The Senator wiped his fevered brow. He thought that for crowds, noise, tumult, dash, hurry-skurry, gayety, life, laughter, joyance, and all that incites to mirth, and all that stirs the soul, even New York couldn't hold a candle to Naples.
Rabelais ought to have been a Neapolitan.
Then, as the city gradually faded into the country, the winding road opened up before them with avenues of majestic trees--overhanging, arching midway--forming long aisles of shade. Myrtles, that grew up into trees, scented the air. Interminable groves of figs and oranges spread away up the hill, intermingled with the darker foliage of the olive or cypress.
The mountains come lovingly down to bathe their feet in the sea. The road winds among them. There is a deep valley around which rise lofty hills topped with white villages or ancient towers, or dotted with villas which peep forth from amid dense groves. As far as the eye can reach the vineyards spread away. Not as in France or Germany, miserable sandy fields with naked poles or stunted bushes; but vast extents of trees, among which the vines leap in wild luxuriance, hanging in long festoons from branch to branch, or intertwining with the foliage.
"I don't know how it is," said the Senator, "but I'm cussed if I feel as if this here country was ground into the dust. If it is, it is no bad thing to go through the mill. I don't much wonder that these _I_talians don't emigrate. If I owned a farm in this neighborhood I'd stand a good deal of squeezin' before I'd sell out and go anywheres else."
At evening they reached Salerno, a watering-place the sea-coast, and Naples in miniature.
There is no town in Italy without its opera-house or theatre, and among the most vivid and most precious of scenic delights the pantomime commends itself to the Italian bosom. Of course there was a pantomime at Salerno. It was a mite of a house; on a rough calculation thirty feet by twenty; a double tier of boxes; a parquette about twelve feet square; and a stage of about two-thirds that size.
Yet behold what the ingenuity of man can accomplish! On that stage there were performed all the usual exhibitions of human passion, and they even went into the production of great scenic displays, among which a great storm in the forest was most prominent.
Polichinello was in his glory! On this occasion the joke of the evening was an English traveller. The ideal Englishman on the Continent is a never-failing source of merriment. The presence of five Americans gave additional piquancy to the show. The corpulent, double-chinned, red-nosed Englishman, with knee-breeches, shoe-buckles, and absurd coat, stamped, swore, frowned, doubled up his fists, knocked down waiters, scattered gold right and left, was arrested, was tried, was fined; but came forth unterrified from every persecution, to rave, to storm, to fight, to lavish money as before.
How vivid were the flashes of lightning produced by touching off some cotton-wool soaked in alcohol! How terrific the peals of thunder produced by the vibrations of a piece of sheet-iron! Whatever was deficient in mechanical apparatus was readily supplied by the powerful imagination of the Italians, who, though they had often seen all this before, were not at all weary of looking at it, but enjoyed the thousandth repetition as much as the first.
Those merry Italians!
There is an old, old game played by every vetturino.
When our travellers had returned to the hotel, and were enjoying themselves in general conversation, the vetturino bowed himself in. He was a good deal exercised in his mind. With a great preamble he came to his point. As they intended to start early in the morning, he supposed they would not object to settle their little bill now.
"_What_!" shouted Buttons, jumping up. "What bill? Settle a bill? _We_ settle a bill? Are you mad?"
"Your excellencies intend to settle the bill, of course," said the vetturino, with much phlegm.
"Our excellencies never dreamed of any such thing."
"Not pay? Ha! ha! You jest, Signor."
"Do you see this?" said Buttons, solemnly producing the contract.
"Well?" responded Il Piccolo.
"What is this?"
"Our contract."
"Do you know what it is that you have engaged to do?"
"To take you to Paestum."
"Yes; to Paestum and back, with a detour to Sorrento. Moreover, you engage to supply us with three meals a day and lodgings, to all of which we engage to pay a certain sum. What, then," cried Buttons, elevating his voice, "in the name of all the blessed saints and apostles, do you mean by coming to us about hotel bills?"
"Signor," said the vetturino, meekly, "when I made that contract I fear I was too sanguine."
"Too sanguine!"
"And I have changed my mind since."
"Indeed?"
"I find that I am a poor man."
"Did you just find that out?"
"And that if I carry out this it will ruin me."
"Well?"
"So you'll have to pay for the hotel expenses yourselves," said Il Piccolo, with desperation.
"I will forgive this insufferable insolence," said Buttons, majestically, "on condition that it never occurs again. Do you see that?" he cried, in louder tones.
And he unfolded the contract, which he had been holding in his hand, and sternly pointed to the big blotch of ink that was supposed to be II Piccolo's signature.
"_Do you see that_!" he cried, in a voice of thunder.
The Italian did not speak.
"And _that_?" he cried, pointing to the signature of the witness.
The Italian opened his month to speak, but was evidently nonplused.
