MOUNTAINS.

“And lo! the mountains print the distant sky,And o’er their airy tops faint clouds are driven,So softly blending that the cheated eye,Forgets or which is earth, or which is heaven!”—Fay.

“And lo! the mountains print the distant sky,

And o’er their airy tops faint clouds are driven,

So softly blending that the cheated eye,

Forgets or which is earth, or which is heaven!”—Fay.

“Mountains and all hills—let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven.”—David.

Among thewonders, or uncommon phenomena of the world, may be classed stupendousmountains. For though compared with the entire diameter of the earth, the highest elevations on its surface are no more than the inequalities on the skin of the orange to the orange itself, yet to our eyes they often appear immensely lofty and sublime. Descriptions of such vast and striking objects often fail to excite corresponding ideas; so that however accurate or poetical may be the accounts of this class of the prodigies of nature, no just notions of their vastness can be conveyed, by any written or graphical representation. The magnitude of an object must beseenseento be duly conceived; and the mountain-wonders of the world will best be understood and felt by those who have visited Wales, Scotland, Switzerland, or the mountainous regions of America or Asia.

Some of the loftiest and most extensive mountains in the world, are the Andes, in South America. These stupendous hills, called by the Spaniards theCordilleras, (from the wordcordorchain,)i.e.the chains of theAndes, stretch north and south near the western coast, from the isthmus of Darien, through the whole of the continent of South America, to the straits of Magellan. In the north, there are three chains of separate ridges; but in advancing from Popayan toward the south, the three chains unite into a single group, which is continued far beyond the equator. In Equador, near Quito, the more elevated summits of this group are ranged in two rows, (as seen in the cut below,) which form a double crest to the Cordilleras. The extent of the Andes mountains is not less than four thousand three hundred miles, from one end to the other.

THE CORDILLERAS, OR ANDES, NEAR QUITO.

“Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines,That on the high equator ridgy rise,Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays.”—Thomson.

“Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines,

That on the high equator ridgy rise,

Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays.”—Thomson.

In this country, the operations of nature appear to have been carried on on a larger scale, and with a bolder hand, than elsewhere; and in consequence, the whole is distinguished by a peculiar magnificence. Even theplain of Quito, which may be considered as the base of the Andes, is more elevated above the sea than the summits of many European mountains. In different places the Andes rise more than one-third higher than the famous peak of Teneriffe, the highest land in the ancient hemisphere. Their cloud-enveloped summits, though exposed to the rays of the sun in the torrid zone, are covered with eternal snows, and below them the storm is seen to burst, and the exploring traveler hears the thunder roll, and sees the lightnings dart beneath his feet. Throughout the whole of the range of these extensive mountains, as far as they have been explored, there is a certain boundary, above which the snow never melts; which boundary, in the torrid zone, has been ascertained to be fourteen thousand, six hundred feet, or nearly three miles above the level of the sea.

The ascent to the plain of Quito, on which stands Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, Pichincha, &c., is thus described by Don Juan de Ulloa:

“The ruggedness of the road from Taraguaga, leading up the mountain, is not easily described. The declivity is so great, in some parts, that the mules can scarcely keep their footing; and, in others, the acclivity is equally difficult. The trouble of sending people before to mend the road, the pain arising from the many falls and bruises, and the being constantly wet to the skin, might be supported; but these inconveniences are augmented by the sight of such frightful precipices and deep abysses, as excite in the mind constant terror. The road, in some places, is so steep, and yet so narrow, that the mules are obliged to slide down without making any use whatever of their feet. On one side of the rider, in this situation, rises an eminence of many hundred yards; and, on the other, is an abyss of equal depth; so that, if he should give the least check to his mule, and destroy the equilibrium, both must inevitably perish.

“Having traveled nine days in this manner, slowly winding along the sides of the mountains, we began to find the whole country covered with a hoar-frost; and a hut, in which we reposed, had ice in it. At length, after a perilous journey of fifteen days, we arrived upon a plain, at the extremity of which stands the city of Quito, the capital of one of the most charming regions in the world. Here, in the center of the torrid zone, the heat is not only very tolerable, but, in some places, the cold is even painful. Here the inhabitants enjoy the temperature and advantages of perpetual spring; the fields being constantly covered with verdure, and enameled with flowers of the most lively colors. But although this beautiful region is more elevated than any other country in the world, and it employs so many days of painful journey in the ascent, it is itself overlooked by tremendous mountains, their sides being covered with snow, while their summits are flaming withvolcanoes. These mountains seem piled one upon the other, and to rise, with great boldness, to an astonishing hight. However, at a determined point above the surface of the sea, the congelation is found at the same hight in all the mountains. Those parts which are not subject to a continual frost, have here and there growing upon them a species of rush, resembling the broom, but much softer and more flexible. Toward the extremity of the part where the rush grows, and the cold begins to increase, is found a vegetable with a round bulbous head. Higher still, the earth is bare of vegetation, and seems covered with eternal snow. The most remarkable of the Andes are the mountains of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, and Pichincha.”

