famous men of the olden time were accustomed to go to hear the
prophecies on which their fate depended, we found a larger crowd than
usual. A party of Americans were just emerging as we entered, and one
of them intimated that the place laid over anything he had yet seen.
Our torches were lighted, and we went forward quite a distance,
through a tunnel eight or ten feet wide, out of which a smaller tunnel
descended. Down this tunnel we walked until we came to the edge of a
black, repulsive pool, over which the light shone very dimly. There
was considerable smoke hanging over the water, and altogether the
place was about as gloomy as anything I had ever seen. For all that
could be discovered, the pool might be a thousand feet deep, and any
number of miles across; to venture upon it might be like venturing
upon the Atlantic Ocean, or any other great body of water. I noticed
that the guides had their trousers rolled to the knee, and were
barefooted. They fearlessly entered the water; two of them carried the
torches, and three others backed themselves to the edge where there
was a sort of stepping-stone.
“What is to be done now?” we asked of our private guide.
“Montez ze backs ze men of,” he replied. “You they carry porteez will
to Grotto del Sibyl.”
[Sidenote: HUMAN PACK MULES.]
We hesitated to trust ourselves with these fellows, who might drown
us, or throw us into a hole a few thousand feet deep, and leave us to
come up again through the crater of Mount Vesuvius. But finally we
concluded to try it, and so we mounted our two-legged steeds and rode
off.
It happened that I was the heaviest of our party, and it also happened
that the man who took me did not weigh as much as I did by at least
fifty pounds. He trembled beneath me like a plateful of jelly in the
hands of an intoxicated waiter, and I expected every moment he would
drop me into the water. We went out from the shore into the smoky
darkness, and in less than a minute we were completely at sea. Water
was beneath and around us, and there was a black sky above that we
could almost touch. No horizon was visible, and altogether we seemed
to be in a world about ten feet in diameter, and without sun, moon, or
stars.
Our porters splashed along in water about two feet deep, and I thought
much more of the liability of my pack animal to stumble than I did of
the Cumean Sibyl and her oracles. Nero was less in my mind than the
garlic-eating Italian beneath me, and I was much less interested in
the Roman kings than in a certain subject of Victor Emanuel. Our trio
exchanged comments on this novel mode of travelling, and for the time
we had very little appreciation of the wonderful history of Rome and
her dependencies.
[Sidenote: CUMEAN SIBYL.]
As near as my recollection serves, we had about five minutes of this
sort of travel, when the head of our procession came to a halt before
a recess in the wall, which our leader described as the Sibyl’s Bath.
It seems that before delivering her oracles, she used to take a bath,
on the principle, doubtless, that cleanliness is next to godliness,
and the purer her skin the more likely would the gods be to aid her
with their inspiration. The artists represent her as a pretty woman,
and of course she was well aware that frequent bathing had a tendency
to preserve her good looks.
The couch or bench where she reclined when delivering her oracles was
pointed out, and as it then appeared, it was anything but comfortable.
The presence of the water in the cave was explained to be something
modern, and not at all in fashion when the Sibyl used to be at home
to visitors of wealth and distinction. She used to keep her floor dry
and well swept, and probably she had a little sideboard with a cold
ham or two and a bottle of wine. Nero was a frequent caller, both in
fashionable and unfashionable hours, and used to send her valuable
presents. Mrs. Nero was jealous, but the old gentleman was in a
position to do pretty much as he liked, and didn’t mind her scolding.
One of my companions showed me a scrap of paper, which he said he
found just inside the entrance to the cave, while I was paying off the
guides. It ran as follows:—
May 10, 4 P. M.
DEAREST SIB: Expect me at eight. The old lady is going out this
evening, and won’t miss me. Have the tea ready, and send out for
a bottle of Clicquot. I will bring a mince pie and some Limburger
cheese; also a new pair of ear-rings and a chignon.
Your loving
NERO.
I suspected that the note was a forgery, as it was written in English,
and the paper had the water-mark of 1866. I called my friend’s
attention to these slight discrepancies, and he at once put the paper
in his pocket, and said nothing more about it.
[Sidenote: AN UNFORTUNATE ENGLISHMAN.]
After looking at the couch of the Sibyl we started back to our
landing-place. Just as we neared it we met another party going in. One
of the porters of the new party was evidently weak in the knees, for
he stumbled just as he passed me, and went down like a handful of mud.
