went himself on board, with an intention of assisting, not only Retina,
but the several other towns, which stood thick upon that beautiful
coast.
“‘Hastening to the place, therefore, from which others fled with the
utmost terror, he steered his direct course 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 appearance and progress of that
dreadful scene. He was now so near the mountain, that the cinders, which
grew thicker and stronger the more he advanced, fell into the ships;
together with pumice-stone and black pieces of burning rock. They were,
likewise, in danger of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea;
and also from the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountains,
and obstructed all the shore. Here he stopped, to consider whether he
should return back. On which the pilot addressing him, ‘Fortune,’ said
he, ‘attends the brave: steer to Pompianus.’
“‘Pompianus was then at Stabiæ, (now called Castel è nar di Stabia, in
the gulf of Naples,) separated by a gulf, which the sea, after several
windings, forms upon that shore.
“‘Pompianus had already sent his baggage on board; for though he was not
at the time in actual danger, yet, being within the view of it, and
indeed extremely near, he was determined, if it should in the least
increase, to put to sea as soon as the wind should change. It was
favourable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pompianus, whom he found
in the greatest consternation; and, embracing him with tenderness, he
encouraged and exhorted him to keep up his spirits. The more to
dissipate his fears, he ordered his servants, with an air of unconcern,
to carry him to the baths; and, having bathed, he sat down to supper
(with great, or at least what is equally heroic) with all the appearance
of cheerfulness. In the meanwhile, the fire from Vesuvius flamed forth,
from several parts of the mountain, with great violence; which the
darkness of the night contributed to render still more visible and
dreadful. But my uncle, in order to calm the apprehensions of his
friend, assured him it was only the conflagration of the villages, which
the country people had abandoned. After this he retired to rest, and, it
is most certain, was so little discomposed as to fall into a deep sleep;
for being corpulent, and breathing hard, the attendants in the
anti-chamber actually heard him snore.
“‘The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with
stones and ashes, it would have been impossible for him, if he had
continued there any longer, to have made his way out; it was thought
proper, therefore, to awaken him. He got up, and joined Pompianus and
the rest of the company, who had not been sufficiently unconcerned to
think of going to bed. They consulted together, whether it would be most
prudent to trust to the houses, which now shook from side to side, with
frequent and violent concussions; or flee to the open fields, where the
calcined stones and cinders, though levigated indeed, yet fell in large
showers, threatening them with instant destruction. In this distress
they resolved for the fields, as the less dangerous situation of the
two: a resolution which, while the rest of the company were hurried into
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 the whole defence against the storm of stones
that fell around them.
“‘It was now day every where else; but _there_ a deeper darkness
prevailed than in the blackest night; which was, however, in some
degree, dissipated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They
thought it expedient to go down further upon the shore, in order to
observe if they might safely put out to sea; but they found the waves
still run extremely high and boisterous.
“‘There my uncle, having drunk a draught or two of cold water, laid
himself down upon a sail-cloth, which was spread for him; when,
immediately, the flames, preceded by a strong smell of sulphur,
dispersed the rest of the company, and obliged him to rise. He raised
himself with the assistance of the servants, and instantly fell down
dead; suffocated, I suppose, by some great and noxious vapour, having
always had weak lungs, and frequently subject to a difficulty of
breathing. 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, exactly in the same posture in which he
fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead.’”
“And what became of the younger Pliny, Sir?” asked Ann, “during this
dreadful scene.”
“I will give you his narration in his own words,” answered Mr. Wilmot.
“‘My uncle having left us, I continued the employment which prevented my
going with him, till it was time to bathe: after which, I went to
supper, and then fell into a short and uneasy sleep. There had, during
many days before, been some shocks of an earthquake, which the less
alarmed us, as they are frequent in Campania; but they were so
particularly violent that night, that they not only shook every thing
about us, but seemed to threaten total destruction. My mother flew to my
chamber, where she found me rising in order to awaken her. We went out
into a small court belonging to the house, which separated the sea from
the buildings.
“‘As I was at that time but eighteen years of age, I know not whether I
can call my behaviour, in this perilous conjuncture, courage or
rashness; but I took up Livy, and amused myself with turning over that
author, and even in making extracts from him, as if I had been perfectly
at my ease. While we were in that situation, a friend of my uncle’s, who
was just come from Spain to pay him a visit, joined us; and observing me
sitting by my mother, with a book in my hand, reproved her patience and
my security: nevertheless, I still went on with my author.
“‘It was now morning, but the light was exceedingly faint and languid;
the buildings all around 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 leave the town. The
people followed us in the utmost consternation, and (as to a mind
distracted with terror, every suggestion seems more prudent than its
own) pressed in great crowds about us, in our way out. Being advanced at
a considerable distance from the houses, we stood still, in the midst of
a most hazardous and tremendous scene. The chariots which we had ordered
out, were so agitated backwards and forwards, 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 the
banks by the convulsive motion of the earth: it is certain, at least,
that the shore was considerably enlarged, and several sea-animals were
left upon it.
