PAESTUM AND POMPEII
"There is said to be one vehicle in Paestum," remarked Uncle Jim, as
they reached the little station, "and as we are not the only passengers
on this train we might as well make up our minds in advance whether we
shall fight for it or walk."
"Walk," was the unanimous response, and after checking their luggage
they started up a long, dusty road. Some distance from the station an
arch spanned the roadway. "It must have been part of an old town wall,"
said Marion, and at the same moment a tall, short-skirted woman came
toward them, carrying a large stone water jar on her head. In an instant
Irma had focussed her camera, aiming it just as the woman was in the
center of the arch.
"She doesn't seem to object," murmured Aunt Caroline. The woman was now
close to them, and as she passed them she did not even deign to smile or
to look at them directly.
"The Temples! The Temples!" A few minutes later Irma gave an exclamation
of delight.
"How beautiful--with the view of the sea beyond," added Aunt Caroline.
Then all stood still. Before them, with a background of blue sea and
bluer sky, rose the two great temples, the largest of the three edifices
that are now practically the sole remains of a once great
city--Poseidonia--founded six hundred years before Christ, by colonists
from Sybaris in Greece.
"Outside of Athens, there are no finer temples left standing in the
world!" said Uncle Jim.
"Until I read it in my guidebook to-day, I thought one had to go to
Greece to see Greek temples," added Irma.
"Oh, there are several in Sicily," rejoined Marion, in what Irma to
herself called his "high and mighty tone," a tone that always made her
feel that he despised her lack of knowledge.
"Yes," said Aunt Caroline, "but for those of us who are not going now
to Greece or Sicily, these are worth printing on our memories. I dare
say, Marion, with your exactness, you would like to walk around them and
measure them to see whether they are what they are represented to be.
Irma and I will content ourselves with general impressions."
"I might verify the fact that the Temple of Neptune is one hundred and
ninety-six feet long and seventy-nine feet wide, but it would be harder
for me to prove without a ladder that each of the thirty-six columns is
twenty-eight feet high," responded Marion good naturedly.
"No, no," cried Aunt Caroline, "no such uninteresting facts! All I wish
to remember is the soft, mellow brown of the whole structure and its
noble proportions."
Then, looking to the slightly smaller structure at the left, she added,
"The Basilica is less complete and less imposing. It has something of
the attractiveness of a younger sister."
"I don't like its color as well, but I suppose both are faded."
"Undoubtedly, though originally they were both covered with stucco to
imitate marble; the pediment was adorned with sculptures, and the temple
held other works of art."
They were now crossing the rough field between them and the Temple of
Neptune. Some of those who had come with them in the train were
wandering about the interior--if a roofless space without walls may be
called an interior--and a larger group had gone with the uniformed guide
toward the more distant Temple of Ceres.
"That pinkish flower over there must be asphodel," said Uncle Jim. "Now
don't rush to gather it, Irma. It would be far wiser to sit here and
test the luncheon the padrone provided for us. Here is a good place, and
Marion will open the box."
As Uncle Jim made room at the base of a great Doric column, Irma gave a
little scream.
"Oh, it's only a little lizard--no, two little lizards, and you can't
blame them for showing alarm at a party of American invaders. Why, even
Marion doesn't object to them."
A deep flush rose on Marion's cheek. Irma was looking at him as Uncle
Jim spoke, and saw that he pressed his lips tightly, as if to suppress
an angry reply.
"Before he opens the box," continued Uncle Jim, whose spirits were
rising, "I can tell exactly what that pasteboard receptacle
contains,--two hard-boiled eggs for each of us, a fine assortment of
chicken legs and wings, some butter, some salt, several unbuttered rolls
almost too hard to eat, and an orange apiece."
"You must have prepared the menu yourself," said Irma, laughing; "for
things are absolutely what you said, except," and she opened a little
package, "here is a piece of cheese."
"Oh, yes, I forgot the cheese. But I have opened too many Italian
luncheon boxes not to know what to expect, and in ten years they haven't
changed."
"_Muore di fame, muore di fame_," whined a small voice in their ears.
Looking about, Irma saw a girl of twelve or fourteen, with a shawl over
her head, carrying her hand to her mouth in the well-known gesture of
hunger.
"_Muore di fame_ (I am dying of hunger)," she repeated, standing in
front of the four picnickers, while at the same time she turned her head
from side to side as if fearing some one's approach.
"It is the _custode_," exclaimed Uncle Jim; "begging here on Government
property is probably against the rules, and she fears he will return
before we have given her all our luncheon."
"No, no," he cried, but the girl reached out her hand as if to snatch.
"Oh, give her something," cried Marion, "or at least I will; the poor
thing may be starving."