The gentleman he carried was dropped into the water, and fell flat, as
though intending to take a swim. He slowly rose to his feet, and after
blowing the water from his mouth with a noise like the spouting of a
whale, he ventured several remarks that were nowise complimentary to
his porter or to the place. He appeared somewhat excited. His language
showed him to be English, but there was nothing in it to indicate that
he was a member in good and regular standing of the Church of England.
He did not finish his journey to the bath and couch of the Sibyl, but
followed us to the shore, where he wrung himself out, and then retired
to his carriage to be hung up to dry. With a heartlessness peculiar to
many travellers, he refused to pay the porter for his services. It is
fortunate that the latter did not understand English, as he would have
been offended at the remarks which were made about him.
From the Sibyl’s Cave we went to the famous Lake of Avernus, which
was described by Virgil long before anybody who reads this book was
familiar with a single word of Latin. Near the lake is the famous
passage into the mountain about which Virgil wrote:—
“Facilis descensus Averni. Sed revocare gradum, hic opus, hic labor
est.”
We paid our admission fee, and then prepared according to the
directions of the guide. We laid aside our coats and vests, removed
our collars, neck-ties, and hats, and altogether put ourselves in
a condition quite improper in polite society. A boy stood ready to
precede us in a costume consisting of a pair of pantaloons and a tin
pail. A fresh egg was now shown us, and we examined it to see that it
was quite cold and raw. The boy then took the egg and a torch, and
went into a tunnel like the one at the Sibyl’s Cave. A blast of hot
air met us at the entrance, as though it came from a furnace, and I
thought of Nebuchadnezzar and the treat that he used to have for his
visitors. On and on we went, and also down and down. Old Virgil was
right when he said that the descent was easy, for we went down with
the grace of so many oysters entering the mouth of a champagne bottle.
Hotter and hotter grew the air, and before we were half way down I
remembered some business that I had neglected when I left America.
I wanted to go back to look after it, but my friends argued that it
would keep a little longer, and I had better go on. So we continued
down into the bowels of the mountain, over a slippery pathway and in a
temperature as agreeable as that of the stoker’s room on a steamship.
We reached the end at last, and the boy stooped to the edge of a pool
of water and placed the egg within it. We could see a thin vapor
rising from the surface, and readily imagined that it was steam. The
boy was careful of his hands, more careful than was necessary, since
he might have added to the interest of the occasion by scalding them,
and then hiring another boy to take his place. There were plenty of
boys outside who could be hired cheap, and if a dozen were killed
daily by scalding, or rendered helpless, it would have made no serious
diminution of the Italian population.
[Sidenote: FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI.]
We stood there a couple of minutes, and then the boy took the tin pail
and scooped up the egg and a quart or two of water. He then started
back, and scrambled quite nimbly up the steep and slippery path. It
was a difficult ascent to make, and we acknowledged that Virgil’s head
was level when he told about the labor required to retrace one’s steps
from Avernus. We perspired like a man who has just learned that he is
the father of triplets, and by the time we completed the journey, our
clothing was pretty thoroughly saturated. The boy was accustomed to
it, as the old lady’s eels were to being skinned, and the hide on his
shirtless back looked like the outside of a long-used pocket-book. The
egg was thoroughly cooked, and the water in the pail was of a scalding
temperature, altogether too hot to put one’s hand into. The egg cost
us half a franc, and so did the boy: one of us ate the egg with a
little salt, but we declined to eat the boy with or without salt, and
he did not urge us.
The guide told us that one day an Englishman went down the “descensus
Averni,” and on arriving at the hot water, he stepped around so
carelessly that he slipped and fell in. His cries and shrieks rang
through the tunnel; he was pulled out as quickly as possible, but he
was so badly scalded that he died in a few hours. Several accidents
have happened there by persons scalding their hands and feet, but the
character of the place is such, that people are likely to be careful;
otherwise there would be frequent casualties to record.
[Sidenote: NERO’S PRISON.]
