Fri. 14. [14 February 1902] Father rather ill with rheumatism. He had a
very bad night. After consultation H [Hugo] and I decided to set out
for Eryx [Erice]. Took the tram at 9.20 as far as the SS Annunziata at
the foot of the hill, an old church secularized with a fine W door. When
we set out Eryx was covered with cloud, but it retired before us and the
mountain became quite clear. We took 1h 10m from the tram to the
village, San Giuliano, a lovely walk with exquisite views, but extremely
windy. San Giuliano is enchanting, a many towered little hill town. All
the people were wrapped up in big coats and hoods and mufflers,
indeed the streets were still wet with mist. We entered by a gate in the
fortifications; to the left a lovely tower and a church with a fine porch.
Here we were caught by one who led us up to the Castello. The
women are dark and very handsome, they also go wrapped in a long
black silk veil. The castello is now a prison. Its foundations are those
of that ancient shrine before history, at which the Elymians worshipped
and which became under the hands of different conquerors the Shrine
of Astarte, Aphrodite and Venus. The Virgin is now the patron of the
village - the Eternal Feminine! The only very old vestiges are a well
and an ancient passage onto which we gazed down, called the Porte
del Diavolo. It opens onto the precipice. The view was perfectly
wonderful; sea on 3 sides and the hills in which Segesta lies to the E,
but it was a little cloudy to the S and we could not see Pantelleria or
Cape Bon. We ran down to the tram in 40 min, caught a tram after
waiting just time to eat 2 oranges and came back to the hotel in time to
pack, eat a very hasty lunch and catch the 1.38 with Father. The
clouds closed in behind us; as we left Trapani, Eryx had again put on
its cap of mist. Got to Marsala at 2.30, passing along the coast and
seeing the low island which was Motya. Marsala was Lilyboeum and
is an uninteresting place. Hotel Central, and very bad. We all walked
about a little then Father went in and H and I went to see the
Stabilmento di Viaro of Woodhouse, the oldest here and drank
Marsala of the year 1815. We came back to the most disgusting tea,
it tasted of straw and varnish, butter uneatable. Fortunately we had
brought some biscuits and some rather stickjaw peach jam.