He Crosses The Ridge And Descends To The Sea On The Other Side,
To The So-Called Scaricatojo - Quite A Respectable Walk, As Any One Can
Find Out For Himself.
Hence he sails to the larger of the islets, climbs
to the summit and makes some excavations, in the course of which he
observes what I thought I was the first to discover - the substructures
of a noble Roman villa; he also scrambles into King Robert's tower.
Then
to the next islet, and up it; then to the third, and up it. After that,
he is tempted to visit the headland of Minerva; he goes there, and
satisfies his curiosity. He must now hence to Capri. He sails across,
and after a little refreshment, walks to the so-called Villa of Jupiter
at the easterly apex of the island. He then rows round the southern
shore and is taken with the idea of a trip to Misenum, twenty miles or
so distant. Arrived there, he climbs to the summit of the cape and
lingers a while - it is pleasant to find him lingering - to examine
something or other. Then he "rushes" down to the boat and bids them row
to Pozzuoli, where he arrives (and no wonder) long after sunset. A good
day's hustle....
The ladies made a great impression on his sensitive mind; yet not even
they were allowed to interfere with his plans. At Strongoli the
"sparkling eyes of the younger sister" proved the most attractive object
in the place. He was strongly urged to remain a while and rest from his
fatigues. But no; there were many reasons why he should press forward.
He therefore presses forward. At another place, too, he was waited upon
by his entertainer's three daughters, the youngest of whom was one of
the most entrancing girls he had ever met with - in fact, it was well
that his time was limited, else "I verily believe I should have
committed all kinds of follies." That is Ramage. He parts from his host
with "unfeigned regret" - but - parts. His time is always limited. Bit for
that craze of pressing forward, what fun he could have had!
Stroll to that grove of oaks crowning a hill-top above the Serpentaro
stream. It has often been described, often painted. It is a corner of
Latium in perfect preservation; a glamorous place; in the warm dusk of
southern twilight - when all those tiresome children are at last
asleep - it calls up suggestions of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Here is a
specimen of the landscape as it used to be. You may encounter during
your wanderings similar fragments of woodland, saved by their
inaccessibility from the invading axe. "Hands off the Oak!" cries an old
Greek poet.
The Germans, realizing its picturesque value, bought this parcel of land
and saved the trees from destruction. It was well done. Within, they
have cut certain letterings upon the rock which violate the sylvan
sanctity of the place - Germans will do these things; there is no
stopping them; it is part of their crudely expansive temperament
- certain letterings, among other and major horrors, anent the "Law of
the Ever-beautiful" (how truly Teutonic!) - lines, that is, signed by the
poet Victor von Scheffel, and dated 2 May, 1897.
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