This is the most lofty and majestic peak of the Andes, and has a circular summit. It is twenty-two thousand feet, or more than four miles high. On the shores of the ocean, after the long rains of winter, Chimborazo appears like a cloud in the horizon. It detaches itself from the neighboring summits, and raises its lofty head over the whole chain of the Andes. Travelers who have approached the summits of Mont Blanc and Mont Rose, are alone capable of feeling the effect of such vast, majestic, and solemn scenery.

The bulk of Chimborazo is so enormous, that the part which the eye embraces at once, near the limit of the snows, is twenty-two thousand, nine hundred and sixty-eight feet, or four miles and a third in breadth. The extreme rarity of the strata of air across which the summits of the Andes are seen, contributes greatly to the splendor of the snow and the magical effect of its reflection. Under the tropics, at a hight of sixteen thousand, four hundred feet, or upward of three miles, the azure vault of the heavens appears of an indigo tint; while, in so pure and transparent an atmosphere, the outlines of the mountains seem to detach themselves from the sky, and produce an effect at once sublime, awful, and profoundly impressive.

With the exception of the loftiest of the Himalaya, in Asia, Chimborazo is the highest known mountain in the world. Humboldt, Bonpland, and Montufar, were persevering enough to approach within one thousand, six hundred feet of the summit of this mighty king of mountains. Being aided in their ascent by a train of volcanic rocks, destitute of snow, they thus attained the amazing hight of nearly four miles above the level of the sea; and the former of these naturalists is persuaded that they might have reached the highest summit, had it not been for the intervention of a great crevice, or gap, which they were unable to cross. They were, therefore, obliged to descend, after experiencing great inconveniences and many unpleasant sensations. For three or four days, even after their return intothe plain, they were not free from sickness, and an uncomfortable feeling, owing, as they suppose, to the vast proportion of oxygen in the atmosphere above. Long before they reached the above surprising hight, they had been abandoned by their guides, the Indians, who had taken alarm and were fearful of their lives. So great was the fall of snow on their return, that they could scarcely recognize each other, and they all suffered dreadfully from the intenseness of the cold.

A great number of Spaniards formerly perished in crossing the vast and dangerous deserts which lie on the declivity of Chimborazo; being now, however, better acquainted with them, such misfortunes seldom occur, especially as very few take this route, unless there be a prospect of calm and serene weather.

This mountain is the loftiest of those volcanoes of the Andes which, at recent epochs, have undergone eruptions. Notwithstanding it lies near the equator, its summits are covered with perpetual snows. The absolute hight of Cotopaxi is eighteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-six feet, or three miles and a half; consequently it is two thousand, six hundred and twenty-two feet, or half a mile, higher than Vesuvius would be, were that mountain placed on the top of the peak of Teneriffe! Cotopaxi is the most mischievous of the volcanoes in the vicinity of Quito, and its explosions are the most frequent and disastrous. The masses of scoriæ, and the pieces of rock, thrown out of this volcano, cover a surface of several square leagues, and would form, were they heaped together, a prodigious mountain. In 1738, the flames of Cotopaxi rose three thousand feet, or upward of half a mile, above the brink of the crater. In 1744, the roarings of this volcano were heard at the distance of six hundred miles. On the fourth of April, 1768, the quantity of ashes ejected at the mouth of Cotopaxi was so great, that it was dark till three in the afternoon. The explosion which took place in 1803, was preceded by the sudden melting of the snows which covered the mountain. For twenty years before no smoke or vapor, that could be perceived, had issued from the crater; but in a single night the subterraneous fires became so active, that at sunrise the external walls of the cone, heated to a very considerable temperature, appeared naked, and of the dark color which is peculiar to vitrified scoriæ. “At the port of Guyaquil,” observes Humboldt, “fifty-two leagues distant in a straight line from the crater, we heard, day and night, the noise of this volcano, like continued discharges of a battery; and we distinguished these tremendous sounds even on the Pacific ocean.”

The form of Cotopaxi is the most beautiful and regular of the colossal summits of the high Andes. It is a perfect cone, which, covered with a perpetual layer of snow, shines with dazzling splendor at the setting of the sun, and detaches itself in the most picturesque manner from the azure vault above. This covering of snow conceals from the eye of the observer even the smallest inequalities of the soil; no point of rock, no stony mass, penetrating this coat of ice, or breaking the regularity of the figure of the cone.

Though celebrated for its great hight, Pichincha is three thousand, eight hundred and forty-nine feet, or three-fourths of a mile, lower than the perpendicular elevation of Cotopaxi. It was formerly a volcano; but the mouth or crater on one of its sides is now covered with sand or calcined matter, so that at present neither smoke nor ashes issue from it.

When it was ascended by Don George Juan and Don Antonio de Ulloa, for the purpose of their astronomical observations, they found the cold on the top of this mountain extremely intense, the wind very violent, and the fog, or, in other words, the cloud, so thick, that objects at the distance of six or eight paces were scarcely discernible. On the air becoming clear, by the clouds descending nearer the earth, in such a manner as to surround the mountain on all sides to a vast distance, these clouds afforded a lively representation of the sea, in which the top of the mountain seemed to stand, like an island in the center.

