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

by Samuel Bevan

The churches of Naples are particularly well worth visiting, though to go the round of the whole three hundred, would require a greater amount of patience than I possess, and I succeeded, moreover, so badly in an attempt to hear the famed Miserere in the church of the Conservatorio, that my sight-seeing determination received a severe check. By dint of a great amount of pushing and squeezing through a dense mass of people, I managed eventually to secure standing-room, at a considerable distance from the choir, from which position I was soon compelled to retreat by reason of the suffocating heat, and peculiar Neapolitan odours, having lost nothing, except my handkerchief and the whole of Zingarelli’s sublime composition. For a clever pickpocket, commend me to the gamin de Naples, who will contrive, even in broad daylight, to ease a stranger of every thing worth stealing. After the loss of three handkerchiefs, I found that my only safeguard was to go entirely without one.

But to return to the churches, of which some will be found particularly interesting in the way of pictures and valuable marbles. In the cathedral of San Gennaro, are some matchless columns of Egyptian granite, (covered over by the way for some purpose or other, with a coating of stucco,) besides others of porphyry and cipollino, with bronzes and valuable paintings. The chapel of San Severo is remarkable for some specimens of sculpture, exhibiting a recumbent body covered with a thin veil, so dexterously worked in marble, that the development of the various muscles beneath the gauze is admirably managed, and there is another figure still more extraordinary, of a man entangled in a fine net. Here, the artist must have inserted his chisel between the meshes, which come in contact with the body of the statue only in a few places, the whole production evincing a vast amount both of skill and labour.

There is so much to see and admire in Naples and its neighbourhood, that I hardly knew which way to turn. I had yet to visit Baiæ, and the western shore of the Bay, whilst each time that my eyes rested on Vesuvius, I was reminded of an additional obligation. These, however, were scenes which I had no desire to visit alone, having always been of opinion, that the pleasures of travelling are materially enhanced by agreeable society, and though it may be all very pleasant to shoulder a knapsack, and walk a hundred miles on end with no other companion than one’s own thoughts, the charms of lake and mountain are not the less fully appreciated when shared by an intelligent fellow-traveller. Such was my friend P——s, upon whom I stumbled one evening in the Toledo, and a proposal on his part to visit Baiæ on the morrow, was hailed by me with pleasure.

The carriage of my host of the “York,” was again put in requisition, and quitting Naples, di buon ora, we rattled merrily through the Grotto of Posilipo, and then taking the dusty road to the right, reached the simmering lake of Agnano. Close by its shore is the famed Grotto del Cane, where of course we paid the fee, entitling us to reduce an unlucky hound to a state of syncope. Indeed, the poor animal seemed so habituated to the cruel infliction, that he sneezed and kicked himself back into life in the most good-humoured way imaginable, and ran away with a big bit of bread in his mouth to keep up his spirits until the arrival of some other party. The gaseous vapour, which has the same effect upon the nasal organs as when a bottle of soda-water is swallowed too hastily, rises to a height of eighteen inches above the floor of the little cavern. The poor dog is firmly held by the feet within the gas until he has ceased to move, and is then laid upon the grass outside, where the fresh air speedily restores him. The ground in the immediate neighbourhood of the lake is alive with small frogs, which jump about by hundreds at every foot-fall, and appear to thrive wonderfully well upon the noxious vapours with which the region abounds. Here are also some vapour-baths of great efficacy in chronic cases, and I believe they are much resorted to.

Returning to the road, we reached anon the ancient Pozzuolo, or place of wells, romantically situated upon the shore. The ruins of the city may be clearly observed beneath the blue water of the bay, which would seem to have encroached upon it suddenly, whilst on the other hand the earthquake has not been idle, the whole of the town having been more than once laid in ruins. Here are the remains of an amphitheatre of prodigious dimensions, with ruined villas, bridges and temples. As we passed through the town, our vehicle was besieged by a clamorous posse of young ruffians, laden with antiques of all sorts, both genuine and modern, who clambered upon the steps and wheels, and got up behind and before in their anxiety to relieve us of a few carlini in return for their terra-cottas. Our coachman’s whip was the only argument they would listen to, and having thus got quit of them, we skirted once more along the Gulf. Each fresh turn in the road disclosed views of the most enchanting character, saving where the beauty of the landscape was marred by the unsightly presence of an immense gang of forzati, or galley slaves, working at the repairs of the roadway. On our right arose the bare volcanic hill of 1538, with the vine-covered mountains embosoming the once dismal Avernus, now famed for the excellence of its trout, whilst sky-larks, and others of the feathered tribe, “warble o’er” it with impunity. Beneath us, Procida and Ischia, rising from the blue and motionless bosom of the bay, glittered in the noon-day sun.

