Excursion to Tivoli—Sulphur baths—Memories—Temple of the Sybil—River Anio—Lovely scenery—Back to Rome—Post-office—Careless officials—The everlasting "Weed"—Climate of Rome—Discomforts and disappointments—Young Italy—Leo XIII.—Italian Politics—Cessation of Brigandage—The new city—American church—Italian Times—Departure for Naples—Regrets—The Three Taverns—A picturesque route—Naples by night.
Excursion to Tivoli—Sulphur baths—Memories—Temple of the Sybil—River Anio—Lovely scenery—Back to Rome—Post-office—Careless officials—The everlasting "Weed"—Climate of Rome—Discomforts and disappointments—Young Italy—Leo XIII.—Italian Politics—Cessation of Brigandage—The new city—American church—Italian Times—Departure for Naples—Regrets—The Three Taverns—A picturesque route—Naples by night.
"'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,Bright foaming falls, and olive shades,Where dwelt in days departed longThe sons of battle and of song,No tree, no shrub, its foliage rearsBut o'er the wrecks of other years,Temples and domes, which long have beenThe soil of that enchanted scene.There the wild fig tree and the vineO'er Hadrian's mouldering Villa twine;The cypress in funeral graceUsurps the vanished column's place;O'er fallen shrine and ruined friezeThe wall-flower rustles in the breeze;Acanthus leaves the marble hideThey once adorned in sculptured pride;And Nature hath resumed her throneO'er the vast works of ages flown."
"'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,Bright foaming falls, and olive shades,Where dwelt in days departed longThe sons of battle and of song,No tree, no shrub, its foliage rearsBut o'er the wrecks of other years,Temples and domes, which long have beenThe soil of that enchanted scene.There the wild fig tree and the vineO'er Hadrian's mouldering Villa twine;The cypress in funeral graceUsurps the vanished column's place;O'er fallen shrine and ruined friezeThe wall-flower rustles in the breeze;Acanthus leaves the marble hideThey once adorned in sculptured pride;And Nature hath resumed her throneO'er the vast works of ages flown."
One morning we took the steam tramcar to Tivoli. I think there was one first and one second-class carriage attached to the locomotive. We travelled at the rate of about nine miles an hour, Tivoli, sometwenty miles off, situated right up among the beautiful distant hills, being reached in about an hour and a half. Here the wealthy Romans used to go to enjoy the beauty of Nature, and to rest after the cares of State.
We first came to the great sulphur baths about half-way. The white sulphurous stream was employed to turn a wheel for cutting slate or marble, and thence flowed into large and handsome buildings to supply the baths. A few ladies got out here to enjoy the luxury, and await the return of the train to Rome. Then away we went again till we reached the next station, Villa Adriana, once a splendid palace of the Emperor Hadrian's, now an extensive circle of overgrown ruins. It embraced everything beautiful in art and nature which its founder had seen and collected in the course of his expeditions, and was altogether three miles long and one wide: it comprised a great Lyceum, an Academy, an Egyptian Serapeon, a Vale of Tempe, several theatres, baths, barracks, hippodrome, etc., the sites of which can be pretty easily traced. The statuary and marbles found here are now dispersed among different museums. Two English ladies got out to sketch, sending their servants on to Tivoli to prepare their lodgings. We proceeded upwards, winding through groves of beautiful sombre olives, the light shining on their silvery-tinted leaves; and as we wound round the sharp curves we caught the full beauty of the great plains below, discovering every moment some new and lovelyprospect over the Campagna; Rome lying far away in the distance, and the mountains towering above our heads. The Romans were right in seeking this beautiful retreat as their summer abode. Yes, this is Tivoli—the ancient Tibur, the favourite resort of Scipio, Æmilianus, Marius, Mæcenas, and other great and eminent men. Augustus and Horace came here to visit Mæcenas; and here, too, Queen Zenobia spent a pleasant banishment.
At length we came to the end of our journey, and entered the Tivoli station, where there were plenty of carriages and guides awaiting us. We lingered at one gap in the mountains, through which there was a most magnificent view of the country around. Just below we saw some old ruins which had evidently been turned into a factory of some kind—the property, I believe, of the Napoleon family. Then we went to an hotel, high up on the brow of the cliff, on the ruined site of the ancient Sibyl's Temple. There are still some fine columns standing, under which we sat for a time to admire the lovely and romantic scenery, the beautiful grottoes in the abysses and glens below, in the valley of the Anio. Only ten of the eighteen Corinthian pillars of this temple now remain. Soane has imitated this architectural relic at the Moorgate Street corner of the Bank of England. Lord Bristol would have brought the original to London had he been allowed to remove it.
Around on the heights, one is told, "There wasMæcenas' villa, there Sallust's, and there Horace's," but I believe the truth is doubtful, though the positions are such as might have been chosen for their commanding beauty.
