ter, out of your fingular Goodnefs and Friendship, have fo often defended me. I am no Stranger to what has been faid of me by certain Perfons, fince CAESAR'S Death. They call it a Crime in me, that I am concerned for the Loss of an intimate Friend, and forry that the Man, whom I loved, met with fo unhappy a Fate. They fay, that our Country ought to be preferred to any Friendship, as if they had already made it evident, that his Death was of Service to the Republic. But I will not deal craftily; I own myself not to be arrived at that Degree of Wisdom; nor did I yet follow CÆSAR in our late Diffentions, but my Friend; whom, though displeased with the Thing, I could not defert: for I never approved the Civil War, or the Cause of it, but took all poffible Pains to stifle it in its Birth. Upon the Victory therefore of a familiar Friend, I was not eager to advance, or to enrich myself: an Advantage which others, who had lefs Intereft with him than I, abused to great Excefs. Nay, my Circumftances were even hurt by CESAR's Law; to whofe Kindness the greatest Part of thofe, who now rejoice at his Death, owed their very Continuance in the City. I folicited the Pardon of the Vanquished with the fame Zeal as if it had been for my felf. Is it poffible therefore for me, who laboured to procure the Safety of all, not to be concerned for the Death of him, from whom I used to procure it? especially when the very fame Men, who were the Cause of making him odious, were the Authors alfo of destroying him. But I fhall have Cause, they fay, to repent, for daring to condemn their Act. Unheard-of Infolence! that it should be allowed to fome to glory in a wicked Action, yet not to others, even to grieve at it without Punishment! But this was always free even to Slaves, to fear, rejoice, and grieve by their own Will, not that of another; which yet these Men, who call themselves the Authors of Liberty, are endeavouring to extort from us by the Force of Terror. But they may fpare their Threats: for no Danger fhall terrify me from performing my Duty and the Offices of Humanity; fince it was always my Opinion that an honeft Death was never to be avoided, often even to be fought. But why are they angry with me, for wifhing only that they may repent of their Act? I wish that all the World may regret CASAR's Death. But I ought, fay they, as a Member of Civil Society, to wish the Good and Safety of the Republic. If my paft Life and future Hopes do not already prove, that I with it, without my faying so, I will not pretend to evince it by Argument. I beg

you therefore in the ftrongeft Terms, to attend to Facts rather than Words; and if you think it the most useful to one in my Circumstances, that what is right should take place, never imagine, that I can have any Union or Commerce with ill-defigning Men. I acted the fame Part in my Youth, where to miftake would have been pardonable; fhall I then undo it all again, and renounce my Principles in my declining Age? No; it is my Refolution to do nothing that can give any Öffence; except it be when I lament the cruel Fate of a dear Friend and illuftrious Man. If I were in different Sentiments, I would never difown what I was doing; left I should be thought, not only wicked for pursuing what was wrong, but falfe and cowardly for diffembling it. But I undertook the Care of the Shews, which young CESAR exhibited for the Victory of his Uncle. This was an Affair of private, not of public Duty. It was what I ought to have performed to the Memory and Honour of my dead Friend; and what I could not therefore deny to a Youth of the greatest Hopes, and fo highly worthy of CESAR.-But I go alfo often to the Conful ANTONY's, to pay my Compliments; yet you will find those Men very oftener, to afk and receive Favours, who reflect upon me for it, as difaffected to my Country. But what Aris this? When CESAR never hindered me from virogance fiting whom I would; even those whom he did not care for; that they, who have deprived me of him, fhould attempt by their Cavils to debarr me from placing my Efteem where I think proper. But I am not afraid, that either the Modefty of my Life fhould not be fufficient to confute all falfe Reports of me for the future, or that they, who do not love me for my Conftancy to CESAR, would not chufe to have their Friends refemble me, rather than themfelves. For my own Part, if I could have my Wish, I would spend the Remainder of my Days in quiet at Rhodes: but if any Accident prevent me, will live in fuch a Manner at Rome, as always to defire, that what is Right may prevail. I am greatly obliged to our Friend TREBATIUS, for giving me this Affurance of your fincere and friendly Regard to me, and for making it my Duty to refpect and obferve a Man whom I had efteemed always before with Inclination. Take care of your Health, and preferve me in your Affection.

go

LET

LETTER VII.

PLINY to TACITU s.