“With aspect mild, and elevated eye,Behold him seated on a mount serene,Above the fogs of sense, and passion’s storm:All the black cares and tumults of this life,Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet.”—Young.

“With aspect mild, and elevated eye,

Behold him seated on a mount serene,

Above the fogs of sense, and passion’s storm:

All the black cares and tumults of this life,

Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet.”—Young.

When the clouds descended, the astronomers heard the dreadful noise of tempests, which discharged themselves from them on the adjacent country. They saw the lightning issue from the clouds, and heard the thunder roll far beneath them. While the lower parts were thus involved in tempests of thunder and rain, they enjoyed a delightful serenity; the wind abated, the sky cleared, and the enlivening rays of the sun moderated the severity of the cold. But when the clouds rose, their density rendered respiration difficult: snow and hail fell continually, and the winds returned with such violence, that it was impossible to overcome the fear of being blown down the precipices, or of being buried by the accumulation of ice and snow, or by the enormous fragments of rocks which rolled around them. Everycrevice in their hut was stopped, and though the hut was small, was crowded with inhabitants, and several lamps were constantly burning, the cold was so great, that each individual was obliged to have a chafing-dish of coals, and several men were employed every morning in removing the snow which had fallen during the night. Their feet were swollen, and they became so tender and sensible, that walking was attended with extreme pain; their hands also were covered with chilblains, and their lips were so swollen and chapped, that every motion in speaking brought blood.

“Now under sulphurous Cuma’s sea-bound coast,And vast Sicilia, lies the shaggy breastOf snowy Etna, nurse of endless frost,The pillared prop of heaven, forever pressed:Forth from whose sulph’rous caverns issuing risePure liquid fountains of tempestuous fire,Which vail in ruddy mists the noonday skies,While wrapt in smoke the eddying flames aspire,Or gleaming through the night with hideous roar,Far o’er the redd’ning main huge rocky fragments pour.“But he, Vulcanian monster, to the cloudsThe fiercest, hottest inundations throws,While, with the burthen of incumbent woods,And Etna’s gloomy cliffs o’erwhelmed he glows.There on his flinty bed outstretch’d he lies,Whose pointed rock his tossing carcass wounds;There with dismay he strikes beholding eyes,Or frights the distant ear with horrid sounds.”—West.

“Now under sulphurous Cuma’s sea-bound coast,

And vast Sicilia, lies the shaggy breast

Of snowy Etna, nurse of endless frost,

The pillared prop of heaven, forever pressed:

Forth from whose sulph’rous caverns issuing rise

Pure liquid fountains of tempestuous fire,

Which vail in ruddy mists the noonday skies,

While wrapt in smoke the eddying flames aspire,

Or gleaming through the night with hideous roar,

Far o’er the redd’ning main huge rocky fragments pour.

“But he, Vulcanian monster, to the cloudsThe fiercest, hottest inundations throws,While, with the burthen of incumbent woods,And Etna’s gloomy cliffs o’erwhelmed he glows.There on his flinty bed outstretch’d he lies,Whose pointed rock his tossing carcass wounds;There with dismay he strikes beholding eyes,Or frights the distant ear with horrid sounds.”—West.

“But he, Vulcanian monster, to the clouds

The fiercest, hottest inundations throws,

While, with the burthen of incumbent woods,

And Etna’s gloomy cliffs o’erwhelmed he glows.

There on his flinty bed outstretch’d he lies,

Whose pointed rock his tossing carcass wounds;

There with dismay he strikes beholding eyes,

Or frights the distant ear with horrid sounds.”—West.

Mount Etna, one of the most majestic of all the volcanoes, which the ancients considered as one of the highest mountains in the world, and on the summit of which they believed that Deucalion and Pyrrha sought refuge, to save themselves from the universal deluge, is situated on the plain of Catania, in Sicily.

Its elevation above the level of the sea has been estimated at ten thousand, nine hundred and sixty-three feet, or upward of two miles. On clear days it is distinctly seen from Valetta, the capital of Malta, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. It is incomparably the largest burning mountain in Europe. From its sides other mountains arise, which, in different ages, have been ejected in single masses from its enormous crater. The most extensive lavas of Vesuvius do not exceed seven miles in length, while those of Etna extend to fifteen, twenty, and some even to thirty miles. The crater of Etna is seldom less than a mile in circuit, and sometimes is two orthree miles; but the circumference of the Vesuvian crater is never more than half a mile, even when widely distended, in its most destructive conflagrations. And, lastly, the earthquakes occasioned by these adjacent volcanoes, their eruptions, their showers of ignited stones, and the destruction and desolation which they create, are severally proportionate to their respective dimensions.

CRATER OF MOUNT ETNA.

