_November_ 8_th_.—This morning I awoke in the glow of sunshine; the air
blew fresh and fragrant; never did I feel more elastic and enlivened. A
brisker flow of spirits than I had for many a day experienced, animated
me with a desire of rambling about the shore of Baii, and creeping into
caverns and subterraneous chambers. Off I set along Chiaja, and up
strange paths which impend over the grotto of Posilipo, amongst the
thickets mentioned a letter or two ago; for in my present lively humour,
I disdained ordinary roads, and would take paths and ways of my own. A
society of kids did not understand what I meant by intruding upon their
precipices; and scrambling away, scattered sand and fragments upon the
good people that were trudging along the pavement below.
I went on from pine to pine, and thicket to thicket, upon the brink of
rapid declivities. My conductor, a shrewd savage, whom Sir William had
recommended to me, cheered our route with stories that had passed in the
neighbourhood, and traditions about the grot over which we were
travelling. I wish you had been of the party, and sat down by us on
little smooth spots of sward, where I reclined, scarcely knowing which
way caprice was leading me. My mind was full of the tales of the place,
and glowed with a vehement desire of exploring the world beyond the grot.
I longed to ascend the promontory of Misenus, and follow the same dusky
route down which the Sibyl conducted Æneas.
With these dispositions I proceeded; and soon the cliffs and copses
opened to views of the Baian bay, with the little isles of Niscita and
Lazaretto lifting themselves out of the waters. Procita and Ischia
appeared at a distance, invested with that purple bloom so inexpressibly
beautiful, and peculiar to this fortunate climate. I hailed the prospect
and blessed the transparent air that gave me life and vigour to run down
the rocks, and hie as fast as my savage across the plain to Puzzoli.
There we took bark and rowed out into the blue ocean, by the remains of a
sturdy mole: many such, I imagine, adorned the bay in Roman ages crowned
by vast lengths of slender pillars; pavilions at their extremities, and
taper cypresses spiring above their balustrades: this character of villa
occurs very frequently in the paintings of Herculaneum.
We had soon crossed the bay, and landing on a bushy coast, near some
fragments of a temple which they say was raised to Hercules, advanced
into the country by narrow tracks covered with moss and strewed with
shining pebbles; to the right and left, broad masses of luxuriant
foliage, chestnut, bay, and ilex, that shelter the ruins of columbariums
and sepulchral chambers, where the dead sleep snug amongst rampant
herbage. The region was still, save when a cock crew from the hamlets,
which, as well as the tombs, are almost concealed by thickets. No
parties of smart Englishmen and connoisseurs were about. I had all the
land to myself, and mounted its steeps and penetrated into its recesses,
with the importance of a discoverer. What a variety of narrow paths,
between banks and shades, did I wildly follow! my savage laughing loud at
my odd gestures and useless activity. He wondered I did not scrape the
ground for medals, and pocket little bits of plaster, like other
plausible young travellers that had gone before me.
After ascending some time, I followed him into the Piscina Mirabilis, the
wondrous reservoir which Nero constructed to supply his fleet, when
anchored in the neighbouring bay. ’Tis a grand labyrinth of solid vaults
and pillars, as you well know, but you cannot conceive the partial gleams
of sunshine which played on the arches, nor the variety of roots and
ivies trailing from the cove. A noise of trickling waters prevailed,
that had almost lulled me to sleep as I rested myself on the celandine
which carpets the floor; but curiosity urging me forward, I gained the
upper air; walked amongst woods a few minutes, and then into grots and
dismal excavations (prisons they call them), which began to weary me.
After having gone up and down in this manner for some time, we at last
reached an eminence that looked over the Mare Morto, and Elysian fields
trembling with poplars. The Dead Lake, a faithful emblem of eternal
tranquillity, looked deep and solemn. A few peasants were passing along
its margin, their shadows reflected on the water: all was serene and
peaceful. Turning from the lake I espied a rock at about a league
distant, whose summit was clad with verdure, and finding this to be the
promontory of Misenus, I immediately set my face to that quarter.
We passed several dirty villages, inhabited by an ill-favoured
generation, infamous for depredations and murders. Their gardens,
however, discover some marks of industry; the fields are separated by
neat hedges of cane, and corn seemed to flourish in the inclosures.
I walked on with slowness and deliberation, musing at every step, and
stopping ever and anon to rest myself by springs and tufted bay-trees;
when insensibly we began to leave the cultivated lands behind us, and to
lose ourselves in shady wilds, which, to all appearance, no mortal had
ever trodden. Here were no paths, no enclosures; a primeval rudeness
characterized the whole scene,—
“Juvat arva videre,
Non rastris, hominum non ulli obnoxia curæ.”
