THE CAMPO SANTO--CHURCHES--THE MISERERE--CURIOUS
SCULPTURE--AGNANO--GROTTO DEL CANE--FROGS--POZZUOLO--CAVE
OF THE SYBIL--HOT SPRINGS--BOILED EGGS--HOT SAND--NO END OF
PHENOMENA--BAIÆ--VESUVIUS--RESINA--THE HERMITAGE--FATIGUING
ASCENT--THE CRATER--COMING DOWN WITH A RUN--THE “MONGIBELLO”--CIVITA
VECCHIA--ROME.
I devoted the remaining three or four days of my stay at Naples to a
round of sight-seeing, resigning myself with this purpose into the
hands of my _cicerone_ of the “New York.” I made frequent visits to
the Campo Santo, wishing to see whether any of the varied accounts
of the mode of sepulture there practised might accord with my own
observation. I witnessed the interment of some scores of persons, of
various ages and stations, and saw but little that could shock even a
very fastidious person. About six in the evening, the iron gates of
the walled inclosure are thrown open, and then may be seen arriving,
either in plain hearses, at a rapid trot, or on the shoulders of some
stout porter, the simple wooden coffins containing the dead. These are
first carried within the little chapel at the gate, where a short mass
is said, and then placed contiguous to the mouth of the particular
pit about to be opened, there being one for every day in the year. No
sorrowing relations are to be seen: they have paid the last tribute of
respect to the deceased ere the coffin had left the house of mourning,
and do not unnecessarily prolong their grief, by following the remains
to the grave. The square stone secured with mortar, which covers the
mouth of the pit, is now removed with the aid of a powerful lever,
and an attendant drops in the bodies, one by one, never omitting to
throw in after them the little wreath of flowers with which each
is accompanied. Fresh mortar is then brought, and the stone firmly
fastened down for another year; the coffins, which are again and again
to serve the same purpose, are then carried away, and the ceremony of
interment is concluded.
The churches of Naples are particularly well worth visiting, though to
go the round of the whole three hundred, would require a greater amount
of patience than I possess, and I succeeded, moreover, so badly in an
attempt to hear the famed Miserere in the church of the Conservatorio,
that my sight-seeing determination received a severe check. By dint
of a great amount of pushing and squeezing through a dense mass of
people, I managed eventually to secure standing-room, at a considerable
distance from the choir, from which position I was soon compelled to
retreat by reason of the suffocating heat, and peculiar Neapolitan
odours, having lost nothing, except my handkerchief and the whole of
Zingarelli’s sublime composition. For a clever pickpocket, commend me
to the _gamin de Naples_, who will contrive, even in broad daylight,
to ease a stranger of every thing worth stealing. After the loss of
three handkerchiefs, I found that my only safeguard was to go entirely
without one.
But to return to the churches, of which some will be found particularly
interesting in the way of pictures and valuable marbles. In the
cathedral of San Gennaro, are some matchless columns of Egyptian
granite, (covered over by the way for some purpose or other, with a
coating of stucco,) besides others of porphyry and cipollino, with
bronzes and valuable paintings. The chapel of San Severo is remarkable
for some specimens of sculpture, exhibiting a recumbent body covered
with a thin veil, so dexterously worked in marble, that the development
of the various muscles beneath the gauze is admirably managed, and
there is another figure still more extraordinary, of a man entangled
in a fine net. Here, the artist must have inserted his chisel between
the meshes, which come in contact with the body of the statue only in a
few places, the whole production evincing a vast amount both of skill
and labour.
There is so much to see and admire in Naples and its neighbourhood,
that I hardly knew which way to turn. I had yet to visit Baiæ, and
the western shore of the Bay, whilst each time that my eyes rested on
Vesuvius, I was reminded of an additional obligation. These, however,
were scenes which I had no desire to visit alone, having always been of
opinion, that the pleasures of travelling are materially enhanced by
agreeable society, and though it may be all very pleasant to shoulder a
knapsack, and walk a hundred miles on end with no other companion than
one’s own thoughts, the charms of lake and mountain are not the less
fully appreciated when shared by an intelligent fellow-traveller. Such
was my friend P----s, upon whom I stumbled one evening in the Toledo,
and a proposal on his part to visit Baiæ on the morrow, was hailed by
me with pleasure.
