whose locality is, to a certain extent, shrouded in obscurity, were
boldly designated by various symbols cut upon the stones of the
sidewalks and upon the lintels of the doors. Many of these objects
have been preserved, and are now in the Museum at Naples; they have
been placed in apartments by themselves, where any curious visitor may
examine them; and those who are curious in such matters I respectfully
refer to the Museum. The impressions on the sidewalks and over the
doors remain as they were, and may be examined by any tourist who is
interested in their study.
[Sidenote: NEW EXCAVATIONS.]
In the autumn of 1876, new excavations have been commenced in Pompeii,
and judge of the astonishment of the excavators, when, while digging
for unknown treasures, they come to a second city beneath the one
known to the reader. It has been buried there perhaps centuries before
New Pompeii was built, under lava and sulphurous matter, and the
architects, probably not knowing of the fact, erected their houses on
top of those of their forefathers. It almost seems that Art, in the
first-buried city, was far more advanced than in the latter. Marvels
of art and architecture have been found, and when we enter one of
those splendid edifices, and admire its paintings and statuary, we are
struck with admiration for the great accomplishments of men who lived
centuries before the birth of Christ.
Let us enter one of these houses, and see how they are built, and at
the same time admire the freschi, paintings, and statuary which adorn
the graceful abode of the ancients.
We enter the house by the _vestibulum_, or hall, and come into the
_atrium_, a large square, paved with marble, inlaid with the richest
mosaic of various colors. A row of pillars, adorned with the most
beautiful freschi, border it on the right and left, and between them
doors may be seen, which lead into bedrooms. The two last rooms on the
sides of this open space leave two small recesses, which are furnished
in the richest manner, and probably served as small reception-rooms.
In the center of this _atrium_ is an _impluvium_, or small reservoir,
generally provided with a fountain. Over this impluvium the roof
is open, and the sky may be seen. Going onward, right opposite the
entrance, we enter into the _tablinum_, which is not provided with a
door, and allows a free view over the _atrium_. This room probably
served for a large reception-room, as the most costly paintings and
the richest furniture are found here. On the right-hand side of this
room we find the _triclinium_, or dining-room, and on the other
side a cabinet of curiosities and gems is found. Between this last
apartment and the reception-room, a small passage is seen, which
probably served for the slaves, as they were not allowed to go through
the reception-room of their master. These rooms all open on the
peristyle, another oblong square, which has on either side a row of
sleeping-rooms, which probably were destined for the afternoon nap of
the old Romans. No beds are to be seen in them, only large, commodious
lounges.
[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF A HOUSE.]
At the end of this peristyle, which also is adorned with pillars and
statuary, and we may readily except flowers and plants of the richest
fragrance, we enter into a second eating-room, for the Romans had
one dining-hall for the winter, and one for the summer, or one for
ordinary, and another for festive occasions. A cabinet, dignified
with the name of library, is, in most cases, on the right-hand side
of this room, and in these apartments have been found many rolls
of papyrus (the reader will remember that the art of printing was
not invented before the fifteenth century after Christ), containing
manuscripts. On the other side was generally the kitchen. From this
last eating-room we enter into the _viridarium_, or garden. Modern
imagination can scarcely imagine the beauty and luxury of this cool
place of resort. Fountains of fragrant waters here filled the air with
sweet perfume, and we do not wonder that this place was devoted to a
rest after dinner, and the abode of love. The wall, which terminates
the garden and the house, is screened by the most beautiful plants,
which overshadow superb statuary, and we may imagine the beautiful
view which may be had from the _atrium_, through the different rooms
(as no doors interfere) to the green background, variegated by the
colors of flowers and the rich curtains, whose folds partly conceal
the _tablinum_ and the second dining-room.
The houses consist generally of one single floor, unless they are
very large, and we may easily see, from the plan here described, that
there is space enough for the comfort of all the inhabitants, and the
enjoyment of the numerous guests.
