Naples, Past and PresentNorway, Arthur H. (Arthur Hamilton)
History
Naples, Past and Present
Norway, Arthur H. (Arthur Hamilton)
Naples (Italy) -- Description and travel
Presently the coast-line sinks to a more moderate height. The tower of
Damecuta is seen ahead, and below it a stair, cut in the face of the
rock, leads down to a low arched opening, through which the blue sea
is washing in and out. A couple of women in gay dresses are sitting in
the shade upon the stair. A few boats are rocking on the blue water,
strangely, intensely blue, even in the morning shadow which the cliffs
fling out across the sea. It was not the rich, royal colour which one
may see about the shores of western England, nor yet the exquisite
soft turquoise which glows by all the bays and headlands of this
coast, but a darker and more watery blue, verging on indigo rather
than on any other single colour.
The boat approached the opening. The boatman, warning me to lie flat
in the stern, shipped his oars, grasped a chain which was fastened to
the rock, and, at the lowest point of the wet, winding entrance,
flung himself backward on my body, while the boat shot into what for
an instant seemed a moonlit darkness. But on struggling up erect I
became conscious of a strange, milky radiance, which grew and
brightened as the sight adjusted itself, until I saw that the waves
washing round the boat were of a silvery blue, which is like nothing
else, lambent, incandescent, flashing with the softest glow
imaginable. One thinks of the shimmering flashes in the heart of an
opal, of the flame of phosphorus, of the most delicate colour on a
blue bird's throat--there is no similitude for that which has no
match, nothing else upon the earth which is not gross when set beside
these waves of purest light, impalpable, unsubstantial, and radiantly
clear. "Che colore?" I asked in wonder; and the boatman, no less awed
by the strange beauty, answered very low, "Il cielo," and sat silent,
stirring his oar gently, so as to make spouts of light among the blue
reflections.
The roof of the Blue Grotto, low-spreading near the entrance, rises at
the centre into a domed vault. It is not dark--nowhere in the grotto is
it dark--it is neither light nor dark, but blue; blue pervades the
air, and plays about the crannies of the roof like flame, far paler
than the sea, yet quick and living.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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