in its productions. The eruptions of this mountain have been uumerous in almost every age of the Christian æra; and on many occasions prodigiously destructive. From the numerous narrations to which they have given rise, we shall confine ourselves to those that are most awful or interesting. SECT. I.-Destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum. THE earliest and one of the most fatal eruptions of Vesuvius that occurs to us in history, took place in the year 79 of the Christian æra, and the first of the reign of Titus. All Campania was alarmed by its violence, and the country was devastated in every direction to a very great distance; numerous towns with the whole of their inhabitants were consumed, and among the rest, the elegant cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, the ruins of which, after having been utterly overwhelmed and lost for more than sixteen centuries, were at length traced out by accident; and, so far as they relate to the latter, have been explored to a considerable extent. The wreck of Herculaneum was discovered in 1739, and was rendered accessible by a well in the course of the ensuing year. Pompeii had suffered severely from an earthquake, sixteen years before the eruption of 79, but had been rebuilt and embellished with several stately edifices; especially with a magnificent theatre, in which the people were assembled, and intent upon the spectacle, when this tremendous visitation burst upon them, swallowing up the city by an earthquake, and overcovering its site to a considerable depth with the fiery materials that were thrown forth from the mouth of the crater. The cities of Puteoli and Cuma were also greatly damaged, partly by the concussions, and partly by the burning ashes, which last, according to the concurrent assertion of ancient historians, extended to Africa, Egypt and Syria, and at Rome turned the day suddenly into night, to the consternation of the inhabitants. It was during this ernption, that the elder Pliny fell a victim to suffocation, the poet Cesius Bassus and his household were consumed by the flames, and Agrippa, son of Claudius Felix, the well-known governor of Judæa, and of Drusilla, daughter to Agrippa, the last king of the Jews, perished in his youth as we are told by Josephus; though the passage of this writer in which he refers for a more particular account of his death, is no longer extant. The earliest of the eruptions of Vesuvius of which we have any narrative, is so exquisitely and impressively related by the younger Pliny, in two letters to his friend Tacitus the historian, that it has been rendered almost as celebrated, from this fine and touching description, as on account of the extent of the calamity itself. But though this description is the earliest, we are not to conclude that no eruption had ever taken place antecedently. Neither Pliny nor Tacitus hint at any thing to this effect, nor express the smallest surprise at the phænomenon, which they undoubt edly would have done, had it been the first of the kind. One of the earliest we meet with in history, next to that narrated by Pliny, is comparatively in our own times; it occurred in 1538, and formed the crater near Pozzicoli, which has received the name of Monte Nuovo. Curiosity led many persons to look into this crater a few days after the eruption had ceased, when twenty of the rashest and most daring were destroyed by a sudden explosion of smoke, stones, and ashes. The next of which we have any document, took place in 1631, and is described by Antonio Santorelli, as also by the Abbate Braccini: during which the sea, as in the eruption of 79, retreated from the coast. The next memorable eruption in the order of time, is that described by Valetta in 1707: since which period, accounts of not fewer than ten others have been published in the Philosophical Transactions, for nearly half of which the world is greatly indebted to the assiduity and intrepidity of Sir William Hamilton. Besides these, we have also an account of an eruption in 1717, by bishop Berkeley, and of another in 1737 by Dr. Serao, published the same year at Naples. The description of Pliny is as follows; and the two letters that contain it are numbered sixteen and twenty in the sixth book of his epistolary collection. 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 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 eternize 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 uncom mon 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*. On the 23d 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 sunt, and after bathing himself in cold water, and taking a slight repast, had retired to his study: he immediately arose and went out upon an eminence from which he might more distinctly view this very uncommon appearance. It was not at that distance discernible from what mountain this cloud issued, but it was found afterwards to ascend from mount Vesuviust. 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 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 this manner. It appeared sometimes bright, and sometimes dark and spotted, as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders. This extraordi. nary 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 proper, to attend him. I rather chose to continue my studies; for, as it happened, he had given me * In the gulf of Naples. 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. ‡ About six miles distant from Naples.—This dreadful eruption happene A. D. 79, in the first year of the emperor Titus. 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 intreated 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 the beautiful coast. When hastening to the place from which 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 a ground 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 that 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: be embraced him with tenderness, encouraging and exhorting him to keep up his spirits; and the more to dissipate his fears, he ordered, with an air of unconcern, the baths 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 mean while the eruption from mount Vesuvius flamed out in several places with much violence, which the darkness of the night Now called Castel è Mar di Stabia, in the gulf of Naples. 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 not 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 it 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. Though it was now day every where else, with them it was darker than the most obscure night, excepting only what light proceeded from the fire and flames. 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 drunk 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 them 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 subjected 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 |