INTRODUCTION.

DESTRUCTION OF HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII. “Many a calamity has befallen the world ere now, yet none like this replete with instruction and delight for remote generations.”--GOETHE. [Illustration: View of Naples and Mount Vesuvius.] Near the modern city of Naples, at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, once stood the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Whilst the former was considerably removed from the volcano, the latter was seated immediately at the base of the mountain, on a promontory projecting into the bay. Vesuvius was not considered dangerous by the ancient occupants of the soil, as no eruption had ever been known to take place. Strabo noticed the igneous character of its rocks, but the whole district being covered with vines and plantations, undisturbed since the memory of man, he thence assumed the fires to be extinct for want of fuel. Even the sides of the mountain were overgrown with trees, and the summit alone continued barren and rough. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood were probably less inclined to consider the possibility of danger to themselves from the existence of two active volcanoes not far from them which seemed to serve as a vent for all subterranean commotions--the one, Mount Ætna; the other, Mount Epopeus in the island now called Ischia. Ætna, the majestic snowy mountain of Sicily, more than three times the height of Vesuvius, has been known, from the earliest times, as an active volcano; and many passages in Æschylus, Pindar, Thucydides, and Diodorus Siculus might be adduced, commemorating particular eruptions, &c. Pausanias mentions an instance of the piety of two youths who saved their parents at Catana (Book 10., ch. xxviii.) during the descent of the lava which threatened to surround them. In the year 73 B.C., Spartacus, a fugitive slave, at the head of a troop of gladiators and revolters, encamped on the summit of Vesuvius, where they were blockaded. The natural ruggedness of the place, and the density of the vines, favoured their subsequent escape. This is the earliest mention of the actual appearance of the volcano. The natural beauties of the district, then called Campania, are glorified by most writers; it was more particularly celebrated for its fertility and the luxuriant magnificence of its scenery. The convulsions of nature have indeed changed the outline of the mountain, but the varied charms of the beautiful coast remain in undiminished attraction. Deep shades and crystal streamlets, sunny banks and refreshing groves, display the natural loveliness of a locality, favoured with the most luxuriant vegetation, and the finest climate in the world. These enable us fully to comprehend the pains and trouble bestowed by the ancient Romans in building villas and marine residences in so charming a situation. Thus, in the earliest times of the empire, the more wealthy and luxurious Romans established what we moderns should denominate watering places, for fashionable resort, on the coast, Baiæ, Dicæarchia, afterwards Puteoli, Cumæ, Neapolis, and Herculaneum, but the warm springs of the first two rendered them the most favourite resorts, and they became the Bath and Brighton of that era. Lucullus, Pompey and Cæsar, had villas at Baiæ, Nero spent much time there, and Caligula contributed to the celebrity of the scene by his extraordinary bridge of boats. Hadrian died at Baiæ; and, at a later period, Alexander Severus erected many villas in the same neighbourhood. Some of the most splendid palaces were raised upon artificial foundations in the sea itself, and nothing could exceed the luxury and indolence indulged in by the visitors to these regions as depicted by some of the later poets. Horace himself speaks of the pleasant Baiæ as the most delicious place in the world.[49] And so it may have been, and all the neighbouring cities of the bay must have partaken more or less of the same glories. Pompeii was somewhat removed from these enchanting scenes, being on the other side of the bay of Naples, and the situation was not so pleasant as that of its fellow-sufferer Herculaneum. This city stood on a promontory, open, as Strabo says, to the south wind, which made it especially healthy. In fact, the art and style of everything found at Herculaneum show it to have been the resort of a superior class of people. Pompeii is supposed to have stood on the banks of the river Sarnus. The town itself was raised upon a considerable eminence so as to be protected in a great measure from the floods that at certain times of the year devastated the surrounding plain. [49] “Nullus in orbe sinus Baiis prælucet amœnis.”--Ep. bk. i. 1, line 83. The peace and tranquillity of these beautiful regions were first disturbed by natural convulsions in the year 63 A.D. A violent earthquake on the 16th February, threw down many parts of Pompeii, and seriously injured Herculaneum; six hundred sheep were swallowed up at once, statues were split, and many persons became insane. From this period, the Pompeians were disturbed by frequent shocks of earthquake; between the first symptoms in 63 and the dreadful catastrophe which involved their destruction, evidences still exist of the persevering endeavours of the inhabitants at restoration and repair. Many mosaics have been found, which display traces of a very different order of workmanship, in, the repair of damage caused by the earthquake, from that employed in their original construction. In the reign of the emperor Titus, A.D. 79, the celebrated eruption of Vesuvius broke out, suddenly ejecting dense clouds of ashes and pumice-stones, beneath which Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabiæ were completely buried. Awful as such a phenomenon must at all times appear, the event was still more appalling to the inhabitants as they were unable, in the confusion of the moment, to comprehend the source whence these horrors proceeded. An eye witness has fortunately left a detailed account of the event in two letters which are still preserved. We insert the greater part of them as best exhibiting the realities of the scene and the excitement of the unfortunate sufferers. PLINY’S LETTER TO TACITUS. “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 action 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 eternise 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 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, 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, was retired to his study. He immediately arose and went out up on an eminence from whence he might more distinctly view this uncommon appearance. It was not at that distance discernible from what mountain this cloud issued, but it was found afterwards to ascend from Mount Vesuvius. I cannot give you a more exact description of its figure, than by resembling it to that of a pine tree, for it shot up a great height in the form of a trunk, which extended itself at the top into 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 this manner:--it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted, as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinder. 