1750. It is still the only means of access to the most important

buildings, and consists of a narrow passage cut through the solid lava. The ancient city lies at a depth of seventy feet below the modern level. The great difficulty of excavating Herculaneum, on account of the soil above being occupied by crowded habitations, induced the government to turn their attention more particularly to Pompeii. “Nearly seventeen centuries had rolled away when the City of Pompeii was disinterred from its silent tomb, all vivid with undimmed hues; its walls fresh as if painted yesterday, not a hue faded on the rich mosaic of its floors; in its forum the half-finished columns as left by the workman’s hands; in its gardens the sacrificial tripod; in its halls the chest of treasure; in its baths the strigil; in its theatres the counter of admission; in its saloons the furniture and the lamp; in its triclinia the fragments of the last feast; in its cubicula the perfumes and the rouge of faded beauty; and everywhere the bones and skeletons of those who once moved the springs of that minute, yet gorgeous machine of luxury and of life. “In the house of Diomed, in the subterranean vaults, twenty skeletons (one of a babe) were discovered in one spot by the door, covered by a fine ashen dust, that had evidently been wafted slowly through the apertures, until it had filled the whole space. There were jewels and coins, candelabra for unavailing light, and wine hardened in the amphoræ for a prolongation of agonised life. The sand, consolidated by damps, had taken the forms of the skeletons as in a cast; and the traveller may yet see the impression of a female neck and bosom of young and round proportions. “It seems to the inquirer as if the air had been gradually changed into a sulphurous vapour; the inmates of the vaults had rushed to the door to find it closed and blocked up by the scoria without, and, in their attempts to force it, had been suffocated with the atmosphere. “In the garden was found a skeleton with a key by its bony hand, and near it a bag of coins. This is believed to have been the master of the house, who had probably sought to escape by the garden, and been destroyed either by the vapours or some fragment of stone. Beside some silver vases lay another skeleton, probably of a slave. “The houses of Sallust and of Pansa, the temple of Isis, with the juggling concealments behind the statues--the lurking place of its holy oracles--are now bared to the gaze of the curious. In one of the chambers of that temple was found a huge skeleton with an axe by the side of it: two walls had been pierced by the axe--the victim could penetrate no farther. In the midst of the city was found another skeleton, by the side of which was a heap of coins and many of the mystic ornaments of the fane of Isis.”[52] [52] Bulwer’s “Last Days of Pompeii.” Linen and fishing nets; loaves of bread with the impress of the baker’s name; even fruits, as walnuts, almonds, peach-stones, and chestnuts, were distinctly recognisable. Eggs have been found whole and empty, and a jar of oil had olives still floating in it; the oil burnt upon application of flame, but the fruit was flavourless. Very few jewels were discovered, which shows that the inhabitants had time to escape; a wooden comb was found with teeth on both sides, closer on one side than the other. Lace fabricated of pure gold, a folding parasol similar to those now in use, a case of surgeon’s instruments, balances, sculptors’ tools, chisels and compasses, writing materials, vessels of white cut and coloured glass, coals collected for fuel, and wine still remaining in jars, may all be found in the curious catalogue of articles that had braved the lapse of time. Other circumstances there are which claim our better feelings. At the city gate, the sentinel, faithful to his trust, was found in his sentry box, a skeleton, clothed in “The very armour he had on,” when his dreadful doom overtook him; in the barracks, near the triangular forum, malefactors were found in the public stocks; the crumbling remains of prisoners were discovered in the dungeons near the temple of Jupiter, no one in that hour of general horror and confusion having thought of them or of their wretchedness, in being thus immured alive. The bones of the ass, that worked the baker’s mill, were found there; the skeletons of horses remained in the cribs in which they had been stabled for the last time. The discoveries that had been made long before the arrival of Prince Elbœuf, and which were communicated to the French Academy of Science, 1689, were remembered by the Neapolitan Government, and in the beginning of the year 1749 we have the first authentic reference to the ancient city of Pompeii. “On the 18th of January, at a place called Civita,” so runs the official announcement, “not far from Torre dell’ Annunciata, where the ancient Pompeii may have been, was found an apartment decorated with sixteen charming little dancing females brightly coloured, two centaurs and figures, bands of arabesques forming panels with Cupids in the midst, and twelve fauns dancing on a rope, all upon a black ground.” (Pitture d’Ercolano, vol. i., p. 93, tavole 17 to 28, and vol. iii., tavole 28 to 35 inclusive.) They are very small figures, and have since been removed to the Museo Borbonico. About the same time a labourer, whilst ploughing