Naples ought to have made Tiberius a better man; but apparently they
didn't. We were prepared for the thrilling moment when we were led to
the edge of the cliff, and told to look down. Here was the very place
where Tiberius amused himself by throwing his slaves into the sea to
feed the fishes. Cruel old monster! But it was a long time ago. Time
had marvelously softened the atrocity of the act, and heightened its
picturesque character. If Tiberius must exhibit his colossal inhumanity,
could he have anywhere in all the world chosen a better spot? Just think
of his coming to this island and, on this high cliff above the azure
sea, building this palace! And then to think of him on a night when the
moon was full, and the nightingales were singing, coming out and hurling
a shuddering slave into the abyss!

When we returned to the hotel, our friend the Professor, who had made a
study of the subject, informed us that it was all a mistake. The stories
of the wicked doings of Tiberius in Capri were malicious slanders. The
Emperor was an elderly invalid living in dignified retirement. As for
the slaves, we might set our minds at rest in regard to them. If any of
them fell over the cliff it was pure accident. We must give up the idea
that the invalid Emperor pushed them off.

All this was reassuring to my better nature, and yet I cherished a
grudge against the Professor. For it was a stiff climb to the Villa of
Tiberius, and I wanted something to show for it. It was difficult to
adjust one's mind to the fact that nothing had happened there which
might not have happened in any well-conducted country house.

I like to contrast this with our experience in Algiers. We knew
beforehand what Algiers was like in the days of its prime. It had been
the nest of as desperate pirates as ever infested the seas. For