The people here, both men and women, look uncommonly handsome, which perhaps will make you think poorly of the Greeks and Sicilians. The bay has lost nothing in its impression of beauty from the scenes I have since contemplated; only the mountains appear less than my memory had represented them. The city is decidedly finer than Palermo, though while in that city, I was inclined to dispute its pre-eminence.
I staid a few days at Pompei, or rather at Torre dell’ Annunziata, in the beginning of October, and returned to it again at the middle of the month; but thinking I might as well save the time spent in walking backwards and forwards between these two places, I removed after a few days to a wine-house, which is close by the excavations. I could procure there neither coffee nor milk, but lived on meat, maccaroni, and love-apples. At first there was no cause for complaint, but after some days the landlord’s efforts began to relax, of which I complained on leaving him. He seemed conscious that he was in fault, and promised that if I would come again, he would treat me from beginning to end to my heart’s content. My chamber was indeed a sort of store-room, but if the apartment was not splendid, I had at least a clean pair of sheets. One large window opened down to the floor, and on to the terraced roof of the lower part of the house, which was easily accessible by means of the rubbish accumulated from the excavations behind; nearly opposite to this, but high up in the room, there was another small window, which I usually left open, while I shut the larger one. My landlord one morning observing this arrangement, cautioned me very gravely against it, recommending me either to shut both windows, or to leave both open; for said he, if the air come in on one side, and find a free passage, it will go out without doing any harm; but if it is confined, you will certainly suffer from it. I shall quote this dictum in England when I hear about draughts.
In the beginning of November I returned again to Pompei, and now that I fancy myself pretty well acquainted with what is to be seen there, I shall proceed to give you some account of this most interesting place, which I have hitherto postponed, with the intention of combining all I had to say on the subject, in one general view.
The first object at Pompei on the south side of the city, is a large square court, surrounded with columns, usually called the Soldiers’ Quarters. Parts of almost all the columns are standing, and many remain of the full height, and with their capitals, but no part of the original construction above the capitals now exists; however, when first dug out, the decayed woodwork still retained its forms, and one angle has been restored precisely on the ancient model; at least such is the information given to us on the spot, and it is this restoration I am about to describe to you. The architrave consists of a piece of timber, slight for its position, and shewing distinctly the origin of the small and insufficient architrave found in the examples of the Roman Doric, and considered afterwards as constituting a part of the character of that order. Round the court are a number of little chambers, and in some places the remains of staircases. There is a projecting gallery under the portico, which communicates with the chambers of the upper story. This gallery was defended by a railing with intersecting braces, the top of which is rather lower than the capitals of the columns, and the gallery is therefore partly in the roof; the tiles are of two sorts, flat, with raised edges laid upon the rafters, and semicircular, placed over the joints of the first. The chimneys are covered with similar tiles, but a projection on each side, open beneath, gives an exit for the smoke in a downward direction. We observe from the different styles of workmanship, that the walls were built at various times, but never in a very solid manner, and that the columns, which were originally of a slender Greek Doric, of pleasing proportion, and well suited to the small size, and simple character of the place, were afterwards covered with an enormously thick coat of very indifferent stucco. On the lower parts of all the columns this stucco was painted red, on the upper part of four of them, two in the middle of each longer side of the court, blue; and on the others alternately red and yellow. The whole of this stucco and painted work must be considered as a gross deformity, and I hope you do not suppose that what I have said on former occasions in favour of rich detail, and of colouring, was intended to include every multiplication of small parts, or every mode of diversifying colour. In its original state, as a court surrounded by seventy-four stone columns of a sober gray colour, it must have had a pleasing and respectable, if not a magnificent appearance. Columns alone are sufficient to produce that effect, for which I want a word, and which I find it difficult to explain to my own satisfaction, but which in the disposition of the principal parts, corresponds with the richness produced by the smaller elements of sculpture, moulding, and carving. A modern Italian church with its broken entablatures, multiplied pilasters, and corners of pilasters, festoons, niches, and broken pediments over them, abounds more in detail than a Greek temple. Yet at a little distance the former looks poor, because it wants this richness in the distribution of the larger parts.
On one side of the court is a recess, ornamented with Ionic columns. This mixture of the orders seems to have been common in ancient times, and is not objectionable in a circumstance like this, where the more ornamented work belongs to a smaller and more highly finished building within the larger. Where the second order forms the internal part of the same building, as in the Greek propylæa, it is more doubtful; and must at once be reprobated in the temple of Apollo at Bassæ, near Phygaleia, if it be true that one Corinthian column existed in the internal, Ionic peristyle of a temple externally Doric.
We pass from this court to another, where a few brick columns irregularly placed afforded a sheltered communication to the two theatres; and thence turn to the right into the small, or covered theatre. The scene is here a plain wall, and is said to be of modern erection. The seats are of lava, moulded at the edge, except the lower ones for the senators, &c. who are supposed to have had the convenience of cushions, and perhaps of a sort of stool or chair. A portion remains of the rich marble pavement of the orchestra. Over the side entrances are spaces supposed to have been occupied, each by a sort of box for some distinguished persons, but the position of the staircases seems to announce an intimate connexion with the actors. Like most other buildings at Pompei, this edifice exhibits traces of the earthquake which preceded by sixteen years, the fatal eruption, and of consequent restorations.
