I left Athens on the 9th of May with regret, for I had been so much interrupted, that all I had wished and intended to perform was by no means accomplished. The boatmen who were to take me to Egina, as usual in Greece, were not ready near the appointed time; the fair wind died away, and we arrived at Egina so late that the harbour-master was gone to bed. No one was permitted to land, and we were consequently obliged to remain in the boat all night. In the morning I went on shore, and visited the remains of a Doric temple near the port. In the time of Chandler there were two columns erect, and a portion of the architrave, but the architrave and one capital disappeared some time ago. The storms of last December, which had annoyed us so much in coming to Greece, threw down the most perfect of the remaining columns, I measured its beautiful capital, which is certainly one of the best examples existing. A few traces of terrace-walls remain, but as the situation is on a gentle eminence, entirely under cultivation, and close to a comparatively thriving town, the circumstances are unfavourable to its preservation. A considerable portion of the ancient walls of the port also exist, but I could not distinctly make out their arrangement. The piers are formed of external courses of pretty large stretchers, alternately filled in with two headers and three stretchers, the external joint always remaining perpendicular over that below.
Some subterraneous chambers have been lately discovered in the neighbourhood of this town, but they have been filled up again, and I only saw a few inscriptions of late date, i. e. not 2,000 years old. The ancient city of Egina was on a mountain, about two miles distant, and it is only a few years ago that the inhabitants began to descend to a more convenient situation. They have bought some privileges of the Turks, and are flourishing greatly under this partial glimpse of liberty, though they have no assurance of its continuance. Those who are habitually secure in the exercise of their own rights, can form no idea of the elasticity of the human mind when a little relieved from oppression. The town is neat and clean, and about five years ago they began to build a church, which is by far the largest I have seen in Greece. The houses have no pretence to magnificence, but they seem to contain all the essentials of Greek comfort, and every thing announces a thriving place. After this ramble, I returned to take another look at the remains of the temple, when a woman called me to her, and showed me an ivory pin, which she assured me had been taken out of the middle of the column when it was overturned; if so it must have been used as a centre in describing the column. I offered her a rubia for it. This is a small gold coin worth one hundred and ten parás, or about two shillings, or two and a penny. I should have offered more, but was pretty certain that if genuine, I should not obtain it; for, entirely ignorant of what might be demanded for objects of antiquity, the Greek peasantry endeavour to obtain as many offers as they can, in order to form their judgment, and never part with it to the first bidder.
Before noon I was on board another boat to go to Pidhavro, or Epidaurus, but the calms made it evening before we arrived there; however, I had time to walk to the site of the ancient town on a little peninsulated hill, but it is marked only by the remains of the Cyclopean wall which defended it. The stones are well fitted together, and sometimes notched into the adjoining ones; one part shows two faces, and the interval is now filled up with dirt. The open ground was almost covered with spiders’ webs, forming funnels leading to a hole in the earth, probably occupied by the animal. At the foot of the hill is a small fragment of brickwork, which appears to have been a bath; and there are traces of an aqueduct. In a wood by the way there is a recumbent statue of Pentelic marble, of fine style, but as you may suppose, much mutilated; and there are also some fragments of drapery of less merit.
The next morning I proceeded to Hiero, the chief seat of the worship of Æsculapius. Foundations of temples, baths, and aqueducts; of a theatre, a stadium, and various other buildings, announce its former magnificence; but in so wild and remote a place, it seems surprising that nothing but foundations should remain. The situation occupies part of an elevated valley, of varied surface, and surrounded by mountains, neither high, bold, nor woody, but which by contrast must have heightened the effect of the display of architecture beneath them.