Requeft that I would fend you an Account of

Ymy Uncle's Death, in order to tranfmit a more exact

Relation of it to Pofterity, deferves my Acknowledgments; for if this Accident fhall be celebrated by your Pen, the Glory of it, I am well affured, will be rendered for ever illuftrious. And notwithstanding he perifhed by a Misfortune, which, as it involved at the fame time a moft beautiful Country in Ruins, and destroyed fo many populous Cities, feems to promife him an everlasting Remembrance; notwithstanding he has himself compofed many and lafting Works; yet, I am perfuaded, the mentioning of him in your immortal Writings, will greatly contribute to eternize his Name. Happy I efteem thofe to be, whom Providence has diftinguished with the Abilities either of doing fuch Actions as are worthy of being related, or of relating them in a Manner worthy of being read; but doubly happy are those who are bleffed with both these uncommon Talents: In the Number of which my Uncle, as his own Writings, and your Hiftory will evidently prove, may juftly 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 Mifenum. On the 23d of Auguft, about One in the Afternoon, my Mother defired him to obferve 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 flight Repaft, was retired to his Study: He immediately arofe, and went out upon an Eminence, from whence he might more diftinctly view this very uncommon Appearance. It was not at that Distance difcernable from what Mountain this Cloud iffued; but it was found afterwards to afcend from Mount Vefuvius. I cannot give you a more exact Description of its Figure, than by resembling it to that of a Pine-Tree, for it fhot up a great Height in the Form of a Trunk, which extended itself at the Top into a fort of Branches; occafioned, I imagine, either by a fudden Gust of Air that impelled it, the Force of which decreafed as it advanced upwards, or the Cloud itself being pressed back again by its

own

own Weight, expanded in this Manner: It appeared sometimes bright, and fometimes dark and spotted, as it was more or lefs impregnated with Earth and Cinders. This extraordinary Phænomenon excited my Uncle's philofophical Curiosity to take a nearer View of it. He ordered a light Veffel to be got ready, and gave me the Liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I rather chofe to continue my Studies; for, as it happened, he had given me an Employment of that Kind. As he was coming out of the Houfe he received a Note from Retina, the Wife of Baffus, who was in the utmost Alarm at the imminent Danger which threatened her; for her Villa being fituated at the Foot of Mount Vefuvius, there was no Way to escape but by Sea, fhe earnestly entreated him therefore to come to her Affiftance. He accordingly changed his firft Defign, and what he began with a philofophical, he purfued with an heroical Turn of Mind. He ordered the Gallies to put to Sea, and went himself on board with an Intention of affifting, not only Reɛtina, but feveral others; for the Villas ftand extremely thick upon that beautiful Coaft. When haftening to the Place from whence others fled with the utmoft Terror, he fteered his direct Course to the Point of Danger, and with fo much Calmness and Prefence of Mind, as to be able to make and dictate his Obfervations upon the Motion and Figure of that dreadful Scene. He was now fo near 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 likewife in Danger, not only of being aground by the fudden Retreat of the Sea, but al fo from the vaft Fragments which rolled down from the Mountain, and obftructed all the Shore. Here he ftopped. to confider whether he fhould return back again; to which the Pilot advifing him, Fortune, faid he, befriends the Brave; carry me to Pomponianus. Pomponianus was then at Stabia, feparated by a Gulph, which the Sea, after feveral infenfible Windings, forms upon that Shore. He had already fent 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 fhould in the leaft increase, he was determined to put to Sea as foon as the Wind fhould change. It was favourable however, for carrying my Uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest Confternation. He embraced him with Tendernefs, encouraging and exhorting him to keep up his Spirits; and the more to diffipate his Fears, he ordered, with an Air of Unconcern, the Baths

to

to be got ready; when, after having bathed, he fate down to Supper with great Chearfulness, or at leaft (what is equally heroic) with all the Appearance of it. In the mean while the Eruption from Mount Vefuvius flamed out from 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 footh the Apprehenfions of his Friend, af fured him it was only the burning of the Villages, which the Country People had abandoned to the Flames: After this he retired to Reft; and, it is moft certain, he was fo little dif-. compofed as to fall into a deep Sleep; for, being pretty fat, and breathing hard, those who attended without, actually heard him fnore. The Court which led to his Apartment, being now almoft filled with Stones and Ashes, if he had continued there any time longer, it would have been impoffible 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 confulted together whether it would be moft prudent to truft to the Houses, which now fhook from fide to fide with frequent and violent Concuffions, or fly to the open Fields, where the calcined Stones and Cinders, tho' light indeed, yet fell in large Showers, and threatened Destruction. In this Diftrefs they refolved for the Fields, as the lefs dangerous Situation of the two: A Refolution, which while the reft of the Company were hurried into by their Fears, my Uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate Confideration. 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. Tho' it was now Day every where else, with them it was darker than the moft obfcure Night, excepting only what Light proceeded from the Fire and Flames. They thought proper to go down farther upon the Shore, to obferve if they might fafely put out to Sea, but they found the Waves ftill 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 fpread for him, when immediately the Flames, and a strong Smell of Sulphur, which was the Forerunner of them, difperfed the reft of the Company, and obliged him to arife. He raised himself up with the Affiftance of two of his Servants, and inftantly fell down dead; fuffocated, as I conjecture, by fome grofs and noxious Vapour, having always had weak Lungs, and frequently subject to a Difficulty of Breathing. As foon as it was light again, VOL. I

I

which