Pliny the Younger--Caius Plinius Caecilius Secundus--was
perhaps, the most cultivated and graceful man of letters of
the first century A.D. Literally a man of letters, he left
ten books of his "Epistles," which he himself
collected--probably even wrote with a view to
publication--and their fluent charm still pleases the taste
of the reader. One of his letters, written while he was
Governor of Bithynia, asks instructions from the Emperor
Trajan as to what policy should be pursued against the sect
of Christians.
In other epistles he tells two excellent ghost stories. But
the two letters which are most vital in their human
interest, and which record the most thrilling events, are
the two addressed to his friend, the historian Tacitus,
concerning the great eruption of Vesuvius on August 24, A.D.
79. Pliny was only seventeen years of age when he witnessed
this eruption, which destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum, and
in which his uncle, the elder Pliny, author of the
celebrated natural history, perished.
Until the year 79 Vesuvius was not suspected of being a
volcano. The mountain was covered with vegetation, and the
ancient crater was like a circular bowl scooped from the
summit. Then came the explosion which buried Pompeii and
Herculaneum. Never since has the volcano long remained
quiet. The most serious eruptions have been those of 203,
472, 512, 685, 983, 1066, 1631, 1779, 1794, 1822, 1855,
1865, 1872, 1878, 1880, 1895, and 1906.
Pliny's descriptions of the scenes on the slopes of the
vengeful volcano--the raining ashes; the fleeing, terrified
crowds--are as fresh and vivid to-day as those Roman
frescoes which it has been the good fortune of the modern
archeologist to uncover after two thousand years of burial
beneath the Vesuvian scoriae.
Letter No. 1.
Your request that I would send you an account of my uncle's death, in
order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my
acknowledgments, for if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen the
glory of it, I am well assured, will be rendered forever illustrious. And
notwithstanding he perished by a misfortune which, as it involved at the
same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and destroyed so many
populous cities, seems to promise him an everlasting remembrance;
notwithstanding he has himself composed many and lasting works, yet I am
persuaded the mentioning of him in your immortal writings will greatly
contribute to render his name immortal.
Happy I esteem those to be to whom by the provision of the gods has been
granted the ability either to do such actions as are worthy of being
related or to relate them in a manner worthy of being read; but peculiarly
happy are they who are blessed with both these uncommon talents, in the
number of which my uncle, as his own writings and your history will
evidently prove, may justly be ranked.
It is with extreme willingness, therefore, that I execute your commands,
and should indeed have demanded the task if you had not enjoined it. He
was at that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum.
On the 24th of August, about one in the afternoon, my mother desired him
to observe a cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He
had just taken a turn in the sun and, after bathing himself in cold water
and making a light luncheon, gone back to his books; he immediately arose
and went out upon a rising ground from whence he might get a better sight
of this very uncommon appearance.
A cloud, from which mountain was uncertain at this distance (but it was
found afterward to come from Mount Vesuvius), was ascending, the
appearance of which I cannot give you a more exact description of than by
likening it to that of a pine-tree, for it shot up to a great height in
the form of a very tall trunk, which spread itself out at the top into a
sort of branches, occasioned, I imagine, either by a sudden gust of air
that impelled it, the force of which decreased as it advanced upward, or
the cloud itself being pressed back again by its own weight, expanded in
the manner I have mentioned; it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes
dark and spotted, according as it was either more or less impregnated with
earth and cinders.
The Elder Pliny's Heroism.
This phenomenon seemed to a man of such learning and research as my uncle
extraordinary and worth further looking into. He ordered a light vessel to
be got ready, and gave me leave, if I liked, to accompany him. I said I
had rather go on with my work, and it so happened he had himself given me
something to write out.
As he was coming out of the house he received a note from Rectina, the
wife of Bassus, who was in the utmost alarm at the imminent danger which
threatened her, for her villa lying at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there
was no way of escape by sea; she earnestly entreated him, therefore, to
come to her assistance.
He accordingly changed his first intention, and what he had begun from a
philosophical he now carried out in a noble and generous spirit. He
ordered the galleys to put to sea, and went himself on board with an
intention of assisting not only Rectina, but the several towns which lay
thickly strewn along the beautiful coast.
Hastening then to the place from whence others fled with the utmost
terror, he steered his course direct to the point of danger, and with so
much calmness and presence of mind as to be able to make and dictate his
observations upon the motion and all the phenomena of that dreadful scene.
