entablatures, displaying different orders of architecture, the lowest
being Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian, surmounted by
an attic story, with Composite pilasters, and forty windows. The two
upper tiers of arches, which have the remains of pedestals for statues
in them, admitted light to the various ambulacra or corridors, which
were quadrangular at the base, diminishing in number and size as they
ascended, and terminating in a single passage at the top. The lowest
tier of arches were the entrances, seventy-six of which were for the
emperor, finely ornamented; one for the spectators, of various
denominations; and one for the consuls, senators, &c.; and two for the
gladiators, animals, &c. These entrances led to the various staircases
by which the populace gained the different dormitories, and descended by
narrow flights of steps, to the graduated ranges of seats. Altogether
there were one hundred and sixty staircases: that is,—to the first
floor, sixty-four; to the second, fifty-two; to the third, sixteen; to
the fourth, twenty-four; and four to the extreme top, for the workmen.
In the four ambulacra on the ground floor, were shops, taverns, stables,
and rooms for refreshments, and places where perfumes were burned. There
was also a fifth, or private passage, under the pulvinar, for the use of
the emperor, which communicated subterraneously with the palace. In the
tier above were twenty-two small vaulted chambers, called fornices,
devoted to the sensual pleasures of the privileged classes.

It is impossible to say at what period the amphitheatre was first
suffered to decay. The sanguinary exhibitions of the gladiators were
abolished in the reign of Honorius, at the commencement of the fifth
century; yet so late as 1632, it must have been perfect, as bull-fights,
and other games, were at that time exhibited. A great portion of the
southern side was demolished by order of Paul III., it is said at the
recommendation of Michael Angelo, to furnish materials for the Farnese
palace for his nephew, and the complaints of the populace alone saved it
from total demolition. It has however since suffered frequently from
similar depredations of worse than Goths and Vandals, so that

               “From its mass,
   Walls, palaces, half cities have been rear’d.”

These robberies have now ceased; Benedict XIV. having, by the erection
of a series of altars in the arena, made the whole consecrated ground; a
most efficient protection against the ravages of modern barbarism. Pius
has also erected a massive buttress against the weakest end, and
repaired some parts of the interior. Thus, after a lapse of nearly
eighteen centuries, having frequently suffered from earthquakes, storms,
and fire; having been several times battered as a fortress, during the
civil contentions of the middle ages; defaced as a quarter for soldiers;
used as a manufactory, and worked as a quarry, it still remains a
miracle of human labour and ingenuity, and is, even in its present
state, one of the noblest remains of antiquity, and the most wonderful
monument of Roman magnificence. Solitary and desolated, it is still
grand and imposing; the rich hues which time has overspread its
venerable fragments with, the luxuriant clusters of vegetation, and the
graceful drapery of numerous beautiful creepers, festooning from the
rifted arches, and broken arcades, whilst assimilating with the general
character, add an indescribable richness and variety to the whole, that
has a powerful effect on the mind of the spectator.

When the whole amphitheatre was entire[190], a child might comprehend
its design in a moment, and go direct to his place without straying in
the porticoes; for each arcade bears its number engraved, and opposite
each arcade was a staircase. This multiplicity of wide, straight, and
separate passages, proves the attention which the ancients paid to the
safe discharge of a crowd.[191] As it now stands, the Coliseum is a
striking image of Rome itself;—decayed, vacant, serious; yet
grand:—half grey, and half green; erect on one side and fallen on the
other, with consecrated ground in its bosom, inhabited by a herdsman;
visited by every caste: for moralists, antiquaries, painters,
architects, devotees, all meet here to meditate, to examine, to draw, to
measure, and to copy.

The figure of the Coliseum was an ellipse, whose longer diameter was
about six hundred and fifteen English feet, and the shorter five hundred
and ten feet. The longer diameter of the arena, or space within, was
about two hundred and eighty-one feet, and the shorter one hundred and
seventy-six feet, leaving the circuit for seats and galleries, of about
one hundred and fifty-seven feet in breadth. The outward circumference
when complete was about seventeen hundred and seventy-two feet, covering
a surface of about two hundred and forty-six thousand, six hundred and
sixty-one feet, or something more than five acres and a half. When some
pilgrims[192] who journeyed to Rome beheld this vast amphitheatre, they
are said to have exclaimed, “As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall
stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; and when Rome falls, the
world will fall.”

[193]It is impossible to contemplate without horror the dreadful scenes
of carnage which for two hundred and fifty years disgraced the
amphitheatre, or to regard without utter detestation the character of
the people who took pleasure in spectacles of such monstrous brutality.
We may form some idea of the myriads of men and animals destroyed in
these houses of slaughter, from one instance which is recorded by Dio.
He informs us that after the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians,
spectacles were exhibited for one hundred and twenty-three days, in
which eleven thousand animals were killed, and one thousand gladiators
were matched against each other. Nor was it only malefactors, captives,
and slaves, that were doomed to contend in these dreadful games:
free-born citizens hired themselves as gladiators, men of noble birth
sometimes degraded themselves so far as to fight on the stage for the
amusement of their countrymen,—even women, ladies too of high rank,
forgetting the native delicacy and the feebleness of their sex, strove
on the arena for the prize of valour for the honour of adroitness in
murder. A people thus inured to blood, were prepared for every villainy;
nor is it possible to read of the enormities which disgraced the
transactions of the later Romans, without ascribing them in a great
measure to the ferocity of temper, fostered by the shocking amusements
of the amphitheatre.

“The Coliseo,” says Dupaty, “is unquestionably the most admirable
monument of the Roman power under the Cæsars. From its vast circuit,
from the multitude of stones of which it is formed, from that union of
columns of every order, which rise up one above the other, in a circular
form, to support three rows of porticoes; from all the dimensions, in a
word, of this prodigious edifice, we instantly recognise the work of a
people, sovereigns of the universe, and slaves of an emperor. I wandered
long around the Coliseo, without venturing, if I may so say, to enter
it: my eyes surveyed it with admiration and awe. Not more than one half
of this vast edifice at present is standing; yet the imagination may
still add what has been destroyed, and complete the whole. At length I
entered within its precincts. What an astonishing scene! What contrasts!
What a display of ruins, and of all the parts of the monument, of every
form, every age, and, as I may say, every year; some bearing the marks
of the hand of time, and others of the hand of the barbarian. These
crumbled down yesterday, those a few days before, a great number on the
point of falling, and some, in short, which are falling from one moment
to another. Here we see a tottering portico, there a falling
entablament, and further on, a seat; while, in the meanwhile, the ivy,
the bramble, the moss, and various plants, creep amongst these ruins,
grow, and insinuate themselves; and, taking root in the cement, are
continually detaching, separating, and reducing to powder these enormous
masses; the work of ages, piled on each other by the will of an emperor,
and the labour of a hundred thousand slaves. There was it then that
gladiators, martyrs, and slaves, combated on the Roman festivals, only
to make the blood circulate a little quicker in the veins of a hundred
thousand idle spectators. I thought I still heard the roaring of the
lions, the sighs of the dying, the voice of the executioners, and what
would strike my ear with still greater horror, the applauses of the
Romans. I thought I heard them, by these applauses, encouraging and
demanding carnage; the men requiring still more blood from the
combatants; and the women, more mercy for the dying. I imagined I beheld
one of these women, young and beautiful, on the fall of a gladiator,
rise from her seat and with an eye which had just caressed a lover,
welcome, or repel, find fault with, or applaud, the last sigh of the
vanquished, as if she had paid for it.

“But what a change has taken place in this arena! In the middle stands a
crucifix, and all round this crucifix, at equal distances, fourteen
altars, consecrated to different saints, are erected in the dens, which
once contained the wild beasts. The Coliseo was daily hastening to
destruction; the stones were carried off, and it was constantly
disfigured, and made the receptacle of filth; when Benedict XIV.
conceived the idea of saving this noble monument by consecrating it; by
defending it with altars, and protecting it with indulgences. These
walls, these columns, and these porticoes, have now no other support
but the names of those very martyrs with whose blood they were formerly
stained. I walked through every part of the Coliseo; I ascended into all
its different stories; and sat down in the box of the emperors. I shall
long remember the silence and solitude that reigned through these
galleries, along these ranges of seats, and under these vaulted
porticoes. I stopped from time to time to listen to the echo of my feet
in walking. I was delighted, too, with attending to a certain faint
rustling, more sensible to the soul than to the ear, occasioned by the
hand of time, which is continually at work, and undermining the Coliseo
on every side. What pleasure did I not enjoy, too, in observing how the
day gradually retired, and the night as gradually advanced over the
arcades, spreading her lengthening shadows. At length I was obliged to
retire; with my mind, however, filled with and absorbed in a thousand
ideas, a thousand sensations, which can only arise among these ruins,
and which these ruins in some degree inspire. Where are the five
thousand wild beasts that tore each other to pieces, on the day on which
this mighty pile was opened? Silent now are those unnatural shouts of
applause, called forth by the murderous fights of the gladiators:—What
a contrast to this death of sound!”

“Ascending among the ruins,” says Mr. Williams, “we took our station
where the whole magnitude of the Coliseum was visible. What a fulness of
mind the first glance excited; yet how inexpressible, at the same time,
were our feelings! The awful silence of this dread ruin still appealed
to our hearts. The single sentinel’s tread, and the ticking of our
watches, were the only sounds we heard, while the moon was marching in
the vault of night, and the stars were peeping through the various
openings; the shadows of the flying clouds being all that reminded us of
life and of motion.”

The manner, in which the traveller should survey the curiosities of
Rome, must be determined by the length of time which he can afford for
that purpose. “There are two modes of seeing Rome,” says Mr. Mathews;
“the topographical, followed by Vasi, who parcels out the town into
eight divisions, and jumbles every thing together,—antiquities,
churches, and palaces, if their situation be contiguous; and the
chronological,—which would carry you regularly from the house of
Romulus to the palace of the reigning pontiff. The first mode is the
most expeditious, and the least expensive; for even if the traveller
walk afoot, the economy of time is worth considering; and after all that
can be urged in favour of the chronological order, on the score of
reason, Vasi’s plan is perhaps the best. For all that is worth seeing at
all is worth seeing twice. Vasi’s mode hurries you through every thing;
but it enables you to select and note down those objects that are worthy
of public examination, and these may be afterwards studied at leisure.
Of the great majority of sights it must be confessed that all we obtain
for our labour is the knowledge that they are not worth seeing;—but
this is a knowledge, that no one is willing to receive upon the
authority of another, and Vasi’s plan offers a most expeditious mode of
arriving at this truth by one’s own proper experience. His plan is,
however, too expeditious; for he would get through the whole town, with
all its wonders, ancient and modern, in eight days!”

Expeditious as it is, some of our indefatigable countrymen have
contrived to hit upon one still more so. You may tell them that the
antiquaries allow eight days for the tour, and they will boast of having
beaten the antiquaries, and “done it in six.” This rapid system may do,
or rather must do, for those who have no time for any other; but to the
traveller who wishes to derive instruction and profit from his visit, a
more leisurely survey is essential. “For my own part,” says Mr. Woods,
“the first eight days I spent in Rome were all hurry and confusion, and
I could attend to nothing systematically, nor even examine any thing
with accuracy; a sort of restless eagerness to see every thing and know
every thing, gave me no power of fixing my attention on any one
particular.”

We must now close our account: not that we have by any means exhausted
the subject, for it demands volumes and years; whereas our space is
limited, and our time is short. We shall, therefore, devote the
remainder of our space and time to the impressions with which the ruins
of this city have been viewed by several elegant and accomplished
travellers.

“At length I behold Rome,” said Dupaty. “I behold that theatre, where
human nature has been all that it can ever be, has performed every thing
it can perform, has displayed all the virtues, exhibited all the vices,
brought forth the sublimest heroes, and the most execrable monsters, has
been elevated to a Brutus, degraded to a Nero, and re-ascended to a
Marcus Aurelius.”

“Even those who have not read at all,” says Dr. Burton, “know, perhaps,
more of the Romans than of any other nation[194] which has figured in
the world. If we prefer modern history to ancient, we still find Rome in
every page; and if we look with composure upon an event so antiquated as
the fall of the Roman empire, we cannot, as Englishmen, or as
protestants, contemplate with indifference the sacred empire which Rome
erected over the minds and consciences of men. Without making any
invidious allusion, it may be said that this second empire has nearly
passed away; so that, in both points of view, we have former
recollections to excite our curiosity.”

“Neither the superb structures,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “nor the happy
climate, have made Rome the country of every man, and ‘the city of the
soul.’ The education, which has qualified the traveller of every nation
for that citizenship, prepares enjoyments for him at Rome, independent
of the city and inhabitants about him, and of all the allurements of
site and climate. He will already people the banks of the Tiber with the
shades of Pompey, Constantine, and Belisarius, and other heroes. The
first footsteps within the venerable walls will have shown him the name
and magnificence of Augustus, and the three long narrow streets,
branching from the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza del Popolo, like
the theatre of Palladio, will have imposed upon his fancy with an air of
antiquity congenial to the soil. Even the mendicants of the country
asking alms in Latin prayers, and the vineyard gates of the suburbs,
inscribed with the ancient language, may be allowed to contribute to the
agreeable delusion.”