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 it 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 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 being situated at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way to escape but by sea; she earnestly entreated him, therefore, to come to her assistance. He accordingly changed his first design, and what he began with a philosophical, he pursued with an heroical turn of mind. He ordered the galleys to put to sea, and went himself on board with an intention of assisting, not only Rectina, but several others; for the villas stand extremely thick upon that beautiful coast. When hastening to the place from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered his 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 likewise in danger 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 return back again; to which the pilot advising him, ‘Fortune,’ said he, ‘befriends the brave; carry me to Pomponianus.’ Pomponianus was then at Stabiæ, separated by a gulf, which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms upon the shore. He had already sent his baggage on board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet being within the 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 favourable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest consternation. He embraced him with tenderness, encouraged and exhorted him to keep up his spirits, and the more to dissipate his fears, he ordered, with an air of unconcern, the bath 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 meanwhile, 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 is 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 time 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 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 fly to the open fields, where the calcined stones 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 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 most obscure night; which, however, was in some degree dissipated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They thought proper to go down farther upon the shore, to observe if they might safely put out to sea, but they found the waves still run extremely high and boisterous. There my uncle having drank a draught or two of cold water, threw himself down upon a cloth which was spread for him, when immediately the flames, and a strong smell of sulphur, which was the forerunner of them, dispersed the rest of the company, and obliged him to arise. 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 weak lungs, and frequently subject to a difficulty of breathing. 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, exactly in the same posture that he fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead. “During all this time my mother and I, who were at Misenum--but as this has no connection with your history, so your inquiry went no farther than concerning my uncle’s death; with that therefore I will put an end to my letter. Suffer me only to add, that I have faithfully related to you what I was either an eyewitness of myself, or received immediately after the accident happened, and before there was time to vary the truth. “You will choose out of this narrative such circumstances as shall be most suitable to your purpose; for there is a great difference between what is proper for a letter and a history--between writing to a friend and writing to the public. Farewell.” TO CORNELIUS TACITUS. “The letter which, in compliance with your request, I wrote concerning the death of my uncle, has raised, it seems, your curiosity to know what terrors and dangers attended me, while I continued at Misenum; for there, I think, the account in my former broke off. Though my shocked soul recoils, my tongue shall tell. My uncle having left us, I pursued the studies which prevented my going with him, till it was time to bathe. After which I went to supper, and from thence to bed, where my sleep was greatly broken and disturbed. There had been for many days before some shocks of an earthquake, which the less surprised us as they are extremely frequent in Campania; but they were so particularly violent that night, that they not only shook every thing about us, but seemed indeed to threaten total destruction. My mother flew to my chamber, where she found me rising, in order to awaken her. We went out into a small court belonging to the house, which separated the sea from the buildings. As I was at that time but eighteen years of age, I know not whether I should call my behaviour in this dangerous juncture courage or rashness; but I took up Livy and amused myself with turning over that author, and even making extracts from him, as if all about me had been in full security. While we were in this posture, a friend of my uncle’s who was just come from Spain to pay a visit, joined us, and observing me sitting by my mother with a book in my hand, greatly condemned her calmness, at the same time that he reproved me for my careless security; nevertheless I still went on with my author. Though it was now morning, the light was exceedingly faint and languid; the buildings all around us tottered, and though we stood upon open ground, yet as the place was narrow and confined, there was no remaining there without certain and great danger; we therefore resolved to quit the town. The people followed us in the utmost consternation, and (as to the mind distracted with terror, every