CHAPTER VII.
Jorullo—Great Monument—Jorullo's Estate—Interruption to his
Quiet—His Estate Swells—Swallows Two Rivers—Throws up
Ovens—Becomes a Burning Mountain—Popocatepetl—Spanish
Ascents—Orizaba —Muller's Ascent—Morne-Garou—Pelée—-La
Soufriere
What a fortunate man was Mr. Jorullo! Old Cheops, king of Egypt, spent vast sums of money, many long years, and the labour of myriads of his subjects, in erecting the Great Pyramid as a monument to his memory. But Mr. Jorullo, without his having to lay down a single Mexican dollar, and without any labour, either of his own or of his servants, had a magnificent monument raised to his memory in a single night. Jorullo's monument, too, is far bigger than the pyramid of Cheops—being nearly four times the height, and occupying a much larger extent of ground. Whether it will last as long as the pyramid has done, time only can show.
You would doubtless like to know how this great monument was reared. Here is the story:—Don Pedro di Jorullo was a Mexican gentleman who lived about the middle of the last century. He was a landed proprietor—the owner of a nice little farm of great fertility, situated to the westward of the city of Mexico, and about ninety miles from the coast of the Pacific Ocean. The ground was well watered by artificial means, and produced abundant crops of indigo and sugar-cane. Thus Mr. Jorullo was a very thriving well-to-do sort of man.
[Illustration: Jorullo]
This gentleman's prosperity continued without interruption till the month of June 1759, when, to the great alarm of his servants dwelling on the estate, strange underground rumblings were heard, accompanied by frequent shakings of the ground. These continued for nearly two months; but at the end of that time all became quiet again, and Mr. Jorullo's servants slept in fancied security. On the night of the 28th of September, however, their slumbers were suddenly broken by a return of the horrible underground rumblings—thundering more loudly than before. The next night, these subterranean thunders became so loud, that the Indian servants started from their beds, and fled in terror to the mountains in the neighbourhood. Gazing thence, after day had dawned, they beheld to their astonishment that a tract of ground from three to four square miles in extent, with their master's farm in the middle of it, had been upheaved in the shape of an inflated bladder. At the edges this singular elevation rises only about thirty-nine feet above the old level of the plain; but so great is the general convexity of the mound, that towards the centre it swells up to five hundred and twenty-four feet above the original level.
The Indians affirmed that they saw flames issue from the ground throughout an extent of more than half a square league, while fragments of burning rocks were thrown to enormous heights. Thick clouds of ashes rose into the air, illuminated by glowing fires beneath; and the surface of the ground seemed to swell into billows, like those of a tempestuous sea. Into the vast burning chasms, whence these ejections were thrown, two rivers plunged in cataracts; but the water only increased the violence of the eruption. It was thrown into steam with explosive force, and great quantities of mud and balls of basalt were ejected. On the surface of the swollen mound there were formed thousands of small cones, from six to ten feet in height, and sending forth steam to heights varying from twenty to thirty feet.
Out of a chasm in the midst of these cones, or ovens, as the natives call them, there rose six large masses, the highest of which is sixteen hundred feet in height, and constitutes the volcano of Jorullo. The eruptions of this central volcano continued till February 1760 with extreme violence—the crater throwing out large quantities of lava; but in the succeeding years it became less turbulent in its activity. It still, however, continues to burn; and the mountain emits from the wide crater at its summit several jets of vapour. The foregoing woodcut gives a view of this volcano, and of the little steaming ovens which stud the whole ground around it, giving it at a distance the appearance of the sea in a storm. And now confess that Mr. Jorullo's monument is far grander than the pyramid of Cheops. Surely the loss of his farm was amply compensated to him, by the perpetuation of his memory and his name, through the rearing of such a marvellous cenotaph.
For a long time after the first eruption, the ground for a great distance round the volcano was too hot to be habitable or capable of cultivation. It is now, however, so much cooled down, that it is once more covered with vegetation; and even some small portions of the raised ground containing the ovens have been again brought under culture.
Besides this volcano, so recent in its origin, Mexico contains other five—Orizaba, Toluca, Tuxtla, Popocatepetl, and Colima. What is rather remarkable, these five, together with Jorullo, all lie nearly in a straight line running east and west. The tracts of country which these volcanoes have desolated with their lavas are called by the Mexicans the "Malpays."
