INTRODUCTION. I VISITED Naples in the year 1818. On the 8th of December of that year, mycompanion and I crossed the Bay, to visit the antiquities which arescattered on the shores of Baiae. The translucent and shining waters of thecalm sea covered fragments of old Roman villas, which were interlaced bysea-weed, and received diamond tints from the chequering of the sun-beams;the blue and pellucid element was such as Galatea might have skimmed in hercar of mother of pearl; or Cleopatra, more fitly than the Nile, have chosenas the path of her magic ship. Though it was winter, the atmosphere seemedmore appropriate to early spring; and its genial warmth contributed toinspire those sensations of placid delight, which are the portion of everytraveller, as he lingers, loath to quit the tranquil bays and radiantpromontories of Baiae.
We visited the so called Elysian Fields and Avernus: and wandered throughvarious ruined temples, baths, and classic spots; at length we entered thegloomy cavern of the Cumaean Sibyl. Our Lazzeroni bore flaring torches,which shone red, and almost dusky, in the murky subterranean passages,whose darkness thirstily surrounding them, seemed eager to imbibe more andmore of the element of light. We passed by a natural archway, leading to asecond gallery, and enquired, if we could not enter there also. The guidespointed to the reflection of their torches on the water that paved it,leaving us to form our own conclusion; but adding it was a pity, for it ledto the Sibyl's Cave. Our curiosity and enthusiasm were excited by thiscircumstance, and we insisted upon attempting the passage. As is usuallythe case in the prosecution of such enterprizes, the difficulties decreasedon examination. We found, on each side of the humid pathway, "dry land forthe sole of the foot."
At length we arrived at a large, desert, dark cavern, which the Lazzeroniassured us was the Sibyl's Cave. We were sufficiently disappointed—Yetwe examined it with care, as if its blank, rocky walls could still beartrace of celestial visitant. On one side was a small opening. Whither doesthis lead? we asked: can we enter here?—"Questo poi, no,"—said thewild looking savage, who held the torch; "you can advance but a shortdistance, and nobody visits it."
"Nevertheless, I will try it," said my companion; "it may lead to the realcavern. Shall I go alone, or will you accompany me?"
I signified my readiness to proceed, but our guides protested against sucha measure. With great volubility, in their native Neapolitan dialect, withwhich we were not very familiar, they told us that there were spectres,that the roof would fall in, that it was too narrow to admit us, that therewas a deep hole within, filled with water, and we might be drowned. Myfriend shortened the harangue, by taking the man's torch from him; and weproceeded alone.
The passage, which at first scarcely admitted us, quickly grew narrower andlower; we were almost bent double; yet still we persisted in making our waythrough it. At length we entered a wider space, and the low roofheightened; but, as we congratulated ourselves on this change, our torchwas extinguished by a current of air, and we were left in utter darkness.The guides bring with them materials for renewing the light, but we hadnone—our only resource was to return as we came. We groped round thewidened space to find the entrance, and after a time fancied that we hadsucceeded. This proved however to be a second passage, which evidentlyascended. It terminated like the former; though something approaching to aray, we could not tell whence, shed a very doubtful twilight in the space.By degrees, our eyes grew somewhat accustomed to this dimness, and weperceived