The carriage of my host of the “York,” was again put in requisition,
and quitting Naples, _di buon ora_, we rattled merrily through the
Grotto of Posilipo, and then taking the dusty road to the right,
reached the simmering lake of Agnano. Close by its shore is the famed
Grotto del Cane, where of course we paid the fee, entitling us to
reduce an unlucky hound to a state of syncope. Indeed, the poor animal
seemed so habituated to the cruel infliction, that he sneezed and
kicked himself back into life in the most good-humoured way imaginable,
and ran away with a big bit of bread in his mouth to keep up his
spirits until the arrival of some other party. The gaseous vapour,
which has the same effect upon the nasal organs as when a bottle of
soda-water is swallowed too hastily, rises to a height of eighteen
inches above the floor of the little cavern. The poor dog is firmly
held by the feet within the gas until he has ceased to move, and is
then laid upon the grass outside, where the fresh air speedily restores
him. The ground in the immediate neighbourhood of the lake is alive
with small frogs, which jump about by hundreds at every foot-fall, and
appear to thrive wonderfully well upon the noxious vapours with which
the region abounds. Here are also some vapour-baths of great efficacy
in chronic cases, and I believe they are much resorted to.
Returning to the road, we reached anon the ancient Pozzuolo, or place
of wells, romantically situated upon the shore. The ruins of the city
may be clearly observed beneath the blue water of the bay, which would
seem to have encroached upon it suddenly, whilst on the other hand the
earthquake has not been idle, the whole of the town having been more
than once laid in ruins. Here are the remains of an amphitheatre of
prodigious dimensions, with ruined villas, bridges and temples. As we
passed through the town, our vehicle was besieged by a clamorous posse
of young ruffians, laden with antiques of all sorts, both genuine and
modern, who clambered upon the steps and wheels, and got up behind and
before in their anxiety to relieve us of a few carlini in return for
their terra-cottas. Our coachman’s whip was the only argument they
would listen to, and having thus got quit of them, we skirted once more
along the Gulf. Each fresh turn in the road disclosed views of the
most enchanting character, saving where the beauty of the landscape
was marred by the unsightly presence of an immense gang of _forzati_,
or galley slaves, working at the repairs of the roadway. On our right
arose the bare volcanic hill of 1538, with the vine-covered mountains
embosoming the once dismal Avernus, now famed for the excellence of its
trout, whilst sky-larks, and others of the feathered tribe, “warble
o’er” it with impunity. Beneath us, Procida and Ischia, rising from the
blue and motionless bosom of the bay, glittered in the noon-day sun.
A little bye-road leads to the lake and the Grotto of the Sybil, a
spot deservedly celebrated by Virgil, in _his_ day, but now infested
by a lot of lazy fellows, who gain their livelihood by showing the
subterranean chambers of the rock. Here we fell in with a party of our
fair country-women, who for the last half-hour had been splashing about
under-ground, in the brawny grasp of these uncouth ruffians, stifled
with the smoke of torches, and sorely frightened at the echoing sound
of the dark waters through which they had been hurried. It is needless
to add that they had _seen_ nothing, and indeed their report of the
expedition was so very far from tempting us, that we regained our
carriage with what haste we could.
Within a quarter of a mile of this spot, in the face of a high cliff
overhanging the road, is another remarkable cavern, forming the
entrance to a series of hot springs. Owing to the heat pervading
the several corridors, which increases in intensity the farther you
penetrate inwards, we found it impossible to get any great distance,
but the old fellow in charge, who seemed to have sweated himself
down almost to a skeleton, took in with him a couple of raw eggs,
and returned with them very nicely boiled! not at all appearing to
mind having undergone a similar process in his own person. We agreed,
however, that the poor old man had well (not to say _honestly_) earned
the trifling present we gave him, and begging him not to expose himself
to the risk of catching cold, by showing us out into the scorching
sun, we left him to his eggs and _dripping_. And now we fondly hoped
that we had seen the last phenomenon of this sulphureous district;
but no, we were again mistaken. On making our exit from Nero’s ovens,
we were escorted by a party of juvenile exhibitors down to the margin
of the sea, where, forcing our hands through the cold water into the
sand beneath, we found _it_ also at boiling point! This, with the
distribution of a few _grani_, closed the entertainments of the morning.