Nearly opposite the Temple of the Sibyl, and across this romantic chasm, the river Anio tumbles over the cliffs in a magnificent volume of water, throwing out beautiful rainbows across the glen by its radiated vapour:
"The green steep whence Anio leapsIn floods of snow-white foam."
"The green steep whence Anio leapsIn floods of snow-white foam."
Lower down there is another smaller stream, and the two form tumultuous rapids among the rocks below, ultimately finding their way through a vast cavern-like opening to the plains of the Campagna, and probably at last find the Tiber. There is a zigzag pathway leading down to the deep valley, and we stood so close to the basin into which the water fell that we were covered with the spray and almost deafened by the roar. All around the sides of this glen, inside the numerous caves, and among the jutting rocks were most beautiful maidenhair ferns; and on the mossy terraces and banks, violets and lilies grew in luxuriant profusion. The violets were exceedingly large and full of perfume, and we found, on pulling some of them up, that they had immense bulbs; we took some of the delicate little ferns and violet bulbs away as mementoes of this lovely spot—[F]
"Where little caves were wreathed[141]So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem'dLarge honeycombs of green, and freshly teemedWith airs delicious."
"Where little caves were wreathed[141]So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem'dLarge honeycombs of green, and freshly teemedWith airs delicious."
We thought perhaps these violets and lilies were planted originally by the hands of some fair Roman maiden or matron centuries ago.
The Anio has most extraordinary petrifying properties. We saw whole trunks of trees petrified like rocks, and our guide gave me a mass of stones and leaves perfectly solid, but with every vein and stem beautifully defined and marked. This enchanting series of glens and grottoes was most probably the work of the distinguished Romans who resided here, and employed their leisure in improving the natural beauties of the place.
We had not time to visit the Cathedral and other buildings of interest. The former was built on the ruins of the Temple of Hercules, which once stood there. The Church of the Madonna di Quintiliolo is near the remains of the villa of Quintilius Varus, on a hill facing that of Mæcenas. Near the Roman gate are remains of an octagon temple or tomb, known as Tosse; there is a Roman bridge near Ponte Celio, also a fine old castle built by Pius II. Massive remains of the Claudian aqueduct are to be seen here and there. The tramcar train was ready to start on the return journey at about 3.30, so we were obliged to leave this beautiful and interesting place. We got back to Rome at about 5.30. This was a most enjoyable excursion, and we should have beenglad to remain longer, but it was our last day in the Eternal City, which we were now leaving with regret.
The Post and Telegraph Offices at Rome are beautifully situated; the walls are frescoed with Italian art, and overlook a square of tropical gardens. Altogether it seemed more like an Arcadian Temple than a post-office. I found by experience that this was so, for, although I had given the name of our hotel for all letters to be forwarded to me, I was greatly annoyed to find a large budget had been awaiting me for some days, especially as it included a telegram from London. I fancy that the everlasting "weed" has much to do with this dreamy forgetfulness of important duty. Even in the Government department the cigarette seems as necessary as the pen; from morning till night it is rarely laid aside.
Some of the hotels in Rome we thought very expensive; but the Hotel de Ville is moderate, comfortable, and altogether satisfactory.
We found the weather too chilly to be pleasant at that time of the year, and there was a fair quantity of rain, usually lasting about two days; but the atmosphere was generally fresh and healthy, and some days were warm, bright, and sunny. I should think February, March, and early April the most agreeable months to spend there. The mornings are the best part of the day: excursions to various places of interest should be accomplished by 4 p.m.
I fancy many travellers expose themselves to fever, and other ills, by neglecting to take propernourishment at regular hours—in their forgetfulness of health—when occupied in "sight-seeing." They should make it a rule to commence the day by a good substantial breakfast, instead of the French coffee and rolls in their bedroom, as is mostly the custom; at midday, always taking care to have luncheon at their hotel or the nearestcafé. Again, they cannot be too particular about overcoats and other warm garments; for the marble-paved, unwarmed churches are extremely chilling, and so are even the streets on the shady side, at this time of the year (January). There is little doubt that Papal and Old Rome, where most of the visitors reside, is over-crowded and badly drained, and hence subject to typhoid and other fevers. It is therefore to be hoped that they will prefer the more healthful and modern quarter of the city, New Italy, near the railway station. Under any circumstances, they cannot be too careful as to the water they drink being properly filtered.
