Reader, if you will look at the picture, you will see that one of the Roman damsels is playing on the tambourine; and these holyday folks generally swing to music and loud singing. The singing, indeed, like the screaming of a bagpipe, is much louder and shriller than is agreeable to one of the uninitiated, unless it be heard at some distance. The object of every one of the vocalists, whether male or female, appears to be to beat all the rest in noise, and they very frequently sing through the nose. It has been frequently remarked, that in this land of song the taste of the popular music is execrable. There are exceptions: in most parts there are some two or three beautifully simple melodies, some of which are of an unknown antiquity, and have never been written down with musical notes and scores, but have been transmitted orally from father to son through many ages; in not a few districts the peasants sing prettily in parts; still, generally speaking, the music of the laboringclasses from one end of Italy to the other is a twanging, loud, monotonous sing-song, or a droning, drowsy noise, almost as bad as that of the Andalusian muleteers, or that of the calesso-drivers in Malta, who are said at times to sing their beasts to sleep on the road, with their burdens on their backs, or their chaises at their tails. These poor rustics never approach an opera-house; the only theatre they know is a puppet-show, their only great actor is Punch. Thus their ears have never been informed by the beautiful liquid strains of Cimarosa, or Paisiello, or Rossini, and as their taste has not been cultivated, they seem to consider their own bad music as the best. But, bad as it is, it gives them pleasure, and therefore answers the end.

Like nearly every other pastime or custom among these people, the canofieno bears the stamp of antiquity. The same strong plank, the same ropes, and very nearly the same kind of group which Pinelli drew, have been found depicted upon fragments of chamber-walls dug out of Herculaneum or Stabia.

There is another primitive sport, well known to Americans by the familiar name of "see-saw," or "ups and downs." It was often played by the trasteverini and their neighbors in the townships and villages of the Roman Campania, as also in other parts of Italy. This too is an ancient and classical pastime, for there is a picture of it painted upon the wall of one of the houses of Pompeii. The most lively player at this game that we ever chanced to see was a royal lady, who, since those happy days of her childhood, has had see-sawings and ups and downs enough-but of a far less agreeable sort. This was Donna Christina, the pretty, light, and always laughing granddaughter of the then reigning king of Naples, old Ferdinand I., who loved all manner of sports, and the most boisterous the best. In the lower garden of the royal summer palace at Portici, which stands over part of the lava-buried Herculaneum, and in the lowest part of that garden, near the open space by the seashore called the Mortelle, where King Ferdinand in his young days made a little camp, and built a sort of castle, to play at soldiers and sieges, there was a playground for the king's numerous brood of grandchildren, which was quite open to the view of two or three casini, or villas, at that time occupied by Neapolitan noblemen, who had as yet preserved the means of being sociable and hospitable. From the terrace of one of these houses, which reached nearly to the low wall of the royal garden, we often saw Donna Christina sitting on the plank and playing at see-saw with her eldest brother, now king of Naples, or of the Two Sicilies, with a zest and spirit which the daugh ters of good Dr. Primrose could not have exceeded when playing with Farmer Flamborough's family at hunt the slipper. Royal brothers and sisters of various ages, but all children, and healthy, happy children, stood round, clapping their hands and shouting without any restraint; and loud was the laughter when Don Ferdinando could succeed in jerking off Donna Christina, or Donna Christina perform the more difficult feat of unhorsing Don Ferdinando. These scenes-it is a quarter of a century since we saw them-have often come before our eyes in vivid colors, while reading in unsympathizing newspapers of the many vicissitudes and trials of that once light-hearted, joyous girl: of the jealous tyranny of her grim old uncle and husband, Ferdinand of Spain; of the bitter thraldom of Spanish etiquette; of her young and stormy widowhood, with the weight and cares of government thrown upon one who had never been trained to bear them, and who found herself from the first surrounded by fierce and d'esperate factions; of her palace burst open at midnight by a lawless and frantic soldiery; of the massacres committed under her own eyes; of her forced separation from her daughters, and long exile in France; and of the other catastrophes which have happened in a country where revolutions have succeeded each other too rapidly to be recollected without the aid of book and regis

ter. We have been told that that light, buoyant figure has become corpulent, but we can only figure her as she was. We have heard of irregularities, vices-and, considering all circumstances, we can give credit to a part of the scandalous chronicle; but what we can not and will not believe, is the assertion that Donna Christina, as queen-dowager and regent of Spain, would be a heartless and sanguinary tyrant, if she could. God help her and her daughters! It were better for them all to be playing at see-saw among the acacia-groves at Portici, than to be where they are, and what they are.

