Some Ionic fragments of small proportions are scattered among the ruins. On the rock there was anciently a statue of Jupiter; but Pausanias mentions no temple. The theatre stands at the foot of the Acropolis, and faces the plain. It is the smallest in Greece, except one at Mesaloggion; but it is well preserved. Indeed, nothing is better calculated to resist the devastations of time than the Grecian theatres, when they are cut in the rock, as they generally are.
"The sole remains of this town," says Sir John Hobhouse, "are some large stones six feet in length, and the ruins of a wall on the hill, and part of a shaft of a column, with its capital; the seats of a small amphitheatre, cut out of the rock, on the side of the same hill; in the flat below, a fountain, partly constructed of marble fragments, containing a few letters, not decipherable; some bits of marble pillars, just appearing above ground, and the ruins of a building of Roman brick."
Two inscriptions have, we understand, lately been discovered at this place; one relative to Apollo, the other to Diana. Several tombs have been also discovered and opened.
Though a respectable traveller asserts, that the battle of Chæronea, by putting an end to the turbulent independence of the Grecian republics, introduced into that country an unusual degree of civil tranquillity and political repose, we cannot ourselves think so; we therefore subjoin, from Dr. Leland, a short account of the conqueror's death.
"When the Greeks and Macedonians were seated in the theatre, Philip came out of his palace, attended by the two Alexanders, his son and son-in-law. He was clothed in a white flowing robe, waving in soft and graceful folds, the habiliment in which the Grecian deities were usually represented. He moved forward with a heart filled with triumph and exultation, while the admiring crowds shouted forth their flattering applause. His guards had orders to keep at a considerable distance from his person, to show that the king confided in the affections of his people, and had not the least apprehensions of danger amidst all this mixed concourse of different states and nations. Unhappily, the danger was but too near him. The injured Pausanias had not yet forgot his wrongs, but still retained those terrible impressions, which the sense of an indignity he had received, and the artful and interested representations of others, fixed deeply in his mind. He chose this fatal morning for the execution of his revenge, on the prince who had denied reparation to his injured honour. His design had been for some time premeditated, and now was the dreadful moment of effecting it. As Philip marched on in all his pride and pomp, this young Macedonian slipped through the crowd, and, with a desperate and malignant resolution, waited his approach in a narrow passage, just at the entrance into the theatre. The king advanced towards him: Pausanias drew his poniard; plunged it into his heart; and the conqueror of Greece, and terror of Asia, fell prostrate to the ground, and instantly expired[194].
NO. XXVII.—CORDUBA.
"Are we at Cordova?" says a modern writer. "The whole reign of the Omniad Caliphs passes, in mental review, before us. Once the seat of Arabian art, gallantry, and magnificence, the southern kingdom of Spain was rich and flourishing. Agriculture was respected; the fine arts cultivated; gardens were formed; roads executed; palaces erected; and physics, geometry, and astronomy, advanced. The inhabitants were active and industrious; accomplishments were held in esteem; and the whole state of society formed a striking contrast to that of every other in Europe."
It was situated in Hispanic Bœtica, having been built by Marcellus. It was the native place of both the Senecas, and Lucan. Indeed, it produced, in ancient times, so many celebrated characters, that it was styled the "mother of men of genius." Its laws were written in verse; and its academy was partly distinguished for its cultivation of the Greek language, as well as for rhetoric and philosophy. It became celebrated, also, under the Moors.
Of its ancient grandeur, however, Cordova has preserved nothing but a vast inclosure, filled with houses, half in ruins. Its long, narrow, and ill-paved streets are almost deserted; most of the houses are uninhabited; and the multitude of churches and convents which it contains, are besieged by a crowd of vagabonds, covered with rags. The ancient palace of the Moors has been converted into stables, in which, till within these few years, one hundred Andalusian horses were usually kept. Their genealogy was carefully preserved; and the name and age of each written over the stall in which he stood. In the place appropriated to bathing, is part of a Cufic inscription.