The Underground World: A mirror of life below the surface

by Thomas Wallace Knox

AN UNFORTUNATE ENGLISHMAN.

After looking at the couch of the Sibyl we started back to our landing-place. Just as we neared it we met another party going in. One of the porters of the new party was evidently weak in the knees, for he stumbled just as he passed me, and went down like a handful of mud. The gentleman he carried was dropped into the water, and fell flat, as though intending to take a swim. He slowly rose to his feet, and after blowing the water from his mouth with a noise like the spouting of a whale, he ventured several remarks that were nowise complimentary to his porter or to the place. He appeared somewhat excited. His language showed him to be English, but there was nothing in it to indicate that he was a member in good and regular standing of the Church of England. He did not finish his journey to the bath and couch of the Sibyl, but followed us to the shore, where he wrung himself out, and then retired to his carriage to be hung up to dry. With a heartlessness peculiar to many travellers, he refused to pay the porter for his services. It is fortunate that the latter did not understand English, as he would have been offended at the remarks which were made about him.

From the Sibyl’s Cave we went to the famous Lake of Avernus, which was described by Virgil long before anybody who reads this book was familiar with a single word of Latin. Near the lake is the famous passage into the mountain about which Virgil wrote:—

“Facilis descensus Averni. Sed revocare gradum, hic opus, hic labor est.”

We paid our admission fee, and then prepared according to the directions of the guide. We laid aside our coats and vests, removed our collars, neck-ties, and hats, and altogether put ourselves in a condition quite improper in polite society. A boy stood ready to precede us in a costume consisting of a pair of pantaloons and a tin pail. A fresh egg was now shown us, and we examined it to see that it was quite cold and raw. The boy then took the egg and a torch, and went into a tunnel like the one at the Sibyl’s Cave. A blast of hot air met us at the entrance, as though it came from a furnace, and I thought of Nebuchadnezzar and the treat that he used to have for his visitors. On and on we went, and also down and down. Old Virgil was right when he said that the descent was easy, for we went down with the grace of so many oysters entering the mouth of a champagne bottle. Hotter and hotter grew the air, and before we were half way down I remembered some business that I had neglected when I left America. I wanted to go back to look after it, but my friends argued that it would keep a little longer, and I had better go on. So we continued down into the bowels of the mountain, over a slippery pathway and in a temperature as agreeable as that of the stoker’s room on a steamship.

We reached the end at last, and the boy stooped to the edge of a pool of water and placed the egg within it. We could see a thin vapor rising from the surface, and readily imagined that it was steam. The boy was careful of his hands, more careful than was necessary, since he might have added to the interest of the occasion by scalding them, and then hiring another boy to take his place. There were plenty of boys outside who could be hired cheap, and if a dozen were killed daily by scalding, or rendered helpless, it would have made no serious diminution of the Italian population.

FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI.

We stood there a couple of minutes, and then the boy took the tin pail and scooped up the egg and a quart or two of water. He then started back, and scrambled quite nimbly up the steep and slippery path. It was a difficult ascent to make, and we acknowledged that Virgil’s head was level when he told about the labor required to retrace one’s steps from Avernus. We perspired like a man who has just learned that he is the father of triplets, and by the time we completed the journey, our clothing was pretty thoroughly saturated. The boy was accustomed to it, as the old lady’s eels were to being skinned, and the hide on his shirtless back looked like the outside of a long-used pocket-book. The egg was thoroughly cooked, and the water in the pail was of a scalding temperature, altogether too hot to put one’s hand into. The egg cost us half a franc, and so did the boy: one of us ate the egg with a little salt, but we declined to eat the boy with or without salt, and he did not urge us.

The guide told us that one day an Englishman went down the “descensus Averni,” and on arriving at the hot water, he stepped around so carelessly that he slipped and fell in. His cries and shrieks rang through the tunnel; he was pulled out as quickly as possible, but he was so badly scalded that he died in a few hours. Several accidents have happened there by persons scalding their hands and feet, but the character of the place is such, that people are likely to be careful; otherwise there would be frequent casualties to record.

NERO’S PRISON.