The bulk of the inhabitants live closely packed between the Corso and the Tiber, some in fine palaces, splendid indeed, yet with little comfort, the rest in small and miserable dwellings. These latter, at least, will doubtless disappear in time as the population gradually become aware of the expediency of rebuilding this quarter of the city, some parts of which offer striking contrasts of gorgeous splendour and squalid misery. Whiteside, speaking of a traveller's impression on arriving at Rome, says, "Whithersoeverhe turns his eager steps he is alternately delighted and disgusted: the majestic remains of a great antiquity he wishes to examine with accuracy, but he stands in the midst of inconceivable filth. He turns to the churches, sacred in the eyes of Christians, but not safe from defilement in the City of Churches. He notes on the map numerous piazze, which he imagines to be fine squares, clean, if not splendid; and he observes, with few exceptions, that they resemble waste ground reserved for the rubbish of a great city."
It is pleasant to turn to the long-deserted Eastern quarter of Rome, where an entirely new city is being erected since the Italian occupation. We may yet hope to see Rome worthy of her past greatness.
"His Holiness" Pope Leo XIII. has lately issued, from his small isolated world within the walls of the Vatican, a most extraordinary letter, addressed to Cardinal Antonius di Luca, John Baptiste Petra, and Joseph Herzenroether, in which he shows the world at large that he has no eye for anything but the claims of the Church, and would fain have mankind believe that the temporal government of the Popes has been an unappreciated blessing, and far superior to that of any other, and to the present government of United Free Italy under the constitutional sway of King Humbert, in particular. Since 1859 the Italians of what was once known as the States of the Church, have been deprived of this great blessing of the Pontifical rule, and with what dire results let us examine.
During the period between the expulsion of King Bombina from the throne of the two Sicilies by the Garibaldians, and the evacuation of the Eternal City by the French in 1870, a brigand warfare was carried on, if not under the immediate auspices of the Pope and his Cardinals, at least with their secret support and connivance. Now, after little more than a decade of constitutional rule, brigandage has almost disappeared from the face of the land, and travellers are comparatively safe.
When Victor Emmanuel and the Italian troops entered Rome and took possession of it as the Capital of Italy, free from the Alps to Taranto, they found it a city of ruins, squalor, and hardly habitable in a sanitary point of view. Interesting, of course, to the traveller from its wealth of splendid relics of the past and vast treasures of art, but as undesirable for residence as the Upas Valley. Now what does the traveller see? A prosperous and happy population; a new city rapidly rising on the site of the ancient "Queen of the world," with all the conveniences, appliances, and luxuries of a modern European city. Magnificent new streets and boulevards, lined with buildings equal to any in Paris or London—streets traversed by tramways, and brilliantly lighted by gas; with shops and magazines, as in other great continental capitals. An energetic Government and municipality have planned and are carrying out vast improvements, that bid fair in a few years to render modern Rome not only equal to the Rome of theCæsars in beauty and magnificence, but as desirable a residence from a sanitary point of view as any other city of its size.
It is proposed to embank the famous old Tiber; and already the squalid quarter of the Ghetto has been invaded by the workmen, who are levelling the wretched dwellings that have for so many ages rendered its name a byword throughout the world, preparatory to the erection of new buildings. So greatly has Rome already improved, that instead of travellers paying it a hurried visit merely for the sake of its art treasures, and hastening away as from a plague-stricken city, great numbers of English and Americans make it their head-quarters for many months. Both countries have now their own churches, a fact above all others proving the vast change that has taken place since Italy has been free from foreign and papal yokes. King Humbert observed, that no greater proof of the faith England and America had in the stability of Italian constitution could be given, than the building of these churches. Not only have the Anglo-Saxons their churches in Rome, but their newspaper also; and theItalian Times, a weekly paper printed in English and published in Rome, is another evidence of what Italian freedom now is. This paper, which is a staunch advocate of all improvements, especially to those relating to sanitation, boldly takes for its motto—"Independent in all things, neutral in none."
When all the contemplated improvements arecarried out, there will be no more delightful or healthy residence for six or eight months in the year than this poor unfortunate city of Rome, that has been for the last dozen years deprived of the blessings(?) of Pontifical and Cardinalite government.
Happy indeed would be the condition of our own poor unhappy Ireland could she also cast off the bondage and evil influences of the Papacy; for then her gifted people would become industrious, intelligent and loyal subjects, as the Protestant communities of Ireland are.
We found our nine days' visit all too short; it was but a race and scamper at best, and we regretted our inability to visit all the objects of interest in this city of museums and art galleries. The days at Rome are very short, as most places where there is an entrance-fee (and there are few without), are only open between the hours of ten and three. This may be a profitable arrangement for the doorkeepers, but it is difficult to see much in five hours.
The morning of our departure from Rome arrived at last, and we sighed at the thoughts of having missed so much, and seen so little.
"The grandeur of RomeCould I leave it unseen, and nor yield to regret?With a hope (and no more) for a season to comeWhich ne'er may discharge the magnificent debt?Thou fortunate region! whose greatness inurned,Awoke to new life from its ashes and dust;Twice-glorified fields! if in sadness I turnedFrom your infinite marvels, the sadness was just."
