The greatest tragedy has struck the peoples of Turkey and Syria on Monday 6 February

The greatest tragedy has struck the peoples of Turkey and Syria on Monday 6 February. Two earthquakes, of magnitude 7.8 and 7.7, have affected vast territories in both countries. It is hard to judge as a non-specialist, but the epicentre of the earthquakes seems to lie in roughly the same place as that of the tragic earthquake which destroyed the city of Antioch on 13 December 115 AD, when the Emperor Trajan and his army were wintering there. Cassius Dio described this catastrophe in detail in his Roman History. From his account we know that many cities suffered, but most of all densely populated Antioch, which stood not far from the modern Turkish city of Antakya, itself severely devastated now. On that occasion some 260,000 people perished in and near Antioch.

While he [Trajan] was staying in Antioch, there occurred an earthquake which caused many cities to suffer inconvenience, and Antioch more than all. Among soldiers and civilians who had journeyed there from every quarter on business, for trade or out of curiosity, there was no one who did not sustain some loss, so that the whole Roman empire seemed to be shut up in that city and to feel there the ruinous consequences of this lamentable calamity. It was preceded by lightning and thunder, but no one imagined what would follow. First a sort of roar and trembling was heard, then the earth heaved up and the buildings swayed. A dreadful noise arose from the crashing of beams, stones, bricks and tiles torn from their places; the air was filled with dust so thick that it blinded the eyes. Many people were lifted into the air and flung out of their houses; some were maimed and some killed. The earthquake proved so violent that trees were torn up by the roots. The number of those caught by the elements in their houses and crushed beneath the ruins was beyond counting. Some perished as the houses fell and were buried under the earth. Some lay in a most pitiable state under confused heaps of rubble, where they could neither live nor die. Among their vast multitude there were those who escaped death, but many were injured, some in the legs, others in the shoulders, others in the head. Some bled to death, and among them the consul Pedo, who died. In short, there was not a single vexatious mishap that did not attend the cruelty of that day. When this continued for many days and nights, no one knew how to bring it to an end. Some met their end beneath the ruins; others, who found themselves in the hollow spaces between the wreckage, under beams and vaults, died of hunger. When the earthquake was over, a man had the courage to climb up onto the ruins, where he found a woman with a child whom she was feeding with her milk, and herself living on it. Dead bodies were found afterwards, among them a child who was still breathing, clinging to the breast of its mother, who had only just given up the ghost. The grief of those who gathered up the dead was so great that they took no joy at all in having survived themselves. Trajan escaped through a window, guided by a man of more than ordinary height. He was so frightened that he remained in the Circus for many days after the earthquake had ceased. Mount Kôrax was displaced, so that its summit sank and seemed almost to fall upon the city. Other mountains, too, subsided. Springs appeared in places where none had ever been seen, while others dried up in places where they had always been.

Illustration: Sophie Anderson, After the Earthquake, 1924–26, Auckland Art Gallery