"_Muore di fame, muore di fame_," repeated the girl, catching the
sympathetic note in his voice. Then, just as he had given her a roll and
a chicken leg she took to her heels, disappearing over a hedge of bushes
between the temple enclosure and a partly ploughed field that stretched
between them and the sea.
A moment later the _custode_ came around the corner of the temple, thus
explaining the girl's sudden flight. At the same time two dogs appeared,
sniffing for their share of the luncheon. More polite than the girl,
however, when told to go away, they went off some distance, sitting on
their haunches and still eyeing the party hungrily.
It was now Irma's turn to be sympathetic.
"That little one makes me think of Nap, and I just can't help giving
him a wing with something on it."
"Just wait until we have finished."
Obedient to this suggestion, Irma waited, and at last there was a good
heap of bones as well as some scraps of bread on which the two little
creatures fell greedily.
Later, making her way with difficulty over the brambles, Irma reached
the grass beyond the strip of ploughed land. She carried a little
package containing rolls, an orange or two, and a little chicken. She
had gone ahead of the others to get a photograph from this point of
view. She had already taken nearer views of portions of the columns and
base with Aunt Caroline posed for comparative size, looking a veritable
pigmy.
The temples, with the background of hills, were less imposing from the
other side. The eye could not help seeing not only the temple, but a lot
of ugly little houses in the far background near the station.
"_Muore di fame, muore di fame_," cried two voices, one after the
other. The girl with the shawl had crept up behind Irma, and a larger
girl stood beside her. The first girl was a pitiable object, yet Irma
knew that she had lately had something to keep her from starvation. The
other was fairly well dressed, and for her Irma felt no sympathy. In
fact the two had a manner so impertinent that she took no notice of the
oft-repeated monotonous "_Muore di fame_."
But she cast anxious glances toward the temples. Why did her uncle and
aunt delay coming! Then she caught a glimpse of them just entering the
Basilica. One of her tormentors now jerked her skirt, the other shook
her hand in her face.
Irma waved them back, crying, "_Andate, andate_" (go away, go away), in
Aunt Caroline's most effective tone.
The girls grew bolder and dashed at Irma as if to take both her camera
and her package. Yet Irma, though frightened, was determined not to
surrender either.
At last, when she attempted to call for help, she could not make a
sound loud enough to be heard by her uncle or aunt. Of course she had
not stood still all this time, but with one girl clutching her dress she
could not move fast, especially as she was now in the ploughed ground,
into which her feet sank deeper with every step. There was no occasion
to fear, as the girls could accomplish no very desperate deed before
help came, but Irma's spirit was up, and her nerves irritated by the
constant "_Muore di fame_." So she held the package of food more closely
than the camera, and the older girl, watching her chance, rushed off
with it, while the other, making a dash at Irma's head, tore off her
hat.
[Illustration: "WITH ONE GIRL CLUTCHING HER DRESS, SHE COULD NOT MOVE
FAST." (_Page 132._)]
"Help, help," cried Irma, finding her voice as the amateur brigands ran
toward the road. Then, almost at the same moment, something flew past
her so quickly that she could hardly tell what it was. A minute later he
had reached the two girls, who were unaware of the avenger's presence
until too late to escape. When the flying figure stood still Irma
recognized Marion, and a moment later he was back at her side, holding
triumphantly aloft the hat and the camera.
"Did they hurt you?"
"Is it ruined?" The two young people spoke in one breath.
"No, of course they didn't hurt me," responded Marion, with some
indignation, while Irma wondered why a little stream of blood trickled
down his cheek.
"No," said Irma, in the same tone, "of course my hat isn't ruined," and
she smoothed out the crushed ribbon bows, and plucked off one of the
wings that had been broken in the tussle.
Then Marion wiping his face discovered a scratch. "I thought one of
those girls had mighty sharp claws," he said, and Irma, opening her bag,
presented him with a strip of thin court-plaster from the case John Wall
had given her as a parting present, and then they retraced their steps
toward the Basilica, where their elders were awaiting them.
"You haven't explored the temples," said Aunt Caroline. "You can get a
very good idea of the interior by examining the stones that show the
position of the altar, and----"
"Oh, I don't care about temples now, not until I have studied more. I
just like to look about and wonder what the town was like with all its
people moving here, when these fields were streets, or----"
"There, there," interposed Aunt Caroline. "When I look about, I can only
think that in a solitary place like this I should hate to be attacked by
brigands. At the present moment we are monarchs of all we survey. Even
the _custode_ is lost to sight, though perhaps he'd appear if we were in
real danger."
"I didn't find him of much use," she began, but at a warning glance
from Marion, she was silent.
"I wish we had time to go down by the sea, where the Greeks originally
landed. As it's much lower land, the temples must show up wonderfully
well."
"You must give up the seashore this time. We can barely catch the train,
after visiting the Temple of Ceres. Come, children."
But Irma and Marion remained seated.