in the neighbouring fields, found a statue of brass. Among the earliest buildings excavated at Pompeii was the Amphitheatre; it was cleared in 1755, and seems to have been capable of holding ten thousand people (Pompeiana, p. 259). In the amphitheatre, games were held, gladiators fought for their lives with wild beasts, or with one another, and these savage spectacles were under the particular superintendence of an edile. We are informed by Dion Cassius, that the eruption came on whilst the populace were assembled in the theatre, but which of the theatres is meant, as there were several, remains doubtful. Thus far is certain, that sufficient time was left for escape, as no skeletons were found in either of them. From the seats of this amphitheatre may certainly be obtained the grandest view of the mountain, and if, as Bulwer’s admirable romance “the Last Days of Pompeii” depicts it, the assembly was held on this spot, the first signs of the coming destruction would have been seen by all the multitude. An announcement connected with these performances has since been discovered upon the walls of the Basilica. A placard--the playbill of those times--announced that the troops of gladiators belonging to Ampliatus would contend in the amphitheatre on the 17th of May, and that another exhibition would take place on the 31st, exactly three months before the destruction of the city. The Temple of Isis was accidentally discovered in 1765, by some workmen employed in making a subterraneous aqueduct to Torre dell’ Annunciata. These discoveries induced Charles III. to transfer his attention exclusively to Pompeii (Pompeiana, p. 5). The Triangular Forum, the Temple of Æsculapius, and the two great theatres were all laid open in the course of two or three successive years. These buildings are all in the same quarter of the town, but quite remote from the great forum and public buildings which were not discovered until 1816. It is a remarkable fact that Fontana, the great architect, carried a subterraneous canal in 1592 directly under the court of the Temple of Isis. He was employed to convey the waters of the river Sarno to the town of Torre dell’ Annunziata; and it seems wonderful that the existence of this interesting city was not made known at the time. The situation of Pompeii, as it originally stood upon an elevation surrounded by a fertile plain, is well shown in the accompanying view. The eminence marked in the woodcut by the long pale light mounds on the right between the tower of a farm-house and the base of the volcano, is the site of the city. Pompeii was never buried beneath the surface of the ground; on the contrary, many of its walls were always _conspicuous_, as, for instance, that at the back of the tragic theatre. The locality seems to have been known to the peasants of the vicinity by the name of _civita_ (city). The rains of successive seasons may probably have carried away most of the stones and ashes that fell around the city, whilst the walls of the houses themselves would serve to retain all that had fallen upon them. Other villas also were excavated at Gragnano, the ancient Stabiæ, and most of their decorations were removed to the Museo Borbonico. The baths discovered at Stabiæ, in 1827, were very interesting. They are described in “Gell’s Pompeiana,” 2nd series, vol. i. pp. 131 and 140. [Illustration: Bay of Naples. The river Sarnus. Mounds marking the extent of Pompeii. VIEW OF VESUVIUS, FROM BETWEEN CASTELLAMARE AND GRAGNANO.] For our present purpose, the public buildings and temples of Pompeii and Herculaneum require a less detailed account; a slight enumeration of them, however, is necessary to show the extent and importance of the community, whose taste and refinement required such dwellings for their private enjoyment, and also to prove that the buildings, from which many of the designs on the walls of the Pompeian Court have been taken, do not owe their origin to the slight and flimsy taste prevailing among the frequenters of a seaside town in the modern sense of the word, but to the higher refinement and habits of those who, leaving Rome in the heat of a summer sun, sought the ease and indulgence of a life such as Campania alone afforded, and yet could not tolerate the contrast of an inferior art around them. This is proved by a comparison of the Pompeian decorations with those of the same period in the baths of Titus, at Rome. The same style and the same peculiarities of taste are evident, and they perfectly illustrate the remarks of Vitruvius, which will be considered in a future place. When the French occupied Naples, the walls surrounding the city were entirely cleared; this was in October, 1812, and in the March following the street of tombs. Murat defrayed most of the expenses of excavation, and in a short time the Forum and Basilica, with the adjacent buildings, were laid open. At one time 3000 men were employed in the work of exploration. The Forum (1816) is the largest and by far the grandest spot in Pompeii. It is surrounded by a Grecian Doric colonnade, the Temple of Jupiter, two triumphal arches, forming the north end, and the Temple of Venus and Basilica on the west. Facing the Temple of Jupiter were large buildings, profusely decorated with statues, called the Curiæ and Ærarium, and the remaining side of the forum was occupied by various buildings, among them