On reaching Baiæ, we deemed it advisable to make a call at its little
road-side Osteria, where we lunched on a queer-coloured omelette, and
some Capri wine, our table being spread in a little raised gallery
outside the house. From hence the view over the bay was very lovely, so
much so indeed, that we were loth to quit the spot, and decided upon
finishing our day’s ramble in exploring the ruins hard by, and climbing
the hills above us, for the sake of a more extended prospect. In the
cool of the evening we returned to Naples.
Being now anxious to proceed towards Rome, I determined that the last
night but one of my stay at Naples should be devoted to the ascent of
Vesuvius. Three of us quitted the city at dusk in a carriage, which
was engaged to take us to Resina, and there await our return. Old
François bore us company, in order to take care of our provisions
and over-coats, which are both essential to the comfort of the
undertaking. By the time we arrived at the little hostelry, where our
vehicle was to give place to a set of saucy mules, it was quite dark,
and the disposition of the little party, as we equipped ourselves by
torch-light in the court-yard, formed a striking picture. We took
plenty of guides, more perhaps than were necessary, but there is
nothing like being upon the safe side, and sufficient light is a great
desideratum whilst picking your way in the dead of night, over the
execrable road worn amid the broken masses of lava and scoriæ, which
cover the base of the mountain. A few hours of weary riding, of which
the monotony was only broken by the stumbling of some sleepy guide,
and consequent extinction of his torch, or by our own exclamations
of surprise and wonder, as a more than ordinary shower of stones was
discharged with a rushing noise from the still distant crater, brought
us to the little halting-place, called the Hermitage. The night was
bitterly cold, and there was a considerable breeze stirring, so that
we hailed the welcome shelter with a shout of pleasure, and jumping
off our mules, were soon extended on the homely couches in its little
supper-room, whilst François busied himself in boiling a dozen or
two of eggs. I was so tired by the rough jolting pace of the animal
that had fallen to my lot, that I was no sooner seated than I sank
into sleep. My companions, however, had possessed themselves of the
visitors’ book, replete, as usual, with all manner of absurdities, and
their merriment effectually spoilt my nap.
Our supper finished, we again summonsed our guides, who armed us each
with an iron-shod pole, and thus equipped, we commenced the long
up-hill walk, which leads to the more immediate base of the mountain.
It required extreme caution to avoid coming in contact with the blocks
of broken lava, and as we neared the steeper ground, we discovered
that we had a severe task to accomplish, the flaring beacon above
shedding upon us, at intervals, a faint bluish light, reminding us
most unpleasantly of the amount of labour we had still to undergo.
My guide now took hold of one end of the pole, bidding me to hold on
tight at the other, and in this way we scrambled over a mile or more of
outrageously large cinder-heaps, among which I pitched and floundered
about in a way that threatened to dislocate every joint in my body. All
this while we were rapidly ascending (barring the many falls we got,)
and daylight began to break upon us as we approached the outer edge of
the crater. Hearing a sort of joyous shout from the advanced guard of
our party, I made a desperate stagger onwards, and fell suddenly into a
charming little gully between two enormous cinders. Never did rest upon
a feather-bed appear more welcome, than did mine at that moment upon
the rugged spot where I had fallen. My attentive guide now approached
his flaring torch to within six inches of my face, and finding that I
was in a state of profuse perspiration, he insisted upon putting me on
my legs again, promising me a fair time for recruiting a little further
on. To have suffered me to lie there, would indeed have been a mistaken
kindness.
I now joined the rest of my party, and found that we were at the
summit, or in other words, on a level with the internal surface of
the crater, leaving only the edge of the basin to be surmounted. The
glorious spectacle which now greeted us, was one which we must ever
remember. From the cone, there poured forth a continuous stream of
fire, with every now and then a terrific discharge of red-hot stones,
bursting upwards with a fearful rushing sound. This treble, if I may so
term it, was accompanied by a rumbling bass like thunder, from the very
bowels of the mountain, forming a combination of sounds wonderfully
grand and awful. The red-hot masses of lava fell for the most part
upon the outer surface of the cone, from which we were distant about a
furlong, and rolled downwards into the crater. We were of course upon
the windward side of Vesuvius, a precaution always borne in mind by the
guides. As it was, some of the stones fell very near us, whenever the
wind shifted to an opposite quarter, which was often the case, and at
such times, their clatter as they fell upon the surface of the crater,
was sufficiently alarming.
