Athens, March 29. We arrived yesterday at Piraeus, more dead than
alive, on the _Prince Abbas_, a cockleshell that brought us from
Alexandria. Things are no better to-day on the Mediterranean boats
than when Lord Byron made his memorable trip on board the Lisbon
packet! Mr. Cook, or his agent, plucked us and our baggage out of
that dark hold where we had languished many days and seated us, a
demoralized party, in a comfortable landau. We each drooped
languidly in our corner, our spines damp macaroni. Gradually limp
vertebrae stiffened up, heads lifted, eyes opened. We were restored
by the elixir of the air, the color of the sky and fields. At a
turn in the road, before we were quite prepared for it, came the
first view of the Acropolis. Half a lifetime had passed since I
had left it, and it has only grown in beauty. Athens is much
improved. The roads are better, the streets cleaner, the whole city
better kept than I remembered it. The people look prosperous; there
is a general air of well-being in all classes.
We hurried to the Acropolis, where we found the old immortal
glories and much that was new and interesting in the small museum
behind the Parthenon. The two most precious objects of Greek art
which the last twenty years’ research has brought to light, you are
familiar with,--the Victory untying her sandal and the Hermes of
Olympia. The museum contains curious archaic statues discovered
buried in a deep trench. The theory is that in the age of Pericles
and the consummate art of the sculptors of that time, these earlier
sacred statues of earthenware and painted stone were dethroned and
decorously interred in the sacred soil of the Acropolis. It does
seem a little shabby to unearth these poor discarded gods and tuck
them away as curiosities in a little shed behind the temple of
Athena Parthena, where they once reigned supreme! We sat on the
steps of the Parthenon and watched the sky change from blue to
purple and gold, waiting for the moment when the violet mist rose
up out of the sea and draped Mount Hymettus with a veil.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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