We visited the ruins of temples that were erected to I don’t know
how many deities, and the next subterranean exploration that we made
was at Nero’s Prison, as the guide and the guide-books call it. We
left our carriage and went on foot up a narrow lane, and along a path
where beggars followed and beset us at every turn; notwithstanding
their importunity, they did not extract any money from us, though they
appeared in all the conditions in which beggars could possibly present
themselves. Nero must have been a charming personage if one could
judge of him by looking at the place where he used to shut up those
who offended him. It was a subterranean affair, and we were obliged to
light our torches to explore it. We were led through winding passages
into cells that were anything but comfortable, the guide stopping
every moment to explain to us the nature of each one of the cells, and
the uses to which they were put. They were small enough to render it
utterly improbable that a man would exert his legs very actively in
running, after he was once shut in, and as for light and ventilation,
they were quite in keeping with the size of the apartments.
I inquired about the character of the food which Nero used to furnish
to the occupants of his boarding-house, and was told that it was not
of a luxurious character. Nero had no _table d’hôte_, but used to send
the meals to the rooms of his guests. None of them are alive now, and
their early death is to be attributed in many cases to the treatment
they received. At the time they resided there, oysters had not been
invented, and there is nothing on record to show that the delicious
conglomerate which we call hash had made its appearance. Some of the
patrons used to express a desire to live on the European plan, and
take their meals outside; but the proprietor would never permit it.
And it must be said, to his credit, that his establishment was to a
certain extent a free lunch concern, as he never charged anything for
board and lodging. Everything was gratis, and of course the patrons
who complained must have been mean fellows, who couldn’t be satisfied,
no matter what you might do for them.
[Sidenote: CHOICE FURNITURE.]
The furniture of the place was very simple. It had been mostly removed
when we were there, but it consisted originally of a bundle of straw
on the ground and a double lock on the door. There used to be a
gymnasium, where they kept a choice lot of racks, thumb-screws, and
other luxurious arrangements. Life in the private rooms used to be
monotonous, and in order to render it interesting, Nero would take his
patrons into the gymnasium to amuse them. Some of them he would play a
joke upon by tying them down on a rack and then winding up the machine
so that a man of five feet eight would often be converted into six
feet two. When he had been played with in this way, they would turn
him loose, though releasing him did no good, as he was generally dead
before they let him off.
[Illustration: NERO’S GYMNASIUM, AN APARTMENT IN “NERO’S PRISON.”]
[Sidenote: PROCRUSTES’ BED.]
The gymnasium had another arrangement, patented by Mr. Procrustes,
which was intended to equalize all men, and make them of a uniform
height. This invention, based on the principles of mechanical
communism, was a bedstead of iron, and there were various individuals
who enjoyed the treat of being placed upon it. A poet has alluded to
it as follows:—
“This iron bedstead they do fetch
To try our hopes upon.
If we’re too short we must be stretched,
Cut off if we’re too long.”
When they laid out a man on this couch, if its length corresponded
with his, he was immediately removed before he had time to go to
sleep. If he was short, both in money and in stature, they elongated
him until he could touch headboard and footboard at the same time; and
if he was a tall fellow, they shortened him at the feet with a large
pair of shears that were kept for the purpose. When a hundred men had
been measured on this bed and placed in a row, they were found to be
of the same elevation. A good many of them died soon afterwards, but
people were numerous in those days, and the dead ones were not missed
by those who didn’t know anything about them.
Down in the kitchen, Nero had a gridiron resembling a garden gate,
or a section of an iron fence. He had so many cooks that all of them
could not be constantly employed, and so he busied himself to devise
ways to employ them. He found that the gridiron was just the thing,
and when his cooks were idle he used to take one of his lodgers down
stairs and promise him a good roast. The lodger would be thinking of a
nice turkey or a leg of mutton when Nero said “roast” to him, and as
the private table was not very good, he was always ready to go below.
When they got down stairs Nero would tip the wink to the cooks, who
would seize the lodger and tie him on the gridiron. They then built
a fire under him, and Nero carried on the joke by standing alongside
with a big ladle and pouring hot oil over his guest. When he was done
brown, and turned over and done on the other side, they would let him
off to enjoy the fun of seeing the sell played on the next man. No
doubt he would have enjoyed it had he not been dead long before they
got through with him.
[Sidenote: THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.]
