“He launched some quadriremes, and embarked for the purpose of assisting, not Retina only, but others; for the beauty of the coast had attracted a large population. He hastened to the spot whence others were flying, and steered a direct course to the point of danger, so fearlessly that he observed all the phases and forms of that sad calamity, and dictated his remarks on them to his secretary. Soon ashes fell on the decks, and the nearer he approached the hotter and thicker they became. With them were mingled scorched and blackened pumice-stones, and stones split by fire. Now the sudden reflux of the sea, and the fragments of the volcano which covered the coast, presented an obstacle to his progress, and he hesitated for awhile whether he should not return. At length, when his sailing-master recommended him to do so, he exclaimed, ‘Fortune favours the brave—steer for the villa of Pomponianus.’
“This was situated at Stabiæ, and was divided from the coast near Vesuvius by an inlet or gulf formed by the sea. His friend, although danger was not yet imminent, yet, as it was within sight, and would be very near if it increased, had put his baggage on board of a ship, and had determined on flight if the wind, which was then contrary, should lull. A fair wind carried my uncle thither. He embraced his trembling friend, consoled and encouraged him. In order to assuage his fears by showing his own unconcern, he caused himself to be carried to a bath: after bathing, he sat down to supper with cheerfulness, or, what is almost the same thing, with the appearance of it. Meanwhile from many parts of the volcano broad flames burst forth: the blaze was reflected from the sky, and the glare and brightness were enhanced by the darkness of the night. He, to soothe the alarm of Pomponianus, endeavoured to persuade him that what he saw was only the burning villages which the country people had deserted in their consternation. He then retired to rest and slept soundly; for his snoring, which on account of his broad chest was deep and resonant, was heard by those who were watching at the door.
“Soon the court through which there was access to his apartment was so choked with cinders and pumice that longer delay would have rendered escape impossible. He was awakened; and went to Pomponianus and the rest, who had sat up all night. They then held a consultation whether they should remain in the house or go into the open fields. For repeated shocks of an earthquake made the houses rock to and fro, and seemed to move them from their foundations; whilst in the air the fall of half-burnt pumice, though light, menaced danger. After balancing the two dangers, he chose the latter course: with him, however, it was a comparison of reasons, with others of fears. They tied cushions over their heads with towels, to protect them from the falling stones. Although it was now day elsewhere, the darkness here was denser than the darkest night, broken only by torches and lights of different kinds. They next walked out to the coast to see whether the sea was calm enough to venture upon it, but it was still a waste of stormy waters. Then he spread a linen cloth and lay down upon it, asked for two or three draughts of cold water; and, afterwards, flames, and that sulphureous smell which is the forerunner of them, put his companions to flight and aroused him.
“He arose by the assistance of two slaves, and immediately fell down dead, suffocated as I imagine by the dense vapour, and the functions of his stomach being disordered, which were naturally weak, and liable to obstructions and difficulty of digestion. On the morning of the third day after his body was found entire, uninjured, and in the clothes in which he died: its appearance was rather that of sleep than death.”
Pliny the Younger was left with his mother at Misenum; and in another letter he gives an account of the appearance of the eruption at that place:[[1273]]—
“After my uncle’s departure, I spent some time in study (for that was my object in remaining behind:) I then bathed and supped, and had some broken and restless sleep. For many days previously shocks of an earthquake had been felt; but they caused less alarm because they are usual in Campania; but on that night they were so violent that it was thought they would not only shake but overturn everything. My mother burst into my bed-chamber—I was just rising in order to arouse her, in case she should be asleep. We sat down in the court which divided the house from the sea. I know not whether to call this courage or imprudence, for I was only in my eighteenth year. I asked for a volume of Livy, and began to read it leisurely and to make extracts.
“Well! a friend of my uncle came in who had lately arrived from Spain, and when he saw us sitting together, and me reading, he rebuked his patience and my ‘insouciance.’ Still I was not the less for that absorbed in my book. It was now seven o’clock, and the dawn broke faintly and languidly. The surrounding buildings were tottering; and the space in which we were, being limited in extent, there was great reason to fear their fall. We then resolved to leave town. The populace followed in alarm.
