The wonders of the world

by John Loraine Abbott

Not finding any safety on land, and exposed, by the smallness of the boat to a very hazardous passage by sea, he at length landed at Lopizium, a castle midway between Tropæa and Euphæmia, the city to which he was bound. Here, wherever he turned his eyes, nothing but scenes of ruin and horror appeared: towns and castles were leveled to the ground; while Stromboli, although sixty miles distant, was seen to vomit flames in an unusual manner, and with a noise which he could distinctly hear. From remote objects his attention was soon diverted to contiguous danger: the rumbling sound of an approaching earthquake, with which he was by this time well acquainted, alarmed him for the consequences. Every instant it grew louder, as if approaching; and the spot on which he stood shook so dreadfully, that being unable to stand, he and his companions caught hold of the shrubs which grew nearest to them, and in that manner supported themselves.

This violent paroxysm having ceased, he now thought of prosecuting his voyage to Euphæmia, which lay within a short distance. Turning his eyes toward that city, he could merely perceive a terrific dark cloud, which seemed to rest on the place. He was the more surprised at this, as the weather was remarkably serene. Waiting, therefore, until this cloud had passed away, he turned to look for the city; but, alas! it was totally sunk, and in its place a dismal and putrid lake was to be seen. All was a melancholy solitude, a scene of hideous desolation. Such was the fate of the city of Euphæmia; and the other devastating effects of this earthquake were so great, that along the whole coast of that part of Italy, for the space of two hundred miles, the remains of ruined towns and villages were everywhere to be seen, and the inhabitants, without dwellings, dispersed over the fields. Kircher at length terminated his distressful voyage, by reaching Naples, after having escaped a variety of perils both by sea and land.

THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE OF 1755.

This very remarkable and destructive earthquake extended over a tract of at least four millions of square miles. It appears to have originated beneath the Atlantic ocean, the waves of which received almost as violent a concussion as the land. Its effects were even extended to the waters, in many places where the shocks were not perceptible. It pervaded the greater portions of the continents of Europe, Africa and America; but its extreme violence was exercised on the south-western part of the former.

Lisbon, the Portuguese capital, had already suffered greatly from an earthquake in 1531; and, since the calamity about to be described, has had three such visitations, in 1761, 1765, and 1772, which were not, however, attended by equally disastrous consequences. In the present instance it had been remarked that since the commencement of the year 1750, less rain had fallen than had been known in the memory of the oldest of the inhabitants, unless during the spring preceding the calamitous event. The summer had been unusually cool; and the weather fine and clear for the last forty days. At length, on the first of November, about forty minutes past nine in the morning, a most violent shock of an earthquake was felt; its duration did not exceed six seconds; but so powerful was the concussion, that it overthrew every church and convent in the city, together with the royal palace, and the magnificent opera house adjoining to it; in short, no building of any consequence escaped. About one-fourth of the dwelling-houses were thrown down; and, at a moderate computation, thirty thousand persons perished. The sight of the dead bodies, and the shrieks of those who were half-buried in the ruins, were terrible beyond description; and so great was the consternation, that the most resolute man durst not stay a moment to extricate the friend he loved most affectionately, by the removal of the stones beneath the weight of which he was crushed. Self-preservation alone was consulted; and the most probable security was sought, by getting into open places, and into the middle of the streets. Those who were in the upper stories of the houses, were in general more fortunate than those who attempted to escape by the doors, many of the latter being buried beneath the ruins, with the greater part of the foot-passengers. Those who were in carriages escaped the best, although the drivers and horses suffered severely. The number, however, of those who perished in the streets, and in the houses, was greatly inferior to that of those who were buried beneath the ruins of the churches; for, as it was a day of solemn festival, these were crowded for the celebration of the mass. There were very many of these churches; and the lofty steeples in most instances, fell with the roof, insomuch that few escaped.

