Travels, Adventures, and Experiences of Thomas Trotter.
CHAPTER XI.
Descent into the crater of Mount Ætna.—Novel site for a house.—The great chesnut tree.—Return down the mountain.—Journey to Messina.—Beauty of the scenery.—Sicilian spinners.—Extraordinary strength of the ass.—Mountain torrents.—Sights on the road.
My readers left me in the last chapter at the top of Etna, standing on the edge of the crater and looking down into that smoking gulf with feelings of wonder and awe. The situation was not without its dangers; but the sublimity and grandeur of the scene tempted me to additional hazards. I determined to go down into the crater, though I had heard of people making the same attempt, and paying for their rashness with their lives. It is natural enough that there should be such stories, but I never knew one well authenticated. In fact, the inside of the crater offers as firm footing as the outside, and the only risk is in going too far down. I ventured in, taking good care to feel the way before me with my stick, and holding on to the projecting crags in my descent. I found the surface to consist of broken rocks of lava, mingled with hard sulphurous masses, cinders, and ashes. By the time I had descended a stone’s throw, I encountered a strong smell of sulphur, which soon became overpowering, and forced me to direct my course farther to windward. I proceeded along laterally, some distance, and then struck downward again; but the sulphurous smoke steamed up so hot from all the crevices and openings around me, that I was obliged to stop for fear of suffocation.
I then seated myself for a few moments on a brimstone rock, and gazed at the strange scene around. The edge of the crater rose up like an immense wall over my head, shutting out every prospect except that of the sky, and the tremendous gulf beneath my feet was full of smoking hills and yawning chasms. There was no fear of being interrupted in this strange solitude, and notwithstanding the wild and threatening looks of this fiery region, I felt as safe as if I had been at the foot of the mountain. While sitting here, I was struck with a notion which I believe never entered a man’s head before; namely, that of building a house inside the crater! It was a Yankee notion indeed, but there is a house on the edge of Niagara falls, and I am confident that if Ætna were in the state of Massachusetts, some Yankee would have a house inside the crater, and take boarders and lodgers. There is as good a foundation within as without, and the situation would be warm and well sheltered from the violent cold winds which are almost always blowing at the top of the mountain!
After I had satisfied my curiosity by this close prospect of the mouth of the great volcano, I climbed back over the edge, and descended the cone much faster than I went up, although the descent was far more painful and hazardous than the ascent; much caution was necessary to avoid sliding from the top to the bottom. I found my companion at the foot of the cone, snuggling under the shelter of a rock, thrashing his arms, blowing his fingers, and complaining of being half frozen. I only laughed at him for not accompanying me to the top, where I told him he might have warmed himself very comfortably. As for myself, I did not feel chilled in the least, and I set off down the mountain in excellent spirits, having accomplished the main object of my journey.
There was, however, another great curiosity on the other side of the mountain, which I would not lose the sight of. This was the famous chesnut tree, called the Chesnut of the Hundred Horses, because it is so large that a hundred horses may stand inside the trunk. We accordingly struck off to the eastward along the edge of the forest. The cork and chesnut trees were very numerous in this quarter, and many of the latter were of an enormous size. When we approached the great chesnut, and the guide pointed it out to me, I took it for a group of half a dozen trees, for so it appeared. In fact, when we reached it, I could hardly persuade myself that it was a single tree. The interior of the trunk is entirely decayed; leaving nothing but five or six detached portions, which look like separate trees, but on digging to the roots, they are found united; and there is no doubt the whole formerly composed a solid trunk. There is no bark on the inside, and the tree has been in this decayed state for a century or more. Its age no one can tell. I looked upon its enormous size with astonishment. It is about 200 feet in circumference; so that the interior might contain a large house, and leave much vacant space besides. It was not the season for fruit, but I remarked to the guide that if the nuts bore any proportion to the tree, they must be bigger than cocoanuts. I did not learn, however, that the fruit is larger than that of other chesnut trees in this quarter. The European chesnuts, I must observe, are three times as large as the American, but they are not so sweet, and are hardly ever eaten raw.
