It was early noon, and the forum was crowded alike with the busy and the idle.  As at Paris at this day, so at that time in the cities of Italy, men lived almost wholly out of doors:  the public buildings, the forum, the porticoes, the baths, the temples themselves, might be considered their real homes; it was no wonder that they decorated so gorgeously these favorite places of resort—­they felt for them a sort of domestic affection as well as a public pride.  And animated was, indeed, the aspect of the forum of Pompeii at that time!  Along its broad pavement, composed of large flags of marble, were assembled various groups, conversing in that energetic fashion which appropriates a gesture to every word, and which is still the characteristic of the people of the south.  Here, in seven stalls on one side the colonnade, sat the money-changers, with their glittering heaps before them, and merchants and seamen in various costumes crowding round their stalls.  On one side, several men in long togas were seen bustling rapidly up to a stately edifice, where the magistrates administered justice—­these were the lawyers, active, chattering, joking, and punning, as you may find them at this day in Westminster.  In the centre of the space, pedestals supported various statues, of which the most remarkable was the stately form of Cicero.  Around the court ran a regular and symmetrical colonnade of Doric architecture; and there several, whose business drew them early to the place, were taking the slight morning repast which made an Italian breakfast, talking vehemently on the earthquake of the preceding night as they dipped pieces of bread in their cups of diluted wine.  In the open space, too, you might perceive various petty traders exercising the arts of their calling.  Here one man was holding out ribands to a fair dame from the country; another man was vaunting to a stout farmer the excellence of his shoes; a third, a kind of stall-restaurateur, still so common in the Italian cities, was supplying many a hungry mouth with hot messes from his small and itinerant stove, while—­contrast strongly typical of the mingled bustle and intellect of the time—­close by, a schoolmaster was expounding to his puzzled pupils the elements of the Latin grammar.’  A gallery above the portico, which was ascended by small wooden staircases, had also its throng; though, as here the immediate business of the place was mainly carried on, its groups wore a more quiet and serious air.

Every now and then the crowd below respectfully gave way as some senator swept along to the Temple of Jupiter (which filled up one side of the forum, and was the senators’ hall of meeting), nodding with ostentatious condescension to such of his friends or clients as he distinguished amongst the throng.  Mingling amidst the gay dresses of the better orders you saw the hardy forms of the neighboring farmers, as they made their way to the public granaries.  Hard by the temple you caught a view of the triumphal arch,