“What,” says Chateaubriand, gazing on the ruins of Rome by moonlight,
“what was doing here eighteen centuries ago, at a like hour of night?
Not only has ancient Italy vanished, but the Italy of the middle ages is
also gone. Nevertheless, the traces of both are plainly marked at Rome.
If this modern city vaunts her St. Peter’s, ancient Rome opposes her
Pantheon and all her ruins; if the one marshals from the Capitol her
consuls and emperors, the other arrays her long succession of pontiffs.
The Tiber divides the rival glories; seated in the same dust, pagan Rome
sinks faster and faster into decay, and Christian Rome is gradually
re-descending into the catacombs whence she issued.”

What says Lord Byron in regard to this celebrated city?—“I am
delighted with Rome. As a whole—ancient and modern—it beats Greece,
Constantinople, every thing,—at least that I have seen. As for the
Coliseum, Pantheon, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, &c. &c., they are quite
inconceivable, and must be _seen_.”

We close this article with a fine passage from Middleton’s Life of
Cicero:—“One cannot help reflecting on the surprising fate and
revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, once the mistress of the world, the
seat of arts, empire, and glory, now lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and
poverty, enslaved to the most cruel, as well as the most contemptible of
tyrants, superstition and religious imposture; while this remote
country, anciently the jest and contempt of the polite Romans, is become
the happy seat of liberty, plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the
arts and refinements of civil life; yet running, perhaps, the same
course which Rome itself had run before,—from virtuous industry to
wealth; from wealth to luxury; from luxury to an impatience of
discipline and corruption of morals; till, by a total degeneracy and
loss of virtue, being grown ripe for destruction, it falls a prey at
last to some hardy oppressor; and, with the loss of liberty, losing
every thing that is valuable, sinks gradually again into original
barbarism.”

   See the wild waste of all-devouring years:
   How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears!
   With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
   The very tombs now vanish’d like their dead!
   Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil’d,
   Where mix’d with slaves the groaning martyr toil’d:
   Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
   Now drain’d a distant country of her floods:
   Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey,
   Statues of men, scarce less alive than they![195]

   POPE’S _Epistle to Addison_.

NO. XXII.—SAGUNTUM.

    _Proud and cruel nation! every thing must be yours, and at
    your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall
    make war; with whom we shall make peace! You are to set
    bounds; to shut us up between hills and rivers: but you—you
    are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed.
    Pass not the Iberus. What next? Touch not the Saguntines.
    Saguntum is upon the Iberus; move not a step towards that
    city._

    HANNIBAL’S SPEECH TO HIS SOLDIERS.

Saguntum was a celebrated city of Hispania Taraconensis, on the west
side of the Iberus, about a mile from the sea-shore. It was founded by a
colony of Zacynthians, and by some of the Rutili of Ardea[196].

Saguntum, according to Livy, acquired immense riches, partly from its
commerce both by land and sea, and partly from its just laws and
excellent police.

Saguntum was under the protection of the Romans, if not numbered amongst
its cities; and when by a treaty made between that people and the
Carthaginians, the latter were permitted to carry their arms as far as
the Iberus, this city was excepted.

The moment Hannibal was created general, he lost no time, for fear of
being prevented by death, as his father had been. Though the Spaniards
had so much advantage over him, with regard to the number of forces,
their army amounting to upwards of one hundred thousand men, yet he
chose his time and posts so happily, that he entirely defeated them.
After this every thing submitted to his arms. But he still forbore
laying siege to Saguntum, carefully avoiding every occasion of a rupture
with the Romans, till he should be furnished with all things necessary
for so important an enterprise;—pursuant to the advice of his father.
He applied himself particularly to engage the affections of the citizens
and allies, and to gain their confidence, by allotting them a large
share of the plunder taken from the enemy, and by paying them all their
arrears.

The Saguntines, on their side, sensible of the danger with which they
were threatened, from the continued successes of Hannibal, advertised
the Romans of them. Upon this, deputies were nominated by the latter,
and ordered to go and take a personal information upon the spot; they
commanded them also to lay their complaints before Hannibal, if it
should be thought proper; and in case he should refuse to do justice,
that then they should go directly to Carthage, and make the same
complaints. In the meantime, Hannibal laid siege to Saguntum, promising
himself great advantages from the taking of this city. He was persuaded
that this would deprive the Romans of all hopes of carrying the war into
Spain; that this new conquest would secure the old ones; and that no
enemy would be left behind him; that he should find money enough in it
for the execution of his designs; that the plunder of the city would
inspire his soldiers with great ardour, and make them follow him with
greater cheerfulness; and that, lastly, the spoils which he should send
to Carthage would gain him the favour of the citizens. Animated by
these motives, he carried on the siege with the utmost vigour.

News was soon carried to Rome, that Saguntum was besieged. But the
Romans, instead of flying to its relief, lost their time in fruitless
debates, and equally insignificant disputations. The Saguntines were now
reduced to the last extremity, and in want of all things. An
accommodation was thereupon proposed; but the conditions on which it was
offered, appeared so harsh, that the Saguntines could not so much as
think of accepting them. Before they gave their final answer, the
principal senators, bringing their gold and silver, and that of the
public treasury, into the market-place, threw both into a fire, lighted
for that purpose, and afterwards themselves! At the same time, a tower
which had been long assaulted by the battering-rams, falling with a
dreadful noise, the Carthaginians entered the city by the breach, and
soon made themselves masters of it, and cut to pieces all the
inhabitants, who were of sufficient age to bear arms.

“Words,” says Polybius, “could never express the grief and consternation
with which the news of the taking, and cruel fate of Saguntum, was
received at Rome. Compassion for an unfortunate city, shame for their
having failed to succour such faithful allies, a just indignation
against the Carthaginians, the authors of all these calamities; the
strong alarms, raised by the successes of Hannibal, whom the Romans
fancied they saw already at their gates; all these sentiments were so
violent, that, during the first moments of them, the Romans were unable
to come to any resolution, or do any thing, but give way to the torrent
of their passion, and sacrifice floods of tears to the memory of a city,
which lay in ruins because of its inviolable fidelity to the Romans,
and had been betrayed by their imprudent delays, and unaccountable
indolence. When they were a little recovered, an assembly of the people
was called, and war unanimously declared against the people of
Carthage.”

The conqueror afterwards rebuilt it, and placed a garrison there, with
all the noblemen whom he had detained as hostages, from the several
neighbouring nations of Spain[197].

The city remained in a deplorable state of distress under the
Carthaginians, till the year of Rome 538, when Scipio, having humbled
the power of Carthage in Spain, in process of time recovered Saguntum,
and made it, as Pliny says, “a new city.” By the Romans it was treated
with every kind of distinction; but at some period, not ascertained by
historians, it was reduced to ruins.

The city of Morviedro is supposed to be situated on the ruins of
Saguntum; the name of which being derived from _Muri veteres_, _Muros
viejos_, “old walls.” It abounds with vestiges of antiquity. Several
Celtiberian and Roman inscriptions are seen; but of all the numerous
statues that the temples, and other public edifices of Saguntum once
had, only one remains, of white marble, without a head; besides the
fragment of another.

The traces of the walls of its circus are, nevertheless, still
discernible; though its mosaic pavement is destroyed. A greater portion
of the theatre remains than of any other Roman monument.

A writer on Spanish antiquities in 1684, gives the following account of
this city, whereby we may learn that at that time there were many more
remains of antiquity then there are at present. “The Roman
inscriptions,” says he, “that are scattered up and down in the public
and private buildings, and the medals and other monuments of antiquity,
that have been found there, being endless, I shall only present my
reader with that which is over one of the gates of the town, in honour
of the emperor Claudius:—

   “SENATVS. POPVLVSQUE.
      SAGVNTINORVM.
        CLAVDIO.
   INVICTO. PIO. FEL. IMP.
     CAES. PONT. MAX.
     TRIB. POT. P.P.
        PROCOS.

“And upon another gate, near the cathedral, is a head of Hannibal, cut
in stone. From hence, if you mount still higher up the rock, you come to
an amphitheatre, which has twenty-six rows of seats one above another,
all cut in the rock; and in the other parts the arches are so thick and
strong, that they are little inferior to the rock itself. There are
remains of prodigious aqueducts, and numbers of vast cisterns under
ground. As this country has been celebrated by Titus Livius, and
Polybius, for its fertility, I shall take notice of one or two of its
productions, which are peculiar to it. First then, the winter figs,
which Pliny speaks of, are to be met with in great perfection at this
day; and are almost as remarkable for their flavour and sweetness, as
for their hanging upon the trees in the middle of the winter. Their
pears also have a higher reputation than any others. There are
cherry-trees that are full of fine fruit in January: and in a place near
Canet, about half a league off, they raised a melon that weighed thirty
pounds[198].”

NO. XXIII.—SAIS.

Sais stands on the eastern side of the Nile, near the place where a
canal, passing across the Delta, joins the Pelusiac with the Canopic
branch of the Nile.

It was the metropolis of Lower Egypt; and its inhabitants were,
originally, an Athenian colony.

At this place there was a temple dedicated to Minerva, who is supposed
to be the same as Isis, with the following inscription:—“I am whatever
hath been, and is, and shall be; no mortal hath yet pierced through the
veil that shrouds me.”

In this city Osiris is said to have been buried. “They have a tomb at
Sais,” says Herodotus, “of a certain personage, whom I do not think
myself permitted to specify. It is behind the Temple of Minerva, and is
continued by the whole length of the wall of that building: around this
are many large obelisks, near which is a lake, whose banks are lined
with stone. It is of a circular form, and, I should think, as large as
that of Delos, which is called Trochoeides.”

To name this “personage” seems to have been an act carefully to be
avoided. How very sacred the ancients deemed their mysteries appears
from the following passage in Apollonius Rhodius:—

       “To Samothrace, Electra’s isle, they steer:
   That there, initiated in rights divine,
   Safe might they sail the navigable brine.
   But Muse, presume not of those rights to tell.
   Farewell, dread isle, dire deities, farewell!
   Let not my verse these mysteries explain;
   To name is impious, to reveal profane.”

In this temple (that of Minerva) Herodotus informs us the inhabitants
buried their princes; and in the area before it stood a large marble
edifice, magnificently adorned with obelisks in the shape of palm-trees,
with various other ornaments. This temple was erected by Amasis, who was
a native of Sais.[199]

In magnitude and grandeur it surpassed any they had before seen; of such
enormous size were the stones employed in the building and foundation.
There was a room cut out of one stone, which had been conveyed by water
from Elephantis by the labour of two thousand men; costing three years’
labour. This stone measured on the outside twenty-one cubits long,
fourteen broad, and eight high.

Cambyses entertained a mortal hatred to the monarch just mentioned. From
Memphis he went to Sais, where was the burying-place of the kings of
Egypt. As soon as he entered the palace, he caused the body of Amasis to
be taken out of its tomb, and after having exposed it to a thousand
indignities in his own presence, he ordered it to be cast into the fire
and burned; which was a thing equally contrary to the customs of the
Persians and Egyptians. The rage, this prince testified against the dead
body of Amasis, shows to what a degree he hated his person. Whatever was
the cause of this aversion, it seems to have been one of the chief
motives, Cambyses had of carrying his arms into Egypt.

The first notice of the ruins of Sais, by Europeans, occurs in the
travels of Egmont and Heyman, two Dutchmen, who found a curious
inscription in honour of its “benefactor,” Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.
They saw also a colossal statue of a female, with hieroglyphics.
Fourteen camel-loads of treasure are said to have been found among the
ruins.

“The village of Sé’l Hajar,” says Dr. Clarke, “seems in the suburban
district of the ancient city; for as we proceeded hence in an eastern
direction we soon discerned its vestiges. Irregular heaps, containing
ruined foundations which had defied the labours of the peasants,
appeared between the village, and some more considerable remains farther
towards the south-east. The earth was covered with fragments of the
ancient terra-cotta, which the labourers had cast out of their sieves.
At the distance of about three furlongs we came to an immense
quadrangular inclosure, nearly a mile wide, formed by high walls, or
rather mounds of earth, facing the four points of the compass, and
placed at right angles to each other, so as to surround the spacious
area. In the centre of this was another conical heap, supporting the
ruins of some building, whose original form cannot be now ascertained.
The ramparts of this inclosure are indeed so lofty as to be visible from
the river, although at this distance, the irregularity of their
appearance might cause a person ignorant of their real nature to mistake
them for natural eminences.”

Dr. Clarke found several things at Sais well worthy attention; among
which may be particularly mentioned several bronze relics; an
ara-triform sceptre, a curious hieroglyphic tablet[200], the torso of an
ancient statue, a triple hierogram with the symbol of the cross, and
several other antiquities.

On the east is another fragment of a very highly finished edifice; and
the hieroglyphics which remain are perfectly well sculptured.

Many fragments of these ruins have been, of late years, taken away by
Mohamed Bey, to build therewith a miserable palace at E’Sooan[201].

NO. XXIV.—SAMARIA.

Samaria is never called in Scripture Sebast, though strangers know it
only by that name.

Obadiah is supposed to have been buried in this city; and here, at one
time, were shown the tombs of Elisha, and of John the Baptist; and many
ancient coins of this town are still preserved in the cabinets of the
curious.

Samaria, during a siege, was afflicted with a great famine; and a very
extraordinary occurrence is related with respect to it[202].

“24. And it came to pass after this, that Benhadad king of Syria
gathered all his host, and went up, and besieged Samaria.

