Pliny the Younger (A.D. 62?–c.A.D.
113). Letters.
The Harvard
Classics. 1909–14. |
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| LXV. To
Tacitus |
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| 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 for ever 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 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 claimed the task if you had
not enjoined it. He was at that time with the fleet under his
command at Misenum. 1 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, 2 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 afterwards 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 upwards, 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. 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 but 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 carries out in a
noble and generous spirit. He ordered the galleys to be put to sea,
and went himself on board with an intention of assisting not only
Rectina, but the several other towns which lay thickly strewn along
that 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,
“favours the brave; steer to where Pomponianus is.” Pomponianus was
then at Stabić, 3
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
favourable, 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 awoke 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. In
this choice of dangers they resolved for the fields: as 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 their whole defence 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 out to sea, but found the
waves still running extremely high, and boisterous. There my uncle,
laying himself down upon a sail-cloth, which was spread for him,
called twice for some cold water, which he drank, when immediately
the flames, preceded by a strong whiff of sulphur, 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 vapour,
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 an eye-witness of myself
or received 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 thing
writing to the public. Farewell. |
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| Note 1. In the Bay of
Naples. [back] |
| Note 2. The Romans used to lie or
walk naked in the sun, after anointing their bodies with oil, which
was esteemed as greatly contributing to health, and therefore daily
practised by them. This custom, however, of anointing themselves, is
inveighed against by the satirists as in the number of their
luxurious indulgences: but since we find the elder Pliny here, and
the amiable Spurinna in a former letter, practising this method, we
cannot suppose the thing itself was esteemed unmanly, but only when
it was attended with some particular circumstances of an
over-refined delicacy. M. [back] |
| Note 3. Now called Castelamare,
in the Bay of Naples. M. [back] |
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