Kitabı oku: «Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 56, No. 346, August, 1844», sayfa 10
One of the ablest scholars who has written on the subject of this canal, has advanced the opinion, that Nekos, the king of Egypt, who, Herodotus mentions, undertook the completion of this work, borrowed the idea of his project from the Greeks. Monsieur Letronne conjectures that he only imitated the plan, which is attributed to Periander, of having designed to cut through the isthmus of Corinth. Willing as we are to concede a great deal to Grecian genius, we are compelled to protest against the probability of the Egyptians having borrowed any project of canalization from the Greeks. We own we should entertain very great doubts whether Periander had ever uttered so much as a random phrase about cutting through the isthmus of Corinth, were it not that there are some historical grounds for believing that he was a professed imitator of Egypt. He had a nephew named Psammetichus, who must have been so called after the father of Nekos.48 All projects for making canals in Greece had a foreign origin, from the time Periander imitated Egyptian fashions, down to the days of the Bavarian regency, which talked about making a ship canal from the Piraeus to Athens, and instructed a commission to draw up a plan of canalization for the Hellenic kingdom, where every thing necessary is wanting—even to the water. The earlier projectors who proposed to cut through the isthmus of Corinth, after Periander, were the Macedonian adventurer Demetrius Poliorcetes, and the Romans, Julius Caesar, Caligula, Nero, and Herodes Atticas.49 We should not be surprised to see this notable project revived, or to hear that the Greeks were on the point of sinking new shafts at the silver mines of Laurium. A joint-stock company, either for the one or the other, would be quite as profitable to the capitalists engaged as the scheme of making sugar from beet-root at Thermopylae, which has found some unfortunate shareholders, both at Athens and Paris. Travellers, scholars, and antiquaries, would undoubtedly take more interest in the progress of the canal, and of the silver mine, than in the confection of the sugar.
There was another canal in Greece which proved a sad stumbling-block to the Roman satirist Juvenal, whose unlucky accusation of "lying Greece," is founded on his own ignorance of a fact recorded by Herodotus and Thucydides.
—"Creditur olim
Velificatus Athos, et quicquid Graecia mendax
Audet in historia."
The words of Herodotus and Thucydides, would leave no doubt of Xerxes having made a canal through the isthmus to the north of Mount Athos, in the mind of any but a Roman.50 But since there are modern travellers as ready to distrust the ancients, as a gentleman we once encountered at Athens was to doubt the moderns, we shall quote better evidence than any Greek. Our acquaintance of the Athenian inn, who had a very elegant appearance, appealed to us to confirm the Graecia mendax, saying, he had just returned from Marathon, and his guide had been telling him far greater lies than he ever heard from an Italian cicerone. "The fellow had the impudence to say, that his countrymen had defeated 500,000 Persians in the plain he showed me," said the gentleman in green. "Let alone the number—that fable might be pardoned—but he thought me such an egregious ass as not to know that the war was with the Turks, and not with the Persians at all." We bowed in amazement to find our English friend more ignorant than Juvenal. We shall now transcribe the observations of Colonel Leake, the most sharp-sighted and learned of the modern travellers who have visited the isthmus of Mount Athos:—"The modern name of this neck of land is próvlaka, evidently the Romanic form of the word [Greek: proaulax], having reference to the canal in front of the peninsula of Athos, which crossed the isthmus, and was excavated by Xerxes. It is a hollow between natural banks, which are well described by Herodotus as [Greek: kolônoi ou megaloi], the highest points of them being scarcely 100 feet above the sea. The lowest part of the hollow is only a few feet higher than that level. About the middle of the isthmus, where the bottom is highest, are some traces of the ancient canal; where the ground is lower, it is indicated only by hollows, now filled with water in consequence of the late rains. The canal seems to have been not more than sixty feet wide. As history does not mention that it was ever kept in repair after the time of Xerxes, the waters from the heights around have naturally filled it in part with soil in the course of ages. It might, however, without much labour, be renewed; and there can be no doubt that it would be useful to the navigation of the Egean, such is the fear entertained by the Greek boatmen of the strength and uncertain direction of the currents around Mount Athos."51
THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER
I
I'll sing you a new song, that should make your heart beat high,
Bring crimson to your forehead, and the lustre to your eye;—
It is a song of olden time, of days long since gone by,
And of a Baron stout and bold, as e'er wore sword on thigh!
Like a brave old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
II
He kept his castle in the north, hard by the thundering Spey;
And a thousand vassals dwelt around, all of his kindred they.
And not a man of all that clan had ever ceased to pray
For the Royal race they loved so well, though exiled far away
From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers, all of the olden time.
