The Last Days of Pompeii
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I THE GETTY RESEARCH INSTITUTE LIBRARY Halsted VanderPoel Campanian Collection DAYS OF UNIFORM. RlENZI. EUGENE ARAM. ERNEST MALTSAVERS. ARBACES HEARS YOUNG GLAUCUS SINGING TO IONE. P. 52. OF POMPEII. BY EDWARD BULWER, LORD LYTTON, AUTHOR OF "EUGENE ARAM," "ERNEST MALTRAVERS, "RIENZI,"&C. " Such it Vesuvius ! and these things take place in it every year. Bet all eruptions which have happened since would be trifling, even if all summed into one, compared to what occurred at the period we refer to. " Day was turned into night, and light into darkness an inexpressible quantity of dust and ashes was poured out, deluging land, sea, and air, and burying two entire cities, Herculaneum and Pompeii, while the people were sitting in the theatre !" DION CASSIUS, lib. Ixvi. REPRINTED FBOM THE ORIGINAL KDITIOS. LONDON: WILLIAM NICHOLSON AND SONS. 2O, WARWICK SQUARE, PATERNOSTER ROW, AND ALBION WORKS, WAKEFIELD. THE GETTY RESEARCH INSTITUTE LIBRARY disinterred of an ancient f"\N visiting those remains City, which, \J more perhaps than either the delicious breeze or the cloud- less sun, the violet valleys and orange-groves of the South, attract still fresh and the the traveller to Naples ; on viewing, vivid, houses, the streets, the temples, the theatres of a place existing in the haughtiest age of the Roman empire it was not unnatural, perhaps, that a writer who had before laboured, however un- worthily, in the art to revive and create, should feel a keen desire to people once more those deserted streets, to repair those grace- ful ruins, to reanimate the bones which were yet spared to his to traverse the of and to wake survey ; gulf eighteen centuries, to a second existence the City of the Dead ! Pompeii ! And the reader will easily imagine how sensibly this desire grew upon one who felt he could perform his undertaking, with Pompeii itself at the distance of a few miles the sea that once bore her commerce, and received her fugitives, at his feet and the fatal mountain of Vesuvius, still breathing forth smoke and fire, constantly before his eyes ! I was aware, however, from the first of the great difficulties with which I had to contend. To paint the manners and exhibit life the of a the of the middle ages, required hand master genius ; yet, perhaps, the task is slight and easy in comparison with that which aspires to portray a far earlier and more unfamiliar period. With the men and customs of the feudal time we have a natural of alliance those men were our own ances- sympathy and bond ; tors from those customs we received our own the creed of our chivalric fathers is still ours their tombs yet consecrate our churches the ruins of their castles yet frown over our valleys. We trace in their struggles for liberty and for justice our present institutions ; and in the elements of their social state we behold the origin of our own. to Yet the task, though arduous, seemed me worth attempting ; and in the time and the scene I have chosen, much may be found to arouse the curiosity of the reader, and enlist his interest. It was the first century of our religion it was the most civilised period of Rome; the conduct of the story lies amidst places relics trace the is the most whose we yet ; catastrophe among awful which the tragedies of ancient history record. From the ample materials before me, my endeavour has been to select those which would be most attractive to a modern least unfamiliar to reader ; the customs and superstitions him the shadows that, when reanimated, would present to him such images as, while they represented the past, might be least unin- teresting to the speculations of the present. The date of my story is that of the short reign of Titus, when Rome was at its 6 PREFACE. greatest power. It is, therefore, a most inviting temptation to the author to conduct the characters of his tale, during the pro- gress of its incidents, from Pompeii to Rome. What could afford such materials for description, or such field for the vanity of dis- play, as that gorgeous city of the world, whose grandeur could lend so bright an inspiration to fancy so favourable and so solemn a dignity to research? But, in choosing for my subject my catastrophe, the Destruction of Pompeii, it required but little insight into the higher principles of art to perceive that to Pom- peii the story should be rigidly confined. The city, whose fate supplied me with so superb and awful a catastrophe, supplied easily, from the first survey of its remains, the scene the half the characters most suited to the subject and ; Grecian colony of Hercules, mingling with the manners of Italy so much of the