He was now so close to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker
and hotter the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with
pumice-stones and black pieces of burning rock; they were in danger, too,
not only of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from
the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountain and obstructed all
the shore.
Here he stopped to consider whether he should turn back again, to which,
the pilot advising him, "Fortune," said he, "favors the brave; steer to
where Pomponianus is." Pomponianus was then at Stabiae (Castellamare),
separated by a bay which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms
with the shore.
He had already sent his baggage on board, for though he was not at that
time in actual danger, yet being within sight of it, and indeed extremely
near, if it should in the least increase he was determined to put to sea
as soon as the wind, which was blowing dead inshore, should go down.
It was favorable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he
found in the greatest consternation. He embraced him tenderly, encouraging
and urging him to keep up his spirits, and, the more effectually to soothe
his fears by seeming unconcerned himself, ordered a bath to be got ready,
and then, after having bathed, sat down to supper with great cheerfulness,
or at least (what is just as heroic) with every appearance of it.
Meanwhile broad flames shone out in several places from Mount Vesuvius,
which the darkness of the night contributed to render still brighter and
clearer. But my uncle, in order to soothe the apprehensions of his friend,
assured him it was only the burning of the villages, which the country
people had abandoned to the flames; after this he retired to rest, and it
is most certain he was so little disquieted as to fall into a sound sleep,
for his breathing, which on account of his corpulence was rather heavy
and sonorous, was heard by the attendants outside.
The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones
and ashes, if he had continued there any time longer it would have been
impossible, for him to have made his way out.
So he was awakened and got up and went to Pomponianus and the rest of his
company, who were feeling too anxious to think of going to bed. They
consulted together whether it would be most prudent to trust to the
houses, which now rocked from side to side with frequent and violent
concussions as though shaken from their very foundations, or fly to the
open fields, where the calcined stones and cinders, though light indeed,
yet fell in large showers and threatened destruction.
Tied Pillows on Their Heads.
In this choice of dangers they resolved for the fields, a resolution
which, while the rest of the company were hurried into it by their fears,
my uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate consideration. They went out
then, having pillows tied upon their heads with napkins, and this was
their whole defense against the storm of stones that fell round them.
It was now day everywhere else, but there a deeper darkness prevailed than
in the thickest night, which, however, was in some degree alleviated by
torches and other lights of various kinds. They thought proper to go
farther down upon the shore to see if they might safely put to sea, but
found the waves still running extremely high and boisterous.
There my uncle, laying himself down upon a sailcloth which was spread for
him, called twice for some cold water, which he drank, when immediately
the flames, preceded by a strong whiff of sulfur, dispersed the rest of
the party and obliged him to rise.
He raised himself up with the assistance of two of his servants, and
instantly fell down dead, suffocated, as I conjecture, by some gross and
noxious vapor, having always had a weak throat, which was often inflamed.
As soon as it was light again, which was not till the third day after this
melancholy accident, his body was found entire, and without any marks of
violence upon it, in the dress in which he fell, and looking more like a
man asleep than dead.
During all this time my mother and I, who were at Misenum--but this has no
connection with your history, and you did not desire any particulars
besides those of my uncle's death, so I will end here, only adding that I
have faithfully related to you what I was either a witness of myself or
received the news of immediately after the accident happened, and before
there was time to vary the truth.
You will pick out of this narrative whatever is most important, for a
letter is one thing, a history another; it is one thing writing to a
friend, another writing to the public. Farewell.
Letter No. 2.
The letter which, in compliance with your request, I wrote to you
concerning the death of my uncle has raised, it seems, your curiosity to
know what terrors and dangers attended me while I continued at Misenum,
for there, I think, my account broke off.
Though my shock'd soul recoils, my tongue shall tell.
My uncle having left us, I spent such time as was left on my studies (it
was on their account, indeed, that I had stopped behind) till it was time
for my bath. After which I went to supper, and then fell into a short and
uneasy sleep.
There had been noticed for many days before a trembling of the earth,
which did not alarm us much, as this is quite an ordinary occurrence in
Campania, but it was so particularly violent that night that it not only
shook but overturned, as it would seem, everything about us.
My mother rushed into my chamber, where she found me rising, in order to
awaken her. We sat down in the open court of the house, which occupied a
small space between the buildings and the sea. As I was at that time but
eighteen years of age, I know not whether I should call my behavior in
this dangerous juncture courage or folly; but I took up Livy, and amused
myself with turning over that author, and even making extracts from him,
as if I had been perfectly at my leisure.