The most remarkable of these mountains is Popocatepetl. Although it has long remained in comparative quiet, it was very active at the time of the Spanish invasion under Cortés. Of the first approach of the Spaniards to this volcano, and of the attempts made by some of them to climb to the top, Mr. Prescott, in his history of the conquest of Mexico, gives the following graphic account:—
"They were passing between two of the highest mountains on the North American continent, Popocatepetl, 'the hill that smokes' and Iztaccihuatl, or 'white woman;' a name suggested, doubtless, by the bright robe of snow spread over its broad and broken surface. A puerile superstition of the Indians regarded these celebrated mountains as gods, and Iztaccihuatl as the wife of her more formidable neighbour. A tradition of a higher character described the northern volcano as the abode of the departed spirits of wicked rulers, whose fiery agonies in their prison-house caused the fearful bellowings and convulsions in times of eruption. It was the classic fable of antiquity. These superstitious legends had invested the mountain with a mysterious horror, that made the natives shrink from attempting its ascent, which, indeed, was, from natural causes, a work of incredible difficulty.
"The great volcan, as Popocatepetl was called, rose to the enormous height of 17,852 feet above the level of the sea; more than 2000 feet above the 'monarch of mountains'—the highest elevation in Europe. During the present century it has rarely given evidence of its volcanic origin, and 'the hill that smokes' has almost forfeited its claim to the appellation. But at the time of the conquest it was frequently in a state of activity, and raged with uncommon fury while the Spaniards were at Tlascala; an evil omen, it was thought, for the natives of Anahuac. Its head, gathered into a regular cone by the deposit of successive eruptions, wore the usual form of volcanic mountains, when not disturbed by the falling in of the crater. Soaring towards the skies, with its silver sheet of everlasting snow, it was seen far and wide over the broad plains of Mexico and Puebla; the first object which the morning sun greeted in his rising, the last where his evening rays were seen to linger, shedding a glorious effulgence over its head, that contrasted strikingly with the ruinous waste of sand and lava immediately below, and the deep fringe of funereal pines that shrouded its base.
"The mysterious terrors which hung over the spot. and the wild love of adventure, made some of the Spanish cavaliers desirous to attempt the ascent, which the natives declared no man could accomplish and live. Cortés encouraged them in the enterprise, willing to show the Indians that no achievement was above the dauntless daring of his followers. One of his captains, accordingly, Diego Ordaz, with nine Spaniards, and several Tlascalans, encouraged by their example, undertook the ascent. It was attended with more difficulty than had been anticipated.
"The lower region was clothed with a dense forest, so thickly matted, that in some places it was scarcely possible to penetrate it. It grew thinner, however, as they advanced, dwindling by degrees into a straggling stunted vegetation, till, at the height of somewhat more than 13,000 feet, it faded away altogether. The Indians, who had held on thus far; intimidated by the strange subterraneous sounds of the volcano, even then in a state of combustion, now left them. The track opened on a black surface of glazed volcanic sand and of lava, the broken fragments of which, arrested in its boiling progress in a thousand fantastic forms, opposed continual impediments to their advance. Amidst these, one huge rock, the Pico del Fraile, a conspicuous object from below, rose to the perpendicular height of 150 feet, compelling them to take a wide circuit. They soon came to the limits of perpetual snow, where new difficulties presented themselves, as the treacherous ice gave an imperfect footing, and a false step might precipitate them into the frozen chasms that yawned around. To increase their distress, respiration in these aerial regions became so difficult, that every effort was attended with sharp pains in the head and limbs. Still they pressed on, till, drawing nearer the crater, such volumes of smoke, sparks, and cinders were belched forth from its burning entrails, and driven down the sides of the mountain, as nearly suffocated and blinded them. It was too much even for their hardy frames to endure, and, however reluctantly, they were compelled to abandon the attempt on the eve of its completion. They brought back some huge icicles—a curious sight in those tropical regions—as a trophy of their achievement, which, however imperfect, was sufficient to strike the minds of the natives with wonder, by showing that with the Spaniards the most appalling and mysterious perils were only as pastimes. The undertaking was eminently characteristic of the bold spirit of the cavalier of that day, who, not content with the dangers that lay in his path, seemed to court them from the mere Quixotic love of adventure. A report of the affair was transmitted to the Emperor Charles V.; and the family of Ordaz was allowed to commemorate the exploit by assuming a burning mountain on their escutcheon.