“25. And there was a great famine in Samaria; and, behold, they besieged
it, until an ass’s head was sold for fourscore pieces of silver, and the
fourth part of a cab of dove’s dung for five pieces of silver.

“26. And as the king of Israel was passing by upon the wall, there cried
a woman unto him, saying, Help, my lord, O king.

“27. And he said, if the Lord do not help thee, whence shall I help
thee? out of the barn-floor, or out of the wine-press?

“28. And the king said unto her, What aileth thee? And she answered,
This woman said unto me, Give thy son, that we may eat him to-day, and
we will eat my son to-morrow.

“29. So we boiled my son, and did eat him: and I said unto her on the
next day, Give thy son, that we may eat him: and she hath hid her son.

“30. And it came to pass, when the king heard the words of the woman,
that he rent his clothes; and he passed by upon the wall, and the people
looked, and, behold, he had sackcloth within upon his flesh.

“31. Then he said, God do so and more also to me, if the head of Elisha
the son of Shaphat shall stand on him this day.

“32. But Elisha sat in his house, and the elders sat with him; and the
king sent a man from before him; but ere the messenger came to him, he
said to the elders, See how this son of a murderer hath sent to take
away mine head! look, when the messenger cometh, shut the door, and hold
him fast at the door: is not the sound of his master’s feet behind him?

“33. And while he yet talked with them, behold, the messenger came down
unto him: and he said, Behold, this evil is of the Lord; what should I
wait for the Lord any longer?”

This was one of the cities of Palestine. The country in which it is
situated was at one time greatly infested with lions. The inhabitants
were always at variance with their neighbours the Jews,—who detested
them. The Samaritans having built a temple on Mount Gerizim, similar to
that at Jerusalem, insisting that Gerizim was the spot which God had
originally consecrated, the Jews never forgave them for so doing,
either in precept or practice. Their malice pursued them everywhere;
they called them rebels and apostates; and held them in such utter
detestation, that to say,—“There goes a Samaritan,” was a phrase
equivalent to that of “There goes a serpent.” This hatred was returned
with nearly equal force by the Samaritans; insomuch, that when the Jews
were building their temple, they did all they could to prevent the
execution of it.

When Alexander marched into Judæa, and had arrived at Jerusalem, the
Samaritans sent a number of deputies, with great pomp and ceremony, to
request that he would visit the temple they had erected on Mount
Gerizim. As they had submitted to Alexander, and assisted him with
troops, they naturally thought that they deserved as much favour from
him as the Jews; and, indeed, more. Alexander, however, does not appear
to have thought so; for when the deputies were introduced, he thanked
them, indeed, in a courteous manner, but he declined visiting their
temple; giving them to understand, that his affairs were urgent, and,
therefore, that he had not sufficient time; but that if he should return
that way from Egypt, he would not fail to do as they desired; that is,
if he had time. The Samaritans afterwards mutinied; in consequence of
which Alexander drove them out of Samaria; for they had set fire to the
house of the governor he had appointed, and burned him alive. He divided
their lands amongst the Jews, and repeopled their city with a colony of
Macedonians.

When Antiochus afterwards marched into their country, they had the
baseness to send a petition to that monarch, in which they declared
themselves not to be Jews; in confirmation of which they entreated, that
the temple, they had built upon Mount Gerizim, might be dedicated to the
Jupiter of Greece. This petition was received with favour; and the
temple was, therefore, dedicated as the Samaritans had petitioned.

This city was afterwards subject to the vengeance of Hyrcanus, son of
Simon, one of the Maccabees. It stood a siege for nearly a year. When
the conqueror took it, he ordered it to be immediately demolished. The
walls of the city, and the houses of the inhabitants, were entirely
razed and laid level with the ground; and, to prevent its ever being
rebuilt, he caused deep trenches and ditches to be cut through the new
plain, where the city had stood, into which water was turned[203].

Thus it remained till the time of Herod, who rebuilt the city; and, in
honour of Augustus, gave it the name of Sebastos[204].

NO. XXV.—SAPPHURA.

This village was once the chief city and bulwark of Galilee. Its
inhabitants often revolted against the Romans; but few remains of its
ancient greatness now exist. There are, however, ruins of a stately
Gothic edifice, which some travellers esteem one of the finest
structures in the Holy Land. “We entered,” says Dr. Clarke, “beneath
lofty massive arches of stone. The roof of the building was of the same
materials. The arches are placed in the intersection of a Greek cross,
and originally supported a dome or tower; their appearance is highly
picturesque, and they exhibit the grandeur of a noble style of
architecture. Broken columns of granite and marble lie scattered among
the walls; and these prove how richly it was decorated.” In this place
Dr. Clarke saw several very curious paintings.

This place was visited in the early part of the seventeenth century by a
Franciscan friar of Lodi, in Italy, named Quaresimius, who says:—“This
place now exhibits a scene of ruin and desolation, consisting only of
peasants’ habitations, and sufficiently manifests, in its remains, the
splendour of the ancient city. Considered as the native place of Joachim
and Anna, the parents of the Virgin, it is renowned, and worthy of being
visited.” “It is not easy,” says Dr. Clarke, “to account for the
disregard shown to a monument of antiquity, highly interesting from its
title to consideration in the history of ancient architecture, or to the
city of which it was the pride, once renowned as the metropolis of
Galilee.”

The following account is from the pen of the celebrated French
traveller, M. La Martine:—“A great number of blocks of stone, hollowed
out for tombs, traced our route to the summit of the mamelon, on which
Saphora is situated. Arrived at the top, we beheld an insulated column
of granite still standing, and marking the site of a temple. Beautiful
sculptured capitals were lying on the ground at the foot of the column,
and immense fragments of hewn stone, removed from some great Roman
monument, were scattered everywhere round, serving the Arabs as
boundaries to their property, and extending as far as a mile from
Saphora, where we stopped to halt in the middle of the day.”

This is all that now remains of this once noble city.

“A fountain of excellent and inexhaustible water,” continues La Martine,
“flows herefrom, for the use of the inhabitants of two or three valleys;
it is surrounded by some orchards of fig and pomegranate trees, under
the shade of which we seated ourselves; and waited more than an hour
before we could water our caravan, so numerous were the herds of cows
and camels which the Arabian shepherds brought from all parts of the
valley. Innumerable files of cattle and black goats wound across the
plain and the sides of the hill leading to Nazareth[205].”

NO. XXVI.—SARDIS.

Sardis is thus alluded to in the Apocalypse[206]:—

“1. And unto the angel of the church in Sardis write:—These things
saith he that hath the seven spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know
thy works, that thou hast a name, that thou livest, and art dead.

“2. Be watchful and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready
to die; for I have not found thy works perfect before God.

“3. Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast
and repent. If therefore thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as a
thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee.

“4. Thou hast a few names even in Sardis, which have not defiled their
garments; and they shall walk with me in white; for they are worthy.”

Sardis was situated five hundred and forty stadia from Ephesus; viz.
seven miles and a half.

When this city was built is not, we believe, upon record. It was the
capital of Lydia, and situated on the banks of the Pactolus, at the foot
of Mount Tmolus; having the Cayster to the south, and Hermus to the
north.

During the reign of Atys, son of Gyges, the Cimmerians, being expelled
their own country by the Nomades of Scythia, passed over into Asia, and
possessed themselves of Sardis. Some time after this, Crœsus became king
of Lydia, and a war ensued between him and Cyrus the Great. At that
period no nation of Asia was more hardy, or more valiant, than the
Lydians. They fought principally on horseback, armed with long spears,
and were very expert in managing the horse. Sardis, according to
Herodotus, was taken by storm; according to Polyænus, by surprise. Cyrus
availed himself of a truce, which he had concluded with Crœsus, (the
richest of kings), to advance his forces, and making his approach by
night, took the city. Crœsus, still remaining in possession of the
citadel, expected the arrival of his Grecian succours: but Cyrus,
putting in irons the relatives and friends of those who defended the
citadel, showed them in that state to the besieged. At the same time he
informed them by a herald, that, if they would give up the place, he
would set their friends at liberty; but that, if they persevered in
their defence, he would put them to death. The besieged chose rather to
surrender, than cause their relations to perish. Such is the relation of
Polyænus.

The Persians obtained possession of Sardis, and made Crœsus captive,
after a siege of fourteen days, and a reign of fourteen years. Thus was
a mighty empire destroyed in a few days. Crœsus being brought into the
presence of Cyrus, that prince ordered him to be placed in chains upon
the summit of a huge wooden pile, with fourteen Lydian youths standing
round him. Before this, however, Cyrus gave the citizens to understand,
that if they would bring to him and his army all their silver and gold,
their city should be spared. On learning this, they brought to him all
their wealth; but Crœsus was ordered to be burned alive. Before we give
an account of this barbarous order, however, we must refer to a
circumstance which had occurred several years before.

Solon, one of the most celebrated of legislators, having established a
new system of laws at Athens, thought to improve his knowledge by
travel. He went, therefore, to Sardis. The king received him very
sumptuously;—dressed in magnificent apparel, enriched with gold, and
glittering with diamonds. Finding that the Grecian sage did not appear
in any way moved by this display, Crœsus ordered, that all his
treasures, royal apartments, and costly furniture, should be shown to
him. When Solon had been shown all these, he was taken back to the king,
who then inquired of him:—Which of all the persons he had seen during
his travels, he esteemed the most happy? “A person named Tellus,”
answered Solon, “a citizen of Athens; an honest and good man; one who
had lived all his days without indigence, and always seen his country
flourishing and happy; who had children that were universally esteemed;
and whose children he had the satisfaction, also, of seeing, and who
died at last gloriously fighting for his country.”

When Crœsus heard this, thinking that if he were not esteemed the first
in happiness, he would at least be thought the second, he inquired “Who,
of all you have seen, was the next in happiness to Tellus?” “Cleobis and
Biton of Argos,” answered Solon, “two brothers who left behind them a
perfect pattern of fraternal affection, and of the respect due from
children to their parents. Upon a solemn festival when their mother, a
priestess of Juno, was to go to the temple, the oxen that were to draw
her not being ready, the two sons put themselves to the yoke, and drew
their mother’s chariot thither, which was above five miles distant. All
the mothers, ravished with admiration, congratulated the priestess on
the piety of her sons. She, in the transport of her joy and
thankfulness, earnestly entreated the goddess to reward her children
with the best thing that heaven can give to man. Her prayers were heard.
When the sacrifice was over, her two sons fell asleep in the very temple
to which they had brought her, and there died in a soft and peaceful
slumber. In honour of their piety,” concluded Solon, “the people of
Argos consecrated statues to them in the temple of Delphos.”

Crœsus was greatly mortified at this answer; and therefore said with
some token of discontent, “Then you do not reckon me in the number of
the happy at all?” “King of Lydia,” answered Solon, “besides many other
advantages, the gods have given to us Grecians a spirit of moderation
and reserve, which has produced among us a plain, popular, kind of
philosophy, accompanied with a certain generous freedom, void of pride
and ostentation, and therefore not well suited to the courts of kings.
This philosophy, considering what an infinite number of vicissitudes and
accidents the life of man is liable to, does not allow us to glory in
any prospects we enjoy ourselves, or to admire happiness in others which
may prove only superficial and transient.”

Having said this much, Solon paused a little,—then proceeded to say,
that “the life of man seldom exceeds seventy years, which make up in all
twenty-five thousand five hundred and fifty days, of which two are not
exactly alike; so that the time to come is nothing but a series of
various accidents, which cannot be foreseen. Therefore, in our opinion,”
continued Solon, “no man can be esteemed happy, but he whose happiness
God continues to the end of his life. As for others, who are perpetually
exposed to a thousand dangers, we account their happiness as uncertain,
as the crown is to a person that is still engaged in battle, and has not
yet obtained the victory.”

It was not long before Crœsus experienced the truth of what Solon told
him. Cyrus made war upon him, as we have already related: and he was now
condemned to be burned. The funeral pile was prepared, and the unhappy
king being laid thereon, and just on the point of execution,
recollecting the conversation he had had with Solon some few years
before, he cried aloud three times, “Solon! Solon! Solon!” When Cyrus
heard him exclaim thus, he became curious to know why Crœsus pronounced
that celebrated sage’s name with so much earnestness in the extremity to
which he was reduced. Crœsus informed him. The conqueror instantly
paused in the punishment designed; and, reflecting on the uncertain
state to which all sublunary things are subject, he caused him to be
taken from the pile, and ever afterwards treated him with honour and
respect. This account is from Rollin, who has it from Herodotus and
other ancient writers.

Crœsus is honourably mentioned by Pindar, in his celebrated contrast
between a good sovereign and a bad one:—

   When in the mouldering urn the monarch lies,
     His fame in lively characters remains,
   Or graved in monumental histories,
     Or deck’d and painted in Aonian strains.
   Thus fresh and fragrant and immortal blooms
     The virtue, Crœsus, of thy gentle mind;
   While fate to infamy and hatred dooms
     Sicilia’s tyrant[207], scorn of human kind;
   Whose ruthless bosom swelled with cruel pride,
   When in his brazen bull the broiling wretches died.
   Him, therefore, not in sweet society,
     The generous youth, conversing, ever name;
   Nor with the harp’s delightful melody
     Mingle his odious, inharmonious fame.
   The first, the greatest, bliss on man conferred,
     Is in the acts of virtue to excel;
   The second to obtain their high reward,
     The soul-exalting praise of doing well.
   Who both these lots attains is bless’d indeed;
   Since fortune here below can give no higher meed.