suggestion seems more prudent than its own) pressed in great crowds about us in our way out. Being got at a convenient distance from the houses, we stood still, in the midst of a most dangerous and dreadful scene. The chariots which we had ordered to be drawn out, were so agitated backwards and forwards, though upon the most level ground, that we could not keep them steady, even by supporting them with large stones. The sea seemed to roll back upon itself, and to be driven from its banks by the convulsive motion of the earth; it is certain, at least, the shore was considerably enlarged, and several sea animals were left upon it. On the other side a black and dreadful cloud, bursting with an igneous serpentine vapour, darted out a long train of fire resembling flashes of lightning, but much larger. Upon this our Spanish friend, whom I mentioned above, addressing himself to my mother and me with greater warmth and earnestness, ‘If your brother and your uncle,’ said he, ‘is safe, he certainly wishes you may be so too; but if he perished, it was his desire, no doubt, that you might both survive him. Why, therefore, do you delay your escape a moment?’ ‘We could never think of our own safety,’ we said, ‘while we were uncertain of his.’ Hereupon our friend left us, and withdrew from the danger with the utmost precipitation. Soon afterwards the cloud seemed to descend and cover the whole ocean; as indeed it entirely hid the island of Caprea and the promontory of Misenum. My mother strongly conjured me to make my escape at any rate, which, as I was young, I might easily do; as for herself, she said, her age and corpulency rendered all attempts of that sort impossible; however, she should willingly meet death, if she could have the satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occasion of mine. But I absolutely refused to leave her, and taking her by the hand, I led her on: she complied with great reluctance, and not without many reproaches to herself for retarding my flight. The ashes now begun to fall upon us, though in no great quantity; I turned my head, and observed behind us a thick smoke, which came rolling after us like a torrent. I proposed, while we had yet any light, to turn out of the high road, lest we should be pressed to death in the dark, by the crowd that followed us. We had scarce stepped out of the path, when a darkness overspread us, not like that of a cloudy night, or when there is no moon, but of a room when it is shut up, and all the lights extinct. Nothing then was to be heard but the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the cries of men; some calling for their children, others for their parents, others for their husbands, and only distinguishing each other by their voices; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his family; some wishing to die, from the very fear of dying; some lifting up their hands to the gods; but the greater part imagining that the last and eternal night was come, which was to destroy both the gods and the world together. Among these there are some who augmented the real terrors by imaginary ones, and made the frighted multitude falsely believe that Misenum was actually in flames. At length a glimmering light appeared, which we imagined to be rather the forerunner of an approaching burst of flames (as in truth it was), than the return of day; however, the fire fell at a distance from us: then again we were immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of ashes rained upon us, which we were obliged every now and then to shake off, otherwise we should have been crushed and buried in the heap; I might boast that, during all this scene of horror, not a sigh or expression of fear escaped from me; had not my support been founded in that miserable, though strong consolation, that all mankind were involved in the same calamity, and that I imagined I was perishing with the world itself. At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud of smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun appeared, though very faintly, and as when an eclipse is coming on. Every object that presented itself to our eyes (which were extremely weakened) seemed changed, being covered over with white ashes as with a deep snow. We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could, and passed an anxious night between hope and fear, though, indeed, with a much larger share of the latter; for the earthquake still continued, while several enthusiastic people ran up and down, heightening their own and their friend’s calamities, by terrible predictions. However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we had passed, and that which still threatened us, had no thoughts of leaving the place till we should receive some account of my uncle. “And now you will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in your history, of which it is by no means worthy; and indeed you must impute it to your own request, if it shall appear scarce to deserve even the trouble of a letter. Farewell.” * * * * * Shortly after the catastrophe all memorials of the devoted cities were lost; discussions on the places they had once occupied were excited only by some obscure passages in classical authors. Five successive eruptions contributed to bury them still deeper under the surface, and the sixth, which occurred in the year 1036, is the first instance of an emission of lava. Before that time the only agents of desolation were showers of sand, cinders, and scoriæ, together with loose fragments of rock. Volcanic ashes poured out in a current have been known to darken the air for hours, and even for days. Such must have been the nature of the phenomenon which the younger Pliny saw and compared to a lofty pine. Dion Cassius states that the ashes of this eruption were carried as far as Africa, and that the dust was so abundant as even to darken the air in the neighbourhood of Rome. Steam poured out in vast quantities, and uniting with the ashes that fell upon Herculaneum, formed a torrent of mud, imbedding all in solid tufa, whilst the ashes of Pompeii were not impregnated, and all lay in this city loose and unconsolidated. Stones of eight pounds weight fell on Pompeii, whilst Stabiæ was overwhelmed with fragments of about an ounce in weight, which must have drifted in immense quantities. During