BOOK THE THIRD
Chapter I
THE FORUM OF THE POMPEIANS. THE FIRST RUDE MACHINERY BY WHICH THE NEWERA OF THE WORLD WAS WROUGHT.
IT was early noon, and the forum was crowded alike with the busy and theidle. As at Paris at this day, so at that time in the cities of Italy,men lived almost wholly out of doors: the public buildings, the forum,the porticoes, the baths, the temples themselves, might be consideredtheir real homes; it was no wonder that they decorated so gorgeouslythese favorite places of resort--they felt for them a sort of domesticaffection as well as a public pride. And animated was, indeed, theaspect of the forum of Pompeii at that time! Along its broad pavement,composed of large flags of marble, were assembled various groups,conversing in that energetic fashion which appropriates a gesture toevery word, and which is still the characteristic of the people of thesouth. Here, in seven stalls on one side the colonnade, sat themoney-changers, with their glittering heaps before them, and merchantsand seamen in various costumes crowding round their stalls. On oneside, several men in long togas were seen bustling rapidly up to astately edifice, where the magistrates administered justice--these werethe lawyers, active, chattering, joking, and punning, as you may findthem at this day in Westminster. In the centre of the space, pedestalssupported various statues, of which the most remarkable was the statelyform of Cicero. Around the court ran a regular and symmetricalcolonnade of Doric architecture; and there several, whose business drewthem early to the place, were taking the slight morning repast whichmade an Italian breakfast, talking vehemently on the earthquake of thepreceding night as they dipped pieces of bread in their cups of dilutedwine. In the open space, too, you might perceive various petty tradersexercising the arts of their calling. Here one man was holding outribands to a fair dame from the country; another man was vaunting to astout farmer the excellence of his shoes; a third, a kind ofstall-restaurateur, still so common in the Italian cities, was supplyingmany a hungry mouth with hot messes from his small and itinerant stove,while--contrast strongly typical of the mingled bustle and intellect ofthe time--close by, a schoolmaster was expounding to his puzzled pupilsthe elements of the Latin grammar.' A gallery above the portico, whichwas ascended by small wooden staircases, had also its throng; though, ashere the immediate business of the place was mainly carried on, itsgroups wore a more quiet and serious air.
Every now and then the crowd below respectfully gave way as some senatorswept along to the Temple of Jupiter (which filled up one side of theforum, and was the senators' hall of meeting), nodding with ostentatiouscondescension to such of his friends or clients as he distinguishedamongst the throng. Mingling amidst the gay dresses of the betterorders you saw the hardy forms of the neighboring farmers, as they madetheir way to the public granaries. Hard by the temple you caught a viewof the triumphal arch, and the long street beyond swarming withinhabitants; in one of the niches of the arch a fountain played,cheerily sparkling in the sunbeams; and above its cornice rose thebronzed and equestrian statue of Caligula, strongly contrasting the gaysummer skies. Behind the stalls of the money-changers was that buildingnow called the Pantheon; and a crowd of the poorer Pompeians passedthrough the small vestibule which admitted to the interior, withpanniers under their arms, pressing on towards a platform, placedbetween two columns, where such provisions as the priests had rescuedfrom sacrifice were exposed for sale.
At one of the public edifices appropriated to the business of the city,workmen were employed upon the columns, and you heard the noise of theirlabor every now and then rising above the hum of the multitude: thecolumns are unfinished to this day!
All, then, united, nothing could exceed in variety the costumes, theranks, the manners, the occupations of the crowd--nothing could exceedthe bustle, the gaiety, the animation--where pleasure and commerce,idleness and labor, avarice and ambition, mingled in one gulf theirmotley rushing, yet harmonius, streams.
Facing the steps of the Temple of Jupiter, with folded arms, and a knitand contemptuous brow, stood a man of about fifty years of age. Hisdress was remarkably plain--not so much from its material, as from theabsence of all those ornaments which were worn by the Pompeians of everyrank--partly from the love of show, partly, also, because they werechiefly wrought into those shapes deemed most efficacious in resistingthe assaults of magic and the influence of the evil eye. His foreheadwas high and bald; the few locks that remained at the back of the headwere concealed by a sort of cowl, which made a part of his cloak, to beraised or lowered at pleasure, and was now drawn half-way over the head,as a protection from the rays of the sun. The color of his garments wasbrown, no popular hue with the Pompeians; all the usual admixtures ofscarlet or purple seemed carefully excluded. His belt, or girdle,contained a small receptacle for ink, which hooked on to the girdle, astilus (or implement of writing), and tablets of no ordinary size. Whatwas rather remarkable, the cincture held no purse, which was the almostindispensable appurtenance of the girdle, even when that purse had themisfortune to be empty!