As soon as daylight had fairly dawned, we ventured upon the sea of
hot lava which lay before us, sufficiently encrusted and cooled at
the surface, to admit of our doing so with safety, though the placing
of one’s feet required care, as any slip on our parts might have
been attended with unpleasant consequences. Every now and then we
had to cross some narrow fissure in the molten lava, produced by the
contraction of the surface. Into these we thrust our poles and sticks,
which came out again in a blaze. Being disgusted with the heat and
sulphurous odours which assailed us on all sides, we were meditating
a return to the point from whence we had started, when a change in
the wind sent a shower of combustibles so alarmingly near us, that we
retreated as quickly as we could, scrambling and falling about among
the uncouth masses of lava, in a manner that under other circumstances,
would have been highly amusing. In the present case, however, _sauve
qui peut_, seemed the order of the day, and no one looked back to help
his less fortunate companion.
At the edge of the crater we sat down to rest ourselves, preparatory
to once more descending to the level of our fellow-mortals. I had, in
my ignorance, supposed that we should return by the same path which
we had taken in making the ascent, and was therefore surprised when
our guides conducted us to the top of an immense cinder-shoot, looking
like the combined siftings of all the cinders we had ever seen. Having
deliberately given us our instructions, guide No. 1 made a sort of
plunge forward, and with one single gigantic stride, cleared a space
of some twenty feet of ground, and repeating this novel species of
step, was presently out of hearing. No. 2 followed in his wake, and
we after him, and once fairly started, pulling up was a difficult
matter. After near a quarter of a mile of this work, I became aware of
something wrong in the region of my boots, which had long been filled
with fine cinders, productive of much uneasiness. There was no help
for it however. Downwards we all went, with a gradually accelerating
motion, and I was beginning to calculate on the certainty of losing
my equilibrium in the course of another dozen strides or so, when I
was suddenly brought up hard and fast against the broad back of one of
the guides, and congratulated by my companions upon my safe arrival.
Now for the first time I was able to look upwards, and certainly was
greatly astonished at the quantity of ground we had traversed in
so short a space of time. Here we emptied our shoes of the cinders
accumulated in our progress, but as for myself, I was spared half
the trouble of this operation, by finding the ample calf of one of
my Maltese boots, lodged at my knee-cap, having been separated from
the corresponding portion, now transformed into a shoe, by the
unfair ordeal to which it had been subjected. As we had descended by
a more distant part of the mountain, our walk to the Hermitage was
proportionably longer, and I believe we were all heartily wearied
by our nocturnal expedition. The mule-ride back to Resina seemed
interminably long, and it was only after a warm-bath and an interval
of refreshing sleep, that I could overcome the effects of my unwonted
exertions.
Having engaged a berth in the “Mongibello” steam-packet, for Civita
Vecchia, I got my passport properly signed, and repaired on board,
taking care to see that my portmanteau was carefully consigned to
the hold. This done, I stole away to my berth to secure a nap, and
avoid the bustle and confusion of starting, and was already busily
dreaming of cinders and lava, when I was rudely awakened and summonsed
before a party of police on deck, to answer to my name, which had been
repeatedly called without eliciting any reply. This formality over, I
turned in once more, and at ten o’clock the next morning found myself
in the harbour of Civita Vecchia. At the Dogana here, my effects were
_plombés_, and again had my passport to undergo a visè, whilst my
pocket contributed its mite to the coffers of his Holiness the Pope.
I found a diligence about to start for Rome, and had just time to
swallow a hot omelette, before squeezing myself in with the conductor
in front. This was a highly amusing fellow, and although I could
scarcely put together ten words of Italian, we managed to keep up a
tolerably animated conversation. He was particularly pleased with
my Egyptian sword, which he insisted on keeping constantly drawn,
flourishing it now and then out of the open window, to intimidate
certain imaginary banditti, at times skirmishing with the driver aloft,
who showed fight with his whip-handle. About dusk, we reached the Holy
City.