THE ancient city of Puzzuoli, like Baiæ, Cumæ, and Ischia, lies within a pleasant ride of Naples, on the western shore of its beautiful bay. Of the precise antiquity of the town, it would be rather dangerous to speak, inasmuch as those authors to whom we are indebted for our knowledge in these particulars are themselves lost in conjecture. Strabo affirms it to have been built by Diceus, the son of Neptune; while Suidas declares that it was founded by Hercules. The better informed antiquarians, however, believe it to be indebted for its origin to the Ionians, in the reign of Tarquin the Proud, and that it received its name from the sulphureous springs in its neighbourhood.

In former ages Puzzuoli is supposed to have extended to the distance of four or five miles, and to have been the principal seaport of the inhabitants of Cumæ, affording a certain mart to the merchants of Sicily and Greece for the disposal of their merchandize.

The ruins which skirt the shore from the promontory are called by antiquaries Piscina Veteres, and originally formed a range of warehouses and shops, chiefly, it is conjectured, inhabited by dealers in precious ware, from the circumstance of basins, and other vessels of silver, having been discovered there, and numberless stones, carved and otherwise adapted, which were worn by the ancients in rings and ornaments.

Tully seems to hint at these precious commodities when speaking to his friend Atticus: "What have I not beheld, when journeying through the precious mart of Puteoli?" "Quid non potui videre, cùm per emporium Puteolanum iter facerem?" A Roman colony was sent hither during the time that Hannibal was making war in Italy, by whom the town was adorned with temples, theatres, and statues, and to such splendour did it arrive, that Tully called it the Little Rome. The deplorable condition in which it is now seen by the traveller would argue ill for its former prosperity, were it not that the ruins of magnificent edifices, by which it was formerly ennobled, attest but too well its original splendour. But wars, and, above all, earthquakes of the most terrific description, have contributed to desolate this once favored city.

Hannibal was the first who brought thither the Scourge of war. The civil contests between Marius

and Sylla were likewise severely felt, though the latter, when he resigned the dictatorship, fixed his abode there, and endeavoured to repair the damage caused by his devastating ambition. It was at Puzzuoli that the tyrant breathed his last, and by a frightful death was punished for a life of treachery and crime ! The city was sacked at different times by the Goths under Alaric, Genseric with his Vandals, and Totila king of the Goths. It likewise suffered from the Lombards, the Saracens, and the Normans, but the blow which completed the ruin of this ill-fated town was dealt by Alphonso I. of the house of Arragon. During the contest for the kingdom of Naples, between that prince and René of Anjou, Puzzuoli was defended gallantly by the inhabitants, in favor of the latter. Alphonso, having exerted every means to induce them to surrender without avail, blockaded them so closely that they were reduced by utter famine to submission. The defences were entirely destroyed; and Puzzuoli has never since that time ranked amongst the cities of Italy.

Earthquakes have, however, been still more fatal to Puzzuoli than war. There have been several on record ; but that which has left the most distressing ravages, and marked it, as it were, with the finger of desolation, occurred in the year 1538. For seven days previously the inhabitants had a fearful presage of this terrible catastrophe, by a continual trembling of the earth, and a recurrence of noises; when suddenly, on St. Michael's day, the 29th of September, the earth yawned horribly, and the greater part of the city, with its thousands of living beings, was swept from the face of nature into a

nameless grave! The sea withdrew 200 paces from the shore, and the town of Tripergola, within a short distance of Puzzuoli, was entirely swallowed up with all its inhabitants.

The town of Tripergola was celebrated for several noble convents, and was considered a little Eden, from its enchanting situation and the beauties with which it was adorned by nature; but it is likewise related that the profligacy of its inhabitants was proverbial, in memory of which, and as a mark of divine vengeance, from the same gulf which enclosed the guilty city there sprung a mountain of ashes, which is now known by the name of Monte Nuovo. The mountain at first vomited fire, and terrible noises were echoed from within; but since that time neither flame has been seen nor has any noise been heard. At the summit of the mountain is an opening about fifty feet in diameter, through which the flame was seen to issue; there now only remains at the bottom of this pit a dark sulphureous water. Carpaccio, speaking of the misfortunes of Puzzuoli, alludes to this dreadful monument of their calamity, and observes that the remembrance can never be effaced, being continually reminded of it by this gloomy object before them: "The people of Puteoli," says he, "felt the severest scourge of the barbarians ; but that which nature herself inflicted upon them, and which they are compelled to bear, is such as they can never forget; for they have an eternal witness of it in that mount of sorrow which daily appears before their eyes. Every thing within the neighbourhood of this dreadful visitation felt its effects. For miles round,