Chapter 12 of 94 · 3840 words · ~19 min read

Part 12

The present crater has burned for more than a century, without any apparent change having taken place in its situation. The side from which the showers of ignited matter fall into the sea, is almost perpendicular, about half a mile broad at the bottom, and a mile in length, terminating above in a point. In rolling down, the lava raises the fine sand like a cloud of dust. While this was observed by Spallanzani, the volcano suddenly made an eruption. Numerous pieces of lava of a dark red color, and enveloped in smoke, were ejected from the top of the precipice, and thrown high into the air. A part of them fell on the declivity, and rolled down, the smaller preceded by the greater; after a few bounds, dashing into the sea, giving out a sharp hissing sound. The more minute fragments, from their lightness, and the hindrance of the sand, rolled slowly down, and striking against each other, produced nearly the same sound as hail-stones falling on a roof. In a few minutes another explosion followed, without any sensible noise; and two minutes after a third eruption took place, with a much louder explosion than the first, and a far more copious ejection of lava. The eruptions, which were almost innumerable during the time Spallanzani remained there, all exhibited the same appearances.

On the night following the one above described, the volcano raged with still greater violence, and rapidly hurled to a great hight, thousands of red-hot stones, forming diverging rays in the air. Those which rolled down the precipice, produced a hail of streaming fire, which illuminated the steep descent. Independently of these ignited stones, there was in the air which hovered over the volcano, a vivid light, which was not extinguished when that was at rest. It was not properly flame, but real light reverberated by the atmosphere, impregnated by extraneous

## particles, and more especially by the ascending smoke. Besides varying

in intensity, it appeared constantly in motion, ascending, descending, dilating and contracting, but always remaining perpendicular over the mouth of the volcano, which showed that it was occasioned by the conflagration within the crater. The detonations in the greater eruptions resembled the roaring of distant thunder, and in the lesser ones, the explosions of a mine. In the smallest they were scarcely audible. Each was some seconds later than the ejection.

Near the mouth of the volcano is a small cavern, a projection above which secures it from the entrance of the ignited stones. From this cavern Spallanzani was enabled to look down into the very bowels of the volcano. He describes the edges of the crater as of a circular form, and not more than three hundred and forty feet in circumference, the internal sides contracting as they descend, and assuming the shape of a truncated inverted cone. The crater itself, to a certain hight, is filled with a liquid red-hot matter, resembling melted brass. This is the fluid lava, which appears to be agitated by two distinct motions, the one intestine, whirling and tumultuous, and the other that by which it is impelled upward. This liquid matter is raised, sometimes with more, and sometimes with less rapidity, within the crater; and when it has reached within twenty-five or thirty feet of the upper edge, a sound is heard not unlike a short clap of thunder, while at the same moment a portion of the lava, separated into a thousand pieces, is thrown up with indescribable swiftness, accompanied by a copious eruption of smoke, ashes and sand. A few moments before the report, the superficies of the lava is inflated and covered with large bubbles, some of which are several feet in diameter; on the bursting of these the detonation and fiery shower take place. After the explosion, the lava within the crater sinks, but soon rises again as before, and new bubbles appear, which again burst and produce new explosions. When the lava sinks, it gives little or no sound; but when it rises, and particularly when it begins to be inflated with bubbles, it is accompanied by a noise similar, in proportion to the difference of magnitude, to that of liquor boiling vehemently in a caldron.

LIPARI.

This island, which has given name to the whole cluster, is deserving of notice on account of its celebrated “_stoves_.” They are the only vestiges of subterraneous conflagration now remaining, and lie to the west of the city, on the summit of a mountain of considerable elevation, called Monte della Stufe, the Mountain of Stoves. They consist of five excavations, in the form of grottos; but two of them have been abandoned on account of the great heat, an exposure to which might cause suffocation. Even the stones are so hot that they can not be touched; but still the heat varies, and experiences all the vicissitudes of volcanoes. The ground is not penetrated with hot vapors issuing from several apertures, as has been asserted. Spallanzani, however, found one from which a thin stream of smoke issued from time to time, with a strong sulphureous smell, indicating the remains of conflagration existing beneath.

It is impossible to fix the exact epoch at which the fires of Lipari were extinguished, or rather the period at which the eruptions ceased, for the existence of the former may be deduced from the hot springs and stoves. Dolomieu thinks the last eruptions are as old as the sixth century of the Christian era, and conjectures that they may have ceased since the fires found a new vent in Vulcano, since he does not entertain any doubt but that the two islands have a subterraneous communication. Of this the inhabitants of Lipari are so well convinced, that they are in the greatest agitation when Vulcano does not smoke, and when its passages are obstructed. They fear shocks and violent eruptions, suspecting even that the fires may again break out in their island. It is a fact that the earthquakes, which are very frequent, generally cease when the eruptions of Vulcano commence.

