NOWHERE in Greece, nowhere perhaps in the ancient world, were the geographical conditions more favourable to the growth of a genial, intelligent, and energetic community than in Athens. The sky was bright, the air pure, and the climate temperate. The soil, while not so rich as to demoralise the inhabitants or to offer much inducement to an invader, yielded its cultivators the means of subsistence in the form of figs, olives, corn, and wine. At the same time the city enjoyed the advantage of easy communication with other countries both by land and sea, being situated on a plain which formed part of the continent of Europe, and having on its projecting coast three safe and commodious harbours, which gave it facilities for traffic in many different directions. For the purpose of defence, its Acropolis, facing the sea a few miles off, and backed at a considerable distance by a well-defined mountain frontier, provided it with a natural stronghold in case of attack.

The Acropolis is only one of a number of heights

rising out of the plain in the neighbourhood of Athens, including Lycabettus, Areopagus, Pnyx, and Museum Hill. Though not nearly so high as Lycabettus, the Acropolis was better fitted for defence, as it was almost inaccessible from all sides except the west, and had a flat summit of considerable extent. In itself it is not equal to the Castle Rock of “modern Athens,” being only 150 feet high, 1150 long, and about 500 in breadth. But it is a far more striking object from many points of view, partly owing to its position on a rising ground, partly because it is crowned with the noble ruins of the Parthenon. Many traces still remain of its original fortifications, which were of a Cyclopean character, and were attributed to the Pelasgian race. This name, indeed, survives in the Pelasgicon (otherwise called Pelargicon), an elaborate outwork consisting of a series of terraced battlements with nine gates (Enneapylon), of which some remains can still be made out. On the eastern side there can also be seen the lower courses of a wall which had been built to fill up a depression in the hill.

Although Attica is not much more than half the size of Cornwall, there was a time when its inhabitants were divided into many different communities, practically independent of each other. The city of Athens was then confined to the Acropolis and a small extent of ground in its immediate neighbourhood on the south-east. According to tradition it was Theseus who welded together the various demes or townships into one organised community under his single rule; and in commemoration of this rare achievement in Greek history the festival of Synoecia long continued to be celebrated. Theseus is mentioned both in the Iliad and the Odyssey, and his two sons fought in the Trojan war, yet it was not he but his successor Menestheus who commanded the Athenian forces in the war, owing to certain impieties committed by him which entailed upon him the loss of his crown. No hero was credited with more wonderful performances than Theseus both by land and sea, and even in the underground world, though his efforts there were not so successful. His most memorable exploit in the eyes of the Athenians was the destruction of the Minotaur, a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull, which was kept at Knossus, the capital of the Cretan empire of Minos, and to which Athens had to devote a sacrifice of seven youths and seven maidens every nine years. When the time came round Theseus volunteered to accompany the victims, in order to deliver them; and with the help of Ariadne, the king’s daughter, who furnished him with a clue to the labyrinth in which the monster was confined and a sword, he succeeded in his perilous mission, and brought back his young companions safe and sound. He had arranged with his father Ægeus that in that event he would hoist a white sail instead of the usual black one; but unfortunately he omitted to give the sign, and the aged king, who was looking out from the Acropolis, where the temple of NikÉ now stands, being overcome with grief at the apparent failure of his son’s heroic undertaking, threw himself down among the rocks and perished. According to another version of the story, he was waiting on the shore and threw himself into the sea. To commemorate the event embodied in this tradition the Athenians were in the habit of sending a ship to Delos every year to offer to Apollo a sacrifice of a less distressing nature. During the month in which this took place, no public act was permitted that was considered to be out of keeping with it, such as the execution of a criminal; and it was owing to this that Socrates was so long confined in prison after sentence of death had been passed upon him.

Theseus was believed to have given the Athenians his countenance and aid at the battle of Marathon, and a few years afterwards they were commanded by the Delphian oracle to bring back his bones from the island of Scyros, where he had met a violent death. The injunction was obeyed in 469 B.C. by Cimon, the son of Miltiades, who discovered a gigantic skeleton, and brought it to Athens amid great rejoicing. It was then reinterred in a sanctuary devoted to Theseus’ memory, which is often mentioned by subsequent Greek writers, and afforded a refuge within its spacious precincts to the poor and oppressed, whether bond or free, who felt themselves to be in danger. Unfortunately the historical references to this sanctuary, as well as the fact that it was in honour of a hero, not of a god, forbid us to identify it with the noble Doric temple standing between the Areopagus and the Agora or Market-place, which is now commonly known as the Theseum. The probability is that the latter building was a temple in honour of HephÆstus or of HephÆstus and Athena. It is built of white Pentelic marble, with thirty-four columns in all, the sculptures on it being of Parian marble, and is second only to the Parthenon in majestic beauty. Traces of the bright red and blue colouring, which was used even in the decoration of marble, can be distinctly seen; and part of the coffered roof is still in position, adorned with painted stars. During the Middle Ages it was turned into a church dedicated to St. George, and it is doubtless owing to this cause that it still survives in such an excellent state of preservation.