III
His father drew the righteous sword for Scotland and her claims,
Among the loyal gentlemen and chiefs of ancient names,
Who swore to fight or fall beneath the standard of King James,
And died at Killiecrankie pass, with the glory of the Graemes,
Like a true old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
IV
He never own'd the foreign rule, no master he obey'd,
But kept his clan in peace at home, from foray and from raid;
And when they ask'd him for his oath, he touch'd his glittering
blade,
And pointed to his bonnet blue that bore the white cockade,
Like a leal old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
V
At length the news ran through the land—THE PRINCE had come again!
That night the fiery cross was sped o'er mountain and through glen;
And our old Baron rose in might, like a lion from his den,
And rode away across the hills to Charlie and his men,
With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, all of the olden time!
VI
He was the first that bent the knee when THE STANDARD waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe on Preston's bloody sod;
And ever, in the van of fight, the foremost still he trod,
Until, on bleak Culloden's heath, he gave his soul to God,
Like a good old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
VII
Oh! never shall we know again a heart so stout and true—
The olden times have pass'd away, and weary are the new:
The fair White Rose has faded from the garden where it grew,
And no fond tears but those of heaven the glorious bed bedew
Of the last old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
W.E.A.
TRADITIONS AND TALES OF UPPER LUSATIA
No. III
THE DWARF'S WELL
We have been shown, in our two preceding pieces from Ernst Willkomm, Pathetic Fairies, and Fairies merry to rioting. Here we have, not without merriment either, Working Fairies. In the mines of the Upper Lusatian Belief, the tale of THE DWARF'S WELL strikes into a vein which our author has promised us, but of which we have not heretofore handled the ore. Here we shall see the imagination touching in some deeper sterner colours to the sketches flung forth by the fancy; and in the spirit of unreal creation, a wild self-will which rejoices to waft into the presence of the beautiful, and of unbridled laughter, cold blasts from the region of pure affright. There is in this, however, no prostration of strength—quite the reverse! Not a nervous and enfeebled sensibility, yielding itself up to a diseased taste for pain.—No child fascinated with fear, and straining its eyes to take in more horror. But here the unconquerable consciousness of strong life throws itself with an unmastered glee of battle, right into the thick of its mortal adversaries, to slay, and strip, and bind to its own triumphant chariot-wheels.
The Upper Lusatian Highlander, turned poet, dreaming at his discretion, amuses himself with converting terror and madness into merriment, and reconciles conflicting elements of invention—with an overpowering harmony?—No. But, by subjugating them all alike to one imperious lord, viz. to himself;—to his own pleasure. Hence, in the Traditions and Tales, in which he embodies his illusory creed of the Invisible, there is engendered an esthetical species, which waits, perhaps, for a name with us, and might accept that of the Ghastly, or at least, of the Ghostly-Humorous, the Gay-Horrible. The story of the PRIEST'S WELL soars boldly upon this pinion; that of the WILL-O'-THE-WISP HUSSAR has gone stark-raving in the same grimly-mirthful temper. The mind in which Burns imagined and chaunted his TAM-O'-SHANTER, is right down Upper Lusatian, in this key. Our Elves, however, are not yet witches.
The kinds of the spirits confine, upon every side, with one another, and the boundary lines vanish. Within the circumscription of the Fairy domain, an indeterminable difference appears betwixt the truest Fairies and the Dwarfs. The two sorts, or the two names, are sometimes brought into glaring opposition. Again, like factions made friends, they blend for a time indistinguishably. So, in the Persian belief, the ugly Dios, who may represent the Dwarfs of our west, are—under one aspect of the Fable—the implacable cannibal foes—under another,—the loving spouses of the beautiful Peris. Comparing the Fairies of our two former tales, and the Dwarfs of this, the reader will probably see in THOSE, the daintier, the more delicate: in THESE, a little more hardness of nature.
The great length of the story precludes all thoughts (be the opportunities what they may, and these are not deficient) of bringing its illustration from other expositors—Teutonic or otherwise-of the Fairy Lore.
THE DWARF'S WELL
"Nicholas Stringstriker was the most popular ale-house fiddler for a good twenty miles round, and consequently quite indispensable at all christenings, marriages, and wakes. Klaus knew this as well as every body else, and, like a wise man, did the best he could to turn his popularity to account—the more so, poor fellow! because he was obliged to put up with all kinds of ridicule and teasing. Stringstriker, you must know, was a most comical little fellow, with very small thin bandy legs, that had to bear the burden of a huge square trunk, which, in its turn, supported a big head that was for ever waggling to and fro, without affording the slightest indication of a neck. The entire little man measured exactly three feet five inches and an eighth, and he was best known to his acquaintance by the name of Dwarf-fiddler or Dwarf-piper; for the little gentleman smoked away for his life, and liked nothing better.