VULCANO.

This, which is the last of the Lipari isles, bears in every part the stamp of fire. It was the superstitious belief of the ancient inhabitants that Vulcan had here established his forges, there being constant fires during the night, and a thick smoke throughout the day. It consists of a mountain in the form of a truncated cone, which is, however, merely a case opening and exposing to view a second cone within, more exact than the other, and in which the mouth of the volcano is placed. The latter is thus enveloped on three sides by the ancient cone, and is open only on that side which is immediately washed by the sea.

The base of the interior cone is separated from the steep sides of the ancient crater by a circular valley, which terminates on one side at the junction of the two mountains, and on the other sinks into the sea. In this valley, light pumice-stones are blended with fragments of black, vitreous lava, and buried in ashes perfectly white. The blow of a hammer on these stones produces a loud hollow sound, which reëchoes in the neighboring caverns, and proves that the surface is nothing more than the arch of a vault covering an immense abyss. The sound varies according to the thickness of the crust, which must have considerable solidity to support the weight of the new mountain. This, according to Dolomieu, is higher and steeper than the cone which contains the crater of Etna, and its access still more difficult; its perpendicular hight, however, is not more than twenty-six hundred and forty feet, or half a mile. He represents the crater of Vulcano as the most magnificent he ever saw; and Spallanzani observes that, with the exception of that of Etna, he does not know of any more capacious and majestic. It exceeds a mile in circuit, has an oval mouth, and its greatest diameter is from the south-east to the west, while its depth is not more than a quarter of a mile. The bottom is flat, and from many places streams of smoke exhale, emitting a strong sulphureous vapor. This vast cavity is very regular, and as its entire contents are displayed to the eye, presents one of the grandest and most imposing spectacles in nature. On large stones being rolled down, the mountain reëchoes; and on their reaching the bottom, they appear to sink in fluid. Indeed, with the aid of a glass, two small lakes, supposed to be filled with melted sulphur, have been discovered. The declivity of the interior walls is so great, that, even when there is not any danger from fire, the descent is next to impossible. After considerable difficulty, however, this was accomplished by Spallanzani on the south-east side, the only one accessible. He found the bottom to be somewhat more than one-third of a mile in circumference, and of an oval form. The subterraneous noise was here much louder than on the summit, sounding like an impetuous river foaming beneath, or, rather, like a conflict of agitated waves meeting and clashing furiously together. The ground was likewise in some places perforated with apertures, from which hissing sounds issued, resembling those produced by the bellows of a furnace. It shook when pressed by the feet; and a large piece of lava, let fall five or six feet, produced a subterraneous echoing sound, which continued some time, and was loudest in the center. These circumstances, combined with its burning heat, and the strong stench of sulphur it emits, prove that the fires of the volcano are still active.

Its eruptions have been most considerable during the earthquakes which have desolated Sicily and a greater part of Italy. In the month of March, 1786, after subterraneous thunders and roarings, which were heard over all the islands, to the great terror of the inhabitants, and were accompanied by frequent concussions, the crater threw out a prodigious quantity of sand, mixed with immense volumes of smoke and fire. This eruption continued fifteen days, and so great was the quantity of sand ejected that the circumjacent places were entirely covered with it to a considerable hight. The lava did not flow at the time, at least over the edges of the crater; and indeed, such a current is not remembered by any living person.

THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. BETWEEN INDIA AND THIBET.

“The great Himalayan snowy range,” says Mr. Fraser, “is only the high elevated crest of the mountainous tract that divides the plains of Hindoostan from those of Thibet, or Lesser Tartary. Far as they predominate over, and precipitously as they rear themselves above the rest, all the hills that appear in distant ranges, when viewed from the plains, are indeed only the roots and branches of this great stem; and, however difficult to trace, the connection can always be detected between each inferior mountain and some particular member of its great origin.