There are several other chesnut trees of enormous size upon the mountain. The surprising fertility of the soil which produces this gigantic vegetation is owing to the ashes thrown out by the mountain. In every part where the surface has not been covered by the lava and sand, the growth of the trees and vegetables is most luxuriant. The ashes have been found to contain abundance of nitre, which, when combined with the soil in a proper quantity, is known to be of wonderful efficacy in quickening the growth of plants.
I could have spent a month upon the mountain with great satisfaction, exploring its wonders and curiosities, but having so long a journey before me, I found myself obliged to leave it without visiting a great many interesting spots. I should, in particular, have been pleased to pass some time in the queer little village high up the mountain. The inhabitants are certainly a strange sort of people, and must have some very odd notions of the rest of the world, which it would be amusing to know. I shall certainly visit Ætna again, when a chance offers.
I returned to Catania, where I staid two or three days, and then set out for Messina. Having been informed that there was a good road the whole distance, instead of a rambling mule-track like that from Syracuse, I ventured on this part of the journey alone, with a good stout mule, which I bought for the purpose. The road ran along the seashore at the foot of the mountain, and I was more and more struck with the beauty and grandeur of the scenery. The slopes of the mountain were covered with villages, gardens, and groves of orange, olive, cherry, almond and fig trees; the great white cap of Ætna everywhere towering over all. The houses along the road were painted with huge staring figures in bright colors, like landscape paper-hangings. The fields, as usual, were divided by walls of black lava, and long-horned oxen were ploughing in them. Droves of donkeys were going to the city with loads of dry vinestalks for the bakers’ ovens, and others bore casks of wine, long and shaped like eel-pots, slung over their backs. I met also wagons loaded with lemons, as our countrymen cart their potatoes to market. In the walls along the road, at almost every step, were niches containing pictures of the virgin, to which the people paid their adorations. As I proceeded further, I came to huge rocky cliffs overhanging the road, and all overgrown with the prickly pear. Herds of goats were clambering up and down the steep precipices, and browsing among the rocks. Sometimes the road passed along the side of a mountainous crag overhanging the sea, with a parapet on one side, over which I looked down a fearful depth, and saw the ocean dashing under my feet. In other places the road was cut through a solid rock.
Everywhere the prospect offered the most enchanting scenery. In some places the slope of the mountain was cut into terraces, which looked like tiers of gardens piled one upon another. The vineyards did not look so blooming as most of the other cultivated grounds, for the vines were not yet in leaf; the peasants were hoeing round them and setting the props. The road passed through a great many villages, and in all, the streets were full of women. Many of them carried jugs of water on their heads, and others sat before the doors spinning tow. They use only a spindle and distaff; they hold the distaff in the left hand, give the spindle a twirl with the right, and let it swing in the air, the spinner drawing out the tow as it flies round. The thread is then wound up on the spindle, and another twirl given to it. In this manner they are accustomed to run about the streets and spin, which I think may fairly be called spinning street-yarn.
I had often heard that the ass was a strong-backed animal, but I never had stronger evidence of the fact than upon this journey. As I was jogging along the road towards noon, I espied a figure coming towards me with the strangest movements that ever I witnessed. It had the appearance of a man, but he moved in so awkward a manner, shambling and toddling onward by jerks and hitches, that I knew not what to make of the sight. When he came nearer, I discovered that it was an enormous long-legged fellow, astride of a little dwarfish donkey, not bigger than a two-year-old calf. The beast was so much smaller than the man, that I did not observe him till he was very near. The fellow’s legs were so long that he was obliged to hold them up behind him to keep his feet from dragging on the ground. The poor little donkey tottered and staggered under his enormous load, and seemed ready to stumble every moment. I stopped the man, and asked him if he was not afraid of breaking the back of his beast. He appeared quite astonished at the question, and replied that an ass’s back was a thing that never broke; at least, he had never heard of such an accident. I told him he was much better able to carry the ass than the ass was to carry him; on which he burst into a broad laugh, gave the donkey a bang with his cudgel, and trotted on.
Now and then the road crossed the bed of a mountain torrent, caused by the heavy rains which fall on the regions above. When the rains are violent, the waters pour down these beds with such impetuosity as to sweep everything before them, and stop all travelling upon the roads. Sometimes a river is thus formed half a mile in width, which continues full, as long as the rains last. In dry weather nothing is left but beds of coarse gravel and stones, with small streams of water trickling through them. It is impossible to build bridges over these torrents, as the waters often rise to an extraordinary height, and rush with such force that nothing could stand against them.