A little bye-road leads to the lake and the Grotto of the Sybil, a spot deservedly celebrated by Virgil, in his day, but now infested by a lot of lazy fellows, who gain their livelihood by showing the subterranean chambers of the rock. Here we fell in with a party of our fair country-women, who for the last half-hour had been splashing about under-ground, in the brawny grasp of these uncouth ruffians, stifled with the smoke of torches, and sorely frightened at the echoing sound of the dark waters through which they had been hurried. It is needless to add that they had seen nothing, and indeed their report of the expedition was so very far from tempting us, that we regained our carriage with what haste we could.

Within a quarter of a mile of this spot, in the face of a high cliff overhanging the road, is another remarkable cavern, forming the entrance to a series of hot springs. Owing to the heat pervading the several corridors, which increases in intensity the farther you penetrate inwards, we found it impossible to get any great distance, but the old fellow in charge, who seemed to have sweated himself down almost to a skeleton, took in with him a couple of raw eggs, and returned with them very nicely boiled! not at all appearing to mind having undergone a similar process in his own person. We agreed, however, that the poor old man had well (not to say honestly) earned the trifling present we gave him, and begging him not to expose himself to the risk of catching cold, by showing us out into the scorching sun, we left him to his eggs and dripping. And now we fondly hoped that we had seen the last phenomenon of this sulphureous district; but no, we were again mistaken. On making our exit from Nero’s ovens, we were escorted by a party of juvenile exhibitors down to the margin of the sea, where, forcing our hands through the cold water into the sand beneath, we found it also at boiling point! This, with the distribution of a few grani, closed the entertainments of the morning.

On reaching Baiæ, we deemed it advisable to make a call at its little road-side Osteria, where we lunched on a queer-coloured omelette, and some Capri wine, our table being spread in a little raised gallery outside the house. From hence the view over the bay was very lovely, so much so indeed, that we were loth to quit the spot, and decided upon finishing our day’s ramble in exploring the ruins hard by, and climbing the hills above us, for the sake of a more extended prospect. In the cool of the evening we returned to Naples.

Being now anxious to proceed towards Rome, I determined that the last night but one of my stay at Naples should be devoted to the ascent of Vesuvius. Three of us quitted the city at dusk in a carriage, which was engaged to take us to Resina, and there await our return. Old François bore us company, in order to take care of our provisions and over-coats, which are both essential to the comfort of the undertaking. By the time we arrived at the little hostelry, where our vehicle was to give place to a set of saucy mules, it was quite dark, and the disposition of the little party, as we equipped ourselves by torch-light in the court-yard, formed a striking picture. We took plenty of guides, more perhaps than were necessary, but there is nothing like being upon the safe side, and sufficient light is a great desideratum whilst picking your way in the dead of night, over the execrable road worn amid the broken masses of lava and scoriæ, which cover the base of the mountain. A few hours of weary riding, of which the monotony was only broken by the stumbling of some sleepy guide, and consequent extinction of his torch, or by our own exclamations of surprise and wonder, as a more than ordinary shower of stones was discharged with a rushing noise from the still distant crater, brought us to the little halting-place, called the Hermitage. The night was bitterly cold, and there was a considerable breeze stirring, so that we hailed the welcome shelter with a shout of pleasure, and jumping off our mules, were soon extended on the homely couches in its little supper-room, whilst François busied himself in boiling a dozen or two of eggs. I was so tired by the rough jolting pace of the animal that had fallen to my lot, that I was no sooner seated than I sank into sleep. My companions, however, had possessed themselves of the visitors’ book, replete, as usual, with all manner of absurdities, and their merriment effectually spoilt my nap.

Our supper finished, we again summonsed our guides, who armed us each with an iron-shod pole, and thus equipped, we commenced the long up-hill walk, which leads to the more immediate base of the mountain. It required extreme caution to avoid coming in contact with the blocks of broken lava, and as we neared the steeper ground, we discovered that we had a severe task to accomplish, the flaring beacon above shedding upon us, at intervals, a faint bluish light, reminding us most unpleasantly of the amount of labour we had still to undergo. My guide now took hold of one end of the pole, bidding me to hold on tight at the other, and in this way we scrambled over a mile or more of outrageously large cinder-heaps, among which I pitched and floundered about in a way that threatened to dislocate every joint in my body. All this while we were rapidly ascending (barring the many falls we got,) and daylight began to break upon us as we approached the outer edge of the crater. Hearing a sort of joyous shout from the advanced guard of our party, I made a desperate stagger onwards, and fell suddenly into a charming little gully between two enormous cinders. Never did rest upon a feather-bed appear more welcome, than did mine at that moment upon the rugged spot where I had fallen. My attentive guide now approached his flaring torch to within six inches of my face, and finding that I was in a state of profuse perspiration, he insisted upon putting me on my legs again, promising me a fair time for recruiting a little further on. To have suffered me to lie there, would indeed have been a mistaken kindness.