We must not, however, forget to mention the amusement most prized by the common people, viz., the Fantoccini or puppets, among whom, the world-renowned Punch and Judy occupy so conspicuous a place. The box of puppets (Burattini or Fantoccini), or what is, or was, legitimately called a puppet-show (from the French word poupée), was more frequently exhibited in the cities of Italy than the magic Lantern. There was more life and variety in it. Some of the burattini played comedy, some tragedy, and scripture pieces, which last bore a close family resemblance to the old mysteries and moralities of the English stage. The death of Judas Iscariot was a favorite subject; and particular attention was paid to the hanging scene, and to the last scene of all, where the little devils with horns and tails came to clutch the traitor and apostate:

"Piombò quell' alma a l' infernal riviera,

E si fè gran tremuoto in quel momento."

"Down went the sinner loaded with his crime

Down to deep hell; and earthquakes marked the time."

Even with the small box-puppets, or burattini, playing in the streets by broad daylight, great effects have been produced upon the populace and the peasants of the neighborhood; and critics have been heard criticising the piece and the tiny puppets with all the gravity and acumen of Partridge in "Tom Jones," who loved a puppetshow "of all the pastimes upon earth." Much ingenuity was displayed by the ventriloquist and puppet-mover inside the curtains, who not only moved the various figures and spoke for his personæ dramatis, but, in many cases, invented and extemporized the dialogues which were put into their mouths. But far grander than these perambulatory exhibitions were the plays performed within doors in Fantoccini theatres, or in large rooms converted, for the nonce, into theatres of that sort. In these puppet theatres there was a regular stage, with green baize curtain, footlights, and other accessories. (We were going to say scenes; but as the three unities of action, time, and place, were strictly adhered to, there was only one scene used for one play; and as by a little stretch of the imagination this one scene-indistinct by age and long use-might be taken just as well for a church as for a castle, or for a forest as for a cave, or for any other thing in hand, this one scene served for all manner of pieces, from the death of Cain to the exploits of Rinaldo, or the misadventures of Policinella.) But here, as was the case with Partridge's friend, the figures were as big as life, or nearly so, and the whole puppet-show was performed with great regularity and solemnity. Some orators might have studied with advantage the striking attitudes into which these figures were pulled and twitched by the invisible movers of the wires; for here there was more than one Pygmalion to give life, motion, and speech, to the burattini; and the machinery was far more complicate and perfect than in the street shows. And some good people there were who thought that the automata were more natural and far more impressive than the living actors and actresses of the penny theatres in their neighborhood. One old boatman we knew, who came from Sorrento, and who would never attend any other theatre than the puppet-show, to which he went regularly twice or thrice a week; but we believe that this arose out of some religious or moral scruples. The owner of that puppet theatre was an ingenious man, and one that had a high notion of the dignity of his profession. When very hard pressed, he could not deny that a representation by living actors and actresses had some advantages over a representation by dolls and puppets. "But," he would say, "there is one decided advantage which I, as impresario, have over my rivals: they are always tormented by the wants, the caprices, and rebellions of their company; but my little men and women of wood and wire and rags never give me any such trouble: they are often made to suffer martyrdoms by the intolerable tyranny of their prima donna, or of their chief tyrant, or primo amoroso; with them it is always happening that this lady has got a cold and won't

sing-that this gentleman is in love, or in drink, or put under restraint for debt, and can't act; and then the jars about the distribution of parts, and the deadly jealousy and hatreds that break out, and ofttimes mar the best pieces! But I know none of these sore troubles: my company have no caprices, no jealousies, no tyranny, no wants, no colds; they never quarrel with me or among themselves, and, above all things, they never ask me for money-they are never missing at play or rehearsal; and when they are done playing, paffati! (whack) I throw them into my boxes and lock them up! Ministers of state, who manage kingdoms, have been put to it how to manage a royal company of actors and actresses. A child might manage my Fantoccini."

