NAPLES AND POMPEII.
By noon on Sunday, March twenty-second, the various parties had
reassembled as one large family on board the Moltke in the harbor of
Alexandria, and shortly afterward they saw the land of the palms
disappear from sight below the horizon. Friends and acquaintances who
had chosen different excursions on land and had been separated for some
time had many experiences to relate to one another. Some, who had taken
the Damascus trip, gave a description of the magnificent ruins of the
famous temple of Baalbek and of the enormous size of the granite blocks
which lay scattered over the ground at that place, and displayed
bargains in hammered brass and silken rugs which they had secured in the
bazaars of the oldest city in the world. Others, who had taken a sail on
blue Galilee and a journey on horseback through the interior of
Palestine, told of the unexpected luxuries of camp life, of squalid
villages and more squalid inhabitants, of bridgeless streams that had to
be forded, of Arab camps and Bedouin chiefs, and of towns, mountains,
plains, and wells, the names of which were familiar to the student of
the Bible. They showed to their friends albums in which they had pressed
the flowers gathered in villages where the Savior once strayed, or
culled in fields through which He probably had trod. Some who had taken
a carriage ride to the Dead Sea and the River Jordan described the
loneliness of the road and the armed Bedouin protectors who accompanied
them, the dilapidated condition of Jericho, the desolate shores and
bitter salty taste of the Sea, the muddy banks of the River Jordan and a
row on the rapid stream. Their souvenirs were vials filled with salt
water from the Sea, and bottles of the fresh, but not very clear water
from Jordan's stream.
[Illustration: ON THE BANK OF THE RIVER JORDAN.]
"The only place where we were treated with disrespect during our trip
was in Hebron," said one of a group around a table in the library.
"There the natives were an ill-tempered set. They scowled as if
resentful of our presence, and when we were driving away some hoodlums
of the town threw chunks of mud and stone after our carriage."
"That reminds me," said another, "of a picture I want to show you. On
the landing at Esneh up the Nile we thought that our clothes would be
torn to pieces by the natives, but not through ill-will. The donkey boys
were so eager to secure our custom that a struggle ensued in which
donkey boys, donkeys, and tourists were inextricably mixed until the
dragoman used his whip. My brother took a snap-shot of the scene just as
Achmet raised his whip."
Some of the tourists had stayed ten days in Jerusalem, some twelve days
in Cairo, others had been at Philae and the Cataract of the Nile. Each
one was enthusiastic over his trip and appeared to be satisfied with the
way in which the eighteen days in Palestine and Egypt had been spent.
Monday dawned cloudy with some wind and rain, and although the weather
was not stormy, the boat had that uneasy motion which had been felt once
before on the Mediterranean. Many of the tourists, believing prevention
better than cure, remained in their staterooms, or, snugly wrapped,
reclined in their steamer chairs on deck and had luncheon served to them
there, fewer than half the seats at the dining table being occupied.
On Tuesday, however, the sea was as smooth as a river. The "Captain's
Dinner," which had been postponed from the previous day on account of
the weather, was announced for the evening, and the dining room was
handsomely decorated with flags, garlands of artificial roses, and
additional lights for the special occasion. The depression of Monday was
forgotten and the tourists were in a happy humor.
[Illustration: FILLED VIALS WITH WATER FROM THE DEAD SEA.]
At the dinner the Captain made a neat speech referring to the pleasant
relations during the voyage and the separation which was shortly to take
place. The judge, in behalf of the passengers, responded in a jovial
vein. "Three cheers for the Captain" were given with enthusiasm,
followed by "He's a jolly good fellow," heartily sung. Every one arose
as the orchestra played "America," and later, when the stars and
stripes were dropped from overhead, all rose again to accompany the
orchestra in the "Star Spangled Banner." Then the electric lights were
turned out and while we sat in darkness, the stewards and waiters,
dressed in fantastic costumes of various nations, entered and in a long
procession marched around the room, each waiter carrying aloft an
illuminated tower of ice-cream, and each steward a dish of bonbons. When
the bonbons, containing whistles and fancy caps, were opened, the
dignity of judge, professor, and minister was laid aside and the
tourists were a joyous, noisy crowd of children.
