nean reservoir,
occupied an angle of the courtyard. In front of this apartment stands an
altar, on which were found some remnants of sacrifices. Isis, then, was
the only divinity invoked at the moment of the eruption. Her painted
statue held a cross with a handle to it, in one hand, and a cithera in
the other, and her hair fell in long and carefully curled ringlets.

This is all that the temples give us. Artistically speaking, it is but
little. Neither are the other monuments much richer in their information
concerning ancient architecture. They let us know that the material
chiefly employed consisted of lava, of tufa, of brick, excellently
prepared, having more surface and less thickness than ours; of
_peperino_ (Sarno stone), which time renders very hard, sometimes with
travertine and even marble in the ornaments; then there was Roman
mortar, celebrated for its solidity, less perfect at Pompeii, however,
than at Rome; and finally, the stucco surface, covering the entire city
with its smooth and polished crust, like a variegated mantle. But these
edifices tell us nothing in particular; there is neither a style
peculiar to Pompeii discernible in them, nor do we find artists of the
place bearing any noted name, or possessing any singularity of taste and
method. On the other hand, there is an easy eclecticism that adopts all
forms with equal facility and betrays the decadence or the sterility of
the time. I recall the fact that the city was in process of
reconstruction when it was destroyed. Its unskilful repairs disclose a
certain predilection for that cheap kind of elegance which among us, has
taken the place of art. Stucco tricks off and disfigures everything.
Reality is sacrificed to appearance, and genuine elegance to that kind
of showy avarice which assumes a false look of profusion. In many
places, the flutings are economically preserved by means of moulds that
fill them in the lower part of the columns. Painting takes the place of
sculpture at every point where it can supply it. The capitals affect odd
shapes, sometimes successfully, but always at variance with the
simplicity of high art. Add to these objections other faults, glaring at
first glance,--for instance, the adornment of the temple of Mercury,
where the panels terminate alternately in pediments and in arcades; the
facade of the purgatorium in the temple of Isis, where the arcade itself
cutting the cornice, becomes involved hideously with the pediment. I