Part 50
At an inconsiderable distance is another basaltine hill, called _Il monte del Diavolo_, or the Devil’s hill, along the sides of which prismatic columns are arranged in an oblique position. This causeway extends along the side of the vale beneath, with nearly the same arrangement of the columns as is displayed on the hill. Although the columns of both these hills are of the simple, or unjointed kind, still they differ very remarkably from each other in many respects, but principally in their forms, and in the texture and quality of their parts. Those of the Monte del Diavolo commonly approach a circular form, as nearly as their angles will allow; which is also observable in the columns of the Giant’s Causeway and of most other basaltic groups. On the contrary, those of Monte Rosso assume an oblong or oval figure. The columns of the former measure, one with the other, nearly a foot in diameter, varying but little in their size; while those of the latter present a great variety in their dimensions, the diameter of some of them being nearly a foot, and that of others scarcely three inches: their common width may be estimated at six or eight inches. They differ, therefore, very considerably in size from those of the Giant’s Causeway, some of which measure two feet in width. The length of the columns of the Monte del Diavolo can not be ascertained, as they present only their summits to the view: their remaining parts are deeply buried in the hill, and in some places entirely covered. Those of Monte Rosso, as far as they are visible, measure from six to eight or ten feet in hight; an inconsiderable size when compared with the hight of those of the Giant’s Causeway. The columns of these groups display, however, all the varieties of prismatic forms, which are observable in those of the latter, and other similar groups. They are usually of five, six or seven sides; but the hexagonal form seems chiefly to prevail.
The texture and quality of these columns are not less different than their forms. Those of the Monte del Diavolo present a smooth surface, and, when broken, appear within of a dark iron-gray color, manifesting also a very solid and uniform texture; in which characters they correspond with the columns of the Giant’s Causeway, and those of most other basaltic groups. But the columns of Monte Rosso are in these respects very different, having not only a very rough (and sometimes knotty) surface, but displaying likewise, when broken, a variegated color and unequal texture of parts. They are commonly speckled, more or less distinctly, and resemble an inferior sort of granite, of which Monte Rosso is itself formed, and which serves as a base to the range of columns in question. It is, in general, not quite so hard as the alpine and oriental granites, and is sometimes even friable. This species of granite abounds in France, where large tracts of it are to be seen in Auvergne, and the adjoining regions. But it is still more common in Italy, seeing that, besides Monte Rosso, the bulk of the Euganean hills, of which that is a part, principally consists of it; and these hills occupy a considerable tract in the plains of Lombardy. It is also common in the Roman and Tuscan states; and of this substance the mountain close to Viterbo, on the road to Rome, is entirely composed. The columns of Monte Rosso appear, therefore, of a different character from any hitherto described by mineralogists, who mention those only of an uniform color and texture. But the great singularity here is, that such a range of prismatic columns should be found, bedded as it were, in a mass of granite, and composed nearly of the same substance. An instance of this kind, relative to any other causeway, is not recorded; and this circumstance seems to render that of Monte Rosso, in one respect at least, more curious and singular than the celebrated Giant’s Causeway is known to be, from the regular articulation of its columns. It is certain, that the basaltic group of Monte Rosso is not only highly curious in itself, but interesting on account of the great light it throws on the origin of granites in general.
It is likewise remarkable, that the columns in the two groups of Monte Rosso and Monte del Diavolo, preserve respectively the same position, nearly parallel to each other; which is not usually the case in basaltic groups. For, although the principal aggregate of which the Giant’s Causeway is formed, stands in a direction perpendicular to the horizon, still other small detached groups of columns also appear on the eminence above, assuming by their position different degrees of obliquity. Among the numerous basaltic hills of Auvergne and the adjoining regions, in France, phenomena which seem to abound in those provinces more than in any other part of Europe, and, perhaps, of the known globe, nothing is more common than to see the columns of the same group lying in all possible directions, as irregularly almost as the prisms in a mass of common crystal. Nor is this variety of position so observable in single columns as in whole masses or ranges of them, that often present themselves on the same hill, disposed in different strata or stages, as it were, one above the other, many of them assuming very different, and even opposite directions. The columns of the Monte del Diavolo are bedded in a kind of volcanic sand, by which, in many parts of the hill, they are entirely covered: it is probable, however, that they repose beneath on a base of basaltic rock of a similar nature. Nothing is more common, in the provinces of France, above mentioned, than to see insulated basaltic hills almost exclusively composed of different layers of columns, which present themselves in stages, one above the other, often without any other stratum between them, resembling in some measure, if the comparison can be allowed, a huge pile or stack of cleft wood. Although the columnar crystallization of Monte Rosso is the only one yet known or described, in a mass of granite, still other groups of columns have elsewhere been met with, which are equally of a heterogeneous substance or texture, however they may otherwise differ from those of Monte Rosso, as well as from the common basalts.
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NATURAL BRIDGES.
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NATURAL BRIDGES OF ICONONZO.
