Naples, Past and PresentNorway, Arthur H. (Arthur Hamilton)
History
Naples, Past and Present
Norway, Arthur H. (Arthur Hamilton)
Naples (Italy) -- Description and travel
Indeed, on entering the inclosure of the Solfatara, one receives the
impression of treading the winding alleys of a well-kept and lovely
park. The path runs through a pretty wood. The trees are scarcely more
important than a coppice; but under their green shade there grows a
wealth of flowers of every colour, glowing in the soft sunshine which
filters through the boughs. There is the white gum-cistus, which is so
strangely like the white wild rose of English hedges, and the
branching asphodel, with myriads of those exquisite anemones, lilac
and purple, which make the woods of Italy in springtime a perpetual
joy to us who come from colder climates; and among these, a profusion
of smaller blossoms trailing on the ground, crimson, white and orange,
making such a mass of colour as the most cunning gardener would seek
vainly to produce. One lingers and delays among these woods, doubting
whether any sight which may be shown one further on can compensate for
the loss of the cool glades.
But already over the green coppice bare grey hillsides have come in
sight. They are the walls of the old crater, and here and there a puff
of white smoke curling out of a cleft reminds me that the flowers are
only here on sufferance, and that the whole hollow is in fact but
waiting the moment when its hidden fires will break forth again, and
vomit destruction over all the country. A few yards further on the
coppice falls away. The flowers persist in carpeting the ground; but
in a little way they too cease, the soil grows grey and blasted. Full
in front there rises a strange scene of desolation. The wall of the
crater is precipitous and black. At its base there are openings and
piles of discoloured earth which suggest the débris of some factory of
chemicals, an impression which is driven home by the yellow stains of
sulphur which lie in every direction on the grey bottom of the crater.
From one vast rent in the soil a towering pillar of white smoke pours
out with a loud hissing noise, and blows away in wreaths and coils
over the dark surface of the cliff.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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