ained
to us. Thus, the curtain fell at the beginning and rose at the end of
the piece.

You are aware that in ancient drama the question of scenery was greatly
simplified by the rule of the unity of place. The stage arrangement, for
instance, represented the palace of a prince. Therefore, there was no
canvas painted at the back of the stage; it was _built_ up. This
decoration, styled the _scena stabilis_, rose as high as the loftiest
tier in the theatre, and was of stone and marble in the Pompeian
edifice. It represented a magnificent wall pierced for three doors; in
the centre was the royal door, where princes entered; on the right, the
entrance of the household and females; at the left, the entrance for
guests and strangers. These were matters to be fixed in the mind of the
spectator. Between these doors were rounded and square niches for
statues. In the side-scenes, was the moveable decoration (_scena
ductilis_), which was slid in front of the back-piece in case of a
change of scene, as, for instance, when playing the _Ajax_ of Sophocles,
where the place of action is transferred from the Greek camp to the
shores of the Hellespont. Then, there were other side-scenes not of much
account, owing to lack of room, and on each wing a turning piece with
three broad flats representing three different subjects. There were
square niches in the walls of the proscenium either for statues or for
policemen to keep an eye on the spectators. Such, stated in a few lines
and in libretto style, was the stage in ancient times.

[Illustration: The Smaller Theatre at Pompeii.]

I confess that I have a preference for the smaller theatre which has
been called the Odeon. Is that because, possibly, tragedies were never
played there? Is it because this establishment seems more complete and
in better preservation, thanks to the intelligent replacements of La
Vega, the architect? It was covered, as two inscriptions found there
explicitly declare, with a wooden roof, probably, the walls not being
strong enough to sustain an arch. It was reached through a passage all
bordered with inscriptions, traced on the walls by the populace waiting
to secure admission as they passed slowly in, one after the other. A
lengthy file of gladiators had carved their names also upon the walls,
along with an enumeration of their victories; barbarian slaves, and some
freedmen, likewise, had left their marks. These probably constituted the
audience that occupied the