A journey up Etna is considered as an enterprise of importance, as well from the difficulty of the route, as from the distance, it being thirty miles from Catania to the summit of the mountain. Its gigantic bulk, its sublime elevation, and the extensive, varied, and grand prospects which are presented from its summit, have, however, induced the curious in every age to ascend and examine it; and not a few have transmitted, through the press, the observations which they have made during their arduous journey. From its vast base it rises like a pyramid to the perpendicular hight of two miles, by an acclivity nearly equal on all sides, forming with the horizon an angle of about fifteen degrees, which becomes greater on approaching the crater; but the inclination of the steepest part of the cone nowhere exceeds an angle of forty-five degrees. This prodigious volcano may be compared to a forge, which, in proportion to the violence of the fire, to the nature of the fossil matters on which it acts, and of the gases which urge and set it inmotion, produces, destroys, and reproduces, a variety of forms; and of this, as of all active volcanoes, we may say in the language of Young,

“The dread volcano ministers to good;Its smothered flames might undermine the worldLoud Etnas fulminate in love to man.”

“The dread volcano ministers to good;

Its smothered flames might undermine the world

Loud Etnas fulminate in love to man.”

The top of Etna being above the common region of vapors, the heavens, at this elevation, appear with an unusual splendor. Brydone and his company observed, as they ascended in the night, that the number of the stars seemed to be infinitely increased, and the light of each was brighter than usual. The whiteness of the milky way was like a pure flame which spread across the heavens; and, with the naked eye, they could observe clusters of stars which were invisible from below. They likewise noticed several of those meteors called falling stars, which appeared as much elevated here as when viewed from the plain beneath.

This single mountain contains an epitome of the different climates throughout the world, presenting at once all the seasons of the year, and all the varieties of produce. It is accordingly divided into three distinct zones or regions, which may be distinguished as the torrid, temperate, and frigid, but which are known by the names of the cultivated region, the woody or temperate region, and the frigid or desert region. The former of these extends through twelve miles of the ascent toward the summit, and is almost incredibly abundant in pastures and fruit-trees of every description. It is covered with towns, villages and monasteries; and the number of inhabitants spread over its surface is estimated at one hundred and twenty thousand. In ascending to the woody or temperate region, the scene changes; it is a new climate, a new creation. Below, the heat is suffocating; but here, the air is mild and fresh. The turf is covered with aromatic plants; and the gulfs, which formerly ejected torrents of fire, are changed into woody valleys. Nothing can be more picturesque than this; the inequality of the soil displaying every moment some variety of scene: here, the ash and flowering thorns form domes of verdure; and there, the chestnut-trees grow to an enormous size. The one calledcastagno de cento cavilli, according to Brydone and Glover, has a circumference of two hundred and four feet. Many of the oaks also are of a prodigious size. Mr. Swinburne measured one which had a circumference of twenty-eight feet. The last, or desert region, commences more than a mile above the level of the sea. The lower part is covered with snow in winter only; but on the upper half of this sterile district the snows continually lie.

THE “CASTANO DE CENTO CAVILLI,” OR GREAT CHESTNUT TREE OF MOUNT ETNA.

The cone of Etna is, in a right line, about a mile in ascent. The crater is about a mile and a half in circumference; and from the inner part of this, a column of smoke constantly rises; while the liquid fiery matter may be seen rolling, rising and falling within. As to the vastness and beauty of the prospect from the summit of Etna, all writers agree that it is probably unsurpassed. M. Houel was there at sunrise, when the horizon was perfectly clear, and the coast of Calabria, as seen in the distance, appeared to the eye misty, and undistinguishable from the sea. The sky above was specked with the light floating clouds that are so often seen in that delightful climate before the rising of the sun; and in the calm silence all nature seemed waiting the coming of the orb of day. And very soon the promise thus given began to be fulfilled. In a short time a fiery radiance appeared in the east. The fleecy clouds were tinged with purple; the atmospherebecame strongly illuminated, and, reflecting the rays of the sun, seemed to be filled with a bright refulgence of flame. Although the heavens were thus enlightened, the sea still retained its dark azure, and the fields and forests did not yet reflect the rays of the sun. The gradual rising of this luminary, however, soon diffused light over the hills which lie below the peak of Etna. This last stood like an island in the midst of the ocean, with luminous points multiplying every moment around, and spreading over a wider extent with the greatest rapidity. It was, he said, as if the world had been observed suddenly to spring from the night of non-existence.

“Ere the rising sunShone o’er the deep, or ’mid the vault of nightThe moon her silver lamp suspended; ereThe vales with springs were watered, or with grovesOf oak or pine the ancient hills were crowned;Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore,Within his own deep essence viewed the forms,The forms eternal of created things:The radiant sun; the moon’s nocturnal lamp;The mountains and the streams: the ample storesOf earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first,On that full scene his love divine he fixed,His admiration. Till, in time complete,What he admired and loved, his vital powerUnfolded into being. Hence the breathOf life, informing each organic frame;Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves;Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold;And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers,And all the fair variety of things.”—Akenside.

