XIII.

THE CAVERNS OF NAPLES.

EXCAVATIONS NEAR NAPLES.—POZZUOLI.—VISIT TO THE CAVE OF THE CUMEAN SIBYL.—ACCIDENT TO AN ENGLISH TRAVELLER.—HUMAN PACK-HORSES.—DARKNESS AND TORCHES.—THE LAKE OF AVERNUS.—DROWNED IN BOILING WATER.—A DANGEROUS WALK.—IN NERO’S PRISON.—INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE.—USE OF THE RACK.—THE IRON BEDSTEAD.—BROILING A MAN ALIVE.—TREATMENT OF PRISONERS.—AN ANCIENT FUNERAL. —VIRGIL’S TOMB.—CONSTRUCTING WINE CELLARS.—NOVEL PLAN OF ROBBERY.

The traveller who visits Naples has abundant opportunities for making underground explorations in the neighborhood of that city. A few of the places he can examine are of natural origin—the Blue Grotto, for example; but by far the greater part of them are artificial. A most interesting journey can be made to Pozzuoli and its immediate neighborhood. With a longing desire to see some of the underground curiosities that have made that part of Italy famous, I arranged a tour in that direction before I had fairly settled myself at the hotel. We made a party of three, all Americans, and all as impatient and uneasy as our race is said to be when travelling on the continent. A skirmish with a horde of rapacious coachmen secured us a carriage, and we drove out of Naples by the road which skirts the bay in the direction of Rome.

Arriving in the vicinity of the famous places, we were beset by guides, who almost climbed into the carriage in their eagerness to secure an engagement. We picked out the cleanest of the lot, or rather the least dirty, and mounted him upon the box by the side of the driver, where he sat in all the dignity of an emperor. He spoke a confused jumble of English, French, and Italian, which was no language in particular, but might be anything in general. His first movementwas to stop at a wayside house, from which a woman emerged bringing us half a dozen candles or torches of twisted rags and tallow, each of them as large as one’s wrist, and about three feet long. We objected to so many, but the guide assured us they would all be needed. I was inclined to doubt his statement, from my knowledge of the rascality of guides in general; but he met me with the promise, “Me them will pay for if not they be wanted, Si, signor. You verrez will.”

Of course we could not refuse after this guarantee. I paid for the torches with a silent resolution to make the fellow eat what were left over; and, as the tallow was bad, and the rags were worse, there was good reason to believe they would not make an agreeable dinner.

GOING TO POZZUOLI.

Soon after making this purchase, the work of sight-seeing began. Each place we visited had a man at the entrance, and not one of us could go inside without paying for the privilege. There were always a half dozen idle fellows hanging about ready to sell cameos and other curiosities which had been dug up in the vicinity, as they solemnly avowed; in reality the cameos were of modern manufacture, and made in Rome or Naples. The speculators would begin by asking fifty francs for a cameo which was worth about five, and which they would sell for five if they could not get any more. If we safely ran the gantlet through these avaricious tradesmen, we were beset by local guides who wanted to lead us, and we generally found it desirable to employ some of them in order to see what the place contained. In one instance these guides acted as pack-horses, and I can testify that one of them, at least, had all that he wanted to carry; and this is the way it happened.

CITY OF NAPLES, BAY, AND MT. VESUVIUS.— SEAPORT OF SOUTH ITALY, NEAR THE SITES OF HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII.

A RIDE IN NAPLES.

At the cave of the Cumean Sibyl, where the Emperor Nero and other famous men of the olden time were accustomed to go to hear the prophecies on which their fate depended, we found a larger crowd than usual. A party of Americans were just emerging as we entered, and one of them intimated that the place laid over anything he had yet seen. Our torcheswere lighted, and we went forward quite a distance, through a tunnel eight or ten feet wide, out of which a smaller tunnel descended. Down this tunnel we walked until we came to the edge of a black, repulsive pool, over which the light shone very dimly. There was considerable smoke hanging over the water, and altogether the place was about as gloomy as anything I had ever seen. For all that could be discovered, the pool might be a thousand feet deep, and any number of miles across; to venture upon it might be like venturing upon the Atlantic Ocean, or any other great body of water. I noticed that the guides had their trousers rolled to the knee, and were barefooted. They fearlessly entered the water; two of them carried the torches, and three others backed themselves to the edge where there was a sort of stepping-stone.