   PINDAR. _Pyth._ i.—WEST.

On the division of the Persian monarchy into satrapies, Sardis became
the residence of the satrap who had the government of the sea-coast.

In the third year of the war arising from the revolt of the Ionians
against the Persian authority, the Ionians having collected all their
forces together, set sail for Ephesus, whence, leaving their ships, they
marched by land to Sardis. Finding that city in a defenceless state,
they made themselves masters of it; but the citadel, into which the
Persian governor Artaphernes had retired, they were not able to force.
Most of the houses were roofed with reeds. An Ionian soldier therefore
having, whether with intention or by accident was never ascertained, set
fire to a house, the flames flew from roof to roof, and the whole city
was entirely destroyed, almost in a moment. In this destruction the
Persians implicated the Athenians; for there were many Athenians among
the Ionians. When Darius, therefore, heard of the conflagration, he
immediately determined on making war upon Greece; and that he might
never forget the resolution, he appointed an officer to the duty of
crying out to him every night at supper,—“Sir, remember the Athenians.”
It is here, also, to be remembered, that the cause why the Persians
afterwards destroyed all the temples they came near in Greece, was in
consequence of the temple of Cybele, the tutelary deity of Sardis,
having been, at that period, reduced to ashes.

Xerxes, on his celebrated expedition, having arrived at Sardis, sent
heralds into Greece, demanding earth and water. He did not, however,
send either to Athens or Lacedæmon. His motive for enforcing his demand
to the other cities, was the expectation that they, who had before
refused earth and water to Darius, would, from the alarm at his
approach, send it now. In this, however, he was for the most part
mistaken. Xerxes wintered at this city.

Alexander having conquered the Persians at the battle of the Granicus,
marched towards Sardis. It was the bulwark of the Persian empire on the
side next the sea. The citizens surrendered; and, as a reward for so
doing, the king gave them their liberties, and permitted them to live
under their own laws. He gave orders, also, to the Sardians to erect a
temple to Olympian Jove.

After the death of Alexander, Seleucus, carrying on a war with
Lysimachus, took possession of Sardis, B. C. 283. In 214 B. C. Antiochus
the Great made himself master of the citadel and city. He kept
possession of it twenty-five years, and it became his favourite place of
retreat after having lost the battle of Magnesia. His taking it is thus
described by Polybius:—“An officer had observed, that vultures and
birds of prey gathered round the rock on which the citadel was placed,
about the offals and dead bodies, thrown into a hollow by the besieged;
and inferred that the wall standing on the edge of the precipice was
neglected, as secure from attack. He scaled it with a resolute party,
while Antiochus called off the attention both of his own army and of the
enemy by a feint, marching as if he intended to attack the Persian gate.
Two thousand soldiers rushed in at the gate opened for them, and took
their post at the theatre, when the town was plundered and burned.”

Attalus Philomater, one of the descendants of the Antiochus just
mentioned, bequeathed Sardis, with all his other possessions, to the
Roman people; and, three years after his death, it was in consequence
reduced to a Roman province.

Under the reign of Tiberius, Sardis was a very large city; but it was
almost wholly destroyed by an earthquake. The emperor, however, had
sufficient public virtue to order it to be rebuilt, and at a very great
expense. In this patronage of Sardis, he was imitated by Hadrian, who
was so great a benefactor, that he obtained the name of Neocorus. The
patron god was Jupiter, who was called by a name synonymous with
protector.

Sardis was one of the first towns that embraced the Christian religion,
having been converted by St. John; and some have thought that its first
bishop was Clement, the disciple of St. Paul.

In the time of Julian great efforts were made to restore the Pagan
worship, by erecting temporary altars at Sardis, where none had been
left, and repairing those temples of which vestiges remained.

A. D. 400, the city was plundered by the Goths, under Tribigildus and
Cairanas, officers in the Roman pay, who had revolted from the emperor
Arcadius.

A. D. 1304, the Turks, on an insurrection of the Tartars, were permitted
to occupy a portion of the Acropolis; but the Sardians, on the same
night, murdered them in their sleep.

The town is now called Sart or Serte. When Dr. Chandler visited it in
1774, he found the site of it “green and flowery.” Coming from the east,
he found on his left the ground-work of a theatre; of which still
remained some pieces of the vault, which supported the seats, and
completed the semicircle.

Going on, he passed remnants of massy buildings; marble piers sustaining
heavy fragments of arches of brick, and more indistinct ruins. These are
in the plain before the hill of the Acropolis. On the right hand, near
the road, was a portion of a large edifice, with a heap of ponderous
materials before and behind it. The walls also are standing of two
large, long, and lofty rooms, with a space between them, as of a
passage. This remnant, according to M. Peysonell, was the house of
Crœsus, once appropriated by the Sardians as a place of retirement for
superannuated citizens. The walls in this ruin have double arches
beneath, and consist chiefly of brick, with layers of stone: it is
called the Gerusia. The bricks are exceedingly fine and good, of various
sizes, some flat and broad. “We employed,” continues Dr. Chandler, “a
man to procure one entire, but the cement proved so very hard and
tenacious, it was next to impossible. Both Crœsus and Mausolus, neither
of whom could be accused of parsimony, had used this material in the
walls of their palaces. It was insensible of decay; and it is asserted,
if the walls were erected true to their perpendicular, would, without
violence, last for ever.”

Our traveller was then led toward the mountain; when, on a turning of
the road, he was struck with the view of a ruin of a temple, in a
retired situation beyond the Pactolus, and between Mount Tmolus and the
hill of the Acropolis. Five columns were standing, one without the
capital, and one with the capital awry, to the south. The architrave was
of two stones. A piece remains of one column, to the southward; the
other part, with the column which contributed to its support, has fallen
since the year 1699. One capital was then distorted, as was imagined, by
an earthquake; and over the entrance of the Naos was a vast stone, which
occasioned wonder by what art or power it could be raised. That
magnificent portal has since been destroyed; and in the heap lies that
huge and ponderous marble. The soil has accumulated round the ruin; and
the bases, with a moiety of each column, are concealed. This, in the
opinion of Dr. Chandler, is probably the Temple of Cybele; and which was
damaged in the conflagration of Sardis by the Milesians. It was of the
Ionic order, and had eight columns in front. The shafts are fluted, and
the capitals designed with exquisite taste and skill. “It is
impossible,” continues our traveller, “to behold without deep regret,
this imperfect remnant of so beautiful and so glorious an edifice!”

In allusion to this, Wheler, who visited Sart towards the latter part of
the seventeenth century, says:—“Now see how it fareth with this
miserable church, marked out by God; who, being reduced to a very
inconsiderable number, live by the sweat of their brows in digging and
planting the gardens of the Turks they live amongst and serve; having
neither church nor priest among them. Nor are the Turks themselves there
very considerable, either for number or riches; being only herdsmen to
cattle feeding on those spacious plains; dwelling in a few pitiful
earthen huts; having one mosque, perverted to that use from a Christian
church. Thus is that once glorious city of the rich king Crœsus now
reduced to a nest of worse than beggars. Their Pactolus hath long since
ceased to yield them gold,[208] and the treasures to recover them their
dying glories. Yet there are some remains of noble structures,
remembrances of their prosperous state, long since destroyed. For there
are the remains of an old castle, of a great church, palaces, and other
proud buildings, humbled to the earth.”

Several inscriptions have been found here; and, amongst these, one
recording the good will of the council and senate of Sardis towards the
emperor Antoninus Pius. Medals, too, have been found; amongst which,
two very rare ones; viz. one of the Empress Tranquillina, and another of
Caracalla, with an urn on the reverse, containing a branch of olives;
under which is an inscription, which translated, is, “_The sport
Chysanthina of the Sardians twice Nercorus_.” Another, stamped by the
common assembly of Asia there, in honour of Drusus and Germanicus. Also
one with the Emperor Commodus, seated in the midst of a zodiac, with
celestial signs engraved on it: on the reverse, “_Sardis, the first
metropolis of Asia, Greece, Lydia_.”[209]

NO. XXVII.—SELEUCIA.

There were no less than thirteen cities, which were called Seleucia, and
which received their name from Seleucus Nicanor. These were situated in
Syria, in Cilicia, and near the Euphrates.

“It must be acknowledged,” says Dr. Prideaux, “that there is mention
made of Babylon, as of a city standing long after the time I have placed
its dissolution, as in Lucan[210], Philostratus[211], and others. But in
all those authors, and wherever also we find Babylon mentioned as a city
in being, after the time of Seleucus Nicanor, it must be understood, not
of old Babylon, on the Euphrates, but of Seleucia, on the Tigris. For as
that succeeded to the dignity and grandeur of old Babylon, so also did
it in its name.”

“Since the days of Alexander,” says Sir R. Porter, “we find four
capitals, at least, built out of the remains of Babylon; Seleucia by the
Greeks; Ctesiphon by the Parthians; Al Maidan by the Persians; Kufa by
the Caliphs; with towns, villages, and caravanserais, without number.
That the fragments of one city should travel so far, to build or repair
the breaches of another, appeared, on the first view of the subject, to
be unlikely to myself; but, on traversing the country between the
approximating shores of the two rivers, and observing all the facilities
of water-carriage from one side to the other, I could no longer be
incredulous of what had been told me; particularly when scarce a day
passed without my seeing people digging the mounds of Babylon for
bricks, which they carried to the verge of the Euphrates, and thence
conveyed in boats to wherever they might be wanted.”

Seleucus built many cities; of which far the greater part was raised
from superstitious motives; many were peopled from the ruins of places
in their neighbourhood, whose sites were equally convenient; and only a
very few were erected in conformity with those great military and
commercial views, by which, in this particular, his master (Alexander)
had uniformly been guided. He named nine after himself; and four in
honour of four of his wives; three Apameas; and one Stratonice; in all
thirty-five. Sixteen were named Antioch; five Laodicea, after his
mother. Many foundations were laid of other cities. Some, after
favourite scenes in Greece or Macedon; some in memory of glorious
exploits; and not a few after his master Alexander.

This Seleucia was built of the ruins of Babylon; and Pliny, the
naturalist, gives the following account:—“Seleucia was built by
Seleucus Nicanor, forty miles from Babylon, at a point of the confluence
of the Euphrates with the Tigris, by a canal. There were 600,000
citizens here at one time; and all the commerce and wealth of Babylon
had flowed into it. The territory in which it stood was called
Babylonia; but it was itself a free state, and the people lived after
the laws and manners of the Macedonians. The form of the walls
resembled an eagle spreading her wings.”

In a country, destitute of wood and stone, whose edifices were hastily
erected with bricks baked in the sun, and cemented with the native
bitumen, Seleucia speedily eclipsed the ancient capital of the East.

Many ages after the fall of the Macedonian empire, Seleucia retained the
genuine character of a Greek colony; arts, military virtue, and a love
of freedom: and while the republic remained independent, it was governed
by a senate consisting of three hundred nobles. The walls were strong;
and as long as concord prevailed among the several orders of the state,
the power of the Parthians was regarded with indifference, if not with
contempt. The madness of faction, however, was sometimes so great, that
the common enemy was occasionally implored; and the Parthians[212] were,
in consequence, beheld at the gates, to assist sometimes one party, and
sometimes the other. Ctesiphon was then but a village[213], on the
opposite side of the Tigris, in which the Parthian kings were
accustomed to reside during the winter, on account of the mildness of
the climate. The summer they passed at Ecbatana.

Trajan left Rome A. D. 112, and after subduing several cities in the
East, laid siege to Seleucia and Ctesiphon. Chosroes, the king, being
absent quelling a revolt in some part of his more eastern dominions,
these cities soon surrendered to the Roman hero, and all the
neighbouring country. “The degenerate Parthians,” says the Roman
historian, “broken by internal discord, fled before his arms. He
descended the Tigris in triumph from the mountains of Armenia to the
Persian gulf. He enjoyed the honour of being the first, as he was the
last, of the Roman generals who ever navigated that remote sea.” At his
death, which occurred soon after his return to Rome, most of the cities
of Asia, that he had conquered, threw off the Roman yoke; and among
these were Seleucia and Ctesiphon.

Under the reign of Marcus, A. D. 165, the Roman generals penetrated as
far as these celebrated cities. They were received as friends by the
Greek colony; they attacked, as enemies, the seat of the Parthian kings;
and yet both experienced the same treatment. Seleucia was sacked by the
friends they had invited—though it has been alleged in their favour,
that the citizens of Seleucia had first violated their faith.

More than 300,000 of the inhabitants were put to the sword; and the city
itself nearly destroyed by conflagration.

Seleucia never recovered this blow: but Ctesiphon, in about thirty-three
years, had sufficiently recovered its strength to maintain an obstinate
siege against the emperor Severus. It was at last, nevertheless, taken
by assault; and the king, who defended it in person, escaped with
precipitation. The Romans netted a rich booty, and took captive 100,000
persons[214].