"So misshapen a figure, it may readily be supposed, made a very good target for the shafts of mockery. Nicholas, however, troubled himself but little about them; and it was small complaint you heard from him so long as he was well paid, got his savoury morsel, and, above all, a liberal supply of his choice favourite—Tobacco. True, folks might now and then, as the saying is, draw the cord too tight and be too hard upon the scraper; and then Klaus, like most deformed creatures, had wit and venom enough at his command, and could rid himself right easily of his tormentors.
"The Dwarf—it might be to render himself thoroughly independent, or, more likely still, to surround his diminutive individuality with an air of mystery—had abandoned his birth-place, and established himself about two miles away from it, near a singularly-formed sandstone rock, situated in a small but exceedingly pretty fir-wood, and commonly known by the name of the Bear's church. Here he spent his quiet life, wholly engaged in the practice of his art. Travellers taking their road by night, and in calm weather, from Bertsdorf to Hörnitz or over the Breitenberg to Gross-schönau were arrested by the exquisite strains, now touchingly plaintive, now joyously merry, that poured from Klaus's magical instrument; and many a happy soul, allured by the enchanting melody, lingered within sound of it, until wholly subdued and rendered powerless by awe and superstitious fear. Although by day the fiddler was visible to none, yet by night he was often seen waddling out of the wood and over the fields, on his way to a clear spring, whence he drew water for his housekeeping, which—to add to the mystery that he delighted to create—he doggedly looked after himself. This spring belonged to a substantial farmer in Bertsdorf, named Michael Simon, though called by the people Twirling-stick Mike, in commemoration of his cutting down yearly in his wood a handsome quantity of young trees, which he afterwards manufactured into twirling-sticks. Simon not only was master of a good farm, but proprietor likewise of the village tavern, in which he gave a dance every Sunday, taking care to secure for the festivity the services of Stringstriker, to whose fiddle, it was well known, the lads and lasses invariably danced an hour longer than to that of any other scraper in the country.
"The visits of Stringstriker to the well were a continual vexation to the farmer. The Dwarf asked no man's permission to draw his water, but helped himself as often and as liberally as he thought proper, without the slightest regard to the wants of other people, which were often left unsatisfied by his wantonness and extravagance. It was in consequence of this audacious appropriation, that the spring by degrees acquired the name of THE DWARF'S WELL. Countless were the complaints and menaces of Mike—numberless the promised threshings, if he did not give up his thieving; but the effect of them all upon Klaus was to make him laugh outright, fill his pipe, and strike up a jolly tune upon his fiddle.
"Now it happened that Twirling-stick Mike held a christening, and he not only asked the Dwarf as a guest to the feast, but actually went so far as to invite the creature to stand godfather to his child. Klaus was mightily pleased with the honour, and behaved like a gentleman on the occasion. He made his godson a handsome present, and promised to do a good deal more for him, stipulating only that the child, being a boy, should be named Nicholas after himself.
"There was a merry party at the christening, and at first matters went on smoothly and comfortably enough; but as the eating, and drinking, and dancing advanced, quips and cranks became very plentiful, and the greater number, as might be expected, were flung, and not very lightly, at the head of poor Stringstriker. The fiddler for a time received his cuffs very manfully—but they grew intolerable at last. First, his legs were criticised—then his lank withered arms; even his fiddling was disparaged, and he himself pronounced highly indecorous, because he persisted in smoking his pipe all the while he scraped.
"'Klaus, Klaus!' said the master of the house, his sides shaking with laughter, 'if you don't forswear smoking this very instant, your sponsorship sha'n't stand. As sure as my name is Twirling-stick Mike, I won't allow it; and the boy shall be called Michael after his father.'
"Klaus laughed too, went on smoking, and tuned his fiddle.
"'Did you hear what I said, you bandy-legged Dwarf-piper?' bawled Simon, in continuation.
"Klaus laid his fiddle aside.
"'Gossip!' said he, in a tone of meaning, 'keep within bounds—within bounds, I say—and don't force me for once to fiddle to an ugly tune. I am your boy's godfather; his name is Klaus, and Klaus he shall be called amongst my children!'
"The whole company simultaneously broke out into loud laughter, and exclaimed with one voice—
"'Amongst his children!'
"'Why, where have you left your respectable better-half, then?' asked Simon, 'and what wench ever gave herself up to two such noble shanks?
Where, in Heaven's name, Klaus, was the parson ordained that trusted a poor woman to you for better or worse?'
"The Dwarf smoked away, and could hardly be seen through the cloud that enveloped him.
"'Idiots!' he murmured to himself, 'as if we lived like mere human Creatures'—
"'What's that you say?' asked Simon, interrupting him. 'Don't talk blasphemy, you heathenish imp, or'—
"'Be quiet, gossip!' returned the Dwarf, with a savage frown. 'Don't put me up, or I and my children may be troublesome to you and yours yet. You had better give me some more tobacco, for I love smoking, and so do my people!'