the Pantheon and the Chalcidicum of Eumachia; these were excavated between 1817 and 1821. The discovery of the public baths did not take place till 1824. These contributed materially to a better comprehension of many passages in ancient authors, being more perfect examples than the vast ranges for similar purposes still existing at Rome. Tlie general result of the Pompeian excavations up to the present time may be thus summed up; three forums, nine temples, a basilica, a chalcidicum, three piazze, an amphitheatre, two theatres, a prison, double baths, nearly one hundred houses and shops, several villas, town walls, six gates, and twelve tombs. The impression likely to be produced on the mind of a spectator from the scene in its present condition, may be gathered from the following passages extracted from my own journal, recording my first visit to Pompeii, September 16th, 1843. JOURNAL. “By half-past ten we were at the railway station, just outside the gates of Naples, and immediately started for Pompeii. The line of rail continues along the shore of the bay; nothing can exceed the bustle, confusion, and want of system on this amusing road. There exists neither distinction of classes nor limitation of luggage, so that fruit-stalls and puppet-shows--Polichinello, by the way, is here in his native land--are heaped together in the carriages. The first station we reached was Portici, the next Resina, accompanied by the classic cry of Ercolano--signore, Porta d’Ercolano--then Torre del Greco, where heaps of lava piled one upon the other, attest the awful eruption of the last century. Torre dell’ Annunciata being the nearest station to Pompeii we alighted here, and proceeded along a dusty road, lined with cactus, poplar, stone pine, and the castor-oil tree. Festoons of the richest vines hung from tree to tree, and the black clusters peeped out beneath the broad-spread leaves, already beginning to change into the gold of the approaching Autumn. The fields were teeming with corn, hemp, and cotton. No beggars, the pest of Naples, crowded round our carratella, and the dust which rolled in dense clouds was our only annoyance. We now turned our thoughts to Pompeii. A small guard house of soldiers marked the entrance to these classic precincts, and for some distance further the road was planted with willows, producing a rich and solemn effect, and well preparing us for the street of tombs which soon broke upon our view. The road was lined with tombs for a considerable distance before we approached the city gate, called Porta d’Ercolano, on the Herculaneum side; but previously to examining the tombs, we diverged to the right to explore the villa of Diomed, where we found everything in exact accordance with the description of Sir William Gell and Mr. Malkin’s work, ‘Pompeii,’ by the Society of Entertaining Knowledge. “The tombs are all small but minutely ornamented, the upper parts still remain, and they appear altogether much more complete than I had expected. The gate of Herculaneum, with its grooves, sentry box, and road-pavements, corresponds exactly with prints and descriptions given by numerous travellers. “At this point of view, little is really wanting. The eye pursues a long line of ascending road, with tombs and thick trees on each side, broken only by the gate of the city, through the arch of which a long continuation of houses is clearly visible. We entered the city; everything is on a small scale, but the walls at this entrance to the city seem high in proportion; the footway and carriage-road remain undisturbed, and still retain the track of chariot wheels. The motion and noise of inhabitants alone seem wanting--no decay is visible, and the impression produced by the scene was that of a populous city during church time. We wandered on through streets and lanes, prying into buildings both public and private, after the manner of that wonderful prince mentioned in the ‘Arabian Nights Entertainments,’ who explored a city, the inhabitants of which had been turned into stone. “In the shops, many of the walls remain perfect, roofs alone have disappeared, but counters, doorways, and depositaries are just such as we see daily at Naples, and scarcely inferior in point of freshness. “The mosaic strewn floors are wonderfully perfect--a little patching and inequality of level caused by the previous earthquake are here and there perceptible; the chief difficulty at first is to know the floor from the pavement, that is, to distinguish the inside of a house from the courtyard. All external walls were plastered and coloured, so that a mistake might easily arise. “The Houses of the Quæstor, Sallust, and the Faun, are exquisite specimens of proportion and arrangement in domestic building. The beautifully painted walls, columns, and inlaid marble or mosaic floor, combine with the deep blue sky, forming so glorious a whole that the rooflessness is forgotten, and the eye reposes with delight on the assembled harmonies. “The whole city is encompassed by enormous mounds of debris, under which it was formerly buried. These lumps are now caked together, and in their sloping sides trees have already sprung up, so that all appearance of _rubbish_ is fortunately concealed. “I was greatly disappointed with the scale of many objects, especially the Baths. Sir William Gell’s views are very correct, but the living figures