The wonders of the world

by John Loraine Abbott

To every traveler through the southern part of Europe, Pompeii and Herculaneum are, of course, the objects of earliest attention and deepest interest. The tragic story of these buried towns is now familiar to most intelligent persons; while the vivid romance of Bulwer makes one feel as if he had known the inhabitants, and almost as though he had been a witness of the catastrophe. The story is recorded not more faithfully by the younger Pliny, in his celebrated letter to Tacitus, than it is plainly read in the material evidence, whose unexpected discovery, almost in our own day, has supplied both to the antiquarian and the geologist, most valued and truthful evidences; contemporary records, expounding to the antiquary an interesting chapter of human history, filled with the minutest details of personal interest, and to the geologist, the close of one and the commencement of another of those great cycles of change, whose history, strangely connected in this instance with the vicissitudes of his own race, engrosses his delighted attention.

A great and rich town, which, after sleeping eighteen centuries in its deep and dark grave, is again shone on by the sun, and stands among other cities as much a stranger to them as any one of its former inhabitants would be among men of the present day, is surely one of the wonders of the world; and such is Pompeii. The distance from Naples to Pompeii, is little more than ten English miles. Near the Torre dell’Annunziata, to the left, and amid hills planted with vineyards, the town itself, which, throwing off its shroud of ashes, came forth from its grave, breaks on the view. The buildings are without roofs, which are supposed to have been destroyed by the lava, or torn off by the hurricane which preceded it. The tracks of the wheels which anciently rolled over the pavement are still visible. An elevated path runs by the side of the houses, for foot-passengers; and, to enable them in rainy weather to pass more commodiously to the opposite side, large flat stones, three of which take up the width of the road, were laid at a distance from each other. As the carriages, in order to avoid these stones, were obliged to use the intermediate spaces, the tracks of the wheels are there most visible. The whole of the pavement is in good condition: it consists merely of considerable pieces of lava, which, however, are not cut as at present into squares, and may have been on that account the more durable.

The part which was first cleared, is supposed to have been the main street of Pompeii; but this is much to be doubted, as the houses on both sides, with the exception of a few, were evidently the habitations of common citizens, and were small and provided with booths. The street itself likewise is narrow: two carriages only could go abreast; and it is very uncertain whether it ran through the whole of the town; for, from the spot where the moderns discontinued digging, to that where they recommenced, and where the same street is supposed to have been again found, a wide tract is covered with vineyards, which may perhaps occupy the places of the most splendid streets and markets, still concealed underneath.

Among the objects which attract particular attention, is a booth in which liquors were sold; the marble table within which, bears the marks of the cups left by the drinkers. Next to this is a house, the threshold of which is inlaid with a salutation in black stone, as a token of hospitality. On entering the habitations, the visitor is struck by the strangeness of their construction. The middle of the house forms a square, something like the cross passages of a cloister, often surrounded by pillars: it is cleanly, and paved with party-colored mosaic, which has an agreeable effect. In the middle is a cooling well, and on each side a little chamber, about ten or twelve feet square, but lofty, and painted with a fine red or yellow. The floor is of mosaic; and the door is made generally to serve as a window, there being but one apartment which receives light through a thick blue glass. Many of these rooms are supposed to have been bed-chambers, because there is an elevated, broad step, on which the bed may have stood, and because some of the pictures appear most appropriate to a sleeping-room. Others are supposed to have been dressing-rooms, from the fact that on the walls a Venus is described decorated by the Graces, added to which, little flasks and boxes of various descriptions have been found in them. The larger of these apartments served for dining-rooms, and in some are suitable accommodations for cold and hot baths.

The manner in which a whole room was heated, is particularly curious. Against the usual wall a second was erected, standing at a little distance from the first. For this purpose large square tiles were taken, having, like modern tiles, a sort of hook, thus keeping the first wall as it were off from them: a hollow space was thus left all around, from the top to the bottom, into which pipes were introduced, that carried the warmth into the chamber, and as it were rendered the whole of the place one stove. The ancients were also attentive to avoid the vapor or smell from their lamps. In some houses there is a niche made in the wall for the lamp, with a little chimney in the form of a funnel, through which the smoke escaped. Opposite to the house-door the largest room is placed: it is properly a sort of hall, for it has only three walls, being quite open in the fore part. The side rooms have no connection with each other, but are divided off in little cells, the door of each leading to a fountain.

Most of the houses consist of one such square, surrounded by rooms. In a few, some decayed steps seem to have led to an upper story, which is no longer in existence. Some habitations, however, probably belonging to the richer and more fashionable, are far more spacious. In these, a first court is often connected with a second, and even with a third, by passages: in other respects their arrangements are similar to those above described. Many garlands of flowers and vine-branches, and many handsome pictures, are still to be seen on the walls. The guides were formerly permitted to sprinkle these pictures with fresh water, in the presence of travelers, and thus revive their former splendor for a moment: but this is now strictly forbidden; and, indeed, not without reason, since the frequent watering might at length totally rot away the wall.

