Excursion up Mount Vesuvius.--The Hermitage.--Difficulty of the
ascent.--Aspect of the Crater.--An ideal resemblance of the
Entrance of the Infernal Regions.--Fit machinery for Virgil’s
epic.--Eruption of the Volcano.--Lovely panoramic view.--Descent from
the Cone.--Russian Frigate.--No Marine efficient without national
sympathy.--Battle of Navarino.
You may be surprised, that I have said so little about Vesuvius.
Notwithstanding my silence, we have not passed a day, scarcely an
hour, unless at night,--and many hours of the latter even are an
exception,--without having this beautiful mountain under our eyes. I
say beautiful, for, including its base, loaded with towns, palaces,
ruins, villages, and villas,--its sides seamed with ravines, and
occasionally smiling with verdure, or dark with forests,--and its cone
of cinders,--it forms altogether an object of great attraction. By
day, there is usually a light cloud of smoke rising from the crater,
and hovering above it; and by night, occasional flashes illumine the
sky and the mouth of the mountain in the way that the fire of a forge
brightens and sinks in the darkness. I do not think we have seen any
positive flame; but of late we have had brighter gloamings from beneath
than are usual.
The heat of the weather had hitherto prevented an attempt to ascend;
but W---- and myself determined, not long since, that it was time
to make the excursion. To this end we crossed the bay to Naples,
and passed the night in town, having also an early start in view.
Accordingly we drove to Portici, where we breakfasted. We then mounted
our horses, under the protection of a guide of reputation, and
proceeded. The ascent for four or five miles is gradual; the road,
an indifferent one at the best, and nearly impracticable for wheels,
leads at first through vineyards, then among copses, and often along
water-courses, or across beds of ancient lava. The summit of the
mountain is the cone of which I have spoken. Its form is regular,
though the edges are broken, some portions being much higher than
others, though the side nearest Naples and the bay, just now, is
tolerably even. I believe the perpendicular height of the lowest part
of this cone is about eight hundred feet; though it varies materially
at different times. From its base, a ridge runs in a westerly direction
for the distance of a mile, when it falls away rapidly towards the
plain. The form of this ridge is favourable for the ascent as well
as for safety, since the land is lower near the cone than at its
extremity, and before lava could flow on the latter, it would run down
the sides of the ridge both north and south of it. On the extremity
of this ridge, which forms a sort of inland promontory, stands the
celebrated Hermitage.
We reached this place in less than three hours after quitting Portici,
the ascent in its immediate neighbourhood being sharp, but not
long. The building is a simple stone structure, with a small chapel
connected; but it has all the peculiarities of a tavern, rather than
of a religious residence. One who had the appearance of a monk lived
there, and administered to our wants, for which consolations we
punctually paid. His whole manner was that of an official of the bar,
rather than of the altar. In consequence of there having been a few
robberies between the Hermitage and the cone, a small guard of soldiers
was stationed at the former, with instructions to send one man with
each party of travellers.
We remained half an hour at the Hermitage, took a cup of wine, and
enjoyed the view, which was magnificent; but, as it was embraced in
that from the crater, I shall not speak further of it here. There are
some fine trees in front of the buildings, and, altogether, a lovelier
spot could not be desired for a recluse. The distance, in an air
line, between the summit and the Hermitage, must be about a mile; and
although it _sounds_ dangerous to live so near the crater, I would as
soon be at this spot in an eruption, as in any of the towns at the base
of the mountain, though these lie at five or six times the distance. A
little explanation will render the matter clear. Lava, from which most
of the danger has arisen in modern times, _cannot_ touch the Hermitage,
on account of the formation of the ridge; and, as for the red-hot
stones and cinders that are always flying into the air, they ascend
in nearly perpendicular lines, and their descent is necessarily much
the same. In point of fact, they rarely fall at any distance from the
crater. It is these, indeed, of which the cone is entirely composed,
and from the base of this cone the Hermitage is distant about a mile.
The _quasi_ hermit, therefore, is just that space out of the line of
fire.
We left the spot on horseback, and rode near half a mile, by a pretty
path, through a wood, and nearly on a level line. We then emerged upon
a plain of lava, which lies materially lower than the wood, and from
which the heated metal has evidently flowed north and south. This low
plain serves as a ditch to the promontory or ridge of the Hermitage. No
lava can possibly cross it until it is filled; an event not likely to
happen soon, as the lava flows off at each side. Winding our way across
it, we soon came to its eastern margin, and dismounted. Here we left
the horses, and prepared for the struggle that was to follow.