“Below Bagdad,” says a celebrated French writer, on geography,
(Malte-Brun), “the ruins of Al-Modain, or the two cities, have attracted
the attention of every traveller. One of them is unquestionably the
ancient Ctesiphon; but the other, which lies on the western bank of the
Tigris, is not Seleucia, as all the travellers affirm[215]: it is
Kochos, a fortress situated opposite to Seleucia, and which, according
to the positive testimony of Arrian and Gregory of Nazianzus, was
different from Seleucia[216].” In this account Malte-Brun appears to us
to be exceedingly mistaken[217].

Of the ruins of SELEUCIA, near ANTIOCH, Mr. Robinson speaks
thus:—“Being desirous of visiting the ruins of the ancient Seleucia
Pieriæ, I rode over to the village of Kepse, occupying the site of the
ancient city. We were apprised of our approach to it, by seeing a number
of sepulchral grots excavated in the rock by the road-side, at present
tenanted by shepherds and their flocks. Some were arched like those I
had seen at Delphi; others were larger, with apartments, one within the
other. We entered the inclosure of the ancient city by the gate at the
south-east side; probably the one that led to Antioch. It is defended by
round towers, at present in ruins. Of the magnificent temples and
buildings mentioned by Polybius, some remains of pillars are alone
standing to gratify the curiosity of the antiquarian traveller. But
recollecting, as I sat alone on a stone seat at the jetty head, that it
was from hence Paul and Barnabas, the harbingers of Christianity to the
West, when sent forth from the church at Antioch, embarked for Cyprus;
the place all at once assumed an interest that heathen relics were
little calculated to inspire. It came opportunely, also, for I felt
particularly depressed at the sight of a large maritime city, once
echoing with the voices of thousands, now without an inhabitant; a port
formerly containing rich laden galleys, at present choked up with reeds;
and finally, a quay, on which for centuries anxious mariners paced up
and down throughout the day, at this moment without a living creature
moving on its weather-beaten surface but myself.”

NO. XXVIII.—SELINUS, OR SELINUNTUM.

This city was founded A. U. C. 127, by a colony from Megara. It received
its name from a Greek word meaning parsley, which grew there in great
profusion; and its ancient consequence may be learned from the ruins now
remaining. It was destroyed by Hannibal. The conduct of the war having
been committed to that general, he set sail with a very large fleet and
army. He landed at a place called the Well of Lilybæum, which gave its
name to a city afterwards built on the same spot.

His first enterprise was the siege of Selinuntum. The attack and defence
were equally vigorous; the very women showing a resolution and bravery
beyond their sex. The city, after making a long resistance, was taken by
storm, and the plunder of it abandoned to the soldiers. The victor
exercised the most horrid cruelties, without showing the least regard to
age or sex. He permitted, however, such inhabitants as had fled to
continue in the city after it had been dismantled, and to till the
lands, on condition of their paying a tribute to the Carthaginians. The
city had then been built 242 years. It became afterwards an important
place; but from the manner in which the columns and other fragments of
three stupendous temples lie, it is quite evident they must have been
thrown down by an earthquake; but the date of that calamity is not
known.

The ruins of Selinus are thus described by Mr. Swinburne:—“They lie in
several stupendous heaps, with many columns still erect, and at a
distance resemble a large town with a crowd of steeples. On the top of
the hill is a very extensive level, seven miles off, on which lie the
scattered members of three Doric temples, thirty yards asunder, in a
direct line from north to south. The most northerly temple, which was
pseudodipterous, exceeded the others very much in dimensions and
majesty, and now composes one of the most gigantic and sublime ruins
imaginable. They all lie in great confusion and disorder.

“The second temple is easily described. It had six columns in the front,
and eleven on each side; in all thirty-four. Their diameter is five
feet; they were all fluted; and most of them now remain standing as high
as the second course of stones. The pillars of the third temple were
also fluted, and have fallen down so very entire, that the five pieces
which composed them lie almost close to each other, in the order they
were placed in when upright. These temples are all of the Doric order,
without a base.

“The two lesser ones are more delicate in their parts and ornaments than
the principal ruins; the stone of which they are composed is smooth and
yellowish, and brought from the quarries of Castel-Franco. There are
other ruins and broken columns dispersed over the site of the city, but
none equal to these.” Such is the account given by Mr. Swinburne; what
follows first appeared in the Penny Magazine.

On the southern coast of Sicily, about ten miles to the east of Cape
Granitola, and between the little rivers of Maduini and Bilici, (the
Crimisus and Hypsa of ancient times,) a tremendous mass of ruins
presents itself in the midst of a solitary and desolate country. These
are the sad remains of the once splendid city of Selinus, or Selinuntum,
which was founded by a Greek colony from Megara, more than two thousand
four hundred years ago. When seen at a distance from the sea, they still
look like a mighty city; but on a near approach nothing is seen but a
confused heap of fallen edifices—a mixture of broken shafts, capitals,
entablatures, and metopæ, with a few truncated columns erect among them.
They seem to consist chiefly of the remains of three temples of the
Doric order. One of these temples was naturally devoted by a maritime
and trading people to Neptune; a second was dedicated to Castor and
Pollux, the friends of navigation and the scourge of pirates; the
destination of the third temple is uncertain.

The size of the columns and the masses of stone that lie heaped about
them is prodigious. The lower circumference of the columns is thirty-one
feet and a half; many of the stone blocks measure twenty-five feet in
length, eight in height, and six in thickness. Twelve of the columns
have fallen with singular regularity, the disjointed shaft-pieces of
each lying in a straight line with the base from which they fell, and
having their several capitals at the other end of the line. If
architects and antiquaries have not been mistaken in their task of
measuring among heaps of ruins that in good part cover and conceal the
exterior lines, the largest of the three temples was three hundred and
thirty-four feet long, and one hundred and fifty-four feet wide.

These are prodigious and unusual dimensions for ancient edifices of this
kind. That wonder of the whole world, the Temple of Diana at Ephesus,
itself did not much exceed these admeasurements. The great Selinuntian
temple seems to have had porticoes of four columns in depth, and eight
in width, with a double row of sixteen columns on the lateral sides of
the cella. It is somewhat singular, from having had all the columns of
the first row on the east front fluted, while all the rest of the
columns were quite plain. One of these fluted columns is erect and
tolerably entire, with the exception of its capital. The fluting,
moreover, is not in the Doric style; for each flute is separated by a
fillet. The material of which this and the other edifices were formed,
is a species of fine-grained petrifaction, hard, and very sonorous on
being struck with a hammer. It was hewn out of quarries near at hand, at
a place called Campo Bello, where many masses, only partially separated
from the rock, and looking as if the excavation had been suddenly
interrupted, are still seen.

A flight of ancient steps, in tolerable preservation, leads from the
Marinella to the Acropolis, where the covert-ways, gates, and walls,
built of large squared stones, may still be traced all round the hill. A
little to the west of the Acropolis is the small pestiferous lake,
Yhalici, partly choked up with sand. In ancient times this was called
_Stagnum Gonusa_, and it is said the great philosopher Empedocles
purified it and made the air around it wholesome, by clearing a mouth
towards the sea, and conveying a good stream of water through it. The
Fountain of Diana, at a short distance, which supplied this stream,
still pours forth a copious volume of excellent water; but it is allowed
to run and stagnate over the plain, and now adds to the _malaria_
created by the stagnant lake. The surrounding country is wholly
uncultivated, and, where not a morass, is covered with underwood, dwarf
palms, and myrtle-bushes of a prodigious growth.

For six months in the year, Selinunte is a most unhealthy place; and
though the stranger may visit it by day-time without much danger of
catching the infection, it seems scarcely possible to sleep there in
summer and escape the malaria fever in one of its worst forms. Of four
English artists who tried the experiment in 1822, not one escaped; and
Mr. Harris, a young architect of great promise, died in Sicily from the
consequences. These gentlemen made a discovery of some importance. They
dug up near one of the temples some sculptured metopæ with figures in
rilievo, of a singular primitive style, which seems to have more
affinity with the Egyptian or the Etruscan, than with the Greek style of
a later age. There are probably few Greek fragments of so ancient a date
in so perfect a state of preservation.

The government claimed these treasures, and caused them to be
transported to Palermo; but Mr. Samuel Angel, an architect, and one of
the party, took casts from them, which may now be seen at the British
Museum; and of which we present the reader with an account, drawn up, we
believe, by a gentleman named Hamilton.—“Within a temporary building
opening from the fifth room, are the casts from the marble metopæ of the
great temple of Jupiter Olympius, at Selinus, in Sicily. Valuable as
they are, as belonging to a school of art prior to that of Ægina, and
probably of a date coeval with the earliest Egyptian, a short notice of
them may not be unacceptable, as no account of them is to be found in
the Synopsis, although to the public in general subjects of great
curiosity and inquiry. The legend which they tell and their appearance,
are altogether as unaccountable as mysterious. At Selinus, in Sicily,
there are the remains of six temples of the earliest Doric, within a
short distance of each other, and it was during the researches into the
ruins of the largest, called the Western, and the one farthest from it,
named the Eastern, by Messrs. Harris and Angell, in 1832, that these
ancient sculptures were found: among them there were no single and
perfect statues as in the temple of Ægina, which probably arose from the
neighbourhood being well peopled, and they had no doubt been repeatedly
ransacked. These temples may be reckoned among the largest of antiquity,
being equal in their dimensions to those at Agrigentum, in the fluting
of whose columns there is sufficient space for a man to stand.
Immediately after the discovery, application was made to the Neapolitan
Government to allow them to be shipped for England; but permission was
refused, and they are now in the Royal Gallery at Palermo. Casts were,
however, allowed to be taken, and they are these we now describe.

“They are probably of as early a date as any that have reached our
times, and are of different styles of art; those which belonged to the
temple called Eastern, whence the sculpture of the head of the dying
warrior, and the chariot drawn by horses, were taken, possess much of
the Æginitan character; those of the Western are of a ruder age. In most
of the figures the anatomy resembles that of the earliest coins, but
differs in many respects from the Greek sculptures; and there is a short
and full character in the faces approaching the Egyptian. From the short
proportions, the fleshy part of the thigh overcharged, and the peculiar
manner in which the hair is arranged, they might be taken for specimens
of Æginitan art; but on a close inspection it will be found, that they
are the work of artists educated on different principles. At a much
later period it is known that the artists of Ægina were employed by the
kings of Sicily; and these, therefore, are not unlikely to have been the
work of Carthaginian sculptors brought to decorate a city in alliance
and newly founded, which will account for the Egyptian character given
to the whole.

“The cast, which consists of the body and head of a dying soldier, a
part of a female figure behind, formed the third metope of the Eastern
Temple, and is a most valuable and curious fragment, and determines the
style and character of the sculpture of the temple. It bears a marked
resemblance to some of the heads in the Ægina marbles, but it has much
more expression; the artist has evidently intended to mark the agonies
of death, by the closed eyes, the mouth slightly opened, and the tongue
appearing between the teeth; the hair and beard are most carefully and
symmetrically arranged and most elaborately finished; the helmet is
thrown back, and is of the kind called ‘γεῖσον’—part of the crest
‘λόφος’ is visible under the left shoulder of the figure. The fragment
of the female is very spirited, and evidently in strong action. Those
metopes, like those of the Parthenon, are in high relief, and in some
parts detached. Thorwaldsen has pronounced them equal in execution to
the Ægina. The next, which consists of three figures, one of which has a
horse under the arm, is particularly interesting, from the illustration
it presents of the death of the Gorgon Medusa. Perseus, emboldened by
the presence of Minerva, is represented in the act of slaying Medusa;
his eyes are averted from the object of his honour, while his right arm,
guided by the goddess, thrusts his sword into the throat of the monster.
Pegasus, a winged foal, springs from her blood, and Medusa presses him
to her side with apparent solicitude. The monstrous face of the Gorgon
is finely represented; the large round head and hideous face rise from
the shoulders without the intervention of a neck; all the features are
frightfully distorted, the nose is flat and spreading, and the mouth is
nearly the whole width of the face, and is armed on each side with two
immense tusks; the hair over the forehead is curiously shown, and almost
appears to have represented the serpents to which it was changed. The
figure of Minerva on the right is draped with the ‘πέπλον,’ and has the
Mæander ornament on the edge. The figure of Perseus is in the centre; he
is armed with the harp of Mercury and the helmet of Pluto, which latter
has a pendant falling on each side; the ‘πτηνὰ πέδιλα,’ or _talaria_,
are represented as covering the feet entirely, and bear some resemblance
to the ancient greaves; the front part is attached to the ancle by
thongs. The form of the young Pegasus is exceedingly beautiful; he seems
bounding from the earth. The metope, containing the figure bearing two
others on its shoulders, represents the adventure of Hercules, surnamed
Melampyges, from the black and hairy appearance of his loins. The story
is as follows:—Passalus and Achemon, two brothers, reviled their mother,
who warned them to beware of a man whose loins were covered with black
hair. They attempted to rob Hercules while asleep, and from that had the
name of Cercopes; in the attempt they failed and awoke him, and he bound
them hand and foot to his bow, with their heads downwards, and carried
them in that manner. They began laughing on the accomplishment of their
mother’s prophecy; Hercules asked them why they laughed, and on their
telling him the reason, he also laughed and liberated them. The figure
of the god is represented as strong and muscular, and the two prisoners
have a very ludicrous appearance; in the reversed position, the hair
falls in a curious manner; the whole group has been painted in various
colours, and in the countenances much of Egyptian expression is to be
observed. The horses which draw the chariot formed part of the centre
metope of the Eastern Temple; it is very imperfect, and is supposed to
represent the celebration of the race of Pelops and Œnomus; they are
drawn full of fire and courage, and are finely fore-shortened; they have
the cropped ears and manes which are observable in those of the
Parthenon.

