In this reconstruction the sameness of the earlier colonnade was varied with pleasing irregularities. Thus in front of the main entrance (A), and in a corresponding position on the opposite side of the court, the place of four columns was taken by two broad pillars flanked by half-columns, and carrying a roof more than five feet higher than that of the rest of the colonnade. A similar arrangement has already been noted in the colonnade of the temple of Isis [(p. 174]).
Fig. 90.—Stabian Baths: southwest corner of the palaestra, showing part of the colonnade and wall decorated with stucco reliefs.
The wall decoration of the court has been particularly well preserved on the outer wall of D and E ([Fig. 90]; cf. [Pl. XIII]). The surface is diversified by fantastic architectural designs in two stories, made up of slender columns with their entablatures, open doorways with steps leading up to them, and glimpses of interiors. In the panels thus outlined, figures of all kinds stand out in white relief on a bright red or blue ground. Above the arched doorway Jupiter sits, resting his right hand on his sceptre; near by, on a pillar, is the eagle. Further to the left a satyr offers Hercules a drinking horn. Another relief, not so well preserved, has a motive suggestive of the purpose of the building—Hylas at the spring seized by the nymphs. With this we may associate two designs having reference to the exercises of the palaestra: a boxer, at the left of the doorway of E, and at the right a man scraping himself with a strigil. On the outer wall of G is Daedalus, making wings for himself and Icarus.
Under the colonnade at the rear, a herm stands close to the wall, having the features of a youth with a garment drawn over his head and covering the upper part of the body. For the explanation of it we are indebted to Pausanias. 'In the gymnasium at Phigalia, in Arcadia,' says this writer, 'is an image of Hermes. It has the appearance of a man wrapped in a cloak, and terminates below in a square pillar in the place of feet.' This is Hermes, the god of the Palaestra, here, as in Phigalia, in a guise suggestive of his function of Psychopompus, the conductor of departed souls. We have already met with an example of the same type in the court of the temple of Apollo.
A sundial stood on the roof of the frigidarium and men's caldarium, supported by a foundation of masonry still visible. It bore an Oscan inscription, from which we learn that it was set up by the Quaestor Maras Atinius, in accordance with a decree of the council, the money for the expenditure being derived from fines. The fines were very likely collected here, by the official in charge of the building. Sundials were erected also in the other baths at Pompeii. They were a necessity, for all such establishments were conducted on a schedule of hours. Hadrian ordered that the baths in Rome should be open from the eighth hour, that is, after two o'clock in the afternoon; and a regulation in regard to the time of opening, if not of closing, was probably in force at Pompeii.
A motley and tumultuous life once filled the barren court, the rooms now ruined and deserted. The scene is well pictured by Seneca (Ep. 56): 'Quiet is by no means so necessary for study as men commonly believe,' the philosopher gravely argues. 'I am living near a bath: sounds are heard on all sides. Just imagine for yourself every conceivable kind of noise that can offend the ear. The men of more sturdy muscle go through their exercises, and swing their hands heavily weighted with lead: I hear their groans when they strain themselves, or the whistling of labored breath when they breathe out after having held in. If one is rather lazy, and merely has himself rubbed with unguents, I hear the blows of the hand slapping his shoulders, the sound varying according as the massagist strikes with flat or hollow palm. If a ballplayer begins to play and to count his throws, it's all up for the time being. Meanwhile there is a sudden brawl, or a thief is caught, or there is some one in the bath who loves to hear the sound of his own voice; and the bathers plunge into the swimming tank with loud splashing. These noises, however, are not without some semblance of excuse; but the hair plucker from time to time raises his thin, shrill voice in order to attract attention, and is only still himself when he is forcing cries of pain from some one else, from whose armpits he plucks the hairs. And above the din you hear the shouts of those who are selling cakes, sausages, and sweetmeats, besides all the hawkers of stuff from the cookshops, each with a different and characteristic cry.'
Such were the distractions of a Roman bath.