"Oh, Aunt Caroline, we'd rather wait a while; we'll go back part way by
the town wall, and meet you under the Siren's Arch, that would be much
more fun. You can dig for the Roman remains that they say lie hidden in
that field over there. You know this is one of the towns that remained
faithful to Rome in Hannibal's time. Ugh," concluded Marion suddenly,
wincing, as if in pain.
"Oh, it's nothing," he replied to Irma's inquiries. "Perhaps I ran too
hard in the field over there. You were a brick not to tell Aunt Caroline
about it; she would have come down on me mighty hard."
Though Irma did not understand Marion's meaning, she thanked him for
recovering her camera.
"It was nothing at all; the little wretches were probably more than
half in fun and wouldn't have dared keep it long, with the _custode_
likely to pounce on them, for I suppose one of them, at least, lives in
that miserable little house beyond the fence. But it's strange that
Uncle Jim didn't ask about the court-plaster on my face. His eyes are
generally so sharp. But see what I've found for you," he concluded,
picking up something near the base of the great, weather-beaten column
beside which they sat.
Irma gave an exclamation of delight as he put in her hand a small piece
of the travertine that in some way had been broken off from the column,
inside which was a tiny shell,--a shell now exposed to the light for the
first time in the more than two thousand years since the temples were
built. When she had tied this up in a corner of her handkerchief, and
had pressed two of the pink blossoms that Uncle Jim called "asphodel"
between the leaves of her notebook, Irma felt that she indeed had begun
to collect classical trophies.
From the old town wall, several sections of which are still in fair
condition, Marion and Irma took their last view of Paestum and the
surrounding plain. "I suppose the old Poseidonians used to go up in that
corner tower and watch for their enemies," said Marion.
"Well, Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jim are not enemies, yet we can watch for
them. Ah, there we are! And if we return to the road now we can reach
the station ten minutes ahead of them and have time to select post cards
before train time."
"It will be dusk," said Aunt Caroline, as they took their places in the
crowded train, "before we reach Pompeii. I am sorry we have to give up
the beautiful Amalfi drive on the high, rocky road above the sea. But
that rainy day at Cava was a lost day, and the telegram your uncle
received as we left Naples requires him to hurry to Rome to keep a
business engagement. To-morrow, Pompeii, and the morning after we leave
Naples for Rome."
Of the Amalfi drive Irma caught a glimpse from a curve in the road
above picturesque Salerno, and even away from the sea, looking toward
the mountains they had glimpses of snow-clad peaks in strange contrast
with the summer-like aspect of the country nearer them. But the people
she saw at the stations along the way interested Irma almost more than
the scenery. At Salerno station, especially, there were peasants of a
very strange type. One man with a beard of long growth, in coat and
trousers of sacking, carried a long axe, as if bound for the woods.
Another brigandish creature with khaki trousers and a slouched hat wore
a long black cloak, an end of which was thrown over his shoulders. Two
girls setting out on a journey wept bitterly, as an old gray-headed
woman kissed them good-by. One carried her belongings in two fairly
large baskets, and the other had a white sacking bag for hers, with a
few extra things tied up in a black handkerchief. The girls wore no
hats, but like all the other women at the station they had their hair
elaborately bedecked with combs, front, back, and side combs, until Irma
wondered how their heads could bear the weight. _Carbonieri_, with their
picturesque cocked hats, strutted across the platform. A railroad
official with red pipings on his hat and gilt buttons on his coat also
added to the gaiety of the scene.
"What are we waiting for?" at last Marion cried impatiently.
"The horn man doesn't dare blow until every one in Salerno visits this
train."
At this moment the little man with brass buttons on his coat blew his
small brass trumpet, and the train set off for Pompeii, still a couple
of hours away.
From Pompeii Irma wrote her first long letter to Gertrude, long in
comparison with the one sent from the ship. But she had plenty of time
that evening after dinner, and though tired after her hours of strolling
in the ruined city, she felt in the mood for writing. Moreover, Gertrude
had especially asked her to describe Pompeii, and having promised, Irma
knew that the most sensible thing was to make good her promise promptly.
"My dear Gertrude," she began. "After all I am not to see Herculaneum,
although you hoped I would. But a man we met to-day said we need not be
sorry we have no time for Herculaneum. It gave him a kind of smothered
feeling, and he did not stay there long. They have not yet dug out
enough to make it really interesting, and all the fine statues have been
taken to the Naples Museum, so there isn't so much to see yet, and it is
all underground.
"But Pompeii is different. In one way it is cheerful, though at times I
had an awfully melancholy feeling when I looked about at those roofless
buildings and remembered how they had been destroyed, with thousands of
people, all in an instant. Our hotel is close to the entrance, in fact
my bedroom window looks out on the gate, and when I went to bed it
seemed uncanny to be sleeping near so gruesome a place. But in the
morning, when I saw two or three carriages standing there and loafers
lounging about and tourists going in and out of the little curiosity
shop next door, I forgot everything, except that I was a sightseer, too.
