formed our duty to the gods and goddesses, the Sybils, the Mephitic grottoes and legendary terrors of the shore, in time to make our little voyage before sunset, when we drove down to Miniscola. Who knows not Miniscola? the scene of so many varied adventures, “deeds and gestes” of ancient and modern heroes,—Daædalus, Æneas, Pliny, Nelson.
But I am not going to take an unfair advantage of my reader, and proceed to detail the interesting circumstances connected with these shores and commanders, after looking them up myself carefully in Virgil and Ovid, Middleton’s Cesare Cantu, and Southey’s Narratives. “If he knows them already, what is the use of telling him?” as Dangle justly asks Puff. If he does not, he will find them all concisely put together in Mr. John Murray’s Handbook.
So I proceed to relate a recent passage of arms, which he will not find even in the latest editions of that valuable epitome of information.
As we approached this historical strand, a number of picturesque-looking men, brown-eyed, brown-skinned, and brown-clothed, started up from the beach, where they had been lying basking in the sun among the fishing-boats, and came rushing after the carriage, vociferously and eagerly offering their services, and each extolling the exclusive excellence of the boat to which he belonged.
We drew up. “Yes! we want a boat. How much will you charge to take us to Ischia?”
There was a moment’s pause. They had not expected us, or any other fare: they were merely awaiting the hour of fishing, and had not decided to what amount they might attempt to fleece the forestieri. After a moment’s thought, however, the answer was ready and confident. “Four piastres!”
This was something so audaciously beyond the ordinary rules of extortion, that the regular process of beating down was not available. It could be met only with offended integrity. Rising from my seat, and throwing all the tragic expression they could assume into my colourless Anglo-Saxon face and eyes, I regarded the men a moment with appalling severity; and then, waving my hand to Michele, imperatively bade him drive back to Naples.
“Ah! briganti! Ah! scelerati!” cried the faithful Michele, seconding my motion. “Is this the way to treat strangers? Is this the way to make them prefer your boats to the steamer? Ah! you thought you could rob them at your ease, did you? But they know better; and if they did not, do you suppose I would bring them here to have their pockets picked? Your boats may go empty to Ischia. They won’t have them now, at any price!”
So saying, Michele turned his horse’s head, and, with a vigorous application of the whip, set off at as brisk a pace as if determined not to draw rein until we reached Naples. Never was fausse sortie better executed. In three minutes the whole crew were at our heels, running, shouting, and offering to come to terms. As if unwillingly, our Jehu pulled up once more.
“Che cosa darete Signori? Buon battello! Quattro rami!” said one of our breathless pursuers.
Now supposing that the usual battle was going to begin, and would end in our getting at the fair price by a process of elimination, I thought it necessary to start as much too low in the scale, as their pitch was too high. I therefore answered, “Un ducato.”
To my amazement, it was accepted; and as we drove back to the shore, I felt the sort of remorse that affected poor Poll Sweedlepipes when he had charged Bailey, jun., three halfpence for a penny Redpoll, because he thought he would beat him down, “and he didn’t!” Nevertheless, we embarked upon as amicable terms with our crew as if no difference of opinion had existed between us: for the mobile southern temper blazes up and subsides with a rapidity that is unintelligible to our phlegmatic natures. In fact, the struggle that a Neapolitan makes to extort more than his fair remuneration, is merely a duty that he owes to himself. Once this duty discharged, successfully or unsuccessfully, he dismisses it from his mind, feeling neither gratitude nor animosity towards his adversary. If he conquers, he is pleased with himself: if you conquer, he rarely sulks. He fights to the last: he prays, he remonstrates, he swears, he calls all the gods of heathendom and saints of Christendom to witness to the justice of his demand: but once convinced that you are not to be overcome, he gives in with a good grace, and rather likes and respects you for the prowess you have shown. The same man who one minute would be throwing himself into attitudes of despair, and threatening, cursing, swearing, imploring and invoking all sorts of mischief on his head, if he were not the most ill-used of mortals, and we the most cruel of tyrants and oppressors,—the next, if he found his appeal disregarded, would be lounging beside us on the grass or shore, affably conversing, watching our sketches, and asking questions on the subject of our manners and customs, without a trace of ill-humour remaining.
The breeze carried us merrily off, and we scudded rapidly through the blue waters till, under the lee of Procida, it died away. The sail was lowered and the oars put in requisition. Now, our offered ducat seemed more than ever disproportionate to the service required. Just as we had, however, decided that the ducat should be a piastre, and that then we would, in our magnanimity, bestow something more for una bottiglia, we were anticipated by a proposal from the Padrone to bring us back again from Ischia when we wished to return.
“But we mean to stay a day or two.”
“Non fa niente,—we can fish there or here,—all alike.”
So we agreed for a piastre each way, ultimately vindicating the liberality of forestieri, as we had already borne witness to their commercial ability, by giving a gratuity which was received with unusual thankfulness, and parting with mutual satisfaction.
As we neared Ischia, the declining sun, casting a rosy light on the noble rock and Castello di Nerone, which stands out like a sentinel to challenge