had the bearing of royalty deeply marked on its furrowed decay. I
asked its use, and was informed that it was a maccaroni manufactory.
I drew nigh, and stood, in company with dozens of girls, looking
through its decayed apertures. I saw hundreds of men walking about in
a perfect state of nudity, and also as many more moving round at
quicker step. I would discover every few moments a couple of these
that seemed to be mantled with small reeds of a bending nature, step
on a platform and commence turning round, like crazy men imitating
the spinning of a top, but I could discover nothing of their
intention until they walked off the platform, when I could plainly
see that they had divested themselves of something I knew not what.
The way they make maccaroni in Rome, is thus: when it is hot or warm,
the men stand by the aperture that squeezes it into a reed-like
shape, and wind it round their bodies until they are totally covered
or mantled, and then they walk in great haste in a circle until it is
nearly cool, after which they walk on the aforesaid platform and
unwind themselves from its cooling grasp, and there it stays until it
becomes totally dry, after which they box it for export. That which
is made for home consumption is not made on so extensive a scale, and
different ideas of neatness is needed lest it affect the home
consumption.
Three days it took me to pass through the "Vatican." It is the great
gallery of fine arts, and the Pope lives in one part of this Palace.
The Carnival being over, I took one day to go to Tivoli to see an old
temple and olive orchard and the vast ruins of the emperor Adrian's
brick palace, after which I returned to Rome, and bought some mosaiac
work in breast pin jewelry, hired a viturino and four, went to St.
Peters and took a last farewell glance at St. Peter, who stands in
his statue dignity over an altar with his keys of Heaven, and left
Rome in its decay of tyrannical monuments for Naples, its bay and
Vesuvius.
NAPLES AND ITS CRAFT.
After twenty days sight-seeing in Rome, observe me seated in the
front of a viturino on my way to Naples. E. G. Squires, the author of
a book of discoveries, is seated in one of the back seats. He is a
little man full of humor, and a man to judge him by his looks and
manners would have a hard task to steer from error. He is well versed
in Roman lore. We were now an hour and half out from Rome, and he
said "look there ahead, those old walls we are going under is the
walls of old Rome, and that high archway, with those splendid pillars
of carved stone, is the gate leading into Rome via the Appian road
from Naples." We passed through these walls and Rome was forgotten,
in the matters of interest to which he directed our attention. As we
came up to the pretty little ruined city Albano, he said, "there,
gentlemen, is the tomb of Pompey the Great." It was a tall monumental
tomb of white marble, but fallen on all sides by the wreck of the
weather. We entered Albano and dined, and paid a visit to the Veil of
Diana, whose temple was here at Albano. This city occupies the site
of the palace of Pompey the Great and Domitian. The Veil of Diana is
a lake of a few hundred yards round, and hemmed in on all sides by
cliffs of fertility. Two days and a half brought me to the back part
of the city of Naples. In coming to Naples by this route you are some
hours going down hill, but as the lombard poplar trees are so
numerous, it is impossible to get a look at Naples; occasionally I
could hear the roar of Vesuvius and the hum of business, coming by
the force of the breeze from the bay on the other side. All at once I
came out on an open descending slope, but, a quarter of a mile ahead,
the lombardy poplars intercepted our view, still over their tops, off
to the left of Naples, I could see Vesuvius like a sleeping giant
with his flag of wrath ascending on high. The flag of smoke was as
still as a standing cloud, and it stood like God on the earth, but
spreading above in the Heavens.
Napoli is the city's name, and its meaning is New City, and we call
it Naples.
I don't think that one contented man can be found in the whole city
of Naples, with its 450,000 souls. Every time this growling, burning
mountain roars it jars the whole city; organ grinders give themselves
as little trouble about Vesuvius as any other class, and the streets
are full of them. They stand all day playing away in the streets as
if they had no where to run to, whilst all house tenants, citizens,
king and priests, run in the streets for fear Vesuvius will spit fire
and brimstone on them, for she has once or twice proved that she,
like God, had no respect of persons. Naples is at least five miles
off, but they looked to me as if they were only a quarter of a mile
apart. It is believed by philosophical men that Vesuvius has burnt
out her bowels for miles under the shallow bay, and also under
Naples.