a later eruption fine ashes were borne by the wind as far as Constantinople. Whilst the ancient cities thus lay buried and forgotten, Neapolis, the residence and burial-place of Virgil,[50] grew into the great modern city of Naples, extending its suburban villages along the shore, and connecting itself by a chain of houses to the very roots of Vesuvius. The next town to Naples is Portici. It contains 6000 inhabitants. Immediately adjoining Portici is the still larger town of Resina, with a population of 11,000 souls. These bustling and much frequented places are built upon the lava which covers Herculaneum. [50] See Portrait Gallery, No. 121. DISCOVERY OF THE ANCIENT CITIES. [Illustration: Part of the Bay of Naples, showing the relative positions of Naples, Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabiæ to Mount Vesuvius.] In the year 1689, during some excavations in the plain at the foot of Vesuvius, where it was subsequently proved that Pompeii had flourished, a workman observed the regularity with which successive layers of earth and volcanic matter had been deposited. He compared them to pavements one upon the other; with remains of burnt vegetation, charcoal, and common earth beneath each volcanic deposit. Under one of these dense masses of scoria, dust, and pumice stone, he found large quantities of carbonised timber, locks, and iron work, evidently the remains of habitations, which, together with some old keys, and inscriptions giving the name of the locality, satisfied the learned of the day that they belonged to the ancient city of Pompeii. (Venuti, p. 37. Mém. de l’Académie Fran.; Mém. de Littérature, tom. xv. Des Embrasemens du Mont Vésuve, and also Bianchini, Istoria Universale, Roma, 1699, p. 246. Cochin, p. 31). The discovery created little excitement at the time; the government was indisposed to prosecute the research, and no farther excavation was carried on till the year 1749. Meanwhile, the accidental sinking of a well in another place brought to light such treasures of art as to induce a systematic exploration in a more profitable locality. This was in the neighbourhood of Naples, where after seventeen centuries the city of Herculaneum was once more rescued from oblivion. The circumstances which led to the discovery are briefly these. The prince D’Elbœuf, of the house of Lorraine, came to Naples in 1706 (Cochin, p. 35), and ordered the construction of a marine villa for himself at Portici, in 1711. (Venuti, p. 38. Gori, Admiranda, p. 39.) He had a Frenchman in his service, who possessed the art of making a durable stucco from pulverised marble, and as many fragments of antique marbles as possible were collected for the manufacture of his composition. One day a countryman presented himself, asserting that in sinking a well at Resina (Venuti, p. 39), he had discovered a variety of precious marbles, some of which he had brought with him as specimens. These marbles were so beautiful and rare, that the prince was induced to purchase of the man the right of further excavation, and he immediately commenced a systematic course of exploration upon that spot. The stucco prepared by the Frenchman was not only an imitation of precious marbles, but also a cement similar to that employed by the ancients. Most of the antique buildings were so plastered internally, as it was harder and more durable than marble in its natural state. The excavators, therefore, were more delighted when they found large plain slabs and shafts of columns than elaborately carved foliage and statues, because the latter afforded them a smaller quantity of actual material. Stendardo was appointed to direct the works which were carried on branching sideways from the well, just above the level of the water; (Gori, p. 40. Venuti, p. 39. Cochin, p. 37;) at the expiration of two days, they found a statue of Hercules, evidently from a Grecian chisel, and they remarked with astonishment that it had formerly been restored (Gori, p. 40). Some days after this they came upon a female statue, which was at once pronounced to be a Cleopatra (Gori, p. 40). They next extricated a large square mass of marble, and upon removing a crust of bituminous matter it was found to be the architrave of a gateway, with letters of bronze inlaid into the surface. The inscription was APPIVS. PVLCHER. CAII. FILIVS. VIR. EPVLONVM. (Venuti, p. 39.) Many columns of variegated alabaster were next discovered, and this led to the excavation of a circular temple, with twenty-four columns, and statues of Greek marble between them (Gori, p. 41). The pavement of this building was constructed of that rich yellow marble, called _Giallo antico_, and many columns of the same material lay in the vicinity. Seven of the twelve figures belonging to the temple were female, executed in a superior Grecian style. Prince Elbœuf dispatched them to Vienna as a present to Prince Eugene of Savoy (Venuti, p. 39). The best of these statues were afterwards sold to the King of Poland for 60,000 scudi; they are now at Dresden, and engraved in plates 19 to 26 of Becker’s “Augusteum” (Winckelmann, Werke, vol. ii. p. 135). The prince evidently knew very little of the real value of his discoveries, and during the next five years continued disinterring pieces of mosaic alabaster slabs, and a few statues, some of which decorated his villa, and the rest were sent over to France. Upon the discovery of a beautiful statue of one of the daughters of Balbus, the state interfered, and the Neapolitan government prohibited any further excavations. For thirty years the site was almost forgotten. In 1736, the King Carlo III. (Borbone) resolved to build a palace at Portici, and the ancient well was once more resorted to. The excavations were resumed, and very important results followed. Animated discussions were still maintained respecting the name of the ancient city, for a city the excavations had already proved it to be. A communication to the Royal Society by a Mr. Sloane, in 1740, exhibits the matter as still in a state of uncertainty. The Marquis Venuti, keeper of the Farnese library which Carlo Borbone had inherited from Rome, was appointed superintendent of the excavations at Resina. He has left minute records of his proceedings both in the “Admiranda Notizia,” 2 et. seq., of Gori, and in his own work published at Venice and London,