It was not often that the gay and egotistical Pompeians busiedthemselves with observing the countenances and actions of theirneighbors; but there was that in the lip and eye of this bystander soremarkably bitter and disdainful, as he surveyed the religiousprocession sweeping up the stairs of the temple, that it could not failto arrest the notice of many.
'Who is yon cynic?' asked a merchant of his companion, a jeweller.
'It is Olinthus,' replied the jeweller; 'a reputed Nazarene.'
The merchant shuddered. 'A dread sect!' said he, in a whispered andfearful voice. 'It is said that when they meet at nights they alwayscommence their ceremonies by the murder of a new-born babe; they professa community of goods, too--the wretches! A community of goods! Whatwould become of merchants, or jewellers either, if such notions were infashion?'
'That is very true,' said the jeweller; 'besides, they wear nojewels--they mutter imprecations when they see a serpent; and at Pompeiiall our ornaments are serpentine.'
'Do but observe,' said a third, who was a fabricant of bronze, 'how yonNazarene scowls at the piety of the sacrificial procession. He ismurmuring curses on the temple, be sure. Do you know, Celcinus, thatthis fellow, passing by my shop the other day, and seeing me employed ona statue of Minerva, told me with a frown that, had it been marble, hewould have broken it; but the bronze was too strong for him. "Break agoddess!" said I. "A goddess!" answered the atheist; "it is a demon--anevil spirit!" Then he passed on his way cursing. Are such things to beborne? What marvel that the earth heaved so fearfully last night,anxious to reject the atheist from her bosom?--An atheist, do I say?worse still--a scorner of the Fine Arts! Woe to us fabricants of bronze,if such fellows as this give the law to society!'
'These are the incendiaries that burnt Rome under Nero,' groaned thejeweller.
While such were the friendly remarks provoked by the air and faith ofthe Nazarene, Olinthus himself became sensible of the effect he wasproducing; he turned his eyes round, and observed the intent faces ofthe accumulating throng, whispering as they gazed; and surveying themfor a moment with an expression, first of defiance and afterwards ofcompassion, he gathered his cloak round him and passed on, mutteringaudibly, 'Deluded idolaters!--did not last night's convulsion warn ye?Alas! how will ye meet the last day?'
The crowd that heard these boding words gave them differentinterpretations, according to their different shades of ignorance and offear; all, however, concurred in imagining them to convey some awfulimprecation. They regarded the Christian as the enemy of mankind; theepithets they lavished upon him, of which 'Atheist' was the most favoredand frequent, may serve, perhaps, to warn us, believers of that samecreed now triumphant, how we indulge the persecution of opinion Olinthusthen underwent, and how we apply to those whose notions differ from ourown the terms at that day lavished on the fathers of our faith.
As Olinthus stalked through the crowd, and gained one of the moreprivate places of egress from the forum, he perceived gazing upon him
apale and earnest countenance, which he was not slow to recognize.
Wrapped in a pallium that partially concealed his sacred robes, theyoung Apaecides surveyed the disciple of that new and mysterious creed,to which at one time he had been half a convert.
'Is he, too, an impostor? Does this man, so plain and simple in life,in garb, in mien--does he too, like Arbaces, make austerity the robe ofthe sensualist? Does the veil of Vesta hide the vices of theprostitute?'
Olinthus, accustomed to men of all classes, and combining with theenthusiasm of his faith a profound experience of his kind, guessed,perhaps, by the index of the countenance, something of what passedwithin the breast of the priest. He met the survey of Apaecides with asteady eye, and a brow of serene and open candour.
'Peace be with thee!' said he, saluting Apaecides.
'Peace!' echoed the priest, in so hollow a tone that it went at once tothe heart of the Nazarene.
'In that wish,' continued Olinthus, 'all good things arecombined--without virtue thou canst not have peace. Like the rainbow,Peace rests upon the earth, but its arch is lost in heaven. Heavenbathes it in hues of light--it springs up amidst tears and clouds--it isa reflection of the Eternal Sun--it is an assurance of calm--it is thesign of a great covenant between Man and God. Such peace, O young man!is the smile of the soul; it is an emanation from the distant orb ofimmortal light. PEACE be with you!'
'Alas!' began Apaecides, when he caught the gaze of the curiousloiterers, inquisitive to know what could possibly be the theme ofconversation between a reputed Nazarene and a priest of Isis. Hestopped short, and then added in a low tone: 'We cannot converse here, Iwill follow thee to the banks of the river; there is a walk which atthis time is usually deserted and solitary.'
Olinthus bowed assent. He passed through the streets with a hasty step,but a quick and observant eye. Every now and then he exchanged asignificant glance, a slight sign, with some passenger, whose garbusually betokened the wearer to belong to the humbler classes; forChristianity was in this the type of all other and less mightyrevolutions--the grain of mustard-seed was in the heart of the lowly.Amidst the huts of poverty and labor, the vast stream which afterwardspoured its broad waters beside the cities and palaces of earth took itsneglected source.
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 17