"The grandeur of RomeCould I leave it unseen, and nor yield to regret?With a hope (and no more) for a season to comeWhich ne'er may discharge the magnificent debt?Thou fortunate region! whose greatness inurned,Awoke to new life from its ashes and dust;Twice-glorified fields! if in sadness I turnedFrom your infinite marvels, the sadness was just."
Ancient Roma and the remains of her past greatnesswill ever be impressed upon our memories. An empire once so mighty, the Mistress of the World; then for so long desolate and entombed, a city of ruins; and now, phœnix-like, rising rapidly from her ashes, and preparing as "Young Italy" to take her place as a power among the other nations of Europe, many of whom have already welcomed her as a sister.
On the morning of the 26th of January we left Rome for Naples, some 163 miles by railway.
For many miles we travelled almost in a direct line, and on a level plain through the Campagna, close to one of the great aqueducts, and with the Via Appia always following in the distance, until we passed the first station, Gaimpino, when we crossed this fine old Roman road, and wound round the base of the hills. We saw an almost endless succession of ruins—the tombs of Pompey, Dominician, and many others of the conquerors and arbiters of the world in bygone times. Then through Albano and Curioli, from which Coriolanus obtained his famous surname. Among the hills we caught glimpses every now and then of the Campagna, bright with heather; and sometimes, also, of the blue sea beyond.
We next passed through Civita Lavinia, near the site of Lanuvium, the birthplace of Antoninus Pius. The Via Appia here strikes across the Pontine marshes. Velletri, the site of an old city of the Volscians, and the birthplace of Augustus, ispicturesquely situated half-way up Monte Arriano in the Alban Hills. Its raised walls were built by Coriolanus. Here the railway, leaving the old route towards the Naples frontier and along the Appian Way, strikes inland among the hills. Not far from this spot, on the old Appian coach road, is "Tres Tabernæ," or "Three Taverns," where St Paul met the brethren after his landing at Puteoli. This old road is so full of interest, that we hope to be able to travel by it more leisurely on a future occasion—especially as brigandage, once a common occurrence, is now a thing of the past, since Italy is under a strong and honest government.
The whole route is grandly picturesque, circling round mountains and hills, and through romantic passes; churches and towers finely pinnacled on the summits and situated here and there on the slopes. The ancient Romans made these places their summer residences, enclosing the wild and wooded parts as hunting-grounds, and the more beautiful spots near the shore as luxurious health resorts.
Travelling as usual second-class, and therefore by a slow train, the journey was rather long.En routewe were allowed ample time for luncheon at one of the stations. In a former chapter, I mentioned how greatly wanting in necessary comfort the French railway stations were, especially for ladies. Here in Italy I think it is, if possible, worse still. It is really a scandal and disgrace that, while reaping so much benefit from the stream of visitors from every part ofthe world, proper accommodation is not provided for them. This is really a great evil, and should certainly be attended to by the proper authorities without delay.
After eight hours' journey we came through a bold pass suddenly in full view of the sea coast, then wound round towards Naples from the south. In the dusk of the evening, we looked forth to see—
"How night hath hushed the clamour and the stirOf the tumultuous streets. The cloudless moonRoofs the whole city as with tiles of silver;The dim mysterious sea in silence sleeps;And straight into the air Vesuvius liftsHis plume of smoke."
"How night hath hushed the clamour and the stirOf the tumultuous streets. The cloudless moonRoofs the whole city as with tiles of silver;The dim mysterious sea in silence sleeps;And straight into the air Vesuvius liftsHis plume of smoke."
[F]Many of these are now flourishing with friends in North Wales.
[F]Many of these are now flourishing with friends in North Wales.
Naples—Bristol Hotel—Via Roma—King Bomba's time—Deterioration of the Neapolitans—Museum—Churches—The Opera-house—English and Italian beauty—Aquarium—Vesuvius—Excursion to Pompeii—Portici—A novel mode of grooming—The entombed city—Its disinterment—Museum, streets, and buildings—Remarks—A cold drive.
Naples—Bristol Hotel—Via Roma—King Bomba's time—Deterioration of the Neapolitans—Museum—Churches—The Opera-house—English and Italian beauty—Aquarium—Vesuvius—Excursion to Pompeii—Portici—A novel mode of grooming—The entombed city—Its disinterment—Museum, streets, and buildings—Remarks—A cold drive.
