 CHAPTER XVIII. The town contains several very handsome squares, in all of which we find several statues and fountains. Foremost among the churches the cathedral must be mentioned. This gothic façade occupies one entire side of a square. A spacious entrance hall with two monuments, not executed in a very fine style of art, leads to the interior of the church, which is of considerable extent but built in a very simple style. The pillars, two of which always stand together, and the four royal monuments at the entrance are all of Egyptian granite. The finest part of the church is in the chapel of St. Rosalia on the right, and far from the high altar. Both its walls are decorated with large bar reliefs and marble, beautifully executed. One of these represents the banishment of the plague and the finding of St. Rosalia's bones. A splendid pillar of lapis lazuli, said to be the largest and finest specimen of this stone in existence, stands beside the high altar. The two basins with raised figures at the entrance of the church also deserve notice. The left side of the square is occupied by the Episcopal Palace, a building of no pretensions. Santa Teresia is a small church, containing nothing remarkable except a splendid bar relief and marble representing the Holy Family, which an Englishman once offered to purchase for an immense sum. The neighboring church of St. Paeta, on the contrary, can be called large and grand. The façades are ornamented with pillars of marble, the altar is richly gilt, and handsome frescoes deck the ceiling. St. Domenigo, another fine church, possesses, my sister-own assured me, the largest organ in the world. If he had said the greatest he had seen, I could readily have believed him. In St. Ignacio or Olavasa, near a minor altar at one side, we find a painting representing the Virgin and the infant Jesus. The sacristan persisted that this was a work of Raphaels. The coloring appeared to me not quite to resemble that of the great master, but I understand too little of these things to be able to judge on such a subject. At any rate, it is a fine piece. A few steps below the church lies the oratory, which nearly equals it in size, and also contains a handsome painting over the altar. St. Augustine also repays the trouble of a visit. It displays great wealth in marble, sculptures, frescoes, and air-besques. St. Joseph is also rich in various kinds of marble. Several of its large columns have been made from a single block. A clear cold stream issues from this church. I have still to notice the lovely public gardens, which I visited after dining with the Consul General, Herr Wallenberg. I cannot omit this opportunity of gratefully mentioning the friendly sympathy and kindness I experienced on the part of this gentleman and his lady. To return to the gardens, the most interesting to me was the botanical, where a number of rare trees and plants flourish famously in the open air. The catacombs of the Augustine convent are most peculiar. They are situate immediately outside the town. From the church, which offers nothing of remarkable interest, a broad flight of stairs leads downward into a long and lofty passage cut in the rock and receiving light from above. The skeletons of the dead line the walls, in little niches close beside each other. They are clothed in a kind of monkish robe, and each man's hands are crossed on his chest, with a ticket bearing his name, age, and the date of his death depending therefrom. A more horrible sight can scarcely be imagined than these dressed-up skeletons and death's hands. Many still have hair on the scalp, and some even beard. The niches in which they stand are surmounted by planks displaying skulls and bones, and the corridors are crowded with whole rows of coffins, their inmates waiting for a vacant place. If the relations of one of the favored skeletons neglect to supply a certain number of wax tapers on All Saints' Day, the poor man is banished from his position, and one of the candidates steps in and occupies his niche. The corpses of women and girls are deposited in another compartment, and look as though they were lying in state in their glass coffins, dressed in handsome silks, with ornamental coiffes on their heads, ruffs and lace collars round their necks, and silk shoes and stockings, which however soon burst on their feet. A wreath of flowers decks the brow of each girl, and beneath all this ornament the skull appears with its hollow eyes, a parody upon life and death. Whenever anyone wishes to be immortalized in this way, his friends and relations must pay a certain sum for a place on the day of his burial, and afterwards bring wax tapers every year. The body is then laid in a chamber of lime, which remains for eight months hermetically closed until the flesh has been entirely eaten away. Then the bones are fastened together, dressed and placed in a niche. On All Saints' Day these corridors of death are crowded with gazers, friends and relations of the deceased resort thither to light candles and perform their devotions. I was glad to have had an opportunity of seeing these audience halls of the dead, but I still rejoiced when I hastened upwards to surge-earn once more among the living. From here I drove to Alavutza to view the Moorish Castle of Ziza, celebrated for the beauty of its situation and the region around. Not far from the old castle stands a new one, with a garden of much beauty, containing also a number of fantastic toys such as little grottoes and huts, hollow trees in which secret doors fly suddenly open, disclosing to view a nun, a monk, or some figure of the kind, etc. Here I still found a species of date tree growing in the open air, but the fruit it bears is very small and never becomes completely ripe. This was the last date tree I saw. The Royal Villa, favorite, about a mile from the town, is situated in a lovely spot. It is built in the Chinese style, with a quantity of points, gables, and little bells. Its interior is, however, arranged according to European design, in a rich, tasteful and artistic manner. We linger with pleasure in the rooms, each of which offers some attractive feature. Thus for instance one apartment contains beautiful fresco paintings, another life-size portraits of the royal family in Chinese costume, in a third the effects of damp on walls and ceiling are so accurately portrayed that at first I was deceived by the resemblance, and regret it to find a room in such a condition among all the pomp and splendor around. One small cabinet is entirely inlaid with little pieces of all the various kinds of marble that are to be found in Sicily. The large tables are made of petrified and polished woods, etc. Since these minor attractions a much greater one exists in the splendid view which we obtain from the terraces and from the summit of the Chinese tower. I found it difficult to tear myself from contemplating this charming prospect. A painter would become embarrassed by the very richness of the materials around him. Everything I had seen from on board here appeared before my eyes with increased loveliness, as I here saw it from a higher position and obtained a more extended view. An ornamental garden lies close to the palace. It is flagged with large blocks of stone between which spaces are left for earth. These beds are parceled out according to plans, bordered with a box of foot in height and a range so as to form immense leaves, flowers, and arabesques, while in the midst stand vases of natural flowers. The park fills up the background. It consists merely of a few avenues and meadows extending to the foot of Mount Rosalia. This mountain I also ascended. The finest paved street, which is sufficiently broad for three carriages to pass each other, winds in a serpentine manner around the rocky heights so that we can mount upwards without the slightest difficulty. The convent is small and very simply constructed. The courtyard behind it, on the contrary, is exceedingly imposing. It is shut in on all sides by steep walls of rock, covered with clinging ivy in a most picturesque manner. On the left we find a little grotto containing an altar. In the foreground on the right, a lofty gate, formed by nature and beautified by art, leads into a chapel wonderfully formed of pieces of rock and stalactites. A feeling of astonishment and admiration almost amounting to awe came upon me as I entered. The walls near the chief altar are overgrown with a kind of delicate moss of an emerald green color, with the white rock shining through here and there, and in the midst rises a natural cupola, terminating in a point. The extreme summit of this dome cannot be distinguished. It is lost in obscurity. Here and there natural niches occur in which statues of saints have been placed. To the left of the high altar I saw the monument of St. Rosalia, beautifully executed in white marble. She is represented in a recumbent posture, the size of life, the statue rests on a pedestal two feet in height. In the most highly decorated or the most gorgeous church I could not have felt myself more irresistibly impelled to devotion than in this grand temple of nature. From the fifteenth to the eighteenth of July and every year a great feast is held in honor of St. Rosalia, the patron saint of the city, in the town and on the mountain. On these days a number of people make a pilgrimage to the grotto above described, where the bones of the saint were found at a time when the plague was raging at Palermo. They were carried with great pomp into the town, and from that moment the plague ceased. The road from the convent to the temple, built on the summit of a rock and visible to the sailors from a great distance, leads us for about half a mile over loose stones. Its construction is extremely simple and not remarkable in any way. In former times its summit was decked by a colossal statue of the saint. This fell down and the head alone remained unmutilated. Like the statue the fain is now in ruins, and its site is only visited for the sake of the beautiful view. On our way back to the convent my guide drew my attention to a spot where a large tree had stood. Some years before a family was sitting quietly beneath its shade, partaking of a frugal meal, when the tree suddenly came crashing down and caused the death of four persons. The excursion to St. Rosalia's hill can easily be made in four or five hours. It is usual to ride up the mountain on donkeys. These animals are, however, so sluggish compared with those of Egypt that I often prefer dismounting and proceeding on foot. The Neapolitan donkeys are just as lazy. I wished still to visit Begaria, the summer residence of many of the town's people. One morning I drove to this lovely spot in the company of an amiable Swiss family. The distance from Palermo is about two and a half miles, and the road frequently winding close to the sea presents a rich variety of beautiful pictures. We went to view the palace of Prince Facelo. The proprietor appears, however, seldom to reside here, for everything wears an air of neglect. Two halls in this building are worthy of notice. The walls of the smaller one are covered with figures and ornaments, beautifully carved in wood, with pieces of mirror glass placed between them. The vaulted ceiling is also decorated with mirrors, some of which are unfortunately already broken. The walls of the larger hall are completely lined with the finest Sicilian marble. Above the cornices the marble has been covered with thin glass, which gives it a peculiar appearance of polish. The immense ceiling of the great hall is