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by Dickens, Chales


  the strange and melancholy sensation of seeing the Destroyed and

  the Destroyer making this quiet picture in the sun. Then, ramble

  on, and see, at every turn, the little familiar tokens of human

  habitation and every-day pursuits; the chafing of the bucket-rope

  in the stone rim of the exhausted well; the track of carriagewheels

  in the pavement of the street; the marks of drinking-vessels

  on the stone counter of the wine-shop; the amphorae in private

  cellars, stored away so many hundred years ago, and undisturbed to

  this hour - all rendering the solitude and deadly lonesomeness of

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  the place, ten thousand times more solemn, than if the volcano, in

  its fury, had swept the city from the earth, and sunk it in the

  bottom of the sea.

  After it was shaken by the earthquake which preceded the eruption,

  workmen were employed in shaping out, in stone, new ornaments for

  temples and other buildings that had suffered. Here lies their

  work, outside the city gate, as if they would return to-morrow.

  In the cellar of Diomede's house, where certain skeletons were

  found huddled together, close to the door, the impression of their

  bodies on the ashes, hardened with the ashes, and became stamped

  and fixed there, after they had shrunk, inside, to scanty bones.

  So, in the theatre of Herculaneum, a comic mask, floating on the

  stream when it was hot and liquid, stamped its mimic features in it

  as it hardened into stone; and now, it turns upon the stranger the

  fantastic look it turned upon the audiences in that same theatre

  two thousand years ago.

  Next to the wonder of going up and down the streets, and in and out

  of the houses, and traversing the secret chambers of the temples of

  a religion that has vanished from the earth, and finding so many

  fresh traces of remote antiquity: as if the course of Time had

  been stopped after this desolation, and there had been no nights

  and days, months, years, and centuries, since: nothing is more

  impressive and terrible than the many evidences of the searching

  nature of the ashes, as bespeaking their irresistible power, and

  the impossibility of escaping them. In the wine-cellars, they

  forced their way into the earthen vessels: displacing the wine and

  choking them, to the brim, with dust. In the tombs, they forced

  the ashes of the dead from the funeral urns, and rained new ruin

  even into them. The mouths, and eyes, and skulls of all the

  skeletons, were stuffed with this terrible hail. In Herculaneum,

  where the flood was of a different and a heavier kind, it rolled

  in, like a sea. Imagine a deluge of water turned to marble, at its

  height - and that is what is called 'the lava' here.

  Some workmen were digging the gloomy well on the brink of which we

  now stand, looking down, when they came on some of the stone

  benches of the theatre - those steps (for such they seem) at the

  bottom of the excavation - and found the buried city of

  Herculaneum. Presently going down, with lighted torches, we are

  perplexed by great walls of monstrous thickness, rising up between

  the benches, shutting out the stage, obtruding their shapeless

  forms in absurd places, confusing the whole plan, and making it a

  disordered dream. We cannot, at first, believe, or picture to

  ourselves, that THIS came rolling in, and drowned the city; and

  that all that is not here, has been cut away, by the axe, like

  solid stone. But this perceived and understood, the horror and

  oppression of its presence are indescribable.

  Many of the paintings on the walls in the roofless chambers of both

  cities, or carefully removed to the museum at Naples, are as fresh

  and plain, as if they had been executed yesterday. Here are

  subjects of still life, as provisions, dead game, bottles, glasses,

  and the like; familiar classical stories, or mythological fables,

  always forcibly and plainly told; conceits of cupids, quarrelling,

  sporting, working at trades; theatrical rehearsals; poets reading

  their productions to their friends; inscriptions chalked upon the

  walls; political squibs, advertisements, rough drawings by

  schoolboys; everything to people and restore the ancient cities, in

  the fancy of their wondering visitor. Furniture, too, you see, of

  every kind - lamps, tables, couches; vessels for eating, drinking,

  and cooking; workmen's tools, surgical instruments, tickets for the

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  theatre, pieces of money, personal ornaments, bunches of keys found

  clenched in the grasp of skeletons, helmets of guards and warriors;

  little household bells, yet musical with their old domestic tones.

  The least among these objects, lends its aid to swell the interest

  of Vesuvius, and invest it with a perfect fascination. The

  looking, from either ruined city, into the neighbouring grounds

  overgrown with beautiful vines and luxuriant trees; and remembering

  that house upon house, temple on temple, building after building,

  and street after street, are still lying underneath the roots of

  all the quiet cultivation, waiting to be turned up to the light of

  day; is something so wonderful, so full of mystery, so captivating

  to the imagination, that one would think it would be paramount, and

  yield to nothing else. To nothing but Vesuvius; but the mountain

  is the genius of the scene. From every indication of the ruin it

  has worked, we look, again, with an absorbing interest to where its

  smoke is rising up into the sky. It is beyond us, as we thread the

  ruined streets: above us, as we stand upon the ruined walls, we

  follow it through every vista of broken columns, as we wander

  through the empty court-yards of the houses; and through the

  garlandings and interlacings of every wanton vine. Turning away to

  Paestum yonder, to see the awful structures built, the least aged

  of them, hundreds of years before the birth of Christ, and standing

  yet, erect in lonely majesty, upon the wild, malaria-blighted plain

  - we watch Vesuvius as it disappears from the prospect, and watch

  for it again, on our return, with the same thrill of interest: as

  the doom and destiny of all this beautiful country, biding its

  terrible time.