The first thing we experienced on reaching Naples was the inveterate habit of begging and cheating among the lower classes. Our carriage-driver began by asking three times the amount of the usual fare for driving us to our hotel, and the whole of the way along never once desisted from trying to persuade us that we must pay what he had asked, and perhaps a little more. There was another fellow seated by him on the box, evidently a "hanger-on" and friend of his, who had come with the hopes that we should believe he had carried our luggage to the carriage, and was therefore entitled to something. These Neapolitan beggars are as importunate and persistent as a swarm of gnats, and it is almost impossible to get rid of them; however, on reaching the hotel, I requested our landlord to pay the driver the right fare, and so got quit of the nuisance for that time at least.It is a good plan, as a rule, for travellers to let the landlord of the hotel arrange for their carriage hire.
We found "the Bristol" a very comfortable hotel, and happily secured a room on the third floor, with a verandah. The situation being on high ground above the town, on the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele, we had a fine view of the whole of the city and harbour below, the glorious bay beyond, and the great smoking Vesuvius on our left. There were several other hotels on the same heights, and also a comfortable pension establishment kept by a Scotch lady. I believe this is considered the healthiest part of Naples.
The weather opened finely the next morning; the sky a pretty pale blue, and the sea calm and beautiful. The bay stretching boldly round on either side; the city clustering on the shores and up the slopes of the hills, the busy harbour lying in the foreground, terraced gardens all around;—
"And yonder, see! as if in throes of death,—Vesuvius wreaths her foul Plutonic breath."
"And yonder, see! as if in throes of death,—Vesuvius wreaths her foul Plutonic breath."
Yet I must confess that on the whole I was disappointed. I thought of the lovely coast scenery around Monaco and Monte Carlo, and felt that they exceeded in beauty the famous bay before me. The fact is, some people rave about certain places without exactly knowing the reason why, simply because it happens to be the correct thing to do so. "See Naples and then die," is a common saying: we felt quite contented to "see Naples" and go on living.I cannot but think the place has been overrated, though I will admit that we did not see it at its best, and that perhaps in the full glow of a summer sun it may equal the rapturous descriptions that have been given of it. Certainly the beauties of Nature are not appreciated by all alike, mind and sentiment influencing us differently.
The English church was a few hundred feet below us, across the road, through the hotel gardens. This road is a new one, and extends some miles along the slope of the hills overlooking the town, and leads from the extreme end of the city right round to the other side of the coast promenade. The principal street is the Via Roma, where there are some fairly good shops. I should say that lambskin gloves, which seem a speciality, cameos, and corals are the only things worth buying here. Some of the cameos cut on the natural shell are very beautiful and unique.
Naples was an exceedingly gay city in the time of King Bomba, and as long as it was the seat of government. It is still said to be the gayest city in Italy, and there certainly seems to be a great pursuit after pleasure. Excepting with those who have business to look after, life scarcely begins till about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the carriages roll about, up the Via Roma, and along the Riviera di Chiaja, by the sea, which is the Rotten Row of Naples. In the time of Bomba's despotism the people really had little else to do than to amuse themselves, forthey had then practically no voice or interest in the government of the two Sicilies, and so became careless, luxurious, and indolent—content to live idly on their hereditary means, smoke, gossip, sip their chocolate, eat their macaroni, roll about in their carriages, and wind up their monotonous and useless day at their earthly paradise, the opera, where they gossiped and flirted to their hearts' content. In consequence of this manner of life, the men have become effeminate, and the women have little left of that characteristic grace and beauty that once so distinguished the Neapolitans.
So far as I have seen, in France, Italy, and elsewhere, I am proud of my own countrywomen. In grace, dignity, purity, and beauty, they are pre-eminent, morally, mentally, and physically: an Englishwoman only fulfils my idea of—
"A perfect woman, nobly planned,To warm, to comfort, and command;And yet a spirit still, and brightWith something of an angel light."
"A perfect woman, nobly planned,To warm, to comfort, and command;And yet a spirit still, and brightWith something of an angel light."
It was, therefore, with surprise that I gazed upon the canvases and statues of the old masters, and wondered where they obtained their exquisitely lovely models. From history we know that the women of Greece and Rome were noble specimens of their sex, and worthy of imitation; but if in later times, Correggio, Titian, and Fra Angelico, took their models from among their own countrywomen, how lamentably the present race must have deteriorated since their time!
The Museum of Naples is a very interesting one,and well repays a careful examination of its contents. Unfortunately it closes at four, but whenever we had an hour to spare during the day, we felt there could be no mistake in repairing thither. I believe it has not its equal in the world. Perhaps in statuary and painting the Vatican carries off the palm, but scarcely, I think, in other treasures. "Here are united the older and more recent collections belonging to the Crown; the Farnese collection from Rome and Parma; those of Portici and Capodimonte; and the excavated treasures of Herculaneum, Pompeii, Stabiæ, and Cumæ. These united collections now form one of the finest in the world: the Pompeiian antiquities and objects of art in particular, as well as the bronzes from Herculaneum, are unrivalled."