costumes of Hellas, suggested of itself the character of Glaucus and lone. The worship of Isis, its exis- tent fane, with its false oracles unveiled the trade of Pompeii with Alexandria the associations of the Saraus with the Nile called forth the Egyptian Arbaces, the base Calenus, and the fervent Apaecides. The early struggles of Christianity with the creation of Olinthus heathen superstition, suggested the ; and the burnt fields of Campania, long celebrated for the spells of the sorceress, naturally produced the Saga of Vesuvius. For the existence of the Blind Girl, I am indebted to a casual conversa- tion with a gentleman at Naples. Speaking of the utter darkness which accompanied the first recorded eruption of Vesuvius, and the additional obstacle it presented to the escape of the in- habitants, he observed that the blind would be the most favoured, and find the easiest deliverance. This remark originated the creation of Nydia. The characters, therefore, are the natural offspring of the scene and time. As the in of an unfamiliar and distant greatest difficulty treating " " period is to make the characters introduced live and move be- fore the eye of the reader, so such should doubtless be the first object of a work of the present description. Enough if this book, whatever its imperfections, should be found a portrait unskilful, perhaps, in colouring, faulty in drawing, but not altogether an unfaithful likeness of the features and the costume of the age which I have attempted to paint. May it be (what is far more important) a just representation of the human passion and the human heart, whose elements in all ages are the same ! One word more. If I have succeeded in giving some interest and vitality to a description of classic manners and to a tale of a classic age, I have succeeded where all hitherto have failed. THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. BOOK THE FIRST. CHAPTER I. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF POMPEII. Diomed, well met ! Do you sup with Glaucus to-night ?" HO,said a young man of small stature, who wore his tunic in those loose and effeminate folds which proved him to be a gentle- man and a coxcomb. "Alas, no! dear Clodius ; he has not invited me," replied ' ' Diomed, a man of a portly frame and of middle age. By Pol- lux, a scurvy Trick! for they say his suppers are the best in Pompeii." " Pretty well though there is never enough of wine for me. It is not the old Greek blood that flows in his veins, for he pre- tends that wine makes him dull the next morning." " There be another reason for that thrift," said Diomed, may " raising his brows. With all his conceit and extravagance he is not so rich, I fancy, as he affects to be, and perhaps loves to save his better than his wit." "amphorae An additional reason for supping with him while the sesterces last. Next Diomed, we must find another Glaucus." " year, He is fond of the dice, too, I hear." " is fond of and while he likes the He every pleasure ; pleasure of giving suppers, we are all fond of him." ' ' Ha, ha, Clodius, that is well said ! Have you ever seen my wine-cellars, " by-the-by?" I think not, Diomed." " my good I Well, you must sup with me some evening ; have tolerable muroense (lampreys) in my reservoir, and I will ask Pansa the sedile to meet " you." Oh, no state with me! Persicos odi apparatus, I am easily contented. the I for the baths Well, day wanes ; am and you?"" To the quasstor business of state afterwards to the temple oflsis. Vale I" "An ostentatious, ill-bred fellow," muttered Clodius bustling, " to himself, as he sauntered slowly away. He thinks with his feasts and his wine-cellars to make us forget that he is the son of a freedman and so we when we do him the honour of win- ; will, ning his money : these rich plebeians are a harvest for us spend- thrift nobles," 8 THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. Thus soliloquising, Clodius arrived in the Via Domitiana, which was crowded with passengers and chariots, and exhibited all that gay and animated exuberance of life and motion which we find at this day in the streets of Naples. The bells of the cars, as they rapidly glided by each other, jingled merrily on the ear, and Clodius with smiles or nods claimed familiar acquaintance with whatever equipage was most elegant or fantastic in fact, no young man was better known about Pompeii. ' ' What, Clodius ! and how have you slept on your good for- tune?" cried, in a pleasant and musical voice, a young man in a chariot of the most fastidious and graceful fashion. Upon its surface of bronze were elaborately wrought, in the still exquisite workmanship of Greece, reliefs of the Olympian games.