  It is very warm in the sun, on this early spring-day, when we

  return from Paestum, but very cold in the shade: insomuch, that

  although we may lunch, pleasantly, at noon, in the open air, by the

  gate of Pompeii, the neighbouring rivulet supplies thick ice for

  our wine. But, the sun is shining brightly; there is not a cloud

  or speck of vapour in the whole blue sky, looking down upon the bay

  of Naples; and the moon will be at the full to-night. No matter

  that the snow and ice lie thick upon the summit of Vesuvius, or

  that we have been on foot all day at Pompeii, or that croakers

  maintain that strangers should not be on the mountain by night, in

  such an unusual season. Let us take advantage of the fine weather;

  make the best of our way to Resina, the little village
at the foot

  of the mountain; prepare ourselves, as well as we can, on so short

  a notice, at the guide's house; ascend at once, and have sunset

  half-way up, moon-light at the top, and midnight to come down in!

  At four o'clock in the afternoon, there is a terrible uproar in the

  little stable-yard of Signior Salvatore, the recognised head-guide,

  with the gold band round his cap; and thirty under-guides who are

  all scuffling and screaming at once, are preparing half-a-dozen

  saddled ponies, three litters, and some stout staves, for the

  journey. Every one of the thirty, quarrels with the other twentynine,

  and frightens the six ponies; and as much of the village as

  can possibly squeeze itself into the little stable-yard,

  participates in the tumult, and gets trodden on by the cattle.

  After much violent skirmishing, and more noise than would suffice

  for the storming of Naples, the procession starts. The head-guide,

  who is liberally paid for all the attendants, rides a little in

  advance of the party; the other thirty guides proceed on foot.

  Eight go forward with the litters that are to be used by-and-by;

  and the remaining two-and-twenty beg.

  We ascend, gradually, by stony lanes like rough broad flights of

  stairs, for some time. At length, we leave these, and the

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  vineyards on either side of them, and emerge upon a bleak bare

  region where the lava lies confusedly, in enormous rusty masses; as

  if the earth had been ploughed up by burning thunderbolts. And

  now, we halt to see the sun set. The change that falls upon the

  dreary region, and on the whole mountain, as its red light fades,

  and the night comes on - and the unutterable solemnity and

  dreariness that reign around, who that has witnessed it, can ever

  forget!

  It is dark, when after winding, for some time, over the broken

  ground, we arrive at the foot of the cone: which is extremely

  steep, and seems to rise, almost perpendicularly, from the spot

  where we dismount. The only light is reflected from the snow,

  deep, hard, and white, with which the cone is covered. It is now

  intensely cold, and the air is piercing. The thirty-one have

  brought no torches, knowing that the moon will rise before we reach

  the top. Two of the litters are devoted to the two ladies; the

  third, to a rather heavy gentleman from Naples, whose hospitality

  and good-nature have attached him to the expedition, and determined

  him to assist in doing the honours of the mountain. The rather

  heavy gentleman is carried by fifteen men; each of the ladies by

  half-a-dozen. We who walk, make the best use of our staves; and so

  the whole party begin to labour upward over the snow, - as if they

  were toiling to the summit of an antediluvian Twelfth-cake.

  We are a long time toiling up; and the head-guide looks oddly about

  him when one of the company - not an Italian, though an habitue of

  the mountain for many years: whom we will call, for our present

  purpose, Mr. Pickle of Portici - suggests that, as it is freezing

  hard, and the usual footing of ashes is covered by the snow and

  ice, it will surely be difficult to descend. But the sight of the

  litters above, tilting up and down, and jerking from this side to

  that, as the bearers continually slip and tumble, diverts our

  attention; more especially as the whole length of the rather heavy

  gentleman is, at that moment, presented to us alarmingly

  foreshortened, with his head downwards.

  The rising of the moon soon afterwards, revives the flagging

  spirits of the bearers. Stimulating each other with their usual

  watchword, 'Courage, friend! It is to eat macaroni!' they press

  on, gallantly, for the summit.