The idea of going almost out of the world, soothed the tone of mind into
which a variety of affecting recollections had thrown me. I formed
conjectures about the promontory to which we were tending; and when I
cast my eyes around the savage landscape, transported myself four
thousand years into antiquity, and half persuaded myself I was one of
Æneas’s companions. After forcing our way about a mile through glades of
shrubs and briars, we entered a verdant opening at the base of the cliff
which takes its name from Misenus. The poets of the Augustan age would
have celebrated such a meadow with the warmest raptures; they would have
discovered a nymph in every flower, and detected a dryad under every
tree. Doubtless imagination never formed a lovelier prospect. Here were
clear streams and grassy hillocks, leafy shrubs and cypresses spiring out
of their bosom,—
“Et circum irriguo surgebant lilia prato
Candida purpureis mista papaveribus.”
But as it is not the lot of human animals to be contented, instead of
reposing in the vale, I scaled the rock, and was three parts dissolved in
attaining its summit,—a flat spot covered with herbage, where I lay
contemplating the ocean, and fanned by its breezes. The sun darted upon
my head; I wished to avoid its immediate influence: no tree was near.
Deep below lay the pleasant valley: ’twas a long way to descend. Looking
round and round, I spied something like a hut, under a crag on the edge
of a dark fissure. Might I avail myself of its covert? My conductor
answered in the affirmative, and added that it was inhabited by a good
old woman, who never refused a cup of milk, or slice of bread, to refresh
a weary traveller.
Thirst and fatigue urged me speedily down an intervening slope of stunted
myrtle. Though oppressed with heat, I could not help deviating a few
steps from the direct path to notice the uncouth rocks which rose
frowning on every quarter. Above the hut, their appearance was truly
formidable; dark ivy crept among the crevices, and dwarf aloes with sharp
spines, such as Lucifer himself might be supposed to have sown. Indeed,
I knew not whether I was not approaching some gate that leads to his
abode, as I drew near a gulph (the fissure lately mentioned) and heard
the hollow gusts which were imprisoned below. The savage, my guide,
shuddered as he passed by to apprise the old woman of my coming. I felt
strangely, and stared around me, and but half liked my situation. To say
truth, I wished myself away, and heartily regretted the green vale.
In the midst of my doubts, forth tottered the old woman. “You are
welcome,” said she, in a feeble voice, but a better dialect than I had
heard in the neighbourhood. Her look was more humane, and she seemed of
a superior race to the inhabitants of the surrounding valleys. My savage
treated her with peculiar deference. She had just given him some bread,
with which he retired to a respectful distance, bowing to the earth. I
caught the mode, and was very obsequious, thinking myself on the point of
experiencing a witch’s influence, and gaining, perhaps, some insight into
the volume of futurity. She smiled at my agitation, and kept beckoning
me into the cottage.
“Now,” thought I to myself, “I am upon the verge of an adventure. O
Quixote! O Sylvio di Rosalva! how would ye have strutted in such a
situation! What fair Infantas would ye not have expected to behold,
condemned to spinning wheels, and solitude?” I, alas! saw nothing but
clay walls, a straw bed, some glazed earthen bowls, and a wooden
crucifix. My shoes were loaded with sand: this my hostess perceived, and
immediately kindling a fire in an inner part of the hovel, brought out
some warm water to refresh my feet, and set some milk and chestnuts
before me. This patriarchal politeness was by no means indifferent after
my tiresome ramble. I sat down opposite to the door which fronted the
unfathomable gulph; beyond appeared the sea, of a deep cerulean, foaming
with waves. The sky also was darkening apace with storms. Sadness came
over me like a cloud, and I looked up to the old woman for consolation.
“And you too are sorrowful, young stranger,” said she, “that come from
the gay world! How must I feel, who pass year after year in these lonely
mountains?” I answered that the weather affected me, and my spirits were
exhausted by the walk.
All the while I spoke she looked at me with such a melancholy earnestness
that I asked the cause, and began again to imagine myself in some fatal
habitation,
“Where more is meant than meets the ear.”