vaulted, like that of the smaller one, and completely covered with mirrors, all of them in good preservation. Both apartments, but particularly the large one, are said to have a magical effect when lighted up with tapers. I spent a Sunday in Palermo and was much pleased at seeing the peasants in their festive garb, in which, however, I could discover nothing handsome, nor, indeed, anything peculiar save the long, pendant night-caps. The men wear jackets and breeches and have the before-mentioned caps on their heads. The dress of the women is a spencer, a petticoat, and a kerchief of white or colored linen round the head and neck. The common people appeared to be neither cleanly nor wealthy. The rich are dressed according to the fashions of London, Paris, and Vienna. In all the Sicilian towns I found the mob more boisterous and impudent than in the East, and frequently it was my lot to witness most diabolical quarrels and fights. It is necessary to be much more on one's guard against theft and roguery among these people than among the Arabs and Bedouins. Now I acknowledge how falsely I had judged the poor denizens of the East when I took them for the most thievish of tribes. The people here and at Naples were far worse than they. I was doubly pained on making this discovery from the fact that I saw more fasting and more praying and more clergymen in these countries than anywhere else. To judge from appearances I should have taken the Sicilians and Neapolitans for the most pious of people in the world. But their behavior towards strangers is rude in the extreme. Never had I been so impudently stared out of the countenance as these Sicilian towns, fingers were pointed at me amidst roars of laughter, the boys even ran after me and jeered at me, and all because I wore a round straw hat. In Messina I threw this article away and dressed according to the fashion which prevails here and in my own country, but still the gaping did not cease. In Palermo it was not only the street boys who stood to gaze at me, the grandees also did me the same honor, whether I drove or walked. I once asked the lady the reason of this and requested to know if my appearance was calculated either to give offence or to excite ridicule. She explained that neither was the case, but that the only thing the citizens remarked in me was that I went about alone with the servants. In Sicily this was quite an uncommon circumstance, for there I always saw two ladies walking together, or a lady and a gentleman. Now the grand mystery was solved, but notwithstanding this I did not alter my mode of action, but continued to walk quietly about the town with my servant, for I preferred being laughed at a little to giving anyone the trouble of accompanying me about everywhere. At first this staring made me very uncomfortable, but man can adapt himself to everything, and I am no exception to the rule. The vegetation in Sicily is eminent for its luxuriant loveliness. Flowers, plants, and shrubs attain a greater height and magnitude than we find elsewhere. I saw here numerous species of aloes which we cultivate laboriously in hot-houses, growing wild, or planted as hedges around gardens. The stems from which blossoms burst forth often attain a height of from twenty to thirty feet. Their flowering season was already past. October Tenth After a sojourn of five days I bade farewell to Palermo and took my departure in wet weather. This was the first rain I had seen fall since the twentieth of April. The temperature remained very warm, on fine days the thermometer stood at twenty degrees or twenty-three degrees reamer in the sun at noon. The vessel on which I now embarked was a royal mail steamer. We left Palermo at noon. Towards evening the sea became rather rough, so that the spray dashed over me once or twice although I continually kept near the steersman. At the commencement of our journey nothing was to be seen but sky and water. But the next day as we approached the Neapolitan coast, island after island rose from the sea, and at length the mainland itself could be discerned. Capri was the first island we approached closely. Soon afterwards my attention was drawn to a great cloud rising towards the sky. It was a smoky column from the glowing hearth of Vesuvius. At length the white line glittered on the verge of the horizon like a band through the clear air. There was a joyful cry of Napoli, Napoli, and Naples lay spread before me. CHAPTER 19 OF A VISIT TO THE HOLY LAND, EGYPT AND ITALY, PART ONE, by Ida L. Pfeiffer. My imagination was so powerfully excited I may say overexcited by the accounts I had heard and read concerning this very city that here once more my expectations were far from being realized. This was perhaps partly owing to the circumstance that I had already seen Constantinople and had just quitted Palermo, the situation of which Lattertown had so enchanted me that my enthusiasm was here confined within very narrow bounds, and I felt inclined to prefer Palermo to Naples. At two o'clock in the afternoon I landed, and the kind assistance of Herr Bretschneider at once procured me an excellent room in Santaluchia, with the prospect of the harbor and the bay, besides a view of Vesuvius and the region surrounding it. As usual I wished to commenced my researches at once, but already in Palermo I had felt an unceasing pain in my side, so that my last walks there had been attended with considerable difficulty. Here I became really ill and was unable to quit my room. I had a boil on my back, which required the care of the surgeon, and kept me in my room for a fortnight until a fever had abated. If this misfortune had happened to me in the East, or even while I was in quarantine at Malta, who knows whether I should not have been looked upon as having a plague boil, and shut up for forty days. During my imprisonment here my only relaxation during the hours when I was free from fever and it did not rain, was to sit on the balcony, contemplating the beautiful prospect and looking on the bustling, lively populace. The Neapolitan's appeared to me to be very ill-behaved, boisterous and quarrelsome, and seemed to entertain a great horror of work. The latter's circumstance seems natural enough, for they require little for their daily support, and we hardly find that the common people anywhere work more than is necessary to shield them from immediate want. This is particularly the case in Italy, where the heat is oppressive during the day, and the temperature of the evening so agreeable that everyone wishes to enjoy himself rather than to work. I sometimes saw men employed themselves for half a day together in pushing bullets with a little stick through a ring fastened to the ground. This is one of the most popular games. The women are always sitting or standing in front of the houses, chattering or quarreling, and the children lie about in the streets all day long. The various trifles suffices to breed a quarrel among young or old, and then they kick one another with their feet, a very graceful practice for women or girls, even with their knives they are ready on all occasions. For making observations on the Neapolitan's no better post can be chosen than a lodging in the quarter of St. Lucia. The fishermen, lasaroni and sailors live in the little side lanes and spend the greater part of the day in the large streets of St. Lucia, the chief resort both for pedestrians and people on horseback and in carriages. And and about the harbor we find numerous vendors of oysters and crabs, which they bring fresh from the sea. The lasaroni no longer go about half-naked, and the common people are dressed in a decent, though not in a picturesque manner. Here a number of handsome ecopages roll by, their lady occupants were very fashionably attired. Even among the better classes it is usual for the men to purchase all the household necessaries, such as fish, bread, poultry, etc. Poultry is very much eaten in Italy, particularly turkeys, which are sometimes sold ready-cut up, according to weight. On Sundays and holy days the shops containing wares and provisions and the meat and poultry stalls are opened in the same way as on a weekday. But all Italy we do not see them closed for the observance of a Sunday or holy day. On the fifteenth day I had so far recovered that I could begin my tour of observation, using, however, certain precautions. At first I combined my researches to churches, palaces, and the museum, particularly as the weather was unprecedentedly bad. It rained, or rather poured, almost every day, and in these cases the water rushes in streams out of the by-lanes towards the sea. The greater part of Naples is built on an eclivity, and there are no gutters, so that the water must force its way along the streets. This has its peculiar advantages, for the side lanes which are filthy beyond description thus get a partial cleansing by the stream. As I am not a connoisseur it would be foolish in me to attempt a criticism upon the splendid productions of art, which I beheld here, in Rome, and at Florence and other places. I can only recount what I saw. During my excursions I generally regulated my movements according to the divisions and instructions contained in August Leewald's handbook, a work which every traveller will find very serviceable and correct. I began with the Royal Palace, which was situate near my lodging at St. Lucia, with one front facing the sea, and the other turned towards a large, fine square. This building contains forty-two windows in a row. I could see nothing of its interior excepting the richly decorated chapel as the royal family resided there during the whole time of my stay, and thus the apartments were not accessible to strangers. Opposite the castle stands the magnificent rotunda, also called the Church of San Francesco de Paola. Adjoining this church on either side were arcades in the form of a half-circle, supported by handsome pillars, beneath which several shops are established. The roof of the rotunda is formed by a splendid cupola resting on thirty-four marble pillars. The altars, with the niches between, occupied by colossal statues, are ranged round the walls, and in some instances decorated by splendid modern paintings. A great quantity of lapis lazuli has been used in the construction of the grand altar. In the higher regions of the cupola, two galleries, with tasteful iron railings, are to be seen. The entire church, and even the confessionals, are covered with a species of gray marble. The peculiar appearance of this place of worship is exceedingly calculated to excite the visitor's wonder, for to judge from its exterior he would scarcely take the splendid building before him for a church. It was built on the model of the famous rotunda at Rome, but the idea of the porticoes is taken from St. Peter's. Two large equestrian statues of bronze form the ornaments of the square before this church. Quitting this square, we emerge into the two finest and most frequented streets in the town, namely the Chiaga and Toledo. Not far off is the imposing theater of St. Carlo, said to be not only the largest in Italy, but in all Europe. Its exterior aspect is very splendid. A large and broad entrance extends in front, with pillars beneath the shelter of which the carriages drive up so that the spectators can arrive and depart without the chance of getting wet. This evening there was to be a particularly grand performance. I entered the theater and was much struck with its appearance. It contained six tiers, all parceled off into boxes, of which I counted four and twenty on the grand circle. Each box is almost the size of a small room, and can easily accommodate from twelve to fifteen people. A fairy-like spectacle is said to be produced when, on occasions of peculiar festivity, the whole exterior is lighted up. Here as in nearly all the Italian theaters, a clock, showing not only the hours but the minutes, is fixed over the front of the stage. A particular performance convinces at six o'clock and usually terminates an hour or two before midnight. This evening I saw a little ballet, then two acts of an opera, and afterwards a comedy, the whole concluding with a grand ballet. It is usual on the benefit nights to give a great variety of entertainments in order to attract the public. On these occasions the prices are also reduced one-fifth. The greatest square, Largo del Castello, almost adjoins the theater. It is of an oblong form, and contains many palace-like buildings, including the finance and police offices. A pretty spring, the water of which falls down some rocks and forms a cascade, is also worthy of mention. A little to the left we come upon the Medina Square, boasting the finest fountain in Naples. Between these two squares, beside the seashore, lies Castle Nuevo, said to be built quite in the form of the Bastille. It is strongly fortified and serves as a defense for the harbour. This is a very lively neighbourhood. Many an hour's amusement have I had, watching the motley crowd, particularly on Sundays and holy days, when it is frequented by improvisators, singers, musicians, and mount bunks of every description. Not far from the harbour is a long street in which numerous kitchens and many provision stalls are established. Here I walked in the evenings to see the people assembled round the macaroni-pots. It is advisable, however, to leave watch and purse at home, and even one's pocket handkerchief is not safe. Of the shouting and crowding here no conception can be formed. Large kettles are placed in front of the shops, and the proprietors sit beside them, plunging a great wooden fork and spoon into the cauldron to fill the plates of expecting customers. Some eat their favourite dish with fat and cheese, others without, according to the state of their ex-checker for the time being, but one and all eat with their fingers. The army of hungry mortals seems innumerable, and during feeding time the stranger finds no little difficulty in forcing a passage, notwithstanding the breadth of the street. Not far from this thoroughfare of the people the two punchinellos are erected. In one of these the marionettes are foot-and-a-half, in the other no less than three feet high. There is besides a theatre for the people where pieces of tragic and comic character are performed, in all of which the clown plays a prominent part. The remaining theatres, the Nuovo, the Carlini, and others, are about the size of those in the Leopold and Josephat at Vienna, and can accommodate about eight hundred spectators. Their exteriors and interiors are alike, undistinguished, but in some of them the singing and playing are very creditable. In one of these theatres we are obliged to descend, instead of to ascend, to reach the pit in the first tier of boxes. Naples contains more than three hundred churches and chapels. I visited a number of them, for I entered every church that came my way. St. Fernando, a church of no great size, but a very pleasing appearance, struck me particularly. The ceiling of the sedifice is covered with frescoes and the walls enriched with marble. At the two side altars we find a pair of very fine, half-length pictures of saints. St. Jesu Nuovo, another exceedingly handsome church, stands on the borders of the Lago Maggiore, and is full of magnificent frescoes, surrounded by arabesque borders. The latter appear as though they were gilded, and the effect thus produced is remarkably fine. This spacious building contains a number of small chapels, partitioned off by massive gratings. The great cupola is exceedingly handsome, and every chapel boasts a separate one. St. Jesu Maggiore does not carry out its appellation, for it is a small, unpretending church, though some splendid gothic ornaments beautify the exterior. St. Maria de Piedigrata, another little church, is much frequented, from the fact that the common people place great confidence in the picture of the Virgin there displayed. The church contains nothing worthy of notice. The grotto of Pasalip, a cavern of immense length, now called Pusoli, is not far distant. This grotto, hewn out of a rock, is about twelve hundred paces long, between fifty and sixty feet in height, and of such breadth that two carriages can easily pass each other. A little chapel cut out of the rock occupies the middle of the cavern, and both grotto and chapel are illuminated night and day. As in the whole of Naples the pavement here is formed of lava from Mount Vesuvius. Immediately above the grotto, in the direction of the town, we come upon a simple gravestone of white marble, the monument of the poet Virgil. A long flight of steps leads to the garden containing this monument. The poet's ashes do not, however, rest here, the spot where he sleeps cannot be accurately determined, and this monument is only raised to his memory. The prospect from these heights, as well, repays a visit to the grotto of Pasalip, where we wander for a long time in deep darkness, until we suddenly emerge into the broad light of day to find ourselves surrounded by a most lovely landscape. The public garden of Naples is also situate in this quarter of the town. It extends to the lower portion of the Strata Ciaga, is of great length without being broad, and displays a vast number of beautiful statues, prospects, and ware plants. A large and handsome street containing many fine houses adjoins it on one side. I also rode to the Vomero, on which are erected the King's Pleasure Palace and a small convent. A glorious prospect here unfolds itself. Naples with its bay, Pusoli, and a number of beautiful islands, the Lake Anyaro, the extinct craters of Sulphatara, Bay, the Suvious, with its chain of mountains, and the Stapendous Ocean, like grouped, in varied forms and gorgeously blending colors, before the gaze of the astonished spectator. This is the place of which the Neapolitan say, with some justice, hither should men come and gaze and die. Still, the prospects from St. Rosalia's Mount, and from the Royal Palace, Favorita, at Palermo, had better pleased me. For there the beauties of nature are more crowded together, are nearer to the spectator. He can obtain a more complete view of them, while in varied gorgeousness they do not yield the palm even to the fairy pictures of Naples. I more than once spent half a day in the Academy-Degli Studi, for in this place much was to be seen. The entrance to the building is indescribably beautiful. Both the portico and the handsome staircases are ornamented with statues and busts executed in most artistic style. A door on the right leads us to a hall in which the paintings from Pompeii and Herculaneum are displayed. Several of these relics have no small pretentious to beauty, and the colors of almost all are still wonderfully bright and fresh. In the great hall at the end of the courtyard we find on one side the Farnese Hercules, and on the other the Bull, both works of the Athenian Glycon. These two antiques, particularly the latter, have been in a great measure restored. The gallery of great bronzes is considered the first in the world, for here we find united the finest works of ancient times. So many beautiful creations of art were here brought together that if I attempted a description of them I should not know where to begin. Opposite the gallery of bronzes is that allotted to the marbles, among which a beautiful Venus stands prominently forth. In the gallery of Flora a statue of the same goddess called the Farnese is also the principal attention. A statue of Apollo playing on the lyre of Porphyry is the greatest masterpiece in the Hall of Colored Marbles, while in the gallery of the Muses a basin of Athenian Porphyry occupies the first place. In the Adonis room the beautiful Venus and Adyomeni engrossed my chief attention, and in the cabinet of Venus the Venus calipagos forms an exquisite side-piece to the Venus de Medici. The upper regions of this splendid building contain an extensive library and a picture gallery. I also pay to visit to the catacombs of St. Genarius, which extend three stories high on a mountain, and are full of little niches, five or six of which are often found one above the other. In the chapel Santa Maria della Pietà in the palace St. Severino I admired three of the finest and most valuable marble statues that can be found anywhere. I mean veiled innocents, malice in a net, and a veiled recumbent figure of Christ. All three are by the sculptor Bernini. The largest church in the town is the cathedral dedicated to St. Genarius. This structure rests on a hundred and ten columns of Egyptian and African granite, standing three by three embedded in the walls. The church has not a very imposing appearance. The chief altar, beneath which the body of St. Genarius is deposited, is ornamented with many kinds of valuable marble. Here I saw a great number of pictures, most of them of considerable merit. The chapel of St. Genarius, also called the Chapel of the Treasure, is one of the most gorgeous shrines that can be built. The Neapolitan's built it as a thank offering at the cessation of a plague. The cost was above a million of dukets, and the wealth of this chapel is greater than that of any church in Christendom. It is built in a circular form, and all the resources of art have been lavished on the decoration of the chief altar. Every spot is covered with treasures and works of art, and the roof is supported by forty-two Corinthian pillars of dark red stone. All the decorations of the high altar, the immense candelabra and massive flower vases, are of silver. At a grand festival, when everything is richly illuminated, the appearance of this chapel must be gorgeous in the extreme. The head and two bottles of the blood of St. Genarius are preserved here. The people assert that this blood liquefies every year. The frescoes on the ceiling are splendidly painted, and on the square before the church is to be seen an obelisk surmounted by a statue of St. Genarius. St. Geronimo has an imposing appearance when one first enters. The whole roof of this church, as far downwards as the pillars, is covered with beautiful arabesque sun figures. It also contains some fine paintings and is, besides, renowned for its architecture. St. Paola Maggiore, another spacious church, is well worth seeing on account of its magnificent arabesques and fresco paintings. Besides these it also contains some handsome monuments and statues of marble. Two very ancient pillars stand in front of the church. St. Chiarra, a fine, large church, offers some fine monuments and oil paintings. Among the excursions in the neighborhood of Naples, that to Pizzoli is certainly the most interesting. After passing through the great grotto, we reach the ancient and rather important town of Pizzoli with 8,000 inhabitants. Cicero called this place a little Rome. In the center of the town stands the church of St. Proculus, which was converted from a heathen into a Christian temple and is surrounded by fine-looking Corinthian pillars. Remarkable beyond all else is the ruined temple of Seriopis. Almost the entire magnitude and arrangement of this magnificent building can yet be discerned. A few of the pillars that once supported the cupola are still erect, and several of the cells which surrounded the temple and were once used as baths can still be seen. Everything here is a fine white marble. The greater portion of the ruin was dismantled to be used in the construction of the royal villa of Cicerta. The harbor of Pizzoli is related to have been the finest in Italy. In this place Caligula had a bridge erected to Ba'i about 4,000 paces in length. He undertook this gigantic work in consequence of a prophecy that was made to him that he would no more become emperor than he could ride to Ba'i on horseback. This prophecy he confuted and became emperor. Of the amphitheater and the coliseum not a trace remains. A little chapel now occupies the side on which they stood. Ciceroan asserts that it is built on the very spot where Saint Genarius was thrown to the bears. Not far from this chapel we are shown the labyrinth of Dedalus. Several of its winding walks still exist, through which it would be difficult to find the way without a Ciceroan. We ascended the hill immediately beyond the city on which some remains of Cicero's villa are yet to be seen. Here we enjoyed a splendid prospect. CHAPTER 19 OF A VISIT TO THE HOLY LAND, EGYPT AND ITALY, PART 2 BY IDA EL FIFER In this region we continually wander among ruins and see everywhere around us the relics of the past. This a short walk brought us from Cicero's villa to the remains of three temples, those of Diana, Venus, and Mercury. Of the first, one side and a few little cells, called the baths of Venus, alone remain. Part of Venus's temple stands in the rotunda. It was built on acoustic principles, so that anyone who puts his ear to a certain part of the wall can hear what is whispered at the opposite extremity. A few fragments of the rotunda were the only trace left of the temple of Diana. The vapor baths of Nero, hewn out of the rock, consist of several passages into which it is impossible to penetrate far on account of the heat. A boy ran to the spring and brought us some boiling water. He returned from his expedition fiery red in the face and covered with perspiration. These poor lads are accustomed to remain at the spring until they have succeeded in boiling some eggs, but I would not allow any such cruelty, and did not even wish them to fetch me the water. But Herbrecht Schneider would have it so in spite of me. From this place we crossed by sea to bayi, where at one time many of the rich people had their villas. Their proceedings here are said, however, to have been of so immoral a character that at length it was considered wrong to have resided here any time. Every visitor must be enchanted with the fertility of this region and with its lovely aspect. A castle, now used as a barrack for veterans, crowns the summit of a rock which stands prominently forth. A few unimportant traces can still be here discovered of an ancient temple of Hercules. Some masonry in the form of a monument marks the alleged spot where Agrippina was murdered and buried by order of her son. The immense reservoir built by order of the Emperor Augustus for the purpose of supplying the fleet with fresh water is situate in the neighborhood of Bayi. It is called Piscina. This giant structure contains several large chambers, their roofs supported by numerous columns. To view this reservoir we are compelled to descend a flight of steps. Not far from the before mentioned building we come upon the Cento Camarelle, a prison consisting of a multitude of small cells. On our way back we visit Sulfaltara, the celebrated crater plane about 1,000 feet in length by 800 in breadth, skirted by hills. Its volcanic power is not yet wholly extinct. In several places, brimstone fumes, whence the plane derives its name, are still seen rising into the air, which they impregnate with the most noxious odor. On striking the ground with a stick a sound is produced, from which we can judge that the whole space beneath us is hollow. The excursion is a very disagreeable one. We are continually marching across a mere crust of earth, which may give way at any moment. I found here a manufactory of brimstone and alum. A little church belonging to the capuchins, where we are shown a stone on which St. Janarius was decapitated after the bears had refused to tear him to pieces, stands on a hill near the Sulfaltara. Towards evening we reached the dog's grotto. A huntsman from the royal preserve Astrone accompanied us, and fetched the man who keeps the keys of the grotto. This functionary soon appeared with a couple of dogs to furnish us with the practical illustration of the convulsions caused by the foul air of the cavern. But I declined the experiment, and contented myself with viewing the grotto. It is of small extent, about eight or ten feet long, not more than five in breadth and six or eight high. I entered the cave, and so long as I remained direct felt no inconvenience. So soon as I bent towards the ground, however, and the lower stratum of air blew upon my face, I experienced a most horrible choking sensation. After we had satisfied our curiosity the huntsman led us to the neighboring hunting lodge, and to a little lake where a number of ducks are fattened. This man spoke of another and much more remarkable grotto of which he possessed the keys, and which he should have great pleasure in showing us. Though twilight was rapidly approaching we determined to go, as the place was not far off. The man opened the door and invited us to enter the cavern, advising us at the same time to bend down open-mouthed as we had done in the dog's grotto, and at the same time to fan the air upwards with our hands, so that we might the better inhale it, a proceeding which he asserted to be peculiarly good for the digestive organs. His eloquence was so powerful that we could not help suspecting the man, and it struck us as very strange that he was so particularly anxious we should enter the cavern together. This therefore we refused to do, and Herr Brötzschneider remained outside with our guide, while I entered alone and did as he had directed. Though the lower stratum of air in the dog's grotto had been highly mephitic, the atmosphere here was more stifling still. I rushed forth with the speed of lightning, and now we clearly saw through the fellow's intention. If Herr Brötzschneider and myself had entered together, he would undoubtedly have shut the door, and we should have been stifled in a few moments. We did not allow him to notice our suspicions, but merely said that we could not spend any more time here today on account of the lateness of the hour. Our worthy friend accompanied us through a wild and gloomy region, with his gun on his shoulder, and I was not a little afraid of him, for he kept talking about his honesty and the good intentions he had towards us. We kept, however, close beside him, and watched him narrowly without betraying any symptom of apprehension, and at length, to our great relief, we gained the open road. The royal villa of Portici lies about four miglia from Naples, and we made an excursion dither by railway. Both the palace and the gardens are handsome, and of considerable size. Thence we proceed to Rossina. Portici and Rossina are so closely connected together by villas and houses that a stranger would take them for one place. Beneath Rossina lies Herculaneum, a city destroyed seventy-nine years after the birth of our Savior. In the year 1689 a marquise caused a well to be dug in his garden, when, at a depth of sixty-five feet, the laborers came upon fragments of marble with diverse inscriptions. It was not until seventeen-twenty that systematic excavations were made. Even then great caution was necessary, as Rossina is unfortunately built upon Herculaneum, and the safety of the houses became endangered. At Rossina we procured torches and a guide, and descended to view the subterranean city. We saw the theatre, a number of houses, several temples, and the forum. Some fine frescoes are still to be distinguished on the walls of the apartments. The floors are covered with mosaic, but still this place does not offer nearly so many objects of interest as another, which was overwhelmed at the same time, Pompeii. Pompeii is without doubt the most remarkable city of its kind that exists. A great portion of the town is surrounded by walls, and entire rows of houses, several temples, the theatre, the forum, in short a vast number of buildings, streets, and squares lay open before us. The more I wandered through the streets and open places, the more I involuntarily wondered not to find the inhabitants and laborers employed in repairing the houses, I could hardly realize the idea that so many beautiful houses and well-preserved apartments should be untenanted. The deserted aspect of this town had a very melancholy effect in my eyes. Though a great portion of the town has already been dug out, only three hundred skeletons have been found, a proof that the greater portion of the inhabitants affected their escape. In many houses I found splendid, tasselated pavements, representing flowers, wreaths, animals, and arabesques. Even the halls and courtyards were decorated with the larger kind of mosaic work. The walls of the rooms are plastered over with a description of firm, polished enamel, frequently looking like marble and covered with beautiful frescoes. In Saloust's house a whole row of wine jugs still stands in the cellar. In the houses the division of the rooms and the purposes to which the different apartments were devoted can still be distinctly traced. In general they are very small, and the windows seldom look out upon the street. Deep ruts of carriages can still be seen in the streets. All of the treasures of art which could be removed, such as statues, pictures, etc., were carried off to Naples and placed in the museum there. In the agreeable society of Hare M. and Madame Bretschneider, I rode away from Rossina at eleven in the forenoon. A pleasant road winding among vineyards brought us in an hour's time to the neighborhood of the great lava field, Torre Del Greco. It is a fearful sight to behold these grand mounds of lava towering in a most various form around us. All traces of vegetation have vanished. Far and wide we can describe nothing but hardened masses, which once rushed in molten streams down the mountain. A capital constructed road leads us, without the slightest fatigue, through the midst of this scene of devastation, to the usual resting place of travelers, the Hermitage. At this dwelling we made halt, ascended to the upper story, and called for a bottle of Lecreme Christe. The view here, and at several other points of our ascent, is most charming. The hermit seems, however, to lead anything but a solitary life, for a day seldom passes on which strangers do not call in to claim his attention in proportion as they run up a score. The clerical gentleman is, in fact, no more and no less than a very common innkeeper, and partakes of the goodly obesity frequently noticed among persons of his class. We stayed three-quarters of an hour in the domicile of this hermit-host, and afterwards rode on toward the heights, along a beautiful road amid fields of lava. In half an hour's time, however, we were completely shut in by lava fields, and here the beaten track ended. We now dismounted and continued our ascent on foot. It is difficult for one who has not seen it to picture to himself the scene that lay around us. Devastation everywhere, lava covering the whole region in heaps upon heaps, fantastically piled one on the other. Here a large, isolated mound rises, seemingly cut off on all sides from the lava around. There we see how a mighty stream once rushed down the mountain side, and cooled gradually into stone. These chasms are filled with lava masses, which have lain here for many years cold and motionless, and will probably remain for as many more, for their fury has spent itself. The lava is of different colors, according as it has been exposed to the atmosphere for a longer or a shorter period. The oldest lava has the hue of granite, and almost its hardness, for which reasons it is largely used for building houses and paving streets. From the place where we left our donkeys we had to climb upwards for nearly an hour over the lava before reaching the crater. The ascent is somewhat fatiguing, as we are obliged to be very careful at every step to avoid entangling our feet among the blocks of lava. Still, the difficulty is not nearly so great as people make out. It is merely necessary to wear good thick boots, and then all goes extremely well. The higher we mount, the more numerous do the fishers become from which smoke bursts forth. In one of these clefs we placed some eggs, which were completely boiled in four minutes' time. Near these places the ground is so hot that we could not have stood still for many minutes. Still, we did not get burdened feet or anything of the kind. On reaching the crater we found ourselves enveloped in so thick a fog that we could not see ten paces in advance. There was nothing for it but to sit down and wait patiently until the sun could penetrate the mist and spread light and cheerfulness among us. Then we descended into the crater and approached as closely as possible to the place from which the smoky column whirls into the air. The road was a gloomy one, for we were shut in as in a bowl, and could discern around us nothing but mountains of lava, while before us rose the huge smoky column threatening each moment to shroud us in darkness as the wind blew it in clouds in our direction. When the ground was struck with a stick it gave forth a hollow rumbling sound like at Sulphatara. In the neighborhood of the column of smoke we could see nothing more than at the edge from which we had climbed downwards, a peculiar picture of an parallel devastation. The circumference of the crater seems not to have changed since the visit of Herr Luwald, who a few years ago estimated its dimensions at five thousand feet. After once more mounting to the brim we walked round a great part of the edge of the basin. At the particular desire of Herr M., who was well acquainted with all the remarkable points about the volcano, our guide now led the way to the so-called hell, a little crater which formed itself in the year 1834. To reach it we had to climb about over fields of lava for half an hour. The aspect of this hell did not strike me as particularly grand. An uneven wall of lava suddenly rose fifteen paces in advance of us with a whole strata of pure sulfur and other beautifully colored substances depending from its projecting angles. One of these substances was of a snowy white color, light, and very porous. I took a piece with me, but the next day on proceeding to pack it carefully I found that above half had melted and become quite soft and damp so that I was compelled to throw the hole away. The same thing happened to a mass of a red color that I had brought away with me, and which had a beautiful effect, like glowing lava, clinging to the fissures and sides of the rocks. We held pieces of paper to the fissures in this wall, and they immediately became ignited. Herr M. then threw in a cigar which also burst into flame. The heat proceeding from these clefs was so great that we could not bear to hold our hands there for an instant. We laid our ears to the ground and could hear a rushing, bubbling sound as though water was boiling beneath us. There was really much to see in this hell, without the discomfort of being enveloped in the offensive, sulfurous smoke of the chief crater. After staying for several hours in and about the crater we left it, and returned by the steep way over the cone of cinders. The descent here is almost perpendicular, and we could hardly escape with whole skins if it were not for the fact that we sink ankle-deep into sand and cinders at every step. To avoid falling it is requisite to bend the body backwards and step upon the heel. By observing this precaution the worst that can happen to one is to sit down involuntarily once or twice, without danger to life or limb. In twelve minutes we had reached the spot where our donkey stood. We reached Rossina during the darkness of night, having spent eight hours in our excursion. My last trip was to the castle of Caserta, distant sixteen miglia from Naples, in the direction of Capua. It is considered one of the finest pleasure-palaces in Europe, and I was exceedingly pleased with its appearance. The building is of a square form, with a portico five hundred and seven feet long, supported by ninety-eight columns of the finest marble. The staircase and halls in the upper story alone must have cost enormous sums, as well as the chapel on the first floor, which is very rich and gorgeous. The saloons and apartments are decorated in a peculiarly splendid manner, with the multiplicity of frescoes, oil paintings, sculptures, gildings, costly silk hangings, marbles, etc. A pretty little theater, with well-painted scenery, is to be found in the palace. The garden is extensive, particularly as regards length. A hill from which a considerable stream rushes foaming over artificial rockwork into the deeper recesses of the garden rises at its extremity. Scarcely has this river sunk to rest, flowing slowly and majestically through a bed formed of large square stones, before it is compelled to form another cascade, and another, and one more until it almost reaches the castle, near which a large basin has been constructed, from once the water is lead into the town. Even from the portico these waterfalls have a lovely appearance. From Caserta we drove ten miles farther on to the celebrated aqueduct, which supplies the whole of Naples with water. It is truly a marvelous work. Over three stupendous arched ways, one above the other, the necessary quantity of water flows into the city. This was my last excursion. On the following day, the seventh of November, at three in the morning, I left Naples. But from the delightful reminiscences of lovely natural scenes, I shall always think with pleasure on my sojourn in Naples in connection with Herbretzschneider and his lady. I was a complete stranger to them when I delivered my note of introduction, and yet they at once welcomed me as kindly and heartily as though I had belonged to their family. How many hours and even days did they not devote to me, to accompany me sometimes to one place, sometimes to another? How eagerly did they seek to show me all the riches of nature and art displayed in this favoured city. I was truly proud and delighted at having found such friends, and once more do I offer them my sincere thanks. CHAPTER XXI I traveled by the mail carriage. By seven in the morning we were at Caserta, and an hour later at Capua, a pretty, bustling town on the banks of a river. Our road was most picturesque, we drove among vineyards and gardens through the midst of a lovely plain. On the right were mountains, increasing in number as we proceeded, and imparting a rich variety to the landscape. At noon we halted before a lovely inn. From this point the country increases in beauty at every step. The heights are strikingly fertile, and in the valley an excellent road winds amid pleasant gardens. The mountains frequently seemed to approach as though about to form an impenetrable pass, while ruins crown the summits of the rocks and give a romantic appearance to the whole. At about three o'clock we reached the little town of Gereomania, lying in the midst of vegetable gardens. Above this town the handsome convent of Montecasino stands on a rock, and in its neighborhood we noticed the ruins of an amphitheater. Today the weather was not in the least Italian, being on the contrary gloomy and rough, as we generally find it in Austria at the same time of the year. Yesterday it was so cold at Naples that Mount Vesuvius was covered with snow during several hours. The dress of the peasants in these regions is of a more national character than I had yet found it. The women wear short and scanty petticoats of blue or red cloth, tight-fitting bodices, and gaily striped aprons. Their headdress consists of a white handkerchief, with a second above it folded in a square form. The men look like robbers, with their long dark blue or brown cloaks in which they wrap themselves so closely that it is difficult to get a glimpse of their faces, and their steeple-crowned black hats they quite resemble the pictures of the bandits in the Abruci. They glide about in so spectral a manner, and I, travelers, was such a sinister look that I almost became uncomfortable. From Jeromania we still had a few miles to travel until we entered the Roman territory near Soprano. In Naples, and in fact throughout the whole of Italy, the passports are continually called for, a great annoyance to the traveler. In the course of today my passport was vis-à five times, making once in every little town through which we had passed. It was our fortune at Soprano to lodge with the very cheating host. In the evening when I inquired the price of a bedroom and breakfast, they told me a bed would cost two pauls and breakfast half a paul, but when I came to pay the host asked three pauls for my bedroom and another for a cup of the worst coffee I have ever drunk, and the whole company was subjected to the same extortion. We expostulated and complained, but were at length compelled to comply with the demand. November 8. The landscape remains the same, but the appearance of the towns and villages is not nearly so neat and pretty as in the Neapolitan domain. The costume of the peasants is like that worn by the people whom we met yesterday, accepting that the women have a stiff stomacher fastened with a red lace instead of the spencer. The dress of the men consists of short knee-breaches, brown stockings, heavy shoes, and a jacket of some dark color. Somewhere in addition to this a red waistcoat and a green sash round the waist, all where the conical hat. In cold weather the dark bandits' cloak is also seen. As we approach Rome the country becomes more and more barren, the mountains recede, and the extended plains have a desert uncultivated look. Towns and villages become so thinly scattered that it seems as though the whole region were depopulated. The road is rather narrow, and as the country is in many places exceedingly marshy, a great portion of it has been paved. For many miles before we enter Rome we do not pass a single town or village. At length, some three hours before we reach the city, the dome of St. Peter's is seen looming in the distance. One church after another appears, and at length the whole city lies spread before us. Many ruins of aqueducts and buildings of every kind showed at every step what treasures of the past here awaited us. I was particularly pleased with the old town gate, Latteren, by which we entered. It was already quite dark when we reached the dogana. I at once betook myself to my room and retired to rest. I remained a fortnight at Rome and walked about the streets from morning till night. I visited St. Peter's almost every day and went to the Vatican several times. All the squares in Rome, and there are great many, are decorated with fountains, and still more frequently with obelisks. The finest is the piazza d'opopolo. To the right rises the Terrace Hill Piscino, rich in pillars, fountains, and other ornaments, a favorite walk of the citizens. On this hill, which is arranged after the manner of a beautiful garden, we have a splendid view. The city of Rome here appears to much greater advantage than when we approach it from the direction of Naples. We can see the whole town at one glance, with the yellow tiber flowing through the midst, and a vast plain all around. The background is closed by beautiful mountain ranges, with villas, little towns, and cottages on the declivities. But I missed one feature, to which I had become so accustomed, that the most beautiful view appeared incomplete without it—the sea. To make up for this drawback we here encounter wherever we walk such a number of ruins that we soon become forgetful of all around us and live only in the past. The piazza d'opopolo forms the termination of the three principal streets in Rome. On the largest and finest of these, the Corso, many palaces are to be seen. The splendid post office of Whitemarble rises on the Colana Square. Two clocks are erected on this building, one with our dial, one with the Italian. At night both are illuminated, a very useful as well as an ornamental arrangement. The ancient column of Antoninus also stands in this square. The façade of the dogana boasts some pillars from the temple of Antoninus Pius. The objects I have just enumerated struck me particularly as I wended my way to St. Peter's. I cannot describe how deeply I was impressed by the sight of this colossal structure. I need only state the fact that on the first day I entered the cathedral at nine in the morning, and did not emerge from its gates until three in the afternoon. I sat down before the pictures in Mosaic, underneath the huge dome and the canopy, then I stood before the statues and monuments, and could only gaze in wonder at everything. The expense of building and decorating this church is said to have amounted to forty-five million eight hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars. It occupies the site of Nero's Circus. Two arcades with four rows of pillars and ninety-six statues surround the square leading to the church. The façade of St. Peter's is decorated with Corinthian pillars, and on its parapet stands statues fifty-two feet in height. The entrance is so crowded with statues, carved work, and gilding that several hours may be spent in examining its wonders. The traveller's attention is particularly attracted by the gigantic gates of bronze. I cannot adequately describe this blender of the interior, nor have I seen anything with which I could compare it. The most beautiful mosaics, monuments, statues, carvings in bronze, gilded ornaments, in short, everything that art can produce, are here to be found in the highest perfection. Oil paintings alone are excluded. Everything here is in mosaic. Even the cupola displays mosaic work instead of the usual fresco paintings. Immense statues of white marble occupy the niches. Beneath the cupola, the finest portion of the building stands the great altar, at which none but the pope may read mass. Over this altar extends a giant canopy of bronze, with spiral pillars richly decorated with arabesques. The weight of metal used in its construction was one hundred eighty-six thousand, three hundred ninety-two pounds, and the cost of the gold for gilding was forty thousand dollars. The entire canopy is worth above one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The cupola was executed by Michelangelo. It rests on four massive pillars, each of them furnished with a balcony. In the interior of these pillars, chapels are constructed, where the chief relics are kept, and only displayed to the people from the balcony at particular times. I was in the church at the time when the handkerchief, which wiped the drops of agony from our Lord's brow, and a piece of the true cross were shown. The pulpit stands in a very elevated position, and was executed in bronze by Bernini. Two hundred nineteen thousand one hundred sixty-one pounds of metal, and one hundred and seventy-two thousand dollars, were spent upon its construction. In the interior is concealed the wooden pulpit, from which St. Peter preached, and immediately beside this we find a pillar of white marble, said to have belonged to Solomon's temple at Jerusalem. The lions on the monument of Clement XIII by Canova are considered the finest that were ever sculptured. I was fortunate enough to penetrate into the catacombs of St. Peter's, a favor which women rarely obtain, and which I only owed to my having been a pilgrim at Jerusalem. These catacombs consist of handsome passages and pillars of masonry, which do not, however, exceed eight or nine feet in height. A number of sarcophagi containing the remains of emperors and popes are here deposited. The roof of St. Peter's covers an immense area and is divided into a number of cupolas, chambers, and buildings. A fountain of running water is even found here. From this roof we have a splendid view as far as the sea and the apanines. We can describe the entire Vatican which adjoins the church, as well as the pope's gardens. I ascended to the ball in the great cupola, where there is nothing to be seen, as there is not the slightest opening, much less a window left in it. Nothing is to be gained by mounting into this dark, narrow receptacle but the glory of being able to say, I have been there. It is far more interesting to look down from the windows and galleries of the great cupola into the body of the church itself. For then we can estimate the grandeur of the colossal building, and the people who walk about beneath appear like dwarves. Two noble fountains decked the square in front of St. Peter's, and in the midst towers a magnificent obelisk from Heliopolis, said to weigh 992,789 pounds. Near this obelisk are two slabs, by standing on either of which we can see all the rows of columns melted as it were into one. My journey to Jerusalem also obtained for me an audience of the pope. His holiness received me in a great hall adjoining the Sistine Chapel. Considering his great age of seventy-eight years, the pope still has a noble presence and most amiable manners. He asked me some questions, gave me his blessing, and permitted me at parting to kiss the embroidered slipper. My second walk was to the Vatican. Here I saw the immense halls of Raphael, the staircases of Bramante and Bernini, and the Sistine Chapel, containing Michelangelo's masterpieces, the world-renowned frescoes. The immense wall behind the High Altar represents the last judgment, while the ceilings are covered with prophets and sibles. The picture gallery contains many works of the great masters, as does also the gallery of vases and candelabra. The biga chamber. The biga is an antique carriage of white marble, drawn by two horses. In the gallery of statues the figure representing Nero as Apollo playing on the lyre is the finest. In the gallery of busts those of Menelus and Jupiter preeminently attract attention. The name of the Laocoon cabinets indicates the masterpiece it contains, as also the cabinet of the Apollo Belvedere. The latter statue was found in Nero's baths at Porto Danzio. The celebrated torso of the Belvedere, a fragment of Greek art, which Michael partly used as his model, is placed in the square vestibule. Never was flesh so pliably counterfeited in stone as in this masterpiece. A long gallery contains a series of tapestries, the designs for which were drawn by Raphael. The Vatican contains ten thousand rooms, twenty large halls, eight large and about two hundred small staircases. The Curonal Palace, the summer residence of the Pope, lies on the hill of the same name, Monte Cavallo, which is quite covered with villas and beautiful houses on account of the solubrity of the air. I visited most of the private palaces and picture galleries. The principal are the Colonna Palace, on the Curonal Hill, the Barbarini Palace, where we find a portrait of Raphael's mistress, Fornarina, painted by himself, and an original picture of Beatrice Senzi by Guido Steri. The finest of all the Roman palaces is that of the Borghese. From its form, which resembles a piano, this building has obtained the name of Il Sembalo di Borghese. The gallery contains sixteen hundred paintings, most of them masterpieces by celebrated artists. The Farnese Palace is remarkable for its architecture, and the Stopani for its architect, Raphael. Besides these, there are many other palaces. I saw but few villas, for the weather was generally bad, and it rained almost every day. I visited the Villa Borghese on a Sunday, when there is a great vessel here, for a stream of people on foot, on horseback, and in carriages, sets in towards its beautiful park, situate just beyond the Piazza del Popolo, on the same way that the crowds flock to our beloved Praetor on a fine day in spring. I also saw the Villa Medici's and the Villa Panfili, the latter boast a very extensive park. I took care to visit most of the churches. My plan was to go out early in the morning and to inspect several churches until about eleven o'clock, when it was time to repair to the galleries. When I went to the principal churches, for instance, those of St. John of Lateran, St. Paul, St. Maria Maggiore, St. Loris, and St. Sebastian, I was always accompanied by a guide specially appointed to conduct strangers to the churches. I could fill volumes with the description of the riches and magnificence they display. The church of St. John of Lateran possesses the wooden altar at which St. Peter is said to have read mass, the wooden table at which Jesus sat to eat the last supper, and the heads of the disciples, Peter and Paul. Near this church, in a building specially constructed for it, is the Scala Santa, holy staircase, which was brought from Jerusalem and deposited here. This is a flight of twenty-eight steps of white marble, covered with boards, which no one is allowed to ascend or descend in the regular way, every man being required to shuffle up and down on his knees. Near this holy stair a common one is built, which it is lawful to ascend in the regular way. The Basilica of St. Paul lies beyond the gate of the same name, in a very insolubrious neighborhood. It is only just rebuilt after having been destroyed by fire. The Basilica Maria Maggiore, in which is deposited the holy gate, has the highest belfry in Rome, and above its portico we see a beautiful chamber where the new pope stands to dispense the first blessing among the people. In the Chapel of the Crucifix, five pieces of the wood of the Savior's manger are preserved in a silver urn. St. Lorenzo, a mile from the town, is a very plain-looking edifice. Here we find the Campo Santo or Cemetery. The graves are covered with large blocks of stone. St. Bessoriana is also called the Church of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem, from the fact that a piece of the cross is preserved here. Besides the letters I-N-R-I, some thorns and a pale. St. Sebastian in the suburbs, one of the most ancient Roman churches, is built over the great catacombs, in which 174,000 Christians were buried. The catacombs are some stories deep, and extend over a large area. All the above-named basilicas are so empty, and stand on such lonely spots that I was almost afraid to visit them alone. The handsome church of Santa Maria in Travestare contrasts strangely with the quarter of the town in which it lies. This part of Rome is inhabited by people calling themselves descendants of the ancient Trojans. Santa Maria Admateres, or the Rotunda, once the pantheon of Agrippa, is in better preservation than any other monument of ancient Rome. The interior is almost in its pristine condition. It contains no less than fifteen altars. In this church Raphael is buried. The Rotunda has no windows, but receives air and light through a circular opening in the cupola. The best view of ancient Rome is to be obtained from the tower of the Senate House. From this place we see stretched out beneath us Mount Palantene, the side of ancient Rome, the capital in the midst of the city, the Quirinal Hill, Montecavallo, with the summer residents of the Pope, the Esquiline Mount, the loftiest of the hills, Mount Avantine, the Vatican, and lastly Montetestaccio, consisting entirely of broken pottery which the Romans throw down here. I also pay to visit to the Ponte Publicus, the most ancient bridge in Rome, in the neighborhood of which Horatius Clocleis achieved his heroic action, and the Tullian prison beneath the church of St. Joseph of Falniani, where Ducortha was starved to death. The staircase leading up to the building is called the Steps of Size. The capital has unfortunately fallen into decay. We can barely distinguish a few remains of temples and other buildings. Of the graves of the Scipios I could discover also little more than the site. The subterranean passages are nearly all destroyed. The Mars field is partly covered with buildings and partly used as a promenade. Cestius's grave is uncommonly well preserved, and a pyramid of large square stones surrounds a sarcophagus. The aqueducts are built of large blocks of stone fastened together without mortar. They are now no longer used, as they have partly fallen into decay, and some of the springs have dried up. The hot baths of Titus are well worth a visit, though in a ruined condition. Here the celebrated Laconian group was found. Near these baths is the great reservoir called the Seven Halls of Titus. One of the greatest and best preserved buildings of ancient Rome is the Amphitheater of Flavius, or the Colosseum, amongst the scene of the combats with wild beasts. It was capable of holding eighty-seven thousand spectators. Four stories yet remain. This building is seen to the greatest advantage by torchlight. I was fortunate enough to find an opportunity of joining a large party, and we were thus enabled to divide the expense. The triumphal arch of Titus, of white marble covered with glorious sculptures, the arches of Septimus Severus, and of Janus and several other antique monuments are to be seen near the Colosseum. The beautiful bridge of St. Angelo, constructed entirely of square blocks of stone, leads across the Tiber to the castle of the same name, the Tomb of Hadrian. The emperor caused this large round building to be erected for his future mausoleum. It is built of immense stone blocks and now serves as a fortress and a state prison. The temple of Marcus Aurelius is converted into the dogana. That of Minerva Medica lies in the midst of a vineyard and is built in the form of a rotunda. The upper part has sunk in. There are twelve obelisks in the different public squares of Rome, all brought from Egypt. I still have to mention the one hundred and eight fountains, from which fresh water continually spouts into the air. Most among them in size and beauty is the Fontana Trevi. I was prevented by the bad weather from making trips to any distance, but one afternoon I drove to Tivoli. The road leading thither is called the Tiberntinium. After traveling for about six miles we became conscious of a dreadfully offensive sulfurous smell, and soon found that it proceeds from a little river running through the Sulfatara. A ride of eighteen Italian miles brought us to the town of Tivoli, lying amidst olive-woods on the declivity of the Apennines and numbering about seven thousand inhabitants. Towards evening I took a short walk in the town, beneath the protection of an umbrella, and was not much pleased. Next morning I left the house early and proceeded to the temple of Sibylla, built on a rock opposite to the waterfall. Afterwards I went to view the grotto of Neptune, and that through which the Arno flows, rushing out of the cavern to fall headlong over a ledge of lofty rocks, and form the Cascade of Tivoli. The best view of this fall is obtained from the bridge. Besides many pretty minor cascades I saw a number of ruins. The most remarkable among these was the villa of Mycenaeus. CHAPTER XXIII. At six o'clock this morning I commenced my journey to Florence with a venturino. Since the whole distance the weather was in the highest degree unfavorable. It was foggy, rainy, and very cold. A journey through Italy during autumn or winter is far from agreeable, for there are generally cold and rain to be encountered, and no warm rooms to be found in the ins, where fires are never kindled until after the guests have arrived. And the fires they light in the grates are, after all, quite inadequate to warm the damp, unerred rooms, and the traveller feels scorched and cold almost at the same moment. The floors are all of stone, but a few straw mats are sometimes spread beneath the dining tables. The landscape through which we travelled today did not possess many attractions. For about forty miles, as far as Rensiglione, we saw neither town nor village. The aspect of Rensiglione is rather melancholy, though it boasts a broad street and many houses of two stories. But the latter all have a gloomy look, and the town itself appears to be thinly populated. We passed the night here. According to Italian custom I had made a bargain with the proprietor of our vehicle for the journey, including lodging and board. I was well satisfied, for he strictly kept his contract. But whoever expects more than one meal a day under an arrangement of this sort will find himself grievously mistaken, the traveller who wishes to take anything in the morning or in the middle of the day must pay out of his own pocket. I found everything here exceedingly expensive and very bad. November twenty-fourth. Today we passed through some very pretty, though not populous, districts. In the afternoon we at length reached two towns, namely Fidderbow, with thirteen thousand inhabitants lying in a fruitful plain, and Montefiesconi, built on a high hill, and backed by lofty mountains on which a celebrated vine is cultivated. At the foot of the hill, near Montefiesconi, lies a small lake, and farther on, one of considerable size, the Lago di Balsana, with a little town of the same name, once the capital of the Volci, an ancient fortress rises in the midst of this town, surrounded by tall and venerable houses as with a wreath. We now had to cross a considerable mountain, an undertaking of some difficulty, when we consider how heavy the rain had fallen. By the aid of an extra pair of horses we passed safely over the miserable roads, and took up our quarters for the night and the little village of Lorenzo. We had already reached the domain of the Apennines. November twenty-fifth. We had now only a few more hours to travel through the papal dominions. The river Centino forms the boundary between the states of the church and Tuscany. The greater portion of the region around us gave tokens of its volcanic origin. We saw several grottos and caverns of broken stone resembling lava, balsaltic columns, etc. The Dogana of Tuscany, a handsome building, stands in the neighborhood of Ponte Centino. The country here wears a wild aspect as far as the eye can stretch. It rests upon mountains of different elevations. The little town of Radicofani lies on the plateau of a considerable hill, surrounded by rocks and huge blocks of stone. A citadel, or ancient fortress, towers romantically above the little town, and old towers look down from the summit of many a hill and cliff. The character of the lower mountain range is exceedingly peculiar. It is split into gaps and fissures in all directions as though it had but recently emerged from the main. For many hours we almost rode through a flood. The water streamed down the streets, and the wind howled round our carriage with such violence that we seriously anticipated being blown over. Luckily the streets in the Tuscan are better than those in the Roman territory, and the rivers are crossed by firm stone bridges. Today our poor horses had a hard time of it. Up hill and downhill, past yawning chasms, our way lay for a long time through a desert and barren district, until, at a little distance from the village of Juan Covento, the scene suddenly changed, and a widely extended, hilly country with beautiful planes, the lovely town of Siena, numerous villages great and small, these homesteads and handsome farms and solitary churches built on hills lay spread before us. Everything showed traces of cultivation and opulence. Most of the women and girls we met were employed in plating straw. Here all wear straw hats, men, women, and children. At five in the evening we at length reached Siena. Our poor horses were so exhausted by the bad roads of the Apennines that the driver requested leave to make a day's halt here. This interruption to our journey was far from being unwelcome to me, for Siena is well worthy to be explored. November 27. The town number sixteen thousand inhabitants, and is divided almost into two halves by a long, handsome street. The remaining streets are small, irregular, and dirty. The Piazza del Campo is very large and derives a certain splendor of appearance from some palaces built in the Gothic style. In the midst stands a granite pillar, bearing a representation in bronze of Romulus and Remus suckled by the she-wolf. I saw several other pillars of equal beauty in different parts of the town, while in Rome, where they would certainly have been more appropriate, I did not find a single one. All the houses in the streets of Siena have a gloomy appearance. Many of them are built like castles, of great square blocks of stone, and furnished with loopholes. The finest building is undoubtedly the cathedral. Though I came from the city of churches, the beauty of this edifice struck me so forcibly that for a long time I stood silently regarding it. It is in truth considered one of the handsomest churches in Italy. It stands on a little elevation in the midst of a large square, and is covered outside and inside with white marble. The lofty arches of the windows, supported by columns, have a peculiarly fine effect, and the frescoes in the sacristy are remarkably alike for the correctness of outline and brilliancy of color. The drawings are said to be by Raphael, and the freshness of color observed in these frescoes is ascribed to the good qualities of the Siena earth. The mass books preserved in the sacristy contain some very delicate miniatures on parchment. Some of the woods in the neighboring hospital are also decorated with beautiful frescoes, which appear to date from the time of Raphael. The grace and beauty of the women of Siena have been extolled by many riders. As today was Sunday, I attended high mass for the purpose of meeting some of these graceful beauties. I found that they were present in the usual average, and no more beauty and grace are no common gifts. In the afternoon I visited the promenade, the Preto de Liza, where I found but little company. A fine prospect is obtained from the walls of the town. November 28. The country now becomes very beautiful. The mountains are less high, the valleys widen, and at length hills only appear at intervals, clothed with trees, meadows, and fields. In the Tuscan dominions I noticed many cypresses, a tree I had not seen since my departure from Constantinople and Smyrna. The country seems well populated, and villages frequently appear. At five in the evening we reached Florence, but I did not arrive at Madame Mokali's hotel until an hour and a half later, for the examination of luggage and passes and other business of this kind always occupies a long time. The country round Florence is exceedingly lovely, without being grand. The charming arno flows through the town. It is crossed by four stone bridges, one of them roved and lined with booths on either side. Florence contains 8,000 houses and 90,000 inhabitants. The exterior of the palaces here is very peculiar. Constructed chiefly of huge blocks of stone, they almost resemble fortresses, and look massive and venerable. The cathedral is said to be the finest church in Christendom. I thought it too simple, particularly the interior. The walls are only whitewashed, and the painted windows render the church extremely dark. I was best pleased with the doors of the sacristy, with the celebrated works of Luca del Robin and the richly decorated high altar. The Battisterio, once a temple of Mars, with eight very fine doors of bronze, which Michelangelo pronounced worthy to be the gates of paradise, stands beside the cathedral. The other principal churches are St. Lorenzo, also with a white interior and gray pillars containing some fine oil paintings, and the Chapel of the Medici, a splendid structure decorated with costly stones and monuments of several members of the royal family. St. Croce, a handsome church full of monuments of eminent men, is also called the Italian Pantheon. The sculptures are beautiful, and the paintings are good. The remains of Michelangelo rest here, and the Buonaparte family possess a vault beneath a side chapel. Another chapel of considerable size contains some exquisite statues of white marble. St. Anunziat is rich in splendid frescoes. Those placed around the walls in the courtyard of the church, and surrounded by a glass gallery, are particularly handsome. On the left as we enter we find the costly chapel of our Lady Della Anunziata, in which the altar, the immense Candelabra, the angels and draperies, in short everything is of silver. This wealthy church contains an addition with some good pictures and a quantity of marble. St. Michel is outwardly beautified by some excellent statues. The interior displays several valuable paintings and an altar of great beauty beneath a white marble canopy in the Gothic style. Its spirit contains many sculptures, among which a statue of the Savior in white marble claims particular attention. All these churches are rather dark from having stained windows. Foremost among the palaces we may reckon the Palais Petit, built on a little hill. This structure has a noble appearance, constructed entirely of pieces of granite. It seems calculated to last an eternity. Of all the palaces I had seen, this one pleased me most. It would be difficult to find a building in the same style which should surpass it. As a rule indeed I particularly admired the Florentine buildings, which seemed to me to possess a much more decided national appearance than the palaces of modern Rome. The picture gallery of this palace numbers five hundred paintings, most of them masterpieces, among which we find Raphael's Madonna della sedia. Besides the pictures each apartment contains gorgeous tables of valuable stone. Behind the palace the bobbly gardens rises, somewhat in the form of a terrace. Here I found numerous statues distributed with much taste throughout the charming alleys, groves, and open places. From the higher points a splendid view is obtained. The palace degliuffizzi, on the arno, has an imposing effect, from its magnificent proportions and peculiar style of architecture. Some of the greatest artistic treasures of the world are united in the twenty halls and cabinets and three immense galleries of this building. The tribuna contains the Venus de Medici's, found at Tivoli, and executed by Cleomenus, a son of Apollodorus of Athens. Opposite to it stands a statue of Apolino. In the center of the hall of the artist's portrait gallery we find the celebrated Medici in vase. The cabinet of jewels boasts the largest and finest onyx in existence. The Palazzo Vecchio resembles a fortified castle. The large courtyard, surrounded by lofty arcades, is crowded with paintings and sculptures. A beautiful fountain stands in the midst, and two splendid statues, one representing Hercules and the other David, adorn the entrance. The glorious fountain of Amanato, drawn by seahorses and surrounded by tritons, is not far off. In the Gerardesca Palace we find a fresco representing the horrible story of Ugolino. The Palazzo Strossi should not be left out of the catalogue. It has already stood for three hundred and sixty years, and looks as though it had been completed but yesterday. In the speckle, we are shown the human body and its diseases, modeled and waxed by the same artist who established a similar cabinet at Vienna in the Josephinium. In the Museum of Natural History, stuffed animals and their skeletons are preserved. The travellers should not depart without visiting the workshops for hard stones, where beautiful pictures, table slabs, etc., are put together a Florentine marble. Splendid works are produced here. I saw flowers and fruits constructed of stone which would not have dishonored the finest pencil. The enormous table in the palace de Gliuffizzi is said to have cost forty thousand dukets. Twenty-five men were employed for twenty years in its construction. It is composed of Florentine mosaic. This table did not strike me particularly. It appeared overloaded with ornament. Of the environs of Florence I only saw the Grand Duke's Milk Farm, a pleasant place near the Arno, amid beautiful avenues and meadows. Here from Florence December 3. At seven in the evening I quitted Florence and proceeded in the mail carriage to Bologna, distant about eighty miles. When the day broke we found ourselves on an eclivity commanding a really splendid view. Numerous valleys extending between low hills opened before our eyes. The snow-clad Aponines formed the background, and in the far distance shown a gleaming stripe, the Adriatic Sea. At five in the evening of December fourth we reached Bologna. This town is of considerable extent, numbers fifty thousand inhabitants, and has many fine houses and streets. All of these, however, are dull, with the exception of a few principal streets. Beggars swarm at every corner, an unmistakable token that we are once more in the states of the church. December fifth, this was a day of rest. I proceeded at once to visit the cathedral, which is rich in frescoes, gilding, and arabests. A few oil paintings are also not to be overlooked. In the church of St. Dominic I viewed with most interest the monument of King Enzio. The picture gallery contains a Saint Cecilia, one of the earlier productions of Raphael. A fine fountain with a figure of Neptune graces the principal square. In the Palazzo Publico I saw a staircase up which it is possible to ride. The most remarkable edifices at Bologna are the two square leaning towers at Porta Romagna. One of these towers is five and the other seven feet out of the perpendicular. Their aspect inspired me with a kind of nervous dread. On standing close to the wall to look up at them it really appeared as though they were toppling down. In themselves these towers are not interesting, being simply constructed of masonry and not very lofty. The finest spot in Bologna is the Campo Santo, the immense cemetery with its long covered ways and neat chapels displaying a number of costly monuments, the works of the first modern sculptors. Three large and pleasant spots near these buildings serve as burial places for the poorer classes. In one the men are interred, in the second the women, and in the third the children. A hall three miglia in length resting on six hundred and forty columns leads from this cemetery to a little hill, surmounted by the church of the Mandana di St. Lucca, and from thence almost back into the town. The church just mentioned contains a miraculous picture, namely a true likeness of the Virgin painted by St. Lucque after a vision. The complexion of this picture is much darker than that of the commonest women I have seen in Syria. But faith is everything, and so I will not doubt the authenticity of the picture. The prospect from the mountains is exceedingly fine. I returned in the evening completely exhausted, and in half an hour afterwards was already seated in the post carriage to pursue my journey to Ferrera. On the whole the weather was unfavorable, it rained frequently, and the roads were mostly very bad, particularly in the domains of the Pope, where we struck fast four or five times during the night. On one occasion of this kind we were detained more than an hour until horses and oxen could be collected to drag us onwards. We were twelve hours getting over these fifty-four miles from six in the evening until the same hour in the morning. December sixth. This morning I awoke at Ferrera, where the carriage was to be changed once more. I availed myself of a few spare hours to view the town, which on the whole rather resembles a German than an Italian place. It has fine broad streets, nice houses, and a few arched ways in front of them. In the center of the town stands a strong castle, surrounded by fortifications. This was once the residence of the bishop. At nine o'clock we quitted this pretty town and reached the Poe an hour afterwards. We were ferried across the stream, and now, after a long absence, I once more stood on Austrian ground. We continued our journey through a lovely plain to Ravigo, a place possessing no object of interest. Here we stayed to dine, and afterwards passed the Adige, a stream considerably smaller than the Poe. The country between Ravigo and Padua was hidden from us by an impenetrable fog, which prevented our seeing fifty paces in advance. At six o'clock in the evening we reached Padua, a resting place for the night. Early next morning I hastened onwards, for I had already seen Padua, Venice, Trieste, etc. in the year 1840. I reached my native town safely and in perfect health, and had the happiness of finding that my beloved ones were all well and cheerful. During my journey I had seen much and endured many hardships. I had found very few things as I had imagined them to be. Friends and relations have expressed a wish to read a description of my lonely wanderings. I could not send my diary to each one, so I have dared, upon the representations of my friends, and at the particular request of the publisher of this book, to tell my adventures in a plain, unvarnished way. I am no authoress. I have never written anything but letters, and my diary must not, therefore, be judged as a literary production. It is a simple narration, in which I have described every circumstance as it occurred, a collection of notes which I wrote down for private reference, without dreaming that they would ever find their way into the great world. Therefore I would entreat the indulgence of my kind readers, for, I repeat it, nothing can be farther from my thoughts than any idea of thrusting myself forward into the ranks of those gifted women who have received in their cradle the muses initiatory kiss. End of section 40. End of A Visit to the Holy Land, Egypt and Italy. Read by Cibela Den in Carrollton, Georgia, October 2007.