Messina,
Thursday, May 10, 1787.
And so at last we arrived in Messina, where, as we knew of no lodging, we made up our minds to pass the first night at the quarters of our vetturino, and look out for a more comfortable habitation in the morning. In consequence of this resolution, our first entrance gave us the terrible idea of entering a ruined city; for, during a whole quarter of an hour as we rode along we passed ruin after ruin, before we reached the auberge, which, being the only new building that has sprung up in this quarter, opens to you from its first-story window a view of nothing but a rugged waste of ruins. Beyond the circle of the stable-yard not a living being of any kind was to be seen. During the night the stillness was frightful. The doors would neither bolt nor even close. There was no more provision here for the entertainment of human guests than at any other of the similar posting-stations: however, we slept very comfortably on a mattress which our vetturino took away from beneath the very body of our host.
To-day our worthy muleteer left us, and a good largesse rewarded him for his attentive services. We parted very amicably, after he had first procured us a servant to take us at once to the best inn in the place, and afterward to show us whatever was at all remarkable in Messina. Our first host, in order that his wish to get rid of us might be gratified as quickly as possible, helped to carry our boxes and other packages to a pleasant lodging nearer to the inhabited portion of the city,—that is to say, beyond the city itself. The following description will give some idea of it. The terrible calamity which visited Messina, and swept away twelve thousand of its inhabitants, did not leave behind it a single dwelling for the thirty