Amid the majestic and varied scenery of the Cordilleras of South America, that of their valleys most forcibly strikes the imagination of foreign travelers. The enormous hight of these mountains is not discoverable but at a considerable distance, and while the spectator is on one of those plains which extend from the sea-coasts to the foot of the central chain. The flats, or table-lands, which surround the snow-clad summits of the mountains, are themselves, for the greater part, of an elevation of from seven to nine thousand feet, or nearly a mile and three-quarters, above the level of the sea. This circumstance diminishes, to a certain degree, the impression of greatness produced by the colossal masses of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, Pichincha, &c., when seen from the flats of Riobamba, or from those of Quito. It is not, however, with the valleys as with the mountains: deeper and narrower than those of the Alps and the Pyrenees, the valleys of the Cordilleras present situations still more wild than these, and more adapted to fill the soul with admiration and with terror. Fissures and chasms present themselves, having their bottoms and sides ornamented with a vigorous vegetation, and of such a depth, that Vesuvius and the Puy-de-Dome might be placed within several of them, and not show their summits above the edge of the neighboring mountains. In passing along the back of the Andes, from Pasto to Villa d’Ibarra, and in descending the Loxa toward the banks of the river Amazon, the traveler reaches the celebrated fissures of Chota and Cutaco, the former of which is nearly a mile, and the latter upward of three-quarters of a mile, in perpendicular depth. To give a more complete idea of the grandeur of these geological phenomena, it should be observed, that the bottoms of these fissures are by one-fourth only, less elevated above the level of the sea, than the passages of St. Gothard and Mount Cenis.
The valley of Icononzo, or of Pandi, is less remarkable for its dimensions, than for the extraordinary form of its rocks, which appear as if shaped by the hand of man. Their naked and barren summits form the most picturesque contrasts with the tufts of trees and herbaceous vegetables which cover the edges of the fissure. The little torrent which has worked itself a passage through the valley of Icononzo, bears the name of Rio de la Summa Paz. It descends from the eastern chain of the Andes, which, with the republic of New Grenada, separates the basin of the river of Magdelena from the vast plains of the Meta, Guaviare and Oronoco. This torrent, confined within a bed almost inaccessible, could not have been crossed without many difficulties, had not Nature herself formed TWO BRIDGES OF ROCKS, which are justly regarded in the country as among the objects most worthy of the attention of travelers. These NATURAL BRIDGES are on the route from Bogota to Popayan and Quito.
Icononzo is the name of an ancient village of Muyscas Indians, situated on the south side of the valley, and of which scarcely any vestige now remains, except a few scattered huts. The nearest inhabited place to this remarkable spot is the little village of Pandi, or Mercadillo, distant about a mile. The road from Bogota to Fusagasuga, and thence to Pandi, is one of the most difficult and least beaten to be met with in the Andes. None but those who passionately love the beauties of Nature, would fail to prefer the usual road which leads from the flat of Bogota to the banks of the Magdelena, to the perilous descent from the Paramo de San-Fortunato, and the mountains of Fusagasuga, toward the natural bridges of Icononzo.
The deep chasm through which the torrent of Summa Paz precipitates itself, occupies the center of the valley of Icononzo. Near the first natural bridge, it maintains, for a length of nearly four-fifths of a mile, a direction from east to west. The river forms two fine cascades, the one at the spot where it enters the chasm on the west of Doa, and the other at that where it leaves it, in descending toward Melgar. It is possible that this chasm, which resembles, but on an enormous scale, the gallery of a mine, may have been the result of an earthquake, and that, at its formation, the compact bed of quartz, composing the superior stratum of rock, had resisted the force which tore asunder these mountains. The uninterrupted continuation of this quartzose bed would thus form the bridge, which affords a passage from one part of the valley to the other. This surprising natural arch is forty-eight feet in length, forty in width, and eight feet in thickness at the center. By experiments carefully made on the fall of bodies, its hight above the level of the water of the torrent, has been ascertained to be about three hundred and twenty feet. The depth of the torrent at the mean hight of the water, may be estimated at twenty feet. The Indians of the valley of Icononzo, for the security of travelers, have formed a fence of reeds, which extends to the road leading to this first natural bridge.
At the distance of sixty feet below is another, to which the traveler is conducted by a path descending along the edge of the chasm. Three enormous masses of rock have fallen into such positions as enable them reciprocally to support each other. The one in the center forms the key of the vault, an accident which may have conveyed to the natives of this spot an idea of arched masonry, which was unknown to the people of the new world, as well as to the ancient inhabitants of Egypt. It is uncertain whether these portions of rock have been projected from a distance, or are merely the fragments of an arch which has been destroyed on the spot, but which was originally similar to the upper natural bridge. This last supposition is rendered probable by an analogous accident, observable in the Coliseum at Rome, where there are seen, in a wall half-fallen, several stones which were arrested in their descent, because in falling they happened to form an arch. In the midst of this second natural bridge is an aperture of about twenty-five feet in every direction, through which the eye reaches the bottom of the abyss. The torrent appears to run into a dark cavern, whence a mournful sound proceeds, formed by the cries of an infinity of nocturnal birds which inhabit the chasm, and which at first sight may be taken for those bats of a monstrous size, so well known in the equinoctial regions. They can only be perceived by the help of lighted brands, thrown into the chasm to illuminate its sides; and thousands of them may thus be distinguished, skimming along the surface of the water. Their plumage is uniformly of a brown gray color; and M. Humboldt, from whose account these particulars are extracted, was assured by the Indians, that these hitherto undescribed birds are of the size of a chicken, with the eyes of an owl, and a curved beak. On account of the depth of the valley, it was impossible to obtain a near view of them.