“‘On the other side, a black and dreadful cloud, bursting with an
igneous serpentine vapour, darted out a long train of fire, resembling
flashes of lightning, but much longer. Upon this, our Spanish friend,
whom I mentioned above, addressing himself to my mother and me with
great warmth and earnestness, said, ‘If your brother and your uncle is
safe, he earnestly wishes that you may be so too; but if he perished, it
was, doubtless, his desire that you might both survive him. Why,
therefore, do you delay your escape a moment?’
“‘We could never think of our own safety,’ we replied, ‘whilst we were
uncertain of his.’ Upon which our friend left us, and withdrew from the
danger with the utmost precipitation. Soon afterwards, the cloud seemed
to descend and cover the whole ocean; as, indeed, it entirely hid the
island of Caprea, (an island near Naples, _now_ called Capri,) and the
promontory of Misenum. My mother conjured me to make my escape any way,
which, as I was young, I might easily effect. 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 cause of mine. But I
resolutely refused to leave her, and taking her by the hand, led her on.
She complied with great reluctance, and not without many reproaches to
herself, for being the occasion of retarding my flight.
“‘The ashes now began to fall upon us, though in no great quantity. I
turned my head, and observed behind me a thick smoke, which came rolling
after us like a torrent. I proposed, while we had yet any light, to turn
out of the high road, lest she should be pressed to death by the crowd
that followed us.
“‘We had scarcely stepped out of the path when darkness overspread us:
not like that of a cloudy night, or when there is no moon; but of a room
that is shut up, and all the lights extinct. Nothing then was to be
heard but the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the cries
of men; some calling for their children, others for their husbands,
others for their parents, and only distinguishing them by their voices.
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 greatest part imagining that the last and eternal night was
come, which was to destroy the gods and the world together. Amongst
these, were some who augmented the real terrors by imaginary ones, and
made the frighted multitude believe that Misenum was actually in flames.
“‘At length a glimmering light appeared, which we imagined rather the
forerunner of another burst of flame, (as in fact it was,) than the
return of day. However, the fire fell at a distance from us; and 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 shake off,
otherwise we should have been overwhelmed and buried in the heap.
“‘I might boast that, during all this scene of horror, not a sigh or
expression of fear escaped from me, had not my support been founded on
that miserable, though strong consolation, that all mankind were
involved in the same calamity, and that I imagined that I was perishing
with the world itself. At last this terrible darkness was dissipated by
degrees, like a cloud or smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun
appeared, though very faintly, as when an eclipse is coming on. Every
object which presented itself to our eyes (which were extremely
weakened) seemed changed, being covered with white ashes, as with a deep
snow.
“‘We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we
could, and passed our anxious night between hope and fear: though,
indeed, with a much larger share of the latter; for the earth still
continued to shake, while several enthusiastic persons ran wildly among
the people, and making a kind of frantic sport of their own and their
friends’ wretched situation. However, my mother and I, notwithstanding
the danger we had passed, and that which threatened us, had no intention
of leaving Misenum till we should receive some account of my uncle.’”
“How singular it was,” said Susan, “that Pliny should read an historical
work, at a moment of such imminent danger. Do you call it fortitude,
Sir?”
“I am something, my dear, of lord Lyttelton’s opinion, respecting this
part of this really amiable man’s conduct: ‘That, when all nature seemed
falling into final destruction, to be reading Livy and making extracts
was an absurd affectation. To meet danger with courage is manly, but to
be insensible to it is brutal stupidity; and to pretend insensibility
where it cannot be supposed, is ridiculous falseness.’”
“But his conduct, in refusing to leave his mother, you will allow, was
noble,” remarked Mrs. Spencer.
“Undoubtedly it was a beautiful act of filial piety; and whilst I have
passed a censure on the one act mentioned, I wish it to be remembered,
that no Roman ever excelled him in sincere integrity of heart and
greatness of sentiment; although there was a mixture of vanity blended
with his virtue, which impaired and disgraced it.”
“I think, Sir,” said Ann, “you spoke of some cities being destroyed at
this time.”
“Yes, my dear, and Herculaneum was one. Like Pompeii and other cities,
it was thought to be utterly destroyed, till the beginning of the
eighteenth century, when it was discovered; and many of the houses were
found perfectly furnished, and the furniture in good preservation.”
“Do volcanic eruptions ever occur in other countries?” asked Susan.
“The principal apertures of this kind,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “besides
Vesuvius, are, Etna in Sicily; Stromboli, one of the Lipari Islands,
north of Sicily; and Hecla in Iceland.
