Is it poetry? At once there seems to rise before us from these waters, which encircled him at birth and death, the face of Homer,—the father of poetry. To whom has he not been a joy and inspiration? Virgil was but the pupil and imitator of Homer. And the Iliad and Odyssey are still such storehouses of eloquence and beauty, that such statesmen as Gladstone and the Earl of Derby have sharpened their keen intellects in making their translations.
Is it philosophy? "Out of Plato," says Emerson, "come all things that are still written and debated among men of thought."
The lesson, then, which Athens teaches us is this: not to regard past men, past deeds, and ruined shrines as dead and useless limbs upon the Tree of Time. The Past has made the Present, just as the Present is now fashioning Futurity. Moreover, since one lofty sentiment begets another; one valiant deed inspires a second; and one sublime achievement is a stepping-stone to loftier heights; what portion of our earth can give to us more inspiration than Athens,—birthplace of the earliest masterpieces of the human race, the mother of imperishable memories, and of an art that conquers time.
[Illustration: STATUE OF VICTOR EMANUEL.]
Venice is still victorious over Time. Despite her age, the City of the Sea is fascinating still. She has successfully defied a dozen centuries; she may perhaps defy as many more. All other cities in the world resemble one another. Venice remains unique. She is the City of Romance—the only place on earth to-day where Poetry conquers Prose. The marriage of the Adriatic and its bride has never been dissolved. She is to-day, as she has been for fourteen hundred years, a capital whose streets are water and whose vehicles are boats. She is an incomparable illustration of the poetical and the picturesque; and, were she nothing else, would still attract the world. But she is infinitely more. The hands of Titian and Tintoretto have embellished her. She wears upon her breast some architectural jewels unsurpassed in Italy. And, finally, the splendor of her history enfolds her like the glory of her golden sunsets, and she emerges from the waves of Time, that have repeatedly endeavored to engulf her, as do her marble palaces from the encircling sea.