“These sculptures are valuable as specimens of the third period of the
art, the earliest of which is probably the Hindoo; the great resemblance
both these and the Egyptian bear to that style is remarkable, and gives
warrant to suppose that it was the original school. Of Hebrew sculpture
there are no remains; the command to form no graven images prevented the
art attaining the perfection which it reached in the neighbouring
country of Syria, and would seem to confirm the account, that within the
land of Judea no statue bearing marks of great antiquity has been
discovered. The Egyptian, the Etruscan, the Selinuntine, and the Ægina
schools, furnished the models for the Grecian; and the careful observer
has it in his power, within the walls of the Museum, to trace, step by
step, the progress of the art; till it attained its meridian splendour
in the production of those sculptures, whose dilapidated remains are
there preserved, and which the accumulated knowledge, genius, labour,
and talent of two thousand five hundred years has never yet been able to
surpass[218].”

The neighbouring country is interesting, as having been the scene of
many of the memorable events recorded by the ancient historians. A few
miles to the west of the ruins, on the banks of a little river, that
now, unless when swelled by the winter torrents, creeps gently into the
sea, was fought, amidst thunder, lightning, and rain, one of the most
celebrated battles of ancient times, in which the “Immortal Timoleon,”
the liberator of Corinth, and the saviour of Syracuse, gained a glorious
victory over the Carthaginian invaders. The events are preserved in
popular traditions; and the names of Mago, Hamilcar, Hannibal,
Agathocles, Dionysius, and Timoleon, are common in the mouths of the
country people, though not unfrequently confused with one another, and
subjected to the same laughable mutilation as the name of Castor and
Selinute[219].

NO. XXIX.—SICYON.

The most ancient kingdom of Greece was that of Sicyon, the beginning of
which is placed by Eusebius 1313 years before the first Olympiad. Its
duration is believed to have been about a thousand years; during which
period it is said to have had a succession of kings, whose reigns were
so equitable that nothing of importance is recorded of them. It sent,
however, 3000 troops to the battle of Platea, and fifteen ships to that
of Salamis. It is now only a village.

Of these monarchs the most remarkable was Sicyon, who is supposed to
have built, though some say he only enlarged, the metropolis of his
kingdom, and to have called it by his own name.

It became very powerful in the time of the Achaian league, which it
joined, at the persuasion of Aratus, A. C. 251. It was destroyed by
Demetrius, son of Antigonus, who afterwards rebuilt it, and endeavoured
to impose upon it the name of Demetrius; but it soon sunk under its
ancient and more memorable appellation.

Sicyon was in great reputation for the arts, and painting in particular;
the true taste for which was preserved there in all its ancient purity.
It is even said, that Apelles, who was then admired by all the world,
had been at Sicyon, where he frequented the schools of two painters, to
whom he gave a talent; not for acquiring a perfection of the art from
them, but in order to obtain a share in their great reputation. When
Aratus had reinstated his city in its former liberties, he destroyed all
the pictures of the tyrants; but when he came to that of Aristratus, who
reigned in the time of Philip, and whom the painter had represented in
the attitude of standing in a triumphant chariot, he hesitated a long
time whether he should deface it or not; for all the capital disciples
of Melanthus had contributed to the completion of that piece; and it had
even been touched by the pencil of Apelles. This work was so inimitable
in its kind, that Aratus was enchanted with its beauties; but his
aversion to tyrants prevailed over his admiration of the picture, and he
accordingly ordered it to be destroyed.

In the time of Pausanias, Sicyon was destroyed by an earthquake. It was,
nevertheless, not long after, not only one of the noblest cities of
Greece, on account of its magnificent edifices, many of which were built
of marble, and ingenious workmen, but it was a distinguished place when
the Venetians were masters of the Morea. The period, however, when it
fell from that eminence is unknown.

Sicyon[220] was the school of the most celebrated artists of antiquity,
and was sumptuously decorated with temples and statues. Pausanias
enumerates seventeen temples, a stadium, a theatre, two gymnasia, an
agora, a senate-house, and a temenos for the Roman emperors, with many
altars, monuments, and numerous statues of ivory and gold, of marble, of
bronze, and of wood.

Its present condition, in respect to population, may be, in a great
measure, attributed to its having, about twenty years before Sir George
Wheler visited it, been afflicted by the plague. “This final
destruction,” said one of the inhabitants, “is a judgment of God upon
the Turks for turning one of the Christian churches into a mosque. The
Vaywode fell down dead upon the place, the first time he caused the
Koran to be read in it. This was followed by a plague, which, in a short
time, utterly destroyed the whole town; and it could never afterwards be
repeopled.”

So little is known[221] concerning this ancient seat of Grecian power,
that it is not possible to ascertain in what period it dwindled from its
pre-eminence to become, what it is now, one of the most wretched
villages of the Peloponnesus. The remains of its former magnificence
are, however, still considerable, and in some instances they exist in
such a state of preservation, that it is evident the buildings of the
city either survived the earthquakes said to have overwhelmed them, or
they must have been constructed at some later period.

“The ruins of Sicyon,” says Mr. Dodwell, “still retain some vestiges of
ancient magnificence. Among these a fine theatre, situate at the
north-east foot of the Acropolis; having seats in a perfect state. Near
it are some large masses of Roman brick walls, and the remains of the
gymnasium, supported by strong walls of polygonal construction. There
are several dilapidated churches which, composed of ancient fragments,
are supposed to occupy the site of the temples. Several fragments of the
Doric order are observable among them; also several inscriptions.”

“In respect to the temple of Bacchus,” says Dr. Clarke, “we can be at no
loss for its name, although nothing but the ground-plot now remains. It
is distinctly stated by Pausanias to have been the temple of Bacchus,
which was placed beyond the theatre to a person coming from the citadel,
and to this temple were made those annual processions which took place
at night, and by the light of the torches, when the Sicyonians brought
hither the mystic images, called Bacchus and Lysius, chanting their
ancient hymns.”

The theatre is almost in its entire state; and although the notes were
made upon the spot, did not enable Dr. Clarke to afford a description of
its form and dimensions equally copious with that already given of the
famous theatre of Polycletus in Eidausia; yet this of Sicyon may be
considered as surpassing every other in Greece, in the harmony of its
proportions, the costliness of the workmanship, the grandeur of the
coilon, and the stupendous nature of the prospect presented to all those
who were seated upon its benches. If it were cleared of the rubbish
about it, and laid open to view, it would afford an astonishing idea of
the magnificence of a city, whose treasures were so great, that its
inhabitants ranked amongst the most voluptuous and effeminate people of
all Greece. The stone-work is entirely of that massive kind, which
denotes a very high degree of antiquity.

The stadium[222] is on the right hand of a person facing the theatre,
and it is undoubtedly the oldest work remaining of all that belonged to
the ancient city. The walls exactly resemble those of Mycenæ and Tiryns;
we may, therefore, class it among the examples of the Cyclopean masonry.
It is, in other respects, the most remarkable structure of the kind
existing; combining at once a natural and artificial character. The
persons by whom it was formed, finding that the mountain whereon the
coilon of the theatre has been constructed, would not allow a sufficient
space for another oblong cavea of the length requisite to complete a
stadium, built upon an artificial rampart reaching out into the plain,
from the mountain toward the sea; so that this front-work resembles half
a stadium thrust into the semicircular cavity of a theatre; the
entrance to the area, included between both, being formed with great
taste and effect at the two sides or extremities of the semicircle. The
ancient masonry appears in the front-work so placed. The length of the
whole area equals two hundred and sixty-seven paces; the width of the
advanced bastion thirty-six paces; and its height twenty-two feet six
inches.

Besides these there are some few other antiquities, but of too minute a
kind to merit description.

Even her ruins[223] speak less emphatically of the melancholy fate of
Greece than her extensive solitudes. Oppression has degraded her
children, and broken her spirit. Hence those prodigious plains, which
God hath given for their good, are neglected; hence, too, the beauteous
seas are without a sail; the lands of ancient Sicyon so thinly peopled!

   ’Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
   So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
   We start—for soul is wanting there!
   Hers is the loveliness in death,
   That parts not quite with parting breath;
   But beauty with that fearful bloom,
   That hue which haunts it to the tomb—
   Expression’s last receding ray,
   A gilded halo, hovering round decay,
   The farewell beam of feeling past away;
   Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth,
   Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth![224]

NO. XXX.—SIDON.

Phœnicia comprised Sidon, Tyre, Ptolemais, and Berytus. Its mountains
were Libanus and Anti-Libanus. Its most ancient city was Sidon; which
was an opulent city even at so early a period as that in which the
Greeks are said to have lived upon acorns. It is situated on the shores
of the Mediterranean, at a distance of about twenty miles from Tyre, and
fifty from Damascus.

Sidon is supposed to have been built by Canaan’s first-born, whose name
was Sidon[225]. It is, therefore, celebrated as the most ancient of the
cities of Phœnicia. It is frequently mentioned in holy writ. It is named
by Jacob[226], in his prophetic speech concerning the country which his
sons were to inhabit; and it is stated as a place for some of the kings
who were driven out by Joshua. Its remote origin, however, is perhaps
still uncertain, though Justin speaks of it in the following
manner:—“The nation of the Tyrians, descended from the Phœnicians,
being shaken by an earthquake, and having abandoned their country, did
first inhabit the Assyrian marsh; and, not long afterwards, the shore
next unto the sea, where they built a city, and called it Sidon, from
the abundance of fishes that were there: for the Phœnicians call a fish
_sidon_. After the process of many years, being overcome by king
Ascalon, they took shipping again, and built Tyre in the year before the
destruction of Troy.”

“I cannot help thinking,” says Mr. Drummond, “that the city, called
Tsidon by the Hebrews; Tsaid or Tsaida, by the Syrians; and Said or
Saida, by the Arabians; originally received its name from the language
of the last. The Tsidonians were celebrated for their skill in
metallurgy, and for the art with which they worked in gold, silver, and
brass. Much iron and brass existed in Phœnicia, and the possession of
this country having been once intended for the tribe of Ashur, Moses
said to that tribe, ‘under thy shoes shall be iron and brass:’ (Deut.
xxxiii. 25.): that is, the soil under thy feet shall abound with iron
and brass. Now I consider Sidon, or rather Saida, to have been so called
from its abounding with _saidi_ or _saidan_, viz. brass.”[227]

During the administration of Joshua, and afterwards, Sidon was governed
by kings. He calls it “Zidon the great.”[228] In the division of
Palestine it was allotted to Ashur; but this tribe could never get
possession of it.[229]

The inhabitants are said to have assisted Solomon, in his preparations
for the building of the temple; their skill in hewing timber being
superior to that of all other nations.[230]

That Sidon was celebrated for its women being skilled in embroidery, we
learn, in the first instance, from several passages in Scripture; and
secondly, from a curious passage in Homer:

   The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went,
   Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent.
   There lay the vestures of no vulgar art,
   Sidonian maids embroider’d every part,
   Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore,
   With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore.
   Here as the queen revolved with careful eyes
   The various textures and the various dyes,
   She chose a veil that shone superior far,
   And glow’d refulgent as the morning star.[231]

To the Sidonians, also, are attributed the inventions of glass,[232]
linen, and purple dye. They were also greatly celebrated for their
industry. They were highly commercial, and were famous for the many
voyages some of their fellow-citizens undertook. It was the most ancient
of maritime cities: illustrious for its wealth, for the sobriety and
industry of its inhabitants; for the wisdom of its councils, and for its
skill, not only in commerce and geography, but in astronomy.

The Sidonians were often engaged in war; but we can afford space only to
a few instances. The origin of that with Artaxerxes Ochus, is thus
related by Diodorus:[233]—“The king’s lieutenants and generals then in
Sidon, carrying themselves, by their severe edicts, rigorously and
haughtily towards the Sidonians, the citizens, being so abused, and not
being able longer to brook it, studied how to revolt from the Persians.
Upon which, the rest of the Phœnicians, being wrought upon by the others
to vindicate their liberty, sent messengers to Nectanetus, the king of
Egypt, then at war with the Persians, to receive them as confederates,
and so the whole nation (Phœnicia,) prepared for war. And being that
Sidon exceeded all the rest of the cities in wealth, and even private
men, by the advantage of trade, were grown very rich, they built a great
number of ships, and raised a potent army of mercenaries; and both arms,
and darts, and provisions, and all other things necessary for war were
prepared; and that they might appear first in the war, they spoiled and
ruined the king’s garden, cutting down all the trees, where the Persian
kings used to recreate and divert themselves. Then they burned all the
hay, which the lieutenants had laid up for the horses. At last they
seized upon the Persians, who had so insulted them, and led them to
punishment, and in this manner began the war of the Persians with the
Phœnicians.”