"There is nothing shut up about Pompeii, and I am glad I left the Museum
until the last, for that took away some of my cheerful feeling.
"I was surprised when we first began to move about, to see such enormous
paving-stones in their narrow streets, and you can hardly believe that
the chariot wheels could wear such deep ruts. The horses' feet must
sometimes have slipped down between the stones.
"The houses have no roofs, and from the street they are so small that I
could think of nothing but playhouses. Some of them open out when you go
inside and have more than one court. They all have at least one court,
with rooms opening off it, and some have little fountains in the center,
and sometimes the white marble basins are beautifully carved and there
is grass growing around the margin, and even bright plants and vines are
trained here and there, just as in the time of the live Pompeians.
"As you walk about you can tell which room was a kitchen and which a
bathroom, for they used lead pipes just like ours. In the smaller houses
the family used to spend most of their time in the atrium. The sleeping
rooms were generally tiny, and the poor slaves were put in little
cubby-holes upstairs.
"The frescoes on some walls are bright, but I think our taste has
changed, for Marion and I did not admire them so very much. In one
lovely house I saw where the Young Narcissus had been found. The
original is in the Naples Museum, but a copy is here in its old place.
Another interesting house is where they found the graceful statue of a
dancing faun. I saw the house that Bulwer calls the house of Glaucus, in
the 'Last Days of Pompeii,' and there in front of it is the inscription
in mosaics, _Cave canem_, which I needn't translate for you. They are
always uncovering new houses, and one of the newest, the 'House of the
Vetii,' is the most beautiful, partly because they have left most of the
things in the places where they found them, instead of sending them off
to museums. The frescoes here are the most fascinating little Cupids
playing games and amusing themselves. Of course one carries away only a
general impression of these houses. There are traces of bright color
everywhere inside, chiefly red and yellow. The bases of many of the
columns in the houses were one of these colors. Some streets were full
of shops--_tabernae_. Would you have known what that meant? You can see
the marble-covered counters, and the earthen jars for oil and wine and
other things. One market has paintings on the walls, showing that
various kinds of provisions were sold there, and in a large pit in the
center quantities of fish scales were found. Probably that was where the
fish were kept. Instead of quart measures like ours, I saw a set of
marble basins side by side, with holes in the bottom to let the liquid
run out into the buyer's jars. Most of the shops are labelled, so you
can tell what was sold there. On some walls are notices scratched, that
take the place of our posters, though Uncle Jim says they have more to
do with politics than with buying and selling.
"The great baths astonished me, for they had hot and cold water and
different rooms for people to pass through, like a Turkish bath. You
can't say it's a good thing that Pompeii was destroyed, but as long as
it _had_ to be, it's fine that they have excavated it. To see for
yourself how these people lived is better than a hundred lessons in
history. Of course it gives you an awful feeling when you stand by the
villa of Diomedes and hear that the bodies of eighteen women and
children were found there. They had fled to the cellar and had food
enough with them to last some time, but the ashes sifted in and they
were found with wraps over their heads and hands out trying to shield
themselves.
"Diomedes, with keys in his hand, was at the door, and a slave carrying
money and valuables. I haven't time to tell you about the Forum and the
Basilica and the theatre. Just imagine the fifty or sixty gladiators,
whose bodies were found in the gladiators' barracks! Most of them wore
heavy manacles, and what they must have suffered when they found they
could not escape!
"When I walked up the street of Tombs, where you get the best view of
Vesuvius, I could not help thinking that in spite of its calm appearance
the mountain is a very dangerous neighbor, and I am rather glad that we
have decided not to make the ascent.
"Afterwards when I stood on a small hill, it was hard to believe that
under the green slopes in front of us there lay perhaps as large a part
of Pompeii as they have yet uncovered. Who knows what wonderful things
may yet be found, though it may take more than fifty years to finish the
work? It was up here that I dared pick a few tiny buttercups, that I
send you as a souvenir of Pompeii.
[Illustration: POMPEII.]
"The town has a bricky look as you see it from the hill, that's one
reason, I suppose, why it seems so modern. After all, the greater part
of the inhabitants of Pompeii escaped alive. They fled at the first
warning. When the eruption stopped for a while, many went back for their
valuables, or because they thought it was all over, and there were some
old and sick who, perhaps, couldn't be moved at first. All these two
thousand were caught in the second fearful eruption. Casts of some of
the bodies are in the little museum on the grounds, but I hardly looked
at them, and, in fact, we spent very little time there because we had
seen the same kind of things at Naples. This is a fearfully long letter,
but I hope I shall find a longer one from you at Rome, where we go from
Naples by the morning express to-morrow."