The sudden appearance, on the 30th of January, 1811, of the island of Sabrina, in the group of the Azores, was the precursor of the dreadful earthquakes which, further westward, shook, from May, 1811, to June, 1813, almost uninterruptedly, first the Antilles, then the plains of the Ohio and Mississippi, and lastly, the opposite coasts of Venezuela or Caracas. Thirty days after the total destruction of the beautiful capital of the province, there was an eruption of the long inactive volcano of St. Vincent, in the neighbouring islands of the Antilles. A remarkable phenomenon accompanied this eruption: at the moment of this explosion, which occurred on the 30th of April, 1811, a terrible subterranean noise was heard in South America, over a district of more than 35,000 square miles. The inhabitants of the banks of the Apure, at the confluence of the Rio Nula, and those living on the remote sea-coast of Venezuela, agreed in comparing this sound to the noise of heavy artillery. The distance from the confluence of the Rio Nula with the Apure (by which I entered the Orinoco) to the volcano of St. Vincent, measured in a straight line, is no less than 628 miles. This noise was certainly not propagated through the air, and must have arisen from some deep-seated subterranean cause; its intensity was, moreover, hardly greater on the shores of the Caribbean sea, near the seat of the raging volcano, than in the interior of the country in the basin of the Apure and the Orinoco.
It would be useless to multiply examples of this nature, by adducing others which I have collected: I will therefore only refer to one further instance, namely, the memorable earthquake of Lisbon, an important phenomenon in the annals of Europe. Simultaneously with this event, which took place on the 1st of November, 1755, not only were the Lakes of Switzerland and the sea off the Swedish coasts violently agitated, but in the eastern portion of the Antilles, near the islands of Martinique, Antigua, and Barbadoes, the tide, which never exceeds thirty inches, suddenly rose upwards of twenty feet. All these phenomena prove, that subterranean forces are manifested either dynamically, expansively, and attended by commotion, in earthquakes; or possess the property of producing, or of chemically modifying substances in volcanos; and they further show, that these forces are not seated near the surface in the thin crust of the earth, but deep in the interior of our planet, whence through fissures and unfilled veins they act simultaneously at widely distant points of the earth’s surface.
The more varied the structure of volcanos, that is to say, of elevations inclosing a channel through which the molten masses of the interior of the earth reach the surface, the more important it is to form a correct idea of these structures by careful measurement. The interest derived from measurements of this kind, which I made a special subject of inquiry in the western hemisphere, is increased by the consideration, that the objects to be measured vary in magnitude at different points. A philosophical study of nature seeks, in considering the changes of phenomena, to connect the present with the past.
In order to ascertain the periodic recurrence, or the laws of the progressive changes in nature, we require certain fixed points, and carefully conducted observations, which, by their connection with definite epochs, may serve as a basis for numerical comparisons. If the mean temperature of the atmosphere and of the earth in different latitudes, or the mean height of the barometer at the sea level, had been determined only once in every thousand years, we should know to what extent the heat of climates has increased or diminished, and whether any changes have taken place in the height of the atmosphere. Such points of comparison are especially required to determine the inclination and declination of the magnetic needle, and the intensity of those electro-magnetic forces on which Seebeck and Erman, two admirable physicists belonging to this Academy, have thrown so much light. If it be a meritorious undertaking on the part of learned societies to investigate with perseverance the cosmical changes in the heat and pressure of the atmosphere, and particularly the magnetic direction and intensity, it is no less the duty of the travelling geologist to direct attention to the varying height of volcanos in determining the inequalities of the earth’s surface. The observations which I formerly made in the Mexican mountains, at the volcano of Toluca, at Popocatepetl, at the Cofre de Perote, or Nauhcampatepetl, and Xorullo, and in the Andes of Quito at Pichincha, I have had opportunities since my return to Europe of repeating, at different periods, on Mount Vesuvius. Where complete trigonometric or barometric measurements are wanting, their place may be supplied by angles of altitude laid down with precision, and taken at points accurately determined. The comparison of such determinations, made at different periods of time, may sometimes be even preferable to the complication of more complete operations.
Saussure measured Vesuvius in 1773, and at that time both the north-western and south-eastern margins of the crater appeared to him to be equal in height. He found their elevation above the level of the sea to be 3894 feet. The eruption of 1794 occasioned a falling in towards the south, and an inequality in the margins of the crater, which may be distinguished from a considerable distance even by the most unpractised eye. Leopold von Buch, Gay Lussac, and myself, measured Mount Vesuvius three times in the year 1805, and found that the elevation of the northern margin, la Rocca del Palo, opposite the Somma, was exactly as it had been given by Saussure, while the southern margin was 479 feet lower than it had been in 1773. The elevation of the volcano itself towards Torre del Greco (the side towards which, for thirty years, the volcanic action has been principally directed) had, at that time, decreased one-eighth. The cone of cinders bears to the total height of Vesuvius the relation of 1 : 3; in Pichincha, the ratio is as 1 : 10, and at the Peak of Teneriffe, as 1 : 22. Of these three volcanic mountains, Vesuvius has, therefore, comparatively, the highest cone of cinders; probably because, being a volcano of inconsiderable height, it has chiefly acted through its summit.