“What is to be done now?” we asked of our private guide.

“Montez ze backs ze men of,” he replied. “You they carry porteez will to Grotto del Sibyl.”

HUMAN PACK MULES.

We hesitated to trust ourselves with these fellows, who might drown us, or throw us into a hole a few thousand feet deep, and leave us to come up again through the crater of Mount Vesuvius. But finally we concluded to try it, and so we mounted our two-legged steeds and rode off.

It happened that I was the heaviest of our party, and it also happened that the man who took me did not weigh as much as I did by at least fifty pounds. He trembled beneath me like a plateful of jelly in the hands of an intoxicated waiter, and I expected every moment he would drop me into the water. We went out from the shore into the smoky darkness, and in less than a minute we were completely at sea. Water was beneath and around us, and there was a black sky above that we could almost touch. No horizon was visible, and altogether we seemed to be in a world about ten feet in diameter, and without sun, moon, or stars.

Our porters splashed along in water about two feet deep, and I thought much more of the liability of my pack animal to stumble than I did of the Cumean Sibyl and her oracles.Nero was less in my mind than the garlic-eating Italian beneath me, and I was much less interested in the Roman kings than in a certain subject of Victor Emanuel. Our trio exchanged comments on this novel mode of travelling, and for the time we had very little appreciation of the wonderful history of Rome and her dependencies.

CUMEAN SIBYL.

As near as my recollection serves, we had about five minutes of this sort of travel, when the head of our procession came to a halt before a recess in the wall, which our leader described as the Sibyl’s Bath. It seems that before delivering her oracles, she used to take a bath, on the principle, doubtless, that cleanliness is next to godliness, and the purer her skin the more likely would the gods be to aid her with their inspiration. The artists represent her as a pretty woman, and of course she was well aware that frequent bathing had a tendency to preserve her good looks.

The couch or bench where she reclined when delivering her oracles was pointed out, and as it then appeared, it was anything but comfortable. The presence of the water in the cave was explained to be something modern, and not at all in fashion when the Sibyl used to be at home to visitors of wealth and distinction. She used to keep her floor dry and well swept, and probably she had a little sideboard with a cold ham or two and a bottle of wine. Nero was a frequent caller, both in fashionable and unfashionable hours, and used to send her valuable presents. Mrs. Nero was jealous, but the old gentleman was in a position to do pretty much as he liked, and didn’t mind her scolding. One of my companions showed me a scrap of paper, which he said he found just inside the entrance to the cave, while I was paying off the guides. It ran as follows:—

May 10, 4P. M.Dearest Sib: Expect me at eight. The old lady is going out this evening, and won’t miss me. Have the tea ready, and send out for a bottle of Clicquot. I will bring a mince pie and some Limburger cheese; also a new pair of ear-rings and a chignon.Your lovingNero.

May 10, 4P. M.

Dearest Sib: Expect me at eight. The old lady is going out this evening, and won’t miss me. Have the tea ready, and send out for a bottle of Clicquot. I will bring a mince pie and some Limburger cheese; also a new pair of ear-rings and a chignon.

Your loving

Nero.

I suspected that the note was a forgery, as it was written in English, and the paper had the water-mark of 1866. I called my friend’s attention to these slight discrepancies, and he at once put the paper in his pocket, and said nothing more about it.

AN UNFORTUNATE ENGLISHMAN.

After looking at the couch of the Sibyl we started back to our landing-place. Just as we neared it we met another party going in. One of the porters of the new party was evidently weak in the knees, for he stumbled just as he passed me, and went down like a handful of mud. The gentleman he carried was dropped into the water, and fell flat, as though intending to take a swim. He slowly rose to his feet, and after blowing the water from his mouth with a noise like the spouting of a whale, he ventured several remarks that were nowise complimentary to his porter or to the place. He appeared somewhat excited. His language showed him to be English, but there was nothing in it to indicate that he was a member in good and regular standing of the Church of England. He did not finish his journey to the bath and couch of the Sibyl, but followed us to the shore, where he wrung himself out, and then retired to his carriage to be hung up to dry. With a heartlessness peculiar to many travellers, he refused to pay the porter for his services. It is fortunate that the latter did not understand English, as he would have been offended at the remarks which were made about him.

