G. N. Wright - Shores and Islands of the Mediterranean (1840)
What sees he by that meteor's lour ?
A banner'd castle, keep, and tower,
Return the lurid gleam,
With battled walls, and buttress fast,
And barbican, and ballium vast,
And airy flanking towers, that east
Their shadows on the stream. Scott.
The little island of Ischia is one of those volcanic productions
that attract the admiration of the geologist in the igneous locality
of Vesuvius. But a few hundred yards from the site of the mimic
capital of the island, a bed of lava, that flowed full five centuries
ago, continues still as sterile as if it were in a thermal and
liquid state, giving life to no species of vegetable produce, save
a few arid liveworts. The surface of this volcanic stream is now
for a short depth light and spongy, but deeper it is denser, and
of adamantine hardness. Every part, however, of the islet exhibits
incontrovertible proofs of an igneous origin; “the burnt
ground” is a cooled lava-flood; feldspar, tufa, pumice,
and enamels abound on the Rotaro, Epopeo, Monte Zaro, and Monte
Imperatore. Various crater-like appearances, of amphitheatrical
forms, may yet be observed -and although a fountain of fire, poured
forth so recently as the year 1302, these irregular rugged basins,
in the vicinity of a vast assemblage of argillaceous rocks, are
the only indications of the precise source of the terrible event.
The circuit of the isle does not exceed eighteen English miles,
and the coast during part of that length is occupied with villages,
conspicuous by their white fronts, that strongly contrast with
the verdure of the vines, and roseate colours of the little hanging
gardens that are interspersed amongst the cottages. The more elevated
parts of the conical hills, whose assemblage composes the isle
of Ischia, are black and barren, yet in the indurated, sterile
rock that forms the point of culmination, a hermitage is formed,
with a sacred chapel, and three silent cells, in which as many
holy men pursue their pious calling. One of these reverend fathers
perambulates the island-bounds every week, bringing back bread,
oil, wine, and every requisite for the service of the altar; the
islanders hail his hebdomadal visit with the sincerest joy, and,
having gladly bestowed their bounty, sometimes follow the hermit,
on a pilgrimage to his chapel on the rock. Nature has blessed the
isle with a serene sky, an ever-cloudless atmosphere, the mildest
winter, and most genial spring. There are isles, 'tis said, off
the coast of Ireland, the early abode of saints, where the aborigines
can never die, and only obtain a release from the sorrows
and infirmities of accumulated years, by being transported to the
less sacred soil of the mainland. The philosopher's stone
has not yet been found amongst Ischia's mineral wealth, the elixir
vita not yet concocted on its shores, nor can its healthful
clime confer that immortality in which St. Leon found not happiness,
yet still it is held in the highest esteem for the purity and salubrious
quality of the air, and invalids are transported thither from Naples
in great numbers. Through the munificence of the wealthiest or
most charitable Neapolitans, a spacious hospital has been
founded here, to which some thousand convalescents are annually
conveyed, in barges kept for the sole purpose; and, during the
bathing season, the king generally visits the island, contributes
liberally to the maintenance of the hospital, and confers a small
portion upon every indigent young female of Ischia. The gardens
around the convalescents' apartments resemble the grounds enclosing
a miraculous well, being hung with trophies won by the virtues
of the climate; few relics, however, possess a proof so palpable,
as the crutches which perfect restoration enabled the patient to
dedicate freely, safely, gratefully, to the patron saint.
A remarkable feature in the view of Ischia is the pyramidal peninsular
rock, crowned with a strong fortress, but which was unable to resist
the impetuous assault of the British, under Sir John Stuart, in
the year 1809. It is joined to the island by a causeway and bridge,
and communicates with the town by a subterraneous passage. The
English, however, soon evacuated the Ischian citadel, finding
that it was a key to no useful possession; but the islanders look
upon its occupation with the utmost jealousy, never permitting
the castle to be garrisoned by troops that are not natives of the
rock. The capital of this beautiful but barren isle is an episcopal
see, with above three thousand inhabitants, and contained a still
larger population before 1828, when the ravages of an earthquake
induced the most timid to pass over to the continent. But little
trade of any kind is conducted by the islanders; the porcelain
clay found here was much valued by the ancients, who appear to
have almost exhausted the supply, as true terra d'Ischia is
now extremely rare.