was Tito Manlio Torquato, taken from the well known anecdote in the
Roman history. The scenery, decorations and costume were good and
appropriate, not so the acting; for the actors as usual were imperfect in
their parts. I fully agree with Alfieri that Italy must be united and enjoy
a free popular government before one can expect to see tragedies well
performed. It is very diverting to see the puppet shows at Naples and to
hear the witticisms and various artifices of the showman of Pulcinello to
secure payment in advance from his audience, who would otherwise go away
without paying as soon as the performance was over.
This performance is much attended by the lazzaroni and faineans of the
lower orders of Naples and the puppet showman is obliged to have recourse
to various stratagems and ingenious sallies to induce a handsome
contribution to be made. Sometimes he will say with a very grave face (the
curtain being drawn up and no Pulcinello appearing) that he is very sorry
there can be no performance this day; for that poor Signor Pulcinello is
sick and has no money to pay the Doctor: but that if a quete be made for
him, he will get himself cured and make his appearance as usual. All the
while that one of the showmen goes about collecting the grani, the other
holds a dialogue with Pulcinello (still invisible). Pulcinello groans and
is very miserable. At length the collection is made. Pulcinello takes
medicine, says he is well again, makes his appearance and begins. At
another time the audience is informed that there can be no performance as
Pulcinello is arrested for debt and put in prison, where he must remain
unless a subscription of money be made for him to pay his debts and take
him out of gaol. Then follows an absurd dialogue between Pulcinello
(supposed to answer from the prison) and the showman. The showman scolds
him for being a spendthrift and leading a profligate life, calls him a
briccone, a birbante, and Pulcinello only groans out in reply, Povero
me, Povero Pulcinello, che disgrazia! sventurato di me! di non aver
denari! These strokes of wit never fail to bring in many a grano.
At another time the curtain is drawn up and discovers a gibbet and
Pulcinello standing on a ladder affixed to it with a rope round his neck.
The showman with the utmost gravity and assumed melancholy informs the
audience that a most serious calamity is about to happen to Naples:
