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ОглавлениеTHE INNOCENTS ABROAD, Part 3
THE INNOCENTS ABROAD
Part 3, Chapters 21 to 30
by Mark Twain
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[Cover and Spine from the 1884 Edition]
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THE INNOCENTS ABROAD
by Mark Twain
[From an 1869--1st Edition]
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CONTENTS
The Pretty Lago di Lecco--A Carriage Drive in the Country--Astonishing Sociability in a Coachman--Sleepy Land--Bloody Shrines--The Heart and Home of Priestcraft--A Thrilling Mediaeval Romance--The Birthplace of Harlequin--Approaching Venice
Night in Venice--The "Gay Gondolier"--The Grand Fete by Moonlight--The Notable Sights of Venice--The Mother of the Republics Desolate
The Famous Gondola--The Gondola in an Unromantic Aspect--The Great Square of St. Mark and the Winged Lion--Snobs, at Home and Abroad--Sepulchres of the Great Dead--A Tilt at the "Old Masters"--A Contraband Guide--The Conspiracy--Moving Again
Down Through Italy by Rail--Idling in Florence--Dante and Galileo--An Ungrateful City--Dazzling Generosity--Wonderful Mosaics--The Historical Arno--Lost Again--Found Again, but no Fatted Calf Ready--The Leaning Tower of Pisa--The Ancient Duomo--The Old Original First Pendulum that Ever Swung--An Enchanting Echo--A New Holy Sepulchre--A Relic of Antiquity--A Fallen Republic--At Leghorn--At Home Again, and Satisfied, on Board the Ship--Our Vessel an Object of Grave Suspicion--Garibaldi Visited--Threats of Quarantine
The Works of Bankruptcy--Railway Grandeur--How to Fill an Empty Treasury--The Sumptuousness of Mother Church--Ecclesiastical Splendor--Magnificence and Misery--General Execration--More Magnificence A Good Word for the Priests--Civita Vecchia the Dismal--Off for Rome
The Modern Roman on His Travels--The Grandeur of St. Peter's--Holy Relics--Grand View from the Dome--The Holy Inquisition--Interesting Old Monkish Frauds--The Ruined Coliseum--The Coliseum in the Days of its Prime--Ancient Playbill of a Coliseum Performance--A Roman Newspaper Criticism 1700 Years Old
"Butchered to Make a Roman Holiday"--The Man who Never Complained--An Exasperating Subject--Asinine Guides--The Roman Catacombs The Saint Whose Fervor Burst his Ribs--The Miracle of the Bleeding Heart--The Legend of Ara Coeli
Picturesque Horrors--The Legend of Brother Thomas--Sorrow Scientifically Analyzed--A Festive Company of the Dead--The Great Vatican Museum Artist Sins of Omission--The Rape of the Sabines--Papal Protection of Art--High Price of "Old Masters"--Improved Scripture--Scale of Rank of the Holy Personages in Rome--Scale of Honors Accorded Them--Fossilizing--Away for Naples
Naples--In Quarantine at Last--Annunciation--Ascent of Mount Vesuvius--A Two Cent Community--The Black Side of Neapolitan Character--Monkish Miracles--Ascent of Mount Vesuvius Continued--The Stranger and the Hackman--Night View of Naples from the Mountain-side---Ascent of Mount Vesuvius Continued
Ascent of Mount Vesuvius Continued--Beautiful View at Dawn--Less Beautiful in the Back Streets--Ascent of Vesuvius Continued--Dwellings a Hundred Feet High--A Motley Procession--Bill of Fare for a Peddler's Breakfast--Princely Salaries--Ascent of Vesuvius Continued--An Average of Prices--The wonderful "Blue Grotto"--Visit to Celebrated Localities in the Bay of Naples--The Poisoned "Grotto of the Dog"--A Petrified Sea of Lava--Ascent of Mount Vesuvius Continued--The Summit Reached--Description of the Crater--Descent of Vesuvius
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
CHAPTER XXI.
We voyaged by steamer down the Lago di Lecco, through wild mountain scenery, and by hamlets and villas, and disembarked at the town of Lecco. They said it was two hours, by carriage to the ancient city of Bergamo, and that we would arrive there in good season for the railway train. We got an open barouche and a wild, boisterous driver, and set out. It was delightful. We had a fast team and a perfectly smooth road. There were towering cliffs on our left, and the pretty Lago di Lecco on our right, and every now and then it rained on us. Just before starting, the driver picked up, in the street, a stump of a cigar an inch long, and put it in his mouth. When he had carried it thus about an hour, I thought it would be only Christian charity to give him a light. I handed him my cigar, which I had just lit, and he put it in his mouth and returned his stump to his pocket! I never saw a more sociable man. At least I never saw a man who was more sociable on a short acquaintance.
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We saw interior Italy, now. The houses were of solid stone, and not often in good repair. The peasants and their children were idle, as a general thing, and the donkeys and chickens made themselves at home in drawing-room and bed-chamber and were not molested. The drivers of each and every one of the slow-moving market-carts we met were stretched in the sun upon their merchandise, sound a sleep. Every three or four hundred yards, it seemed to me, we came upon the shrine of some saint or other--a rude picture of him built into a huge cross or a stone pillar by the road-side.--Some of the pictures of the Saviour were curiosities in their way. They represented him stretched upon the cross, his countenance distorted with agony. From the wounds of the crown of thorns; from the pierced side; from the mutilated hands and feet; from the scourged body--from every hand-breadth of his person streams of blood were flowing! Such a gory, ghastly spectacle would frighten the children out of their senses, I should think. There were some unique auxiliaries to the painting which added to its spirited effect. These were genuine wooden and iron implements, and were prominently disposed round about the figure: a bundle of nails; the hammer to drive them; the sponge; the reed that supported it; the cup of vinegar; the ladder for the ascent of the cross; the spear that pierced the Saviour's side. The crown of thorns was made of real thorns, and was nailed to the sacred head. In some Italian church-paintings, even by the old masters, the Saviour and the Virgin wear silver or gilded crowns that are fastened to the pictured head with nails. The effect is as grotesque as it is incongruous.
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Here and there, on the fronts of roadside inns, we found huge, coarse frescoes of suffering martyrs like those in the shrines. It could not have diminished their sufferings any to be so uncouthly represented. We were in the heart and home of priest craft--of a happy, cheerful, contented ignorance, superstition, degradation, poverty, indolence, and everlasting unaspiring worthlessness. And we said fervently: it suits these people precisely; let them enjoy it, along with the other animals, and Heaven forbid that they be molested. We feel no malice toward these fumigators.
We passed through the strangest, funniest, undreampt-of old towns, wedded to the customs and steeped in the dreams of the elder ages, and perfectly unaware that the world turns round! And perfectly indifferent, too, as to whether it turns around or stands still. They have nothing to do but eat and sleep and sleep and eat, and toil a little when they can get a friend to stand by and keep them awake. They are not paid for thinking--they are not paid to fret about the world's concerns. They were not respectable people--they were not worthy people--they were not learned and wise and brilliant people--but in their breasts, all their stupid lives long, resteth a peace that passeth understanding! How can men, calling themselves men, consent to be so degraded and happy.
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We whisked by many a gray old medieval castle, clad thick with ivy that swung its green banners down from towers and turrets where once some old Crusader's flag had floated. The driver pointed to one of these ancient fortresses, and said, (I translate):
"Do you see that great iron hook that projects from the wall just under the highest window in the ruined tower?"
We said we could not see it at such a distance, but had no doubt it was there.
"Well," he said; "there is a legend connected with that iron hook. Nearly seven hundred years ago, that castle was the property of the noble Count Luigi Gennaro Guido Alphonso di Genova----"
"What was his other name?" said Dan.
"He had no other name. The name I have spoken was all the name he had. He was the son of----"
"Poor but honest parents--that is all right--never mind the particulars--go on with the legend."
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THE LEGEND.
Well, then, all the world, at that time, was in a wild excitement about the Holy Sepulchre. All the great feudal lords in Europe were pledging their lands and pawning their plate to fit out men-at-arms so that they might join the grand armies of Christendom and win renown in the Holy Wars. The Count Luigi raised money, like the rest, and one mild September morning, armed with battle-ax, portcullis and thundering culverin, he rode through the greaves and bucklers of his donjon-keep with as gallant a troop of Christian bandits as ever stepped in Italy. He had his sword, Excalibur, with him. His beautiful countess and her young daughter waved him a tearful adieu from the battering-rams and buttresses of the fortress, and he galloped away with a happy heart.
He made a raid on a neighboring baron and completed his outfit with the booty secured. He then razed the castle to the ground, massacred the family and moved on. They were hardy fellows in the grand old days of chivalry. Alas! Those days will never come again.
