Many of their seals were preserved in this manner; consisting of an oblong piece of metal, stamped with letters of the motto; instruments very similar to those used in England for marking linen. Thus possessed of types and of ink, how little were the Romans removed from the discovery of the art and advantages of printing!
At the end of one of the streets[143], was discovered a skeleton of a Pompeian, who, apparently for the sake of sixty coins, a small plate, and a saucepan of silver, had remained in the house till the street was already half filled with volcanic matter. From the situation in which he was found, he had apparently been arrested in the act of escaping from the window. Two others were also found in the same street.
Only sixty skeletons[144] have been discovered in all; it is, therefore, clear, that the greater part of the inhabitants had found time to escape. There were found in the vault of a house in the suburbs, the skeletons of seventeen individuals, who appear to have sought refuge there from the showers of ashes which poured from the sky. There was also preserved, in the same place[145], a sketch of a woman, supposed to have been the mistress of the house, with an infant locked in her arms. Her form was imprinted upon the work, which formed her sepulchre; but only the bones remained. To these a chain of gold was suspended; and rings, with jewels, were upon her fingers. The remains of a soldier, also, were found in a niche, where, in all probability, he was performing the office of sentinel. His hand still grasped a lance, and the usual military accoutrements were also found there.
In one of the baths[146], as we have before stated, was found the skeleton of a female, whose arms and neck were covered with jewels. In addition to gold bracelets, was a necklace; the workmanship of which is marvellous. Our most skilful jewellers could make nothing more elegant, or of a better taste. It has all the beautiful finish of the Moorish jewels of Granada, and of the same designs which are to be found in the dresses of the Moorish women, and of the Jewesses of Tetuan, on the coast of Africa.
It is generally supposed, that the destruction of this city was sudden and unexpected; and it is even recorded, that the people were surprised and overwhelmed at once by the volcanic storm, while in the theatre. (Dionys. of Hal.) But to this opinion many objections may be raised, amongst which this; that the number of skeletons in Pompeii does not amount to sixty; and ten times this number would be inconsiderable, when compared with the extent and population of the city.
The most perfect and most curious object, however, that has yet been discovered, is a villa at a little distance from the town. It consists of three courts; in the third and largest is a pond, and in the centre a small temple. There are numerous apartments of every description, paved in mosaic, coloured and adorned with various paintings on the walls; all in a very beautiful style. This villa is supposed to have belonged to Cicero.
“The ruins of Pompeii,” says Mr. Eustace, “possess a secret power, that captivates and melts the soul! In other times, and in other places, one single edifice, a temple, a theatre, a tomb, that had escaped the wreck of ages, would have enchanted us; nay, an arch, the remnant of a wall, even one solitary column, was beheld with veneration; but to discover a single ancient house, the abode of a Roman in his privacy, the scene of his domestic hours, was an object of fond, but hopeless longing. Here, not a temple, nor a theatre, nor a house, but a whole city rises before us, untouched, unaltered—the very same as it was eighteen hundred years ago, when inhabited by Romans. We range through the same streets; tread the very same pavement; behold the same walls; enter the same doors; and repose in the same apartments. We are surrounded by the same objects; and out of the same windows we contemplate the same scenery. In the midst of all this, not a voice is heard—not even the sound of a foot—to disturb the loneliness of the place, or to interrupt his reflections. All around is silence; not the silence of solitude and repose, but of death and devastation:—the silence of a great city without one single inhabitant:
‘Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent.’
“Perhaps the whole world does not exhibit so awful a spectacle as Pompeii; and when it was first discovered, when skeletons were found heaped together in the streets and houses, when all the utensils, and even the very bread, of the poor suffocated inhabitants, were discernible, what a speculation must this ill-fated city have furnished to a thinking mind! To visit it even now, is absolutely to live with the ancient Romans; and when we see houses, shops, furniture, fountains, streets, carriages, and implements of husbandry, exactly similar to those of the present day, we are apt to conclude, that customs and manners have undergone but little alteration for the last two thousand years.”
“In walking through this city of the dead,” says Chateaubriand, “one idea has pursued me. As the labourers clear the different edifices, they remove whatever they discover,—household utensils, implements of divers trades, pieces of furniture, statues, MSS., &c., all of which are promiscuously carried to the Portici Museum. In my opinion, people might have employed their time better. Why not have left these things as they found them, and where they found them? Instead of their removal, they should have preserved them on the spot;—roofs, ceilings, floors, and windows, should have been carefully restored, in order to prevent the destruction of the walls and paintings. The ancient inclosure of the town should be rebuilt, the gates repaired, and a guard of soldiers stationed there, together with some individuals well versed in the arts. Would not this have been the most interesting museum in the world? A Roman town preserved quite entire, as if its inhabitants had issued forth but a quarter of an hour before!”