Pliny the Younger was a guest in the house of his uncle Pliny the Elder, a historian, scientist and man of encyclopaedic learning, who was commander of the naval base at Misenum. Later another great writer of history, Tacitus, asked Pliny the Younger to let him know what had happened.
My uncle was at Misenum where he was in command of the fleet. On 24 August, in the early afternoon, my mother drew his attention to a cloud of extraordinary shape and size.
He had taken a sunbath and then a cold bath, had had a light meal served to him in bed, and was at that moment studying. Having his shoes brought to him, he went up to a high place from which one could get an excellent view of the phenomenon.
A cloud was rising into the sky, of such shape and appearance that it could best be compared to a pine tree. For, rising up as on a very tall trunk, it then spread out into something like branches; and this was because, I suppose, raised by the wind at the very moment of its formation, then, as the wind dropped, left to itself or overcome by its own weight, it spread widely through the air, gradually dissolving, now bright white, now dirty and stained, according as it carried with it earth or ash. To my uncle, who was a most learned man, all this seemed an important phenomenon, worthy of closer observation, so he ordered a Liburnian vessel to be prepared and offered to take me with him if I wished. I replied that I preferred to study, for he himself had set me some writing to do.
As he was leaving the house, a note from Retina, the wife of Casco, was handed to him. Terrified by the imminent danger (for her villa lay low down and by now there was no other way of escape than to go on board a ship), she begged him to free her from so terrible a situation. My uncle then changed his plan and, with heroic courage, carried out for duty what he had set out to do for study. He ordered the quadriremes to be put to sea and went on board himself, intending to hasten to the aid not only of Retina but of many others, for that delightful stretch of coast was thickly populated. In great haste he steered towards the very place from which others were fleeing, sailing straight on, keeping the helm directed towards the place of danger, with a spirit so fearless that he dictated or noted down himself every new phase and every aspect of that terrible scourge as it appeared before his eyes.
Already ash was falling on the ships, hotter and thicker the nearer they drew; already pumice and black stones, burned and shattered by fire, were falling as well; then suddenly they found themselves in shallow water, and the shore, because of the boulders that had rolled down from the mountain, had become inaccessible. He hesitated for a moment whether he ought to turn back. Then he said to the helmsman who advised him to do so: “Fortune favours the bold; turn the prow towards Pomponiano’s villa at Stabiae!”
This place was on the other side of the bay (for the coast, gradually curving and bending, forms an inlet which the sea floods with its waters). There, when the danger was not yet imminent but had been seen and, as it grew, had drawn nearer, Pomponiano had put his baggage on board, resolved to flee if the contrary wind should calm down. The wind greatly favoured my uncle’s navigation, and as soon as he arrived he embraced his trembling friend, comforted and encouraged him and, in order to soothe his agitation by the example of his own calmness of mind, had himself taken to the baths; after washing he sat down at table and dined quietly, or—what is equally great—appearing completely at ease.
Meanwhile, in several parts of Vesuvius broad bands of fire and tall flames were blazing, whose glare and light were heightened by the darkness of the night. My uncle, to free their minds from fear, kept saying that what was burning were fires left alight by peasants in their headlong flight, and deserted villas burning in their solitude. Then he went to sleep, and actually slept, since his breathing, very heavy and loud because of the stoutness of his body, was heard by all who passed before the door of his room.
But the level of the courtyard, because of the great amount of ash mixed with pumice stones with which it had been filled, had risen so much that my uncle, if he had remained longer in the bedroom, would not have been able to get out. Woken up, he came out and joined Pomponiano and the others, who had spent the whole night without closing an eye. They consulted whether to stay in the house or try to go out into the open; for because of frequent and long earthquakes the house was trembling and seemed to sway backwards and forwards, as if shaken from its very foundations. Outside, however, there was the danger of falling pumice stones, even if they are light and porous. In the end, after weighing the dangers, they chose this latter course. In my uncle the more reasonable of the two solutions prevailed, in the others the stronger of their fears. They put pillows on their heads and tied them on with cloths, and this served them as protection against the stones falling from above.
While elsewhere it was day, there it was night, darker and thicker than all other nights, although it was lit up by flames and flashes. It was decided to go down to the shore to see at close hand whether it was possible to put out to sea; but the sea was still dangerous because it was stirred up by the storm. So a sheet was spread on the ground and my uncle lay down on it, then several times asked for fresh water to drink. Afterwards the flames and a smell of sulphur, heralding fire, forced the others to flee and him to get up. He rose, leaning on two slaves, but soon fell back to the ground. In my opinion, the air, too heavily laden with ash, must have obstructed his breathing, blocking his throat, which by nature was weak, narrow, and subject to frequent inflammations.
When daylight returned on the following day (it was the third since he had last seen it), his body was found intact, unharmed, covered with the same clothes he had worn when he set out; his appearance was that of a man asleep rather than of a dead man.
Version translated from the Latin by Plinio Caio Gracco.