When we returned to Naples, we went by another route than the one we
had taken in the morning. At one place our way led through a tunnel
cut into the solid earth, and said to be more than two thousand years
old. It has worn down greatly since it was first opened; the marks
of the axles of carts and wagons are visible along its sides ten or
twelve feet above the present floor. It is lighted by torches placed
at regular intervals along the walls, and is an important thoroughfare
for people going between Naples and certain villages and towns to
the north of it. At the end nearest to Naples we were taken to what
is supposed to be the Tomb of Virgil, though its authenticity is
considerably in doubt. It certainly is not much of a tomb, and many
a man not half so talented or famous as Virgil has been lodged after
death in far more beautiful quarters than these.
The peculiar nature of the earth composing the hills around Naples
has greatly facilitated the construction of tunnels and caves. It is
almost identical with that of the bluffs of Vicksburg—easy to cut, and
at the same time sufficiently firm to prevent falling in. No roofing
or arching of any kind is needed, and the tools ordinarily used in
excavations are all that are required. Consequently every man who has
a hill on his farm can construct a spacious wine cellar at little
expense; and if he has a friendly neighbor over the hill, they can
easily cut their way through, and save the trouble of climbing when
they want to visit each other.
I heard of Neapolitan thieves who sometimes find out a well-stored
wine cellar in the side of a small hill, and carefully observe its
position. Then they erect a small house on the other side, and begin a
small tunnel. They cart the dirt away at night, and after a month or
so enter the cellar and steal enough wine to pay them handsomely for
their trouble.
XIV.
THE EXCAVATIONS OF DR. SCHLIEMANN, AT MYCENÆ (GREECE).
HIS EARLY LIFE AND IDEAL.—THE TREASURES OF PRIAMUS.—DESCRIPTION
OF THE SPOT.—EARLY HISTORY OF MYCENÆ.—PAUSANIAS, THE ANCIENT
ARCHÆOLOGIST.—WHERE THE EXCAVATIONS WERE COMMENCED.—THE TOMB OF
AGAMEMNON AND HIS FAITHFUL WARRIORS.—DESCRIPTION OF THE TREASURES
FOUND.—PROOFS OF THE IMMENSE ANTIQUITY OF THE TOMBS.—RECENT
PORTRAITS TAKEN OF HEROES OF ANCIENT GREECE.—HOW IT WAS DONE.—THE
VALUE OF THE DISCOVERIES REGARDING ART MATTERS.—HERACLES
STRUGGLING WITH THE LION.—DR. SCHLIEMANN’S HEROIC WIFE.—DISCOVERY
OF THE TEMPLE OF ÆSCULAPIUS.—A BYZANTINE CAVE UNDER THE ROCK.—A
DISCOVERY WHICH FILLS ATHENS WITH JOY.—THE STATUE OF VICTORY FOUND
IN ALMOST PERFECT CONDITION.
[Illustration: DR. AND MRS. SCHLIEMANN, THE EXCAVATORS, AT MYCENÆ
(GREECE).]
Dr. Heinrich Schliemann, the great excavator, of whom so much has
been said of late, is a German by birth, and a man of an idealistic
character. In his youth, he dreamed of the heroes of antiquity; he
was a passionate student of the Trojan war, and the adventures of
Odessus and Agamemnon. He loved to hear, in school, Homer recited, and
afterwards, when he went through his variegated life, as ship’s boy,
ship’s broker, clerk, commercial correspondent, and, at last, as an
independent and rich merchant, one ideal pursued him, that of seeing,
for himself, the seat of Homer, and the fatherland of the heroes of
whom that great poet of antiquity sings; he wanted to find the traces
of the past dead. After he had occupied himself, for many years, with
his plan, after having surmounted innumerable obstacles, of which he
gives a touching description in his autobiography, he succeeded, in
1867, in undertaking his first trip to Ithaca, the Peloponnesus, and
Troja. The searches then made led to the discovery of the treasures of
Priamus, which astounded the world; and scarcely has the astonishment
of such remarkable discoveries cooled off, when Dr. Schliemann
surprises us by a new miracle. He believed in the divinity, and found
its trace; the treasures showed that Priamus had existed; the tomb
identified Agamemnon.
But before entering upon a description of the excavations, and the
treasures found therein, we deem it highly necessary to give a
description, in outline, of the spot where the gems of antiquity are
being unearthed.
[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF THE SPOT.]
We cannot do better than give the extract from the notes of an
excursion, made on the very spot, under which Dr. Schliemann is now
digging for treasures and historical facts, which undoubtedly are of
the greatest importance for the knowledge of antiquity and the land
of Homer. This excursion was made in 1871, some five years before the
persistent doctor commenced his researches.