Just then a friend of my uncle, who had lately come to him from Spain,
joined us, and, observing me sitting by my mother with a book in my hand,
reproved her for her calmness and me at the same time for my careless
security; nevertheless, I went on with my author.
Though it was now morning, the light was still exceedingly faint and
doubtful; the buildings all around us tottered, and though we stood upon
open ground, yet as the place was narrow and confined there was no
remaining without imminent danger; we therefore resolved to quit the town.
Effects of the Earthquakes.
A panic-stricken crowd followed us, and (as to a mind distracted with
terror every suggestion seems more prudent than its own) pressed on us in
dense array to drive us forward as we came out. Being at a convenient
distance from the houses, we stood still in the midst of a most dangerous
and dreadful scene.
The chariots, which we had ordered to be drawn out, were so agitated
backward and forward, though upon the most level ground, that we could not
keep them steady even by supporting them with large stones. The sea seemed
to roll back upon itself and to be driven from its banks by the convulsive
motion of the earth; it is certain at least the shore was considerably
enlarged, and several sea animals were left upon it. On the other side a
black and dreadful cloud, broken with rapid, zigzag flashes, revealed
behind it variously shaped masses of flame; these last were like sheet
lightning, but much larger.
Upon this our Spanish friend, whom I mentioned above, addressed himself to
my mother and me with great energy and urgency. "If your brother," he
said, "if your uncle be safe, he certainly wishes you may be so, too; but
if he perished it was his desire, no doubt, that you might both survive
him; why, therefore, do you delay your escape a moment?" We could never
think of our own safety, we said, while we were uncertain of his.
Upon this our friend left us and withdrew from the danger with the utmost
precipitation. Soon afterward the cloud began to descend and cover the
sea. It had already surrounded and concealed the island of Capri and the
promontory of Misenum.
My mother now besought, urged, even commanded me to make my escape at any
rate, which, as I was young, I might easily do; as for herself, she said,
her age and corpulency rendered all attempts of that sort impossible;
however, she would willingly meet death if she could have the satisfaction
of seeing that she was not the occasion of mine. But I absolutely refused
to leave her, and, taking her by the hand, compelled her to go with me.
She complied with great reluctance, and not without many reproaches to
herself for retarding my flight.
The ashes now began to fall upon us, though in no great quantity. I looked
back; a dense, dark mist seemed to be following us, spreading itself over
the country like a cloud. "Let us turn out of the highroad," I said,
"while we can still see, for fear that, should we fall in the road, we
should be pressed to death in the dark by the crowds that are following
us."
We had scarcely sat down when night came upon us, not such as we have when
the sky is cloudy, or when there is no moon, but that of a room when it is
shut up and all the lights put out.
The Terror of the People.
You might hear the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the
shouts of men; some calling for their children, others for their parents,
others for their husbands, and seeking to recognize each other by the
voices that replied; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his
family; some wishing to die, from the very fear of dying; some lifting
their hands to the gods, but the greater part convinced that there were
now no gods at all, and that the final endless night of which we have
heard had come upon the world.
Among these there were some who augmented the real terrors by others
imaginary or wilfully invented. I remember some who declared that one part
of Misenum had fallen, that another was on fire; it was false, but they
found people to believe them.
It now grew rather lighter, which we imagined to be rather the forerunner
of an approaching burst of flames (as in truth it was) than the return of
day; however, the fire fell at a distance from us; then again we were
immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of ashes rained upon us,
which we were obliged every now and then to stand up to shake off,
otherwise we should have been crushed and buried in the heap.
I might boast that during all this scene of horror not a sigh or
expression of fear escaped me, had not my support been grounded in that
miserable though mighty consolation that all mankind were involved in the
same calamity, and that I was perishing with the world itself.
At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud or
smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun shone out, though with a
lurid light, as when an eclipse is coming on. Every object that presented
itself to our eyes (which were extremely weakened) seemed changed, being
covered deep with ashes as if with snow.
We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could,
and passed an anxious night between hope and fear, though indeed with a
much larger share of the latter, for the earthquake still continued, while
many frenzied persons ran up and down, heightening their own and their
friends' calamities by terrible predictions.
However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we had passed, and
that which still threatened us, had no thoughts of leaving the place till
we could receive some news of my uncle.
You will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in your
history, of which it is not in the least worthy, and indeed you must put
it down to your own request if it should appear not worth even the trouble
of a letter. Farewell.