The first shock, as has been noticed, was extremely short, but was quickly succeeded by two others; and the whole, generally described as a single shock, lasted from five to seven minutes. About two hours after, fires broke out in three different parts of the city; and this new calamity prevented the digging out of the immense riches concealed beneath the ruins. From a perfect calm, a fresh gale immediately after sprang up, and occasioned the fire to rage with such fury, that in the space of three days the city was nearly reduced to ashes. Every element seemed to conspire toward its destruction; for, soon after the shock, which happened near high-water, the tide rose in an instant forty feet, and at the castle of Belem, which defended the entrance of the harbor, fifty feet higher than had ever been known. Had it not subsided as suddenly, the whole city would have been submerged. A large new quay sunk to an unfathomable depth, with several hundreds of persons, not one of the bodies of whom was afterward found. Before the sea thus came rolling in like a mountain, the bar was seen dry from the shore.

The terrors of the surviving inhabitants were great and multiplied. Amid the general confusion, and through a scarcity of hands, the dead bodies could not be buried, and it was dreaded that a pestilence would ensue; but from this apprehension they were relieved by the fire, by which these bodies were for the greater part consumed. The fears of a famine were more substantial; since, during the three days succeeding the earthquake, an ounce of bread was literally worth a pound of gold. Several of the corn magazines having been, however, fortunately saved from the fire, a scanty supply of bread was afterward procured. Next came the dread of the pillage and murder of those who had saved any of their effects; and this happened in several instances, until examples were made of the delinquents. The great shock was succeeded about noon by another, when the walls of several houses which were still standing, were seen to open, from the top to the bottom, more than a fourth of a yard, and afterward to close again so exactly as not to leave any signs of injury. Between the first and the eighth of November twenty-two shocks were reckoned.

A boat on the river, about a mile distant from Lisbon, was heard by the passengers to make a noise as if it had run aground, although then in deep water: they at the same time saw the houses falling on both sides of the river, in front of which, on the Lisbon side, the greater part of a convent fell, burying many of its inmates beneath the ruins, while others were precipitated into the river. The water was covered with dust, blown by a strong northerly wind; and the sun entirely obscured. On landing, they were driven by the overflowing of the waters to the high grounds, whence they perceived the sea, at a mile’s distance, rushing in like a torrent, although against wind and tide. The bed of the Tagus was in many places raised to its surface; while ships were driven from their anchors, and jostled together with such violence that their crews did not know whether they were afloat or aground. The master of a ship, who had great difficulty in reaching the port of Lisbon, reported that, being fifty leagues at sea, the shock was there so violent as to damage the deck of the vessel. He fancied he had mistaken his reckoning, and struck on a rock.

The following observations, relative to this fatal earthquake, were made at Colares, about twenty miles from Lisbon, and within two miles of the sea. On the last day of October, the weather was clear, and remarkably warm for the season. About four o’clock in the afternoon a fog arose, proceeding from the sea, and covering the valleys, which was very unusual at that season of the year. The wind shifted soon after to the east, and the fog returned to the sea, collecting itself, and becoming exceedingly thick. As the fog retired, the sea rose with a prodigious roaring. On the first of November, the day broke with a serene sky, the wind continuing at the east; but about nine o’clock the sun began to be obscured; and about half an hour after a rumbling noise was heard, resembling that of chariots, and increasing to such a degree, that at length it became equal to the explosions of the largest artillery. Immediately a shock of an earthquake was felt; and this was succeeded by a second and a third, at the same time that several light flames of fire, resembling the kindling of charcoal, issued from the mountains. During these three shocks, the walls of the buildings moved from east to west. In another spot, where the sea-coast could be descried, a great quantity of smoke, very thick, but somewhat pale, issued from the hill named the Fojo. This increased with the fourth shock, at noon, and afterward continued to issue in a greater or less degree. At the instant the subterraneous rumblings were heard, the smoke was observed to burst forth at the Fojo; and its volume was constantly proportioned to the noise. On visiting the spot whence it was seen to arise, no sign of fire could be perceived near it. After the earthquake, several fountains were dried up; while others, after undergoing great changes, returned to their pristine state. In places where there had not been any water, springs burst forth, and continued to flow; several of these spouted to the hight of nearly twenty feet, and threw up sand of various colors. On the hills, rocks were split, and the earth rent; while toward the coast several large portions of rock were thrown from the eminences into the sea.