56
CLASSICAL TOUR
Ch. IL
when occupying' the very spot and standing· in
the very point of view for which they were ori-
ginally destined.
But independent even of this advantage, and
stripped as it is of almost all its moveable orna-
ments, Pompeii possesses a secret power that
captivates, I had almost said, melts the soul. In
other times and in other places, one single edi-
fice, a temple, a theatre, a tomb, that had
escaped the wreck of ages, would have enchant-
ed us; nay, an arch, the remnant of a wall, even
one solitary column was beheld with veneration ;
but to discover a single ancient house, the abode
of a Roman in his privacy, the scene of his do-
mestic hours, was an object of fond, but hopeless
longing. Here, not a temple, nor a theatre, nor
a column, nor a house, but a whole city rises
before us, untouched, unaltered, the very same
as it was eighteen hundred years ago, when in-
habited by Romans. We range through the
same streets, tread the very same pavement, be-
hold the same walls, enter the same doors, and
repose in the same apartments. We are sur-
rounded by the same objects, and out of the
same windows we contemplate the same scenery.
Whil e you are wandering through the aban-
doned rooms you may, without any great effort
of imagination, expect to meet some of the for-
1
CLASSICAL TOUR
Ch. IL
when occupying' the very spot and standing· in
the very point of view for which they were ori-
ginally destined.
But independent even of this advantage, and
stripped as it is of almost all its moveable orna-
ments, Pompeii possesses a secret power that
captivates, I had almost said, melts the soul. In
other times and in other places, one single edi-
fice, a temple, a theatre, a tomb, that had
escaped the wreck of ages, would have enchant-
ed us; nay, an arch, the remnant of a wall, even
one solitary column was beheld with veneration ;
but to discover a single ancient house, the abode
of a Roman in his privacy, the scene of his do-
mestic hours, was an object of fond, but hopeless
longing. Here, not a temple, nor a theatre, nor
a column, nor a house, but a whole city rises
before us, untouched, unaltered, the very same
as it was eighteen hundred years ago, when in-
habited by Romans. We range through the
same streets, tread the very same pavement, be-
hold the same walls, enter the same doors, and
repose in the same apartments. We are sur-
rounded by the same objects, and out of the
same windows we contemplate the same scenery.
Whil e you are wandering through the aban-
doned rooms you may, without any great effort
of imagination, expect to meet some of the for-
1