“The horizontal depth of this mountainous tract, on that side which overlooks Hindoostan, is no doubt various; but, from the difficulty of the country, a traveler performs a journey of many days before he reaches the foot of the immediate snowy cliffs. The best observations and surveys do not authorize the allowance of more than an average depth of about sixty miles from the plains to the commencement of these, in that part of the country that forms the subject of this narrative. The breadth of the snowy zone itself in all probability varies still more; for huge masses advance in some places into the lower districts, and in others the crest recedes in long ravines, that are the beds of torrents, while behind they are clothed by a succession of the loftier cliffs. Every account we receive of a passage through them, (and this is no doubt found most commonly where the belt is narrowest,) gives a detail of many days’ journey through the deserts of snow and rocks; and it is to be inferred, that on the north-east side they advance to, and retreat from the low ground in an equally irregular manner. Indeed, some accounts would induce the belief, that long ranges, crowned with snow-clad peaks, project in various places from the great spine, and include habitable and milder districts; for, in all the routes of which we have accounts, that proceed, in various directions toward the Trans-Himalayan countries, hills covered with snow are occasionally mentioned as occurring, even after the great deserts are passed, and the grazing country entered. The breadth, then, of this crest of snow-clad rock itself, can not fairly be estimated at less than from seventy to eighty miles.

“The great snowy belt, although its loftiest crest is broken into numberless cliffs and ravines, nevertheless presents a barrier perfectly impracticable, except in those places where hollows that become the beds of rivers have in some degree intersected it, and facilitated approach to its more remote recesses, or courageous and attentive perseverance has here and there, discovered a dangerous and difficult path, by which a possibility exists of penetrating across the range. Few rivers hold their course wholly through it: indeed, in the upper part the Sutlej alone has been traced beyond this rocky barrier; and there is a path along its stream, from different parts of which roads diverge, that lead in various directions through the mountain. No reasonable doubt can now exist of the very long and extraordinary course which this river takes.

“Captain Webb of the Bengal establishment, was at one time employed on a survey of a province of Kumaoon. On the twenty-first day of June, his camp was eleven thousand, six hundred and eighty feet above Calcutta. The surface was covered with very rich vegetation as high as the knee; there were very extensive beds of strawberries in full flower; and plenty of currant-bushes in blossom all around, in a clear spot of rich black mold soil, surrounded by a noble forest of pine, oak and rhododendron. On the twenty-second of June he reached the top of Pilgoenta-Churhaee, (or ascent,) twelve thousand, six hundred and forty-two feet above Calcutta. He was prevented from distinguishing very distant objects by a dense fog; but there was not the smallest patch of snow near him; and the surface, a fat black mold through which the rock peeped, was covered with strawberry plants, (not yet in flower,) butter-cups, dandelions, and a profusion of other flowers. The shoulders of the hill above him, about four hundred and fifty feet more elevated, were covered with the same to the top; and above five hundred feet below was a forest of pine, rhododendron and birch. There was some snow seen below in deep hollows, but it dissolves in the course of the season. These facts led Captain Webb to infer, that the inferior limit of perpetual congelation on the Himalaya mountains is beyond thirteen thousand, five hundred feet, at least, above the level of Calcutta: and that the level of the table-land of Tartary, immediately bordering on their range, is very far elevated beyond eight thousand feet, the hight at which it has been estimated.

“On the night of the sixteenth of July, we slept at Bheemkeudar, near the source of the Coonoo and Bheem streams. There is no wood near this place, even in the very bottom of the valley, and we had left even the stunted birch at a considerable distance below; but there was a profusion of flowers, ferns, thistles, &c., and luxuriant pasturage. Captain Webb’s limit of wood is at least as high as twelve thousand to twelve thousand, three hundred feet. I would, therefore, presume the site of Bheemkeudar to be considerably above that level; say thirteen thousand to thirteen thousand, three hundred feet, above the level of Calcutta. From thence we ascended at first rather gradually, and then very rapidly, till we left all luxuriant vegetation, and entered the region of stripped and scattered and partially melting snow. From calculating the distance passed, and adverting to the elevation we had attained, I would presume that this was at least fifteen hundred feet above Bheemkeudar, or from fourteen thousand, five hundred, to fifteen thousand feet above Calcutta.

“We proceeded onward, ascending very rapidly, while vegetation decreased gradually to a mere green moss, with here and there a few snow-flowers starting through it; snow fast increasing, till at length we entered on what I presume was the perennial and unmelting snow, entirely beyond the line of vegetation, where the rock was bare even of lichens: and in this we ascended, as I think, about eight hundred feet; for, though Bamsooroo Ghat may not be so far above this line, we continued ascending, even after crossing that point, and I would incline to estimate this utmost extent of ascent at two thousand feet more, or nearly seventeen thousand feet above the level of Calcutta.