Here we saw theFarnese Bullgroup, the largest ancient piece of sculpture in Italy. We saw also theFarnese Hercules, a magnificent figure, and theGladiatorial Prize-fighters; both groups are wonderful portrayals of animal strength and manly courage. The mosaics and frescoes are very beautiful; and there are some wonderfully preserved Egyptian mummies, which, in their double casings or coffins, after two thousand years, still defy the ravages of time, the teeth and nails in many cases being quite perfect. The Pompeiian collection was especially interesting to us, perhaps because, although so ancient, their discovery has been of such comparatively recent date. Many of the bodies of those who perished have been wonderfully recovered and preserved in the veryposture in which death so suddenly overtook and entombed them some eighteen centuries ago. Every little detail of dress and drapery has been preserved in a really wonderful manner by Florelli's process of pouring liquid plaster into the mould formed by the lava in which the body was encased, and which had retained every line and fold of face and drapery; as soon as the plaster hardened, the mould was lifted off with the greatest precaution, and on the lava and ashes being removed, a perfect cast of the living figure it had once contained appeared.
We regarded these painful figures with deep and mournful interest. There was one of a woman, apparently of the poorer classes, who had been overtaken by the deadly shower while endeavouring to save a young girl, probably her daughter; the coarse texture of their raiment is distinctly visible, and the smooth, rounded arms of the little maid may be discerned through the rent sleeves. Another stately figure, evidently a Roman matron, has gathered together her little treasures, with which she hopes to escape; her draperies, disordered and caught up at one side, display limbs of sculptured beauty. An aged man—apparently an invalid from the thin and shrunken extremities—rests with his head leaning on his hand exactly as he was overtaken by the fearful storm of pumice and lava. These and many others were buried while yet alive, their features plainly telling of the agonizing thoughts that flashed across their minds at the moment of death, and every detailabout them telling of the hurriedness of their attempted flight.
The collection of old coins in this Museum, is, I believe, the finest in the world, and the cabinets of ancient gems and crystals are exceedingly beautiful. Then there is the library of papyri—rolls found at Herculaneum, and a perfect model of the city of Pompeii. There are also many other rooms full of interesting relics of the two unfortunate cities—wonderful works of art in crystal, stone, and bronze, much of which cannot even be imitated in the present day. Altogether this Museum is a very temple of ancient treasure, and should make us humble in the knowledge that we now possess.
We visited the Aquarium, which is quite unique in its way, and one of the finest in the world. Here, in a series of great glass tanks, we saw collected all the marvellous wonder and beauty of the great deep, every branch and species of sea creature from the coral and the sponge to the highest form of marine life. The most wonderful thing of all, we thought, and certainly the most novel to us, was a kind of animated purple thread, which spun itself out to such an extent that there was only a long cobweb left perceptible; this, floating about, after a time showed extraordinary muscular strength and energy, gathering itself together into a compact purple tassell or worm. The jelly-fish were also remarkably beautiful, with their graceful movements and purple glancing hues. This Aquarium certainly gave us a littlecomprehension of the marvellous beauty of oceanic life.
Of the 250 churches at Naples, few possess a great amount of interest, though some of them are well worth visiting. The Duomo San Gennaro, in the Strada del Duomo, is a large and handsome Cathedral. It is built on the sites of the temples of Neptune and Apollo, and contains several tombs of great men. It is here that the supposed miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius is "performed" twice or thrice a year.
One evening we went to the grand Teatro Reale di San Carlo, paying sixteen shillings for a couple ofPittickets. It is an immense house, supposed to be the largest in the world, gorgeously decorated, with six tiers of boxes, and capable of holding several thousand people. There was not a large audience, however, and as I looked round, eager to discover some of the living ideals of Italian loveliness, I was disappointed to find that but few of the Neapolitan ladies possessed any commanding grace or beauty, neither did their dress betoken much refinement of taste. As the theatre is the time and place for the fair sex to shine its brightest, I took this as a convincing proof that my previous strictures on Italian beauty were not unjust or uncharitable. The opera, which chanced to be "Lucia di Lammermoor," was very good, both vocally and instrumentally, and the dancing was clever and graceful, but to our English eye bordering on the immodest; the spectators, however,greatly applauded it, and probably they were the best judges.
Vesuvius smoked continually during the day, and occasionally shot forth lurid flames into the darkness of the night. We had a capital view of his volcanic performances from our hotel windows, and found it interesting to watch his eccentric ebullitions. Most of our fellow-travellers made the ascent, but as we did not intend to make any stay in Naples—my wife being anxious to pay a long-promised visit to her sister in Malta—we decided to defer the expedition to some future occasion, particularly as we wished to make an excursion to Pompeii, the collection at the museum having greatly interested us and aroused our curiosity. Nowadays the ascent of Vesuvius is no great climb; its four thousand feet are quickly traversed by the funicular railway, which takes visitors nearly the entire distance.
