No More Learning

"I went to Baiae," he says, "with my friends, Barbato and Barrilli.
Everything concurred to render this jaunt agreeable--good company, the
beauty of the scenes, and my extreme weariness of the city I had
quitted. This climate, which, as far as I can judge, must be
insupportable in summer, is delightful in winter. I was rejoiced to
behold places described by Virgil, and, what is more surprising, by
Homer before him. I have seen the Lucrine lake, famous for its fine
oysters; the lake Avernus, with water as black as pitch, and fishes of
the same colour swimming in it; marshes formed by the standing waters of
Acheron, and the mountain whose roots go down to hell. The terrible
aspect of this place, the thick shades with which it is covered by a
surrounding wood, and the pestilent odour which this water exhales,
characterize it very justly as the Tartarus of the poets. There wants
only the boat of Charon, which, however, would be unnecessary, as there
is only a shallow ford to pass over. The Styx and the kingdom of Pluto
are now hid from our sight. Awed by what I had heard and read of these
mournful approaches to the dead, I was contented to view them at my feet
from the top of a high mountain. The labourer, the shepherd, and the
sailor, dare not approach them nearer. There are deep caverns, where
some pretend that a great deal of gold is concealed; covetous men, they
say, have been to seek it, but they never return; whether they lost
their way in the dark valleys, or had a fancy to visit the dead, being
so near their habitations.

"I have seen the ruins of the grotto of the famous Cumaean sybil; it is a
hideous rock, suspended in the Avernian lake. Its situation strikes the
mind with horror. There still remain the hundred mouths by which the
gods conveyed their oracles; these are now dumb, and there is only one
God who speaks in heaven and on earth. These uninhabited ruins serve as
the resort of birds of unlucky omen.
Not far off is that dreadful cavern
which leads, _they say_, to the infernal regions. Who would believe
that, close to the mansions of the dead, Nature should have placed
powerful remedies for the preservation of life? Near Avernus and Acheron
are situated that barren land whence rises continually a salutary
vapour, which is a cure for several diseases, and those hot-springs that
vomit hot and sulphureous cinders. I have seen the baths which Nature
has prepared; but the avarice of physicians has rendered them of
doubtful use. This does not, however, prevent them from being visited by
the invalids of all the neighbouring towns. These hollowed mountains
dazzle us with the lustre of their marble circles, on which are engraved
figures that point out, by the position of their hands, the part of the
body which each fountain is proper to cure.

"I saw the foundations of that admirable reservoir of Nero, which was to
go from Mount Misenus to the Avernian lake, and to enclose all the hot
waters of Baiae.

"At Pozzuoli I saw the mountain of Falernus, celebrated for its grapes,
whence the famous Falernian wine. I saw likewise those enraged waves of
which Virgil speaks in his Georgics, on which Caesar put a bridle by the
mole which he raised there, and which Augustus finished. It is now
called the Dead Sea. I am surprised at the prodigious expense the Romans
were at to build houses in the most exposed situations, in order to
shelter them from the severities of the weather; for in the heats of
summer the valleys of the Apennines, the mountains of Viterbo, and the
woods of Umbria, furnished them with charming shades; and even the ruins
of the houses which they built in those places are superb. "

Our poet's residence at Naples was evidently disagreeable to him, in
spite of the company of his friends, Barrilli and Barbato. His
friendship with the latter was for a moment overcast by an act of
indiscretion on the part of Barbato, who, by dint of importunity,
obtained from Petrarch thirty-four lines of his poem of Africa, under a
promise that he would show them to nobody. On entering the library of
another friend, the first thing that struck our poet's eyes was a copy
of the same verses, transcribed with a good many blunders. Petrarch's
vanity on this occasion, however, was touched more than his anger--he
forgave his friend's treachery, believing it to have arisen from
excessive admiration. Barbato, as some atonement, gave him a little MS.