introduced are on an utterly false scale. The Telamons, a series of terra-cotta figures, tinted red, with yellow hair and drapery, supporting the frieze, seem, in his pictures, the size of life, whereas they are only two feet high, one-third in fact of the size they are made to appear in his drawings. “Modern roofs are extended over all parts retaining ornament, stucco, or paintings; some of the finest mosaics are carefully boarded over--the famous lion, for instance--whilst others are protected by coarse glass frames with slides such as we use for cucumber-beds in kitchen gardens. A beautiful marble pavement attracted our attention, in the house of Actæon or Sallust, but the great mosaic of Darius is not visible, being plastered over preparatory to its removal to Naples. The borders alone remain uncovered. The Forum, with its Basilica, temples of Jupiter, Vesta, and Venus, are only realisations of my previous conception, allowing, as before, for the reduction of size. The best mosaics, paintings, statues and bronzes have been removed to Naples, but their place is frequently supplied by copies, which serve equally well to illustrate their effect. “The tragic theatre is complete in form; the stone seats, however, have nearly all disappeared. The amphitheatre is considerably distant from the rest of the excavations; it is remarkably perfect, and the view of Vesuvius from the summit of this building is surprisingly grand. It contrasts strangely with the beautiful limestone range of mountains on the other side of the bay. Vesuvius appears more rugged and frowning in this aspect--beheld from the remains of its victim--than from the more-frequently painted scene, the Chiaja of Naples. The deep blue and gray-brown of the volcano is studded with white dots, each of which is a villa or hermitage, creeping up to the mouth of the crater, regardless of the warnings of the buried cities, and the devastation at its roots in Torre del Greco, and in Nola of the plain beyond. They seem like flies settled on the head of a sleeping monster, or, to speak in better phrase, like white sails on the calm and azure sea, which, at the moment I am writing, seems incapable of harbouring the terrors and destruction which mankind so frequently experience, and which two days ago we saw in all their sublimity. “In the baths of Pompeii a slight refreshment was offered us, and at a little farm-house in the neighbourhood of the amphitheatre, we enjoyed a more substantial meal. The comic theatre is small, but much more perfect than the one previously visited. In all the public buildings a commencement of restoration after the earthquake was clearly visible, especially in the forum. “Vegetation takes root, at every opportunity, between cracks of stones, or wherever mould is collected; grass there is none. The wild fig and the luxuriant fern are the most frequent intruders, but they do not spread sufficiently to afford shelter, and the walls themselves are not high enough to serve as protection against the scorching sun. As the sun neared the horizon, we were warned to depart, and, mounting our car in preference to the railway, we rattled off along the high road, well pleased with a journey that, after defraying all expenses, did not exceed the cost of 3_s._ 4_d._ So ended my first day at Pompeii, 1843. “I could not help contrasting all this with our first visit to Herculaneum, which is entirely underground, imbedded in hard tufa, and exposed only in small portions protruding here and there, where we threaded long caverns and galleries cut in the wet, cold, and dripping material, the bad vapours of which are very dangerous. I would compare Herculaneum to a geological fossil half worked out of the compact material which surrounds it. There is an important difference in the overwhelming of the two cities. Pompeii was covered solely with fine dust and powdered scoria, all _dry_ but rendered compact by the great pressure of the fallen mass. Herculaneum was filled up by a dense rolling liquid, or rather paste of fine powder mixed with boiling _water_ strongly impregnated with sulphur, and forming what has now become a perfectly hard compact stone, and only to be removed with the axe. In Pompeii all excavations are carried on with the shovel, as the dry powder easily gives way.” The private houses of Pompeii have been variously named, sometimes from an inscription on the door post, or from the subject of some principal painting, at other times from the supposed occupation or condition of the owner, or from a peculiar object found in the dwelling; and not unfrequently the presence of some distinguished person at the time of excavation has conferred a lasting title on some particular remains. The application of these names will be seen in the houses of Pansa, of Meleager, the Quæstor, the Surgeon, the Fountain, and that of Queen Caroline. Some of the houses have had the names changed, as that of the Tragic Poet is now called the House with Homeric Paintings. All the houses seem to have been buried somewhat higher than the top of the ground floor. Upon this bed of ashes is found a layer of ashes mixed with mould, and remains of buildings to the depth of seven feet. The moisture retained in the vegetable mould had destroyed the surface of the paintings, and not unfrequently the pattern was seen on the mould to which the stucco still adhered. In