[Sidenote: ANCIENT PAINTINGS.]
If we wished to give a description of all the treasures found in
those ancient abodes, we might fill volumes, and therefore we will
only mention some of the most remarkable features of the recent
excavations. One picture has been exhumed at Pompeii, representing
the Three Graces, which Raphael, of course, could not possibly have
seen, yet the two compositions, although of different dimensions,
are precisely the same—in grouping, in form, in expression, and
even in charm. Now, not even a sketch of the picture was known
until long after the middle of the eighteenth century, while the
actual picture is a modern revelation altogether. Another fact was
discovered: Raphael, copying a statue, applied the very same process
to his painting which had been employed by his predecessors fifteen
centuries previously. Within the last few years, forty figures have
been redeemed from out these artistic tombs, which were evidently
details of an immense composition, intended for the adornment of a
theater or banqueting-hall, besides those, pictures of lightly-clad
figures, floating through the air, relieved against brown, black, and
crimson skies, with masses of carnation-cloud beneath their feet,
and gems hanging, so to speak, around them, enveloped in robes of
hyacinth, blue, green, and so on, the colors appearing to be laid
thickly on vitrified surfaces. It is a wonder to all artists how those
colors were laid on, not only as far as the magnificent coloring goes,
but even in what way it was done. We find painting in relief on the
smoothest surface of white marble; statuary even has been painted in
the most masterly way, and we see auburn and blonde hair painted in
a way which deceives even the sharpest observer; if we did not know
better, we would think that the statue had natural hair,—all the gloss
and the true tinge glowing through it is illustrated to absolute
perfection.
The Neapolitan chemists, of course, are very eager to unravel this
secret of their forefathers. Many a piece of painting has been
analyzed; many a fragment of painted beauty has been destroyed by
acids. However, till now, they did not succeed, and perhaps the art
will be for ever a mystery to us.
Upon the whole, as this antique city is thrown more and more open to
modern light, it proves to be the richest memorial extant of Grecian
genius, as represented by an art so different from, and still at the
same time so kindred to, sculpture. In most other classic centers,
while the form and the purity have survived, the color and the
splendor have faded; but here, as chamber after chamber, gallery after
gallery is opened, a new beauty of the past appears, freshly vivified
by the long-excluded light, and, as we are assured, labyrinths of
interest remain yet to be explored.
[Sidenote: AN ANCIENT WINE-SHOP.]
A wine-shop was lately found at Pompeii, roughly ornamented with
imitations of marbles in fresco. Over the podium of the front room
runs a band of stucco, with four groups or scenes painted on a white
ground. The first, on the left, represents a young man kissing a
woman dressed in yellow garments, with black shoes. She says, “Nolo,
cym myrta” * * “I don’t want to be kissed; go to your Myrtalis.”
The second scene represents, very likely, the same woman talking to
Myrtalis, who says, “Non mia, est.” They both point their fingers at a
third female, bringing in a great wine-jar and a glass. She says, “Qui
vol. symat oceane, veni. bibe,” an invitation to partake of the drink.
The third scene represents two gamblers seated, having the chess-board
on their knees, on which several latrunculi are seen disposed in rows
of different colors, yellow, black, white. The one on the left is
just throwing the dice, and says, “Exsi,” “I won.” The other answers,
pointing to the dice, “Non tria, duas est,” “You have got two, not
three.” Both fight in the fourth scene. One says, “Non it a me, tria,
ego, fvi,” “I did not throw two, but three. I have won.” The other
answers, “Orte fellator ego fvi,” “You ——! I have the game.” At this
moment the shop-keeper comes in, and pushing them outside, says,
“Itis, foras, riksatis,” “Go out to quarrel.”
XII.
VESUVIUS AND ITS ERUPTIONS.
