Similarly Julius Cæsar, of the _gens Julia_, which traced its origin to Iulus, son of Æneas, and was proud of its legendary descent from Trojan stock, lavished honors on Troy,[71] as did also the Consul Livius, who offered sacrifice on the acropolis of Ilium, in the name of Rome, and not only exempted it from tribute but also gave it jurisdiction over that part of the surrounding country known as the Troad. If then, one would come under the spell of Troy, if one would experience the magic influence of its _spiritus loci_, one must visit it as did Byron and Cæsar and Alexander--free from the withering doubts raised by modern atomistic criticism and with a reasonable belief not only in the existence of Priam’s city but also in the personality of Homer and in his authorship of the marvelous epic on the Trojan war. And we must remember that for nearly three thousand years there was no question regarding the identity of that Greek whom Dante calls _poeta sovrano_, the one, he tells us, who was _Of mortals the most cherished by the nine_.[72] We must recall the estimation in which he was held by the ancients, who never wavered respecting the identity of _The blind old man who dwelt on Scio’s rocky isle_. So paramount, indeed, were the reputation and influence of the immortal poet “whose genius had breathed inspiration into the national life of Greece” that it was said, when tradition respecting his sublime achievements was still fresh, _Seven cities now contend for Homer dead_ _Through which the living Homer begged his bread._ The genius of Homer [declares a recent writer] was worshiped as god-like and temples were erected to his honor at Chios, Alexandria, Smyrna, and elsewhere; games were also instituted in his memory; Apollo and Homer were actually worshiped together at Argos, the one as the god of song, the other of minstrelsy.[73] Filled with these thoughts and with a life-long love of the poet’s masterpieces, I visited every nook and corner of the Trojan plain and with unrestrained rapture contemplated the places which had so haunted my youthful imagination when I first became acquainted with the sublime pages of the _Iliad_. For the time being I forgot all about Wolf, Lachman, Hermann, and other advocates of the atomistic theory respecting Homer’s matchless epic and, like a child reading a fairy tale, I loved to picture before my eyes the wonderful events which Homer so vividly describes and which seemed to me almost as real as they were to the actual spectators three thousand years ago. _Still in our ears Andromache complains,_ _And still in sight the fate of Troy remains;_ _Still Ajax fights, still Hector’s dragged along,--_ _Such strange enchantment dwells in Homer’s song._