One of the first objects which fixed my attention was a spring bubbling up through sand, and throwing up a little milky cloud when disturbed, perhaps from a portion of pipeclay in the soil; for it had no mineral taste or smell. One supposes that there must have been a medicinal spring of some sort, to give reputation to the place, and make it appropriate to the worship of the god of medicine; but if any such existed, it is now buried under the heaps of rubbish, for besides this spring, the only water I could find was a little rill descending from the mountains, equally destitute of mineral appearances, but warm, and tasting of decomposed vegetable matter, as if exposed to the air and sun in a course of some length. By the existing remains of aqueducts tending towards this streamlet, it seems to have supplied the water of the baths and cisterns. I next visited a large bath, which appears to have been originally of stone, but repaired with brick. The arch is used in both parts. The aqueduct which supplied it, is a small square conduit with a semicircular channel on the lower stone, calculated for a very small current of water: below this ruin we again met with evidences of baths and aqueducts. Pausanias mentions the theatre as the most beautiful in Greece, but in whatever its superiority may have consisted, it has now disappeared, and we see only a hollow on the side of the mountain, surrounded by seats of a red and white marble, and half overgrown with bushes. Some foundations of the proscenium may be observed, but they are merely indications that something once stood there, and without digging it would not be possible to make out even its ground plan. Passing among fragments, and over numerous old foundations, we arrive at the Stadium, which is also a hollow, but of a different shape; and the seats do not remain. At some distance, and not very far from my first entrance into this valley, is an extensive marble pavement, which apparently once belonged to a large temple, but there is no vestige either of walls or columns. Some Roman antiquities in the lower part closed my observations. On the road hence to Lycourió there are some inscriptions, and fragments of mouldings. An extremely beautiful ornament of a large size remains among the fragments of Hiero, and there is abundance of pieces of tiles, many of which were painted with frets, or with leaves. There is also at Agia Marina, near Lycourió, a little bit of Cyclopean masonry, which might be taken for a pyramid, but for an irregularity on the south side. It was probably a tomb.
I was very ill at Hiero, and even anticipated the probability of being laid up at Lycourió, the nearest village, where I dined and passed the night. However, the next morning I exerted myself to proceed in my journey to Nafplia, for Lycourió is certainly not a place in which a man would be confined by illness if he could possibly avoid it. In the way I observed some forts of Cyclopean masonry, and visited one of them, but found nothing except these great, rude walls of unworked stones, and without cement, supporting the earth behind them.
I expected to meet Mr. B. at Nafplia, but he had proceeded to Argos, and after resting about an hour at the house of the French consul, I followed him. In the way I visited the ruins of Tyrins. The walls are of the rudest Cyclopean masonry, the stones seem to have been selected to fit their intended situations, and not to have been touched with a tool, and this was probably effected by the use of the Phœnician rule mentioned by Herodotus. A strip of lead was bent into the angle intended to be filled up, and then the same strip reversed was applied to the stones collected for use. In one instance however, on the east side, we find a stone with a sunk face and two holes in it, and a circular sinking below. Besides these walls, we may observe here a sort of gallery covered by the advance of the successive courses of stone; but after all, the great interest of the place is, that you see the very walls admired by Homer 2,500 years ago. The figure of Tyrins has been compared to that of a ship, but there is more imagination than truth in the resemblance.
I was rather glad to find that Mr. B. had left Argos, for I felt myself so completely exhausted, that it would have been a painful effort to speak only a dozen words. My attendant procured for me very comfortable quarters at the house of a Greek, where I spent the next day, partly to rest myself, and partly to recover my watch, which I had taken out at Nafplia and very carelessly left behind me.
Argos is situated at the foot of a high hill, on the edge of one of the finest plains in Greece. The length of this plain must be nearly fifteen miles, its breadth eight or ten; and if but a little kingdom, it must be confessed a most noble estate for Agamemnon. It is bounded by ranges of varied and picturesque mountains, rising in successive distances, and by the fine gulf of Argos. It wants indeed the olive-grove of the plain of Athens, but its greater extent, greater fertility, and more broken and varied boundary, give it the decided preference in natural beauty. The older antiquities of Argos consist only of a few fragments of Cyclopean walls, the stones of which are artificially fitted together. Of Roman times there are some remains of temples, or baths, of an aqueduct, and of a theatre. There is also a long, subterraneous chamber cut in the rock, the receptacle of either corn or water; and at the top of a hill the ruins of a Venetian fortress, built partly on ancient foundations, make a conspicuous figure. Argos itself is a collection of mud cottages; yet in general they do not look either shabby or dirty, and as they are mixed with gardens and fruit-trees, and with the domes and slender minarets of the Turkish mosques, and the tall cypresses which surround them, Argos has on the whole a very pleasing appearance. A number of Albanian children crowded about me while I was drawing: some of the girls were very beautiful.
While I was here, a Turk of consequence, with an order from the vaivode applied for admission into the house of my landlord: a representation that his rooms were already occupied by a milordhos, released him from the intrusion, greatly to his satisfaction. His English guest gave him little trouble, and paid for the use of every thing he had. The Turk would have given him a great deal of trouble, made use of the best of every thing, and paid little, or perhaps nothing. The Greeks of the Morea are very much oppressed, but rather by the Turks than by the Turkish government. They pay one seventh of the gross produce of the land, animate and inanimate, but the taxgatherers live at free quarters, and exact presents besides, and a Turk of any consequence feels himself entitled to take their fruit and fowls whenever he pleases, at his own prices. These things are not indeed according to law, but as justice is neither pure nor impartially administered, it is a dangerous resource.