LOW LIFE IN NAPLES AS PICTURED BY NEAPOLITANS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2398, 15 February 1900, Page 60

LOW LIFE IN NAPLES AS PICTURED BY NEAPOLITANS.

(Gentleman's Magazine.)

Among the curiosities of low life in Naples is the story of a professor of tattooing, which is a very common practice among sailors and criminals. This particular "' professor " had been, in the reign of Ferdinand 11, a young sailor on board a man-of-war, and, having been accosted by the king during a visit of his Majesty on board the Fulminante, used to relate with pride how the King had asked him for a light for his cigar, and, on meeting him again, had given him a 'full cigar-case. This incident made the young sailor an enthusiastic follower of the Bourbons, and, when that dynasty fell, he used to distinguish the past and present rulers by the nicknames of " The gentlemen " and " Thebeggars." He always spoke of Francesco II as "the poor lad who was betrayed," and of the Piedmontese soldiers who were quartered at Naples as "savages." This man practised the art of tattooing to such perfection that he was sought out by every one who wished to be so decorated. Having committed a robbery, for which he Avas expelled the navy and put into prison, he was there elected* to the Camorra, and on coming out became one of its most feared members. He appropriated the trade of tattooing to himself, and grew tolerably rich. He had a wife whom he beat and ill-treated, making experiments of tattooing on her body', one of which caused her death, for in an experiment of a new design in a green colour the poor woman contracted blood-poisoning and died shortly after the operation. Her husband was arrested, tried for manslaughter, and sent to the galleys for many years. He did not live long "after his release. Even women allow themselves to be tattooed, but the operation, if earned on on a pretty large scale, generally causes them to faint. The operator then generally seizes the opportunity of that state of oblivion to rapidly complete the figure he is pricking, glad that his patient no longer feels the pain. The haunts of the beggars of Naples are also usually the haunts of thieves kept by come woman, who trades on the vice and misery of her fellow-creatures. There the miserable wretches sleep by night, and assemble by day teaching children to pick pockets and beg. . . . Another particularity of Naples public life are the libellous short-lived newspapers, nicknamed "flying wasps," the pages of which are filled with fulsome praise or bitter calumnies. The editor and staff of such a paj>er pose as reformers of public morals, as Eonest men who bravely expose political or social evils, and head their paragraphs with violent phrases in large type. The Neapolitans, avid of scandal, rush to subscribe to the paper, which, however", quickly succumbs to the expense of damages inflicted upon it for defamation of character, and ceases to exist. . . . The most vile and miserable of the population will keep a picture of the Madonna in their houses, and never grudge the price of the oil in the never-extinguished lamp. •The cheat, the thief, the assassin, take religious vows and keep them, often at a considerable sacrefice. Before breaking into a shop, or committing some other crime, the perpetrators will devoutly make the sign of the Cross, and when a man goes to a duel he will sprinkle himself with holy water at the nearest church, in order to make sure that his revolver will not miss fire, or his knife fail. Even when robbing some valuable objects from a church altar the thief will first kneel down, murmuring «n assurance that it is not contempt for the sacred utensils, but necessity, which leads him to the crime. A very superstitious rascal will try to avoid fighting with a jnan who has a dagger ai itli a handle (in the form of a cross. Very many are the miraculous shrines in Naples and the neighbouring country, and not only do the poor «nd ignorant congregate there, but the fich and educated. . . Signor Russo, one of the writers wl.-o is well veiled in the life of the city, gave a graphic description of a low night cafe, cf which there are a great number. Horrible dens in the Porto Pendino Vicaria and Mercato quarters, where the worst specimens of the mala vita assemble and talk their incomprehensible jargon. Men with brutish faces, on which crime is written large, with low foreheads, small bloodshot/ eyes A hjgh cheekbones,, and large

bony hands with strong curving nails. They gamble with intense passion, the while one of their gang stands on guard at the door looking out whether by chance a policeman is drawing near. A common member of the staff they call a " mouse," and a superior officer is " the cat." The owner of the cafe is even a more vile sioecimen of humanity than his customers. He is a member of a criminal association, a receiver of stolen goods, and an illegal moneylender and usurer. A well-known proprietor of one of these cafes had formerly teen the beadle of a church, and was still in the habit of confessing his sins every Saturday, partaking of Holy Communion on Sundays, and going every morning to recite a prayer, while he left his wife in charge of the cafe. These low places have often poetical names — the " Golden Star," the " Rose," the " Three Camellias " — and in them customers will be suddenly insulted and attacked with knife or revolver ; or one will be called out by a pale girl, to be killed as soon as he issues into the^street by her brother or father. The " Golden Star" was the favourite resort of a gang of robbers, whose special trade it was to steal all they could from peasant emigrants who came to the city to embark for America. These simple people were easily deceived and decoyed while loitering before the doors of tie agencies' offices, and very often found themselves perfectly destitute and unable to pail. The special cafes of Naples are, however, fast disappeax-ing, and are no longer so characteristic.