Mt. Vesuvius from the Temple of Jupiter in Pompeii

August 24, 2006, about 1pm.

I have just arrived on the hot and sweaty Circumvesuviana that has taken me from Naples Garibaldi/Centrale station to the base of Mt. Vesuvius. As I descend to the platform and suck in the hot air, I feel the heat intensify in my lungs. My mind harkens back to the words of Pliny the Younger describing the death of his uncle, Pliny the Elder.

“Immediately the flames, preceded by a strong smell of sulfur, dispersed the remainder of his party, and caused him to rise. He raised himself up with the assistance of two of his slaves, and instantly fell down dead; suffocated, as I surmise, by some awful and noxious vapor.” (Letters Book X)

There was not an eruption today, of course, but the heat made my head swim with images of that disastrous day, exactly 2085 years to the day, even the hour.

You cannot imagine what it was like to be in Pompeii or Herculaneum at the time of the eruption. The magnificent and destructive eruption of 79 AD was not the mountain’s final incursion on the surface of the earth. But it was the most overall destructive one. The last time Mt. Vesuvius erupted, March 1944, it produced a lava flow that inundated Massa and San Sebastiano. This eruption, well before the end of World War II, caused more damage than several air raids of the war.

Allied bombers flying over the erupting Mt. Vesuvius, 1944, photo courtesy of Don Kaiser

I have reached the last souvenir stand on the side of the mountain, as I begin the ascent to the summit of the Gran Cono. Mt. Vesuvius, though it looks like a single mountain from below is really a volcano within a volcano. Or more properly, a caldera with a crater inside. It is from that crater that modern day steam and lava eruptions occur. And it is probably a good thing that this crater releases some pressure now and again.

Mt. Vesuvius, at the time of the Romans, was perhaps twice as tall as it is today. The Romans, and before them the Oscans, the Greeks and others who have enjoyed the fertile fields around the mountain, were not ignorant of volcanoes. Mt. Aetna in Sicily was well-known; strange gases that seemed to emerge from the earth were known around the area of Pozzuoli and the Phlegraean Fields. And Vulcan, the god of the forge, was said to reside under Mt. Vesuvius. But no one realized that Mt. Vesuvius was an active volcano because it had never exploded in historical or legendary times. There was no written or oral record about eruptions from this awesome mountain.

As I stand in awe on the edge of the inner crater, the Bay of Naples impresses me. Behind me, I can see the plain of Pompeii and out onto the peninsula of Sorrento. If it were a little less hazy, I could see the island of Capri. The area is beautiful, and it is not hard to understand why so many people have claimed it as home.

At the same time, I can almost hear the shouts from the surrounding towns as the volcano lets loose its fury. Such massive destruction is hard to imagine, though I recall seeing a video of Mt. St. Helen’s eruption and thinking how awful it was to me near that mountain on that day.

I continue to look around the bay and can almost make out through the haze the tip of the northern shore where modern Miseno is. I can almost believe that ships of Admiral Pliny (the Elder) are sailing with relief to Pompeii.

Pliny the Younger was witness to the horrific effects of the explosive mountain that had lain dormant for so many years. Residing in Misenum with his mother and uncle, Pliny the Elder, the younger Pliny so acutely described the massive ash plume that rose 32km (20 miles) into the air, the pyroclastic flow, and the deadly hot gases, that his name is now used to describe such eruptions. It is called a plinian eruption. The same kind of eruption has occurred at Krakatoa (Indonesia), Mt. St. Helens (USA), Mt. Pinatubo (Philippines) and El Chichón (Mexico).

Pliny writes,

“A cloud from Mount Vesuvius was ascending, the appearance of which I cannot give you a more exact description of than by likening it to that of an umbrella pine, for it shot up to a great height in the form of a very tall trunk, which spread itself out at the top into branches. The cloud itself being pressed back again by its own weight, then expanded; it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted.

