CHAPTER XVI.
The grotto of Pausilippo.—A dying man.—The Lazzaroni.—Weather at Naples.—The grotta del cane.—Inhuman sport.—Subterranean fires.—A Funeral.—Characteristics of the Neapolitans.
I had heard a great deal of the grotto of Pausilippo, which is a great tunnel through a mountain at one end of the city, and I took a walk toward that quarter, for the purpose of visiting it.
This is certainly one of the most surprising works of art in the world, considering its age. It was executed two or three thousand years ago, and is probably the most permanent artificial work on the face of the earth. Even the Egyptian pyramids will not last so long as this. To have some idea of it, you must understand that Naples is separated from the towns on the northern coast by the hill of Pausilippo, which is a ridge of solid rock.
Through this rock an immense tunnel is cut, three quarters of a mile long, and nearly a hundred feet high. It is broad enough for two carriages to pass, and lighted by lamps. Several air-holes, at proper distances, serve to ventilate it and keep the air pure. A great deal of travel is constantly passing through it: and during the heat of summer, the grotto, has a most refreshing coolness. The rumbling of the carriages is echoed from the rocky vault overhead in a very remarkable manner. Altogether, the place struck me with surprise and astonishment; and when I thought of our railroad tunnels, which we boast of as modern inventions, I could not help repeating the observation of king Solomon, that “there is no new thing under the sun.”
While I sat at supper in the evening, I was startled by hearing a bell tinkling violently under my window. I ran to the balcony and found the whole street in a blaze of light. A religious procession was going down the street bearing lighted tapers. I was told that it was a priest going to administer extreme unction to a dying man.
At the sound of the bell, which was carried by one of the procession, all the neighbors ran to the windows and balconies with lamps and candles, and fell upon their knees; for this is the custom on such occasions. In an instant the whole street was in a blaze of light, and the prospect of this illumination, with the long procession of persons dressed in white, chanting a mournful dirge, and the crowds in the balconies in solemn and devout attitudes, struck me very forcibly. As the procession passed by each house, the spectators crossed themselves and uttered a prayer for the soul of the dying man. So sudden are the transitions of these people from the gayety and merriment of their daily occupations to the solemnity of their religious observances.
Everybody who has been at Naples, has something to say about the Lazzaroni, which is the name given to the idle fellows and ragamuffins of this city. Many people imagine them to be a distinct race of men, like the gipseys in other parts of Europe; but this is an error. Every city in Europe has its proportion of lazy and ragged fellows: but in Naples their number is so great that they have obtained this peculiar name. By some, their numbers are stated at twenty thousand. I will not vouch for the full number, but they exist in swarms. Nowhere else did I ever see such comical raggedness as among these people. The scarecrows, which Yankee farmers set in their cornfields to frighten away the birds, are genteel figures compared to these fellows. One has half a pair of trowsers; another half a jacket, and no trowsers at all; another wears the leg of an old stocking for a cap; another has a ragged pair of breeches the wrong side upwards for a shirt. As to the patches and tatters, they surpass all power of language to describe. How they get their living, one is puzzled to guess, for they seem to spend all the day basking in the sun; and in spite of their rags and dirt, they appear to be as happy as lords. They are constantly in good humor, singing, chattering, grimacing, and cutting capers from morning to night. In fact, notwithstanding their want of almost all those things which we call necessaries of life, they appear to be troubled with very little suffering. Their rags and nakedness give them little concern, for the climate is so mild that they hardly feel the want of a covering. Their food is chiefly macaroni, which is very cheap here: two or three cents worth will suffice a man for a day. Their manner of eating it makes a stranger laugh; they hold it up in long strings, at arm’s length, and swallow it by the yard at a time. As for their homes, the most of them have none: they sleep in the open air, on the steps of the churches, and wherever they can find a convenient spot to lie.
It was about the middle of March, which is the most disagreeable month of the whole year in this country; yet I found the weather very mild and pleasant. Light showers of rain happened almost every day; but these lasted commonly but a few minutes and were succeeded by warm sun-shine. I could discern the Appenines at a distance, covered with snow, while the hills around the city were decked with green olive trees. Oranges and lemons were plenty and very cheap: three or four for a cent.
I set out on a walk to visit the famous grotta del cane, or “dog’s cavern,” which is only a few miles from Naples. The road lay through the grotto of Pausilippo, and I could not avoid again admiring this wonderful cavern, the work of men who lived in what we have supposed to be an age of barbarism. At the further end I emerged into the open air and found a region of fields and vineyards, separated by walls of clay. Little children ran along by my side, tumbling head over heels, clacking their chops, making queer noises and antic gestures by way of begging for coppers. All along the road were poplar trees, to which the vines were trained, but they were not in leaf. After a walk of three or four miles I came to lake Agnaro, a piece of water about the size of Fresh Pond in Cambridge. On the shore of this lake is the grotta del cane. It is a rocky cavern which enters horizontally a little above the water, and emits from its mouth a sulphureous steam or vapor, which will kill a dog if he is put into the cavern. People who live in the neighborhood keep dogs for the purpose of exhibiting this phenomenon to strangers. The dogs know the fatal properties of this cave, and refuse to go in. While I was there, some of these fellows came to me and offered to exhibit the experiment; but I declined, not wishing to see an animal treated with cruelty for mere curiosity. They assured me that the dog need not be killed—that they would only keep him in the cave long enough to throw him into a swoon, and then bring him to life again by plunging him into the water. I told them this was as bad as killing him outright: for the animal could suffer no more by actually dying. They were very unwilling to lose their expected fee, and answered me that there was no suffering in the case, but, on the contrary, the dogs were very fond of the sport! I laughed at this impudent falsehood, and refused to have anything to do with the exhibition.