The ascent is rather steeper than the sides of a pile of gravel would
be, supposing it to have been formed by the falling of the material on
a given place, without a force sufficient to change its outline. It
appeared to me to be at an angle of about fifty or fifty-five degrees
with the plane of the horizon. As the cinders yield with the weight
of a man, the foot sinking often to the instep, it is a severe task
to get up this place. We went at it coolly, but steadily, stopping to
take breath after short efforts; and I believe we were about twenty
minutes in reaching the summit. The cinders were warm in spots, and a
sulphurous smoke issued from the cone in a great many places that we
passed. I was too experienced a traveller to run myself out of breath,
as the moment of enjoyment approached. Having got within a few feet
of the top, I paused to recover breath; poor W----, who had commenced
with fury, being still a hundred feet beneath me. The guide waited my
leisure; but the guard, whose duty compelled him to go no further than
the foot of the cone, but who, being on his first excursion, chose to
ascend also, lay panting on the rim of the cone, or crater, as I put my
foot by his side.
This was another novel and beautiful _coup d’œil_. As the place was
very different from what I had expected to see, I shall endeavour to
make you understand what it really is. It appeared to me that the
depth of the great crater, at the place where we stood, was a little
more than half of the descent of the cone itself, on its exterior:
though its edge is ragged, and at one spot was two or three hundred
feet higher than at that which we had reached. This edge of the cone,
or crater, overhung its sides in nearly the whole circuit, and the
distance round it was near or quite a mile. It follows, that the
diameter of the crater must be about a third of a mile. Its bottom was
like a floor of clay, resembling that of the Solfatara, smoke issuing
from its crevices. Vivid streaks of brimstone gave it wild, unnatural
tints. It seemed quite as level as an ordinary brick-yard, viewed
from our stand. A little on one side of this circular plain, rose a
small cone, which might be a hundred and fifty or two hundred feet
high, formed of the same materials as the outer cone, with an orifice
perhaps some eighty or a hundred feet in width. This was the living, or
true crater. Out of this spot issued all the smoke, fire, stones, and
cinders of the ordinary workings of the mountain, of which, in truth,
it is the safety valve. This little haystack-looking cone was nearer
to the eastern and southern edges of the great crater than to the
northern and western, and it is altogether too low to be visible to any
except those who ascend to the place we occupied. The red-hot stones
must therefore be propelled upwards many hundred feet, perhaps six or
eight, to be seen at Naples or Sorrento, where we have often seen them,
however, of late.
The scene that broke upon us, as we arrived, was one of the most
extraordinary I ever witnessed. At that instant an ordinary cloud
enveloped the summit of the cone, shutting out the whole view, with
the exception of the crater and the surrounding objects, and casting
a sombre tint on everything. It is probable a few rays from the sun
struggled through this vapour, which was not high above our heads,
though it seemed to descend half way down the cone, for the streaks of
sulphur looked brighter and more unnatural than afterwards. The yellow
tint they cast around them, the unnatural, or rather supernatural
effect, coupled with the gaping crater, the rumbling of the volcano,
and the occasional explosions, combined to give the spot a resemblance
to the entrance of the infernal regions. If I could fancy I was
obtaining glimpses in at the glories and calm radiance of heaven,
when I looked upon the high Alps, looming above the Niesen and cut
off from the lower world by a belt of vapour, I had no difficulty in
now fancying that I stood on the threshold of hell. Virgil died about
half a century before the volcano resumed its action, or he certainly
would never have taxed his imagination to use the Lake Avernus, Mare
Morto, and Elysian Fields of the Baian shore as machinery for his epic,
when Vesuvius presented objects so much more worthy of the subject.
The Campagna was as good an Elysian Field as heart could wish, and the
crater a Tartarus equal to the epic. It is true, there is no Styx; but
the monk I saw at the Hermitage would answer every reasonable purpose
of a Charon.
The “_facilis descensus Averni_” would, also, have been physically
true, supposing the crater always to maintain its present form; for
the circuit of the rim, or upper edge, is not made without hazard,
as poor W---- was near demonstrating, in the workings of some of his
_goatisms_. The crater, however, changes its appearance at every great
convulsion; though the one I have described, I am told, is its general
character.