While we were at dinner the promenade deck was cleared of chairs,
decorated with flags, and illuminated with Chinese lanterns in
preparation for a masked ball which was to be the crowning and closing
event of the day. In this fancy-dress carnival many of the passengers
appeared dressed in fantastic gowns prepared during the day, or as
Orientals in costumes that had been purchased in Eastern cities.
While the maskers and onlookers were enjoying the music and sport, the
Moltke was steaming northward through the Strait of Messina. On the
right shone the lighthouses of Italy and the lights of the Italian town
of Reggio; on the left gleamed the flash-lights of Sicily and long rows
of twinkles revealed the location of the large city of Messina.
On rising Wednesday morning we found the sea perfectly smooth with
scarcely a ripple to disturb its blue surface. The Moltke was speeding
through the waters with an almost imperceptible motion. On our left was
the island of Capri, famous for its blue grotto, and the morning
sunlight playing on its rugged shores, revealed a white road cut in the
rocky cliffs, zigzagging up the side of the hill from the village at the
base to the village on the summit. As the steamer coasted the Italian
shore, we saw dimly through the mist the bay and town of Salerno, then
picturesque Sorrento perched among the rocks, and, in the distance,
fog-crowned Mount Vesuvius with a thin column of smoke ascending from
the crater, and many towns and villages at its base. Directly ahead of
us were the bay of Naples and the city, partially hidden from our sight
by a fog. Just before reaching the quarantine station a small steamer
crowded with passengers emerged from the fog and crossed the course of
the Moltke, narrowly escaping destruction.
The Moltke dropped anchor at quarantine and a yellow flag was run to the
top of the mast to remain floating there until the Italian physician had
completed his examination and was convinced that there were not, and had
not been, any cases of plague, cholera, or contagious disease on the
ship. During the detention at quarantine a large mail was brought on
board. We crowded eagerly into the office inquiring for letters. The
stewards, not taking time to distribute the mail in the boxes, called
out the addresses, and little thought was given to anything else until
letters and papers were obtained and the news from home devoured.
The fog soon rolled away and Naples, beautifully situated on the
crescent-shaped shores of the bay, was disclosed to view. From the deck
of the steamer we saw a picture unsurpassed in color and composition
by any previously beheld, excepting, perhaps, the view of Constantinople
from the Bosporus, or the panorama of Algiers seen from the sea; but
each one of the three pictures was unique and beyond comparison. But
here, as at Constantinople, distance lent an enchantment to the view;
for a closer inspection after landing revealed on the white and yellow
and pink buildings ravages of time and unsightly stains of smoke and
grime unnoticed from the bay.
[Illustration: THE GREAT DOORWAY OF THE TEMPLE OF HORUS AT EDFU.]
We had no sooner reached the street, ready for sight-seeing, than the
cabriolet drivers thronged about, importuning us to ride in the low open
carriages that comfortably carry two persons.
"How much to the Cathedral?" we asked one of the drivers, using an
expression that we thought the Italian might comprehend.
"One lira the course, one and a half lire the hour," he succeeded in
getting us to understand.
"Only ten cents each. And it's fully two miles to the Cathedral!"
exclaimed my companion. "But we have a number of places to visit," he
added, "and it will be better to engage the cab by the hour. Show him
your watch and make a note of the time."
At the entrance of the Cathedral, the beggars asking alms reminded us of
the description of similar scenes at the gate of the Temple in the
Savior's time. A blind man standing by the door called loudly upon the
passers-by to have pity on him, a cripple seated on the steps with rough
crooked crutches by his side stretched out his hand for aid, and a fat
dirty woman with a tiny babe in her arms whiningly cried, "poveretta
mia! poveretta mia!"