“Ere the rising sun

Shone o’er the deep, or ’mid the vault of night

The moon her silver lamp suspended; ere

The vales with springs were watered, or with groves

Of oak or pine the ancient hills were crowned;

Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore,

Within his own deep essence viewed the forms,

The forms eternal of created things:

The radiant sun; the moon’s nocturnal lamp;

The mountains and the streams: the ample stores

Of earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first,

On that full scene his love divine he fixed,

His admiration. Till, in time complete,

What he admired and loved, his vital power

Unfolded into being. Hence the breath

Of life, informing each organic frame;

Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves;

Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold;

And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers,

And all the fair variety of things.”—Akenside.

The most sublime object, however, which the summit of Etna presents, is the immense mass of its own colossal body. Its upper region exhibits rough and craggy cliffs, rising perpendicularly, fearful to the view, and surrounded by an assemblage of fugitive clouds, to increase the wild variety of the scene. Amid the multitude of woods in the middle or temperate region, are numerous mountains, which, in any other situation, would appear of a gigantic size, but which, compared to Etna, are mere mole-hills. Lastly, the eye contemplates with admiration the lower region, the most extensive of the three, adorned with elegant villas and castles, verdant hills and flowery fields, and terminated by the extensive coast, where to the south stands the beautiful city of Catania, to which the waves of the neighboring sea serve as a mirror.

Etna has been celebrated as a volcano from the remotest antiquity.Eruptions are recorded by Diodorus Siculus, as having happened five hundred years before the Trojan war, or sixteen hundred and ninety-three years before the Christian era.

“Etna roars with dreadful ruins nigh,Now hurls a bursting cloud of cinders high,Involved in smoky whirlwinds to the sky;With loud displosion to the starry frame,Shoots fiery globes, and furious floods of flame:Now from her bellowing caverns burst awayVast piles of melted rocks in open day.Her shattered entrails wide the mountain throws,And deep as hell her flaming center glows.”—Warton.

“Etna roars with dreadful ruins nigh,

Now hurls a bursting cloud of cinders high,

Involved in smoky whirlwinds to the sky;

With loud displosion to the starry frame,

Shoots fiery globes, and furious floods of flame:

Now from her bellowing caverns burst away

Vast piles of melted rocks in open day.

Her shattered entrails wide the mountain throws,

And deep as hell her flaming center glows.”—Warton.

In 1669, the torrent of burning lava inundated a space fourteen miles in length, and four in breadth, burying beneath it part of Catania, till at length it precipitated itself into the sea. For several months before the lava broke out, the old mouth, or great crater of the summit, was observed to send forth much smoke and flame, and the top had fallen in, so that the mountain was much lowered.

Eighteen days before, the sky was very thick and dark, with thunder, lightning, frequent concussions of the earth, and dreadful subterraneous bellowings. On the eleventh of March, about sunset, an immense gulf opened in the mountain, into which when stones were thrown, they could not be heard to strike the bottom. Ignited rocks, fifteen feet in length, were hurled to the distance of a mile; while others of a smaller size were carried three miles. During the night, the red-hot lava burst out of a vineyard twenty miles below the great crater, and ascended into the air to a considerable hight. In its course, it destroyed five thousand habitations, and filled up a lake several fathoms deep. It shortly after reached Catania, rose over the walls, whence it ran for a considerable length into the sea, forming a safe and beautiful harbor, which was, however, soon filled up by a similar torrent of inflamed matter. This is the stream, the hideous deformity of which, devoid of vegetation, still disfigures the south and western borders of Catania, and on which part of the noble modern city is built.

The showers of scoriæ and sand which, after a lapse of two days, followed this eruption, formed a mountain called Monte Rosso, having a base of about two miles, and a perpendicular hight of seven hundred and fifty feet. On the twenty-fifth, the whole mountain, even to the most elevated peak, was agitated by a tremendous earthquake. The highest crater of Etna, which was one of the loftiest parts of the mountain, then sunk into thevolcanic gulf, and in the place which it had occupied, there now appeared nothing but a wide gulf, more than a mile in extent, from which issued enormous quantities of smoke, ashes and stones.

In 1809, twelve new craters opened about half-way down the mountain, and threw out rivers of burning lava, by which several estates were covered to the depth of thirty or forty feet; and during three or four successive nights, a very large river of red-hot lava was distinctly seen, in its whole extent, running down from the mountain.

In 1811, several mouths opened on the eastern side of the mountain: being nearly in the same line, and at equal distances, they presented to the view a striking spectacle; torrents of burning matter, discharged with the greatest force from the interior of the volcano, illuminated the horizon to a great extent. An immense quantity of matter, which was driven to considerable distances, was discharged from these apertures, the largest of which continued for several months to emit torrents of fire. Even at the time when it had the appearance of being choked, there suddenly issued from it clouds of ashes, which descended, in the form of rain, on the city of Catania and its environs, as well as on the fields situated at a very considerable distance. A roaring, resembling that of a sea in the midst of a tempest, was heard to proceed from the interior of the mountain; and this sound, accompanied from time to time by dreadful explosions, resembling thunder, reëchoed through the valleys, and spread terror on every side.