You may be surprised to hear it, but the volcano itself attracted very
little of my attention for the first half-hour after we reached the
edge of the crater; nor did it at any time, while on the mountain,
fill the first place in my admiration, or even thoughts. Still it was
not idle. Five minutes scarcely intervened between the explosions,
which were much greater than I had anticipated witnessing. They were
preceded by a heavy rumbling, and went off like the puffs of a safety
valve to a huge steam-engine, though unaccompanied by any hissing. The
reports were not altogether unlike those of artillery; the blowing of
a whale had also some resemblance: though neither of these noises was,
in all respects, like that of the volcano. Stones were hurled several
hundred feet into the air, and fell on or near the little cone, which
was constantly growing by these accessions. Cinders, smoke, and flame
accompanied each explosion. There were many minor reports, that sounded
like the crackings of a great conflagration. Occasionally, large stones
fell on the plane of the great crater, at some distance from the
little cone; but, I think, any one upon it might easily have avoided
them. They sounded, on the plain, like stones cast on the Solfatara.
We did not descend into the crater, though there was a spot where it
might be done; but W---- was too much exhausted by the ascent, and I
saw little to be gained by it but the right to say we had done it. The
explosions were so frequent as to render it impossible to ascend the
little cone, and look into the real crater; the fate of Pliny menacing
all who did it, as the vapour was constantly rising in sudden and
violent puffs, inhaling which would probably have been fatal.
My principal enjoyment, moreover, proceeded from the view with its
extraordinary contrasts. To the west, we had the bay, with the islands,
the gulf of Gaeta, an exquisite blending of land and water, and the
sea; while southward, the Apennines, and the Sorrentine shore, with
the gulf of Salerno, through vistas in the peaks, formed altogether a
lovely panorama. Then most of the Campagna Felice stretched beneath
my eye, like an Eden, walled by mountains. It was a Swiss view in
extent, embellished by a true Italian radiance. Naples lay, like a town
seen in a camera obscura, against its hills, a brilliant accessory,
and the sails that hovered near the port resembled specks. A heavy
Russian frigate was riding off the mole, and her fair proportions
were distinctly visible through the pure medium, though diminished
and fairy-like. I say, the pure medium; for the clouds came and went
repeatedly, frequently shutting us in for minutes, and then sailing
away, like birds, towards some other peak. The contrasts of these
moments were sublime; for while nothing could be more infernal than
the crater in its gloom, aided by the accompaniments of the volcano,
nothing was more soft and radiant than the picture the earth presented
when the veil was removed. The body sympathised with the mind; for the
clouds brought the chill of a fog, which the sun relieved by its genial
warmth as the vapour departed.
I could have passed the day on the mountain with pleasure; but W----
unaccountably betrayed a physical debility that was extraordinary for
one of his active habits, and we descended, after passing a couple of
hours on the summit. The descent of the cone was an affair of five
minutes. All we had to do was to keep the body perfectly erect, and
to throw the leg forward freely; the rapidity of the fall causing us
to go down some six or eight feet each step. The shock was completely
destroyed by the yielding of the cinders; and, in addition to
preserving the perpendicular, the only precaution observed was to stop
occasionally, in order not to acquire too much momentum. At the foot of
the cone we mounted, and proceeded to Portici, without halting at the
Hermitage.
The next morning, previously to returning to Sorrento, the consul
accompanied us on board the Russian frigate. This vessel is called
the Princess of Lowertcz, after the wife, by a Morganic marriage,
of the Grand Duke Constantine. She is a noble frigate, though not
very elegant. Her crew appeared sturdy; but the officers had not
sufficiently the air of Russians of rank to prove that the service is
in favour. No nation will ever have an efficient marine unless its
sympathies are strongly with it, as men removed from the public eye,
on the high seas, will not exert themselves sufficiently on any other
terms. It is a proof of a want of this sympathy, when men of the upper
classes avoid the service. This is one reason why the French marine
has never done any thing in proportion to its cost. The nation knows
so little of maritime affairs, that any thing passes for good; and
the public feeling is altogether with the army. Thus, France has been
completely mystified with the affair of Navarino; while England says as
little about it as may be. Any seaman can appreciate a battle, in which
twelve line-of-battle ships are ranged against a few heavy frigates,
forts of no strength, and a maze of corvettes. Vessels of the quality
of those of Ibrahim could not, at anchor, be brought to act on anyone
point in sufficient numbers to overcome a fleet like that under Sir
Edward Codrington, if indeed it could be done on the high seas. I see,
by a trial now going on in England, that the flag-ship fired less than
three rounds in this general engagement!