[Illustration: I. THE ISLAND OF CAPRI.]
[Illustration: II. VILLAGE AT ITS BASE AND VILLAGE ON ITS SUMMIT.]
The regular services in the Cathedral were over when we entered, but
many people were in the building. Some were in silent adoration before
the Cross at the magnificent high altar; some were worshiping at the
foot of the Virgin, or praying at the shrines of the saints; others were
contritely kneeling at the confessional boxes with faces close to the
little grated windows, whispering deeds of misdoing to the confessor
within and awaiting the father's words of penance or of absolution. We
followed a crowd of Italians who were going into a chapel at the side
where preparations were being made for a special service. There being no
pews or sittings in the chapel, but a few plain chairs for hire, we paid
the verger two cents for the use of a chair and waited. Wooden benches
were placed in line to form an aisle and a number of women and children
knelt at the benches, each holding a large unlighted candle.
A cardinal in a red robe came down the aisle, accompanied by a surpliced
acolyte bearing a cup of oil. As the cardinal passed each kneeling
person, he dipped his thumb into the oil and then, repeating a formula,
made a sign of the cross with his thumb on the worshiper's forehead. A
priest in black cassock and a chorister in white followed the cardinal,
the priest wiping the foreheads with a piece of cotton and the chorister
taking the candles which were handed to him as offerings to the church.
The doors of the magnificently adorned Cathedral were open to rich and
poor alike; but the poor were in the majority, and among them appeared
such cases of slovenly poverty as we had not seen elsewhere, not even in
Jerusalem or Constantinople, for in the Moslem cities fountains were at
the gates of the mosques and no worshiper entered the sacred edifice
with soiled hands or feet. Three cases of slovenliness we noted
particularly. A woman of middle age, with tangled hair, torn, untidy
dress and soiled, stockingless feet partially covered by dilapidated
slippers, was violating the rules of the church by sidling up to
strangers and stealthily begging within the building; a boy, probably
sixteen years of age, hatless, shoeless, coatless, with pantaloons in
need of patches and body in need of soap, stood gazing curiously at the
ceremony; and a man whose whole attire consisted of a ragged shirt and
cotton trousers, with marks of grime on hands, neck, and face, leaned
carelessly against a pillar with bare feet thrust forward. But these
were extreme and exceptional cases of untidiness, the worshipers
generally being neatly clad and careful of their personal appearance.
The military band was playing on a platform when we visited the park and
the paths and the grass plats were filled with people, many standing and
a few seated on chairs. Noticing some unoccupied chairs, we sat down to
listen to the music and watch the life and movement of a Neapolitan
crowd. We had scarcely taken our places when a woman with a badge and a
bag approached, demanding ten centessimi for each seat. "Gratia!" she
said when paid, and "Gratia!" we responded, grateful for a comfortable
resting place.
"I thought, before we started on this trip, that sight-seeing prolonged
day after day might become monotonous and that I might lose interest,"
remarked one of the group seated on the chairs, "but, on the contrary, I
find continual variety. Our drive through the beautiful residence
section and suburbs on the heights this morning was charming, and the
extensive landscape and marine view from the Convent of Camaldoli is
unsurpassed, save by the view from Mustapha Superieur. Each place
visited has differed so thoroughly from all the others that my interest
is as intense now as when we landed at fascinating Funchal."
"In each city I am compelled to replenish my stock of films; I find so
many pleasing subjects," replied an artist who always had his camera
with him. "Did you see those women on the hillside road at Capri
carrying wine kegs on their heads? They posed for me to take a picture
of the group. It was not necessary to tell them to look pleasant; every
face wore a smile. I am sorry that my kodak does not reproduce colors.
The dresses of the women, though worn and faded, were very picturesque
in their combinations of scarlets, blues, and yellows."