“The fluid lake that works below,Bitumen, sulphur, salt, and iron scum,Heaves up its boiling tide. The lab’ring mountIs torn with agonizing throes. At once,Forth from its sides disparted, blazing poursA mighty river; burning in prone waves,That glimmer through the night, to yonder plain.Divided there, a hundred torrent streams,Each plowing up its bed, roll dreadful on,Resistless. Villages, and woods, and rocks,Fall flat before their sweep. The region round,Where myrtle-walks and groves of golden fruitRose fair; where harvest wav’d in all its pride;And where the vineyard spread its purple store,Maturing into nectar; now despoiledOf herb, leaf, fruit and flower, from end to endLies buried under fire, a glowing sea!”—Mallet.

“The fluid lake that works below,

Bitumen, sulphur, salt, and iron scum,

Heaves up its boiling tide. The lab’ring mount

Is torn with agonizing throes. At once,

Forth from its sides disparted, blazing pours

A mighty river; burning in prone waves,

That glimmer through the night, to yonder plain.

Divided there, a hundred torrent streams,

Each plowing up its bed, roll dreadful on,

Resistless. Villages, and woods, and rocks,

Fall flat before their sweep. The region round,

Where myrtle-walks and groves of golden fruit

Rose fair; where harvest wav’d in all its pride;

And where the vineyard spread its purple store,

Maturing into nectar; now despoiled

Of herb, leaf, fruit and flower, from end to end

Lies buried under fire, a glowing sea!”—Mallet.

This celebrated volcano, which has for so many ages attracted the attention of mankind, and the desolating eruptions of which have been so oftenand so fatally experienced, is distant, in an eastern direction, about seven miles from Naples. It rises, insulated, upon a vast and well cultivated plain, presenting two summits on the same base, in which particular it resembles Mount Parnassus. One of these, La Somma, is generally agreed to have been the Vesuvius of Strabo and the ancients; the other, having the greatest elevation, is the mouth of the volcano, which almost constantly emits smoke. Its hight above the level of the sea, is thirty-nine hundred feet, and it may be ascended by three different routes, which are all very steep and difficult, from the conical form of the mountain, and the loose ashes which slip from under the feet: still, from the base to the summit, the distance is not more than three Italian miles. The circumference of the platform on the top, is five thousand and twenty-four feet, or nearly a mile. Thence may be seen Portici, Capræa, Ischia, Pausilippo, and the whole coast of the gulf of Naples, bordered with orange-trees: the prospect is that of Paradise seen from the infernal regions.

MOUNT VESUVIUS.

On approaching the mountain, its aspect does not convey any impression of terror, nor is it gloomy, being cultivated for more than two-thirds of its hight, and having its brown top alone barren. There all verdure ceases; yet, when it appears covered with clouds, which sometimes encompass its middle only, this circumstance rather adds to than detracts from the magnificence of the spectacle. Upon the lavas which the volcano long ago ejected, and which, like great furrows, extend into the plain and to the sea, are built houses, villages and towns. Gardens, vineyards and cultivated fields surround them; but a sentiment of sorrow, blended with apprehensionsabout the future, arises on the recollection that, beneath a soil so fruitful and so smiling, lie edifices, gardens and whole towns swallowed up. Portici rests upon Herculaneum; its environs upon Resina; and at a little distance is Pompeii, in the streets of which, after more than seventeen centuries of non-existence, the astonished traveler now walks. After a long interval of repose, in the first year of the reign of Titus, (the seventy-ninth of the Christian era,) the volcano suddenly broke out, ejecting thick clouds of ashes and pumice-stones, beneath which Herculaneum, Stabia and Pompeii were completely buried. This eruption was fatal to the elder Pliny, the historian, who fell a victim to his humanity and love of science. Even at this day, in speaking of Vesuvius, the remembrance of his untimely death excites a melancholy regret. All the coast to the east of the gulf of Naples was, on the above occasion, ravaged and destroyed, presenting nothing but a long succession of ejected matters from Herculaneum to Stabia. The destruction did not extend to the western part, but stopped at Naples, which suffered comparatively little.

Thirty-eight eruptions of Vesuvius are recorded in history up to the year 1806. That of 1779, has been described by Sir William Hamilton, as among the most remarkable, from its extraordinary and terrific appearance. During the whole of July, the mountain was in a state of considerable fermentation, subterraneous explosions and rumbling noises being heard, and quantities of smoke thrown up with great violence, sometimes with red-hot stones, scoriæ, and ashes. On the fifth of August, the volcano was greatly agitated, a white sulphurous smoke, apparently four times the hight and size of the volcano itself, issuing from the crater, at the same time that vast quantities of stones, &c., were thrown up to the supposed hight of two thousand feet. The liquid lava, having cleared the rim of the crater, flowed down the sides of the mountain to the distance of four miles. The air was darkened by showers of reddish ashes, blended with long filaments of a vitrified matter resembling glass.