"You are in my power!" said Buttons, in a fine melodramatic tone, and with a vivacity of gesture that was not without its effect on the Italian. He folded the contract, replaced it in his breast-pocket, and slapped it with fearful emphasis. Every slap seemed to go to the heart of Il Piccolo.
Do You See That?
[Illustration: Do You See That?]
"If you dare to try to back out of this agreement I'll have you up before the police. I'll enforce the awful penalty that punishes the non-performance of a solemn engagement. I'll have you arrested by the Royal Guards in the name of His Majesty the King, and cause you to be incarcerated in the lowest dungeons of St. Elmo. Besides, I won't pay you for the ride thus far."
With this last remark Buttons walked to the door, and without another word opened it, and motioned to Il Piccolo to leave. The vetturino departed in silence.
On the following morning he made his appearance as pleasant as though nothing had happened.
The carriage rolled away from Salerno. Broad fields stretched away on every side. Troops of villagers marched forth to their labor. As they went on they saw women working in the fields, and men lolling on the fences.
"Do you call that the stuff for a free country?" cried the Senator, whose whole soul rose up in arms against such a sight. "Air these things men? or can such slaves as these women seem to be give birth to any thing but slaves?"
"Bravo!" cried Buttons.
The Senator was too indignant to say more, and so fell into a fit of musing.
"Dick," said Buttons, after a long pause, "you are as pale as a ghost. I believe you must be beginning to feel the miasma from these plains."
"Oh no," said Dick, dolefully; "something worse."
"What's the matter?"
"Do you remember the eggs we had for dinner last evening?"
"Yes."
"That's what's the matter," said Dick, with a groan. "I can't explain; but this, perhaps, will tell thee all I feel."
He took from his pocket a paper and handed it to Buttons. Around the margin were drawn etchings of countless fantastic figures, illustrating the following lines:
A NIGHTMARE.
"_Gorgons, and hydras, and chimeras dire_."
BY A VICTIM.
Eggs! Eggs!! Eggs!!!
Hard boiled eggs for tea!
And oh! the horrible nightmare dream
They brought to luckless me!
The hippopotamus came;
He sat upon my chest:
The hippopotamus roared "I'll spot him!" as
He trampled upon my breast.
The big iguanodon hunched
And rooted in under me:
The big iguanodon raised by that pan o' done
Overdone eggs for tea.
The ichthyosaurus tried
To roll me up in a ball;
While all the three were grinning at me,
And pounding me, bed and all.
Hip! hip! hurrah!
It was a little black pig,
And a big bull-frog, and a bobtailed dog--
All of them dancing a jig.
And oh, the snakes! the snakes!
And the boa constrictor too!
And the cobra capello--a terrible fellow--
Came to my horrified view.
Snakes and horrible beasts,
Frog, pig, and dog
Hustled me, pushed me, tickled me, crushed me,
Rolled me about like a log.
The little blue devils came on;
They rode on a needle's point;
And the big giraffe, with asthmatic laugh,
And legs all out of joint.
Bats crawled into my ears,
Hopping about in my brain;
And grizzly bears rode up on mares,
And then rode down again.
An antediluvian roared,
In the form of a Brahmin bull;
And a Patagonian squeezed an onion,
Filling my aching eyes full.
The three blue bottles that sat
Upon the historical stones
Sang, "Hey diddle diddle"--two on a fiddle,
The other one on the bones.
"Whoo! whoo! whoo!
Get up, get up, you beauty!
Here come the shaved monkeys, a-ridlng on donkeys,
Fresh from Bobberty Shooty."
They raised me up in the air,
Bed, body, and all,
And carried me soon to the man in the moon,
At the siege of Sebastopol.
Down, down, down,
Round, round, round,
A whirlpool hurled me out of the world,
And on, no bottom I found.
Down, down, down,
Whirl, whirl, whirl,
And the Florentine boar was pacing the shore,
His tail all out of curl.
He smoked my favorite pipe,
He blew a cloud of smoke,
He pulled me out with his porcine snout,
And hugging him, I awoke.
"Why, Dick," cried the Senator, "what precious nonsense!"
"It was intended to be so," said Dick.
"Well, but you might as well put on an _idee_. It must have some meaning."
"Not a bit of it. It has no meaning; that is, no more than a dream or a nightmare."
The Senator now began to discuss the nature of poetry, but was suddenly interrupted by a shout--
"The Temples!"
The country about Paestum is one of the most beautiful in the world. Between the mountains and the sea lies a luxuriant plain, and in the middle of it is the ruined city. The outlines of walls and remnants of gates are there. Above all rise five ancient edifices. They strolled carelessly around. The marble floors of a good many private houses are yet visible, but the stupendous temples are the chief attractions here; above all, the majestic shrine of Neptune.
It was while standing with head thrown back, eyes and mouth opened wide, and thoughts all taken up with a deep calculation, that the Senator was startled by a sudden noise.