I met very few wheel carriages of any description. Regular stage-coaches, I believe, are unknown, and most of the travellers I passed were either on foot, or mounted on mules and asses. Carts and wagons, too, are uncommon; almost everything being transported on the backs of these animals. The few vehicles that I saw were of the most rude and clumsy make, and their harness nothing but a slovenly snarl of old ropes. I could not help wishing the inhabitants of this fine country were blessed with a little Yankee smartness and industry.
CHAPTER XII.
A wedding party.—Strange ignorance of the Sicilians.—The tavern at Giardini.—Ruins of Taormina.—Remarkable theatre.—Cities on mountain-tops.—Cliffs covered with goats.—Odd fashion of dressing infants.—Sicilian husbandry.—A squall in the straits.—Arrival at Messina.
As I approached a little village, I overtook a wedding party going home from church. They were all mounted on asses, and were accompanied by the priest, a fat little round-faced, pleasant-looking fellow, with a three-cornered hat. The bride was a blowzy, hoydenish country girl, all bedizened out in tawdry finery, simpering and giggling to every one, and apparently full of spirits. The bridegroom was a sheepish-looking peasant, who appeared to feel very awkward in his new situation. All the rest of the company were full of fun and jollity, and very readily entered into conversation with me. At first they took me for an Englishman, but when they learnt that I had come from the New World, they stared in utter astonishment: they had never seen an American before, and always imagined we were all Indians or blacks. They invited me to accompany them, and partake of their entertainment, which I agreed to very willingly. I went along with them to the house, where we found more company already assembled, and great numbers of ragged children trooping about to stare at the show. The house was a small, one-story building, and I was afraid they would find it a difficult matter to accommodate so many guests. But presently benches were brought and placed in front of the house, under the shade of the olive trees, and we sat down in the open air. The fare consisted of bread, olives, kid’s flesh, green fennel, fruit and red wine. The old priest was the most jolly and talkative of the whole company, and I may add that he ate and drank as much as any three of them. He sat by my side, and asked me a hundred questions about America: whether the people were Christians, whether they dressed in clothes like civilized people, or wore the skins of wild beasts, whether they did not eat one another, and many more things equally extravagant.
My readers may think it hardly possible that such ignorance can be found in a person pretending to superior knowledge; but instances of the same kind came under my observation so frequently during my travels, that at last they ceased to excite any surprise. It must be borne in mind that the country in which I was travelling is not, like the United States, full of roads, in which crowds of people are continually hurrying backwards and forwards; and full of newspapers and books, which are constantly circulating through the country, and carrying knowledge to the remotest village in the Union. There are but two or three roads, deserving of the name, in the whole island of Sicily, and hardly such a thing as a newspaper. Very few books are printed here, and general knowledge, even among the better sort of people, is very scanty.
Being in a hurry to proceed on my journey, I could not wait till the close of the entertainment, but mounted my mule just as the company had struck up a dance. I travelled till sunset, when I reached a little fishing town called Giardini, romantically situated under the brow of a high hill, with the sea at the foot. I found a snug little tavern in a street which ran along the shore, where I put up for the night. The host was a simple, good-natured old man, in a red cap, and his house was quite comfortable, though small for a tavern. From my chamber window I had a grand prospect of the sea, which came rolling in with a beautiful surf directly under my feet. High rocky hills, with a castle and heaps of ancient ruins, rose up over me close at hand; and far off across the water, the eye rested upon the dark blue mountains of Calabria.
Early the next morning I climbed up the hill over the town to visit the ruins of an ancient city called Taormina, which formerly stood there. I was struck with the beautiful situation of the theatre, which is still in tolerable preservation, although upwards of two thousand years old. This edifice looks directly towards Mount Ætna; so that the spectators always had the magnificent picture of the mountain as a background to the scenery of the stage. It is certainly the grandest situation in the world for such a building. Other ruins abound in the place, but I have not time to describe them. The hill on which this city stood is so steep of ascent that no wheel carriage can go up, though asses and mules climb up and down tolerably well. I remarked that almost all ancient cities in this country were built on the tops of hills and mountains, difficult of access, showing that these communities
sprung up in barbarous times, when every town feared the hostilities of its neighbors, and the sea-coasts were perpetually liable to be plundered by pirates. As civilization advanced, the population descended into the plains.
