ree
pools of hot steamy water, of a saline and sulphureous taste. Such was the
tranquil aspect of the Mountain as surveyed by the Abate Braccini in the
first half of the seventeenth century; to men of science signs of latent
energy were certainly not wanting, yet to the ignorant, careless peasants
of the hill-side and the scarcely less ignorant dwellers of the towns on
the seashore, the state of repose in which the Mountain had continued for
four or five generations suggested no fears or suspicions. Tilling of
vineyards, building of new houses, sinking of wells, went on apace as
cheerfully as though an eruption were an impossibility, till certain
unmistakable portents that occurred towards the close of the year 1631
roughly dissipated this spell of fancied security. Earthquakes, more or
less severe, began at this time to be felt along the whole of the volcanic
line stretching from Ischia to the eastern slopes of Vesuvius; the plain
within the crater of the Mountain began to heave and rise in an alarming
fashion, and the water in all the local wells sank mysteriously below
ground. The signs of some impending disaster coming from the heights above
were too strongly marked to be lightly disregarded; the idea of a volcanic
convulsion, though by this time a long-distant and vague memory, became so
terrifying to the dwellers on the mountain's flanks and in Torre del
Greco, Resina and the various towns that line the seaward base of the
Mountain, that the majority of the people removed themselves and their
property with all speed to places of safety. Nevertheless, despite the
warnings given by Nature and also by men of science and the royal
officials, many remained behind in their houses, and in consequence
perished, to the immense number, it is surmised, of 18,000. On the morning
of Wednesday, December 16th, the long threatened eruption burst forth in
earnest upon an expectant world. Amidst crashes like prolonged volleys of
artillery the people of Naples and the surrounding district beheld the
terrible pine-tree of smoke and ashes, described centuries ago by Pliny,
ascend from the south-western side of the summit of the Mountain, veiling
the sky for miles around, and so charged with electricity, that many were
even killed by the _ferilli_, or lightning flashes, that darted from the
smoking mass. The spectacle of the ominous pine-tree was at once followed
by a terrific rumbling and an ejection of lava, which after flowing down
th