it proved; although, I believe, we should all, under our feelings of
hunger, have given the preference to a few mutton chops hastily provided;
but the order of things must not be deranged; as we proposed to set off
at four in the morning, we were glad to retire to bed immediately after
dinner.
In the morning Captain S⸺ had the kindness to get up to see us off, when
he sent his servant to conduct us to a much nearer point than Sorento,
and which proved to be the individual spot where we had first arrived on
the preceding day. We did not reach Naples until nine o’clock, having
little wind, so that we had to pull a considerable part of the distance.
On the 26th, Lieut. B⸺ and myself, accompanied Count K⸺ on board the
Austrian flagship, lying off this port. This vessel, named the Austria,
was a frigate of forty-four guns, built by the French at Venice, and
afterwards taken possession of by the Austrians. We found an English
sailor on board, who had entered from one of our merchantmen in the
Mediterranean, and who gave us no very favourable account of the naval
tactics of the Austrians. The officers appeared to want that smartness
which we are accustomed to in a British man-of-war; that is, there was
a heavy manner about them. We were treated, however, with civility,
although we did expect more attention, having been introduced as British
naval officers.
On the 29th, one of the two Austrian frigates lying here, with two
Neapolitan frigates, having under convoy about forty smaller vessels,
with eight thousand Austrian troops on board, sailed for Palermo. My
friends were highly delighted with this spectacle.
Having heard much of the island of Ischia, distant twenty-four miles from
Naples, I was induced to cross over to it, in company with Mr. J. O⸺, an
English gentleman, who was purposing to spend some time there, on account
of his health. We had intended setting off some days before, but the
Sirocco wind prevented us, being attended by a heavy swell setting into
the bay, so that no boat would venture out. We left Naples at six o’clock
in the morning of the 30th of May, and after passing by the islands of
Nicida and Prochyta, on the former of which stands the Lazaretto, and on
the latter one of the king’s palaces, we landed about half after eleven,
at the village of Ischia. We were immediately surrounded by a number of
fellows having asses with them, which they, with much insolence, urged us
to hire. Mr. O⸺ took one for his little nephew whom he had brought with
him, and setting him forward, we followed on foot until we arrived at
Sentinella, a distance of three or four miles. We were pursued, however,
for a considerable time by a drove of these donkey men, in expectation
that we might hire their animals; but at length, finding themselves
disappointed, they gradually gave up the point, hooting and holloing
after us as they departed.
On laying my hand on one of these asses, I was astonished at the
silkiness of its skin; but I believe the hair of all animals is
proportionately softer in southern climates, probably in consequence
of the superficial pores being more open. I have heard, and it appears
probable, that the nerves of the cuticle, as of the finger, are more
sensible in warm latitudes; and that this is the reason why the silks,
and other fine works, in such countries, are of more delicate texture,
than what are manufactured elsewhere.
This island, formerly known by the names of Enaria and Pithecusa, is
exceedingly fertile, rich, and populous, the whole of it is conceived to
be of volcanic origin; indeed it was formerly famous for its frequent
eruptions, although they have now entirely ceased. The town of Ischia,
from whence it derives its present name, is situated in a small bay,
which is protected by a castle, built on a rock projecting into the sea,
and separated from the main island by a ridge of sand.
Sentinella is a single house, standing on a rock which overhangs the
sea; it belongs to a public notary, who receives visitors that come to
the island for the benefit of its baths, and who are accommodated with
board and lodging at the rate of a dollar per day; as a situation, it
is far preferable to the adjoining village of Lucio, which is a shabby
place, standing low on the shore, and consequently excessively hot, and
infested by mosquitoes; whereas, at Sentinella, there is a fine sea
breeze by day, and fresh air from the mountains at night. The proprietor
has several daughters, agreeable young women, who study the comforts of
their visitors; he has, besides, a brother, a medical man, residing in
the village. In the evening, the young ladies entertained us with music
and dancing.
The baths are situated at the village. There are two springs, one termed
_Aqua del occhio_, from which the baths are supplied; the other is called
the _Aqua Caponi_; I drank a couple of tumblers full of the latter, the
taste of which reminded me of a weak solution of Cheltenham salts.