“So late as the year 1783, a volcanic eruption in Iceland surpassed any
thing recorded in history. The lava spouted up to the height of two
miles perpendicular, and continued thus for two months; during which
time it covered a tract of three thousand six hundred square miles of
ground, in some places more than one hundred feet deep; and this
tremendous visitation was followed by a train of consequences, the most
direful and melancholy, some of which continue to be felt to this day.
“Immense floods of red hot lava were poured down from the hills, with
amazing velocity; and, spreading over the low country, burnt up men,
cattle, churches, houses, and every thing they attacked in their
progress. Not only was all vegetation in the immediate neighbourhood of
the volcano destroyed, by the ashes, brimstone, and pumice which it
emitted; but, it being thrown up to an inconceivable height in the
atmosphere, they were scattered over the whole island; impregnating the
air with noxious vapours, intercepting the genial rays of the sun, and
empoisoning whatever could satisfy the hunger or quench the thirst, of
man or beast. Even in some of the more distant districts, the quantity
of ashes that fell was so great, that they were gathered up by handsful.
Upwards of four hundred people were deprived instantly of a home; the
fish were driven from the coasts; and the elements seemed to vie with
each other, which should commit the greatest depredations: famine and
pestilence stalked abroad, and cut down their victims with ruthless
cruelty, while death himself was glutted with the prey. In some houses
there was scarcely a sound individual left to tend the afflicted, or any
who possessed sufficient strength to inter the dead.
“The most miserably emaciated tottering skeletons were seen in every
quarter. When the animals that had died of disease and hunger were
consumed, the wretched creatures had nothing to eat but raw hides, and
old pieces of leather and ropes, which they boiled, and devoured with
avidity. The horses eat the flesh off one another; and, for want of
other sustenance, had recourse to turf, wood, and even excrementitious
substances; while the sheep devoured each other’s wool. In a word, the
accumulation of miseries originating in the volcanic eruption, was so
dreadful, that, in the short space of two years, not fewer than 9336
human beings, 28,000 horses, 11,461 head of cattle, and 190,488 sheep,
perished on the island.
“Such is Dr. Henderson’s account of this melancholy calamity; a
visitation which was awful in its nature, and unparalleled in its
horrors.”
“What a blessing it is,” said Ann, “that we live in England, where no
troubles of the kind ever assail us.”
“Cherish the feeling of thankfulness, my dear girl,” said Mr. Wilmot;
“for it is indeed a favoured—a privileged country. And here,” said he,
turning to a full-length portrait of George the Third, “is the picture
of our late venerable monarch; whose benevolent wish, that every child
in his dominions might possess a Bible, and be able to read it, deserves
to be transmitted from sire to son.
“The ornament of his domestic circle, his gentle and pious daughter, was
taken from him; and his reason lasted only to receive her last farewell,
and mingle his blessings with her dying accents.
“Let us compare the experience of this Christian king with that of
Abdalrahman, one of the greatest monarchs of his line.
“Cordova, the place of his residence, displayed 600 mosques, 900 baths,
and 200,000 houses; and the caliph gave laws to eighty cities of the
first, and to three hundred of the second and third order: and twelve
thousand villages and hamlets decorated the beautiful banks of the
Guadalquiver.
“Three miles from Cordova, in honour of his favourite sultana, the third
and greatest of the Abdalrahmans constructed the city, palace, and
gardens of Jehrar.
“Twenty-five years, and about three millions sterling, were employed by
the founder. His liberal taste invited the most skilful sculptors and
architects of the age; and the buildings were sustained or adorned by
twelve hundred columns of Spanish and African, of Greek and Italian
marble.
“The hall of audience was encrusted with gold and pearls; and a great
basin in the centre was surrounded with the curious and costly figures
of birds and quadrupeds.
“In a lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of those basins and fountains,
so delightful in a sultry climate, was replenished, not with water, but
with the purest quicksilver.
“The seraglio of Abdalrahman, his wives, and concubines, and eunuchs,
amounted to six thousand three hundred persons; and he was attended to
the field by a guard of twelve thousand horse, whose belts and scimeters
were studded with gold.
“Our imagination is dazzled by the splendid picture, (says Gibbon,) and
whatever may be the cool dictates of reason, there are few among us who
would obstinately refuse a trial of the comforts and cares of royalty.
It may, therefore, be of some use to borrow the experience of the same
Abdalrahman, whose magnificence has, perhaps, excited our admiration and
envy, and to transcribe an authentic memorial, which was found in the
closet of the deceased caliph.
“‘I have now reigned above fifty years, in victory or peace, beloved by
my subjects, and dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies.
