lers have led themselves and their guides into no inconsiderable danger by persisting in making the attempt. One party who succeeded in getting in were unable to return, and were kept prisoners there till the want of provisions and all other accommodation led to most serious privations; fortunately a change in the weather allowed them to make their exit before a worse result than mere inconvenience befell them.
On the day when we visited the Blue Grotto, there was not even a ripple on the water, it lay glittering in the golden light. The deep blue of the sea, as we looked close down upon it, surpassed anything I could have imagined, in spite of all I had already seen of its lovely colour. Our hands when plunged in the water appeared as if carved in blue marble, the shadow which the boat threw upon it was of the purest, darkest blue, the reflection of the oars formed moving streaks of every shade of blue.
The view of the shore we were leaving was very striking: the clearness of the atmosphere in that country brings everything so near to one that the hills covered with luxurious fruit trees, the picturesque vines falling in the most graceful festoons, the magnificent ilex and olive trees contrasting so well with the brighter greens, the white houses of the town, the terrace gardens a gorgeous mass of colour, the trellised walls covered with a profusion of pink and red china roses, the pretty fishing-boats,—all together formed a beauteous panorama apparently close to us, and, by some strange illusion, it even seemed to move with us.
The island of Capri, on which the cave is situated is approachable only on one side; around it ascend steep walls of cliff, which, towards Naples, stretch out, amphitheatre-like, with vineyards and orange-groves covering their sides. Upon the shore stand several fishermen’s huts; higher up, amid the green gardens, is the little city of Anna Capri, into which a very small drawbridge and gates give admittance. Towards the south of the island are lofty portals of rock, which rear themselves, in solitary grandeur, out of the sea. After rowing along the shores sufficiently to see the general aspect of the island, we approached that side where is situated the entrance to the far-famed grotto or cave, called by the country-people the Witches’ Cave. Before entering, it may be well to say something respecting its discovery, as for many centuries it was entirely unknown, at least to travellers, though strange traditions respecting it existed amongst the inhabitants from a very remote date.
In the year 1831, two young Germans, named Pries and Kopisch, travelling in Italy, spent some days in the islaud of Capri, and heard rumours of the Witches’ Cave, of which they, after great difficulty, discovered the entrance and persisted in visiting it, in spite of the strong prejudices of the boatmen, who firmly believed that, whoever entered it, would be swallowed up in a flaming caldron. Nothing could induce the men to go one step further than the entrance; but the two adventurous youths thoroughly explored the grotto, and conquered the superstitious dread of the people by the fact of their return alive and uninjured; and ever since that period it has been the resort of every traveller to these beautiful regions.
Kopisch was born at Breslau, and is the author of a beautiful novel, called “The Bald Rocks of Capri,” and of many poems published in 1837. Ernst Pries was a landscape painter of extraordinary promise, the son of M. Pries, the well-known banker of Heidelberg. He spent many years in Italy, and his finest pieces are scenes from that beautiful countiy. He died suddenly, while yet quite young, at Carlsruhe, and lies buried under a beautiful monument at Heidelberg.
Only when we were close to the island did we remark the extraordinary purity and clearness of the water; it was so wonderfully transparent, I had never seen anything like it. As we glided along, every little stone, the smallest substances, were visible. The depth of the water close in shore was very great; it made one dizzy to look down from the edge of our boat into the profound depth over which we were passing. We began to look about for the entrance to the cave, and presently one of our boatmen, called out, “Eccola, signora!” I looked and looked in vain; nothing could I see but the dark face of the rock and the deep waters rippling against it; still his finger remained pointed in the same direction, and again I looked more steadfastly than before, when at length I espied, close to the very edge of the water, a small oblong opening; a slit would give a juster idea of its appearance. I own that, at first, I did not believe the man was serious, it seemed to me so fearfully out of the question, for not merely human beings, but a boat to enter by such an aperture; but, in spite of my incredulity, the information was quite correct. As soon as we were quite close to the rocks, we saw a tiny, almost flat, boat moored quite close to the rocks, and into it myself and one other of the party were desired to get; no easy matter stepping from the larger boat into this very fragile, unsteady one; but at last it was achieved, and then we were told to lie flat down, not even raising our heads in the slightest degree, for fear of a blow from the overhanging rocks. The next step was, that one of the boatmen got into the water, only his head and shoulders appearing; then he seized fast hold of our boat, watched his opportunity (after the other men had shoved it almost within the opening), and drew the boat into the cave, aided by the slight swell of the sea. So urgent was the necessity for perfect stillness, that the boatmen kept saying, “Lie still, lie still; don’t move hand or foot,” until our boat was fairly through the arch; and then he cautiously helped us out, and we were able to look around.
Many of my readers may never even have heard of the Blue Grotto; and even those who have heard it spoken of, may still not have the very least idea what it is really like; and very difficult it is to give a really good description of it—indeed so difficult that I shall partly adopt the poetic language of a gifted writer, who was a frequent visitor to this enchanting spot. Thus he writes: “Far below me, above me, and around me, was the blue ether; electric sparks, millions of falling stars, glittered around me. It was as