this manner has the decoration of the upper apartments been destroyed, and the pressure of superincumbent masses has crumbled the woodwork. That the houses had upper ranges of chambers is evident from the remains of staircases leading to them both within and without. The first floors were nobly paved, mosaics having been found at various levels one above the other. Ceilings also were variously decorated with paintings like the walls, and sometimes composed of stucco. Mr. Falkener (pp. 66 and 67) observed a gorgeously ornamented ceiling to a tablinum. It consisted of a large circle in a square panel boldly moulded, and enriched with stucco ornament, with ultramarine, vermilion, and purple colouring, together with a profusion of gilding. Fragments of equally elaborate ceilings were found in such a position as to lead to the conviction that they belonged to apartments of different stories, one above the other. The visitor to Pompeii is generally struck with the intensity and crudeness of the colours on the walls. This is easily accounted for in the necessity for the exclusion of light in hot countries; for with light heat comes also, and all who have visited Italy will remember the care with which the modern sitting rooms are darkened during daytime. The strength of these colours would thus be always _toned down_ by shade.[53] With all the variegation of colour in these Pompeian walls, one pervading principle may be observed, viz., that the strongest and darkest colours are confined to the bottom of the room. Thus if the dado, or lower part of the wall, be black, the rest will be red or yellow, and the ceiling white; and if the dado be red, the rest of the wall yellow or blue. If the dado be yellow, all the rest of the room will be white. [53] See page 65. [Illustration: ARRANGEMENT OF A POMPEIAN HOUSE. Painted Garden. Peristyle. Fauces. Ala. Cubiculum. Tablinum. Impluvium. INTERIOR OF THE ATRIUM OF THE HOUSE OF THE TRAGIC POET, ACCORDING TO THE RESTORATION OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.] The principal divisions of a Roman house consist of three square chambers, leading one into the other; the first and last of these are lighted by a square opening in the middle of the ceiling, but the central apartment is destitute of any means for the entrance of the daylight; in fact, it receives only such light as can be communicated from the rooms on either side; still as there was no actual partition between these chambers, beyond that made by curtains,[54] sufficient light must have obtained entrance, which could be modulated at pleasure. The name of this central room was the _Tablinum_. The first room, which is generally the largest, is called the _Atrium_, and has a square tank or basin in the middle of the floor to collect the water dropping from the roof, and to receive the falling rain, as the apartment is directly open to the sky. The aperture in the roof is not very large, and this arrangement for the free descent of rain affords two essential luxuries to the inhabitant of a southern climate--shade and moisture. In a country like our own it is scarcely possible to estimate their value. [54] Sir William Gell (vol. i. p. 160 of Pompeiana, Second Series) states that the iron rods on which curtains or draperies were suspended from column to column were discovered perfect in an excavation at Herculaneum in 1828. The further room had a larger aperture above, and the open space below was laid out with plants like a garden, bordered with columns, so that the narrow covered space left on each side formed a miniature cloister. It was called _Peristyle_, from the Greek words, meaning surrounded by columns. In the map of ancient Rome, made in the time of Septimius Severus, this arrangement in the private houses is distinctly visible. As in our modern houses, the proportions varied both according to the caprice of the owner, or the limitations of space. Some had a greater number of apartments, and others a double set. Not a few added an extensive series of domestic offices, dining-rooms, and bed chambers, some of them up stairs. Many houses had a second and third story of bed-rooms above the common level, but in all well constructed houses, whatever the rank of the owner, these three apartments, _Atrium_, _Tablinum_, and _Peristyle_, remain the _essential_ portions. Here, as much of the life of a leading citizen was public, he received his clients and allowed the slaves to wait upon him. It was only in the inner apartment, such as the œci and triclinia, that he could indulge in privacy. In the better class of houses, the _Atrium_ was generally surrounded by smaller rooms, called _cubicula_, and the square of the Atrium was broken by the further part being widened on each side =[T]= fashion, into _alæ_, or wings, which correspond to the transepts of our cathedrals. The _tablinum_, again, was narrowed by a partition which took off a side passage, called _fauces_, through which the servants passed from one end of the house to the other without disturbing those occupied in the middle chamber. The floor of this _tablinum_ was frequently ornamented with elegant pictures, in mosaic, as that of the Tragic Poet’s House, by the choragus teaching his actors, and distributing his masks (Gell, vol. i. pl. 45). The famous large mosaic, the Battle of Issus, in the House of the Faun, has already been