San Andreas independent., 1858-05-01
Bayard Taylor at Athens the Parthenon

After traversing Dalmatia, Mr. Taylor went
to Greece From letters from him, dated in
December and January last, given in the N
Y Tribune, we extract the following notes of
the appearance of modern Athens, and the
authors feelings when standing on the famous
temple of Minerva, the Parthenon:
Now we set off for Athens, shivering in the
sharp wind, and looking out on either hand
OH bare, bleak fields, lighted by the full moon
After an hour some olive trees appeared, and
we crossed the Cephissus; then bare fields
again, bleaker and colder than ever. At last
the ground became more uneven, broke into
detached hills on our right, over which lowered
the Acropolis-there was no mstaking that
and recognized without difficulty, the Hill
of the Nymphs, the Areopagus and the Mu-
scion Now commenced the town itself-low,
shabby houses, streets only lighted by the
moon. Here, thought I, is terrible olsen
chantment. Can anything be more forlorn and
desolate? The chill, gray hue of all things,
the baroness and bleakness of our approach,
the appearance of the modern town, the cold
piercing air, made, all together, the most dis
heartening impression upon me. But when
we got into Hermes street. and thence to our
hotel (de i Orient things looked more cheer
ing and promising. Once inside the ediice,
we forgot our sappointment-forgot Athens,
indeed-for Christmas dinner awaited u.s.
and there were other places and other people
| to be remembered x K The day was
gift from heaven; not wind blowing, not
cloud floating, and so warm that we threw
open all our windows. Hymettus, Corydallus
and Parnes melted into vapory purple in the
distance, but the nearer hills shone clear
against the bluest of Crecian skies. All Athens
was in the streets, and the crimson jackets
and clean white fustanellas of the palikars
sparked far and near through the dismal
throng of Frank dresses We passed down
! Hermes street to the outskirts of the city, in
order first to visit the Temple of Theseus.-
This edifce is the best preserved of all ancient
| temples, stands on a mound at the foot of the
! Areopagus, on its western side overlooking
part of the modern city. Its outer colonnade
of Dorc pillars, tinted with rich golden stain,
is entire the celia is for the most part so, and
little but the roof is wanting. 1t is small but
very beautiful, and with such a background
the olive groves of the Academy, Colonos
and Parnes.
Our first Athenan day was bright and fair,
and what we saw during walk to the temple
of Jupiter Olympus was entirely sufficient to
remove the chill impressions of the previous
night. There are few towns of its size in the
world as lively as Athens. We almost
the worst of it on entering from the Piraus.
All the northern portion, which is newer, is
| very substantially built and has comforta-
BILE air of growth and improvement. AS half
the population may be said to live out of doors,
the principal streets are always thronged, and
the gorgeous raiment of the dandy palikars
brightens and adorns them amazingly. 1t is
not the Orient, by great deal yet it is far
removed from the soberness of Europe. In
deed, the people here speak of Europe as a
continent outside of Greece. Neither is Athens
particularly Greek, with its French fashions
and German architecture. 1t is simply gay,
bizarre, fantastic-a salad, in which many
heterogeneous substances combine 10 form
pleasant whole.
Our way was through the depression be-
tween the Areopagus and the Pnyx, but Fran
co.'s, the local guide took us aside to show
us the smooth, rocky slant on the Nympheon,
! down which the sterile danes OF Athens were
wont to slide, in order to remove their msfor
tune. The pregnant women also performed
the same ceremony, it is said, in order to as
certain the sex of the unborn child, through
| the inclination of the body to the right or left.
1t is an exposed steep plane of native rock,
!
thoroughly by the action of SO much expec-
tant maternity. Francois seated himself and
| slid down, in order to show US how the act was
performed, affirming that the belief still exists
and that many of the Athenan women of the
present day continue the practice.
At last we had climbed the bare surface of
the hill, and stood before the ancient entrance
of the Acropolis-a sloping pylon, now closed
! by a wooden grating. x We turned
back, climbed little further, entered gate
way, exhibited our ticket Ia months permis-
sion to visit the Acropolis, and then passed
through another wall to the broad marble
staircase leading directly up to the Propylon
of the Acropolis.
''You are now going up the same steps
where Pericles walked" said Francois.
Not only Pericles but the curled Alcibiades,
the serene Plato, the unshaken Socrates, the
divine Phidias, Sophocles and Eschylus, He
rodotuS and Themistocles, and-but why men,
ton names, when the full sunshine of that
immortal era streams upon our pathway
And what is it to me that they have walked
where now walk? Let me not be wheedled
out of my comfortable indifference by the
rhythmic ringing of such names. The traveller
comes here expecting to be impressed by the
associations of the spot, and by strong eff
fort he succeeds in impressing himself. Re-
peat the same names for him elsewhere, and
he will produce the same effect. But for me,
| am hardened against conventional sentiment;
| have seen too much to be easily moved;
can resist the magic of ancient memories, no
matter how classic. What is it to me that
Pericles walked up these steps-that the
gilded robes of Aspasia swept up these Pente-
lcan slabs-that Phidias saw the limbs of a
god in the air, or Sophocles chanted chorus
as he walked? They were men, and am a
man, too-probably in many respects as good
as they. Had lived in their time, I should
no doubt have looked upon them without the
least awe-have slapped them on the back,
and invited them to dinner. Now, why should
their ghosts shake me with weak emotion, and
rob me fmy cool judgment? No; shall be
Indifferent
So meditating walked up the steps.
The Propylon still forms portal which di-
vides two worlds You leave modern and
medieval associations behind you, and are
alone with the past. Over the ramparts OF
the Acropolis, you see no more of the noun
tains or the distant Egean islands than the
oldest Greek-large outlines, simple tlnts, and
no object distinct enough to tell whether 1t be
new or old. The last of the portals is passed
you are on the summit, alone with the FAR
THENoN. You need no pointing finger: your
eye turns, instinctively, to where 1t stanas:--