“When at a sufficient distance from the buildings we halted, and witnessed many a wonderful and alarming phenomenon. The carriages which we had ordered to be brought out, although the ground was very level, rolled in different directions, and even stones placed under the wheels could not stop them. The sea ebbed and seemed to be repelled by the earthquake. The coast certainly had advanced, and detained many marine animals on dry land. On the other side of the heavens hung a dark and awful cloud, riven by wreathed and quivering lines of fiery vapour, in long flashes resembling lightning, but larger. Then our friend from Spain exclaimed, with eagerness and vehemence, ‘If your relative lives, he doubtless wishes your safety; if he has perished, he wished you to survive him. Why then do you delay to escape?’ Our answer was, ‘We will not think of our own safety so long as we are uncertain of his.’ Without any more delay he hurried off, and was soon beyond the reach of danger. Soon the cloud descended to the earth, and brooded over the sea; it shrouded Capreæ, and hid from our eyes the promontory of Misenum. My mother besought, entreated, nay, commanded me to fly by all means; she felt that, weighed down by years and infirmity, she should die contented if she had not been the cause of my death. I, on the other hand, persisted that I would not seek safety except with her. I took her by the hand and forced her to go forward. She obeyed reluctantly, and blamed herself for delaying me. Ashes now began to fall, though as yet in small quantities. I looked back; behind us was thick darkness, which poured over the earth like a torrent. ‘Let us turn aside from the road,’ said I, ‘whilst we can see, for fear we should be thrown down and trampled under foot by the crowd in the darkness.’ We had scarce time to [think about it] [sit down] when we were enveloped in darkness, not like that of a moonless night, or clouds, but like that of a room shut up when the lights are extinguished. Then were heard the shrieks of women, the wailings of infants, the shouts of men; some were calling for their parents, others for their children, others for their wives, whom they could only recognise by their voices. Some bewailed their own misfortune, others that of their family; some even from the fear of death prayed for death. Many lifted up their hands to the gods; still more believed that there were no gods, and that the last eternal night had overwhelmed the world. There were not wanting some to increase the real danger by fictitious and imaginary terrors; and some brought word that the conflagration was at Misenum: the false intelligence met with credence. By degrees the light returned; but it seemed to us not the return of day, but the indication that the fire was approaching. Its progress, however, was arrested at some distance: again darkness succeeded with showers of ashes. Every now and then we got up and shook them off from us, otherwise we should have been overwhelmed and bruised by their weight. I might boast that not a groan or unmanly expression escaped me in the midst of my dangers, were it not that my firmness was founded on the consolatory belief that all mankind was involved, together with myself, in one common ruin. At length the darkness cleared up, and dispersed like smoke or mist. Real daylight succeeded; even the sun shone forth, but with a lurid light as when eclipsed. The aspect of everything which met our astonished eyes was changed: ashes covered the ground like a deep snow. We returned to Misenum, and refreshed ourselves, and passed an anxious night in alternate hopes and fears: the latter, however, predominated. The earthquake still continued; and many, in a state of frenzy, made a mockery of their own and their neighbours’ misfortunes by terrific prophecies.” The above letters, though long, have been quoted because they detail, in the most interesting manner, the circumstances of the elder Pliny’s death, and at the same time illustrate the simple and graphic power of the nephew’s pen.
The Natural Philosophy of Pliny is, to say the least, an unequalled monument of studious diligence and persevering industry. It consists of thirty-seven books, and contains, according to his own account,[[1274]] 20,000 facts (as he believed them to be) connected with nature and art: the result, not of original research, but, as he honestly confessed, culled from the labours of other men. It must, however, be allowed that the confused arrangement is owing partly to the indefinite state of science, and the consequent mingling together of branches which are separate and distinct.[[1275]]
Owing to the extent and variety of his reading, his credulous love of the marvellous, and his want of judgment in comparing and selecting, he does not present us with a correct view of the degree of truth to which science had attained in his own age. He does not show how one age had corrected the errors of a preceding one; but reproduces errors, evidently obsolete and inconsistent with facts and theories which had grown up afterwards and replaced them.