After returning from the baths, we rested quietly for the remainder of
the day, amusing ourselves with reading; in the evening, we walked to
a village named Piazza, and on our return, were again entertained with
music and dancing.
On the following morning, I took leave of Sentinella, where I should
have felt happy to have prolonged my stay, in order to have enjoyed more
of the society of Mr. O⸺, whom I left behind me. The pursuits of this
gentleman, were much in unison with my own; that is, he occupied his
time with an alternation of exercise and reading, the one so condusive
to health, the other to happiness; nor were these pursuits directed to
the mere attainment of vacant pleasure, but to the more satisfactory
acquisition of useful information; and Horace says,
“Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.”
At ten o’clock I embarked for Naples, which, however, we did not reach
before six in the evening, for we had light or contrary winds throughout
the day, and, notwithstanding the use of our oars, made but slow
progress.
On the following day a fine morning was succeeded, about noon, by a
cloudy atmosphere, and in returning from the custom-house, where I had
accompanied a gentleman, we were overtaken by a dreadful thunderstorm,
attended by torrents of rain. We succeeded, however, in gaining shelter.
On this occasion, I missed my pocket handkerchief, and whether it had
been filched away by the rude wind, or some of the light-fingered gentry,
with whom this city abounds, it is impossible for me to say, although I
am inclined to suspect the latter. It was, however, the only loss of the
kind I sustained during my journey.
Sunday, June 3d, Mr. C⸺ and myself hired a curriculo or gig, and drove to
Capo di Monte, to visit Mr. and Mrs. M⸺. This is a most delightful summer
residence, standing on very elevated ground, although only two miles
distant from the city. The king has a palace here, as he has in almost
every fine situation; in short, the royal residences are so numerous,
that one can scarce wonder at the heavy income-tax of twenty-five per
cent. as well as the immense duties, imposed on his subjects.
CHAP. XX.
NAPLES.—POMPEII.
Monday, June 4th, promising to be favourable for my intention of visiting
the remains of Pompeii, distant about fourteen miles from Naples, my
friend C⸺, and myself, engaged a curriculo to take us over to that spot;
for this conveyance, we paid only twelve carlines, equal to about four
shillings; but when it is recollected, that my driver could support
himself and his horse through the day, for one-eighth part of that sum,
the compensation ceases to be a contemptible one.
We left Naples a little before six, and after resting for breakfast at
Torre del Annunciata, arrived at Pompeii about nine o’clock. Our road
lay through rich vineyards, and over various beds of lava, the remains
of different eruptions from Mount Vesuvius. In 1794, one town through
which we passed, Torre del Greco, was destroyed by one of these awful
visitations, and yet such is the attachment of the infatuated people to
this situation, that a new one has arisen on the self-same spot.
We entered the suburbs of Pompeii, by the villa of the Roman, whose
skeleton was found in the garden, with a purse of gold in his hand, with
which he appears to have been endeavouring to escape, when arrested by
the overwhelming shower of ashes. After passing these suburbs, in which
we noticed a number of monuments, and receptacles for the ashes of the
dead, we entered under an ancient gateway into the city itself. It is not
easy to describe the sensations which rushed upon my soul, on finding
myself within this monumental city, or to give that lucid description
which it requires; I shall therefore not apologize for borrowing an
account, which corresponds with the ideas I was personally led to form of
it. I shall, however, premise, that the order of our exploration, varied
from the one usually adopted by the Cicerones, who take you first to the
amphitheatre; on the contrary, we commenced with those points, which
strangers generally finish with, leaving the theatres and amphitheatre
for the last objects of research, and thus, as it were, proceeding from
small things to great ones.
“The remains of this town afford a truly interesting spectacle. It is
like a resurrection from the dead; the progress of time and decay is
arrested, and you are admitted to the temples, the theatres, and the
domestic privacy of a people, who have ceased to exist for seventeen
centuries. Nothing is wanting but the inhabitants: still, a morning’s
walk through the silent streets of Pompeii, will give you a livelier idea
of their modes of life, than all the books in the world. They seem like
the French of the present day, to have existed only in public. Their
temples, theatres, basilicas, and forums, are on the most splendid scale,
but in their private dwellings, we discover little, or no attention to
comfort. The houses in general, have a small court, round which the
rooms are built, which are rather cells than rooms; the greater part
are without windows, receiving light only from the door. There are no
chimneys; the smoke of the kitchen, which is usually low and dark, must
have found its way through a hole in the ceiling.