  From tingeing the top of the snow above us, with a band of light,

  and pouring it in a stream through the valley below, while we have

  been ascending in the dark, the moon soon lights the whole white

  mountain-side, and the broad sea down below, and tiny Naples in the

  distance, and every village in the country round. The whole

  prospect is in this lovely state, when we come upon the platform on

  the mountain-top - the region of Fire - an exhausted crater formed

  of great masses of gigantic cinders, like blocks of stone from some

  tremendous waterfall, burnt up; from every chink and crevice of

  which, hot, sulphurous smoke is pouring out: while, from another

  conical-shaped hill, the present crater, rising abruptly from this

  platform at the end, great sheets of fire are streaming forth:

  reddening the night with flame, blackening it with smoke, and

  spotting it with red-hot stones and cinders, that fly up into the

  air like feathers, and fall down like lead. What words can paint

  the gloom and grandeur of this scene!

  The broken ground; the smoke; the sense of suffocation from the

  sulphur: the fear of falling down through the crevices in the

  yawning ground; the stopping, every now and then, for somebody who

  is missing in the dark (for the dense smoke now obscures the moon);

  the intolerable noise of the thirty; and the hoarse roaring of the

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  mountain; make it a scene of such confusion, at the same time, that

  we reel again. But, dragging the ladies through it, and across

  another exhausted crater to the foot of the present Volcano, we

  approach close to it on the windy side, and then sit down among the

  hot ashes at its foot, and look up in silence; faintly estimating

  the action that is going on within, from its being full a hundred

  feet higher, at this minute, than it was six weeks ago.

  There is something in the fire and roar, that generates an

  irresistible desire to get nearer to it. We cannot rest long,

  without starting off, two of us, on our hands and knees,

  accompanied by the head-guide, to climb to the brim of the flaming

  crater, and try to look in. Meanwhile, the thirty yell, as with

  one voice, that it is a dangerous proceeding, and call to us to

  come back; frightening the rest of the party out of their wits.

  What with their noise, and what with the trembling of the thin

  crust of ground, that seems about to open underneath our feet and

  plunge us in the burning gulf below (which is the real danger, if

  there be any); and what with the flashing of the fire in our faces,

  and the shower of red-hot ashes that is raining down, and the

  choking smoke and sulphur; we may well feel giddy and irrational,

  like drunken men. But, we contrive to climb up to the brim, and

  look down, for a moment, into the Hell of boiling fire below.

  Then, we all three come rolling down; blackened, and singed, and

  scorched, and hot, and giddy: and each with his dress alight in

  half-a-dozen places.

  You have read, a thousand times, that the usual way of descending,

  is, by sliding down the ashes: which, forming a graduallyincreasing

  ledge below the feet, prevent too rapid a descent. But,

  when we have crossed the two exhausted craters on our way back and

&nb
sp; are come to this precipitous place, there is (as Mr. Pickle has

  foretold) no vestige of ashes to be seen; the whole being a smooth

  sheet of ice.

  In this dilemma, ten or a dozen of the guides cautiously join

  hands, and make a chain of men; of whom the foremost beat, as well

  as they can, a rough track with their sticks, down which we prepare

  to follow. The way being fearfully steep, and none of the party:

  even of the thirty: being able to keep their feet for six paces

  together, the ladies are taken out of their litters, and placed,

  each between two careful persons; while others of the thirty hold

  by their skirts, to prevent their falling forward - a necessary

  precaution, tending to the immediate and hopeless dilapidation of

  their apparel. The rather heavy gentleman is abjured to leave his

  litter too, and be escorted in a similar manner; but he resolves to

  be brought down as he was brought up, on the principle that his

  fifteen bearers are not likely to tumble all at once, and that he

  is safer so, than trusting to his own legs.

  In this order, we begin the descent: sometimes on foot, sometimes

  shuffling on the ice: always proceeding much more quietly and

  slowly, than on our upward way: and constantly alarmed by the

  falling among us of somebody from behind, who endangers the footing

  of the whole party, and clings pertinaciously to anybody's ankles.

  It is impossible for the litter to be in advance, too, as the track

  has to be made; and its appearance behind us, overhead - with some

  one or other of the bearers always down, and the rather heavy

  gentleman with his legs always in the air - is very threatening and

  frightful. We have gone on thus, a very little way, painfully and

  anxiously, but quite merrily, and regarding it as a great success -

  and have all fallen several times, and have all been stopped,

  somehow or other, as we were sliding away - when Mr. Pickle of

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  Portici, in the act of remarking on these uncommon circumstances as

  quite beyond his experience, stumbles, falls, disengages himself,

  with quick presence of mind, from those about him, plunges away

  head foremost, and rolls, over and over, down the whole surface of

  the cone!

  Sickening as it is to look, and be so powerless to help him, I see

  him there, in the moonlight - I have had such a dream often -

 

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