Up to this time the weather had been just comfortably warm, but suddenly the wind shifted to the north-east, and blew bitterly cold. Unfortunately, it was the very day of our proposed visit to Pompeii, and as it was our last day in Naples, we were unable to defer it for more favourable weather.
The drive is some eighteen miles, and no amount of rugs and wraps seemed to protect us from the piercing wintry wind, and keep us warm.
Circling round the southern part of the bay, which is very crowded and somewhat dirty, the sloping shores being lined with macaroni manufactories, wesoon passed through the ancient town of Portici, which was once a place of considerable importance, and possesses a royal palace built by Charles III., and adorned with pictures and frescoes from Pompeii, and a museum of statues, arms, bronzes, and furniture taken from the buried city. We next passed Herculaneum, and the town of Resina, which is built over it; Vesuvius and the hilly country on our left, and handsome suburban villas built on lava beds sloping down to the sea on our right. The road, being cut through the original stream of lava, was covered by the traffic with a thick white dust, which did not by any means conduce to our comfort, for the nipping wind blew it up into our faces in clouds, and the glare, caused by the occasional bursts of sunshine, was exceedingly trying to the eyes. We were not sorry to come to the end of our cold, two hours' journey, and find a cheerful wood fire blazing in the little Pompeiian restaurant by which to warm our half-frozen feet, and also something welcome in the way of refreshment. Our little wiry horse had certainly done his duty, and deserved our gratitude. We found the town pretty full of visitors who had driven up, and there were continual fresh arrivals. Therefore, we soon moved away to secure a guide to the erst entombed city. We had been much amused, watching the novel mode of refreshment indulged in by the active little animal that had so speedily brought us on our journey. He had been unharnessed and taken to a bare spot thickly covered with dark lava sand.This he seemed greatly to appreciate, for, after pawing the ground gratefully for a few moments, down he went, and commenced rolling himself over and over with great energy; by-and-by he rose like a giant refreshed, and fell to on his provender most voraciously. This scene reminded me of one I had often witnessed at the Cape of Good Hope, where sand is often similarly used as an excellent and economical substitute for grooming—the sand absorbs the perspiration, and is most refreshing to the poor beasts.
Passing up the hillside through a little plantation at the back of the restaurant, we soon came to the military station of specially selected soldiers, who have the care of the ruins and at the same time act as guides to the visitors. Fortunately, we chanced upon a very intelligent and obliging fellow, who spoke English fluently—a sergeant, who, without being loquacious, was sufficiently communicative to make an agreeable companion and cicerone.
Paying an entrance-fee of two lire each, we passed through the turnstile, and were soon quite absorbed in the ruins around us. The Italian Government, bearing all the expense of disentombing Pompeii, probably look to recoup themselves by the entrance-fees of the numerous visitors who flock to see the long-buried city.
We saw gangs of men and boys clearing away great mounds of pumice and dark lava mould from the ancient streets, which had not seen the light for eighteen centuries, and over which the vine hadbeen planted, and the corn had waved through many generations. It has been demonstrated by an examination of the older crater, that in the great eruption ofA.D.79 Vesuvius first threw up its superficial contents—and, in fact, the very crust of the mountain itself, which, being of a light friable nature, blew over to the more distant city of Pompeii, accompanied by showers of hot water—and it was after this first outbreak that a flood of molten lava poured in a torrent over the nearer city, and enfolded Herculaneum in a bed of rock. There is evidence that Pompeii had been warned of the impending disaster by an earthquake; we have no means yet of knowing whether Herculaneum received a similar warning, but the probability is that it was overwhelmed with awful suddenness.
Pompeii now reposes on an elevated grassy plain, partly encircled by fine ranges of hills, which on the eastern side stretch out towards Castellamare, and at the present time have one or two of their loftiest summits topped with snow. It is now some two or three miles from the sea, which is supposed to have receded at the time of the eruption, for Pompeii, when entombed, was a fashionable watering-place. It was here that Senator Livinius Regulus fixed his residence when banished from Rome in 59; and we learn from Suetonius, that the emperor Claudius had a villa here. He mentions it incidentally as the place where the Emperor's little son died in a singular manner: the child threw a pear up in the air, and caught itin his mouth, and, before any one could come to his assistance, died from choking.