"The general was not satisfied with the result. Two years after he sent up another party, under Francisco Montano, a cavalier of determined resolution. The object was to obtain sulphur to assist in making gunpowder for the army. The mountain was quiet at the time, and the expedition was attended with better success. The Spaniards, five in-number, climbed to the very edge of the crater, which presented an irregular ellipse at its mouth, more than a league in circumference. Its depth might be from 800 to 1000 feet. A lurid flame burned gloomily at the bottom, sending up a sulphureous steam, which, cooling as it rose, was precipitated on the sides of the cavity. The party cast lots, and it fell on Montano himself to descend in a basket into this hideous abyss, into which he was lowered by his companions to the depth of 400 feet! This was repeated several times, till the adventurous cavalier had collected a sufficient quantity of sulphur for the wants of the army."
The more tranquil state of the volcano in modern times having rendered the summit no longer so difficult of access as it was in those days, the ascent has been several times achieved—twice in 1827, and again in 1833 and 1834. The crater is now a large oval basin with precipitous walls, composed of beds of lava, of which some are black, others of a pale rose tint. At the bottom of the crater, which is nearly flat, are several conical vents, whence are continually issuing vapours of variable colour, red, yellow, or white. The beds of sulphur deposited in this crater are worked for economical purposes. Two snowy peaks tower above its walls.
Not less magnificent in its proportions is the volcano of Orizaba, which is nearly of the same height as Popocatepetl. It was very active about the middle of the sixteenth century, having had several great eruptions between 1545 and 1560; but since then it has sunk into comparative repose. This mountain was ascended by Baron Muller in 1856. A first attempt proved unsuccessful; but by passing a night in a grotto near the limit of perpetual snow, he was able on the following day, after a toilsome ascent, to reach the edge of the crater—not, however, till near sunset. His experiences, and the scene which was presented to his wondering gaze, he describes in the following terms:—
"I have achieved my purpose, and joy banishes all my griefs, but only for a moment; suddenly I fell to the ground, and a stream of blood gushed from my mouth.
"On recovering, I found myself still close to the crater, and I then summoned all my strength to gaze and observe as much as possible. My pen cannot describe either the aspect of those regions, or the impressions they produced on me. Here seemed to be the gate of the nether world, enclosing darkness and horror. What terrible power must have been required to raise and shiver such enormous masses, to melt them and pile them up like towers, at the very moment of their cooling and acquiring their actual forms!
"A yellow crust of sulphur coats in several places the internal walls, and from the bottom rise several volcanic cones. The soil of the crater, so far as I could see, was covered with snow, consequently not at all warm. The Indians however affirmed that, at several points, a hot air issues from crevices in the rocks. Although I could not verify their statement, it seemed to me probable; for I have often observed similar phenomena in Popocatepetl.
"My original intention of passing the night on the crater had for overpowering reasons become impracticable. The twilight which, in this latitude, as every one knows, is extremely short, having already begun, it was necessary to prepare for our return. The two Indians rolled together the straw mats which they had brought, and bent them in front so as to form a sort of sledge. We sat down upon these, and stretching out our legs, allowed ourselves to glide down on this vehicle. The rapidity with which we were precipitated increased to such a degree, that our descent was rather like being shot through the air, than any other mode of locomotion. In a few minutes we dashed over a space which it had taken us five hours to climb."
There are several of the West Indian islands of volcanic origin; and three of them—St. Vincent, Martinique, and Guadaloupe—contain active volcanoes. The most remarkable is the volcano of Morne-Garou, in St. Vincent, the eruptions from which have been particularly violent. In 1812 the ashes which it threw out were so great in quantity, and projected to so vast a height, that they were carried to a distance of two hundred miles in the teeth of the trade-wind. From Mount Pelée, in Martinique, there was an eruption in August 1851. La Soufriere, the volcano in Guadaloupe, is said to have been cleft in twain during an earthquake. Its activity has long been in a subdued state; but it is remarkable for its deposits of sulphur.