In the Elizabethan age, the Fantoccini, if not then introduced for the first time, appear to have become rather popular in England. It should appear, however, that these first puppets were very diminutive in size, and were exhibited only at fairs and wakes. Bartholomew Fair, in London, was where they shone most. Their plays were then called "motions." Ben Jonson makes his Bartholomew-Fair puppetshowman say: "Oh! the motions that I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to in my time, since my master Pod died! Jerusalem was a stately thing, and so was Nineveh, and the city of Norwich. . . . . . . But the gunpowder plot, there was a get-penny!" The same great personage says "Your home-born subjects prove ever the best, they are so easy and familiar: they put too much learning in their things now-a-days!" Yet it should seem that eastern and scriptural subjects formed by far the greater part of the stock of these puppet-plays. In another place Ben Jonson names one puppet-play which enjoyed a long run, and which he calls "A new motion of the city of Nineveh, with Jonas and the whale." These tiny puppets evidently aspired to no higher fame than such as could be got from children and the poorer people. But the larger puppets, the Fantoccini, that were as large as life, or nearly so (like those of our Neapolitan manager), were destined to obtain the admiration of the grown-up fashionable world, and of full-grown royalty itself. Some Italian speculators of this last kind found their way to England in the time of Charles II. In the summer of 1662, Samuel Pepys saw the puppet-plays in Covent garden; and in the autumn of that year they were exhibited before King Charles and the court in the palace of Whitehall. In was nearly at the same time that women were first introduced upon the English stage to perform the female parts, which had hitherto been done by boys and young men, the latter having always been clean shaved before they put on the dress of Desdemona or Ophelia, or of such other

delicate part as they might have to play. But this nearer approach to real life did not affect the popularity of the wooden actors. The Italian puppet-shows took amazingly, and continued for many years to be frequented by the fashionable world, and a large part of the town. With many these shows even rivalled the Italian opera of that day; and Signor Nicolini Grimaldi, that admirable Neapolitan singer and actor, was often deserted for his wooden countryman Policinella and the other puppets that played tragedy and comedy.

Punch is a universality, and of a remote and indisputable antiquity. He is found in so many countries and at such distant periods of time, that it is impossible to say where or when he had his origin. He is as popular in Egypt, and Syria, and Turkey, as ever he was in Rome or Naples. Under the name of Karaguse, or Black-Snout, he has amused and edified the grave, bearded citizens of Cairo and Constantinople for many an age. Some living traces of him have been found in Nubia, and in other countries far above the cataracts of the Nile; while types or symbols of him have, according to some interpreters, been discovered among the hieroglyphics of the ancient Egyptians. He was popular at Algiers ages before the French went to conquer that country. The children of the wandering Arabs of the desert know him and cherish him. He is quite at home among the lively Persians, and beyond the Red sea and the Persian gulf, and the Indian ocean, Karaguse, or Black-Snout, is found slightly travestied in Hindostan, Siam and Pegu, Ava and Cochin-China, China Proper and Japan. The Tartars behind the great wall of China are not unacquainted with him, nor are the Kamschatkans. He has recently been discovered leading an uncomfortable sort of existence among some of the Afghan tribes, to whom no doubt he has been introduced by the Persians.

Some of the learned have opined that Punch and the whole family of burattini, or puppets, were originally introduced into Europe from the East at the time of the Crusades; but their hypothesis seems to be deficient in any solid foundation of fact. Others, perplexed with the difficulty of his genealogy, have supposed that Punch must have had several fathers, or several distinct origins at different times and in different parts of the world; and as Punch is made up of the stuff which is found wherever man is, this seems to be a good theory. Yet, to treat of him only in his European existence, he is rather a mysterious character. Capponi and other erudite Italian authors consider him as a lineal representative of the Atellan farcers, who amused the people of Campania and the citizens of Rome as far back as the time of the Tarquins. These Atellan farcers were Oscans, and took their name from the town of Atella, which stood where the village of Sant' Elpidio now stands, about two miles to the southeast of the modern town of Aversa, and only some six or seven miles from the city of Naples, the headquarters of Policinella. The Italian antiquaries found a convincing resemblance between Policinella's master and a little figure in bronze with a beak and chicken nose to its face, which was discovered at Rome; and from this chicken nose they derive Punch's Neapolitan name, Pullus signifying a chicken, Pullicinus, a little chicken, &c. Another bronze figure with the same nose or beak was discovered a few years ago among the bronzes dug out of Herculaneum; and in the ancient guardroom at Pompeii (before parts of the stucco were broken and purloined by some shameless travellers), there was a figure drawn upon the wall by some idle Roman soldier, which closely resembled the Neapolitan Punch, not only in feature but also in costume and gesture; and this rude but no doubt faithful delineation had been buried for sixteen centuries under the scoriæ, pumice, ashes, and cinders of Mount Vesuvius, before it was restored to light.

