upon a mast. Some concealed machinery
caused this car to move; but whether it passed through the Propylaea,
and entered the Acropolis, admits of doubt. It is, however, certain
that the procession which ascended those steep slabs, and before
whom the vast gates of the Propylaea swang open with the clangour of
resounding bronze, included not only the citizens of Athens and
their attendant aliens, but also troops of cavalry and chariots; for
the mark of chariot-wheels can still be traced upon the rock. The
ascent is so abrupt that this multitude moved but slowly. Splendid
indeed, beyond any pomp of modern ceremonial, must have been the
spectacle of the well-ordered procession, advancing through those
giant colonnades to the sound of flutes and solemn chants--the
shrill clear voices of boys in antiphonal chorus rising above the
confused murmurs of such a crowd, the chafing of horses' hoofs upon
the stone, and the lowing of bewildered oxen.

[1] My purpose being merely picturesque, I have ignored
the grave antiquarian difficulties which beset the
interpretation of this frieze.

To realise by fancy the many-coloured radiance of the temples, and
the rich dresses of the votaries illuminated by that sharp light of
a Greek sun, which defines outline and shadow and gives value to the
faintest hue, would be impossible. All we can know for positive
about the chromatic decoration of the Greeks is, that whiteness
artificially subdued to the tone of ivory prevailed throughout the
stonework of the buildings, while blue and red and green in
distinct, yet interwoven patterns, added richness to the fretwork
and the sculpture of pediment and frieze. The sacramental robes of
the worshippers accorded doubtless with this harmony, wherein colour
was subordinate to light, and light was toned to softness.

Musing thus upon the staircase of the Propylaea, we may say with
truth that all our modern art is but child's play to that of the
Greeks. Very soul-subduing is the gloom of a cathedral like the
Milanese Duomo, when the incense rises in blue clouds athwart the
bands of sunlight falling from the dome, and the crying of choirs
upborne upon the wings of organ music fills the whole vast space
with a mystery of melody. Yet such ceremonial pomps as this are as
dreams and the shapes of visions, when compared with the clearly
defined splendours of a Greek procession through marble peristyles
in open air beneath the sun and sky. That spec