In succeeding eruptions much lava was poured out; and in A. D. 472, ashes were cast over a great part of Europe, so that much fear was caused at Constantinople. The buried cities were more and more covered up, and it was not until about A. D. 1700 that, as above stated, the city of Herculaneum was discovered, the peasants of the vicinity being in the habit of extracting marble from its ruins. They had also, in the course of years, found many statues. In consequence, an excavation was ordered by Charles III, the earliest result being the discovery of the theatre, with the statues above named. The work of excavation, however, has not progressed far in this city, on account of its extreme difficulty, though various excellent specimens of art-work have been discovered, including the finest examples of mural painting extant from antiquity. The library was also discovered, 1803 papyri being found. Though these had been charred to cinder, and were very difficult to unroll and decipher, over 300 of them have been read.
PLINY’S CELEBRATED DESCRIPTION
Pliny the Younger, to whom we are indebted for the only contemporary account of the great eruption under consideration, was at the time of its occurrence resident with his mother at Misenum, where the Roman fleet lay, under the command of his uncle, the great author of the “Historia Naturalis”. His account, contained in two letters to Tacitus (lib. vi. 16, 20), is not so much a narrative of the eruption, as a record of his uncle’s singular death, yet it is of great interest as yielding the impressions of an observer. The translation which follows is adopted from the very free version of Melmoth, except in one or two places, where it differs much from the ordinary text. The letters are given entire, though some parts are rather specimens of style than good examples of description.
“Your request that I should send 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 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 mention of him in your immortal works will greatly contribute to eternize his name. Happy I esteem those to be, whom Providence has distinguished with the abilities either of doing such actions as are worthy of being related, or of relating them in a manner worthy of being read; but doubly happy are they who are blessed with both these talents; in the number of which my uncle, as his own writings and your history will prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme willingness, therefore, that I execute your commands; and should, indeed, have claimed 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 returned from taking the benefit of the sun, and, after bathing himself in cold water, and taking a slight repast, had retired to his study. He immediately arose, and went out upon an eminence, from whence he might more distinctly view this very uncommon appearance. It was not at that distance discernible from what mountain the cloud issued, but it was found afterward to ascend from Mount Vesuvius. I cannot give a more exact description of its figure than by comparing it to that of a pine tree, for it shot up to a great height in the form of a trunk, which extended itself 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 upwards, or the cloud itself being pressed back again by its own weight, and expanding in this manner: it appeared sometimes bright, and sometimes dark and spotted, as it was more or less impregnated with earth and cinders.
“This extraordinary phenomenon excited my uncle’s philosophical curiosity to take a nearer view of it. He ordered a light vessel to be got ready, and gave me the liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I rather chose to continue my studies, for, as it happened, he had given me an employment of that kind. As he was passing out of the house he received dispatches: the marines at Retina, terrified at the imminent peril (for the place lay beneath the mountain, and there was no retreat but by ships), entreated his aid in this extremity. He accordingly changed his first design, and what he began with a philosophical he pursued with an heroical turn of mind.”
THE VOYAGE TO STABIAE
“He ordered the galleys to put to sea, and went himself on board with an intention of assisting not only Retina but many other places, for the population is thick on that beautiful coast. When hastening to the place from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered a 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 motion and figure of that dreadful scene. He was now so nigh 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 of not only being left 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 return back again; to which the pilot advised him. ‘Fortune,’ said he, ‘favors the brave; carry me to Pomponianus.’ Pomponianus was then at Stabiae, separated by a gulf, which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms upon the shore. He (Pomponianus) had already sent his baggage on board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet being within view 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 should change. It was favorable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest consternation. He embraced him with tenderness, encouraging and exhorting him to keep up his spirits; and the more to dissipate his fears he ordered, with an air of unconcern, the baths to be got ready; when, after having bathed, he sat down to supper with great cheerfulness, or at least (what is equally heroic) with all the appearance of it.
“In the meantime, the eruption from Mount Vesuvius flamed out in several places with much violence, which the darkness of the night contributed to render still more visible and dreadful. 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 was most certain he was so little discomposed as to fall into a deep sleep; for, being pretty fat, and breathing hard, those who attended without actually heard him snore. The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and ashes, if he had continued there any longer it would have been impossible for him to have made his way out; it was thought proper, therefore, to awaken him. He got up and went to Pomponianus and the rest of his company, who were not unconcerned enough 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 to fly to the open fields, where the calcined stone and cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in large showers and threatened 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 it by their fears, my uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate consideration.