After breakfast, I continued my journey toward Messina. The country still presented the same beautiful and picturesque scenery. Groves, gardens, orchards and fresh green pastures greeted the eye in every direction. Numerous towns and villages were seen perched on the tops of almost inaccessible mountains; town above town and castle above castle, mounting into the air. Sometimes the road passed under high rocky crags, where I saw herds of goats hanging over my head and clambering among the dizzy precipices. Often the tinkling of a bell aloft caused me to gaze upwards, when I beheld numbers of these adventurous animals sticking against the rocks like flies on the side of a house, and seeming ready to fall on my head every moment. The fields were full of laborers at work, ploughing and hoeing. They all wore white cotton caps, and a group of them at a distance looked like a flock of geese. These white caps afford a better defence against the sun than a covering of any other color. The sun here is very powerful, and a sun-stroke is dreaded more than any other accident from the weather.
In one of the fields I saw a countryman ploughing, while his little infant child lay under a tree; the mother, I suppose, had run off to gossip. Nothing can look more droll than one of these little things in swaddling-clothes. They wind long bandages of cloth tightly round the child from head to foot, so that it looks very like an Egyptian mummy, without being able to kick, wince, or sprawl, but may be rolled about like a stick of wood. This little fellow was stuck up against a tree, as stiff as a turkey skewered and spitted for roasting, his eyes rolling upward to the sky, and winking like a toad in the sunshine. I could not help bursting into a roar of laughter at the sight. The man stopped his oxen and looked round, intending, as I thought, to give me some rude greeting; but seeing me so convulsed with merriment, he joined in, and laughed as heartily as I did. I asked him if the children did not suffer from this tight swathing. He said no, but, on the contrary, they were very fond of it. I told him I doubted this very strongly; but he assured me the children never complained of it, and that was proof enough. I afterwards found this practice was common throughout all Italy.
I did not see a cow during the whole journey; horses too were of rare occurrence. The country people hardly ever own these animals; but, instead of them, use goats and asses, which are much cheaper. Pasturage for cows and horses is expensive; but the goats can clamber among the rocks and nibble the herbage that grows beyond the reach of man. The asses feed upon thistles, and any sort of coarse vegetation. The multitude of these animals makes the landscape look exceedingly picturesque to the eyes of an American. Nothing can be more diverting than the frolics and caperings of the little kids, as they gallop round their mothers while feeding. The young donkeys look very comically; they are ragged, scraggy and wild, and I have been many times startled by their uncouth appearance when I have met with them browsing among the lonely mouldering ruins. If it were not for their long ears, they might be taken for young lions.
I continued to pass rich cultivated fields and immense groves of olives. About the middle of the afternoon I came in sight of a wide extent of the coast of Calabria on the opposite side of the straits. The land was black, craggy and mountainous, with steep and rugged chasms. Nearly opposite, I could discern the white walls of Reggio. The sky, which had hitherto been clear and serene, now became obscured, and dark clouds gathered in the north-east. Presently I observed great heavy, spongy masses of cloud rolling down the Calabrian mountains toward the sea, looking very ragged and wild. I judged that a squall was about to burst upon us, for this narrow strait, hemmed in by mountains on each side, is particularly subject to sudden and violent gusts. The sky continued to grow blacker, and presently the wind came down the strait with a most furious blast, lashing the sea up into a perfect foam. There were twelve or fifteen vessels in sight, standing up the strait, when the squall came on. Among them were a Neapolitan sloop of war and an English merchant brig. The rest were small vessels with latine sails. All except the Englishman took in sail at the first appearance of the squall; they were familiar with these parts, and knew what was coming. The Englishman, thinking there could be no danger, kept all his canvass spread, when, in an instant, the blast struck him with such force that both masts snapped off like pipe-stems, and the vessel lay a mere hulk on the water. A heavy shower of rain came pouring down the next moment, which drove me into a house for shelter, and when the sky cleared up, there were no vessels to be seen. I continued my journey, and just after sunset arrived at Messina.
(To be continued.)
There is sense in truth, and truth in virtue.
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities.
