invited his nephew to accompany him, but the prudent young man relates
in his letters to Tacitus, from whom we know the little concerning the
eruption which has come down to us, that he preferred to do some
reading which he had to attend to. His uncle, however, went straight
forward, intending to land at some point on the shore at the foot of
the cone. He found the sea, however, so high that a landing was
impossible; moreover, the fall of rock fragments menaced the ship. He
therefore cruised along the shore for some distance, landing at a
station probably near the present village of Castellamare. At this
point the fall of ashes and pumice was very great, but the sturdy old
Roman had his dinner and slept after it. There is testimony that he
snored loudly, and was aroused only when his servants began to fear
that the fall of ashes and stones would block the way out of his
bedchamber. When he came forth with his attendants, their heads
protected by planks resting on pillows, he set out toward Pompeii,
which was probably the place where he sought to land. After going some
distance, the brave man fell dead, probably from heart disease; it is
said that he was at the time exceedingly asthmatic. No sooner were his
servants satisfied that the life had passed from his body than they
fled. The remains were recovered after the eruption had ceased. The
younger Pliny further relates that after his uncle left, the cloud
from the mountain became so dense that in midday the darkness was that
of midnight, and the earthquake shocks were so violent that wagons
brought to the courtyard of the dwelling to bear the members of the
household away were rolled this way and that by the quakings of the
earth.

Save for the above-mentioned few and unimportant details concerning
the eruption, we have no other contemporaneous account. We have,
indeed, no more extended story until Dion Cassius, writing long after