A ramble on the shore of Baii.--Local traditions.--Cross the
bay.--Fragments of a temple dedicated to Hercules.--Wondrous
reservoir constructed for the fleet of Nero.--The Dead Lake.--Wild
scene.--Beautiful meadow. Uncouth rocks.--An unfathomable
gulph.--Sadness induced by the wild appearance of the
place.--Conversation with a recluse.--Her fearful
narration.--Melancholy evening.
November 8th, 1780.
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 the 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 buoyant 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 had led 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 sea 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
Pozzuoli. 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, chesnut, bay and ilex, that shelter the ruins of sepulchral
chambers. 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 inquisitive young travellers that had gone before me.
After ascending some time, I followed him into the wondrous[10]
reservoir which Nero constructed to supply his fleet, when anchored in
the neighbouring bay. A noise of trickling waters prevailed throughout
this grand labyrinth of solid vaults and arches, 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 commanded the Mare Morto, and Elysian fields
trembling with reeds and poplars. The Dead Lake, a faithful emblem of
eternal tranquillity, looked deep and solemn. A few peasants seemed
fixed on its margin, their shadows reflected on the water. 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 a variety of herbs and pulses and Indian corn
seemed to flourish in the inclosures. 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
inclosures; a primeval rudeness characterized the whole scene.
After forcing our way about a mile, through glades of shrubs and briars,
we entered a lawn-like 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, and peopled its green expanse
with all the sylvan demi-gods of their beautiful mythology. Here were
springs issuing from rocks of pumice, and grassy hillocks partially
concealed by thickets of bay.
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. The sun darted upon my head, I wished to avoid
its immediate influence; no tree was near; the pleasant valley lay below
at a considerable depth, and it was a long way to descend to it. 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, bristled over with sharp-spired dwarf aloes, 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 deep
hollow murmurs of the 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.
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.” I saw
nothing, however, 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 chesnuts before me. This patriarchal attention 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.
“Your features,” said she, “are wonderfully like those of an unfortunate
young person, who, in this retirement....” The tears began to fall as
she pronounced these words; 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 to him
might no doubt have alleviated, 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 to talk much 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 unbridled 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 like a demoniac, and rousing his dire spirit, applied to a
malignant wretch who sold the most inveterate poisons. These he infused
into a cup of pure iced water and presented to his friend, and to his
own too fond confiding father, who soon after they had drunk the fatal
potion began evidently to pine away. 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 agitations 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. He was equally 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 atrocious 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 enquired 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.
“Far be it from me to describe their ecstasies, or the eagerness with
which they sought each other’s embraces. I indignantly turned my head
away; 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. The
shadow of leaves that chequered the entrance to the grot, seemed to
assume in my distempered imagination the form of ugly reptiles, and I
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
would have hurried my steps, yet 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 near my hovel
and scarcely three paces from the brink of the cavern: it was 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 several feet down: thus dreadfully
did he hang over the gulph from the branch bending 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 affording
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 did not see me; for not once did he implore my help.
His voice grew faint, and as I gazed intent upon him, the loose thong of
leather, which had entangled itself in the branches by which he hung
suspended, gave way, and 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;
but when I lifted up my eyes nothing stirred; the stillness that
prevailed was awful.
“The moon 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
I soon 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.’
“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 there did I remain 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 our Redeemer? in his most holy mother?
in the tenets of our faith?” I answered with reverence, but said her
faith and mine were different. “Then,” continued the aged woman, “I will
not declare before a heretic what were the 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, whilst,
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.