number and in interest. Two tablets in mosaic especially detain us, from
their representation of theatrical subjects. One of these shows the
manager surrounded by several of his actors, to whom he dispenses the
various implements of their art. At his feet, in a basket, lie the comic
and tragic masks. Of the personages around him, one is pulling on his
garment, another is trying the double tubes of a wind instrument. The
second mosaic presents a group of three closely-draped figures. Actor is
written on their faces, though we know not the scene they enact. The
bronzes are numerous and admirable. Miniature art seems to have been
held in great esteem among the Pompeians. Most of these figures are of
small size, and suggest a florid and detailed style of adornment. Among
other objects, we are shown the semicircular model of a Pompeian bath,
on which are arranged the ornaments and water-fixtures just as they were
found. One of these imitates a rampant lion standing on his hind legs,
and delivering water from his mouth; another a serpent nearly upright.
In the upper story of the Museum we see whole rooms floored with mosaic
pavements removed entire from houses in Pompeii. The patterns are mostly
in black and white, but of an endless variety. The contents of these
rooms match well in interest with their pavements. Here, in glass cases,
are carefully ranged and presented the tools and implements of Pompeian
life; the loaves that never left the baker's shop, still fresh and puffy
in outline, although calcined in substance; the jewels and silver
vessels of the wealthy, the painter's colors, the workman's needles and
thread: baths and braziers, armor in bronze and in iron, scarcely more
barbaric than that of the middle ages; helmets, with clumsy metal
network guarding the spaces for the eyes; spades, cooking utensils in
great variety, fruits and provisions as various. Among the bronze
utensils is a pretty and economical arrangement which furnishes at once
hot water, a fire of coals to heat the room, with the convenience of
performing at the same time the solemn rites of cookery. Hot water, both
for bathing and drinking, seems to have been a great desideratum with
the Pompeians. The stone cameos and engraved gems are shown in rows
under glass cases. This Museum contains a well-known tazza, or flat cup,
of onyx entire, elaborately carved in cameo on either side. It also
possesses a vase of double glass, of which the outer or white layer has
been cut, like a cameo, into the most delicate and elaborate designs.
The latter is an object of unique interest and value, as is shown by
the magnificence with which it has been mounted on a base of solid
silver, the whole being placed under glass.
The Cumaean collection is less rich in objects of interest than the
Pompeian. Its treasures are mostly Etruscan. It possesses many vases,
Etruscan and Greek, many rude Etruscan sculptures, with household
articles of various descriptions. It occupies a separate set of rooms,
and is the gift of the Prince of Carignano.
Among the Pompeian remains we forgot to mention a mosaic tablet
representing a cock-fight. One cock already bleeds and droops; above him
the figure of his genius turns desponding away. The genius of the
victorious cock, on the contrary, bears a crown and palm. The design is
worthy of the Island of Cuba at the present day.
The frescos brought and transferred from Pompeii are beautiful and
interesting. One of them shows thirteen dancing figures, all of which
are frequently copied. Many inscriptions in marble are also preserved,
but to decipher them would ask much time. We were interested in a small
painted model of a Pompeian dwelling, called the House of the Poet. It
shows the quadriform arrangement of the dark chambers around the open
courts, of which one is the _atrium_, one the _peristylium_. The
window-panes of the house of Diomed are shown,--not of glass, but talc,
and only translucent. Windows, however, were rare in Pompeii. Perhaps
the most pathetic relic that we observe is the skull of the sentinel in
his helmet, as it was found.
We have here given only the most hurried and imperfect indication of the
mines of wealth which this institution offers to the student of art and
of history. A detailed account of its contents will be found in the
valuable but prosaic Murray, and would here be superfluous. Its
guardians, the custodi, are civil, and are not allowed to ask or receive
any compensation from visitors. Several of them, nevertheless, manage to
suggest that they would be glad to wait on you at your hotel, with
books, objects of antiquity, and other small merchandise, which you
hurriedly decline. You will be fortunate to get out of Naples in any
state short of utter bankruptcy. How you are ever to get home to
America, with temptations and expenses multiplying so frightfully upon
you, sometimes threatens to become a serious question.