From the Sibyl’s Cave we went to the famous Lake of Avernus, which was described by Virgil long before anybody who reads this book was familiar with a single word of Latin. Near the lake is the famous passage into the mountain about which Virgil wrote:—

“Facilis descensus Averni. Sed revocare gradum, hic opus, hic labor est.”

We paid our admission fee, and then prepared according to the directions of the guide. We laid aside our coats and vests, removed our collars, neck-ties, and hats, and altogether put ourselves in a condition quite improper in polite society. A boy stood ready to precede us in a costume consisting of a pairof pantaloons and a tin pail. A fresh egg was now shown us, and we examined it to see that it was quite cold and raw. The boy then took the egg and a torch, and went into a tunnel like the one at the Sibyl’s Cave. A blast of hot air met us at the entrance, as though it came from a furnace, and I thought of Nebuchadnezzar and the treat that he used to have for his visitors. On and on we went, and also down and down. Old Virgil was right when he said that the descent was easy, for we went down with the grace of so many oysters entering the mouth of a champagne bottle. Hotter and hotter grew the air, and before we were half way down I remembered some business that I had neglected when I left America. I wanted to go back to look after it, but my friends argued that it would keep a little longer, and I had better go on. So we continued down into the bowels of the mountain, over a slippery pathway and in a temperature as agreeable as that of the stoker’s room on a steamship.

We reached the end at last, and the boy stooped to the edge of a pool of water and placed the egg within it. We could see a thin vapor rising from the surface, and readily imagined that it was steam. The boy was careful of his hands, more careful than was necessary, since he might have added to the interest of the occasion by scalding them, and then hiring another boy to take his place. There were plenty of boys outside who could be hired cheap, and if a dozen were killed daily by scalding, or rendered helpless, it would have made no serious diminution of the Italian population.

FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI.

We stood there a couple of minutes, and then the boy took the tin pail and scooped up the egg and a quart or two of water. He then started back, and scrambled quite nimbly up the steep and slippery path. It was a difficult ascent to make, and we acknowledged that Virgil’s head was level when he told about the labor required to retrace one’s steps from Avernus. We perspired like a man who has just learned that he is the father of triplets, and by the time we completed the journey, our clothing was pretty thoroughly saturated. The boy was accustomed to it, as the old lady’s eels were to being skinned,and the hide on his shirtless back looked like the outside of a long-used pocket-book. The egg was thoroughly cooked, and the water in the pail was of a scalding temperature, altogether too hot to put one’s hand into. The egg cost us half a franc, and so did the boy: one of us ate the egg with a little salt, but we declined to eat the boy with or without salt, and he did not urge us.

The guide told us that one day an Englishman went down the “descensus Averni,” and on arriving at the hot water, he stepped around so carelessly that he slipped and fell in. His cries and shrieks rang through the tunnel; he was pulled out as quickly as possible, but he was so badly scalded that he died in a few hours. Several accidents have happened there by persons scalding their hands and feet, but the character of the place is such, that people are likely to be careful; otherwise there would be frequent casualties to record.

NERO’S PRISON.

We visited the ruins of temples that were erected to I don’t know how many deities, and the next subterranean exploration that we made was at Nero’s Prison, as the guide and the guide-books call it. We left our carriage and went on foot up a narrow lane, and along a path where beggars followed and beset us at every turn; notwithstanding their importunity, they did not extract any money from us, though they appeared in all the conditions in which beggars could possibly present themselves. Nero must have been a charming personage if one could judge of him by looking at the place where he used to shut up those who offended him. It was a subterranean affair, and we were obliged to light our torches to explore it. We were led through winding passages into cells that were anything but comfortable, the guide stopping every moment to explain to us the nature of each one of the cells, and the uses to which they were put. They were small enough to render it utterly improbable that a man would exert his legs very actively in running, after he was once shut in, and as for light and ventilation, they were quite in keeping with the size of the apartments.

I inquired about the character of the food which Nero usedto furnish to the occupants of his boarding-house, and was told that it was not of a luxurious character. Nero had notable d’hôte, but used to send the meals to the rooms of his guests. None of them are alive now, and their early death is to be attributed in many cases to the treatment they received. At the time they resided there, oysters had not been invented, and there is nothing on record to show that the delicious conglomerate which we call hash had made its appearance. Some of the patrons used to express a desire to live on the European plan, and take their meals outside; but the proprietor would never permit it. And it must be said, to his credit, that his establishment was to a certain extent a free lunch concern, as he never charged anything for board and lodging. Everything was gratis, and of course the patrons who complained must have been mean fellows, who couldn’t be satisfied, no matter what you might do for them.