I went to Pompeii and Herculanium, two great cities that Vesuvius, in
her tipsy spree, belched all over, destroying population, temples,
theatres, and gladiatorial arenas. Expeditions from different parts
of the world were here, excavating crowns of diamonds; and hundreds
of thousands of scuddies worth of the rarest jemmed jewelry has been
found, even upon the parched bones of notorious victims to this
hideous spree.
Naples was founded one thousand and three hundred years before the
Christian era, and still escapes this awful calamity. Generation
after generation has lived and died in this fear, and still Naples is
yet the most wicked city on the face of the globe. It shows that
hell-fire preaching will never advance man in this world, or better
prepare him for another. Nothing but an educated mind can ever
understand the mission of christianity. If tyranny can ever do
anything with the mind of man, it had full scope here. The
Neapolitans, reared under such fearful influences of wrath, must
naturally be tempered with surrounding influences. To see a club
slain man in Naples is no object of pity; their mind is forever
placed on wholesale calamities, and nothing short of that can excite
sympathy in such a people. They can fight well because they are
always well prepared to fight, or be annihilated. When the great
Carthagenian, who was so victorious over the Romans, at the well
known battle of Thrasimene, came here to take Naples, he was so much
frightened at the walls, that he would not undertake to besiege the
city. Cumae was the first name of this city, but its inhabitants
being a very jealous people, fell out, and destroyed it; but it was
soon rebuilt, and then it was renamed New City, Napoli, when its
walls obtained the strength that scared the son of Hamilcar, who had
come away from Carthage, leaving behind him a people who could never
believe that the Italians could be whipped, not even by Hannibal,
until he sent three bushels of gold rings back, that was taken from
the fingers of conquered Italians, to prove it.
There is three hundred churches in Naples, but the vestry of
priesthood is no sign of the true temple of wisdom. The lower classes
are craft ridden from the faggest end of an intelligent class, to the
uttermost peak of sublime ignorance. The moral authority has great
power over those who profess to be the followers of the Church; even
the king himself, is afraid of the priest. In illustration of this I
must relate an anecdote on the present king of Naples, whose title
is better known as the king of the two Sicilies. A good, and honest
intentioned priest one day called on the king to obtain a certain
small sum of money from his honor, as a starting point of collection
to build a church at a certain place. The king, who loves money much,
refused to start the ball rolling by contributing the first
subscription. The good father, somewhat astonished, stood sometime,
thinking over the chances of getting anything after the king's
refusal, put his hand under his ground colored gown to lay hold of
his handkerchief to wipe his nose and eyes of their weeping. The king
took fright, and ran to the bell and rang furiously, the guard came
running in and arrested the priest, but to their great pleasure they
discovered that the king was frightened at the priest's motion for
his handkerchief, instead of a stilleto. The people got wind of it,
and laughed at the scary old king so that he dare not go out.
This old ugly king has been trying to make some improvements in the
way of morality. He has appropriated a small portion of the city to
the safe keeping of lewd women. It is about three squares of this
city being walled in, and all women found and proven in adultery are
to be condemned to the inside of these walls until the city
authorities become satisfied that they are sufficiently punished.
Police are stationed at the gate and no one but spectators are
allowed to go in and out, except an old woman who acts as their
steward. All foreigners are allowed to go in once, but I don't
suppose foreigners ever wished to go in more than once. When I was
in, the Lazaroni asked me if I would allow him to spend a quarter of
my bag of change to see the women perform. I, not knowing what he
meant, said "Yes." He gave a 25c. piece to one woman, and there was a
hundred in that group, and said something in Italian, when, as many
as wished to claim stock in the 25 cents commenced showing their
nakedness, to the horror of man's sensual curiosity. I saw fifty
women show what I had never legally seen before. I must end this
chapter and commence another of more superstition, of St. Janarius
and his Blood.