NAPLES--EXCURSIONS.
You have been two days in Naples, the hotel expenses and temptations of
the street eating into your little capital. For value received your
intellects have nothing to show. Your eyes and ears have been full, your
brain passive and empty. You rouse yourself, and determine upon an
investment. To learn something, you must spend something. These
cherished napoleons must decrease, and you must, if possible, increase.
The first attempt is scarcely a success. Having heard marvels of the
conventual church of San Martino, formerly belonging to the Cistercian
brotherhood, you consult the porter of the hotel, and engage, for seven
francs, a carriage to transport you thither. The drive is one immense
climb under the heat of the afternoon sun. When you have gained the
difficult ascent, your driver coolly informs you that the church is
always closed at four P. M., the present time being 5.30. "Why did you
not tell me so?" is the natural but useless question. "Because I could
not in that case have got seven francs from you," would be the real
answer. The driver shrugs his shoulders, and expects a scolding, which
you are too indignant to give.
But you are not to be defeated in this way. A second expedition is
planned and executed. To the gates of Pompeii you fly, partly by steam,
and partly by horse-aid. You alight from your cloud of dust, demand a
guide. "Yes; you can have the guide by paying also for the litter. This
being Sunday, the entrance is free, and the government supplies no
guide. You must have the _portantina_, or blunder about alone." The
litter, with its pink gingham frill and cushion, looks hateful to you.
You remember it twenty-three years ago with dislike. The sun of noon is
hot upon you. The men are unpersuadable. Red and fierce as lava, you
storm through the deserted streets of the ancient capital of seaside
luxury. Like the lava, you soon cool, as to your temper--the rest of you
continuing at 120 Fahrenheit. There are two of your party: one finds the
litter convenient; the other also gives way, and you ride and tie, as
the saying is, in very amicable style, and encourage the guide to tell
you all he knows; but he, alas! has cropped but the very top of the
clover. The fragments of history which he is able to give you, measure
only his own ignorance and yours.
"Here is the Forum in which the Balbo statues were found. At the upper
end were the court and seat of justice,--for a figure was found there
bearing a balance; underneath were the prisons." Ah, the broken columns!
Stately did they stand around the mounted statues, that expected to ride
into perpetual fame on their marble horses--now most famous because so
long forgotten. "Wherever four streets met, madam, stood a fountain. The
Exchange stood also in the Forum. Here is the street of abundance, in
which was found a marble bust bearing a horn of plenty. Here is the
Temple of Isis. By this secret staircase the priest ascended and stood
unseen behind the goddess, making the sounds which she was supposed to
utter. Here was the bakery; behold the ovens. This was found filled with
newly baked loaves. [Yes; for I myself beheld them in the Museum at
Naples.] Ah, madam! the baths, with hot water and cold, and vapor. In
those niches running around the wall were placed the vases with
unguents. Here is the House of the Poet; here that of the Faun. See the
frescos. What forms! what colors! Here is a newly excavated house, large
and richly appointed. Each of these marble columns surrounding the inner
court contains a leaden water-pipe with a faucet, so that from all at
once water might flow to cool the extreme heats of summer. Here still
stand two fine dragons carved in white marble, which must formerly have
supported a marble slab. See what a garden this house had! What a
fish-pond! Climb this stair, madam, if you would see the theatre. This
larger one was for day performances. Yonder was the stage. There are
still the grooves for the scenes to slide in. There was the orchestra
[mostly flutes and fiddles]. Here sat the nobles, here the citizens,
here the plebeians. From this eminence you can look over into the
smaller theatre close at hand, in which night performances were given."
And the stately dames, with those jewels which you saw stored at the
Museo, and dressed and undressed like the frescos we have seen to-day,
sat on their cushioned benches, and wafted their perfumes far and wide.
Here was the house of Diomed, rich and very extensive. The skeleton of
Diomed (as is supposed) was found at the garden gate, with the key of
the house and a purse of money. In one of the subterranean rooms is
shown the impression of his wife's figure, merely a darker mark on a
dark wall. Seventeen similar impressions were found. I think it is in
this house that the walls of one of the rooms have an under-coating of
lead to keep the moisture from the frescos, which are still brilliant.