One of the houses belonged to a statuary, whose workshop is still full of the vestiges of his art. Another appears to have been inhabited by a surgeon, whose profession is equally evident from the instruments discovered in his chamber. A large country-house near the gate, undoubtedly belonged to a very wealthy man, and would, in fact, still invite inhabitants within its walls. It is very extensive, stands against a hill, and has many stories. Its finely decorated rooms are unusually spacious; and it has airy terraces, from which you look down into a pretty garden, that has been now again planted with flowers. In the middle of this garden is a large fishpond, and near that an ascent from which, on two sides, six pillars descend. The hinder pillars are the highest, the middle somewhat lower, and the front the lowest: they appear, therefore, rather to have propped a sloping roof, than to have been destined for an arbor. A covered passage, resting on pillars, incloses the garden on three sides; it was painted, and probably served in rainy weather as an agreeable walk. Beneath is a fine arched cellar, which receives air and light by several openings from without; consequently its atmosphere is so pure, that in the hottest part of summer it is always refreshing. A number of amphoræ, or large wine-vessels, are to be seen here, still leaning against the wall, as the butler left them when he carried up the last goblet of wine for his master. Had the inhabitants of Pompeii preserved these vessels with stoppers, wine might still have been found in them; but as it was, the stream of ashes running in, of course forced out the wine. More than twenty human skeletons of fugitives, who thought to save themselves here under ground, but who must have experienced a tenfold more cruel death than those suffered who were in the open air, were found in this cellar.

The destiny of the Pompeians must have been dreadful. It was not a stream of fire that encompassed their abodes: they could then have sought refuge in flight. Neither did an earthquake swallow them up; sudden suffocation would then have spared them the pangs of a lingering death. But a rain of ashes buried them alive BY DEGREES! Hear the delineation of Pliny: “A darkness suddenly overspread the country; not like the darkness of a moonless night; but like that of a closed room, in which the light is of a sudden extinguished. Women screamed, children moaned, men cried. Here, children were anxiously calling their parents; and there, parents were seeking their children, or husbands their wives; all recognized each other only by their cries. The former lamented their own fate, and the latter that of those dearest to them. Many wished for death, from the fear of dying. Many called on the gods for assistance: others despaired of the existence of the gods, and thought this the last eternal night of the world. Actual dangers were magnified by unreal terrors. The earth continued to shake, and men, half-distracted, to reel about, exaggerating their own fears, and those of others, by terrifying predictions.”

Such is the frightful but true picture which Pliny gives us of the horrors of those who were, however, far from the extremity of their misery. But what must have been the feelings of the Pompeians, when the roaring of the mountain and the quaking of the earth, awaked them from their first sleep? They also attempted to escape the wrath of the gods; and, seizing the most valuable things they could lay their hands upon in the darkness and confusion, endeavored to seek their safety in flight. In this street, and in front of the house marked with the friendly salutation on its threshold, seven skeletons were found: the first carried a lamp, and the rest had still between the bones of their fingers something that they wished to save. On a sudden they were overtaken by the storm which descended from heaven, and buried in the grave thus made for them. Before the above mentioned country-house, was still a male skeleton, standing with a dish in his hand; and, as he wore on his finger one of those rings which were allowed to be worn by Roman knights only, he is supposed to have been the master of the house, who had just opened the back garden gate with the intent of flying, when the shower overwhelmed him. Several skeletons were found in the very posture in which they had breathed their last, without having been forced by the agonies of death to drop the things they had in their hands. This leads to a conjecture, that the thick mass of ashes must have come down all at once, in such immense quantities as instantly to cover them. It can not otherwise be imagined how the fugitives could all have been fixed, as it were by a charm, in their position; in which manner their destiny was the less dreadful, seeing that Death suddenly converted them into motionless statues, and thus was stripped of all the horrors with which the fears of the sufferers had clothed him in imagination. But what then must have been the pitiable condition of those who had taken refuge in the buildings and cellars! Buried in the thickest darkness, they were secluded from everything but lingering torment; and who can paint to himself without shuddering, a slow dissolution approaching, amid all the agonies of body and of mind? The soul recoils from the contemplation of such images.

To proceed now to the public edifices. The temple of Isis is still standing, with its Doric pillars, and its walls painted with emblems of the service of the deity, such as the hippopotamus, cocoa-blossom, ibis, &c. A view of it is given in the cut. The sacred vessels, lamps and tables of Isis, are still to be seen. From a little chapel within, a poisonous vapor is said to have formerly arisen, which the heathen priests may have used for every species of deception. This vapor is said to have increased after the violent eruption of Vesuvius; but it has not latterly given out the slightest smell. A small Grecian temple, of which only two pillars remain, had been probably already destroyed by an earthquake, which, in the reign of Titus, preceded the dreadful irruption of the volcano. On the opposite side of this temple there is still an edifice, called the quarters of the soldiers, because all sorts of arms, pictures of soldiers, and a skeleton in chains, were found there. By others it has been considered as the forum of Pompeii.