For centuries before the time of Theseus the Acropolis had been the seat of a civilisation not much inferior to that of MycenÆ. Homer speaks of a “well-built house of Erectheus” to which Athena used to repair; and on the Acropolis, under what is believed to have been the earliest temple of Athena, part of the foundations of a palace, apparently similar in plan to those of MycenÆ and Tiryns, has been discovered. The fortifications, too, are very similar, and there is a long inner staircase leading to a postern in the northern wall that corresponds to those found in the ancient structures referred to. There is another prehistoric name with which tradition connects the primitive history of Athens, and on account of which it was sometimes called Cecropia. According to some, Cecrops came from Egypt; according to others he was autochthonous (as the Athenians claimed to be), and had the appearance of being half man and half serpent.

Amid these conflicting mythical traditions it was generally agreed that the last king of Athens was Codrus, who was said to be a descendant of Ion, the head of the Ionic branch of the Hellenic race, the latter name being derived from Hellen, the grandfather of Ion. When the Dorians invaded Attica, after taking possession of the Peloponnesus, they were informed by a Pythian oracle that if the life of Codrus were spared they would gain possession of the country. Codrus became aware of this, and in order to save his country he went out one day in disguise and provoked a quarrel with some of the enemy, who put him to death. As soon as this became known to the Dorians they abandoned the hope of conquest, and contented themselves with annexing Megara. By a strange process of reasoning the grateful subjects of the self-sacrificing king straightway abolished the monarchy, on the ground that it would be impossible to find any one worthy to sit on the throne of so noble a sovereign! The name of Codrus was not the only name in the early history of Athens that was associated with patriotic self-devotion. Long before, one of the three daughters of Cecrops, Agraulos, was said to have leapt from the Acropolis as a voluntary sacrifice, when it was declared by the oracle that there was no other means of bringing a war which had been long going on to a successful issue. Her name was given to a grotto on the north, near the spot on which she met her death; and it was there that the Athenian youth, when they reached manhood, offered sacrifice and swore to be faithful to their country even unto death.

After the death of Codrus the office of archon was instituted as an office for life, tenable by the leading member of the royal family. The late king’s two sons, Medon and Neileus, quarrelled about the succession, and the latter emigrated with a large portion of the population to Asia Minor, where he founded the Ionic Amphictyony of twelve cities, extending from Miletus to PhocÆa. For about 300 years the archonship continued to be held for life; but after that the tenure of office was changed to ten years, and at a still later period it became an annual appointment, and was thrown open to the eupatrids or nobles. Ultimately it became a collegiate charge, being held by nine men simultaneously, who divided the functions of government among them.

Towards the end of the seventh century B.C. a legislator came upon the scene in the person of Draco, whose name has become a synonym for severity, though it would seem that what he did was to codify existing laws and customs rather than to introduce new regulations. Even at an earlier period laws had been reduced to writing among the Epizephyrian Locrians of Italy by Zaleucus at the bidding of the Delphian oracle, for the purpose of restoring order in the state. The system adopted was of the nature of the lex talionis. Severe measures were doubtless needed, for it was these Locrians who got the better of the natives by taking a mutual oath with them to the effect that the two peoples should be allowed to enjoy the land in common, so long as they stood upon this earth (such were the terms of the oath) and had heads on their

shoulders. In order that they might be able to destroy the validity of the covenant, they had put earth into their shoes and concealed heads of garlic on their shoulders, believing that as soon as these things were removed the oath would lose its binding force. In order to discourage rash attempts at legislation the same people enacted that any one proposing a new law should appear before the assembly with a rope round his neck, which was to be immediately tightened if he failed to get his proposal adopted!