Said she, “Your features are wonderfully like those of an unfortunate
young person, who, in this retirement . . . ” The tears began to fall as
she pronounced these words; she seemed older than before, and bent to the
ground with sorrow. My curiosity was fired. “Tell me,” continued I,
“what you mean? who was this youth for whom you are so interested? and
why did he seclude himself in this wild region? Your kindness might no
doubt alleviate, in some measure, the horrors of the place; but may God
defend me from passing the night near such a gulph! I would not trust
myself in a despairing moment.”
“It is,” said she, “a place of horrors. I tremble to relate what has
happened on this very spot; but your manner interests me, and though I am
little given to narrations, for once I will unlock my lips concerning the
secrets of yonder fatal chasm.
“I was born in a distant part of Italy, and have known better days. In
my youth fortune smiled upon my family, but in a few years they withered
away; no matter by what accident. I am not going, however, to talk of
myself. Have patience a few moments! A series of unfortunate events
reduced me to indigence, and drove me to this desert, where, from rearing
goats and making their milk into cheese, by a different method than is
common in the Neapolitan State, I have, for about thirty years, prolonged
a sorrowful existence. My silent grief and constant retirement had made
me appear to some a saint, and to others a sorceress. The slight
knowledge I have of plants has been exaggerated, and, some years back,
the hours I gave up to prayer, and the recollection of former friends,
lost to me for ever! were cruelly intruded upon by the idle and the
ignorant. But soon I sank into obscurity; my little recipes were
disregarded, and you are the first stranger who, for these twelve months
past, has visited my abode. Ah, would to God its solitude had ever
remained inviolate!
“It is now three-and-twenty years,” and she looked upon some characters
cut on the planks of the cottage, “since I was sitting by moonlight,
under that cliff you view to the right, my eyes fixed on the ocean, my
mind lost in the memory of my misfortunes, when I heard a step, and
starting up, a figure stood before me. It was a young man, in a rich
habit, with streaming hair, and looks that bespoke the utmost terror. I
knew not what to think of this sudden apparition. ‘Mother,’ said he with
faltering accents, ‘let me rest under your roof; and deliver me not up to
those who thirst after my blood. Take this gold; take all, all!’
“Surprise held me speechless; the purse fell to the ground; the youth
stared wildly on every side: I heard many voices beyond the rocks; the
wind bore them distinctly, but presently they died away. I took courage,
and assured the youth my cot should shelter him. ‘Oh! thank you, thank
you!’ answered he, and pressed my hand. He shared my scanty provision.
“Overcome with toil (for I had worked hard in the day), sleep closed my
eyes for a short interval. When I awoke the moon was set, but I heard my
unhappy guest sobbing in darkness. I disturbed him not. Morning dawned,
and he was fallen into a slumber. The tears bubbled out of his closed
eyelids, and coursed one another down his wan cheeks. I had been too
wretched myself not to respect the sorrows of another: neglecting
therefore my accustomed occupations, I drove away the flies that buzzed
around his temples. His breast heaved high with sighs, and he cried
loudly in his sleep for mercy.
“The beams of the sun dispelling his dream, he started up like one that
had heard the voice of an avenging angel, and hid his face with his
hands. I poured some milk down his parched throat. ‘Oh, mother!’ he
exclaimed, ‘I am a wretch unworthy of compassion; the cause of
innumerable sufferings; a murderer! a parricide!’ My blood curdled to
hear a stripling utter such dreadful words, and behold such agonising
sighs swell in so young a bosom; for I marked the sting of conscience
urging him to disclose what I am going to relate.
“It seems he was of high extraction, nursed in the pomps and luxuries of
Naples, the pride and darling of his parents, adorned with a thousand
lively talents, which the keenest sensibility conspired to improve.
Unable to fix any bounds to whatever became the object of his desires, he
passed his first years in roving from one extravagance to another, but as
yet there was no crime in his caprices.
“At length it pleased Heaven to visit his family, and make their idol the
slave of an unworthy passion. He had a friend, who from his birth had
been devoted to his interest, and placed all his confidence in him. This
friend loved to distraction a young creature, the most graceful of her
sex (as I can witness), and she returned his affection. In the
exultation of his heart, he showed her to the wretch whose tale I am
about to tell. He sickened at her sight. She too caught fire at his
glances. They languished—they consumed away—they conversed, and his
persuasive language finished what his guilty glances had begun.
“Their flame was soon discovered, for he disdained to conceal a thought,
however dishonourable. The parents warned the youth in the tenderest
manner; but advice and prudent counsels were to him so loathsome, that
unable to contain his rage, and infatuated with love, he menaced the life
of his friend as the obstacle of his enjoyment. Coolness and moderation
were opposed to violence and frenzy, and he found himself treated with a
contemptuous gentleness. Stricken to the heart, he wandered about for
some time like one entranced. Meanwhile the nuptials were preparing; and
the lovely girl he had perverted found ways to let him know she was about
to be torn from his embraces.