THE GREAT ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS.—WHAT IT DID.—THREE CITIES WIPED
OUT.—LAVA AND ITS CHARACTER.—GOING TO THE MOUNTAIN.—SKIRMISHING
WITH GUIDES AND BEGGARS.—ARCHITECTURAL STEEDS.—A HORSE WITH A
HAND RAIL AROUND HIM.—COAT-HOOKS TO LET.—A MOTLEY CROWD.—HOW
AN AMERICAN WAS MOUNTED.—A NEW MODE OF SPURRING.—THE ROAD FROM
RESINA.—BURNING LAVA.—CROSSING THE LAVA BEDS.—CLIMBING ON
FOOT.—HAPS AND MISHAPS.—AN ENGLISHMAN’S ACCIDENT.—LIGHTING A
CIGAR AT THE CRATER.—SUFFOCATED BY SULPHUR FUMES.—DOWN AMONG THE
ASHES.—A LONG FALL AND SLIDE.—IN HERCULANEUM.—UNDERGROUND BENEATH
THE CITY.—“LOOK HERE.”—HOW THE CITY WAS DISCOVERED.—THE ERUPTION
OF 1872.—HORRIBLE SCENES.—EXTENT OF THE DESTRUCTION.
The eruption of Vesuvius that buried Pompeii destroyed Herculaneum at
the same time. Some historians contend that the occurrences were not
identical in point of time; but, after all, it makes little difference
to us whether the two cities were simultaneously destroyed or not. The
probability is, and it is pretty well settled, that while the ashes
and stones from the crater of Vesuvius were blown upon Pompeii, the
lava and mud flowed in the direction of Herculaneum, and covered it. A
third city, Stabiæ, was destroyed at the same time—a fact which is not
generally known. Castellamare, a well-known summer resort near Naples,
stands on the site of Stabiæ, whose excavations, not having promised
very well, were filled up soon after they were begun.
The lava which flows from a volcano during violent eruptions is a
composition of melted stone and oxide of iron. The stone is mainly
feldspar and hornblende. There is a good deal of sulphur also in the
lava when it rises in the volcano, but the most of it is thrown out in
the form of sulphurous fumes. The lava very much resembles the slag or
scoriæ flowing from an iron foundery, and, when suddenly cooled, it
assumes a glassy character. When it consolidates or cools, it forms
what are known as volcanic rocks. If the streams of lava are cooled
under no other pressure than that of the atmosphere, they assume a
porous appearance. Lava, cooled under the surface of the water is much
more compact, and where it is cooled under heavy masses of earth and
rock, it becomes quite solid.
[Sidenote: STARTING FOR VESUVIUS.]
Our party visited Herculaneum after making a journey to Vesuvius.
We wished to see the volcano first, and afterwards to explore the
city which it had destroyed. We rode out of Naples, after our usual
struggle with the hackman, and at Resina left our carriage to proceed
on horseback. About half the population gathered to see us off. A
staff, or heavy stick, is considered indispensable, and each of us
purchased one from the crowd of boys and men, whose wooden material
was sufficient for starting a small forest. I think our selection
was made from about two hundred and forty-seven sticks, which they
simultaneously presented in our faces, and with the demands of the
venders and the piteous appeals of forty or fifty beggars, we had, for
a few minutes, a concord of sweet Italian sounds.
As soon as we had bought the sticks we used them to clear away the
crowd, and as we were all young, reasonably powerful, and as indignant
as we were powerful, we made a clear circle around us in a very short
time. Then we bargained for animals on which to ride. I obtained a
horse, something like those with which the famous Mackerel Brigade was
equipped.
[Sidenote: REMARKABLE STEEDS.]
My horse had no hand rail along his deck, by which to cling on, though
his back-bone had a close resemblance to a rail with a great many
knots on it. He had an elegant selection of knobs sticking out all
over him, on which to hang superfluous coats and other garments. One
of my companions offered to charter two of the knobs as coat-hooks,
but immediately withdrew his offer when the horse which he was to ride
was brought out. Mine looked like a frame with a skin drawn over it,
but his resembled a frame without any skin. I suggested that, when he
got through the journey, he might sell out his horse to be used as a
lantern for a light-house, and that the ribs would give a peculiar
effect to the rays of light.