Pompeii was rediscovered in 1748, by Don Rocca Alcubura, Spanish Colonel of Engineers. "Nearly seventeen centuries had rolled away when it was disinterred from its silent tomb, all vivid with undimmed hues—its walls fresh as if painted yesterday; scarcely a hue faded on the rich mosaic of its floors. In its forum the half-finished columns as left by the workman's hands, in its gardens the sacrificial tripod, in its halls the chest of treasure, in its baths the strigil, in its theatres the counter of admission, in its saloons the furniture and the lamp, in its triclinia the fragments of the last feast, in its cubicula the perfumes and the rouge of faded beauty—and everywhere the bones and skeletons of those who once moved the springs of that minute yet gorgeous machine of luxury and of life." The process of disentombment was not proceeded with very rapidly at first; it lingered on, in not too skilful hands, till Garibaldi appointed Alexandre Dumas as superintendent of the work in 1860. This, however, did not improve matters; the great novelist lived at Naples in first-rate style on the liberal income allowed him, and after one visit to the scene of operation, left the work to take care of itself. All was changed, however, under therégimeof Signor Florelli, who united the most enthusiastic interest in the work to eminent skill and unwearied patience. Since he undertook the management, the excavations have been made on a scale, and with a care, thatwill soon exhaust whatever objects still remain buried under the ashes.
Our guide first took us into the Museum, where we saw under glass cases some of the Pompeiian corpses, so wonderfully preserved by the plaster of Paris process, described in our visit to the Museum at Naples; also many other most interesting mementoes of the buried city, too numerous to mention. From thence we roamed out into the deserted streets:
"I stood within the city disinterred;And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfallsOf spirits passing through the streets; and heardThe Mountain's slumberous voice at intervalsThrill through those roofless walls."
"I stood within the city disinterred;And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfallsOf spirits passing through the streets; and heardThe Mountain's slumberous voice at intervalsThrill through those roofless walls."
The roofless state of the houses seems to have been caused, partly by the weight of matter which collected on them, and also from the fact of their being principally composed of wood, which was burnt by the red-hot stones that fell in showers from the burning mountain. There was, however, always sufficient of the building remaining to tell whether it had been a shop or a private residence, and, if the former, to distinguish what particular business had been carried on there: for instance, we found the bakers' ovens nearly perfect; while the wine-shops had great stone pitchers of the "Ali Baba" kind sunk into the counter, for cooling purposes, with the necks just showing above. The money-changers' shops were all marked by some such inscription as "Money is the thing worshipped here" (nothing new under the sun, thought I). Then there were the baths, arranged on the Roman principle(that which is erroneously known in the present day as the Turkish system), with rooms for graduated temperature, and all the conveniences for heating-places and niches for ointments and unguents, etc., to be used after the luxury of the bath. The private dwellings were most attractive, with their frescoed chambers, fountains, and open courts. Few of the houses had any windows; the light probably being admitted from the roof above, and reflected from the marble tanks of water in the centre of the court. But even under this hypothesis, I cannot help thinking the ancients had some other means of catching the light and diffusing it in their apartments, in some such manner as the Chappuis' reflectors we now use, though no certain evidence is yet forthcoming that they did so. There were places of amusement, and even places of vice, all distinctly noted: the Chalcidicum or Hall of Justice, the Street of the Tombs, Senate-houses, schools, Forums, and Temples, amphitheatres and coliseums—principally, of course, mere ruins, but still showing great beauty of design and finish. Most of the walls had evidently been veneered with marble about an inch or two thick; and there was, in some of the rooms, space left between the walls for heating purposes. It is said that at the time of the eruption Pompeii was still unfinished, indeed, that the preceding earthquake had interrupted the Romans in beautifying the city: there were pointed out to us several columns and buildings that had evidently been prepared for the veneering process,and never been completed. Many of the mosaic floors are in fine preservation, as are also the paintings and frescoes on the walls. One beautiful little shrine or grotto made of mosaics and shells is singularly interesting and unique.
The streets, which were all made on the slant for draining purposes, are very narrow, just wide enough for one carriage or chariot to pass up at a time. They are paved with lava stone, which is bleached white with the rain, and has been preserved so by its long entombment; here and there in the centre are raised oval stones, not interfering with the traffic, and affording convenient stepping-stones to foot-passengers during wet weather. When a chariot entered one of these streets, the word was quickly passed, to prevent another entering at the other end until it had gone through, and this was supposed to be the duty of the owners of the little shops on each side of the way.
On such a nipping day, it was impossible to help thinking how cold the place must have been with so much marble and cold water about; but the theory is, that the climate has very much changed since the days of Glaucus and Ione. When at Rome, our guide told us that even within his recollection the temperature there had altered considerably, and had become much colder.
It seemed a great pity to spend only a few hours among these most interesting ruins; but as we were obliged to get back to Naples by evening, to be ready for our departure for Sicily on the morrow, we didnot stop at Herculaneum on our return, as had been our intention; it was really so cold during the return drive that we were quite thankful when we sighted our hotel once more. We made a mental resolve, however, to pay a longer visit to Naples some day, and take our time over visiting the two buried cities and other places of interest that we were obliged to miss on the present occasion.