“The doors are so low, that you are obliged to stoop to pass through
them. There are some traces of Mosaic flooring, and the stucco paintings,
with which all the walls are covered, are but little injured; and upon
their being wetted, they appear as fresh as ever. Brown, red, yellow,
and blue, are the prevailing colours. It is a pity that the contents of
the houses could not have been allowed to remain in the state in which
they were found: but this would have been impossible. Travellers are the
greatest thieves in the world. As it is, they will tear down, without
scruple, the whole side of a room, to cut out a favourable specimen of
the stucco painting. If it were not for this pilfering propensity, we
might now see every thing as it really was left at the time of this great
calamity; even to the skeleton which was found with a purse of gold in
its hand. In the stocks of the guard-room, which was used as a military
punishment, the skeletons of four soldiers were found sitting; but these
poor fellows have now been released from their ignominious situation, and
the stocks, with every thing else that was moveable, have been placed
in the museum; the bones being consigned to their parent clay. Pompeii,
therefore, exhibits nothing but bare walls, and the walls are without
roofs; for these have been broken in, by the weight of the shower of
ashes and pumice stones, that caused the destruction of the town.
“The amphitheatre is very perfect, as indeed are the two other theatres,
intended for dramatic representations, though it is evident that they
had sustained some injury from the earthquake, which, as we learn from
Tacitus, had already much damaged this devoted town, before its final
destruction by the eruption of Vesuvius. ‘Et motu terræ celebre Campaniæ
oppidum Pompeii magna ex parte proruit.’—TAC. ANN. 15. c. 22.
“The paintings on the walls of the amphitheatre, represent the combats
of gladiators and wild beasts, the dens of which remain just as
they were seventeen hundred years ago. The two theatres for dramatic
entertainments, are as close together as our own Drury Lane and Covent
Garden. The larger one which might have contained five thousand persons,
like the amphitheatre had no roof, but was open to the day. The stage
is very much circumscribed—there is no depth, and consequently there
are no side scenes; the forms and appearance are like that of our own
theatres, when the drop scene is down, and forms the extent of the
stage. In the back scene of the Roman stage, which instead of canvas, is
composed of unchangeable brick and marble, are three doors; and there
are two others on the sides, answering to our stage-doors. It seems that
it was the theatrical etiquette, that the premiers roles should have
their exits and entrances, through the doors of the back scene, and the
inferior ones through those on the sides.
“The little theatre is covered, and in better preservation than
the other; and it is supposed that this was intended for musical
entertainments. The temple of Isis has suffered little injury; the
statues alone have been taken away. You see the very altar on which the
victims were offered, and you may now ascend without ceremony the private
stairs, which led to the sanctum sanctorum of the goddess; where those
mysterious rites were celebrated, the nature of which may be shrewdly
guessed from the curiosities discovered there, and which are now to be
seen in the Museo Borbonico. In a niche on the outside of the temple, was
the statue of Harpocraes, the God of silence—who was most appropriately
placed here; but
‘Foul deeds will rise
Though all the earth o’erwhelm them to men’s eyes.’
“The streets are very narrow; the marks of wheels on the pavement shew
that carriages were in use, but there must have been some regulation to
prevent their meeting each other; for one carriage would have occupied
the whole of the street, except the narrow trottoir raised on each side
for foot passengers, for whose accommodation, there are also raised
stepping stones, in order to cross from one side to the other. The
distances between the wheel traces, are four feet three inches.
