Blackwood's Edinburgh magazine, Vol. 93, No. 571, May, 1863Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh magazine, Vol. 93, No. 571, May, 1863
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
mountain. There, without having taken a mouthful of anything, he was
overtaken by a profound slumber, from which awakening suddenly, he saw
no longer before his eyes the likeness of the place where he had fallen
asleep, but a new heaven, a new soil, a new landscape: instead of a
hill-side covered with wood, there appeared a wall crossing the road,
and extending on each side for a great distance, with a very lofty gate.
Astonished at this new scene, he went to the gate to inquire where he
was. There he found a porter of the order of St Francis, a young man in
appearance. Many conjecture that this was St Antony of Padua. The porter
at first seemed to repulse him, but afterwards admitted him into the
courtyard, and guided him about. After a long circuit they arrived at a
great range of buildings breathing fire from every window.” In short,
the poor peasant was conducted, after the fashion of such visions,
through the mansions of hell and purgatory, where he saw, of course,
many of his acquaintance variously tormented. “At last, on the following
day, he was restored to himself, and to Vesuvius: and was ordered to
inform his countrymen that a great ruin was impending over them from
that mountain: wherefore they should address their vows and prayers to
God. On Easter Day, at noon, he came home, and was observed of many with
his dress sprinkled with ashes, his face burnt black, as if escaped from
a fire.” This was two years before the eruption, and during the interval
Camillo always told the same story; wherefore, after passing a long time
for either mad or drunk, he was finally raised to the dignity of a
prophet. At last, on the night of the 15th December, the ancient volcano
signalised his awakening by a feat of unrivalled grandeur. In
forty-eight hours of terrific struggles, he blew away the whole cap of
the mountain; so that, on the morning of the 18th, when the smoke at
last subsided, the Neapolitans beheld their familiar summit a thousand
feet lower than it had been before; while its southern face was seamed
by seven distinct rivers of fire, slowly rolling at several points into
the sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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