The third man of the party obtained a mule that had lost one ear, and
had his tail eaten off by the rats. The beast had a habit of going
backward faster than forward, and before we had gone a mile we asked
the guide to shift the saddle so that our friend’s face could be
turned towards the stern of his craft; but the guide insisted that
such a thing had never been done, and that the mule would be all right
if the man behind him would give an occasional prod with his stick.
The fourth man was mounted on a donkey, or mule, or horse; I cannot
say exactly what the animal was, but he seemed to be a mixture of the
three, with a small infusion of bull-dog and rhinoceros.
He had a hide that would turn a six-pound shot, and as for cudgelling,
he rather enjoyed it than otherwise. His rider had brought along a
pair of spurs, which he picked up a day or so before in Naples. He
proposed to show us his skill in mulemanship, but the mule was so
small, and his rider’s legs were so long, that the latter could not
reach the beast with his heels. I suggested a dodge which I had seen
in practice before. With the spurs on his heels my friend found his
feet too far aft, when he raised them, to do any good; I accordingly
suggested that, if he buckled the spurs on just below the knees, he
would find them to be of more advantage. He tried it with one spur,
which had a perceptible effect on the activity of the animal; but,
unfortunately, the activity was sidewise, or backwards, or in circles,
and not straight ahead. The beast either sidled along the track, or
else went in quick plunges, in a way that was very uncomfortable. Our
whole cavalcade, considered as an average, did not get along very
fast, and every fifteen minutes we had a grand kicking plunge all
round; but we were all sufficiently accustomed to the saddle to save
ourselves from being thrown. We made about three miles an hour each
along the route, or fifteen miles an hour for the five of us, which,
on the whole, was not to be considered bad.
The road from Resina winds along sometimes over the lava beds, and
sometimes on a carriage-way, constructed at great expense, but now
almost entirely useless. In some places the lava, though it had been
lying there several years, was quite warm, and there were cracks, from
which the heat steadily issued. Lava requires a long time for cooling,
and sometimes, where it is of great depth, it will not cool enough
for one to walk upon it within two years after it has flowed from the
mountain. We got along very well, assisted as we were by the native
loafers, who followed us, and occasionally took a turn at, or, rather,
with, our animal’s tails. With the mild beasts they got along very
well, and I think the animals would have had their tails twisted off
before breaking into a run; but the vicious beasts did not like the
arrangement, and they either quickened their pace, or let fly their
heels at the twisters.
[Sidenote: A SAFE HORSE.]
My horse had been warranted to me as a safe beast, and after we had
fairly started, I found that he was pretty nearly as safe as a dead
horse. When he began to climb the mountain, he really seemed to be
more dead than alive, and no persuasion, whether with my stick or
heels, could induce him to break into a run. When we reached the foot
of the cone, half a dozen boys offered to hold him; but I concluded he
had better hold the boys—one was quite sufficient to keep him quiet
while we made the upward journey.
The real work of climbing Vesuvius began at the foot of the cone. The
beasts that had brought us would not go beyond this point, and so we
dismounted. After refreshing ourselves with a bottle of villanous
wine, that tasted of sulphur, sewer-water, and other delightful
things, we removed our coats and started upward. There was a fresh
lot of loafers, who wanted to assist us. They had chairs strung upon
two poles, by which four men could carry a person to the summit. The
chairs were very good things in their way, but I preferred to walk,
and so did my companions. The path sloped at an angle of forty-five
degrees, and was made up of ashes and stones. The natives had arranged
the stones in such a way, that a person could step from one to another
without great difficulty, only that it happened that the stones were
so far apart that they occasionally needed a pretty wide step.
[Sidenote: SEDAN CHAIRS.]
