ST. JANARIUS AND HIS BLOOD.

In the centre of Naples, on a very high hill, is a splendid old castle or fort. Myself and two American ladies winded round its base upwards, till we reached its gates. Our guide beat there some time before its old lord would hear; we handed him our permit from below to enter, and he said “walk in,” in the French tongue. These two American ladies and their father seemed to make quite an agreeable impression on the commander of the castle or fort. He invited us into his parlor where he asked us many disguised questions, such as; “how do you like Naples?” “when are you going to leave and what directions will you take from here?” was some of his questions. Having “pumped” us as dry as he could, he called a guard and put us under escort to see the wonders of this old tyrant mound. Cannons were pointed from the loopholes of this fort to all parts of the city. The people are afraid to rebel against the laws of Ferdinand II, because orders from the palace to this castle can come under ground. The king has a private path miles under ground to get to this castle when besieged in his palace. It is said that this fort can destroy the city in a few hours; can batter it all down and set it on fire with its shells, and burn it up, and as the property belongs to the citizens they keep quiet. The old man now invited us back to his saloon and asked us our opinions of this, his castle; of course it was all we anticipated and more too. Whilst he was delighted with the ladies’ answers to his questions, I walked out in the court, and the lazaroni or guide called my attention to the open register, where all visitors’ names are recorded, and glanced at the following record of that morning: “Mons. Millenberger et deau dame; Compte Fello de Amerique et une jeune homme.” This was indeed laughable, but to make it more absurd, my old guide informed me that he was aware of our nobility some days ago. I inquired of him how it was possible for him to find out such a mystery. He smiled very knowingly and assured me that he was possessed of peculiar tact for finding out such things. Then in his confirmation of his skill in fathoming this hidden secret, he told me of a Mr. Rice, a powerful lord of South Carolina, who would be an heir to an immense estate if he lived long enough, and of his noble bearing, and how Mr. R. tried to conceal it from him, but it couldn’t be done, and which Mr. Rice had to acknowledge. Then he went on to show me why Americans ought not to try and conceal such things as they eventually lost the best accomodation the hotels could afford, by not letting it be known who it was wanted them. He also suggested that American noblemen ought to wear some peculiar mark or sign that they may be distinguished from those of an inferior dignity. I for once felt like driving the good-natured old fool away, but as he was so bigoted with his own errors I told him that all noblemen of American peculiarities did have signs about them unmistakeable. Here his curiosity rose to such a pitch he asked me to make it known to him so that he might hereafter know how to treat such worth. I told him that if ever he came across an American of Arkansas or Texas, to get behind him when seated and look over his left shoulder, in his bosom, and he will most likely see something like an elephant’s tusk, but it was nothing more nor less than what was called a toothpick, and when he saw that, it would be to his advantage to be mighty polite. The old man believes now he has the insignia of an American prince, and intends treating him with due respect to his high position.

From this Fort I took a ride to Baie, and after two hours’ ride I reached it. Two thousand years ago it was a great city where C?sar and Cicero dwelt a great part of their time. The site of their palaces are yet discernable. The hot baths out of the earth are here yet, and I took one. No doubt but they are heated, running under the bay from Vesuvius on the other side. A few hundred yards out in the bay is the smallest island I ever saw to have a town of thousands of souls on it. It is about a mile in circumference. The town takes up almost all of the island of Procida. The inhabitants are nearly all Greek descendants, and are celebrated for keeping up the Greek fashions. The old guide insisted on us going into the heart of Procida, where he would show us the curious costumes. Having waited in an old dirty room some time for the scene, a rough working girl came into the room and stood some time. The old man asked me how I liked it? but I couldn’t see anything different from other women about the town. He told her to turn around, when he called my attention to some plaiting around the waist of the woman’s dress. She now whispered something to our guide, which, when translated, meant that she had her soap to make, and would like to discontinue the performance as the show was out. He said we must give her a couple of pauls for her trouble of dressing and undressing. This old man kept us laughing all the way back to Naples. When leaving Baie, passing some old magnificent ruins, he said, “Gentlemen, that is the ruins of the palace of Lucullus, the greatest eater that ever was in Italy.” Then he commenced relating Plutarch’s history of Lucullus’ style of living. He told us of the single dish that was expensive to the tune of 1,200 francs. Here the old man licked out his tongue, in token of his approbation of its being good. This old man has a country seat and town residence. He showed us, on our way out, his country seat; it consists of an old brick building, that in times of yore must have been used by somebody, who had a house, as a stable, and being an enterprising man, his mouth watered for it as a filthy retreat from Naples, when he can get no labor, such as he is now occupied with. We give him about forty cents a day, and he finds himself.

In Napoli is a church of fearful renown. It is built upon the site of the temple of Apollo; it was commenced by Charles the first, and finished by Charles the second, in the twelfth century. It is built of stone, and pillars of stone, from all parts of Africa, brought here in conquest. In it is buried the aforesaid Charles. This is the church of St. Janarius; a large statue of St. Janarius is represented seated, and always ready to bless the people. In a small tabernacle, with silver doors, is preserved the head and two vials of the Saint’s blood, said to have been collected by a Neapolitan lady during his martyrdom. This blood becomes miraculously liquid, whenever it is placed before the head of St. Janarius. The ceremony of this miracle is repeated three times a year, that is, during eight days in the month of May, eight days during the month of September, and on the day of protection, on the 16th of December. This miracle is to the Neapolitans a constant object of devotion and astonishment, of which no one that has not been present, can form a just idea. When the liquifaction of the blood takes place immediately, the joy of the people knows no bounds; but if the operation of the miracle is retarded one moment, the cries and groaning of the people rend the air; for at Naples the procrastination of this miracle is considered the prestage of some great misfortune; the grief, particularly of the women, is so great, that the blood never fails to become liquid, and resume its consistency, on each of the eight days; so that every one may see and kiss the blood of St. Janarius, in as liquid a state as when it first issued from his veins. The city of Naples has been in danger of being destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, by earthquakes, and other calamities, such as war, pestilence, &c., &c., but it has always been delivered by the blood of this mighty Saint. A lady writer says: "At one time the blood was rather slow about doing its duty, when their hypocritical priest says to the people, that the blood would never liquidate so long as they allowed the French to keep possession of the town. As soon as the French general heard this, he sent notice to the people that if the priest did not make the blood liquidate in ten minutes, off went his head. There was great lamentation for the priest, and the whole city was sympathizing with him, as his time was short; but at the expiration of nine minutes and three quarters the blood liquidated.”