"And I regret that cameras cannot reproduce the beautiful azure and
silver tints of the interior of the Blue Grotto just as we saw it
yesterday," said one of the ladies who was collecting photographs and
postal cards. "I want a good picture of the Grotto Azzurra but I cannot
find one. Those that are offered for sale are such poor imitations."
After the concert was over, we entered the salt water aquarium of
Naples, which is famous throughout Europe as the finest and largest
ichthyological collection in the world. In the glass tanks curious sea
fish darted through the water, grotesque sea monsters crawled over the
pebbles, and transparent jelly fish floated slowly; pink and white sea
anemones, like a bed of flowers, opened and closed, and diminutive sea
animals, almost invisible, spread thread-like tentacles; sponges and
coral grew upon the rocks, and mollusks showed by their movements that
they had life.
One evening we drove to the suburban village of Posilipo and from the
cliffs at that place saw the sun descend in glory, a golden ball
dropping into a radiant sea. While we were returning, a picturesque
beggar with a crooked stick and one string across it trotted alongside
our carriage, trying to convince us that he was a musician and his music
worth a penny. At dusk, an Italian boy ran alongside the carriage,
opened and lit the carriage lamps while the horse was moving at a rapid
gait, and asked for payment.
Naples is a city of striking contrasts. It was interesting to study
them. We drove over well paved streets, admiring marble palaces, great
hotels, and beautiful homes; but with feelings very different from
admiration we walked through narrow, filthy thoroughfares, densely
populated, where networks of clothes lines with garments of all colors
hung overhead. We saw high-spirited horses and superb carriages in the
avenues and parks, and teams of handsome cream-colored oxen in the
suburbs: but we saw also in the highways, small, rough-coated donkeys
overburdened with panniers of fruit; tall, bony horses mismatched with
diminutive donkeys; incongruous teams composed of a cow and a donkey,
or a large ox and a small cow; and a team even more grotesquely made up
of a horse, a cow, and a donkey. We saw the elite of the city elegantly
dressed in the latest fashion promenading in the shopping districts; but
on the sidewalks of the tenement district we saw slovenly barefooted
women washing clothes, cooking maccaroni, scrubbing children in a tub,
and combing children's hair with fine combs, regardless of our curious
gaze. Here, too, we saw boys, apparently eight or ten years of age,
playing in the streets with no other clothing than a shirt reaching to
the knees, and women peddlers of mineral water dressed in ragged red
blouses and blue skirts, who, with disordered hair and stockingless,
slipshod feet, shuffled by pushing hand-carts filled with earthen jugs.
[Illustration: PEASANT GIRLS THEIR BURDENS BEAR.]
On the avenues street peddlers besought us to purchase canes, matches,
coral beads, and souvenirs cut out of lava, but asked prices four or
five times their actual value. On the narrow streets dealers in cooked
viands for the home trade did an active business at low prices, but did
not think it worth while to offer us the hot potatoes, maccaroni, fried
fish, and stewed meats which they prepared on little sidewalk stoves.
[Illustration: AMALFI, WHERE THE WAVES AND MOUNTAINS MEET.]
The trip from Naples to Pompeii was made by rail in less than an hour.
At the gates of the enclosure we each paid an admission fee of two lire,
or forty cents, and official guides were assigned to conduct the party
through the streets of the excavated city.
"About one hundred and fifty years ago," explained the guide, "a farmer
ploughed up some objects of art in this locality. The government,
hearing of the discovery, ordered investigation to be made. Removal of
the soil disclosed a house and furniture and articles of value. The
excavations, carried on irregularly for a century, then continued
regularly but slowly for the past fifty years and still in progress,
revealed the ancient city that had been smothered in ashes and buried
from sight for eighteen hundred years. The wooden roofs, crushed in by
the weight above them, had crumbled into dust, but the walls and
columns, the altars and statues, the fountains and baths, the paved
streets and mosaic pavements, and the frescoes on the walls had been
preserved by the covering of ashes, and were in almost as good condition
as when deserted by the terror-stricken inhabitants. All articles of
value, as soon as found by the excavators, were carried away to the
museums and carefully preserved; but the uncovered walls were left
exposed to the weather, and, as you will see, are badly damaged and
defaced. The government for the past few years, however, has been
protecting the newly excavated buildings by enclosing and roofing them
over, and in these we shall find the beautiful Pompeian red and blue
colors and the dainty frescoes well preserved on the walls."