About this time an attempt was made by Cylon, a wealthy and distinguished citizen of Athens, to obtain supreme power, with the help of his father-in-law, the ruler of Megara. He succeeded in taking possession of the Acropolis, but the citizens rose against him and compelled him to flee the country. His followers, who were left in the citadel, took refuge in the temple of Athena, but they were induced to quit the sanctuary by a promise that their lives would be spared. As an additional security, however, they fastened a cord to the image of the goddess and kept hold of it as they withdrew from the Acropolis. Unfortunately the cord broke before they had gained a place of safety; and the citizens, regarding this as a token that Athena had deserted the fugitives, attacked and slew them. The outrage was aggravated by the fact that some of them were put to death in the sanctuary of the Eumenides at the side of the Areopagus. The archon who was chiefly responsible for the perfidious and profane slaughter was Megacles, the head of the AlcmÆonid family, which was in consequence regarded as polluted. A pestilence from which the city afterwards suffered was popularly attributed to the displeasure of the gods on this account. In order to remove the curse the members of the family who were still alive were banished, and the bones of those who had since died were dug up and transported beyond the frontier. Epimenides, the diviner, was also sent for from Crete, and under his direction new sanctuaries were erected, and new rites of purification introduced.

There was now a general feeling that means should be taken to put the civil and political affairs of the country on a better footing. Fortunately a man appeared who was eminently fitted to do the work of a reformer. Although belonging to an illustrious house, Solon was at the same time possessed of broad sympathies and democratic views, which he is supposed to have derived from his experience as a traveller and his interest in commercial pursuits. His patriotism was equal to his wisdom, and the first thing that won for him the admiration and affection of his fellow-citizens was the fearless enthusiasm with which he appealed to them to make a fresh attempt to regain Salamis from the Megarians. The island had been so completely abandoned by the Athenians that they had decreed the penalty of death against any one who should attempt to rekindle the war, which had proved disastrous. The success which attended Solon in this movement doubtless added to his reputation, and disposed the citizens to give a favourable reception to his legislative

proposals. Among other changes which he introduced was the abolition of a cruel law by which insolvent debtors were liable to be enslaved along with their families; and in the political sphere he laid the foundations of the democratic constitution which was destined to contribute so largely to the greatness of Athens. He resisted all temptations to take power into his own hands—to the surprise of some, who thought he “should have hauled up the net when he had the fish enmeshed in it.” Unfortunately his self-denying spirit was not shared by all his countrymen, and he had the mortification of seeing his work to a great extent frustrated by one of his own friends, Peisistratus by name, whose success as a usurper was as much due to guile as to force. Posing as a friend of the people he presented himself one day in the market-place bleeding from self-inflicted wounds, which he pretended he had received at the hands of his political enemies, whereupon one of his partisans appealed for a bodyguard of fifty men to protect him, which was granted. With their assistance he soon made himself master of the Acropolis, and, by a stratagem, deprived the citizens of their arms. Although his rule was comparatively mild, and was signalised by some useful public enterprises, he was twice driven from the country. After his second restoration he held his position for about fourteen years. On his death his three sons carried on the government for some years, but at length a plot was formed for their assassination by two young men, partly on public and partly on private grounds. The plot was not altogether successful, two of the despots being untouched. One of the assassins, Harmodius, was at once overpowered and put to death, and the other, Aristogeiton, also forfeited his life after being subjected to torture in the hope that he would betray the names of their accomplices. The dynasty became more unpopular than ever, owing to its increasing severity, and in a few years the surviving members of it were driven into exile. So highly was the conduct of the two tyrannicides, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, appreciated that their statues in bronze were erected in a prominent place between the Agora and the Acropolis, and for a long time it was forbidden to erect any others in the same place. The statues were carried off by Xerxes in the next century, but they were soon replaced by others of a similar kind; and after the earlier ones were recovered, the two groups stood side by side. Another monument of the conspiracy was to be seen in the Acropolis in the form of a tongueless lioness, representing a woman named LeÆna, who had been suspected of being in the plot, and was put to the torture, without divulging any name.