The elevation of the bridges of Icononzo, these surprising productions of nature, above the level of the ocean, is two thousand seven hundred feet, somewhat more than half a mile. In concluding his description of them, M. Humboldt has noticed several other natural bridges, among which is that in Virginia, noticed more particularly below. He considers this, as well as the bridge of earth, called Rumichaca, which is on the declivity of the porphyritic mountains of Chumban, in South America; together with the bridge of Madre de Dios, named Dantcu, near Totonilco, in Mexico; and the perforated rock near Grandola, in the province of Alemtejo, in Portugal, as geological phenomena, which have some resemblance to the natural bridges of Icononzo; but he doubts whether, in any other part of the world, there has yet been discovered an accidental arrangement so extraordinary as that of three masses of rock, which, reciprocally sustaining each other, form a natural arch.
NATURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA.
This natural bridge, which has been described by Mr. Jefferson, and many other writers, is one of the most sublime productions of nature, as well as one of the great curiosities and wonders of the world. It is situated in Rockbridge county, in Virginia, on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through its length by some mighty convulsion. It consists of a stupendous arch of limestone, spanning a small stream, called Cedar creek. Its hight above the stream to the top, is two hundred and fifteen feet; its average width, eighty feet; its extreme length at the top, ninety-three feet; and its thickness, from the under to the upper side, fifty-five feet. The chasm over which it passes, is fifty feet wide at the bottom, and ninety feet at the top. The view from the top is exceedingly grand and impressive; from below, equally sublime and more interesting, because divested of associations of fear. The bridge is of important use, forming a road over this immense chasm, which is not otherwise passable for several miles in either direction. The top of the bridge is covered with a coat of earth, which affords growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is a solid rock of limestone. The arch, as is seen in the engraving of the bridge, approaches the semi-elliptical form; though the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than its transverse. Although the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of rocks, yet few persons have sufficient resolution to stand on them, and look over into the abyss. The passenger involuntarily falls on his hands, creeps to the parapet and peeps over it. Looking down from this hight, for the space of a minute, occasions giddiness and sometimes headache. But if the view from above be so painful as not long to be borne, that from beneath is delightful in the extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising from the sublime, to be felt in a greater degree than at this spot. The sensations of the spectator can not be described, when he surveys an arch at once so beautiful, so elevated, and so light, springing up, as it were, to heaven!
[Illustration]
This grand natural bridge, as already mentioned, is of limestone; and this is so soft that it may easily be cut with a knife. In this fact there may be a foundation for the following interesting, though somewhat overdrawn sketch, from the graphic pen of Elihu Burritt, designed to illustrate the effect of perseverance and an honorable ambition.
“The scene opens with a view of the great natural bridge in Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the channel below, looking up with awe to that vast arch of unhewn rocks, which the Almighty bridged over those everlasting butments ‘when the morning stars sang together.’ The little piece of sky spanning those measureless piers, is full of stars, although it is midday. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key-rock of that vast arch, which appears to them only of the size of a man’s hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel. The sun is darkened, and the boys have unconsciously uncovered their heads, as if standing in the presence-chamber of the Majesty of the whole earth. At last, this feeling begins to wear away; they look around, and find that others have been there before them. They see the names of hundreds cut in the limestone butments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts, and their knives are in their hands in an instant. ‘What man has done, man can do,’ is their watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a hundred full-grown men who have been there before them. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion, except _one_, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth, that there is _no royal road to intellectual eminence_. This ambitious youth sees a name just above his reach, a name that will be green in the memory of the world, when those of Alexander, Cæsar, and Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was the name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to that fatal field, _he_ had been there, and left his name a foot above all his predecessors. It was a glorious thought of the boy, to write his name side by side with that of the great father of his country. He grasps his knife with a firmer hand; and, clinging to a little jutting crag, he cuts again into the limestone, about a foot above where he stands; he then reaches up and cuts another for his hands. ’Tis a dangerous adventure; but as he puts his feet and hands into those gains, and draws himself up carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every name chronicled in that mighty wall. While his companions are regarding him with concern and admiration, he cuts his name in rude capitals, large and deep, into that rocky album. His knife is in his hand, and strength in his sinews, and a new created aspiration in his heart. Again he cuts another niche, and again he carves his name in larger capitals. This is not enough. Heedless of the entreaties of his companions, he cuts and climbs again. The graduations of his ascending scale grow wider apart. He measures his length at every gain he cuts. The voices of his friends wax weaker and weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. He now for the first time casts a look beneath him. Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been his last. He clings with a convulsive shudder to his little niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint with severe exertion, and trembling from the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions below. What a moment! What a meager chance to escape destruction! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche with his feet, and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that ‘freeze their young blood.’ He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon his father’s hearth-stone.