Bayard Taylor's Description of
Vesuvius.
The Last Eruption
of Vesuvius. Naples, January 7, 1868.
The fresh wind came from the sea and lifted the
curtain, and we beheld Vesuvius again in full
activity. The smoke was blown northward, behind the
foremost peak of Monte Somma, leaving the summit of
the cone perfectly clear, and the jets of fire thrown
up from it were so brilliantly defined against a
background of pitch-dark cloud that we could see the
falling stones (from our window in Naples) with the
naked eye. By the aid of strong field-glass, the
wonderful spectacle was brought so near that all its
features can be observed.
This
is the eruption of 1872, just a few years after
the one
described by Taylor. Ths one was much more
vioent.
(photo: G. Sommer)
The top of the
cone resembled a shallow basin with chipped and
cracked edges, and the opening of the crater lay
behind it, apparently at some depth. Out of it and
around it poured a steady glow, from the stream of
lava running over the further side and descending
toward the Atrio
del Cavallo. But at intervals of not more
than half a minute, there were thrown up columnar jets
of intensest flames to a height varying from 100 to
200 feet. Volumes of smoke, dull vermillion at first,
but soon fading to a dark ash-color, rolled off the
lee-ward side of those fiery pillars, as they rose and
whirled away, broadening into the darkness. What
seemed to be pure, solid fire, as it issued from the
crater, changed into a thousand scarlet sparks, which
turned outward on all sides in a sheaf-like form, and
showered down again into and beyond the crater. I
could roughly estimate the height of the jet by the
time which the stones occupied in falling. Some of
them were evidently of enormous size.
Next day the top of
the mountain was hooded in a smoke, and for 24 hours
my observations were very fragmentary and imperfect.
But on the morning of the third the cone was again
clear, and I saw two lines of dense, white steam
rising as from fissures in the side towards Naples.
They were not fissures, however, but rivers of lava,
which had burst forth from a new crater opened a
little below the summit. Their rapid march downward
was very apparent; the guides have since said that
they reached the base of the great cone of Vesuvius in
three hours. The black promontory created by the lava
of 1858 then hid the steam from view for a time, and
provoking clouds descended upon the mountain. When the
night came, the molten streams made themselves
visible. I can only compare them to forked streaks of
lightning caught and held permanently in their place.
The color was as intensely transparent and dazzling as
that of the jets from the crater. There was a single
stream from the outlet, which parted on the shoulder
of the cone, descended in two irregular, wavy lines,
and met again just before reaching the bottom. On
either side of these veins of fire were occasional
detached sparkles, where the lava, after having
crawled for some distance under the ashes and scoriæ,
was forced again to the surface. Sometimes a stronger
flood from above made these threads visible, and
attached them to the main currents, whereupon other
and similar fountains would gush up at a little
further distance.
Having reached the
base of the great cone (a distance of about a mile,)
the lava encountered obstacles and marched more
slowly. I came upon the bed of 1858, which threw up a
great mound in front, now serving as a breakwater and
forcing the stream both to the left and right for some
distance before it can find outlets to the lower
slopes to the mountain. Late in the evening we saw the
fire appear at the top of the deep ravine which opens
below the Astronomical Observatory [sic—ed. note:
that is apparently an error; the observatory on Vesuvius
was a geological one, built for express purpose of
watching Mt. Vesuvius], but it did not seem to
advance further. The next evening we could see that it
had made considerable progress, and that a branch had
gone off to the right, toward Torre del Greco. The
left-hand branch, however, was much the
stronger, and had become threatening in its
aspect. With a glass I could observe the fall of
portions of the burning mass down the declivities of
the old lava. It seemed that a day or two more of the
same progress would bring it to the edge of the
cultivated land.
On the evening of
the 5th there appeared to be a diminution in the
outflow from the crater. The right-hand stream had
almost ceased, and nearly the whole body of lava was
pressing down the ravine partly filed by the eruption
of 1858. The weather up to this time had been so
stormy and changeable, that we had little prospects of
a remunerative ascent of the mountain. Yesterday we
went to Resina to have a nearer view, and make
inquiries of the guides. It was too late for a
deliberate trip, though Dr. Bellows set out before we
left, and two or three parties of Americans passed us
on the return to Naples.
Mounting between
gardens of orange and lemon trees, clumps of cactus,
glossy carob trees, and vineyards of Lacyrma Christi
vines, we reached the limits of the cultivated fields
in three-quarters of an hour. The entire bay of
Naples, from the Cape of Minerva to Ischia, was
constantly in sight below us. The ragged black crests
of the lava fields of 1858, which had been in sight
since leaving the suburbs of Resina, now gloomed close
at hand, and the path winding round the spur of a
mountain, struck at last across the surface.
[to
be continued]
Unfortunately,
I have been unable to find the continuation,
if, indeed, one ever appeared. (All help is
welcome!) Taylor had the good fortune (if you
can call it that) of seeing other eruptions
and describing them. In The Lands of the
Saracen; or, Pictures of Palestine, Asia
Minor, Sicily and Spain, he has a long
and magnificent description of an eruption of
Mt. Etna on Sicily. It contains startling
passages such as this one:
...At the same time, there was
terrific peal of sound, which must have shaken
the whole island. We looked up to Etna, which
was fortunately in full view before us. An
immense mass of snow-white smoke had burst up
from the crater and was rising perpendicularly
into the air, its rounded volumes rapidly
whirling one over the other. yet urged with
such impetus that they only rolled outwards
after they had ascended to an immense height.
It might have been one minute or five—for
I was so entranced by this wonderful
spectacle that I lost sense of
time—but
it seemed instantaneous (so
rapid and violent were the
effects of the explosion),
when there
stood in the air, based on
the summit of the
mountain, a mass of smoke
four or five miles high,
and shaped precisely like
the Italian pine tree.
Words cannot paint
the grandeur of this
mighty tree. Its
trunk of columned
smoke, one side of
which was silvered
by the sun, while
the other, in
shadow, was lurid
with red flame, rose
for more than a mile
before it sent out
is cloudy boughs.
Then parting into a
thousand streams,
each of which again
threw out it
branching tufts of
smoke, rolling and
waving the in the
air, it stood in
intense relief
against the dark
blue of the sky. Its
rounded masses of
foliage were
dazzlingly white on
one side, while, in
the shadowy depths
of the branches,
there was a constant
play of brown,
yellow, and crimson
tints, revealing the
central shaft of
fire. It was like
the tree celebrated
in the Scandinavian
sagas, as seen by
the mother of Harold
Hardrada—the
tree whose
roots pierced
through the
earth, whose
trunk was of
the color of
blood, and
whose branches
filled the
uttermost
corners of the
heavens...
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