Pompeii, Its Life and Art. August 1840-1909 Mau
to murmur, and all night long, from the mountains of the interior, a gentle, refreshing stream of air flows down through the gardens, the roomy atriums and colonnades of the houses, the silent streets, and the buildings about the Forum, with an effect indescribably soothing.
Fig. 3.—View from Pompeii, looking south.
How shall I undertake to convey to the reader who has not visited Pompeii, an impression of the beauty of its situation? Words are weak when confronted with the reality. Sea, mountains, and plain—strong and pleasing background—great masses and brilliant yet harmonious colors, splendid foreground effects and hazy vistas, undisturbed nature and the handiwork of man, all are blended into a landscape of the grand style, the like of which I should not know where else to look for.
If we turn toward the south, we have at our feet the level plain of the Sarno, in antiquity as now—we may suppose—not checkered with villages but dotted here and there with groups of farm buildings, surrounded with stately trees. Beyond the plain rises the lofty barrier of Monte Sant' Angelo, thickly wooded in places, its summit standing out against the sky in a long, beautiful profile, which, toward the right, breaks up into bold, rugged notches; the side of the mountain below is richly diversified with deep valleys, projecting ridges, and terraces that in the distance seem like steps, where among vineyards and olive orchards stand two villages fair to look on, Gragnano and Lettere, so near that individual houses can be clearly distinguished. Further west the plain before us opens out upon the sea, while the mountains are continued in the precipitous coast of the peninsula of Sorrento. Height crowds upon height, with villages wreathed in olive orchards lying between. Here the hills descend in terraces to the sea, covered with vegetation to the water's edge; there the covering of soil has been cast off from the steep slopes, exposing the naked rock, which shines in the afternoon sun with a reddish hue that wonderfully accords with the dark shades of the foliage and the brilliant blue of the sea. Further on the tints become duller, and the sight is blurred; only with effort can we distinguish Sorrento, resting on cliffs that rise almost perpendicularly from the line of the shore. Further still the outline of the peninsula sinks into the sea and gives place to Capri, island of fantastic shape, whose crags rising sheer from the water stand out sharply in the bright sunlight.
But we look toward the north, and the splendid variety of form and color vanishes; there stands only the vast, sombre mass of the great destroyer, Vesuvius, towering above the city and the plain. The sun as it nears the horizon veils the bare ashen cone with a mantle of deep violet, while the cloud of smoke that rises from the summit shines with a golden glow. Far above the base the sides are covered with vineyards, among which small groups of white houses can here and there be seen. West of us the outline of the mountain descends in a strong, simple curve to the sea. Just before it blends with the shore there rise behind it distant heights wrapped in blue haze, the first of moderate elevation, then others more prominent and further to the left. They are the heights along the north shore of the Bay of Naples—Gaurus crowned with the monastery of Camaldoli, famous for its magnificent view; the cliffs of Baiae, the promontory of Misenum, and the lofty cone of Epomeo on the island of Ischia. So the eye traverses the whole expanse of the Bay; Naples itself, hidden from our view, lies between those distant heights and the base of Vesuvius.
But meanwhile the sun has set behind Misenum; its last rays are lighting up the cloud of smoke above Vesuvius and the summit of Monte Sant' Angelo. The brilliancy of coloring has faded; the weary eye finds rest in the soft afterglow. We also may take leave of these beautiful surroundings, and inquire into the beginnings of the city which was founded here.
CHAPTER II
BEFORE 79
When Pompeii was founded we do not know. It is more than likely that a site so well adapted for a city was occupied at an early date. The oldest building, the Doric temple in the Forum Triangulare, is of the style of the sixth century B.C.; we are safe in assuming that the city was then already in existence.[2] The founders were Oscans. They belonged to a widely scattered branch of the Italic stock, whose language, closely related with the Latin, has been imperfectly recovered from a considerable number of inscriptions, so imperfectly that in each of the longer inscriptions there still remain words the meaning of which is obscure or doubtful. From this language the name of the city came; for pompe in Oscan meant 'five.' The word does not, however, appear in its simple form; we have only the adjective derived from it, pompaiians, 'Pompeian.' If we are right in assuming that the name appeared in Oscan, as it does in Latin, in the plural form, it was probably applied first to a gens, or clan, and thence to the city; the Latin equivalent of Pompeii would be Quintii. Pompeii was thus the city of the clan of the Pompeys, as Tarquinii was the city of the Tarquins, and Veii the city of the Veian clan. The name Pompeius was common in Pompeii down to the destruction of the city, and in other Campanian towns, notably Puteoli, to much later times.
In order to follow the course of events at Pompeii, it will be necessary to pass briefly in review the main points in the history of Campania. The Campanian Oscans, sprung from a rude and hardy race, became civilized from contact with the Greeks, who at an early period had settled in Cumae, in Dicaearchia, afterward Puteoli, and in Parthenope, later Naples; and the coast climate had an enervating effect upon them. When toward the end of the fifth century B.C. the Samnites, kinsmen of the Oscans, left their rugged mountain homes in the interior and pressed down toward the coast, the Oscans were unable to cope with them. In 424 B.C. the Samnites stormed and took Capua, in 420, Cumae; and Pompeii likewise fell into their hands. But they were no more successful than the Oscans had been in resisting the influence of Greek culture. How strong this influence was may be seen in the remains at Pompeii. The architecture of the period was Greek; Greek divinities were honored, as Apollo and Zeus Milichius; and the standard measures of the mensa ponderaria were inscribed with Greek names.
In less than a hundred years new strifes arose between the more cultured Samnites of the plain and their rough and warlike kinsmen in the mountains. But Rome took a part in the struggle, and in the Samnite Wars (343–290 B.C.) brought both the men of the mountains and the men of the plain under her dominion. Although the sovereignty of Rome took the form of a perpetual alliance, the cities in reality lost their independence. The complete subjugation and Romanizing of Campania, however, did not come till the time of the Social War (90–88 B.C.) and the supremacy of Sulla; the Samnites staked all on the success of the popular party, and lost.
In the narrative of these events Pompeii is not often mentioned. At the time of the Second Samnite War, in the year 310 B.C., we read that a Roman fleet under Publius Cornelius landed at the mouth of the Sarno, and that a pillaging expedition followed the course of the river as far as Nuceria; but the country folk fell on the marauders as they were returning, and forced them to give up their booty. We have no definite information regarding the attitude of the Pompeians after the battle of Cannae (216 B.C.); probably they joined the side of Hannibal, who, however, was defeated by Marcus Marcellus near Nola in the following year, and was obliged to leave Campania to the Romans.
In the Social War, when, in the summer of 90 B.C., the Samnite army marched into Campania, Pompeii allied itself with the insurgents; as a consequence, in 89, it was besieged by Sulla, but without success. Two years later, Sulla went to Asia to conduct the war against Mithridates. Returning victorious in the spring of 83 B.C., he led his army into Campania, where he spent the winter of 83–82; his soldiers, grown brutal in the Asiatic war and accustomed to every kind of license, may have proved unwelcome guests for the Pompeians.
The sequel came in the year 80, when a colony of Roman veterans was settled in Pompeii under the leadership of Publius Sulla, a nephew of the Dictator. Cicero later made a speech in behalf of this Sulla, defending him against the charge that he had taken part in the conspiracy of Catiline and had tried to induce the old residents of Pompeii to join in the plot. From this speech we learn that Sulla's reorganization of the city was accomplished with so great regard for the interests of the Pompeians, that they ever after held him in grateful