fleet of P. Cornelius. This port,
mentioned by certain authors, has led many to believe that the sea
washed the walls of Pompeii, and some guides have even thought they
could discover the rings that once held the cables of the galleys.
Unfortunately for this idea, at the place which the imagination of some
of our contemporaries covered with salt water, there were one day
discovered the vestiges of old structures, and it is now conceded that
Pompeii, like many other seaside places, had its harbor at a distance.
Our little city made no great noise in history. Tacitus and Seneca speak
of it as celebrated, but the Italians of all periods have been fond of
superlatives. You will find some very old buildings in it, proclaiming
an ancient origin, and Oscan inscriptions recalling the antique language
of the country. When the Samnites invaded the whole of Campania, as
though to deliver it over more easily to Rome, they probably occupied
Pompeii, which figured in the second Samnite war, B.C. 310, and
which, revolting along with the entire valley of the Sarno from Nocera
to Stabiæ, repulsed an incursion of the Romans and drove them back to
their vessels. The third Samnite war was, as is well known, a bloody
vengeance for this, and Pompeii became Roman. Although the yoke of
the conquerors was not very heavy--the municipii, retaining their
Senate, their magistrates, their _comitiæ_ or councils, and paying a
tribute of men only in case of war--the Samnite populations, clinging
frantically to the idea of a separate and independent existence, rose
twice again in revolt; once just after the battle of Cannæ, when they
threw themselves into the arms of Hannibal, and then against Sylla, one
hundred and twenty-four years later--facts that prove the tenacity of
their resistance. On both occasions Pompeii was retaken, and the
second time partly dismantled and occupied by a detachment of
soldiers, who did not long remain there. And thus we have the whole
history of this little city. The Romans were fond of living there, and
Cicero had a residence in the place, to which he frequently refers in his
letters. Augustus sent thither a colony which founded the suburb of
Augustus Felix, administered by a mayor. The Emperor Claudius also
had a villa at Pompeii, and there lost one of his children, who perished
by a singular mishap. The imperial lad was amusing himself, as the
Neapolitan boys do to this day, by throwing pears up into the air and
catching them in his mouth as they fell. One of the fruits choked him
by descending too far into his throat. But the Neapolitan youngsters
perform the feat with figs, which render it infinitely less dangerous.
We are, then, going to visit a small city subordinate to Rome, much less
than Marseilles is to Paris, and a little more so than Geneva is to Berne.
Pompeii had almost nothing to do with the Senate or the Emperor. The
old tongue--the Oscan--had ceased to be official, and the authorities
issued their orders in Latin. The residents of the place were Roman
citizens, Rome being recognized as the capital and fatherland. The local
legislation was made secondary to Roman legislation. But, excepting
these reservations, Pompeii formed a little world, apart, independent,
and complete in itself. She had a miniature Senate, composed of
decurions; an aristocracy in epitome, represented by the Augustales,
answering to knights; and then came her plebs or common people. She
chose her own pontiffs, convoked the comitiæ, promulged municipal
laws, regulated military levies, collected taxes; in fine selected her own
immediate rulers--her consuls (the duumvirs dispensing justice), her
ediles, her quæstors, etc. Hence, it is not a provincial city that we are to
survey, but a petty State which had preserved its autonomy within the
unity of the Empire, and was, as has been cleverly said, a miniature of
Rome.
Another circumstance imparts a peculiar interest to Pompeii. That city,
which seemed to have no good luck, had been violently shaken by
earthquake in the year B.C. 63. Several temples had toppled down
along with the colonnade of the Forum, the great Basilica, and the
theatres, without counting the tombs and houses. Nearly every family
fled from the place, taking with them their furniture and their statuary;
and the Senate hesitated a long time before they allowed the city to be
rebuilt and the deserted district to be re-peopled. The Pompeians at last
returned; but the decurions wished to make the restoration of the place
a complete rejuvenation. The columns of the Forum speedily
reappeared, but with capitals in the fashion of the day; the
Corinthian-Roman order, adopted almost everywhere, changed the style
of the monuments; the old shafts covered with stucco were patched up
for the new topwork they were to receive,
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