“He raved, and rousing his dire spirit, applied to a malignant dæmon who
sold the most inveterate poisons. These he presented, like a cup of pure
iced water, to his friend, and to his own affectionate father. They
drank the draught, and soon began to pine. He marked the progress of
their dissolution with a horrid firmness. He let the moment pass beyond
which all antidotes were vain. His friend expired; and the young
criminal, though he beheld the dews of death hang on his parent’s
forehead, yet stretched not forth his hand. In a short space the
miserable father breathed his last, whilst his son was sitting aloof in
the same chamber.
“The sight overcame him. He felt, for the first time, the pangs of
remorse. His agitation passed not unnoticed. He was watched: suspicions
beginning to unfold, he took alarm, and one evening escaped; but not
without previously informing the partner of his crimes which way he
intended to flee. Several pursued; but the inscrutable will of
Providence blinded their search, and I was doomed to behold the effects
of celestial vengeance.
“Such are the chief circumstances of the tale I gathered from the youth.
I swooned whilst he related it, and could take no sustenance. One whole
day afterwards did I pray the Lord, that I might die rather than be near
an incarnate demon. With what indignation did I now survey that slender
form and those flowing tresses, which had interested me before so much in
his behalf!
“No sooner did he perceive the change in my countenance, than sullenly
retiring to yonder rock, he sat careless of the sun and scorching winds;
for it was now the summer solstice. Equally was he heedless of the
unwholesome dews. When midnight came my horrors were augmented; and I
meditated several times to abandon my hovel, and fly to the next village;
but a power more than human chained me to the spot and fortified my mind.
“I slept, and it was late next morning when some one called at the wicket
of the little fold, where my goats are penned. I arose, and saw a
peasant of my acquaintance leading a female strangely muffled up, and
casting her eyes on the ground. My heart misgave me. I thought this was
the very maid who had been the cause of such unheard-of wickedness. Nor
were my conjectures ill-founded. Regardless of the clown who stood by in
stupid astonishment, she fell to the earth and bathed my hand with tears.
Her trembling lips with difficulty inquired after the youth; and, as she
spoke, a glow of conscious guilt lightened up her pale countenance.
“The full recollection of her lover’s crimes shot through my memory. I
was incensed, and would have spurned her away; but she clung to my
garments and seemed to implore my pity with a look so full of misery,
that, relenting, I led her in silence to the extremity of the cliff where
the youth was seated, his feet dangling above the sea. His eye was
rolling wildly around, but it soon fixed upon the object for whose sake
he had doomed himself to perdition.
“I am not inclined to describe their ecstasies, or the eagerness with
which they sought each other’s embraces. I turned indignantly my head;
and, driving my goats to a recess amongst the rocks, sat revolving in my
mind these strange events. I neglected procuring any provision for my
unwelcome guests; and about midnight returned homewards by the light of
the moon, which shone serenely in the heavens. Almost the first object
her beams discovered was the guilty maid sustaining the head of her
lover, who had fainted through weakness and want of nourishment. I
fetched some dry bread, and, dipping it in milk, laid it before them.
Having performed this duty I set open the door of my hut, and retiring to
a neighbouring cavity, there stretched myself on a heap of leaves, and
offered my prayers to Heaven.
“A thousand fears, till this moment unknown, thronged into my fancy. I
mistook the shadow of leaves, that chequered the entrance to the grot,
for ugly reptiles, and repeatedly shook my garments. The flow of the
distant surges was deepened by my apprehensions into distant groans: in a
word, I could not rest; but issuing from the cavern as hastily as my
trembling knees would allow, paced along the edge of the precipice. An
unaccountable impulse hurried my steps. Dark clouds were driving across
the sky, and the setting moon was flushed with the deepest crimson. A
wan gleam coloured the sea. Such was my terror and shivering, that,
unable to advance to my hut or retreat to the cavern, I was about to
shield myself from the night in a sandy crevice, when a loud shriek
pierced my ear. My fears had confused me; I was in fact hard by my
hovel, and scarcely three paces from the brink of the cavern: it was from
thence the cries proceeded.