The Atellana Fabulæ, or Ludi Osci (the Atellan or Oscan farces), were anterior to any Roman or Italian stage. They were played upon planks and tressels-their theatre not being unlike that of the modern Ciarlatano, or mountebank. The actors spoke their own Oscan dialect, even as Policinella always speaks the Neapolitan dialect. One of their never-failing characters was Macchus, a roguish clown or buffoon, who made merry with everybody and everything, and who is believed to have worn a mask exactly like that of the modern Neapolitan Punch. But there were indisputably other and better family resemblances and points, in which the most ancient Oscan Macchus claims affinity with the true Punch of all ages and countries. The old Oscan has a natural elegance, and an unfathomable store of good-nature; he had no envy or malice; he loved those he made sport of, and in his most satirical allusions, his object was to excite joyous and innocent laughter, and not to rouse feelings of hatred or contempt. Hence, in the most high and palmy state of Rome,

he and his Oscan farces were admired by all classes of the community. Livy laid down the pen of history to listen to his drollery; Cicero paused to hear him as he went to or returned from the forum; and critics of refined taste applauded his jests; nay, Sylla, or Sulla, that mighty and terrible dictator, was said at one time of his life to have written Atellan farces for the Oscan Punch to play in. Throughout the period of the empire, or at least from the time of the emperor Augustus down to that of the last of the Cæsars, these Ludi Osci enjoyed an undisturbed popularity. Like other good things, they were eclipsed or trodden under foot in the anarchy and barbarism which followed. Some think that they were entirely destroyed, together with every memory of their having once existed; but this is, at the least, problematical. We rather lean to the opinion of those who maintain that, like the Delhi Lama in Thibet, Punch within the limits of Naples was the great Undying One." We look upon the story told by the learned and acute Galiani, in his vocabulary of the Neapolitan dialect, as upon a mere revival. The story goes thus: "Once upon a time (it was a very long time ago), a company of strolling comedians chanced to arrive at the town of Acerra, near the city of Naples, in the season of vintage. At that merry season, even more than in carnival time, the country-people are allowed all the liberty and license of the ancient Saturnalia. They daub and stain themselves with the wine-lees, put wreaths or garlands upon their heads, dress up a young man as Bacchus, and an old one as Silenus, give full play to their lungs and tongues, and play nearly all the pagan pranks that were performed by their ancestors, or predecessors in the soil, two thousand years ago, at the same joyous season of the year. Whomsoever they see, they accost with songs and jests. Judge, therefore, how the vintagers gathered round the strolling players, with their jokes and vociferations. The universal rule is, that everybody must either pay a fine or cap the jests. The comedians, being jest-makers by profession, and poor by destiny, tried the latter course, but were beaten and silenced. One of the vintagers, called Puccio d'Aniello, or Puccio the son of Aniello, remarkable for a very queer nose, and for an appearance altogether grotesque, was the most forward and witty of all his band, and it was his torrents of drollery and fancy that drove the poor players out of the field. Reflecting on this occurrence professionally," so goes Galiani's story," the comedians thought that a character like that of their antagonist Puccio d'Aniello, might prove very attractive on the stage; and going back to the vintager, they proposed an engagement to him, which he accepted. The engagement proved profitable to both parties, and wherever they went and acted, whether in the capital or in provincial towns, Puccio d'Aniello drew crowded houses. After some years Puccio died, but his place was presently filled by a competent and everyway-worthy successor, who assumed his name, liquified into Polecenella (the strictly correct designation in the Neapolitan dialect), and also his manner and costume, and not having the same natural nose, he perpetuated that feature of the facetious vintager by wearing a mask for the upper part of his face, upon which Puccio's nose was lively represented. By degrees, personifications of the original Puccio d'Aniello were multiplied all over the kingdom; and the name and character of Polecenella became immortal."

This is the whole of Galiani's story; and a very good story it is. But the acute reader will see and bear in mind that Acerra, the named birthplace of Puccio, lies in the Oscan territory, and a very little way from Atella, the native home of Macchus and the Ludi Osci. He will also remember the antique bronze figures, with their typical noses, and the delineation on the wall of the guardhouse at Pompeii, as well as the good etymology which derives the name from the hooked nose, or beak. Moreover, it remains to be mentioned, that though Policinellas were multiplied after the demise of Puccio d'Aniello, and have been multiplied in all succeeding ages, there has never been more than one true and real Policinella living at any one given time, while there has never been any time since the obscuration of Puccio, without its one real and super-excellent Policinella. The Neapolitans no more expect two at a time, than they expect two suns or two moons. Their one Punch has his temple and shrine in the capital; the rest that flit about in the provinces are pseudo Punches, with nothing of the character save the mask and dress. We say little; we never try to broach a theory or to build up a system; but we think of the Delhi Lama in Thibet, who was born again young as soon as he died old, and of the perpetual rejuvenescence of Punch in this Oscan corner of the kingdom of Naples, and then-but a word to the wise is enough.

During our long stay at Naples we had la felicita di conoscere-the happiness of