Finding I would not be carried in a chair, the loafers importuned me
to be dragged up with a strap or rope. A stout fellow went in front of
me, and continually pressed me to seize a strap which he invitingly
pushed before my nose. I repeatedly told him that I did not want
it; but he stuck to me half way up, and then concluded I was a bad
bargain. As I would not accept his offer of assistance, he proposed
that I should give him half a franc to leave me. This I refused to
do, and told him he might go to the summit if he liked, and enjoy the
scenery; but he wanted no summit, unless he could earn something. He
started back down the mountain, and I had the pleasure of seeing him
miss his footing, and roll to the bottom. I learned afterwards that,
most unfortunately, he did not break his neck, and was not seriously
injured.
I have had a good deal of climbing in my life, but that was the worst
thirteen hundred feet I ever made at one time and in one piece. I
had to stop several times on the way up, in order to take breath,
and something with it to make the breath go down. One of my friends
suggested giving it up when near the summit; he said there had been a
great mistake in the statements of the guides and guide-books. I asked
him how it was, and he said, “We were informed that donkeys go only
to the foot of the cone, and not to the top; but it is my impression
that there are now four of the greatest donkeys in the known world
trying to reach the summit.” We forgave him for his joke, and, after a
mouthful of bad wine, he felt better, and proceeded.
For a good deal of the distance where we climbed it seemed as if we
slipped back one step for every two or three that we took forward, and
in some places we slipped back two steps where we went forward one.
An exhausted Englishman was just ahead of us, and his misery gave us
great comfort. One of the Italians had a leather strap fastened about
his own neck, and persuaded the Englishman to take hold of it. Another
Italian went before the first, and held on to a strap around the first
man’s waist. Another Italian went behind the Englishman, and pushed
him ahead, so that he managed to get along very fairly.
[Sidenote: AN ENGLISHMAN’S MISHAP.]
At a critical moment the rear Italian slipped; the Englishman slipped
next, and pulled down the two fellows in front. The result was, that
the whole four were doubled up in a heap, rolled over in the ashes,
and lost about fifty feet of distance before they could recover
themselves. For about a minute there was a confused mass of legs,
arms, and curses, some Italian and some English, which drew forth
shouts of laughter from the spectators. The enraged Britisher did not
like the journey, and gave up the attempt as a bad job. We were sorry
for this, as we expected him to be suffocated in the sulphur fumes at
the top, and afford us an opportunity to observe his agony.
When we reached the summit we sat down to rest, and take a little
wine. Then the guide led us around to the crater, where the fumes of
sulphur and clouds of steam were rising out of the volcano, and around
a great, yawning gulf, that was a complete mass of fire. We had to
hold our kerchiefs over our noses to save us from suffocation, and
even with this it was almost impossible to breathe. The crater, at
that time, was comparatively small,—at least, so they told me,—but it
seemed to me a very fair crater for all practical purposes. The flames
filled it from side to side. Their colors were white, purple, yellow,
and crimson, and they threw up clouds of smoke and steam. It seemed as
if the summit of the mountain was hollow, and might easily be broken
in. If a man should fall into the crater, his chance of escape would
be as good as if he was dropped into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean,
with a twenty ton anchor fastened to his neck.
It seemed to me as if there might be an eruption at any moment, and
I wanted to get away from the place; but the guide said there was
no danger, that the crater always filled up before an explosion,
and that they knew days and weeks beforehand when it would occur. To
convince me that there was no danger, he said that he had a family to
support, and wanted to live, though I could see no reason why, and he
had no hesitation in going close up to the edge. Although I had no
family to support, I knew a man who had one. I therefore concluded to
do as he did, and so crept up and looked over, holding the kerchief
all the while to my face.
[Sidenote: LOOKING INTO THE CRATER.]
A very brief gaze was sufficient for me, not because the sight was
less grand than I had expected, but because the fumes of sulphur were
so strong that I feared I might faint, and in falling, drop into that
confounded hole. There are various modes of death which I should
consider disreputable, and dropping into a volcano is one of them.