“Whilst proposing to consider the point of sixteen thousand to sixteen thousand, five hundred feet, as that of inferior congelation, I must observe that there was no feeling of _frost_ in the air, and the snow was moist, though hard, chiefly through the influence of a thick mist, which, in fact, amounted to a very small drizzling rain, which fell around: all which would seem to indicate, that the true line of congelation had not there been attained; but we were surrounded by snow which evidently never melted. To a great depth below it extended all over the hills, very little broken, while on the valleys from whence the Coonoo and Bheem streams issue, at full two thousand feet below, it lay covering them and the surrounding mountains in an unbroken mass, many hundred feet thick. Thus, though it may seem contradictory, the line of perpetual congelation, in fact seems fixable at even below the point I have ventured to indicate, and, I presume, might, on these grounds, be placed somewhere between fifteen and sixteen thousand feet above the level of Calcutta.

“The result of all the considerations that arise out of the foregoing remarks is a belief, that the loftiest peaks of the Himalaya range will be found to fall considerably short of the hight attributed to them by Mr. Colebrooke; and that their loftiest peaks do not more than range from eighteen thousand to twenty-two or twenty-three thousand feet above the level of the sea.

“Having reached the top of an ascent, we looked down upon a very deep and dark glen, called Palia Gadh, which is the outlet to the waters of one of the most terrific and gloomy valleys I have ever seen. But it would not be easy to convey by any description a just idea of the peculiarly rugged and gloomy wildness of this glen: it looks like the ruins of nature, and appears, as it is said to be, completely impracticable and impenetrable. Little is to be seen except dark rock: wood only fringes the lower parts and the waters’ edge: perhaps the spots and streaks of snow, contrasting with the general blackness of the scene, highten the appearance of desolation. No living thing is seen; no motion is visible but that of the waters; no sound is heard but their roar. Such a spot is suited to engender superstition, and here it is accordingly found in full growth. Many wild traditions are preserved, and many extravagant stories related of it.

“The glen above described, is by far the most gloomy, savage scene we have yet met with. I regret that the weather did not permit a sketch of it to be attempted. Beyond this we could see nothing in the course of the river but rocky banks. The opposite side is particularly precipitous; yet along its face a road is carried, which is frequented as much as this, and leads to villages still farther up. By the time we had reached the village, the clouds which had lowered around and sunk down on the hills, began to burst with loud thunder and heavy rain. The noise was fearfully reverberated among the hills; and during the night more than once the sound was heard of fragments from the brows of the mountains, crashing down to the depths below with a terrific din. Our quarters were good. I slept in a temple, neat, clean and secure from the weather.”

[Illustration: SOURCE OF THE JUMNA.]

GUNGOTREE, THE SOURCE OF THE JUMNA, A BRANCH OF THE GANGES, IN THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS.

Gungotree, the source of the Jumna, represented in the cut below, the most sacred branch of the Ganges, ought to hold, and does hold the first rank among its holy places. Here all is mythological ground. Here Mahadeo sits enthroned in clouds and mist, amid rocks that defy the approach of living thing, and snows that make desolation more awful. Gods, goddesses and saints here continually adore him at mysterious distance, and you traverse their familiar haunts. But, although Gungotree be the most sacred, it is not the most frequented shrine, access to it being far more difficult than to Buddrinauth; and consequently to this latter, pilgrims flock in crowds, appalled at the remoteness and danger of the former place of worship. This may pretty fully account for the superior riches and splendor of Buddrinauth. Here are temples of considerable extent, priests and officials in abundance, who preserve an imposing exterior, and an appearance venerable from power and comparative magnificence, and consequently procure rich and ample offerings to keep up their comfortable dignity.

The temple of Bhadrinath, is situated on the west bank of the Alackunda, in a valley four miles long, and one mile in its greatest breadth. The east bank rises considerably higher than the west bank, and is on a level with the top of the temple. The position of the sanctuary is considered equidistant from two lofty mountains, which are designated by the names of the Nar and the Narayena Purvatas. The former is to the east, the latter to the west, and completely covered with snow from the summit to the base.

The temple of Bhadri-Nath has more beneficed lands attached to it than any sacred Hindoo establishment in this part of India. It is said to possess seven hundred villages in different parts of Gurwhal and Kumaoon: many of them have been conferred by the government; others have been given in pledge for loans; and some few, purchased by individuals, have been presented as religious offerings.

The annual ceremony of carrying the images of their gods to wash in the sacred stream of the Jumna, is, it appears, one of much solemnity among the inhabitants of the neighborhood; and the concourse of people that here assemble, are busily engaged, and continue to be fully occupied in doing honor to it. They dance to the sound of strange music, and intoxicate themselves with a sort of vile spirit, brewed from grain and

## particular roots, sometimes, it is said, sharpened by pepper. The dance