“There is often an emblem over the door of a house, that determines
the profession of its former owner. The word ‘Salve’ on one, seems to
denote that it was an inn, as we have in our days the sign of ‘The
Salutation.’ In the outer brick-work of another, is carved an emblem,
which shocks the refinement of modern taste; but which has been an object
even of religious adoration in many countries, probably as a symbol
of creative power. The same device is found on the stucco of the inner
court of another house, with this intimation, ‘Hic habitat Felicitas,’ a
sufficient explanation of the character of its inhabitants. Many of the
paintings on the walls are very elegant in the taste and design, and they
often assist us in ascertaining the uses for which the different rooms
were intended. For example, in the baths, we find Tritons, and Naiads; in
the bed-chambers, Morpheus scatters his poppies; and in the eating-room,
a sacrifice to Esculapius teaches us, that we should eat, to live;—and
not live, to eat.
“In one of these rooms, are the remains of a triclinium. A baker’s
shop is as plainly indicated, as if the loaves were now at his window.
There is a mill for grinding the corn, and the oven for baking; and the
surgeon, and the druggist, have also been traced, by the quality of the
articles found in their respective dwellings.
“But the most complete specimen that we have of an ancient residence,
is the villa which has been discovered, at a small distance without the
gate. It is on a more splendid scale, than any of the houses in the town
itself, and it has been preserved with scarcely any injury. Some have
imagined that this was the Pompeianum—the Pompeian villa of Cicero. Be
this as it may, it must have belonged to a man of taste. Situated on a
sloping bank, the front entrance opens, as it were, into the first floor;
below which, on the garden side, into which the house looks—for the door
is the only aperture on the road side—is a ground floor, with spacious
arcades, and open rooms, all facing the garden; and above are the
sleeping-rooms. The walls and ceilings of this villa are ornamented with
paintings of very elegant design, all which have a relation to the uses
of the apartments in which they are placed. In the middle of the garden
there is a reservoir of water, surrounded by columns, and the ancient
well still remains. Though we have many specimens of Roman glass in their
drinking vessels, it has been doubted, whether they were acquainted with
the use of it in the windows. Swinburne, however in describing Pompeii,
says, ‘In the window of a bed-chamber some panes of glass are remaining.
This would seem to decide the question;—but they remain no longer.’
“The host was fond of conviviality, if we may judge from the dimension of
his cellar, which extends under the whole of the house, and the arcades
also, and many of the amphoræ remain, in which the wine was stowed. It
was here that the skeletons of seven-and-twenty poor wretches were
found, who took refuge in this place from the fiery shower that would
have killed them at once, to suffer the lingering torments of being
starved to death. It was in one of the porticos leading to the outward
entrance, that the skeleton, supposed to be that of the master of the
house, was found with a key in one hand, and a purse of gold in the
other. So much for Pompeii.”—MATTHEWS.
“⸺Thus deep beneath
Earth’s bosom, and the mansions of the graves
Of men, are graves of cities. Such of late,
From its long sleep of darkness disenterr’d,
Pompeii, with its low and buried roofs,
Rose dark upon the miner’s progress, like
A city of the dead! a tomb perchance
Where living men were buried! Tyrant Death!
How didst thou triumph then! thou us’d’st to steal
Behind thy sallow harbinger disease,
Or take thine open and determinate stand
In battle’s ranks, with danger at thy side
Forewarning gallant breasts prepar’d to die;
But there—thy spect’ral visage darken’d forth,
Amid the joyous bosom-scenes of life,
From its invisible ambush! There it found,
The myriad fantasies of hearts, and brains,
Young loves, and hopes, and pleasures, all abroad,
Spreading their painted wings, and wantoning,
In life’s glad summer-breeze, from flower to flower;
And, with the fatal spell of one dread glance.
Blasted them all!—how sunk the tender maid,
Then silent to the still and stiffening clasp
Of her dead lover! Echo had not ceas’d
To catch love’s inarticulate ecstasies,
Strain’d in a first embrace—for ever, then,
Fix’d statue-like in Death’s tremendous arms
A hideous contrast! One fell moment still’d
Lovers and foes alike; workers of good,
And guilty wretches:—then the statesman’s brain,
Stopp’d in its calculation, and the bard
Sunk by his lyre;—the loud procession
Before the Temple—all the cares of life,
With action and contrivance, through the streets
Thronged multitudinous, in their busy time
Of bustle and magnificence,—and all
Life’s thousands were abroad, and the high sounds
Of civic pomp rose audible from far:—
But louder rose the terrible voice of ruin
Over their mirth, ‘BE STILL’D,’ and all was hush’d!
