We had chosen to ascend to the old crater rather than to the new one of the recent eruption on the side of the mountain, where there is nothing to be seen.When we reached the bottom of the Cone, our guide led us to the north side, and into a region that did begin to look like business.The wind drove all the smoke round there, and we were half stifled with sulphur fumes to begin with.Then the whole ground was discolored red and yellow, and with many more gay and sulphur-suggesting colors.And it actually had deep fissures in it, over which we stepped and among which we went, out of which came blasts of hot, horrid vapor, with a roaring as if we were in the midst of furnaces.And if we came near the cracks the heat was powerful in our faces, and if we thrust our sticks down them they were instantly burned; and the guides cooked eggs; and the crust was thin, and very hot to our boots; and half the time we couldn't see anything; and we would rush away where the vapor was not so thick, and, with handkerchiefs to our mouths, rush in again to get the full effect.After we came out again into better air, it was as if we had been through the burning, fiery furnace, and had the smell of it on our garments.And, indeed, the sulphur had changed to red certain of our clothes, and noticeably my pantaloons and the black velvet cap of one of the ladies; and it was some days before they recovered their color.But, as I say, there was no sense of danger in the adventure.
We descended by a different route, on the south side of the mountain, to our horses, and made a lark of it.We went down an ash slope, very steep, where we sank in a foot or little less at every step, and there was nothing to do for it, but to run and jump.We took steps as long as if we had worn seven-league boots.When the whole party got in motion, the entire slope seemed to slide a little with us, and there appeared some danger of an avalanche.But we did n't stop for it.It was exactly like plunging down a steep hillside that is covered thickly with light, soft snow.There was a gray-haired gentleman with us, with a good deal of the boy in him, who thought it great fun.
I have said little about the view; but I might have written about nothing else, both in the ascent and descent.Naples, and all the villages which rim the bay with white, the gracefully curving arms that go out to sea, and do not quite clasp rocky Capri, which lies at the entrance, made the outline of a picture of surpassing loveliness.
But as we came down, there was a sight that I am sure was unique.As one in a balloon sees the earth concave beneath, so now, from where we stood, it seemed to rise, not fall, to the sea, and all the white villages were raised to the clouds; and by the peculiar light, the sea looked exactly like sky, and the little boats on it seemed to float, like balloons in the air.The illusion was perfect.As the day waned, a heavy cloud hid the sun, and so let down the light that the waters were a dark purple.Then the sun went behind Posilipo in a perfect blaze of scarlet, and all the sea was violet.Only it still was not the sea at all; but the little chopping waves looked like flecked clouds; and it was exactly as if one of the violet, cloud-beautified skies that we see at home over some sunsets had fallen to the ground.And the slant white sails and the black specks of boats on it hung in the sky, and were as unsubstantial as the whole pageant.Capri alone was dark and solid.And as we descended and a high wall hid it, a little handsome rascal, who had attended me for an hour, now at the head and now at the tail of my pony, recalled me to the realities by the request that I should give him a franc.
For what? For carrying signor's coat up the mountain.I rewarded the little liar with a German copper.I had carried my own overcoat all day.
SORRENTO DAYS
OUTLINES
The day came when we tired of the brilliancy and din of Naples, most noisy of cities.Neapolis, or Parthenope, as is well known, was founded by Parthenope, a siren who was cast ashore there.Her descendants still live here; and we have become a little weary of their inherited musical ability: they have learned to play upon many new instruments, with which they keep us awake late at night, and arouse us early in the morning.One of them is always there under the window, where the moonlight will strike him, or the early dawn will light up his love-worn visage, strumming the guitar with his horny thumb, and wailing through his nose as if his throat was full of seaweed.He is as inexhaustible as Vesuvius.We shall have to flee, or stop our ears with wax, like the sailors of Ulysses.
The day came when we had checked off the Posilipo, and the Grotto, Pozzuoli, Baiae, Cape Misenum, the Museum, Vesuvius, Pompeii, Herculaneum, the moderns buried at the Campo Santo; and we said, Let us go and lie in the sun at Sorrento.But first let us settle our geography.
The Bay of Naples, painted and sung forever, but never adequately, must consent to be here described as essentially a parallelogram, with an opening towards the southwest.The northeast side of this, with Naples in the right-hand corner, looking seaward and Castellamare in the left-hand corner, at a distance of some fourteen miles, is a vast rich plain, fringed on the shore with towns, and covered with white houses and gardens.Out of this rises the isolated bulk of Vesuvius.This growing mountain is manufactured exactly like an ant-hill.
The northwest side of the bay, keeping a general westerly direction, is very uneven, with headlands, deep bays, and outlying islands.