[Illustration: BEARING PANNIERS OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES.]
This ancient city of probably only twenty-five thousand inhabitants had
improvements that we now designate as modern. The streets, just wide
enough for one wagon track with narrow footways on each side, were paved
with square flat stones in which the chariots had cut deep wheel ruts.
The public baths had separate rooms for men and women, exercise courts,
sweating rooms, furnace heat, hot baths, cold baths, capacious marble
plunge tanks, and cooling rooms in which the bathers, cleansed, oiled,
and perfumed, could rest after the bath. The water supply was
distributed through the city in the same manner as in our own cities.
Lead water pipes conducted the water through streets and into buildings.
Bronze stopcocks governed the fountains, and bronze inlets and outlets
regulated the supply at the marble baths.
"The Pompeian plumbers used good material and did good work," commented
a manufacturer after examining the plumbing.
"If I could produce paints that would endure for centuries, and have
them laid on as the Pompeian artists applied them, my fortune would soon
be made," remarked another, who had been impressed particularly by the
brightness of the red and blue on the walls of the House of Sallust.
"But," he added, "the secret of making paint that will endure the
ravages of time has been lost."
In a baker's shop we saw four small stone mills in which grain had been
converted to flour by hand power, the stones having been revolved by
means of long wooden handles. Near the mills was an oven similar to
those of the present time.
"In this oven a number of loaves of bread were found," said the guide.
"Yes," answered one of our party, "we saw fourteen loaves in the Museum
of Naples yesterday and were told that it was the oldest bread in
existence. The loaves were well preserved in form but were as black as
charcoal."
[Illustration: MADE A PICTURE THAT PLEASED THE ARTIST.]
Our interest in Pompeii was heightened by our previously having visited
the Naples Museum, where a multitude of articles found during the
excavations were on exhibition. There we had examined hundreds of
objects of art, marble statues, bronze statues, mosaics, vases,
frescoes, and paintings; we had seen thousands of ornaments for personal
adornment, necklaces, cameos, bracelets, rings, chains, and toilet
accessories and had looked at numberless articles for household use,
such as stoves, lamps, dishes, and kitchen utensils. Even food was not
lacking in the exhibition, being represented by olives in a jar, oil in
bottles, charred walnuts, almonds, figs, wheat, and eggs. These things,
abandoned by the fugitives in their wild flight, helped us to imagine
the taste and manner of living of the Pompeians before the destruction
of their city.
"This is the Amphitheatre," said the guide, as we assembled around him
in the arena of a large structure. "Here fights between wild beasts,
gladiatorial combats, and other great spectacles took place. Underneath
the seats on one side are the dens where the lions and tigers were kept
in a starving condition to make them ferocious, and underneath on the
other side are the dungeons where prisoners were confined until forced
into the arena to meet the wild beasts. On the hill nearby are the
barracks where the gladiators lived and trained for combats." An
announcement of an oldtime entertainment remains inscribed on one of the
stone walls. It reads as follows:
Twenty pairs of gladiators, at the expense of Decimus, a priest,
and ten pairs of gladiators, at the expense of Lucretius, will
fight at Pompeii on the eleventh of April. There will be a complete
hunting scene, and the awnings will be spread.
Another inscription on the wall stated:
On the dedication of the baths, at the expense of Maius, there will
be a hunt, athletic sports, showering of perfumes, etc., at the
Amphitheatre.
"There was also a Tragic Theatre in Pompeii," continued the guide. "It
was reserved for dramatic performances. The stone tiers seated an
audience of five thousand. The Amphitheatre and the Tragic were open to
the sky, but both were provided with awnings that could be spread above
the seats to protect the people from the sun."