The _luxe_ of fountains was, as is known, great and universal in
Pompeii, and the arrangement of its leaden conduits is ample and
skilful. Besides the well-known frescos, with their airy figures and
brilliant coloring, we are shown a bath, whose vaulted roof is adorned
with stucco reliefs, arranged in small medallions, octagons alternating
with squares.
Presently we come to the street of tombs. Among these I best remember
that which bears the inscription, "_Diomede, sibi suis_." At the upper
end of this street we find a semicircular seat of stone, for the
accommodation of the guard. Close by this was found the skeleton of the
sentinel in armor which we saw in the Museum at Naples. In the prison
were found the iron stocks, with at least one skeleton in them; others
chained in divers ways. A feature new to me is that of various
diminutive temples, with roofs roundly or sharply arched, devoted to the
household gods. These usually stand upon an elevated projection, and
might measure three feet in height and four in depth. The guide pointed
out to us some small, square windows, which are simply open squares in
the masonry, defended by iron gratings, deeply rusted. They are not
numerous. Our guide suggests that there may have been a tax upon
windows, accounting for their rare occurrence. One he shows us still
nearly entire, a narrow slit, measuring, perhaps, eight inches by three,
with a slab of talc in place of glass.
And presently we come to a small museum, whose contents are much the
same in kind with the household remains seen by us in the Museum at
Naples. And farther on is a room in which we are shown the _quattro
morti_--the four dead bodies whose impress on the hardened cinders which
surrounded them has been so ingeniously utilized. It is known that the
masses of cinder within which these bodies had slowly mouldered were
filled with liquid plaster, and the forms of the bodies themselves,
writhing in their last agonies, were thus obtained. One of these
figures--that of a young woman--is full of pathetic expression. She
lies nearly on her face, her hand near her eyes, as if weeping. Her
back, entirely exposed, has the fresh and smooth outline of youth. The
forms of two elder women and one man complete the sad gallery. Of these
women one wears upon her finger a silver ring, the plaster having just
fitted within it. This figure and that of the man are both swollen,
probably from the decomposition that took place before the crust of
ashes hardened around them into the rigid mould which to-day gives us
their outlines.
These four plaster ghosts were the last sights seen by us in Pompeii.
For by this time we had walked and ridden three hours, and those three
the most fervent of the day, beginning soon after noon. The heat was
cruel and intense, but we had not given ourselves time to think of it.
The umbrella and _portantina_ helped us as they could, but the feeling
that the work had to be done now or never helped us most of all. Our
vexation against our guides had long ago cooled into a quiet good will.
Relinquishing the fiery journey, which might have been prolonged some
hours further, we paid the rather heavy fee. The second carrier of the
litter demanded a few extra pence, reminding us that at our first
arrival he had brushed the dust from our dresses with a zeal which then
appeared mysterious, but whose object was now clear. Parting from these,
we passed into the little inn, quite bare and dirty, whose coolness
seemed delicious. We here ordered an afternoon _dejeuner_, and ate,
drank, and rested.
THE CAPUCHIN.
While we waited for our dinner, a Capuchin at another table enjoyed a
moderate repast. Bologna sausage, cheese, fruit, and wine of two sorts
contented him. His robust countenance beamed with health, his eyes were
intelligent. This was one of the personalities of which the little shown
makes one desirous to know more. His refreshment consumed and paid for,
he began a rambling conversation with the _garcon_ who attended us, as
well as with the proprietor of the _locanda_ in which we were. Capuchin
and Garcon mutually deplored the poverty of the poor in Naples. Capuchin
showed two blue silk handkerchiefs which he had been forced to purchase,
for compassion, of a poor woman. Both obviously considered the new state
of things as partly accountable for this poverty, which is, on the
contrary, as old as the monastic orders. The Capuchin had been preaching
Lenten sermons in Greece, and had been well received. Garcon rejoined
that there were good Catholics in Greece, agreeing harmoniously with the
man in brown. But at this juncture another face looks in at the door.