Riches and honour, power and pleasure, have waited on my call: nor does
any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this
situation I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine
happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to _fourteen_. O man!
place not thy confidence in this present world.’
“I will conclude this morning’s entertainment with a few lines by the
princess Amelia, whom I mentioned to you in my notice of our late
excellent monarch.”
‘Unthinking, idle, wild, and young,
I laugh’d, and talk’d, and danc’d, and sung;
And, proud of health, of freedom vain,
Dreamt not of sickness, care, and pain;
Concluding, in these hours of glee,
That all the world was made for me.
‘But when the days of trouble came;
When sickness shook this trembling frame;
When pleasure’s gay pursuits were o’er,
And I could dance and sing no more;
It then occurr’d, how sad ’twould would be,
Were this world _only_ made for me.’
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAP. X.
----------
“PRAY, Sir,” said Susan, “what place does this gloomy picture describe?”
“It is a drawing of the monastery of La Trappe,” answered Mr. Wilmot;
“remarkable for the austerity of its monks, and celebrated, in ancient
times, as the residence of the learned but licentious Abelard; and, in
more modern, by the singular reformation and self-devotedness of
Monsieur de Rancé.
“I will give you an account of it, as described by a gentleman who
visited it in 1819.
“The situation of this monastery was well adapted to the founder’s
views, and to suggest the name it originally received of La Trappe, from
the intricacy of the road which descends to it, and the difficulty of
access and egress, which exists, even to this day, though the woods have
been very much thinned since the French revolution. Perhaps there never
was any thing in the whole universe better calculated to inspire
religious awe, than the first view of this monastery: it was imposing
even to breathlessness.
“The total solitude, the undisturbed and chilling silence, which seem to
have ever slept over the dark and ancient woods; the still lakes,
reflecting the deep solemnity of the objects around them;—all impress a
peaceful image of utter seclusion and hopeless separation from living
man; and appear formed at once to court and gratify the sternest
austerities of devotion—to humour the wildest fancies, and promote the
gloomiest schemes of penance and privation.
“In ascending the steep and intricate path, the traveller frequently
loses sight of the abbey until he has actually reached the bottom; then,
emerging from the wood, the following inscription is seen, carved on a
wooden cross:
‘C’est ici que la mort et que la verité
Elevent leurs flambeaux terribles;
C’est de cette demeure, au monde inaccessible,
Que l’on passe à l’éternité.’
“A venerable grove of oaks, which formerly surrounded the monastery, was
cut down in the Revolution. In the gateway of the outer court is a
statue of St. Bernard, which has been mutilated by the republicans: he
is holding in one hand a church, and in the other a spade, the emblems
of devotion and labour. This gateway leads into a court, which opens
into a second enclosure; and around that, are granaries, stables,
bakehouses, and other offices necessary to the abbey, which have all
been happily preserved.
“On entering the gate, a lay-brother received me on his knees, and, in a
low and whispering voice, informed me they were at vespers. The
stateliness and gloom of the building; (the last rays of the sun
scarcely penetrated through its windows;) the deep tones of the monks,
chaunting the responses, which occasionally broke the silence, filled me
with reverential emotions, which I was unwilling to disturb. It was
necessary, however, to present my letter of introduction; and friar
Charles, the _secretaire_, soon after came out, and received me with
great civility.
“He requested that, in going over the convent, I would neither speak nor
ask him any questions, in those places where I saw him kneel, or in the
presence of any of the monks. I followed him to the chapel alone. As
soon as the service was over, the bell rung to summon them for supper.
“Ranged in double rows, with their heads enveloped in a large cowl, and
bent down to the earth, they chaunted the grace, and then seated
themselves. During the repast, one of them standing, read a passage of
Scripture, reminding them of death and the shortness of human existence.
Another went round the whole community, and, on his knees, kissed their
feet in succession; throwing himself prostrate on the floor, at
intervals, before the image of our Saviour. A third remained on his
knees the whole time, and in that attitude took his repast. These
penitents had committed some fault, or neglected their religious duties;
which, according to the regulations, they had accused themselves of, and
were, in consequence, doomed to the above modes of penance. The
refectory was furnished with long wooden tables and benches. Each person
was provided with a trencher and a jug of water; and a cup, having on it
the name of the brother to whom it was appropriated: as, friar Paul,
friar Francis; and which name they assume on taking the order. Their
supper consisted of bread soaked in water, a little salt, and two raw
carrots placed by each: water is alone their beverage.
“The dinner is varied with a little cabbage or other vegetables: they
have very rarely any cheese, and never meat, fish, or eggs. The bread is
of the coarsest kind possible. Their bed is a small truckle boarded,
with a single covering, generally a blanket; no mattress or pillow; and,
as in the former time, no fire is allowed but one in the great hall,
which they never approach.