Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus sends greetings to his friend Tacitus.

Your request that I send you an account of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius deserves a quick reply. For, if you write about the events, their terrible glory will always remain available to posterity. I will write about my uncle’s experience, as of the three of us who lived near the volcano at the time – himself, my mother, and I – my uncle is the one who most closely approached the affected area. My uncle would write himself, but is too busy working on revisions to his book – something to do with his observations of the birds here on Ilva. He asks me to tell you that while he too was banished for a written work and a mistake (1), he is spending his exile more fruitfully than Ovid, and writing something that is not merely a complaint about his fate.

Allow me to return to the point of this letter. At that time, we lived in Misenum. My uncle was commander of the fleet in the Bay of Naples. On the 24th of August, just after we had enjoyed a light luncheon, my mother called to our attention a dark cloud which had suddenly appeared across the bay. For several days before, the earth had been shaking almost constantly, if gently, but we did not connect that event to the odd cloud which appeared before us. It was of an unusual size and shape, not unlike a pine tree of enormous dimensions, for it shot straight up like a trunk, to a great height, then spread out at the top, like branches. My uncle, a man, as you know, of great learning and research, could not help but desire to investigate the phenomenon. He ordered a light boat, and asked me if I wished to accompany him. I decided against it, as I had much to do – I was not quite 18 at the time, and my uncle was tutoring me in rhetoric and logic.

Just before he left the house, however, a messenger arrived. A friend of ours, the wife of Bassus, was imploring the fleet’s assistance – the volcano, you see, was erupting, and there was no way to escape but by sea. Realizing the situation, what had first been motivated by curiosity was now motivated by desperation – thousands of people lived in the little towns that ring the Bay, and all were imperiled by the mountain. My uncle ordered the fleet to be put to sea, in the hopes of rescuing whomever they could reach.

He tells me that he very soon encountered cinders falling like snow, then pieces of pumice and even burning rocks falling from the sky. They sailed to Stabiae, their intention being to save the people there. My uncle decided to wait a while and observe the ongoing events, to assuage his curiosity. By the time he was satisfied, the sea proved too rough to return across the bay. The houses shook as in an earthquake; the sky was darker than the deepest night, even though it was day, and they had to tie pillows to their heads to protect from the falling stones.  Soon too, they were nearly overcome by terrible fumes that smelled of sulphur and burned the throat.

As you know, my uncle has always suffered from breathing difficulties, and the fumes hit him the hardest; he lost consciousness. Fortunately, his companions were able to get him to fresh air by dragging him onto the beach. In the end, my uncle and his companions had to escape by land, though other members of the fleet, who had left sooner, were more successful.

 In the end, they rescued several hundred people – a number which pales into insignificance when compared to the number who died. Afterwards, my uncle estimated that fifteen, or perhaps twenty thousand people lived in the destroyed cities and towns at the foot of the mountain and ringing the bay.  I can not guess how many might have gotten away by land, but I am sure that not one person in ten escaped. It was this fact (as well as the earthquakes and other strange events which proceeded the eruption) which, as you know, would have great bearing upon the cause for my uncle’s exile.

Meanwhile, at home in Misenum, it grew dark. My mother and I went about our normal activities – I even took notes from a volume of Livy – until a friend of my uncle’s visiting from Spain (2), joined us, surprised at how calm we were.  The earthquake, however, grew worse, until the house was shaking and tottering around us. We knew we had to leave the building before it collapsed. We found ourselves, together with most of the residents of the town, in a great, open field, far from the town buildings.

The shaking of the earth grew even worse; chariots and wagons could not be kept still, and rolled back and forth even though people rushed to place large rocks against their wheels. The sea drew away from the shore, as if rolling into itself – fish and other sea creatures were left exposed on what had been the sea bottom, and on the far shore enormous flashes of lightening, and masses of flame could be see, now and then, through the cloud of smoke. Then the cloud descended upon the sea, and we could see nothing more. There was a rain of ashes, and when, gradually, the sun returned, the ashes lay thick on everything, like snow. The earth was still shaking, but my mother and I returned home, to await news of my uncle’s fate.

Farewell.

PRID. ID. IVN.

(1)   The reference is to Ovid’s famous ‘carmen et error’

(2)   His name is not recorded.