ST. JANARIUS AND HIS BLOOD.
In the centre of Naples, on a very high hill, is a splendid old
castle or fort. Myself and two American ladies winded round its base
upwards, till we reached its gates. Our guide beat there some time
before its old lord would hear; we handed him our permit from below
to enter, and he said "walk in," in the French tongue. These two
American ladies and their father seemed to make quite an agreeable
impression on the commander of the castle or fort. He invited us into
his parlor where he asked us many disguised questions, such as; "how
do you like Naples?" "when are you going to leave and what directions
will you take from here?" was some of his questions. Having "pumped"
us as dry as he could, he called a guard and put us under escort to
see the wonders of this old tyrant mound. Cannons were pointed from
the loopholes of this fort to all parts of the city. The people are
afraid to rebel against the laws of Ferdinand II, because orders from
the palace to this castle can come under ground. The king has a
private path miles under ground to get to this castle when besieged
in his palace. It is said that this fort can destroy the city in a
few hours; can batter it all down and set it on fire with its shells,
and burn it up, and as the property belongs to the citizens they keep
quiet. The old man now invited us back to his saloon and asked us our
opinions of this, his castle; of course it was all we anticipated and
more too. Whilst he was delighted with the ladies' answers to his
questions, I walked out in the court, and the lazaroni or guide
called my attention to the open register, where all visitors' names
are recorded, and glanced at the following record of that morning:
"_Mons. Millenberger et deau dame; Compte Fello de Amerique et une
jeune homme._" This was indeed laughable, but to make it more absurd,
my old guide informed me that he was aware of our nobility some days
ago. I inquired of him how it was possible for him to find out such a
mystery. He smiled very knowingly and assured me that he was
possessed of peculiar tact for finding out such things. Then in his
confirmation of his skill in fathoming this hidden secret, he told me
of a Mr. Rice, a powerful lord of South Carolina, who would be an
heir to an immense estate if he lived long enough, and of his noble
bearing, and how Mr. R. tried to conceal it from him, but it couldn't
be done, and which Mr. Rice had to acknowledge. Then he went on to
show me why Americans ought not to try and conceal such things as
they eventually lost the best accomodation the hotels could afford,
by not letting it be known who it was wanted them. He also suggested
that American noblemen ought to wear some peculiar mark or sign that
they may be distinguished from those of an inferior dignity. I for
once felt like driving the good-natured old fool away, but as he was
so bigoted with his own errors I told him that all noblemen of
American peculiarities did have signs about them unmistakeable. Here
his curiosity rose to such a pitch he asked me to make it known to
him so that he might hereafter know how to treat such worth. I told
him that if ever he came across an American of Arkansas or Texas, to
get behind him when seated and look over his left shoulder, in his
bosom, and he will most likely see something like an elephant's tusk,
but it was nothing more nor less than what was called a toothpick,
and when he saw that, it would be to his advantage to be mighty
polite. The old man believes now he has the insignia of an American
prince, and intends treating him with due respect to his high
position.
From this Fort I took a ride to Baie, and after two hours' ride I
reached it. Two thousand years ago it was a great city where Cæsar
and Cicero dwelt a great part of their time. The site of their
palaces are yet discernable. The hot baths out of the earth are here
yet, and I took one. No doubt but they are heated, running under the
bay from Vesuvius on the other side. A few hundred yards out in the
bay is the smallest island I ever saw to have a town of thousands of
souls on it. It is about a mile in circumference. The town takes up
almost all of the island of Procida. The inhabitants are nearly all
Greek descendants, and are celebrated for keeping up the Greek
fashions. The old guide insisted on us going into the heart of
Procida, where he would show us the curious costumes. Having waited
in an old dirty room some time for the scene, a rough working girl
came into the room and stood some time. The old man asked me how I
liked it? but I couldn't see anything different from other women
about the town. He told her to turn around, when he called my
attention to some plaiting around the waist of the woman's dress. She
now whispered something to our guide, which, when translated, meant
that she had her soap to make, and would like to discontinue the
performance as the show was out. He said we must give her a couple of
pauls for her trouble of dressing and undressing. This old man kept
us laughing all the way back to Naples. When leaving Baie, passing
some old magnificent ruins, he said, "Gentlemen, that is the ruins of
the palace of Lucullus, the greatest eater that ever was in Italy."