On the seventh, at midnight, a fountain of fire shot up from the crater to an incredible hight, casting so bright a light, that the smallest objects were clearly distinguishable at any place within six miles of the volcano. On the following evening, after a tremendous explosion, which broke the windows of the houses at Portici, another fountain of liquid fire rose to the surprising hight of ten thousand feet, (nearly two miles,) while puffs of the blackest smoke accompanied the red-hot lava, interrupting its splendid brightness here and there by patches of the darkest hue. The lava was partly directed by the wind toward Ottaiano, on which so thick a shower of ashes, blended with vast pieces of scoriæ, fell, that had it been of longer continuance, thattown would have shared the fate of Pompeii. It took fire in several places; and had there been much wind, the inhabitants would have been burned in their houses, it being impossible for them to stir out. To add to the horror of the scene, incessant volcanic lightning darted through the black cloud that surrounded them, while the sulphureous smell and heat would scarcely allow them to draw their breath. In this dreadful state they remained nearly half an hour. The remaining part of the lava, still red-hot and liquid, fell on the top of Vesuvius, and covered its whole cone, together with that of La Somma, and the valley between them, thus forming one complete body of fire, which could not be less than two miles and a half in breadth, and casting a heat to the distance of at least six miles around.

The eruption of 1794 is accurately described by the above writer; but has not an equal degree of interest with the one cited above. We subjoin a few particulars, among which is a circumstance well deserving notice, as it leads to an estimate of the degree of heat in volcanoes. Sir William says that although the town of Torre del Greco was instantly surrounded with red-hot lava, the inhabitants saved themselves by coming out of the tops of their houses on the following day. It is evident, observes Mr. Kirwan, that if this lava had been hot enough to melt even the most fusible stones, these persons must have been suffocated.

This eruption happened on the fifteenth of June, at ten o’clock at night, and was announced by a shock of an earthquake, which was distinctly felt at Naples. At the same moment a fountain of bright fire, attended with a very black smoke and a loud report, was seen to issue, and rise to a considerable hight, from about the middle of the cone of Vesuvius. It was hastily succeeded by other fountains, fifteen of which were counted, all in a direct line, tending for the space of about a mile and a half downward, toward the towns of Resina and Torre del Greco. This fiery scene, this great operation of nature, was accompanied by the loudest thunder, the incessant reports of which, like those of a numerous heavy artillery, were attended by a continued hollow murmur, similar to that of the roaring of the ocean during a violent storm. Another blowing noise resembled that of the ascent of a large flight of rockets. The houses at Naples were for several hours in a constant tremor, the doors and windows shaking and rattling incessantly, and the bells ringing. At this awful moment the sky, from a bright full moon and starlight, became obscured; the moon seemed eclipsed, and was soon lost in obscurity. The murmur of the prayers and lamentations of a numerous population, forming various processions, and parading the streets, added to the horrors of the scene.

On the following day a new mouth was opened on the opposite side of themountain, facing the town of Ottaiano: from this aperture a considerable stream of lava issued, and ran with great velocity through a wood, which it burnt; but it stopped, after having run about three miles in a few hours, before it reached the vineyards and cultivated lands. The lava which had flowed from several new mouths on the south side of the mountain, reached the sea into which it ran, after having overwhelmed, burnt and destroyed the greater part of Torre del Greco, through the center of which it took its course. This town contained about eighteen thousand inhabitants, all of whom escaped, with the exception of about fifteen, who through age or infirmity, were overwhelmed in their houses by the lava. Its rapid progress was such, that their goods and effects were entirely abandoned.

It was ascertained some time after, that a considerable part of the crater had fallen in, so as to have given a great extension to the mouth of Vesuvius, which was conjectured to be nearly two miles in circumference. This sinking of the crater was chiefly on the west side, opposite Naples, and, in all probability, occurred early in the morning of the eighteenth, when a violent shock of an earthquake was felt at Resina, and other places situated at the foot of the volcano. The clouds of smoke which issued from the now widely extended mouth of Vesuvius, were of such a density as to appear to force their passage with the utmost difficulty. One cloud heaped itself on another, and, succeeding each other incessantly, they formed in a few hours such a gigantic and elevated column, of the darkest hue, over the mountain, as seemed to threaten Naples with immediate destruction, it having at one time been bent over the city, and appearing to be much too massive and ponderous to remain long suspended in the air.

From the above time, till 1804, Vesuvius remained in a state of almost constant tranquillity. Symptoms of a fresh eruption had manifested themselves for several months, when at length on the night of the eleventh of August, a deep roaring was heard at the hermitage of Salvador, and the places adjacent to the mountain, accompanied by shocks of an earthquake, which were sensibly felt at Resina. On the following morning, at noon, a thick black smoke rose from the mouth of the crater, which, dilating prodigiously, covered the whole volcano. In the evening, loud explosions were heard; and at Naples a column of fire was seen to rise from the aperture, carrying up stones in a state of complete ignition, which fell again into the crater. The noise by which these igneous explosions were accompanied, resembled the roaring of the most dreadful tempest and the whistling of the most furious winds; while the celerity with which the substances were ejected was such, that the first emission had not terminated when it was succeeded by a second. Small monticules were at this timeformed of a fluid matter, resembling a vitreous paste of a red color, which flowed from the mouth of the crater; and these became more considerable in proportion as the matter accumulated.