The Large Theatre has been lined with marble; and the Scene is ornamented with niches and advancing pedestals, some of which apparently supported columns and statues. The arrangement is very much like that at Taormina, and with the assistance of these, and of the one at Herculaneum, we may form some idea of the architectural arrangement and decoration of the ancient stage. The style was not very pure, but nevertheless may have possessed its share of beauty, considered merely as ornament. Perhaps the mode here adopted, may have given birth to the lighter and more fantastic architecture, so abundantly painted in the baths and chambers of the ancients.
In this theatre we find a recess in the lower part of the sedile, and marks in the stone, apparently of the means of affixing a permanent chair. The recess is opposite the middle of the scene, but the holes for the chair are not in the centre of the recess; but would leave room for another moveable chair by its side. In front of the chairs there is an inscription to Marcus Holconius Rufus, Duumvir. Some of the seats are numbered, by which we learn that 15¼ inches were allowed for each spectator.
From the upper part of the great theatre we pass into another large court, surrounded with columns of the Doric order; they are of stone, covered with a thin, fine, hard coat of stucco, probably coeval with the building. This court is much larger than that of the Soldiers’ Quarters, but from its irregularity, and much more imperfect condition, is less interesting. We enjoy from it however, and from the upper part of the theatre, a most beautiful view of part of the bay of Naples, the mountain range behind Castellammare and Sorrento, and the island of Capri. Within the court are the ruins of the Temple of Hercules, hardly elevated above the soil. It is called also the Great Temple, a name which seemed ridiculous enough to me, just come from Sicily, where one column of the temple of Jupiter at Agrigentum contains as much solid material, as the whole of such an edifice as this when perfect. Some persons have doubted whether it was a temple at all, since from a comparison of the different dimensions, it appears probable that there were seven columns in front,[[40]] and eleven on the sides, including those of the angles, but the unequal number in front is not decisive against its religious character, though it probably in that case announces a very high antiquity; and this idea is favoured by other circumstances. The large and heavily projecting capital is exceedingly weather-worn, and the manner in which the fragments were found, indicates that it lay as a ruin even before the earthquake. There are some little buildings just in front of it, which form a puzzle to the antiquaries, but I shall content myself with endeavouring to explain what I think I do understand, and not lose myself in unsatisfactory discussions on objects which I do not. There is a semicircular bench near the temple, suited alike for prospect or conversation. This court communicates with the street by means of a graceful Ionic portico of the same taste as that in the Soldiers’ Quarters; but as this is a more perfect example, I shall endeavour to give you some idea of it. Two pilasters, each with a three quarter column joined to it, and six insulated columns form the front of a recess; the lower diameter of the column appears to have been 2 feet, the upper is 20¼ inches, the flutes finishing square, one inch and one third under the necking. The capitals have four similar faces, the volutes being formed something in the manner of the external one of the angular capital of a Greek Ionic. In that, however, if we take our example from the temple of Minerva Polias at Athens (see Stuart), the lower rim of the volute on each face is curved on the plan so as to keep it perpendicularly, or nearly perpendicularly, under the upper rim, and the face of the volute consequently upright. In these, the curve of the volute begins much earlier, leaving but a small flat surface above the ovolo, and the lower part of the rim is returned parallel, or very nearly parallel to the diagonal of the abacus, which, giving to the volute the appearance of looking downwards, produces a very marked character. The eggs are very small, not exceeding one third of the whole height of the convex moulding, or ovolo, which they adorn, or rather they are not eggs, but a berry, of which half only is shewn, laid on a double leaf. The entablature used both for this order and the ancient Corinthian of Italy, has the dentils very narrow and close together, more like the ends of boards placed vertically, than of joists or rafters. In this instance they are twice as numerous as the beads of the moulding immediately above them. The Pompeians were evidently fond of strongly marked lines in their mouldings. To produce that effect they introduced very deep sinkings in various parts, both in the Doric and Ionic orders.
Behind the theatre is an oblong court called the Schools, surrounded by a neat Doric colonnade. The name has been given it on account of two pedestals, one about 8 inches higher than the other, and a flight of stone steps connected with them which rises above the highest. It may have been of the nature of an auction room, but nothing that I know of has been invented to account for the two pedestals thus placed, and for the steps rising above both. Adjoining to this court is the Temple of Isis, which was never perhaps very beautiful, but it is now difficult to trace the original design under the incumbering load of more recent stucco. An inscription assures us that this edifice was re-built in consequence of an earthquake, and if, as seems probable, we may understand this of the earthquake of the year 63, it will fix the date of this bad stucco work. The columns of the cell are older, and of stone, but not in their original positions; those of the court, brick; all appear to have been stuccoed at the same time. This temple can hardly be said to offer simplicity of design; variety of parts it certainly has, and abundance of details; it finds many admirers, and in its present state of ruin offers some striking effects, and probably did so when perfect. It was a picturesque, rather than a beautiful object, and the smallness of the court is an advantage to it.