VII.

CERTAIN THINGS IN NAPLES.

I.

Perhaps some reader of mine who visited Naples under the old disorder
of things, when the Bourbon and the Camorra reigned, will like to hear
that the pitched battle which travellers formerly fought, in landing
from their steamer, is now gone out of fashion. Less truculent boatmen
I never saw than those who rowed us ashore at Naples; they were so
quiet and peaceful that they harmonized perfectly with that tranquil
scene of drowsy-twinkling city lights, slumbrous mountains, and
calm sea, and, as they dipped softly toward us in the glare of the
steamer's lamps, I could only think of Tennyson's description:--

"And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against the rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy lotus-eaters came."

The mystery of this placidity had been already solved by our captain,
whom I had asked what price I should bargain to pay from the steamer
to the shore. "There is a tariff," said he, "and the boatmen keep to
it. The Neapolitans are good people, (_buona gente_,) and only needed
justice to make them obedient to the laws." I must say that I found
this to be true. The fares of all public conveyances are now fixed,
and the attempts which drivers occasionally make to cheat you, seem