Within a generation afterwards the Athenians’ love of liberty and their readiness to die for it was demonstrated on a much grander scale, in their resistance of the Persian invader. It is said that the first time Darius heard of the Athenians was after the burning of Sardis, in which they rendered assistance to the Asiatic Ionians. On their name being mentioned to him Darius asked who they were, and, being told, he shot an arrow to the sky, and exclaimed, “O Zeus, grant me to revenge myself on these Athenians,” at the same time bidding an attendant to repeat in his hearing every day at dinner the words, “Remember the Athenians.” His generals, Datis and Artaphernes, now landed on the Attic shore with about 100,000 men, under the guidance of Hippias, who had accompanied his father Peisistratus by the same route to Athens nearly fifty years before, when he was returning from exile the second time to take possession of the city. But Athens was a very different community now from what it was then. It had enjoyed more than twenty years of self-government, and its citizens were now united as one man in the determination to resist the eastern despot to the uttermost. Seldom has a more heroic stand been taken by any nation in defence of its liberties. The Persians had hitherto been regarded as invincible, and their numerical superiority was overwhelming. But the Athenians did not for a moment hesitate. They at once despatched a swift messenger to Sparta appealing for assistance, who is said to have accomplished the journey of 150 miles in forty-eight hours. But the Spartans were slow to move, owing to their superstitious dependence on the full moon, for which they had to wait five days. No other Greeks shared in the glory of the occasion, except 1000 soldiers from PlatÆa, whose generous and timely succour won the undying gratitude of the Athenians, and was annually mentioned at the anniversary services which were regularly held to celebrate the victory. Of the ten Athenian generals who were in command of the forces it fell to Miltiades to act as chief. If his advice had been taken by the Ionians who were left in charge of the bridge which they had built over the Danube for Darius shortly before, the invasion of Greece would have been averted. The sixty days during which Darius had ordered them to preserve the bridge for his return had expired, and Darius was beset with difficulties in Scythia, which would soon have overwhelmed him; but the Ionian leaders refused to destroy the bridge, as Miltiades advised—for the selfish reason that their tenure of power in their respective cities depended on Persian support. Darius was thus saved, and his cruel conquest of Eretria was the result—the prelude, as it seemed, of a like fate for Athens and for all Greece.

The distance from Athens to Marathon is about 25 miles, by the road taken by the troops, which was the same as is followed by the modern traveller. The length of the plain is about six miles and its breadth a mile and a half, with a marsh at each end. The Persians had disembarked and were drawn up in the plain at a considerable distance from the shore. The Greeks appear to have taken up a position a little in front of the amphitheatre of rocky hills which encloses the plain on the north and west. It was the first time the Athenians had ever met the dreaded Medes in battle array; but throwing aside all fear they raised the war-cry and set off at a run, which was facilitated by the slight declivity of the ground, bearing down upon

the enemy with such force as to compel them to give way at both wings, where their ranks were weakest and those of the Greeks strongest. Instead of pursuing the fugitives the victorious wings supported their own centre by attacking the enemy from the flanks and rear, putting them into confusion and causing a panic. The whole Persian host was soon in full flight to their ships, but in their ignorance of the country many of them were caught in the marshes and never reached the shore. According to Herodotus more than 6000 of them lost their lives. Comparatively few prisoners were taken, as the attempts of the Greeks to capture or burn the ships were attended with little success; but rich spoils, in the form of tents and other equipments, fell into their hands. As the fleet was sailing away towards Cape Sunium a flashing shield was seen on a height above the plain, which was supposed to be a traitorous signal given to the Persians to sail round to Athens and take possession of the city in the absence of its defenders. Miltiades was equal to the occasion. By dint of the most strenuous exertions he and his troops reached Athens before the enemy could carry out his plan, and the fleet soon set sail for the Cyclades. Next day the Athenians went out again, to bury their dead comrades—192 in number—and erected a tumulus over them, which may still be seen, along with a separate mound for the PlatÆans, and one for the slaves who had served as unarmed or half-armed attendants. Ten columns were afterwards set up, bearing the names of the dead, according to their several tribes, with a special monument to Miltiades; and Pausanias, who lived 600 years later, mentions having read the names. It would scarcely be possible to over-estimate the importance of the battle of Marathon in Greek history. It virtually saved the country from being overrun by oriental barbarism, and gave the world a signal proof for all time that the military strength of a people depends more on their animating spirit than on their numbers, and that it is possible for a comparatively small nation to preserve its independence if its citizens be united and resolute in devotion to the common cause. The event must have made an enormous impression, when even such an illustrious poet as Æschylus regarded it as the greatest honour of his life that he had fought at Marathon, and left directions that that fact, and no other, should be recorded on his tomb.

Ten years later the same peril reappeared in a still more threatening form, and again the men of Athens covered themselves with glory. It might have been expected that when Xerxes and his immense host approached the city they would have prepared for a siege. But the numbers of the enemy were so immense that, if they had remained within the walls, it would only have been a question of time when they would have had to surrender. In their distress they appealed to the Delphian oracle for advice, but the first response was of a most depressing nature. They were told to quit their “wheel-shaped city” and flee to the ends of the earth. A second appeal, which they made in the form of suppliants, elicited the assurance that when everything else in the land of Cecrops was taken, Zeus would grant to Athena the preservation of a wooden wall to be a sure defence to the Athenians and their children. Under the astute guidance of Themistocles they came to the conclusion that it was their ships that were referred to. A few of them, however, mostly too old or too poor to have much prospect of a welcome elsewhere, put a different construction on the oracle, and took refuge in the Acropolis, strengthening its defences by the erection of wooden palisades. They succeeded in holding the fortress for a time, in spite of the arrows with burning tow attached which the Persians poured in upon them from their position on the Areopagus. The assailants found it impossible to force their way up against the great stones which were rolled down upon them from the western entrance, and it was not till they discovered a secret ascent on the north side of the rock that they got the better of the defenders by taking them unawares, and became masters of the fortress. A remorseless work of destruction then ensued, involving the temples and other buildings on the Acropolis in the same fate as had befallen, or was soon to befall, the best of the houses in the city, and its walls. It seemed to the Athenians a terrible calamity at the time, but it proved to be a blessing in disguise, for it led to the restoration of the city on a scale of grandeur unknown before, and made the Acropolis one of the wonders of the world. The naval operations, also, to which they were obliged to have recourse, crowned as these were by the glorious victory at Salamis, opened their eyes to the possibility of a great naval empire, and led them to turn to account the advantages to be derived from their harbours at the PirÆus, by not only equipping them with docks but also fortifying them and connecting them with Athens by means of the long walls, completed in the next generation by Pericles.

Most of the Athenians had taken refuge in the adjoining island of Salamis (the ancient home of Ajax), partly owing to an allusion to it in the second Delphian oracle. “Divine Salamis,” it was said, “would destroy many sons of women”; and this, Themistocles held, could only refer to a slaughter of the enemy. Although almost all the powers in southern Greece were acting in concert with Athens in resisting Xerxes, the Peloponnesians were disposed to fall back on their line of defence at the isthmus of Corinth; and it was with the greatest difficulty that Themistocles prevailed on them to take part in the engagement at Salamis. When it seemed that nothing else would serve his purpose he sent a secret message to Xerxes, as if he were turning traitor to his country, urging him to prevent the escape of the Greeks when he had them at his mercy. The ruse succeeded. During the night the Persians stationed ships at the two ends of the straits to prevent the egress of the Greeks, and also landed a body of men on the small island of Psyttaleia, at the south-eastern outlet, in case the enemy should

seek a refuge in what proved to be their own tomb. In the morning the two fleets confronted each other, the Greek vessels lying under the crescent-shaped coast of the island of Salamis, to the number of more than 300, while the Persian ships, about three times as numerous, took up their position along the Attic coast. Behind the latter their army was drawn up near the shore to enjoy a sight of the expected victory, while Xerxes himself, for the same purpose, occupied a rising ground, which is still known as Xerxes’ Seat, sitting on a silver-footed throne, which was captured by the enemy and afterwards exhibited on the Acropolis. On this occasion the courage was not all on the part of the Greeks, for they were very cautious for a while, and many of the Persians and their Phoenician and Ionic allies fought bravely. But partly owing to the want of concert among the invaders, and the unwieldiness of their immense fleet in the narrow waters, which soon led to confusion, and partly to the superior naval skill of the Greeks, the great king had the mortification of beholding the destruction of about 200 of his ships of war and the capture or flight of many more, while the Greeks escaped with the loss of forty ships. Xerxes was so completely unmanned by the unexpected defeat, and so afraid that the bridge over the Hellespont might be destroyed before he got across, that he immediately took his departure. But in quitting Europe he sent back his general Mardonius with 300,000 men to effect the conquest of Greece. Attica was again ravaged, and the destruction of Athens was rendered still more complete. Tempting overtures were made to the Athenians by the Persian general for their submission, and great alarm was felt in Sparta and elsewhere lest these overtures should be accepted. But the Athenians did not for a moment entertain them. “Tell Mardonius,” was their memorable answer, “that as long as the sun shall continue in his present path, we will never contract alliance with Xerxes: we will encounter him in our own defence, putting our trust in the aid of those gods and heroes to whom he has shown no reverence, and whose houses and statues he has burned.” Their faith was soon justified by the victory of the allied forces at PlatÆa and the naval success which was achieved the same day at Mycale. All fears of Persian conquest were dispelled; and the Athenians returned from their temporary exile, to devote themselves to the restoration of their city with a spirit and an energy which betokened the great future in store for them.

