ica imposed its
architecture and its proportions upon the Catholic Cathedral. In the
semicircle, then, where once the ancient magistracy held its justice
seat, arose the high altar and the consecrated image of the crucified
Saviour.

The Basilica of Pompeii presents to the Forum six pillars, between which
five portals slid along grooves which are still visible. A vestibule, or
sort of chalcidicum extends between these five entrances and five
others, indicated by two columns and four pillars. The vestibule once
crossed, the edifice appears in its truly Roman grandeur; at first
glance the eye reconstructs the broad brick columns, regularly truncated
in shape (they might be considered unfinished), which are still erect on
their bases and which, crowned with Ionic volutes, were to form a
monumental portico along the four sides of this majestic area paved with
marble. Half columns fixed in the lateral walls supported the gallery;
they joined each other in the angles; the middle space must have been
uncovered. Fragments of statues and even of mounted figures proclaim the
magnificence of this monument, at the extremity of which there rose, at
the height of some six feet above the soil, a tribune adorned with half
a dozen Corinthian columns and probably destined for the use of the
duumvirs. The middle columns stood more widely apart in order that the
magistrates might, from their seats, command a view of the entire
Basilica. Under this tribune was concealed a mysterious cellar with
barred windows. Some antiquaries affirm that there was the place where
prisoners were tortured. They forget that in Rome, in the antique time,
cases were adjudged publicly before the free people.

Some of the walls of the Basilica were covered with _graphites_, that is
to say, with inscriptions scratched with the point of a nail or of a
knife by loungers on the way. I do not here copy the thousand and one
insignificant inscriptions which I find in my rambles. They would teach
us nothing but the names of the Pompeian magistrates who had constructed
or reconstructed this or that monument or such-and-such a portion of an
edifice with the public money. But the graphites of the Basilica merit a
moment's attention. Sometimes, these are verses of Ovid or of Virgil or
Propertius (never of Horace, singular to say), and frequently with
curious variations. Thus, for example:

"Quid pote durum _Saxso_ aut quid mollius unda?
Dura tamen molli _Saxsa_ ca