thens--all Athens in its Acropolis--all the
Acropolis in the Parthenon--so much crowds upon the mind confusedly that
we look for some enduring monument whereupon we can fasten our thoughts,
and from which we can pass as from a visible starting-point into all
this history and all this greatness. And at first we look in vain. The
shattered pillars and the torn pediments will not bear so great a
strain; and the traveler feels forced to admit a sense of
disappointment, sore against his will. He has come a long journey into
the remoter parts of Europe; he has reached at last what his soul had
longed for many years in vain; and as is wont to be the case with all
great human longings, the truth does not answer to his desire. The pang
of disappointment is all the greater when he sees that the tooth of time
and the shock of earthquake have done but little harm. It is the hand of
man--of reckless foe and ruthless lover--which has robbed him of his
hope....

Nothing is more vexatious than the reflection, how lately these splendid
remains have been reduced to their present state. The Parthenon, being
used as a Greek church, remained untouched and perfect all through the
Middle Ages. Then it became a mosque, and the Erechtheum a seraglio, and
in this way survived without damage till 1687, when, in the bombardment
by the Venetians under Morosini, a shell dropt into the Parthenon, where
the Turks had their powder stored, and blew out the whole center of the
building. Eight or nine pillars at each side have been thrown down, and
have left a large gap, which so severs the front and rear of the temple,
that from the city below they look like the remains of two different
buildings. The great drums of these pillars are yet lying there, in
their order, just as they fell, and some money and care might set them
all up again in their places; yet there is not in Greece the patriotism
or even the common sense to enrich the country by this restoration,
matchless in its certainty as well as in its splendor.

But the Venetians were not content with their exploit. They were, about
this time, when they held possession of most of Greece, emulating the
Pisan taste for Greek sculptures; and the four fine lions standing at
the gate of the arsenal in Venice still testify to their zeal in
carrying home Greek trophies to adorn their capital.

In its great day, and even as Pausanias saw it, the Acropolis was
covered with statues, as well as with shrines. I