It reads substantially as follows:
“From Tiryns we proceeded, Feb. 7th, by carriage to Argos, the city of
Inachus, where we found horses saddled, waiting for us, to enable us
to go to Mycenæ. We crossed, on our way, the river Inachus, and found,
on the Argolic plain, for the first time, the red poppies which we
afterwards noticed as so abundant in Palestine. After having gone up
the crumbling steps of the amphitheater, the most important monument
at Argos, (where, beset by the importunate solicitations of some boys,
we bought two or three old coins, where _coin is said to have been
first invented_. The invention of coin is ascribed to the Lydians,
yet it is certain that it was used at Argos.) We mounted our horses
and rode over the plain, finding in many places only a difficult
bridle-path, to the treasury of Atreus, or the tomb of Agamemnon.
This structure, for it may be either treasury or tomb, or both, (we
commend to Dr. Schliemann the solution of the problem,) consists
of a building cut out of the side of a hill, entrance to which is
through a gateway, down an inclined plane, with walls on both sides,
into two vaulted apartments—one larger than the other, and both now
empty. The most remarkable feature is the gateway, and especially the
huge soffit which spans it, not more from its immense size, than
from the apparent impossibility of removing it from the place which
it occupies, held in its position by its own weight, and supporting
the pressure of the mass above it. (A similar contrivance we noticed
in the gateway of the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek.) ‘The remains of
copper nails in the walls of the larger apartment, indicated that it
had been sheathed with copper plates, while the inner chamber may have
been coated with marble.’
“Here, after having examined the ruin, we lunched and again mounting
our horses, proceeded to view the celebrated ‘Lions’ of Mycenæ, once
the site of the royal palace of Agamemnon—itself a _ruin in the time
of Homer_—its foundation going back to an almost dateless antiquity.
The ruins of Mycenæ are, in many respects, unequaled in interest
by any object in Greece. Their position is fortunate; there is no
habitation near them. The traveler ascends from the open plain to the
deserted hill on which they stand. The walls of the citadel may still
be traced in their entire circuit, and on the western side they rise
to a considerable height. Only a few foundations of ancient buildings
remain, and one or two cisterns hewn in the rocky soil, and lined with
cement. Such is the present state of the Acropolis of Mycenæ. Two
gates, one on the northeast, the other on the northwest, both guarded
by a tower, gave entrance into the city. The two gates and tower seem
to have been connected, and illustrate the military architecture
presented to our notice in the Iliad. The ‘Lions’ are represented in
high relief, rampant, headless, their feet resting on a pedestal which
is a Doric column reversed, carved out of a block of gray limestone.
By whom erected, or for what purpose, must ever remain a mystery.
Perhaps the simplest explanation is the best, that they denote
the ‘courage leonine,’ and were heraldic badges upon the national
escutcheon of Mycenæ. We clambered over the walls of the ruined
palace of Agamemnon, on the hill-side we came across several pieces
of antique pottery, which we have preserved. To make the illusion
more complete, while we were exploring the ruins, a fierce, wolfish,
shepherd-dog, the only guardian of the place, in a field below, kept
up a loud, persistent barking, which ceased not till we had left the
spot.”
It is perhaps too soon, in the present imperfect state of the
excavations at Mycenæ, to form a true estimate of their value, as
related to the authenticity of the heroes of Homer. However, we will
give, as far as that is possible, from the reports of Dr. Schliemann
himself, a review of the wonderful things which this great sapper and
miner has brought to light:
[Sidenote: THE CITY OF MYCENÆ.]
The city of Mycenæ must have been wonderfully beautiful. Homer calls
it “the city rich in gold and broad of streets,” at the time when
the ruler of Mycenæ, Agamemnon, assisted the Greeks against Troja,
with one hundred ships, and a great number of men, for which service
he was elected their commander-in-chief. He fell, at his return, by
the faithlessness of his wife, and with him the glory of the city
was gone. Only rarely we find, in history, traces of her unimportant
existence. About the middle of the fifth century B. C., she was
destroyed by the Argivi, and her inhabitants dispersed.
[Illustration: THE EXPLORATIONS AT MYCENÆ. THE TREASURY OF ATREUS
(ENTRANCE.)]