Part 2

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.

PICHINCHA.

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.

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. Every crevice 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.

MOUNT ETNA.

“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 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 or three 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.

[Illustration: 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 in motion, 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 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 called =castagno 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.

[Illustration: THE “CASTAGNO 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 atmosphere became 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 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 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 the volcanic 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.

MOUNT VESUVIUS.

“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 often and 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.

[Illustration: 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 apprehensions about 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.