A few months ago, in the year 1822, I succeeded not only in repeating my earlier barometric measurements of Mount Vesuvius, but also in determining more completely all the margins of the crater[[108]] during three ascents of the mountain.
These determinations are, perhaps, deserving of some degree of attention, since they embrace the long period of the great eruptions between 1805 and 1822, and are probably the only measurements hitherto published of any volcano which admit of comparison in all their parts. They prove, that the margins of the crater should be regarded as a much more permanent phenomenon than has hitherto been supposed, from the hasty observations made on the subject; and that this character appertains to them everywhere, and not merely in those instances where, as at the Peak of Teneriffe, and in all the volcanos of the Andes, they evidently consist of trachyte. According to my latest determinations it would seem, that since the time of Saussure, a period of forty-nine years, the north-western margin of Vesuvius has probably not changed at all, and that the south-eastern one, in the direction of Bosche Tre Case, which in 1794 had become 426 feet lower, has since then only altered about 64 feet.
If, in the newspaper reports of great eruptions, we often find assertions made of an entire change of form in Mount Vesuvius, and if these assertions appear to be confirmed by the picturesque views of the volcano made at Naples, the cause of the error arises from the outlines of the margins of the crater having been confounded with those of the cones of eruption accidentally formed in its centre, the bottom of which has been raised by the force of vapours. A cone of eruption of this kind, formed by the accumulation of masses of rapilli and scoriæ, gradually came to view, above the south-eastern margin of the crater, between the years 1816 and 1818. The eruption in the month of February, 1822, increased this cone to such an elevation, that it projected from 107 to 117 feet above the north-western margin of the crater (the Rocca del Palo). This remarkable cone, which was at length regarded at Naples as the actual summit of Vesuvius, fell in with a fearful crash at the last eruption, on the night of the 22nd of October; in consequence of which, the bottom of the crater, which had continued uninterruptedly accessible from the year 1811, is now nearly 800 feet below the northern and 213 feet below the southern margin of the volcano. The varying form and relative position of the cones of eruption, the apertures of which must not, as they sometimes are, be confounded with the crater of the volcano, give to Vesuvius at different epochs a peculiar physiognomy; so much so, that the historiographer of this volcano, by a mere inspection of Hackert’s landscapes in the Palace of Portici, might guess the exact year in which the artist had made his sketch, by the outline of the summit of the mountain, according as the northern or southern side is represented in respect to height.
Twenty-four hours after the fall of the cone of scoriæ, which was 426 feet high, and when the small but numerous streams of lava had flowed off, on the night between the 23rd and 24th of October, there began a fiery eruption of ashes and rapilli, which continued uninterruptedly for twelve days, but was most violent during the first four days. During this period the explosions in the interior of the volcano were so loud that the mere vibrations of the air caused the ceilings to crack in the Palace of Portici, although no shocks of an earthquake were then or had previously been experienced. A remarkable phenomenon was observed in the neighbouring villages of Resina, Torre del Greco, Torre del’ Annunziata, and Bosche Tre Case. Here the atmosphere was so completely saturated with ashes that the whole region was enveloped in complete darkness during many hours in the middle of the day. The inhabitants were obliged to carry lanterns with them through the streets, as is often done in Quito during the eruptions of Pichincha. Never had the flight of the inhabitants been more general, for lava streams are less dreaded even than an eruption of ashes, a phenomenon unknown here in any degree of intensity, and one which fills the imaginations of men with images of terror from the vague tradition of the manner in which Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabiæ were destroyed.
The hot aqueous vapour which issued from the crater during the eruption, and diffused itself through the atmosphere, formed, on cooling, a dense cloud, which enveloped the column of ashes and fire, that rose to an elevation of between 9000 and 10,000 feet above the level of the sea. So sudden a condensation of vapour, and, as Gay Lussac has shown, the formation of the cloud itself, tended to increase electric tension. Flashes of forked lightning darted in all directions from the column of ashes, while the rolling thunder might be clearly distinguished from the deep rumbling sounds within the volcano. In no other eruption had the play of the electric forces been so powerfully manifested as on this occasion.