Ochus Artaxerxes acted in a manner so contrary to all the best notions
of government, that some historians have not hesitated to regard him as
the most cruel and wicked of all the princes of his race. Not only the
palace, but the empire was filled with his murderers. Several nations,
over whom he exercised sway, in consequence revolted. Amongst these,
Sidon and the other Phœnician cities. Ochus hearing of this, resolved to
go in person to reduce the rebels. He repaired to Phœnicia with an army
of 300,000 foot, and 30,000 horse. Mentor was at this time in Sidon with
some troops from Greece. He had come thither to assist the rebels. When
he learned how great a force the Persian king had, he was so alarmed,
that he sent secretly to the king to offer to deliver up Sidon. This
offer Ochus accepted; and the king of Sidon having come into the
treason, the city was surrendered into his hands.

When the Sidonians saw themselves betrayed, and that the enemy had got
entire possession of their city, they gave themselves up to despair,
shut themselves up in their houses, and set them on fire. In this manner
40,000 men, besides women and children, perished in the flames! At this
time, Sidon was so immensely rich, that the cinders, among which a vast
quantity of gold and silver had melted, were sold by the conqueror for a
large sum of money.

This judgment had been prophesied by Ezekiel[234].

“20. Again the word of the Lord came unto me, saying,

“21. Son of man, set thy face against Zidon, and prophesy against it.

“22. And say, Thus saith the Lord God; Behold I am against thee, O
Zidon; and I will be glorified in the midst of thee: and they shall know
that I am the Lord, when I shall have executed judgments in her, and
shall be sanctified in her.

“23. For I will send into her pestilence, and blood into her streets;
and the wounded shall be judged in the midst of her by the sword upon
her on every side; and they shall know that I am the Lord.”

Eighteen years after this misfortune, Alexander of Macedon marched into
Phœnicia. All submitted to him as he advanced; nor did any people do
this with greater alacrity than the Sidonians: who, having suffered so
largely from the Persian king, held the Persians in very great
detestation. Strato, their king, however, having declared for Darius,
Alexander desired Hephæstion to place in his stead any one of the
Sidonians that he should judge worthy of so exalted a station. Being
quartered at the house of two brothers, of whom he had reason to
entertain the highest opinion, Hephæstion offered the crown to them; but
these brothers had the virtue to refuse it, telling him, that, by the
laws of the country, no one could ascend the throne but those who were
of the blood-royal. Hephæstion, greatly moved at seeing the greatness of
those who could refuse what so many others had striven to obtain by fire
and sword, expressed his admiration of their magnanimity; and desired
them to name any person of the royal family who would, on being placed
upon the throne, remember who it was that put him there. On this the
brothers answered, that they knew of no one more worthy of a diadem
than a person, named Abdolonymus. He was, they said, of the royal
family, though at a great distance from the succession; but so poor that
he was compelled to earn his bread by working in one of the gardens
outside the city. He was not only poor, they continued, but of so
contented a spirit, of so exalted a mind, and of such deep engagement of
purpose, that the wars, which were then shaking Asia, were altogether
unknown to him.

The two brothers immediately repaired to the place where they knew this
person was to be found. They took royal garments with them; and after no
great search found him employed in weeding his garden. They immediately
saluted him as King of Sidon. “You must change your tatters,” said one
of the brothers, “for the royal garments we have brought with us. Put
off that mean and contemptible habit, in which you have grown old.
Assume the style and sentiments of a prince. When, however, you are
seated on the throne, continue to preserve the virtues which have made
you worthy of it.” When Abdolonymus heard this, he was amazed. He looked
upon the whole as a dream. When, however, he perceived that the two
brothers were standing before him in actual presence, he inquired of
them if they did not feel some shame in ridiculing him in that manner?
They replied, that no ridicule was intended; but that all was in the
spirit of honour. They threw over his shoulders a purple raiment, richly
embroidered with gold; repeated to him oaths of earnestness, and led him
to the palace.

The news of this astonishing circumstance soon spread over the whole
city. Most of the richer sort were indignant. Alexander, however,
commanded that the newly elected prince should be brought into his
presence. When he was presented, Alexander measured him with his eye
from head to foot, and gazed upon his countenance for some time. At
length he addressed him after the following manner:—“Thine air and thy
mien by no means contradict what I have heard, in regard to thy
extraction; and I therefore desire to know in what spirit thou hast
borne the abject condition to which thou wert reduced.” “Would to the
gods,” answered Abdolonymus, “that I may bear this crown with equal
patience! These hands have procured to me all I have enjoyed; for whilst
I had nothing, I wanted nothing.”

When Alexander heard this, he was so struck with admiration, that he not
only presented him with all the furniture that had belonged to Strato,
and part of the riches he had himself acquired in Persia, but he annexed
to his dominions one of the neighbouring provinces.

At this period, Quietus Curtius says[235], Sidon was a city greatly
celebrated on account of its antiquity and its founder.

Upon an elevation, on the south side of the city, stood a fine old
castle, now in ruins. It was built by Lewis IX. of France, surnamed the
Saint; who also repaired the city during the Holy Wars[236]. In
subsequent times it fell into decay; but its final ruin is said to have
been effected by Feckerdine, Emir of the Druses, when he had established
an independent power, with the view of preventing the Grand Signior from
landing a maritime force here to act against him. He destroyed all the
little ports, from Bairout to Acra, by sinking boats and stones to
prevent the Turkish ships from entering them[237]. He then built a
castle, which still exists. He erected also a magnificent palace in the
Italian style; but that is in ruins.

In the time of Volney, Sayda contained about five thousand inhabitants;
in 1816 from six thousand to seven thousand. Of these there are one
thousand Christians, five hundred Jews, the rest are Mahommedans. The
climate is mild, agreeable, and healthy.

The huge stones of which the mole was built may still be seen, being
capable of filling its whole thickness. Some of these are twelve feet
long, eleven broad, and five deep. It is supposed to have been built by
Lewis IX.; but this, perhaps, was not the case, since it contains, on
the top of it, a work of a much more ancient date.

On the opposite side of the town is a modern fort, built by Degnizlu;
but consisting merely of a large tower, incapable of resisting any
serious attack.

“Sidon was the mother of Tyre,” says Mr. Robinson; “yet it was speedily
eclipsed by that city, in fame, in riches, and in importance. After
sharing in its fortunes, during the space of many centuries, it has
finally survived its rival, and is again a place of considerable trade.”

The buildings of Sayda, according to Mr. Buckingham, are not at all
superior to the common order of Mahommedan edifices in the modern towns
of Syria. The streets are extremely narrow, the mosques mean, the
caravanserais small and incommodious, and the bazaars few, and badly
furnished even with the commonest necessaries. According to another
traveller, Sayda is ill-built, dirty, and full of ruins. These ruins,
however, are of a comparatively modern date.

Few of ancient times remain. There is, nevertheless, a large tesselated
pavement of variegated marble, representing a horse, and tolerably
perfect in some parts for ten feet in length, remaining close to the
sea, on the northern extremity of the city, which shows that the sea
encroaches on the land. There are also several columns of granite
wrought into the walls; and some stand as posts on the bridge leading to
the fort; and near the gate of the town is a small square building,
which contains the tombs of such of the Emirs of the Druses as died when
Sayda was in their possession.

Sayda is the principal port of Damascus. The harbour, like all those on
this coast, was formed with much art, and at an immense expense, by
means of long piers. These works, which subsisted entire under the lower
empire, are now fallen into decay. “So great are the mutations,
occasioned by time,” says Mr. Buckingham, “that but for the identity of
name and position, there would be scarcely any marks left by which to
recognise even the site of the present emporium here alluded to. The
stranger, who visits it in its present state, will look around in vain
for any of those vestiges of its former grandeur which the description
of the ancient historians would lead him to expect; and which, indeed,
are still to be seen in most of the other celebrated cities of the
East,—whether in Greece, Egypt, Syria, or Asia Minor.[238]”

NO. XXXI.—SMYRNA.

The true origin of Smyrna is rather doubtful. One account is, that such
of the Achaians as were descended from Æolus, and had hitherto inhabited
Laconia, being driven thence by the Dorians, after some wandering,
settled in that part of Asia Minor which, from them, was called Æolis;
where they founded twelve cities, one of which was Smyrna. According to
Herodotus, however, it owed its foundation to the Curmæans, who were of
Thessalian extraction; who, having built the city of Cuma, and finding
it too small to contain their number, erected another city, which they
named Smyrna, from the wife of their general, Theseus. According to
some, it was built by Tantalus; and others insist, and perhaps with
great truth, that it was founded by persons who inhabited a quarter of
Ephesus called Smyrna. Some have ascribed it to an Amazon of that name:
in respect to whom Sir George Wheler informs us, that they stamped their
money with a figure of her head, and that he got several pieces of them
very rare, and saw many more. One small one had her head crowned with
towers, and a two-edged hatchet on her shoulder. On another her whole
habit; thus—her head crowned with a tower, as before; a two-edged axe
upon her shoulder, holding a temple in her right hand, with a short vest
let down to her knees, and buskins half way up her legs. On another she
was dressed in the habit of a Hercules. Whatever its origin might be,
certain it is, that it was one of the richest and most powerful cities
of Asia, and became one of the twelve cities of the Ionian confederacy.

Smyrna has been subject to many revolutions, and been severally in the
possession of the Æolians, Ionians, and Macedonians.

The Lydians took possession under Ardys, son of Gyges; and having
destroyed it, the inhabitants dispersed themselves into several
districts.

Alexander, in compliance with the directions of a vision, he saw near
the temple of the Furies, rebuilt it four hundred years after it had
been destroyed by the Lydians. Strabo, however, attributes its
re-establishment to Antigonus and Lysimachus. But as neither that
author nor Arrian mention Alexander as having done so, it is not
improbable that he only meditated the doing so; that Antigonus followed
up his design; and that Lysimachus carried its completion into effect.

At Smyrna there were none of the tyrants, who oppressed many other
cities of Asia. Even the Romans respected the happy state of this town,
and left it the shadow of liberty. This is a fine panegyric upon the
system of polity, that must have been adopted and invariably preserved.

There is another circumstance, highly to its honour: the inhabitants
believed that Homer was born in their city, and they showed a place
which bore the poet’s name. They also paid him divine honours. Of all
the cities, which contended for the honour of having given birth to this
transcendant poet, Smyrna has undoubtedly the most reason on her side.
Herodotus absolutely decides in favour of Smyrna, assuring us, that he
was born on the banks of the river Meles, whence he took the name of
Melesigenes.

The inhabitants are said to have been much given to luxury and
indolence; but they were universally esteemed for their valour and
intrepidity when called into action. Anacharsis is made to speak of
their city in the following manner:—“Our road, which was almost
everywhere overshadowed by beautiful andrachnes, led us to the mouth of
the Hermus; and thence our view extended over that superb bay, formed by
a peninsula, on which are the cities of Erythræ and Teos. At the bottom
of it are some small villages, the unfortunate remains of the ancient
city of Smyrna, formerly destroyed by the Lydians. They still bear the
same name; and, should circumstances one day permit the inhabitants to
unite and form one town, defended by walls, their situation will
doubtless attract an immense commerce.”

It was the first town of Asia Minor, according to Tacitus, which, even
during the existence of Carthage, erected any temple to “Rome the
Goddess.” Part of the city was destroyed by Dolabella, when he slew
Trebonius, one of the conspirators against Cæsar. But it flourished
greatly under the early emperors: Marcus Aurelius repaired it after it
had been destroyed by an earthquake; and under Caracalla it took the
name of the first city of Asia.

Smyrna was much celebrated for its stately buildings, magnificent
temples, and marble porticoes. It had several grand porticoes of a
square form, amongst which was one in which stood a temple of Homer,
adorned with a statue of the bard. There was also a gymnasium, and a
temple dedicated to the mother of the gods. Where the gymnasium was,
however, is now past conjecture; but part of its theatre was still in
existence in the time of Sir George Wheler. “The theatre,” says he, “is
on the brow of the hill north of the course, built of white marble, but
now is going to be destroyed, to build the new Kan and Bazar hard by the
fort below, which they are now about; and in doing whereof there hath
been lately found a pot of medals, all of the emperor Gallienus’ family,
and the other tyrants that reigned in his time.” There were also there
the remains of a circus, and a considerable number of ancient
foundations and noble structures; but what they were Sir George
considered uncertain. He found also many inscriptions and medals, on
which the names of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero were to be read; on
others, sepulchral monuments. Among these, was one with an inscription
“_to the emperor Adrian, Olympian, Saviour and Founder_.”

In the Armenian church-yard he saw an inscription—“_Good Fortune to the
most splendid Metropolitan, and thrice Neocorus of the emperor,
according to the judgment of the most holy senate of Smyrniotes_[239].”

Many writers do not seem to be aware, that the ancient Smyrna did not
occupy the spot where modern Smyrna stands, but one about two miles and
a half distant. It was built partly on the brow of a hill, and partly on
a plain towards the port, and had a temple dedicated to Cybele. It was
then the most beautiful of all the Asiatic cities. “But that which was,
and ever will be, its true glory,” says Sir George Wheler, “was their
early reception of the gospel of Jesus Christ—glorious in the testimony
he has given of them, and happy in the faithful promises he made to
them. Let us, therefore, consider what he writeth to them by the
Evangelist St. John:—(Apoc. ii. 9.) ‘I know thy works and tribulation,
and poverty; but thou art rich. And I know the blasphemy of them, that
say they are Jews, and are not: but are the Synagogue of Satan. Fear
none of those things, which thou shalt suffer. Behold, the Devil shall
cast some of ye in prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have
tribulation ten days. Be thou faithful unto death; and I will give thee
a crown of life.’”

