Prison, Naples

‎Upon a little island rising directly out of the sea stands the prison of Naples. It is lifted up and away from the din of the city, the blue sea surrounding it on every side. To-day the scene appears mirror-like and motionless, except as an occasional fishing boat glides past the prison and stirs the glassy surface. The whole line of coast from Puteoli to Sorrento repeats and renews the scene in curves and waves of beauty. The land is rounded, scooped and hollowed; holding out jutting promontories and projecting like arms of invitation to the sea. No rigid lines of defense are thrown up; no castellated masses of granite stand along the coast like line-of-battle ships drawn up for an engagement. There is no expression of defiance stamped upon the scene. The buildings, the works of man’s hands, are subordinate to the grand and commanding features of nature around and above them. Naples with its bay presents one of the finest views that this world offers to the lover of the beautiful and the sublime. The bay itself, the islands to the west, the lofty Vesuvius with its plume of smoke, the city, the villas, present a matchless panorama. Well might the poet sing: