Herodotus relates, that cenotaphs, composed of heaps of earth, were raised near the town; but no vestige of these remain; nor are there any traces of the sepulchres of those who fell at Platæa. These are mentioned by Plutarch, who says, that at the anniversary of those who were killed at Platæa, the Archon crossed the city to go to the sepulchres, and drawing water from the fountain in a vase, washed the columns of the tombs, and made libations of wine, oil, milk, and perfumes.
Here was a temple of Minerva, in which Polygnotus executed a group of the return of Ulysses; and a statue of the goddess of great size, of gilt wood; but the face, hands, and feet, were of ivory. Also a temple of Diana, in which was a monument of Euchidas, a citizen of Platæa, to commemorate his having run from Platæa to Delphos, and returned before sunset: he expired a few minutes after. The distance was thirty-seven leagues and a half.
Mr. Dodwell says, he could find no certain traces of this temple, nor of one dedicated to Ceres, unless several heaps of large stones might be regarded as such. Neither could he find any remains of a stadium. He saw, however, a frieze of white marble, enriched with Ionic ornaments.
Dr. Clarke says, that the upper part of the promontory is covered with ruins; amidst which he found some pieces of serpentine porphyry; and the peasants, he says, in ploughing the soil in the neighbourhood, find their labours frequently obstructed by large blocks of stone, and earth, filled with broken remains of terra cottas. The ground-plot and foundations of temples are visible among the vestiges of the citadel, and remains of towers are conspicuous upon the walls.
The walls form a triangle of about three thousand three hundred yards in compass. In some parts they are in a high state of preservation, and extremely interesting; since they were rebuilt in the reign of Alexander, after having been destroyed by the Persians. They are of regular masonry, eight feet in thickness, and fortified by towers, most of which are square.[99]
The view from the ruins is extremely interesting and beautiful. “When we look towards Thebes,” says Mr. Dodwell, “we behold the Asopos, and the other small streams, winding through this memorable plain, which, towards the west, is separated by a low range of hills from the equally celebrated field of Leuctra; while the distant view is terminated by the two pointed summits of Helicon, and the snow-topped heights of Parnassus.”—“What must this city have been, in all its pride and glory!” exclaims Mr. Williams. “The remains now appear grey as twilight; but without a charm of returning day. Time is modelling now, instead of art. Miles of ancient pottery and tiles, hardly allowing the blades of corn to grow among the ruins; sheep-tracks among the massive foundations; asses loaded with brush-wood, from shrubs growing in the courts of ancient palaces and temples; shepherds with their flocks, the bells of the goats heard from among the rocks; tombs and sarcophagi of ancient heroes, covered with moss, some broken and some entire; fragments, and ornaments, and stones containing mutilated inscriptions;—these are the objects, which Platæa now presents. But who, that stands there, with a recollection of its ancient glory, and having Parnassus full in view, can quit the spot without regret?[100]”
NO. XVIII.—PÆSTUM.[101]
Wreck of the mighty—relics of the dead— Who may remove the veil o’er Pæstum spread, Who pierce the clouds that rest upon your name, Or from oblivion’s eddies snatch your fame?— Yet as she stands within your mould’ring walls, Fancy—the days of former pride recalls; And at her bidding—lo! the Tyrrhene shore, Swarms with its countless multitude once more; And bright pavilions rise;—her magic art Peoples thy streets, and throngs thy busy mart. In quick succession her creative power Restores the splendour of Phœnicia’s hour, Revives the Sybarite’s unbless’d repose, Toss’d on the foldings of the Pæstum rose, Lucania’s thraldom—Rome’s imperial sway, The Vandal’s triumph—and the robber’s prey. But truth beholds thee now, a dreary waste; Where solitude usurps the realms of taste. Where once thy doubly blooming roses smiled, The nettle riots, and the thorn runs wild; Primeval silence broods upon thy plain, And ruin holds her desolate domain: Save where, in massive pride, three temples stand Colossal fragments of a mighty land. Sepulchral monuments of fame, that tower In proud derision of barbarian power; That still survive and mock, with front sublime, The spoiler’s vengeance, and the strifes of time. Rogers.
When the president Dupaty first beheld Pæstum, he expressed his admiration in the following manner:—“No; I am not at Pæstum, in a city of the Sybarites! Never did the Sybarites choose for their habitation so horrible a desert; never did they build a city in the midst of weeds, on a parched soil, on a spot where the little water to be met with is stagnant and dirty. Lead me to one of those groves of roses, which still bloom in the poetry of Virgil.[102] Show me some baths of alabaster; some palaces of marble; show me on all sides voluptuousness, and you will indeed make me believe I am at Pæstum. It is true, nevertheless, that it was the Sybarites who built these three temples, in one of which I write this letter, seated on the ruins of a pediment, which has withstood the ravages of two thousand years. How strange! Sybarites and works that have endured two thousand years! How could Sybarites imagine and erect so prodigious a number of columns of such vile materials, of such uncouth workmanship, of so heavy a mass, and such a sameness of form? It is not the character of Grecian columns to crush the earth; they lightly mounted into the air; these, on the contrary, weigh ponderously on the earth; they fall. The Grecian columns had an elegant and slender shape, around which the eye continually glided; these have a wide and clumsy form, around which it is impossible for the eye to turn: our pencils and our graving-tools, which flatter every monument, have endeavoured in vain to beautify them. I am of the opinion of those, who think that these temples were the earliest essays of the Grecian architecture, and not its master-pieces. The Greeks, when they erected these pillars, were searching for the column. It must be admitted, however, that, notwithstanding their rusticity, these temples do possess beauties; they present at least simplicity, unity, and a whole, which constitute the first of beauties: the imagination may supply almost all the others, but it never can supply these. It is impossible to visit these places without emotion. I proceed across desert fields, along a frightful road, far from all human traces, at the foot of rugged mountains, on shores where there is nothing but the sea; and suddenly I behold a temple, then a second, then a third: I make my way through grass and weeds; I mount on the socle of a column, or on the ruins of a pediment: a cloud of ravens take their flight; cows low in the bottom of a sanctuary; the adder, basking between the column and the weeds, hisses and makes his escape; a young shepherd, however, carelessly leaning on an ancient cornice, stands serenading with his reedy pipe the vast silence of this desert.” Such was the language of Dupaty, when he entered these celebrated ruins; nor was his enthusiasm in any way misplaced.