Turning hastily he saw something that made him run with the speed of the wind toward the place where the noise arose. Buttons and Dick were surrounded by a crowd of fierce-looking men, who were making very threatening demonstrations. There were at least fifteen. As the Senator ran up from one direction, so came up Mr. Figgs and the Doctor from another.
"What is this?" cried the Senator, bursting in upon the crowd.
A huge Italian was shaking his fist in Buttons's face, and stamping and gesticulating violently.
"These men say we must pay five piastres each to them for strolling about their ground, and Buttons has told this big fellow that he will give them five kicks each. There'll be some kind of a fight. They belong to the Camorra." Dick said all this in a hurried under-tone.
"Camorry, what's that--brigands?"
"All the same."
"They're not armed, anyhow."
Just at this moment Buttons said something which seemed to sting the Italians to the soul, for with a wild shout they rushed forward. The Doctor drew out his revolver. Instantly Dick snatched it from him, and rushing forward, drove back the foremost. None of them were armed.
"Stand off!" he cried, in Italian. "The fight is between this big fellow and my friend. If any one of you interferes I'll put a bullet through him."
The Italians fell back cursing. Buttons instantly divested himself of his coat, vest, and collar. The Italian waited with a grim smile.
At one end were the Senator, the Doctor, Mr. Figgs; at the other the Italian ruffians. In the middle Buttons and his big antagonist. Near them Dick with his pistol.
The scene that followed had better be described in Dick's own words, as he pencilled them in his memorandum-book, from time to time, keeping a sharp lookout with his pistol also. Afterward the description was retouched:
_Great mill at Paestum, between E. BUTTONS, Esq., Gentleman, and Italian party called BEPPO_.
_1st Round_.--Beppo defiant, no attitude at all. Buttons assumed an elegant pose. Beppo made a succession of wild strokes without any aim, which were parried without effort. After which Buttons landed four blows, one on each peeper, one on the smeller, and one on the mug.
_First blood for Buttons_. Beppo considerably surprised. Rushed furiously at Buttons, arms flying everywhere, struck over Buttons's head. Buttons lightly made obeisance, and then fired a hundred-pounder on Beppo's left auricular, which had the effect of bringing him to the grass. _First knock down for Buttons_.
_2nd Round_.--Foreign population quite dumbfounded. Americans amused but not excited. One hundred to one on Buttons eagerly offered, but no takers. Beppo jumped to his feet like a wild cat. Eyes encircled with ebon aurioles, olfactory quite demolished. Made a rush at Buttons, who, being a member of the Dodge Club, dodged him, and landed a rattler on the jugular, which again sent foreign party to grass.
_3d Round_.--Nimble to the scratch. Beppo badly mashed and raving. Buttons unscathed and laughing; Beppo more cautious made a faint attempt to get into Buttons. No go. Tried a little sparing, which was summarily ended by a cannonade from Buttons directly in his countenance.
_4th Round_.--Foreigners wild. Yelling to their man to go in. Don't understand a single one of the rules of the P.R. Very benighted. Need missionaries. Evinced strong determination to go in themselves, but where checked by attitude of referee, who threatened to blow out brains of first man that interfered. Beppo's face magnified considerably. Appearance not at all prepossessing. Much distressed but furious. Made a bound at Buttons, who calmly, and without any apparent effort, met him with a terrific upper cut, which made the Italian's gigantic frame tremble like a ship under the stroke of a big wave. He tottered, and swung his arms, trying to regain his balance, when another annihilator most cleanly administered by Buttons laid him low. A great tumult rose among the foreigners. Beppo lay panting with no determination to come to the scratch. At the expiration of usual time, opponent not appearing. Buttons was proclaimed victor. Beppo very much mashed. Foreigners very greatly cowed. After waiting a short time Buttons resumed his garments and walked off with his friends.
The Mill At Paestum.
[Illustration: The Mill At Paestum.]
After the victory the travellers left Paestum on their return.
The road that turns off to Sorrento is the most beautiful in the world. It winds along the shore with innumerable turnings, climbing hills, descending into valleys, twining around precipices. There are scores of the prettiest villages under the sun, ivy-covered ruins, frowning fortresses, lofty towers, and elegant villas.
At last Sorrento smiles out from a valley which is proverbial for beauty, where, within its shelter of hills, neither the hot blast of midsummer nor the cold winds of winter can ever disturb its repose. This is the valley of perpetual spring, where fruits forever grow, and the seasons all blend together, so that the same orchard shows trees in blossom and bearing fruit.
CHAPTER X
.
ON THE WATER, WHERE BUTTONS SEES A LOST IDEA AND GIVES CHASE TO IT, TOGETHER WITH THE HEART-SICKENING RESULTS THEREOF.
On the following morning Buttons and Dick went a little way out of town, and down the steep cliff toward the shore.
It was a classic spot. Here was no less a place than the cave of Polyphemus, where Homer, at least, may have stood, if Ulysses didn't. And here is the identical stone with which the giant was wont to block up the entrance to his cavern.