mentioned. In some houses, but very rarely, there was a passage on both sides of the tablinum; as in the reproduction described in these pages, the House of the Coloured Capitals, and a few others, but the majority have one only. The reader may derive a clearer and certainly a more poetical idea of an ancient house from the following extracts from Sir Bulwer Lytton’s “Last Days of Pompeii.” The house which he describes is taken from a personal examination and the assistance of his antiquarian friend, Sir William Gell:-- “You enter then usually by a small entrance passage, called vestibulum, into a hall sometimes with--but more frequently without--the ornament of columns; around three sides of this hall are doors communicating with several bedchambers--among which is the porter’s--the best of these being usually appropriated to country visitors. At the extremity of the hall on either side to the right and left, if the house is large, there are two small recesses, rather than chambers, generally devoted to the ladies of the mansion; and in the centre of the tessellated pavement of the hall is invariably a square shallow reservoir for rain water--classically termed impluvium--which was admitted by an aperture in the roof above, the said aperture being covered at will by an awning. Near this impluvium, which had a peculiar sanctity in the eyes of the ancients, were sometimes--but at Pompeii more rarely than at Rome--placed images of the household gods. The hospitable hearth often mentioned by the Roman poets, and consecrated to the Lares, was at Pompeii almost invariably formed by a moveable brazier; while in some corner, often the most ostentatious place, was deposited a huge wooden chest, ornamented and strengthened by bands of bronze or iron, and secured by strong hooks upon a stone pedestal, so firmly as to defy the attempts of any robber to detach it from its position. It is supposed that this chest was the moneybox, or coffer, of the master of the house; though as no money has been found in any of the chests discovered at Pompeii, it is probable that it was sometimes rather designed for ornament than use. In this hall--or atrium, to speak classically--the clients and visitors of inferior rank were usually received. In the houses of the more ‘respectable,’ an atriensis, or slave peculiarly devoted to the service of the hall, was invariably retained, and his rank among his fellow-slaves was high and important. The reservoir in the centre must have been rather a dangerous ornament; but the centre of the hall was like the grass plot of a college, and interdicted to the passers to and fro, who found ample space in the margin. Right opposite the entrance at the other side of the hall, was an apartment (tablinum), in which the pavement was usually adorned with rich mosaics, and the wall covered with elaborate paintings. Here were usually kept the records of the family or those of any public office that had been filled by the owner; on one side of this saloon, if we may so call it, was often a dining-room or triclinium; on the other side, perhaps, what we should now term a cabinet of gems, containing whatever curiosities were deemed most rare and costly; and invariably a small passage for the slaves to cross to the further parts of the house without passing the apartments thus mentioned. These rooms all opened on a square or oblong colonnade, technically termed peristyle. If the house was small its boundary ceased with this colonnade, and in that case its centre, however diminutive, was ordinarily appropriated to the purpose of a garden, and adorned with vases of flowers placed upon pedestals; while under the colonnade, to the right and left, were doors admitting to bedrooms, to a second triclinium, or eating-room--for the ancients generally appropriated two rooms at least to that purpose, one for summer and one for winter, or perhaps one for ordinary, the other for festive occasions--and if the owner affected letters, a cabinet dignified by the name of library--for a very small room was sufficient to contain the few rolls of papyrus which the ancients deemed a notable collection of books. “At the end of the peristyle was generally the kitchen. Supposing the house was large, it did not end with the peristyle, and the centre thereof was not, in that case, a garden, but might be perhaps adorned with a fountain or basin for fish; and at its end, exactly opposite to the tablinum, was generally another eating room, on either side of which were bed rooms, and perhaps a picture saloon or pinacotheca. These apartments communicated again with a square or oblong space, usually adorned on three sides with a colonnade like the peristyle, and very much resembling the peristyle, only usually longer. This was the proper viridarium or garden, being commonly adorned with a fountain or statues, and a profusion of gay flowers; at its extreme end was the gardener’s-house; on either side beneath the colonnade were sometimes, if the size of the family required it, additional rooms. “At Pompeii, a second or third story was rarely of importance, being built only above a small part of the house and containing rooms for the slaves; differing in this respect from the more magnificent edifices of Rome, which generally contained the principal eating-room (or cœnaculum) on the second floor. The apartments themselves were ordinarily