As Dr. Clarke drew near to the walls, he beheld the vast Cecropian citadel, crowned with temples, that originated in the veneration, once paid to the memory of the illustrious dead, surrounded by objects, telling the same theme of sepulchral grandeur, and now monuments of departed greatness, mouldering in all the solemnity of ruin. "So paramount is this funereal character in the approach to Athens from the Piræus," says he, "that as we passed the hill of the Museum, which was, in fact, an ancient cemetery of the Athenians, we might have imagined ourselves to be among the tombs of Telmessus, from the number of sepulchres hewn in the rock, and from the antiquity of the workmanship, evidently not of later date than any thing of the kind in Asia Minor. In other respects, the city exhibits nearly the appearance so briefly described by Strabo, eighteen centuries before our coming; and perhaps it wears a more magnificent aspect, owing to the splendid remains of Hadrian's temple of Olympian Jove, which did not exist when Athens was visited by the disciple of Xenacchus."
"The first monument," says La Martine, "which attracts your attention, is the temple of Olympian Jupiter, the magnificent columns of which rise alone upon a deserted naked spot, on the right of what was Athens – a worthy portico of a city in ruins." This temple74 was pretended by the Athenians to have been originally founded in the time of Deucalion, and to have subsisted nine hundred years; but in the end falling into ruin, it began to be rebuilt by Pisistratus, and having received additions from several hands during the space of seven hundred years, was completely finished by the Emperor Hadrian, and dedicated to Jupiter Olympus, to whose honour the same prince erected a colossal statue of immense value, both on account of the richness of its materials and the beauty of its workmanship. Nothing in all Greece, nor even in the whole world, was equal to the magnificence of this temple. Its area was computed to be four stadia. The inside was embellished with statues by the best hands, placed between each column, which were gifts from all the cities of Greece, that were desirous of paying their court to the Emperor; among whom the Athenians distinguished themselves by the colossus, erected by them in honour of the monarch himself. It is impossible from the remains to collect the plan of the whole building; there being nothing left but ten beautiful Corinthian pillars, with their friezes, architraves, and cornices, two fluted, the remaining eight plain. Close behind the eight, which stand in one rank, is a wall of white marble, the same as the columns, and, at the south end, the two that project, being fluted, and on a different line from the others, seem to have formed the entrance of the temple75.
The solitary grandeur of these marble ruins76 is, perhaps, more striking than the appearance presented by any other object at Athens; insomuch that the Turks themselves seem to regard them with an eye of respect and admiration; large parties of them being frequently seen seated on their carpets, in the long shade of the columns. "Rome," says Chandler, "afforded no example of this species of building. It was one of the four marble edifices, which had raised to the pinnacle of renown the architects who planned them; men, it is said, admired in the assembly of the gods for their wisdom and excellence."
Of this temple seventeen columns were standing in 1676; but, a few years before Chandler arrived at Athens, one was thrown down, for the purpose of building a new mosque in the market-place.
Some of the columns still support their architraves, as we have before stated, one of which was found to equal three feet in width, and although of one entire piece of marble, it extended in length twenty-two feet six inches. On the top of the entablature is shown the dwelling of a hermit, who fixed his abode upon this eminence, and dedicated his life entirely to the contemplation of the sublime objects by which his residence was on all sides surrounded.
The beauty of the temple of Theseus77 is not at all prejudiced by its littleness; but still remains a masterpiece of architecture, not easy to be paralleled, much less exceeded. Much of the history of Theseus is expressed in relievo, on the pronaos of the front and west end, where all the tricks and art of wrestling seem well expressed. There are, also, some in women's habits, to express the war of the Amazons.
This elegant building78 is supposed to have furnished the model of the Parthenon, which resembles it in the most essential points, though it is nearly of double the size. Indeed, the Theseion impresses the beholder more by its symmetry than its magnitude. It is now converted into a Christian church. "On approaching the temple of Theseus," says La Martine, "though convinced by what I had read of its beauty, I was astonished to find myself quite unmoved; my heart sought to bestir itself; my eye sought to admire; but in vain. I felt what one always feels at the sight of a work without faults, – a negative pleasure, – but as to a real, strong impression, a sense of powerful or involuntary delight, I experienced nothing. This temple is too small; it is a kind of sublime plaything of art. It is not a monument for the gods; nor even for men for ages. I felt but one instant of ecstacy, and that was when, seated at the western angle of the temple, on its last steps, my eye embraced, at one glance, the magnificent harmony of its forms, the majestic elegance of its columns, the empty and more sombre space of its portico; and on its internal frieze, the combats of the Centaurs and the Lapithæ; and above, through the opening of the centre, the blue and resplendent sky, shedding a serene and mystical light on the cornices and the projecting slopes of the bassi-rilievi, which seem to live and to move." All this seems rather extraordinary.
"On your way from Piræum to the city of Athens," says Lord Sandwich, "you pass all along the ruins of Themistocles' wall. The road is in the middle of a beautiful plain, covered with vineyards and olive trees, which, being bounded on one side by mountains, and on the other by the sea, affords a most delightful prospect. Before your entrance into the city, the first monument of antiquity that presents itself to your view, is the temple of Theseus, built by the Athenians, in honour of that hero, soon after the battle of Marathon. This temple was allowed the privilege of being a sanctuary for all fugitives, in memory that Theseus, in his lifetime, protected the distressed. It cannot be too much commended, both on account of the beauty of the materials and regularity of the architecture; besides which, it has the advantage of being in a manner entire, there being nothing wanting to it but a small part of the roof."
In spite of its beauty, what says Monsieur La Martine? "No; the temple of Theseus is not worthy of its fame; it cannot be said to live as a monument. It is not suggestive of what it ought to be. It is beautiful, no doubt; but it is a kind of frigid, dead beauty, of which the artist alone ought to go and shake the shroud, and wipe the dust. As for me, I admired unquestionably; but quitted it without any desire to see it again. The beautiful stones of the columns of the Vatican, the majestic colossal shadows of St. Peters at Rome, never suffered me to leave them without regret, or the hope of return." Can all this be real? or is it merely an affectation?
"During our residence of ten weeks," says Sir John Hobhouse, "there was not, I believe, a day of which we did not devote a part to the contemplation of the noble monuments of Grecian genius, that have outlived the ravages of time, and the outrage of barbarous and antiquarian despoilers. The temple of Theseus, which was within five minutes' walk of our