"That is the man who plagues me to give him lucky numbers for play,"
says the _frate_. Here I can keep out of the company no longer. "What
does he play at--cards or dice?" I ask. "Neither, madam; that man ruins
himself with playing at the lottery." Capuchin continues: "If I had the
gift of fortunate numbers, I would not withhold them. I should wish to
benefit my fellow-creatures in this way, if I were able to do so. But I
have it not, this gift of prophecy." And if you had it, thought I, I am
not so sure of the ultimate benefit of gambling to your
fellow-creatures, even were they to win, instead of losing.
The Capuchin and I, however, talk of other things--of monasteries, and
rich libraries, closed to women. "So, father, you consider us the allies
of the devil." "No, signora; the inhibition is mutual: we may not enter
any nunnery." The _padrone_ of the inn here breaks in with the robust
suggestion that these restrictions ought to be removed, and that monks
and nuns should have liberty to visit each the establishments of the
other. While this talk proceeds, I occasionally glance into the smoky
depths of the kitchen opposite, where a mysterious figure, in whose
cleanliness I desire to believe, wafts a frying-pan across a dull fire,
which he stimulates by fanning with a turkey's wing. After each of his
gymnastics, a dish is brought out, and set upon our table--first fish,
then omelet, then cutlet; and we discover that the Capuchin and
ourselves have a mutual friend at Fuligno, the good, intelligent,
accomplished Count ----, in whose praises each of us is eloquent. We
part, exchanging names and addresses. Our Pompeian guide urges us to
return and make the ascent of Vesuvius under his care. But we depart
untrammelled. Every one was satisfied with us except the cripple who
rolled himself in the dust, and the weird, white-haired women with
spindles, who followed us shrieking for a largess. We gave nothing, and
they commented upon us with a gravity of moral reprobation quite fit to
make one's hair stand on end, even with New England versus beggar behind
one. But the train came, and mercifully took us away; and whether in not
giving we did well or ill, is a point upon which theorists will not
agree; so we may be pardoned for giving ourselves the benefit of a
doubt.
After Pompeii a little good fortune awaited us. As before said, we had
encountered an American of the right sort,--kindly, sincere, and of
adequate education. Joining forces with him, we no longer shivered
before the hackman, nor shrank from the _valet de place_. We at once
engaged the latter functionary, ordered the _remise_ of the hotel to
wait for us, and started upon two days of eager but weary sight-seeing.
Our first joint act was to scale again the height of San Martino, this
time to enter the church and convent, and view their boasted riches. A
pleasant court, with a well in the centre of it; a church whose chapels
and altars were gorgeous with lapis lazuli, jasper, agate, and all
precious marbles; a row of seats in wooden mosaic, executed by a monk of
the Cistercian order, vowed to silence; cloisters as spacious and
luxurious as can well be imagined; a great array of relics in golden
boxes, shielded from dust and common sight by rich curtains of heavy
silk and gold--this is all of the establishment that remains in our
recollection. The present government has dismissed the saintly idlers of
the monasteries, saying, perhaps, in the style of Henry VIII., "Go
plough, you drones, go plough." But in what field and for what wages
they henceforth labor is not known to me.
Hence to the Grotto of Siana, half a mile long, and some eight feet
wide. The chill of this long, damp passage, in contrast with the high
temperature from which we entered it, so alarmed us that we turned back
at half the distance, and gave up seeing the den or cave that lay
beyond. At Pozzuoli we view Caligula's Bridge, of which but a few large
stones remain: the guide points out the place at which Paul and Peter
landed. Here are the ruins of a fine amphitheatre. The underground
arrangements still show us the pits in which the wild beasts and the
gladiators were kept. Square openings at the top ventilated each of
these, and a long, open space in the middle separated the cells of the
beasts from those of the gladiators. On public occasions all of these
openings were closed by heavy plates of metal, so as to present the
solid surface desired for the combats.
"Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!"
In this neighborhood we visited what is left of the temple of Jupiter
Serapis. The salt water formerly covered its columns to such a height as
to corrode them badly. The smell caused by the evaporation of the
sea-water in the hot sun was so offensive that the government found it
necessary to apply a thorough drain. These time and tide worn marbles
were of the choicest kinds--African marble, _rosso antico_, and so on.
