From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn

by Henry M. Field

Something of the luxury of those times is seen in the public baths, which are fitted up with furnaces for heating the water, and pipes for conveying it, and rooms for reclining and cooling one's self after the bath, and other refinements of luxury, which we had vainly conceived belonged only to modern civilization.

From the houses we pass to the shops, and here we find all the signs of active life, as if the work had been interrupted only yesterday. Passing along the street, one sees the merchant's store, the apothecary's shop, and the blacksmith's forge. To be sure, the fire is extinguished, and the utensils which have been discovered have been carried off to the Museum at Naples; but it needs only to light up the coals, and we might hear again the ring on the anvils where the hammer fell, struck by hands that have been dust for centuries. And here is a bakery, with all the implements of the trade: the stone mills standing in their place for grinding the corn (is it not said that "two shall be grinding at the mill; one shall be taken and the other left"?); the vessels for the flour and for water, the trough for kneading the bread, and the oven for baking—long brick ovens they are, just like those in which our New England mothers are wont to bake their Thanksgiving pies. Nay, we have some of the bread that was baked, loaves of which are still preserved, charred and blackened by the fire, and possibly might be eaten, although the bread is decidedly well done.

Of course, the most imposing structures that have been uncovered are the public buildings in the Forum and elsewhere—the basilica for the administration of justice; the theatres for games; and the temples for the worship of the gods.

I was curious as to the probable loss of life in the destruction of the city, and conclude that it was not very great in proportion to the population. We have no means of knowing exactly the number of inhabitants. Murray's Guide Book says 30,000, but a careful measurement shows that not more than 12,000 could have been within the walls, while perhaps as many more were outside of it. As yet there have been discovered not more than six hundred skeletons; so that it is probable that the greater number made their escape.

But even these—though few compared with the whole—are enough to disclose, by their attitudes, the suffering and the agony of their terrible fate. From their postures, it is plain that the inhabitants were seized with mortal terror when destruction came upon them. Many were found with their bodies prone on the earth, who had evidently thrown themselves down, and buried their faces in their hands, as if to hide from their eyes the danger that was in the air. Some tried to escape with their treasures. In one house five skeletons were found, with bracelets and rings of gold, silver, and bronze, lying on the pavement. A woman was found with four rings on one of her fingers, set with precious stones, with gold bracelets and earrings and pieces of money. Perhaps her avarice or her vanity proved her destruction. But the hardest fate was that of those who could not fly, as captives chained in their dungeons. Three skeletons were found in a prison, with the manacles still on their fleshless hands. Even dumb beasts shared in the general catastrophe. The horse that had lost its rider pawed and neighed in vain; and the dog that howled at his master's gate, but would not leave him, shared his fate. The skeletons of both are still preserved.

Altogether, the most vivid account which has been given of the overthrow of the city, is by the English novelist, Bulwer, in his "Last Days of Pompeii." He pictures a great crowd collected for gladiatorial combats. That the people had these cruel sports, is shown by the amphitheatre which remains to this day; and the greatest number of skeletons in any one spot was thirty-six, in a building for the training of gladiators. In the amphitheatre, according to the novelist, the people were assembled when the destruction came. The lion had been let loose, but more sensitive than man to the strange disturbance in the elements, crept round the arena, instead of bounding on his prey, losing his natural ferocity in the sense of terror. Beasts in the dens below filled the air with howls, till the assembly, roused from the eager excitement of the combat, at length looked upward, and in the darkening sky above them read the sign of their approaching doom.

But no high-wrought description can add to the actual terror of that day, as recounted by historians. There are some things which cannot be overdrawn, and even Bulwer does not present to the imagination a greater scene of horror than the plain narrative of the younger Pliny, who was himself a witness of the destruction of Pompeii from the bay, and whose uncle, advancing nearer to get a better view, perished.

A city which has had such a fate, and which, after being buried for so many centuries, is now disentombed, deserves a careful memorial, which shall comprise both an authentic historical account of its overthrow, with a detailed report of the recent discoveries. We are glad, therefore, to meet here a countryman of ours who has taken the matter in hand, and is fully competent for the task. Rev. J. C. Fletcher, who is well known in America as the author of a work on Brazil, which is as entertaining as it is instructive, has been residing two years in Naples, preparing for the Harpers a work on Pompeii, which cannot fail to be of great interest, and to which we look forward as the most valuable account we shall have of this long-buried city.

Another excursion of almost equal interest was to Pæstum, some fifty miles below Naples, the ruins of which are second only to those of the Parthenon. It is an excursion which requires two days, and which we accordingly divided. We went first to Sorrento, on the southern shore of the bay, one of the most beautiful spots around Naples, a kind of eyrie, or eagle's nest, perched on the cliff, and looking off upon the glittering waters. Here we were joined by a German lady and her daughter, whom we had met before in Florence and in Rome, and who are to be our travelling companions in the East; and who added much to our pleasure as we picnicked the next day in the Temple of Neptune. With our party thus doubled we rode along the shore over that most beautiful drive from Sorrento to Castellamare, and went on to Salerno to pass the night, from which the excursion to Pæstum is easily made the next day.

Notwithstanding the great interest of this excursion, it has been made less frequently than it would have been but for the fact that, until quite recently, the road has been infested by brigands, who had an unpleasant habit of starting up by the roadside with blunderbusses in their hands, and assisting you to alight from the carriage, and taking you for an excursion into the mountains, from which a message was sent to your friends in Naples, that on the deposit of a thousand pounds or so at a certain place you would be returned safely. If friends were a little slow in taking this hint, and coming to the rescue, sometimes an ear of the unfortunate captive was cut off and sent to the city as a gentle reminder of what awaited him if the money was not forthcoming immediately. Of course, it did not need many such warnings to squeeze the last drop of blood out of friends, who eagerly drained themselves to save a kinsman, who had fallen into the jaws of the lion, from a horrible fate.