Beyond Salamis, about twenty miles south from PirÆus, lies the island of Ægina, one of the many interesting features in the view from the Acropolis. It was revered as the ancient seat of Æacus, the grandfather of Achilles and Ajax, who was accounted in his day to be the most pious of mankind. In historical times it was inhabited chiefly by a Dorian colony from Epidaurus. Up to the time of the Persian invasion Corinth was its only rival in Greece as a naval and commercial centre; but it played an ignoble part in complying with Darius’ demands for earth and water when Athens and Sparta received the insulting message with such indignation as to put the Persian envoys to death. On the approach of Xerxes the Æginetans had endeavoured to redeem their character by joining in the preparations for resistance; and in the battle of Salamis they had taken such a distinguished part as to be awarded the first prize for valour, the second prize going to the Athenians. On that occasion two prizes were also given for the greatest skill and wisdom; and it illustrates the self-esteem and love of honour of which the Greeks seem to have had more than an ordinary share, that when the votes were examined it was found that each of the leaders had put down his own name for the first prize, and that of Themistocles for the second!

Pericles described Ægina as the “eyesore of the PirÆus,” and the history of the relations between the two powers for many years after the battle of Salamis, as well as for a few years before it, amply justifies the observation. After many fierce struggles Ægina was reduced to subjection, its fleets confiscated, and its fortifications destroyed. On the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war the Athenians, in order to guard against the possibility of the island being used by the enemy, expelled its inhabitants, who found a refuge in Thyrea, which was placed at their disposal by the Spartans. Even there, however, they were not left in peace. For in the eighth year of the war the place was attacked and captured by the Athenians, and the inhabitants were taken to Athens, where they were put to death as prisoners of war. According to Herodotus the sad reverses which thus befell the Æginetans were due to an impiety of which they had been guilty many years before. The solitary survivor of a band of conspirators had fled for refuge to the temple of Demeter and succeeded in laying hold of the handle of the door before he was overtaken. His pursuers did not dare to slay him while he was thus in contact with the sanctuary, but in order to sever his connection with it and deprive him of the protection of the goddess, they cut off his arm at the wrist and then killed him, leaving the hand still grasping the handle, where it long remained. With this we may compare the conduct of the Spartans when Pausanias, the commander at PlatÆa, was called to account for the treasonable designs into which, in his overweening pride, he had entered with Persia. He took refuge in the temple of Athena Chalcioecus, on learning that a confidential slave had betrayed him. The ephors immediately built up the doors and took off the roof, keeping watch over the refugee, and carrying him out at the last moment, that the sacred precinct might not be polluted by his death. Both cases are curious illustrations of the way in which men will try at times to evade their religious obligations without giving up their form of godliness. The divine anger in the case of the Spartans was only appeased by the dedication of two bronze statues to Athena in obedience to the Delphian oracle.

On the break-up of the Athenian empire, after the battle of Ægospotami, a remnant of the former Dorian

inhabitants of Ægina was brought back by the Spartans, and the Athenian settlers were expelled. But in spite of the occasional success of their naval strategy, by which they took the PirÆus once or twice completely by surprise, the Æginetans never recovered any considerable degree of their former prosperity.

At the present day the chief attraction which Ægina has to offer to the traveller, over and above the pleasant sail from the PirÆus, with its interesting points of view, is a Doric temple of the sixth century or even earlier, standing in solitary grandeur, on the summit of a hill which commands a beautiful view of the plain of Attica on the north and the Argolic peninsula on the west. It was once thought to be the temple of Zeus described by Pausanias, but latterly it has been identified as the temple of Athena mentioned by Herodotus. Within the last few years, however, a new theory has been put forth by Professor FÜrtwangler, who holds it to be the temple of AphÆa mentioned by Pausanias, a goddess nearly related to Artemis as a protector of women. In any case the twenty columns still standing form an imposing monument, and are well worthy of a visit, though the sculptures on the pediments are no longer to be seen, having been purchased by the King of Bavaria and deposited in the museum at Munich.