Save the short shudd’ring cries that rose unheard—
The up-turn’d glances from a thousand homes,
Thro’ the red closing surge! awful groan
Of agitated Nature! while beneath,
Ten thousand victims turn’d to die:—above
Bright sunbeams lit the plain—a nameless tomb.”—MATURIN.
Absorbed in feelings of the most melancholy, but tenderest nature, we
commenced our return to Naples, where we arrived about five o’clock in
the evening.
We experienced much thunder and lightning for a day or two, which, on the
7th were succeeded by a clear hot day. In the evening, I took a drive
in a carriage, in company with Dr. K⸺ to the Lake Agnano. On our way,
we passed the Grotto del Cani, or Dog’s Cave, which has the quality of
being fatal to that animal when taken into it, whereas the human subject
can remain within it uninjured. The cause of this phenomenon admits of
easy explanation. A quantity of carbonic acid gas is disengaged from
apertures, or chinks in the sides of the cavern, and from its greater
specific gravity than atmospheric air, falls to the floor which is
somewhat lower than the entrance: it is consequently retained there,
producing its peculiar noxious effects on animals of low stature when
introduced into it,—as a common-sized dog; while others of a superior
height, not having their organs of respiration immersed in the injurious
fluid, remain in the cave with impunity. Thus readily does philosophy, in
this instance, overturn the errors of superstition; for the peculiarities
of this cavern, were formerly attributed to the influence of a vengeful
deity.
I did not enter the grotto, my friend having neglected to inform me of
our approach to it, although the examination of it was a leading object
of my evening’s drive. I should, however, have found no gratification,
could I have witnessed the convulsive agonies of one of the unfortunate
animals, who are kept for the purpose of demonstrating the properties of
the cave, and who, after being immersed until life is nearly extinct,
are then returned into a purer atmosphere, to reserve them for repeated
exhibition. The exhibitors have a peculiar mode of assisting the recovery
in this case; namely, to throw the poor creature into the lake. It is
not easy to conceive, under suspension of vitality from such a source,
how this is to contribute to its restoration. On our return, one of these
dogs, consisting literally of skin and bone, was lying on the ground near
the mouth of the cave. I could not but wish, that the numerous persons
who visit this simple natural phenomenon, would provide themselves with
bread to feed these poor animals, instead of wantonly amusing themselves
with so cruel an experiment of its effects.
On approaching the Lake Agnano, my organ of smell became strongly
affected, by the sulphurous exhalation proceeding from its surface,
and the marshy grounds around it, and which I readily recognised to be
sulphuretted hydrogen. I was astonished by the extraordinary croaking of
the numerous frogs, which inhabit this lake, far exceeding any thing I
had ever heard from the various froggeries of France or Italy. One would
have thought that Aaron’s rod had been extended over it; they appeared
to be all around, so that I fancied every step I had to take, must have
crushed more or less of them to death. There was no habitation near, or
the description of Exodus, chap. VIII. verse 3, must have been realized
with respect to it.
CHAP. XXI.
MOUNT VESUVIUS.
Notwithstanding the representations made to me on all sides of the
difficulties which must attend it, my desire to visit Mount Vesuvius was
of so ardent a nature, that I certainly should have made the attempt
alone, had not a friend, Mr. M., kindly volunteered to accompany me, but
from whom, I have the vanity to say, I rather looked for amusement and
information, than guidance and protection.
My friends endeavoured to dissuade me from this arduous undertaking, and
when, after fully deciding upon the measure, I inquired in what way it
was customary for others to make the ascent, replied, “Oh! they could
_see_ their way up.” “Well, then,” I retorted, “I have little doubt of
being able to _feel_ mine.” I must acknowledge myself annoyed by having
suggestions of difficulties persisted in, which, I feel sensible in my
own bosom, do not insuperably exist; nor can I admit any person, not in
the same situation with myself, capable of estimating the powers, which,
under the curtailment of one sense, another, in consequence, acquires.