CHOICE FURNITURE.

The furniture of the place was very simple. It had been mostly removed when we were there, but it consisted originally of a bundle of straw on the ground and a double lock on the door. There used to be a gymnasium, where they kept a choice lot of racks, thumb-screws, and other luxurious arrangements. Life in the private rooms used to be monotonous, and in order to render it interesting, Nero would take his patrons into the gymnasium to amuse them. Some of them he would play a joke upon by tying them down on a rack and then winding up the machine so that a man of five feet eight would often be converted into six feet two. When he had been played with in this way, they would turn him loose, though releasing him did no good, as he was generally dead before they let him off.

NERO’S GYMNASIUM, AN APARTMENT IN “NERO’S PRISON.”

PROCRUSTES’ BED.

The gymnasium had another arrangement, patented by Mr. Procrustes, which was intended to equalize all men, and make them of a uniform height. This invention, based on the principles of mechanical communism, was a bedstead of iron, and there were various individuals who enjoyed the treat of being placed upon it. A poet has alluded to it as follows:—

“This iron bedstead they do fetchTo try our hopes upon.If we’re too short we must be stretched,Cut off if we’re too long.”

“This iron bedstead they do fetch

To try our hopes upon.

If we’re too short we must be stretched,

Cut off if we’re too long.”

When they laid out a man on this couch, if its length corresponded with his, he was immediately removed before he had time to go to sleep. If he was short, both in money and in stature, they elongated him until he could touch headboard and footboard at the same time; and if he was a tall fellow, they shortened him at the feet with a large pair of shears that were kept for the purpose. When a hundred men had been measured on this bed and placed in a row, they were found to be of the same elevation. A good many of them died soon afterwards, but people were numerous in those days, and the dead ones were not missed by those who didn’t know anything about them.

Down in the kitchen, Nero had a gridiron resembling a garden gate, or a section of an iron fence. He had so many cooks that all of them could not be constantly employed, and so he busied himself to devise ways to employ them. He found that the gridiron was just the thing, and when his cooks were idle he used to take one of his lodgers down stairs and promise him a good roast. The lodger would be thinking of a nice turkey or a leg of mutton when Nero said “roast” to him, and as the private table was not very good, he was always ready to go below. When they got down stairs Nero would tip the wink to the cooks, who would seize the lodger and tie him on the gridiron. They then built a fire under him, and Nero carried on the joke by standing alongside with a big ladle and pouring hot oil over his guest. When he was done brown, and turned over and done on the other side, they would let him off to enjoy the fun of seeing the sell played on the next man. No doubt he would have enjoyed it had he not been dead long before they got through with him.

THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.

When we returned to Naples, we went by another route than the one we had taken in the morning. At one place our way led through a tunnel cut into the solid earth, and said tobe more than two thousand years old. It has worn down greatly since it was first opened; the marks of the axles of carts and wagons are visible along its sides ten or twelve feet above the present floor. It is lighted by torches placed at regular intervals along the walls, and is an important thoroughfare for people going between Naples and certain villages and towns to the north of it. At the end nearest to Naples we were taken to what is supposed to be the Tomb of Virgil, though its authenticity is considerably in doubt. It certainly is not much of a tomb, and many a man not half so talented or famous as Virgil has been lodged after death in far more beautiful quarters than these.

The peculiar nature of the earth composing the hills around Naples has greatly facilitated the construction of tunnels and caves. It is almost identical with that of the bluffs of Vicksburg—easy to cut, and at the same time sufficiently firm to prevent falling in. No roofing or arching of any kind is needed, and the tools ordinarily used in excavations are all that are required. Consequently every man who has a hill on his farm can construct a spacious wine cellar at little expense; and if he has a friendly neighbor over the hill, they can easily cut their way through, and save the trouble of climbing when they want to visit each other.

I heard of Neapolitan thieves who sometimes find out a well-stored wine cellar in the side of a small hill, and carefully observe its position. Then they erect a small house on the other side, and begin a small tunnel. They cart the dirt away at night, and after a month or so enter the cellar and steal enough wine to pay them handsomely for their trouble.

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