[Illustration: I. LATELY EXCAVATED ARE CAREFULLY PROTECTED.]
[Illustration: II. PUBLIC BATHS WITH ARCADES.]
Almost all of us had read Bulwer-Lytton's novel, "The Last Days of
Pompeii," and were familiar with his vivid description of the fearful
eruption of Vesuvius which overwhelmed the city in the year A.D.
79,--the darkness, the terror of the people, the hasty flight, the roar
of explosions, the volcanic lightnings, the scorching ashes, the
sulphurous fumes, and the hot rain. Very interesting to us were the
places described by Bulwer in his novel; the dwelling of the magistrate
Pansa, the villa of the wealthy Diomede where eighteen skeletons
surrounded by provisions and jewels had been found, the house of the
poet Glaucus whose threshold was guarded by the mosaic of a chained dog
with the now well known motto 'Cave Canem' or 'Beware of the Dog.' Most
interesting, perhaps, was the Temple of Isis, in which the most exciting
incidents of Bulwer's novel took place. There the guide showed us the
altar, the well, the secret stairway, the platform from which the oracle
spoke, and the spot where the skeleton of the priest with an ax was
found.
"Broken columns and ruined walls are all that remain of the grandeur of
the Forum," explained the guide as he led the way through a triumphal
arch into a large area. "These extensive marble-paved floors were once
decorated with statues of the illustrious men of Pompeii."
"The Forum was a bustling place," he continued, as we stood in the
centre of the area. "In the open court the people met to exchange
opinions and obtain the news. On the porticoes the money changers made
loans and the brokers sold real estate and grain. It was the political
center of the city. Here the magistrates administered justice. Here
the populace met with joyful acclamations to raise a favorite to power,
and here, too, angry mobs gathered to compel an offending ruler to
vacate his office. It was the religious centre as well; for adjoining
the Forum are the ruins of the Temple of Mercury, the Temple of Venus,
the Temple of Jupiter, and the Temple of Augustus."
[Illustration: MOST INTERESTING, PERHAPS, IS THE TEMPLE OF ISIS.]
When we were ready to leave Pompeii, after a tramp through other streets
and a visit to the Museum, the subject of giving a fee to the guide was
considered. At the gate when entering we had read a notice stating that
guides furnished by the government were not permitted to accept fees
from visitors. The guide assigned to us, however, had been very obliging
and had given much interesting information. Appreciating this we slipped
into his hand secretly at parting a token of our good will. "Gratia!
Gratia!" very heartily he responded, assuring us that our gift, the
forbidden, was acceptable.
After returning from Pompeii to our steamship we found that although the
evening hours had arrived, the harbor was still a scene of animation.
Scores of Italian stevedores were carrying baskets of coal on their
shoulders from barges into the bunkers of the Moltke. Near by other
laborers were hoisting crates of lemons and oranges and lowering them
into the hold of an English steamer. A little rowboat with a stove on
board was running a brisk restaurant business, selling bread, coffee,
fried eggs, fried potatoes, and fried fish to boatmen and laborers, who
managed to devour the viands without assistance of plate, knife, or
fork.
Alongside our steamer a number of boys in a rowboat were making a
distracting noise with tin pans and crude instruments, looking up in the
hope that some one would pay them for creating a disturbance. In another
boat, gaily attired Neapolitan musicians played and sang popular airs in
a pleasing way that drew coins from the pockets of the hearers. At the
close of each piece of music one of the women held a spread umbrella
upside down to catch the coppers that were dropped into it from the deck
thirty feet above.
"The daylight ends too soon," regretfully observed one of our party, an
artist of considerable reputation, who, seated in his favorite nook near
the stern, was endeavoring to complete his color notes and sketches of
the picturesque scenes before the darkness hid them from view. "But the
sky above the mountain is reddening and the glow of Vesuvius will give
me work for to-night."