“Advancing in a cold shudder to its edge, part of which was newly
crumbled in, I discovered the form of the young man suspended by one foot
to a branch of juniper that grew ten feet down: thus dreadfully did he
hang over the gulph from the branch bent with his weight. His features
were distorted, his eye-balls glared with agony, and his screams became
so shrill and terrible, that I lost all power of assistance. Fixed, I
stood with my eyes riveted upon the criminal, who incessantly cried out,
‘O God! O Father! save me, if there be yet mercy! save me, or I sink
into the abyss!’
“I am convinced he saw me not; for not once did he implore my help. My
heart was dead within me. I called out upon the Lord. His voice grew
faint, and as I gazed intent upon him, he fell into utter darkness. I
sank to the earth in a trance, during which a sound like the rush of
pennons assaulted my ear: methought the evil spirit was bearing off his
soul; I lifted up my eyes, but nothing stirred; the stillness that
prevailed was awful.
“The moon looked stained with streaks of blood; her orb hanging low over
the waves afforded a sickly light, by which I perceived some one coming
down that white cliff you see before you; and soon I heard the voice of
the young woman calling aloud on her guilty lover. She stopped. She
repeated again and again her exclamation; but there was no reply.
Alarmed and frantic she hurried along the path, and now I saw her on the
promontory, and now by yonder pine, devouring with her glances every
crevice in the rock. At length perceiving me, she flew to where I stood,
by the fatal precipice, and having noticed the fragments fresh crumbled
in, pored importunately on my countenance. I continued pointing to the
chasm; she trembled not; her tears could not flow; but she divined the
meaning. ‘He is lost!’ said she; ‘the earth has swallowed him! but, as I
have shared with him the highest joy, so will I partake his torments. I
will follow; dare not to hinder me.’ I shrank back.
“Like the phantoms I have seen in dreams, she glanced beside me; and,
clasping her hands above her head, lifted a steadfast look on the
hemisphere, and viewed the moon with an anxiousness that told me she was
bidding it farewell for ever. Observing a silken handkerchief on the
ground, with which she had but an hour ago bound her lover’s temples, she
snatched it up, and imprinting it with burning kisses, thrust it into her
bosom. Once more, expanding her arms in the last act of despair and
miserable passion, she threw herself, with a furious leap, into the
gulph.
“To its margin I crawled on my knees, and, shuddering, looked down into
the gloom. There I remained in the most dreadful darkness; for now the
moon was sunk, the sky obscured with storms, and a tempestuous blast
ranging the ocean. Showers poured thick upon me, and the lightning, in
clear and frequent flashes, gave me terrifying glimpses of yonder
accursed chasm.
“Stranger, dost thou believe in the great Being? in our Redeemer? in the
tenets of our faith?” I answered with reverence, but said I was no
Catholic. “Then,” continued the aged woman, “I will not declare before a
heretic what were the sacred visions of that night of vengeance!” She
paused; I was silent.
After a short interval, with deep and frequent sighs, she resumed her
narrative. “Daylight began to dawn as if with difficulty, and it was
late before its radiance had tinged the watery and tempestuous clouds. I
was still kneeling by the gulph in prayer when the cliffs began to
brighten, and the beams of the morning sun to strike against me. Then
did I rejoice. Then no longer did I think myself of all human beings the
most abject and miserable. How different did I feel myself from those,
fresh plunged into the abodes of torment, and driven for ever from the
morning!
“Three days elapsed in total solitude: on the fourth, some grave and
ancient persons arrived from Naples, who questioned me, repeatedly, about
the wretched lovers, and to whom I related their fate with every dreadful
particular. Soon after I learned that all discourse concerning them was
expressly stopped, and that no prayers were offered up for their souls.”
With these words, as well as I recollect, the old woman ended her
singular narration. My blood thrilled as I walked by the gulph to call
my guide, who stood aloof under the cliffs. He seemed to think, from the
paleness of my countenance, that I had heard some gloomy prediction, and
shook his head when I turned round to bid my old hostess adieu! It was a
melancholy evening, and I could not refrain from tears, as, winding
through the defiles of the rocks, the sad scenes which had passed amongst
them recurred to my memory.
Traversing a wild thicket, we soon regained the shore, where I rambled a
few minutes whilst the peasant went for the boatmen. The last streaks of
light were quivering on the waters when I stepped into the bark, and
wrapping myself up in an awning, slept till we reached Puzzoli, some of
whose inhabitants came forth with torches to light us home.
I was vexed to be roused from my visions, and had much rather have sunk
in some deep cave of the Cimmerians than returned to Naples.