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The Life and Letters of John Gibson Lockhart
Chapter 18: 1837-43
John Gibson Lockhart to Jonathan Christie, 13 September 1843
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Vol. I. Preface
Vol. I Contents.
Chapter 1: 1794-1808
Chapter 2: 1808-13
Chapter 3: 1813-15
Chapter 4: 1815-17
Chapter 5: 1817-18
Chapter 6: 1817-19
Chapter 7: 1818-20
Chapter 8: 1819-20
Chapter 9: 1820-21
Chapter 10: 1821-24
Chapter 11: 1817-24
Chapter 12: 1821-25
Chapter 13: 1826
Vol. II Contents
Chapter 14: 1826-32
Chapter 15: 1828-32
Chapter 16: 1832-36
Chapter 17: 1837-39
Chapter 18: 1837-43
Chapter 19: 1828-48
Chapter 20: 1826-52
Chapter 21: 1842-50
Chapter 22: 1850-53
Chapter 23: 1853-54
Chapter 24: Conclusion
Vol. II Index
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Naples, September 13, 1843.

My dear Christie,— . . . At Milan we had a couple of days most interesting—the Duomo being by many miles beyond any Gothic Cathedral I
LETTER FROM ITALY207
have ever seen—even Cologne and Strasburg—and the Ambrosian Library containing several first-rate pictures, &c., and the Last Supper of
L. da Vinci being still visible enough (on the walls of a deserted refectory, turned by the French into a stable) to prove that no engraver or copyist has caught even a glimpse of the Saviour’s expression—but the wonderful picture is otherwise a mere ghost, and will soon be laid entirely. Thence we proceeded to Genoa, and enjoyed some palaces; but I thought the describes had all been much in the exaggerating line. Then we took steam for Leghorn, and nothing can be more delicious than such travelling in this season over the Mediterranean, which never showed more than a ripple; and, by-the-bye, I thought our captain gave a very sensible account of the blue of the sea, which Davy tried to explain and failed to satisfy himself. . . . He says the reason is plain—where there are no tides the yellow sand is rarely stirred from the bottom to mix with the blue and make it green. The cuisine on board very good, abundance of ice, and the company excellent, especially some very well-bred and well-read Franciscan Friars, with whom I conversed in very elegant Latin, de Papa et Puseyo et quibusdam aliis. We had also a couple of worthy and learned priests from Minister (in Westphalia), on their pilgrimage to Rome, and quite made friends with them. One, after dinner, sang in fine style—our own old mihi est propositum in taberna mori. Funny to hear that from a German
208 LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART.  
divine in a Tuscan boat off Civita Vecchia. These all landed and went to Rome, and we were afraid if we once got there we should never go farther, and so stuck on the boat, and had another glorious night—seeing, when the sun rose, Vesuvius right ahead, with his smoke all blazing in the purple, and Capreæ and Baiæ, and, by-and-by, all the bays and promontories between Baiæ and Castellamare. You can’t conceive anything richer, grander, or more beautiful, certainly nothing more curious, for every rock is pierced with Roman brick, and you can see arches and pedestals creeping everywhere into the sea. We have since perambulated the shore, and found the remains of temples and baths and water reservoirs very satisfactory—these last on a truly stupendous scale—their object to supply the Tyrrhine fleet, which usually lay at Misenum. Avernus (close by) is very like a third-rate Highland loch, and the King has a most cockneyfied little fishing lodge just where it ought least to have been. The Acherusia palus is no great shakes:—
Smith of Dranston would soon convert it into better ground than the Elysian fields just beyond, which produce only food for goats, i.e. bitter herbs smothered in dust. We spent our first day at Pompeii; but I shall only say that none of the books or prints had given us the least notion of the place, nor even of the minutest discoveries. I was, I confess, surprised to find that the Legionaries found dead at their sentry-posts had their heads cased as heavily and
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completely in enormous hats of iron, with visors down, and merely two open circlets to look through, or (when the finish indicated an officer) a barred visor, precisely as in the helmets on our heraldics. . . . —Ever affectionately yours,

J. G. Lockhart.”