Previous to the year 1675, it had been partially destroyed, and several
times, by earthquakes; and it was predicted that a seventh convulsion
would be fatal to the whole city. Such a calamity, attended by a
dreadful fire, and the swallowing up of multitudes by the incursion of
the sea, recurred in 1688, and did, indeed, very nearly fulfil the
prophecy.

“Repeated strokes,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “and almost annual
pestilences, have since that period laid waste this devoted city; and
yet the convenience of a most spacious and secure harbour, together with
the luxuriant fertility of the surrounding country, and the prescriptive
excellence allowed nearly two thousand years to this port, in preference
to the other maritime stations of Asia Minor, still operate to collect
and keep together a vast mass of inhabitants from every quarter of the
globe.”

According to Pococke, the city might have been about four miles in
compass; of a triangular form. It seems to have extended about a mile on
the sea, and three miles on the north, south, and east sides, taking in
the compass of the castle. This stands on the remains of the ancient
castle, the walls of which were of the same kind of architecture as the
city walls on the hill. It is all in ruins, except a small part of the
west end, which is always kept shut up.

One of the gateways of white marble has been brought from another place;
and in the architrave round the arch there is a Greek inscription of the
middle ages. At another gate there is a colossal head, said to be that
of the Amazon Smyrna. It is of fine workmanship, and the tresses
particularly flow in a very natural manner. “Smyrna,” says Pococke, “was
one of the finest cities in these parts, and the streets were
beautifully laid out, well-paved, and adorned with porticoes, both above
and below. There was also a temple of Mars, a circus, and a theatre; and
yet there is now very little to be seen of all these things.”

Upon a survey of the castle, Dr. Chandler collected, that, after being
re-edified by John Angelus Comnenus, its condition, though less ruinous
than before, was far more mean and ignoble. The old wall, of which many
remnants may be discovered, is of a solid massive construction, worthy
of Alexander and his captains. All the repairs are mere patchwork. On
the arch of a gateway, which is of marble, is inscribed a copy of
verses, giving an elegant and poetical description of the extreme misery
from which the above-mentioned emperor raised the city; concluding with
an address to the Omnipotent Ruler of heaven and earth, that he would
grant him and his queen, whose beauty it celebrates, a reign of many
years. On each side is an eagle, rudely cut.

Near the sea is the ground-work of a stadium, stripped of its marble
seats and decorations. Below the theatre is part of a slight wall. The
city walls have long since been demolished. Even its ruins are removed.
Beyond the deep valley, however, in which the Meles winds, behind the
castle, are several portions of the wall of the Pomœrium, which
encompassed the city at a distance, but broken. The facings are gone,
and masses left only of rubble and cement.

The ancient city has supplied materials for those public edifices, which
have been erected by the Turks. The Bezestan and the Vizir khan were
both raised with the white marble of the theatre. The very ruins of the
stones and temples are vanished. “We saw,” says Dr. Chandler, “remains
of one only; some shafts of columns of variegated marble, much injured,
in the way ascending through the town to the castle. Many pedestals,
statues, inscriptions, and medals have been, and are still, discovered
in digging. Perhaps,” continues our author, “no place has contributed
more to enrich the cabinets and collections of Europe.”

“Smyrna,” says a celebrated French writer, “the queen of the cities of
Anatolia, and extolled by the ancients under the title of ‘the lovely,
the crown of Ionia, the ornament of Asia,’ braves the reiterated efforts
of conflagrations and earthquakes. Ten times destroyed, she has ten
times risen from her ruins with new splendour. According to a very
common Grecian system, the principal buildings were erected on the face
of a hill fronting the sea. The hill supplied marble, while its slope
afforded a place for the seats rising gradually above each other in the
stadium, or the great theatre for the exhibition of games. Almost every
trace of the ancient city, however, has been obliterated during the
contests between the Greek empire and the Ottomans, and afterwards by
the ravages of Timour, in 1402. The foundation of the stadium remains;
but the area is sown with grain. There are only a few vestiges of the
theatre; and the castle, which crowns the hill, is chiefly patchwork,
executed by John Comnenus on the ruins of the old one, the walls of
which, of immense strength and thickness, may still be discovered.”

This city was visited a short time since by the celebrated French poet
and traveller Lamartine. He has thus spoken of its environs:—“The view
from the top of the hill over the gulf and city is beautiful. On
descending the hill to the margin of the river, which I like to believe
is the Meles, we were delighted with the situation of the bridge of the
caravans, very near one of the gates of the town. The river is limpid,
slumbering under a peaceful arch of sycamores and cypresses; we seated
ourselves on its bank. If this stream heard the first notes of Homer, I
love to hear its gentle murmurings amidst the roots of the palm-trees; I
raise its waters to my lips. Oh! might that man appear from the Western
world, who should weave its history, its dreams, and its heaven, into an
epic! Such a poem is the sepulchre of times gone by, to which posterity
comes to venerate traditions, and eternalise by its worship the great
actions and sublime thoughts of human nature. Its author engraves his
name on the pedestal of the statue which he erects to man, and he lives
in all the ideas with which he enriches the world of imagination.”

According to the same author, Smyrna in no respect resembles an Eastern
town; it is a large and elegant factory, where the European consuls and
merchants lead the life of Paris and London.

Though frequently and severely visited by the plague, it contains one
hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants; and may be considered as the
great emporium of the Levant[240].

NO. XXXII.—SPALATRO.

When Diocletian selected a spot for his retirement, he solicitously
observed, that his palace should command every beauty that the country
afforded. In this retirement he began to live, to see the beauty of the
sun, and to enjoy, as Vopiscus relates, true happiness in the society of
those he had known in his youth[241]. His palace was situated at
Spalatro, in Dalmatia.

While residing at this place, Diocletian made a very remarkable and
strictly true confession:—“Four or five persons,” said he, “who are
closely united, and resolutely determined to impose on a prince, may do
it very easily. They never show things to him but in such a light as
they are sure will please. They conceal whatever would contribute to
enlighten him; and as they only besiege him continually, he cannot be
informed of any thing but through their medium, and does nothing but
what they think fit to suggest to him. Hence it is, that he bestows
employments on those he ought to exclude from them; and, on the other
hand, removes from offices such persons as are most worthy of filling
them. In a word, the best prince is often sold by these men, though he
be ever so vigilant, and even suspicious of them.”

As the voyager enters the bay, the marine wall and long arcades of the
palace, one of the ancient temples, and other parts of that building,
present themselves. The inhabitants have destroyed some parts of the
palace, in order to procure materials for building. In other places
houses are built of the old foundations; and modern works are so
intermingled with the ancient, as scarcely to be distinguishable.

The palace of Diocletian possessed all those advantages of situation, to
which the ancients were most attentive. It was so great that the emperor
Constantinus Porphyrogenitus, who had seen the most splendid buildings
of the ancients, affirms[242], that no plan or description of it could
convey a perfect idea of it. The vast extent of ground which it occupied
is surprising at first sight; the dimensions of one side of the
quadrangle, including the towers, being no less than six hundred and
ninety-eight feet, and of the other four hundred and ninety-two
feet:—making the superficial contents four hundred and thirteen
thousand two hundred and sixteen feet; that is, about nine and a half
English acres. But when it is considered that it contained proper
apartments not only for the emperor himself, and for the numerous
retinue of officers who attended his court, but likewise edifices and
open spaces for exercises of different kinds, that it was capable of
lodging a prætorian cohort, and that two temples were erected within its
precincts, we shall not conclude the area to have been too large for
such a variety of buildings.

For a description of this celebrated place, we must refer to Mr. Adam’s
Antiquities; but there is one circumstance that may be highly
interesting at the present time, which is, that not the smallest vestige
of a fire-place is to be seen in any part of the building; and it may be
therefore conjectured, that the various apartments might have been
heated by flues or funnels, conveying and distributing heated air.

Of the temples, one of them was dedicated to Æsculapius; the ascent to
which was by a stair of fifteen steps, and it received no light but from
the door. Beneath it are vaults of great strength; its roof is an arch
adorned with sunk pannels of beautiful workmanship, and its walls are of
a remarkable thickness. This temple remains almost entire.

There is another temple, dedicated to Jupiter, who was worshipped by
Diocletian with peculiar veneration; and in honour of whom he assumed
the name of Jovius. This temple is surrounded with one row of columns,
having a space between them and the wall. It is lighted by an arched
window over the door, and is vaulted beneath like that of Æsculapius.
There are remains of two other buildings, not much inferior in extent,
nor probably in original magnificence; but by the injuries of time, and
the depredations of the Spalatrines, these are reduced to a very ruinous
condition.

Besides these the visitor sees large vaults along that side of the
palace which looks to the sea; partly destroyed, partly filled up, and
some occupied by merchants as storehouses.

In one of the towers belonging to the palace, Diocletian is supposed to
have been buried; and we are told that, about two hundred and
seventy-five years ago, the body of the emperor was discovered there in
a sarcophagus of porphyry.

The shafts of the columns of the temple of Jupiter are of oriental
alabaster of one stone. The capitals and bases of the columns, and on
the entablature, are of Parian marble. The shafts of the columns of the
second order, which is composite, are alternately of verd-antique, or
ancient green marble and porphyry, of one piece. The capitals and
entablature are also of Parian marble.

All the capitals throughout the palace are raffled more in the Grecian
than the Roman style; so that Mr. Adam[243] thinks it probable, that
Diocletian, who had been so often in Greece, brought his artificers
thither, in order to vary the execution of his orders of architecture in
this palace, from those he had executed at his baths at Rome, which are
extremely different both in formation and execution[244].

NO. XXXIII.—STRATONICE.

This was a town in Caria, where a Macedonian colony took up their abode;
and which several Syrian monarchs afterwards adorned and beautified. It
was named after the wife of Antiochus Soter, of whom history gives the
following account. “Antiochus was seized with a lingering distemper, of
which the physicians were incapable of discovering the cause; for which
reason his condition was thought entirely desperate. Erasistratus, the
most attentive and skilful of all the physicians, having carefully
considered every symptom with which the indisposition of the young
prince was attended, believed at last that he had discovered its true
cause, and that it proceeded from a passion he had entertained for some
lady; in which conjecture he was not deceived. It, however, was more
difficult to discover the object of a passion, the more violent from the
secrecy in which it remained. The physician, therefore, to assure
himself fully of what he surmised, passed whole days in the apartment of
his patient, and when he saw any lady enter, he carefully observed the
countenance of the prince, and never discovered the least emotion in
him, except when Stratonice came into the chamber, either alone, or with
her consort; at which times the young prince was, as Plutarch observes,
always affected with the symptoms described by Sappho, as so many
indications of a violent passion. Such, for instance, as a suppression
of voice; burning blushes; suffusion of sight; cold sweat; a sensible
inequality and disorder of pulse; with a variety of the like symptoms.
When the physician was afterwards alone with his patient, he managed his
inquiries with so much dexterity, as at last drew the secret from him.
Antiochus confessed his passion for queen Stratonice his mother-in-law,
and declared that he had in vain employed all his efforts to vanquish
it: he added, that he had a thousand times had recourse to every
consideration that could be represented to his thoughts, in such a
conjuncture; particularly the respect due from him to a father and a
sovereign, by whom he was tenderly beloved; the shameful circumstance of
indulging a passion altogether unjustifiable, and contrary to all the
rules of decency and honour; the folly of harbouring a design he ought
never to be desirous of gratifying; but that his reason, in its present
state of distraction, entirely engrossed by one object, would hearken to
nothing. And he concluded with declaring, that, to punish himself, for
desires involuntary in one sense, but criminal in every other, he had
resolved to languish to death, by discontinuing all care of his health,
and abstaining from every kind of food. The physician gained a very
considerable point, by penetrating into the source of his patient’s
disorder; but the application of the proper remedy was much more
difficult to be accomplished; and how could a proposal of this nature be
made to a parent and king! When Seleucus made the next inquiry after his
son’s health, Erasistratus replied, that his distemper was incurable,
because it arose from a secret passion which could never be gratified,
as the lady he loved was not to be obtained. The father, surprised and
afflicted at this answer, desired to know why the lady was not to be
obtained? ‘Because she is my wife!’ replied the physician, ‘and I am not
disposed to yield her up to the embraces of another.’ ‘And will you not
part with her then,’ replied the king, ‘to preserve the life of a son I
so tenderly love! Is this the friendship you profess for me?’ ‘Let me
entreat you, my lord,’ said Erasistratus, ‘to imagine yourself for one
moment in my place, would you resign your Stratonice to his arms? If
you, therefore, who are a father, would not consent to such a sacrifice
for the welfare of a son so dear to you, how can you expect another
should do it?’ ‘I would resign Stratonice, and my empire to him, with
all my soul,’ interrupted the king. ‘Your majesty then,’ replied the
physician, ‘has the remedy in your own hands; for he loves Stratonice.’
The father did not hesitate a moment after this declaration, and easily
obtained the consent of his consort: after which, his son and that
princess were crowned king and queen of upper Asia. Julian the Apostate,
however, relates in a fragment of his writings still extant, that
Antiochus could not espouse Stratonice, till after the death of his
father.

“Whatever traces of reserve, moderation, and even modesty, appear in the
conduct of this young prince,” says Rollin at the conclusion of this
history, “his example shows us the misfortune of giving the least