Sand and Canvas: Narrative of adventures in Egypt with a sojourn among the artists in Rome

by Samuel Bevan

A carriage with three stout black horses, unicorn-fashion, was at the door of the hotel by half-past seven, and providing ourselves with some cold fowl and Capri wine, we set off for Herculaneum, rattling over the hard stones at a pace which would have been alarming, had our horses been held in by any other than a Neapolitan coachman. A ride of an hour brought us to Resina, and we alighted at the stone steps which lead to an ancient theatre, freed only in part from the load of lava which buried it. The sinking of a well by a peasant is said to have led to its discovery, in the year 1713. The lad who provided us with torches, and showed us over the place, pointed to the various spots where such and such relics had been found, referring us to the Museum at Naples for the farther gratification of our curiosity, and seeming to agree with us that these interesting objects might, with equal propriety, have been left where they were first discovered, instead of being transplanted from the places with which they are associated, to swell an already over-stocked collection. Such, however, has been the fate of every moveable relic of antiquity disinterred at Pompeii and Herculaneum. There is thus comparatively little left to interest the visitor, and having strolled through the damp passages, and poked our torches into the dark comers, we proceeded down one of the little guttered streets of Resina, to the garden-gate, which serves as the portal to Herculaneum. Having passed the threshold, and descended a few steps, we stood upon the Appian Way. On each side of this, probably one of the chief thoroughfares, the houses have been cleared of the lava, which, like a boiling tide, flowed in upon and covered them, and the visitor may now walk at will among the roofless dwellings of the city, while his busy imagination vainly tries to invest them with the forms and figures of those who trod the same stones eighteen hundred years before. On some of the walls there are frescoes, which appear to have retained their primitive brightness of colour, notwithstanding the intense heat to which they have been exposed, and there are still many beautiful pieces of mosaic in the floors of some of the houses, which, from fear of breakage, have escaped translation to the Museum.

Owing to the great difficulty and expense of removing the solid lava, but a small portion only of Herculaneum has been laid bare, and though it is probable that a rich store of antiquities would be brought to light by further excavation, it seems unlikely that the Neapolitan Government will go to any more expense in that way.

Regaining our carriage, which had been waiting for us in the road above, we pushed on for three or four miles, through thick clouds of dust, to La Nunciata, catching an occasional glimpse of Castellamare and the blue mountains beyond, whilst Vesuvius, rising from among the cindery-looking vineyards of the rare Lagrima, formed the prominent feature on our left hand. At every step, the evidences of volcanic movement meet the eye. The foundations of the houses are of lava, lying in huge masses by the road-side, just as they have been rolled down from the mountain, and the carriage-way itself is so beautifully hard, that it needs only an occasional shower to wash away the dust, to retain it in perfect order.

Arrived at the gate of Pompeii, we regained the Via Appia, and leaving our carriage under the thick shade of some almond-trees, entered the street of tombs, or suburb of the ancient city. Here is the house said to have been tenanted by the wealthy Diomede, with its ground and upper floors, and walled garden, and a capacious cellar extending round three sides of the quadrangle. It was here that the skeletons of seven persons were found huddled together in a corner, most probably those of the females of the family, who had retreated to the souterrain, in the hope that they might be sheltered from the burning shower which issued from the mountain. But the ashy rain penetrated and pervaded everything, filtering through the crevices in the form of a fine dust, filling up the very amphoræ, with which old Diomede, doubtless a bon vivant, had plentifully stored his cellar. Farther on, are several tombs in excellent preservation, and then passing through the gate, we entered upon one of the chief streets of the city. The paved carriage-way still shows the wheel-marks of former times, although the street itself is so narrow, that it is difficult to believe there was much passing to and fro. It seems more probable that horses and vehicles were left at the Osterie, outside the gates, and that locomotion within the city was principally confined to walking, with the occasional luxury of a sedan.

The street in which we now found ourselves, appears to have been one of the busiest thoroughfares of the city, to judge from the line of shops on either side, which all bear more or less evidence of the business once carried on therein. In that of the baker, for example, who ground his flour, kneaded the dough, and baked his bread in one and the same little shop, we found the mill, the slab, and the oven. It appears, however, that so sudden was the alarm which seized the terrified inhabitants, that the poor baker fled with the rest, leaving his batch in the oven, whence it was drawn after a lapse of near two thousand years, and deposited in the Borbonico. At the counter of the wine-shop, the print of the measure is still apparent, whilst now and then the eye is greeted with a sign, either on the sill or over the door-way, of callings somewhat more objectionable. Shops and private houses stand side by side, and close to the splendid dwellings, of which the ownership has been assigned to Sallust, Cecilius Capella, and Modestus, may be seen the modest shop of a blacksmith, and the laboratory of a dispensing chemist. Farther on are baths, and an academy of music, with the house of the Edile Pansa; a hotel, the studio of a painter, and a crockery shop. The houses of private individuals are recognized by the inscriptions in red-letters, even now perfectly legible, whilst the identity of the particular business carried on in the shops is less doubtfully established by the relics continually found in them. The Terme, or baths, are in excellent preservation, from the bason of marble down to the leaden pipe and water-cock. The house of the Fauns has been lately discovered, and a number of interesting relics were in course of removal at the time of our visit, though it was some consolation to learn, that the beautiful tessellated pavement, which adorns the whole ground-floor of this building, is to remain intact. Each of our guides carried a large wet sponge, to bring out the colours of the mosaics and frescoes. The former, indeed, are kept sedulously concealed by a layer of dust and broken fragments, and would entirely escape the eye of any traveller, unaccompanied by a custode.

Having examined the most interesting houses in the heart of the city, we walked over an extensive tract of orchard-ground, to the amphitheatre, which is in a state of great preservation. Here, the range of benches appropriated to the Pompejan ladies appears to have been the uppermost tier, as far as possible removed from the arena, and therefore less exposed to risk from the accidental escape of any of the animals. From the nature of the relics here discovered, it seems probable that some spectacle was in course of performance, when the first shower of hot ashes gave the signal for flight, though it would appear that the danger was not so immediate, but that all had time to make good their retreat.

On returning to the city, we paused to examine the Temple of Isis and its oracle, a spot which the imagination of Sir E. B. Lytton has invested with such peculiar interest, and passing into the ruins of the Forum, we seated ourselves on some fragments of its chaste Doric columns, and opened our wallets. Here we took a retrospective glance at the wonders disclosed by our morning’s ramble, and fixed them upon our minds whilst the recollection of them was still fresh. For more than eighty years the process of excavation has been carrying on, and it is supposed, that at the present rate of disinterment, another eighty must elapse before the whole of Pompeii is uncovered. Not a third part, indeed, of the ground within the walls, which are two miles round, has yet been moved, and if the supposition be correct, that the whole of this area is built upon, there is labour in store for many generations.

CHAPTER XVI.

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.