Their former beauty little avails them now. We drive further to the
cavern with the stratum of carbonic acid gas, and see the dog
victimized, which cruel folly costs us two francs. And then we visit
the sulphur vapor baths, whose fiery, volcanic breath frightens us.
These are near the Lake of Agnano, an ancient volcanic crater. In its
neighborhood are the royal game preserves, in which fratricidal V. E.
hunts and slays the wild boar. Returning, we climb to Virgil's tomb, a
small, empty enclosure, with a stone and inscription dating from 1840.
"Cecini pascua, rura, duces,"
says the poet, through his commemorator. Item, this steep journey under
a scorching sun did not pay very well. Yet, having ascended the fiery
stair, and stood in the small, dark enclosure, and read the tolerable
inscription, I felt that I had done what I could to honor the great
Mantuan: so, with a good conscience, I returned through cool,
ill-smelling Posilippo, to the hotel, dinner, and the afternoon
meditation.
BAJA.
The excursion to Baja called us up early in the morning. With a tender
hush, a mysterious remembrance of our weaker and still sleeping
brethren, we stole through the hotel, swallowed coffee, and issued forth
with carriage and _valet de place_ for a day's campaigning. As the
functionary just mentioned had invented a hitherto unpatented language,
supposed by him to present some points of advantage over the Queen's
English, I will here, _en passant_, serve up a brief sample, for the
study of those inclined to the practical pursuit of linguistics.
"Zat is ze leg Agnano [lake of.] In vinter he is full of vile dog [wild
duck]." Of Lake Avernus: "Zis was de helty [hell]." Of the ruins of the
amphitheatre at Pozzuoli: "Ruin by de barbions [barbarians]. Zey brok
him in piece and pushed him down. Zar is Caligole's [Caligula's] Bridge.
Tis de Sibyl's Cave, where she gib de ragle [oracle]. Temple Diana,
temple Neptune, ze god of ze sea and ze god of ze land." Here was a
mythological _apercu_ thrown in. This individual rarely condescended to
speak his native language--Italian. In ours, it required no little
adjustment of the perceptive faculties to meet his views.
Passing through Posilippo, we come first to a piece of ground which
bears the form of an amphitheatre, although the whole structure, if it
exist at all, is thickly overgrown with trees and shrubs. A rustic
proprietor cultivates the vine here, but cannot pass the nights during
July, August, and September, on account of the bad air. The wines, white
and red, are nevertheless excellent. The right of excavation here vests
in a Frenchman, who has purchased the same.
Our next point of exploration is the Temple of Mercury, at Baja--a
circular building, with fine columns partly overthrown. Here exists a
perfect whispering gallery, for at a certain spot in the wall the
slightest utterance is instantly heard at the point directly opposite.
Here two forlorn women, with a tambourine and without costume, dance a
joyless _tarantella_, which costs us a franc. They urge us, also, to buy
sea-shells, and small fragments of mosaic, together with skeletons of
the sea-horse, a queer little fish, some two inches long. After this, we
are shown some _columbaria_, and a bath with stucco reliefs. Adjacent is
the well preserved ruin of a large bathing establishment. Besides the
baths, we here find places for reclining, where vapor baths were
probably enjoyed.
Now come Nero's prisons, gloomy, under-ground galleries, in which he
kept his slaves. Torches here became necessary. These galleries,
destitute of daylight, were quite extensive, frequently crossing each
other at right angles. And then we visited the Piscina Mirabilis, an
immense reservoir which formerly supplied the Roman fleet at Marina with
fresh water. Its tall columns, still entire, are deeply corroded by
water. This was a work of surprising extent and finish. Thereafter,
mindful of Murder considered as a Fine Art, we gave some heed to the
whereabouts of Agrippina's villa, and inquired concerning those
matricidal attempts of her son, which were finally crowned with so
entire a success. The villa of Hortensius, in this neighborhood, lies
chiefly under water, the level of the ground having changed. Perhaps
this villa was anciently built on ground reclaimed from the sea, as
Horace says,--
"Marisque Baiis obstrepentis urges
Summovere litora. Parum locuples continente ripa."