of small size; for in those delightful climes they received any extraordinary number of visitors in the peristyle (or portico), the hall, or in the garden; and even their banquet rooms, however elaborately adorned and carefully selected in point of aspect, were of diminutive proportions; for the intellectual ancients being fond of society, not of crowds, rarely feasted more than nine at a time, so that large dinner rooms were not so necessary with them as with us. But the suite of rooms seen at once from the entrance, must have had a very imposing effect: you beheld at once the hall richly paved and painted--the tablinum--the graceful peristyle, and if the house extended further, the opposite banquet-room, and the garden which closed the view with some gushing fount or marble statue. “The reader will now have a tolerable notion of the Pompeian houses, which resembled in some respects the Grecian, but mostly the Roman fashion of domestic architecture. In almost every house there is some difference in detail from the rest, but the principal outline is the same in all. In all, you find the hall, the tablinum, and the peristyle, communicating with each other; in all you find the walls richly painted; and in all the evidence of a people fond of the refining elegances of life. The purity of the taste of the Pompeians in decoration is, however, questionable; they were fond of the gaudiest colours, of fantastic designs; they often painted the lower half of their columns a bright red, leaving the rest uncoloured: and where the garden was small, its wall was frequently tinted to deceive the eye as to its extent, imitating trees, birds, temples, &c., in perspective; a meretricious delusion which the graceful pedantry of Pliny himself adopted with a complacent pride in its ingenuity.” The novelist then proceeds to describe the house known by the name of the Tragic Poet. (See plan No. 2 on page 38.) “You enter by a long and narrow vestibule, on the floor of which is the image of a dog in mosaic, with the well-known ‘Cave canem,’ or ‘Beware the dog.’ On either side is a chamber of some size: for the interior part of the house not being large enough to contain the two great divisions of private and public departments, these two rooms were set apart for the reception of visitors who, neither by rank nor familiarity, were entitled to admission in the penetralia of the mansion. “Advancing up the vestibule, you enter an atrium that, when first discovered, was rich in paintings, which in point of expression would scarcely disgrace a Raphael. You may see them now transplanted to the Neapolitan Museum; they are still the admiration of connoisseurs--they depict the parting of Achilles and Briseis. “Who does not acknowledge the force, the vigour, the beauty, employed in delineating the forms and faces of Achilles and the immortal slave? “On one side of the atrium, a small staircase admitted to the apartments for the slaves on the second floor; there also were two or three small bedrooms, the walls of which portrayed the Rape of Europa, the battle of the Amazons, &c. “You now enter the tablinum, across which, at either end, hung rich draperies of Tyrian purple, half withdrawn. On the walls was depicted a poet reading his verses to his friends; and in the pavement was inserted a small and most exquisite mosaic, typical of the instructions given by the director of the stage to his comedians. “You passed through the saloon, and entered the peristyle; and here, as I have said before was usually the case with smaller houses of Pompeii, the mansion ended. From each of the seven columns that adorned this court hung festoons of garlands; the centre, supplying the place of a garden, bloomed with the rarest flowers, placed in vases of white marble, that were supported on pedestals. At the left hand of this small garden was a diminutive fane, resembling one of those small chapels placed at the sides of roads in Catholic countries, and dedicated to the Penates; before it stood a bronze tripod; to the left of the colonnade were two small cubicula or bedrooms; to the right was the triclinium, in which the guests were now assembled. “This room is usually termed by the antiquaries of Naples, ‘The Chamber of Leda;’ and in the beautiful work of Sir William Gell, the reader will find an engraving from that most delicate and graceful painting of Leda presenting her new-born to her husband, from which the room derives its name. This charming apartment opened upon the fragrant garden. Round the table of citrean wood, highly polished and delicately wrought with silver arabesques, were placed the three couches, which were yet more common at Pompeii than the semicircular seat that had grown lately into fashion at Rome; and on these couches of bronze, studded with richer metals, were laid thick quiltings, covered with elaborate broidery, and yielding luxuriously to the pressure.” The following plans, pp. 38 and 39, are collected into one group to afford a more easy view of the differences in their general construction. They are not drawn to scale, and have no pretensions to detail. The principal apartments only are named upon them, and the following is a list of their chief peculiarities, together with the dates when they were excavated, and the various names by which they have been known. The first numbers correspond with those on the plans.