San Andreas independent., 1858-05-01

OuCc SpOticoS iudIUic, Win snow
white marks of shot and shell, and with its
soaring pillars imbedded in the dark blue
ether, land here the sky seems blue only be-
cause they need such background you
doubt for moment whether the melancholy
of its ruin, or the perfect and majestic lowell
ness which shines through that ruin, is most
powerful
did not stop to solve this doubt Once
having looked upon the Parthenon, it was i'm
possible to look otherwhere, and drew nearer
and nearer finding narrow lane through the
chaos of fragments piled almost as high as my
head, until stood below the western 'front.'
looked up at the Doric shafts, colossal as be-
htted the shrine of a goddess, yet tender and
graceful as fower-stems, upholding without
effort the massive entablature and the shat
tered pediment, in one corner of which two
'torses alone remain of all the children of
Phidias, and-to my confusion must confess
lt-all my fine resolves were forgotten. was
seized with overpowering mixture Of that
purest and loftiest admiration which is almost
the same thing as love, and of unmitigated
grief and Indignation. Well-consider me a
fool if you like-but, had been alone, should
have cast myself prone upon the marble pave
ment, and exhausted in some hysterical way
the violence of this unexpected passion. As
1T was, remained grimly silent, not ventur-
ing to speak, except when Francois pointing
to the despoiled pediment, said "All the 9TH
er statues were carried away by Lord Elgin. ~
"D-n Lord Elgin exclaimed and do
not repent me of the profanity.
We ascended the steps to the floor of the
temple, walked over its barren pavement, past
the spot where stood the statue of ivory and
gold, past the traces or hideous Byzantine fres-
Goes, to the centre, where the walls and colon
nadeS on either hand are leveled to the very
floor, and sat down in the marble chairs of the
ancient priests, to contemplate the wreck in
silence. Oh unutterable sorrox y for all the
ages to come can never restore the glory which
has here been destroyed. Yc may smile, We
yet mistaken columns, secure in your immor-
tality of beauty, but We cannot take away the
weight of that reproach uttered by your fallen
brethren. Man built them, man ruined them
but he can no more recreate them than he can
rebeget the child he has lost. In their perfect
symmetry was solved the enigma of that har-
mony which is the very being of God and the
operation of his laws. These blocks of sunny
marble were piled upon each ether to the cho-
rus of the same song which the seasons sing
in their ordered round, and the planets in
their balanced orbits. The cheerful gods are
dethroned; the rhythmic pulsations of that ju-
bilant religion which inspired this immortal
work have died away, and Earth will never see
another Parthenon.
The air was perfectly STILL the sky calm as
summer overhead. and, as we sat in the mar
BILE chairs, we looked out over the ruins and
the parapet of the Acropolis, to the purple
hills of Pentelicus and Parnes in the north and
west, and to the Egean Sea, flashing in the
sunshine like a pavement of silver between the
shores of Attica and Esina, Poros and Hydra,
in the distance. The glorious landscape,
bathed in all beautiful tints, and filling the
horizon with swelling curves and long, vanish
ing outlines, wore that soothed and tranquil
air which day of summer falling suddenly
in the lap of winter, always brings with it
But there was no solace for me in the sunny
repose of the Grecian world below. ] sat in
temple dedicated to Eternal Sorrow
$50 beautiful, if Sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beautys self
and a grief in which there was no particle of
Selfishness, oyercame me.
thought all these thoughts, and thousand
more, while sitting in the marble chair, 'front.'
ing the vacant pavement OF the sanctuary of
Pallas Athene | did not care for the de-
throned Pallas, nor her dead worshippers
tHOuSut HOt vi Seli uUi IdCc vi OieehS
or Americans, of 400 B. C. or 1857 A. D.
was possessed with the spirit of the glorious
temple around and above me. And the refec-
ton came, involuntarily: Are not the triumphs
of human art the sublimest praises of Him who
created the human mind? What conceptions
of Deity guided the hand which daubed yon-
der barbarous frescoes, and that which raised
these perfect pillars? What ancient or mod
ern Saint dares to sneer at Hcdthen Greece,
where Socrates spake, and Phidias chiseled,
and Ictinus built, g!orifying God, through the
glory of man, for all time to come.
We walked slowly away, and looked down
from the northern rampant upon modern
Athens, the whole of which lay spread out be-
meath our feet. 1t was depressing-I had
almost said disgusting-sight. A company of
dirty Greeks were gambling in the street at
the foot of the Acropolis; the bells were ring
ing in the churches, and some bearded priests,
with candles in their hands, were chanting
nasaly and dsmally, in slow procession; still
further, shabby 6acres moving to and fro,
slovenly soldiers in German uniforms, country
people with laden asses, and beggars by the
wayside. The Kings Palace shown bald and
broad at the foot of Mount Lycabettus, and the
new portion of the city, with its square Ger
man houses, stretched scatteringly away over
the brown swells, until the eye passed 1t to
rest, relieved on the olive orchards of Colonos
and the far blue gorges of Mount Parnes.