As my uncle sailed toward Pompeii, “the cinders grew thicker and hotter the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with pumice, and black pieces of burning rock.”

Where he rested, “The courtyard was 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. He and his party consulted together whether it would be most prudent to stay inside the houses, which rocked from side to side with frequent and violent concussions as though shaken from their very foundations; or better to fly to the open fields, where the cinders, though light, fell in large showers, and threatened destruction.” (Letters Book X)

I find myself almost unwilling to leave this spot. The wind from the bay is cooling as the sun continues to beat upon my back. I can hear the sounds of those recently arrived at the summit, expressions of awe, anxiety and excitement echoing through the hazy atmosphere. But I want to really feel what it was like on that day in 79 AD. Did the people really believe the gods had forsaken them? Did they really believe this minor annoyance might pass them and they could easily return for their valuables?

Two cities continue to give up the ghost of their past. Pompeii (Pompei) and Herculaneum (Ercolano) yield more artifacts, buried bodies and clues to the lives of these ancient people every year. Less visited but worth the time is the Villa of Poppaea at Oplontis. This recently opened villa is so remarkably well-preserved that what you see in the other cities of wall paintings and decorations comes more fully to life. And the opulence available to Poppaea as the second wife of the emperor Nero allowed her to build and maintain a magnificent villa, leaving even more majestic ruins for us to enjoy.

It is certain that many left behind enormous treasures. The silver collection in the Naples Archaeological museum shows that our tastes in fine silver have not changed in nearly three millennia. But more foreboding, such artifacts are witness to the fact that the residents of Pompeii and countless other cities and villas never made it back to their homes. Where did they go? There is not clear record of their diaspora.

There are plaster casings of human and animal bodies that show a dim tale of their attempts to flee. The nature of the eruption gave the residents some hope that they might be able to wait out the destruction, only to find themselves inundated by fiery gases and tons of ash. Some of the bodies might belong to looters who saw the rich and powerful fleeing with doors left unlocked and treasures unguarded.

The mountain holds intriguing hints of its past and future

Now sitting, wanting even to smell the air of Vesuvius and imagine all the sensations the ancient residents did, the shear volume of material that this mountain vomited overwhelms me.

Mt. Vesuvius in ancient times, from a wall painting in Pompeii, photo by Thomas Talboy

I recall a wall painting from Pompeii that is now preserved in the Naples Archaeological museum. It shows an almost comic representation of a pointed mountain with an idyllic setting of birds and snakes and the god Bacchus. The Pomepeians welcomed the fertile nature of the soil, great for producing a famed Campanian wine, and all that such natural wealth brought to their city. [pic: Vesuvius_wall_sm.jpg/ / caption: ]

The port city of Herculaneum (Ercolano) enjoyed the wealth of shipping the goods out to Rome and other cities on the Mediterranean. Stabiae and other locations served well the desires of the rich and the poor.

Imagining that painting, despite its perhaps exaggerated features, I can almost imagine that enormity of the destruction. At the summit, I stand 1281 meters (4202 feet) above sea level. From scientific analysis, or just a simple active imagination, I can see that the mountain was nearly twice as high in ancient times as it is today.

For centuries, people have flocked to the fertile plain lying within the wrath and care of Mt. Vesuvius. Whether it has been for planting and commercial purposes or just to enjoy the warm Campanian sun, there is no stopping the desire to be close to the source of so much destruction and creation. No visit to the area is complete without a day spent admiring the mountain that has made the plain what it is, whether from a distance or from the mountain itself. And here I sit, warmed by the Campanian sun and cooled by the Mediterranean breeze. I think of the losses of the past but revel in the gains of today.

As I descend the mountain, ready for a visit to Pompeii, I can almost hear the alarmed cries of the citizens and residents of Pompeii running for their lives, and I, a modern looter of history, silently walk to their abandoned homes.

Note: Translations are t those of William Melmoth (1909) and adapted by Thomas Talboy.