Ischia showed a new aspect on the morning of our departure. A sea-mist
passed along the skirts of the island, and rolled in heavy masses round
the peaks of Monte Epomeo, slowly condensing into summer clouds, and
softening each outline with a pearly haze, through which shone emerald
glimpses of young vines and fig-trees.
We left in a boat with four oarsmen for Pozzuoli. For about an hour the
breeze carried us well, while Ischia behind grew ever lovelier, soft as
velvet, shaped like a gem. The mist had become a great white luminous
cloud--not dense and alabastrine, like the clouds of thunder; but filmy,
tender, comparable to the atmosphere of Dante's moon. Porpoises and
sea-gulls played and fished about our bows, dividing the dark brine in
spray. The mountain distances were drowned in bluish vapour--Vesuvius
quite invisible. About noon the air grew clearer, and Capri reared her
fortalice of sculptured rock, aerially azure, into liquid ether. I know
not what effect of atmosphere or light it is that lifts an island from
the sea by interposing that thin edge of lustrous white between it and
the water. But this phenomenon to-day was perfectly exhibited. Like a
mirage on the wilderness, like Fata Morgana's palace ascending from the
deep, the pure and noble vision stayed suspense 'twixt heaven and ocean.
At the same time the breeze failed, and we rowed slowly between Procida
and Capo Miseno--a space in old-world history athrong with Caesar's
navies. When we turned the point, and came in sight of Baiae, the wind
freshened and took us flying into Pozzuoli. The whole of this coast has
been spoiled by the recent upheaval of Monte Nuovo with its lava floods
and cindery deluges. Nothing remains to justify its fame among the
ancient Romans and the Neapolitans of Boccaccio's and Pontano's age. It
is quite wrecked, beyond the power even of hendecasyllables to bring
again its breath of beauty:
Mecum si sapies, Gravina, mecum
Baias, et placidos coles recessus,
Quos ipsae et veneres colunt, et illa
Quae mentes hominum regit voluptas.
Hic vina et choreae jocique regnant,
Regnant et charites facetiaeque.
Has sedes amor, has colit cupido.
Hic passim juvenes puellulaeque
Ludunt, et tepidis aquis lavantur,
Coenantque et dapibus leporibusque
Miscent delitias venustiores:
Miscent gaudia et osculationes,
Atque una sociis toris foventur,
Has te ad delitias vocant camoenae;
Invitat mare, myrteumque littus;
Invitaut volucres canorae, et ipse
Gaurus pampineas parat corollas.[B]
At Pozzuoli we dined in the Albergo del Ponte di Caligola (Heaven save
the mark!), and drank Falernian wine of modern and indifferent vintage.
Then Christian hired two open carriages for Naples. He and I sat in the
second. In the first we placed the two ladies of our party. They had a
large, fat driver. Just after we had all passed the gate a big fellow
rushed up, dragged the corpulent coachman from his box, pulled out a
knife, and made a savage thrust at the man's stomach. At the same moment
a _guardia-porta_, with drawn cutlass, interposed and struck between the
combatants. They were separated. Their respective friends assembled in
two jabbering crowds, and the whole party, uttering vociferous
objurgations, marched off, as I imagined, to the watch-house. A very
shabby lazzarone, without more ado, sprang on the empty box, and we made
haste for Naples. Being only anxious to get there, and not at all
curious about the squabble which had deprived us of our fat driver, I
relapsed into indifference when I found that neither of the men to whose
lot we had fallen was desirous of explaining the affair. It was
sufficient cause for self-congratulation that no blood had been shed,
and that the Procuratore del Re would not require our evidence.
The Grotta di Posilippo was a sight of wonder, with the afternoon sun
slanting on its festoons of creeping plants above the western
entrance--the gas lamps, dust, huge carts, oxen, and _contadini_ in its
subterranean darkness--and then the sudden revelation of the bay and
city as we jingled out into the summery air again by Virgil's tomb.