In this state the eruption continued for several days, the fire being equally intense, with frequent and dreadful noises. On the twenty-eighth, amid these fearful symptoms, another aperture, ejecting fire and stones, situated behind the crater, was seen from Naples. The burning mass of lava which escaped from the crater on the following day, was distinguished from Torre del Greco, having the appearance of a vitreous fluid, and advancing toward the base of the mountain between the south and south-west. It reached the base on the thirtieth, having flowed from the aperture, in less than twenty-four hours, a distance of three thousand and fifty-three feet, while its mean breadth appeared to be about three hundred and fifty, but at the base, eight hundred and sixty feet. In its course it divided into four branches, and finally reached a spot called the Guide’s Retreat. Its entire progress to this point was more than a mile, so that, taking a mean proportion, this lava flowed at the rate ofeightyeighty-six feet an hour.

At the time of this eruption, Kotzebue was at Naples. Vesuvius lay opposite to his window, and when it was dark he could clearly perceive in what manner the masses of fire rolled down the mountain. As long as any glimmering of light remained, that part of the mountain was to be seen on the declivity of which the lava formed a straight but oblique line. As soon, however, as it was perfectly dark, and the mountain itself had vanished from the eye, it seemed as if a comet with a long tail stood in the sky. The spectacle was awful and grand!

Kotzebue ascended the mountain on the morning succeeding the opening of a new gulf, and approached the crater as nearly as prudence would allow. From its center ascended the sulphurous yellow cone which the eruption of this year had formed: on the other side, a thick smoke perpetually arose from the abyss opened during the preceding night. The side of the crater opposite to him, which rose considerably higher than that on which he stood, afforded a singular aspect; for it was covered with little pillars of smoke, which burst forth from it, and had some resemblance to extinguished lights. The air over the crater was actually embodied, and was clearly to be seen in a tremulous motion. Below, the volcano boiled and roared dreadfully, like the most violent hurricane; but occasionally a sudden deadly stillness ensued for some moments, after which the roaring renewed with double vehemence, and the smoke burst forth in thicker and blacker clouds. It was, he observes, as if the spirit of the mountain had suddenly tried to stop the gulf, while the flames indignantly refused to endure the confinement.

It is remarkable, that the great eruption of 1805, happened on the twelfth of August, within a day of that of the preceding year. Subterraneous noises had been previously heard, and a general apprehension of some violent commotion prevailing, the inhabitants of Torre del Greco and Annunciada had left their homes, through the apprehension of a shower of fire and ashes, similar to that which buried Pompeii. The stream of lava took the same course with that of 1794, described above, one of the arms following the direction of the great road, and rolling toward the sea. The stream soon divided again, and spreading itself with an increased celerity, swept away many houses and the finest plantations. The other branch, at first, took the direction of Portici, which was threatened; but turning, and joining the preceding one, formed a sort of islet of boiling lava in the middle, both ending in the sea, and composing a promontory of volcanic matters. In the space of twenty minutes the whole extent of ground which the lava occupied was on fire, offering a terrible yet singular spectacle, as the burning trees presented the aspect of white flames, in contrast with those of the volcanic matters, which were red. The lava swept along with it enormous masses of whatever occurred in its course, and, on its reaching the sea, nothing was to be seen or heard for a great extent of shore, beside the boiling and hissing arising from the conflict of the water and fire.

It remains now to introduce a slight notice of the eruption of 1806, which, without any sensible indication, took place on the evening of the thirty-first of May, when a bright flame rose from the mountain to the hight of about six hundred feet, sinking and rising alternately, and affording so clear a light, that a letter might have been read at the distance of a league around the mountain. On the following morning, without any earthquake preceding, as had been customary, the volcano began to eject inflamed substances from three new mouths, pretty near to each other, and about six hundred and fifty feet from the summit. The lava took the direction of Torre del Greco and Annunciada, approaching Portici, on the road leading from Naples to Pompeii. Throughout the whole of the second of June, a noise was heard, resembling that of two armies engaged, when the discharges of artillery and musketry are very brisk. The current of lava now resembled a wall of glass in a state of fusion, sparks and flashes issuing from it from time to time, with a powerful detonation. Vines, trees, houses—whatever objects, in short, it encountered on its way, were instantly overthrown or destroyed. In one part, where it met with the resistance of a wall, it formed a cascade of fire. In a few days Portici, Resina, and Torre del Greco, were covered with ashes thrown out by the volcano; and on the ninth, the two former places were deluged with a thick black rain, consistingof a species of mud filled with sulphurous particles. On the first of July, the ancient crater had whollydisappeareddisappeared, being filled with ashes and lava, and a new one was formed in the eastern part of the mountain, about six hundred feet in depth, and having about the same width at the opening. Several persons, on the above day, descended about half-way down this new mouth, and remained half an hour very near the flames, admiring the spectacle presented by the liquid lava, which bubbled up at the bottom of the crater, like the fused matter in a glass-house. This eruption continued until September, made great ravages, and was considered as one of the most terrible that had occurred in the memory of the inhabitants.

Back to Index Next