There was a neighboring village of no
very exciting interest, and I do not know that the Italian Naval
Academy, which we passed on the way, was very exciting, though with its
villa grounds it had a pleasing rural effect. Hard by our hotel, in a
piazza that seemed to have nothing to do but surround it, was the
colossal bust of an Italian admiral, or the like, which had not the
impressivenesa of a colossal full-length figure, but which rendered the
original with the faithful realism of the Genoese Campo Santo sculpture.
In compensation there was, toward the city, near the ship-yards where
the great Italian battle-ships are built, the statue of their builder--a
man who looked it--standing at large ease, with one hand in his
pantaloons pocket, and not apparently conscious of the passer's gaze.
Beyond the ship-yard, in which a battle-ship was then receiving the last
touches, was a statue for which I could not claim an equal
unconsciousness. In fact, it challenged the public attention and even
homage as it extended the baton of command and triumphed over the four
Moorish or Algerine corsairs who, in their splendid nudity, were chained
to the several corners of the monument and owned themselves
galley-slaves.
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