Then he commenced relating Plutarch's history of Lucullus' style of
living. He told us of the single dish that was expensive to the tune
of 1,200 francs. Here the old man licked out his tongue, in token of
his approbation of its being good. This old man has a country seat
and town residence. He showed us, on our way out, his country seat;
it consists of an old brick building, that in times of yore must have
been used by somebody, who had a house, as a stable, and being an
enterprising man, his mouth watered for it as a filthy retreat from
Naples, when he can get no labor, such as he is now occupied with. We
give him about forty cents a day, and he finds himself.
In Napoli is a church of fearful renown. It is built upon the site of
the temple of Apollo; it was commenced by Charles the first, and
finished by Charles the second, in the twelfth century. It is built
of stone, and pillars of stone, from all parts of Africa, brought
here in conquest. In it is buried the aforesaid Charles. This is the
church of St. Janarius; a large statue of St. Janarius is represented
seated, and always ready to bless the people. In a small tabernacle,
with silver doors, is preserved the head and two vials of the Saint's
blood, said to have been collected by a Neapolitan lady during his
martyrdom. This blood becomes miraculously liquid, whenever it is
placed before the head of St. Janarius. The ceremony of this miracle
is repeated three times a year, that is, during eight days in the
month of May, eight days during the month of September, and on the
day of protection, on the 16th of December. This miracle is to the
Neapolitans a constant object of devotion and astonishment, of which
no one that has not been present, can form a just idea. When the
liquifaction of the blood takes place immediately, the joy of the
people knows no bounds; but if the operation of the miracle is
retarded one moment, the cries and groaning of the people rend the
air; for at Naples the procrastination of this miracle is considered
the prestage of some great misfortune; the grief, particularly of
the women, is so great, that the blood never fails to become liquid,
and resume its consistency, on each of the eight days; so that every
one may see and kiss the blood of St. Janarius, in as liquid a state
as when it first issued from his veins. The city of Naples has been
in danger of being destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, by
earthquakes, and other calamities, such as war, pestilence, &c., &c.,
but it has always been delivered by the blood of this mighty Saint. A
lady writer says: "At one time the blood was rather slow about doing
its duty, when their hypocritical priest says to the people, that the
blood would never liquidate so long as they allowed the French to
keep possession of the town. As soon as the French general heard
this, he sent notice to the people that if the priest did not make
the blood liquidate in ten minutes, off went his head. There was
great lamentation for the priest, and the whole city was sympathizing
with him, as his time was short; but at the expiration of nine
minutes and three quarters the blood liquidated."
CONSTANTINOPLE.
On the second day of May I glided out on the beautiful bay of Naples,
and steered towards the east, where the wise men lived, and the light
rose up. The first piece of terra firma next discovered was Etna, in
Sicily. Sicily, before the crusade of king Siguard, was governed by
Dukes and Earls. Mussinna is the only town of any particular note, on
this fertile island. Mt. Etna, while at Musina, hides half of the
firmament from your view, but when seen at eventide from the deck of
a receding vessel, it seems to have sunk in a mole hole. It takes two
days carriage ride around its base, to reach its top. Six days out
from Naples brought our good vessel to Syria, a city in Greece, with
14,000 inhabitants. It is a charming sight to look at from your
vessel, on account of its resemblance to _wall hung pigeon houses_.
From the sea, you look at a mountain, with hundreds of systematical
white spots clinging to its sides, and which proves to be Syria.
The ship stopped here a day, and all the passengers, and the rest of
mankind, went ashore. The men were quite handsome for such a rough
country; four or five young men and myself, were determined to see
some of the Syrian ladies, if possible. On we went to the top of the
city, through very narrow streets, and few ran over fifty yards
without ending, and taking some unknown direction. After great
exertion we reached the highest house, but, like Moses from his
Pisgah, we saw the land but not its fruits. We were still inclined to
prosecute our search, until our minds came to some definite
conclusion. An exclamation of joy burst forth from one of our
company, indicating success. We all moved closer to our guide, who,
most wonderful to behold, had discovered the figure of a woman with
her back towards us. We passed respectfully by her, trying to conceal
our emotion of success. The first that passed her, quickly turned
round as if he would speak to our companions, just as you have seen a
young lady walk a little ahead of her companion, to have an excuse to
look back at some young gent who seemed to have admired her when
passing, and lo! this woman's face was bound in the fashion of death,
her motion was as still as the grave, and well it might be, as it was
nothing but a marble figure of some Grecian maid, long dead. We had
one good laugh to reward the artist of so exquisite a piece of his
skill. The young men went skipping down the hill towards our vessel.
I, taking more interest in this monumental piece of affection, did
not discover that my friends were gone until I found myself a "last
Mohican." I started to descend the theatrical looking town, by
winding in and out of small passage ways, until I found myself up an
alley with no outlet, and when I turned to go out, the gate was fast
and barred. A gate running in another direction was opened, and, old
as a man could well be, was an old priest, seated on a stone
beckoning to me to come in. I did not seem to comprehend, but he was
determined I should, and came out with an extraordinary long string
of beads nearly counted. He spoke several languages, and informed me
that if my business was what all persons' business is that enter that
alley, that he was ready to give me absolution. I informed him in
French that I was there through a mistake; and he then told me that
it was usual in Syria for those wishing immediate absolution, to come
to the priest's residence at all times, when there was no services in
church, and on payment of a small fee, get value received in full. He
was a kind old man. He offered to give me absolution right off, for
any mistake, or bad intention that I allowed to occupy my attention,
whilst in Syria.
Whilst I was explaining to the priest, I heard a suppressed laugh at
the gate. The priest opened the gate and let me out. My friends were
close by; they had seen me go in the passage way with no outlet and
fastened the gate on me, as they say "to have a lark," but they
little knew that they were then placing me in wisdom's way; I had
learned more with the priest than I could from them all day long.
Our sail is up, and on ahead of us is Smyrna, the birthplace of
Homer, one of the seven churches of Asia Minor, and it has 150,000
inhabitants, and it is close to the Isle of Patmos, where St. John
wrote the Revelations and saw four angels standing on the four
quarters of the globe holding up the four winds of Heaven, that they
might not blow upon the sea nor the earth.
Smyrna has been destroyed ten or twelve times and still has a large
population. Like Syra, Smyrna is on the side of a hill. None of its
ancient buildings remain except a corner wall of an old church that
resounded back the voice of St. John to the minds of his hearers,
when he preached those very Epistles we hear every Sabbath, in all
Christian lands. The streets and bazaars are densely crowded with
business men from all smaller towns for hundreds of miles around, and
the houses, which are only one story, seem to be as densely filled
with pretty women. I see no window of a respectable looking house
without a lady. I cannot describe the ladies dress as I was not
fortunate enough to get inside, and as they are very seldom on the
street. The dresses of the men were of so many styles it would not
pay to describe them, it is enough to say that it consisted of a many
colors as Joseph's coat, of some cotton or silk woof of all
qualities.
There being no accommodation here for travelers, we did not ask the
captain to lay by all night. Next morning we were sailing through the
rapid Hellespont, at the Dardenelles. About ten o'clock, A. M. we
reached the part of the Hellespont where Lord Byron swam across from
Europe to Asia--from Sestos to Abydos.
"If in the month of dark December,
Leander, who was nightly wont
(What maid will not the tale remember?)
To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont!"