"'If he isn't cracked, I am a Turk!' exclaimed Simon. 'Pride has turned that added head of his quite round. Well, Heaven preserve me from a cracked godfather, any how!'
"'Body of me!' interposed an old boor, one of the party, 'what the crab says is true.'
"'True!' said Simon.
"'Yes! What, have you never heard of the Spirits and Dwarfs who, for thousands of years, have carried on their precious games in all kinds of underground pits and holes? Now, take my word for it, he has something to do with them. Klaus is just the fellow for the rogues. They make choice of a king once every fifty years—one of flesh and blood, like ourselves. His majesty must be shaped like a dwarf—that's quite necessary; but when he is lifted to the throne, the creatures heap upon him all sorts of wondrous gifts. They teach him to play the fiddle, flute, and clarinet like an angel. They put him up to the art of manufacturing wonderful clocks—of eclipsing the sun and moon, and all that kind of thing. They once had a dwarf king, a shoemaker, and that fellow never had his equal. Whenever he took it into his head, he would sit down, call for seventy thousand skins, and then set to work. How long do you suppose he was getting them out of hand? Why, in just one hour and a half the whole stock was manufactured. Shoes, gaiters, spatterdashes, jack-boots and bluchers for five hundred thousand men, and all their wives and children. You may believe it. There never was a chap that flung the things about as he did. And you may take my word for it, Klaus Stringstriker could do something too, if he chose. Why do you think he is so insolent and conceited, and presumes so much upon his playing and smoking? Why—just because these little earthmen are his familiars, and back him up in every thing!'
"'Oh, that's it—is it?' said Simon dryly. 'Klaus is King of the Dwarfs, is he? Then if that's the case, he shall perform a trick for us directly. Now I give you all warning, young and old, not to stop his pipe, or fill his glass again, till he fiddles himself into a fit, and glass and pipe replenish themselves!'
"Klaus remonstrated against the proceeding—but the guests were brimful of fun and mischief, and wouldn't listen to him. It was evident that nothing would satisfy the company but the exhibition of the misery to which they resolved to subject the unhappy knave forthwith. The Dwarf implored, threatened, cursed; he struck about him like a madman, screamed, roared, and struggled to escape; all in vain. The untractable little fellow was held fast, and then, amidst the jokes and gibes of the assembly, securely tied, with his fiddle in his hand, against the roof-tree of the room. Once pinned, there was no use in further resistance. The poor deformed creature had nothing better to do than to play, as commanded.
"And he did play, so touchingly and heartbreakingly, that the listeners were very soon in agonies before him. The eyes of the Dwarf rolled like little fire-balls in their cells—his cheeks grew paler and paler, and cold sweat poured down in a stream from his forehead. Nevertheless, he fiddled away incessantly—now merrily, now mournfully, now slowly, now quicker than ever. Every dancer had reason that night to thank his stars, if he left off without having thrown himself into a phthisic; for, when he once began, it was as easy for him to fly into the air as to come to a stand-still, until it pleased Klaus Stringstriker to make a pause with his fiddle.
"The horrible jest lasted till towards midnight, and then the tormentors were willing to grant their victim some indulgence. The fiddler was unbound, and he would have had to eat and drink, and his own dear pipe of tobacco would have been restored to him, had not the company immediately perceived to their astonishment that both his pipe and glass stood already filled before him, although not a single soul amongst them had lifted or touched either one or the other. If the guests had been riotous before, they were hushed and quiet enough now. And Klaus, too, struck up another tune instanter. He bowed ironically to the assembly, emptied his glass, lit his pipe, and tucked his fiddle under his arm.
"'Thank you, gossip!' said he, 'thank you kindly for your christening. I have enjoyed every thing—thoroughly; your compliments, your beer, your tobacco, and your sport! Rest assured, Mike, I shall quit scores with you, in good time, for all. As to my little godchild, you'll be pleased to call the boy Nicholas, that is to say, if you are not tired of your life. For yourself, Twirling-stick Mike,' he continued with a frown, 'depend upon it, you shall be settled, all in good time, very comfortably amongst my children. Meanwhile, Fare-you-well!'
"And with these words, the little fellow, repeating his scornful obeisance, hobbled away. He was heard to strike up a lively air, and some of the guests, whose curiosity took them out of doors, averred that he cut across the fields with supernatural swiftness, whilst there glittered around him a bright tremulous light, in which at times the tiniest phantoms were distinguishable.
"Whether this statement were really true, or whether a mere imagination, came never to be rightly known; and it is most likely that nothing more would have been said about it, if, on the following morning, the report had not run like a fire through the village, that the Dwarf-piper, in the night, had come to an untimely end, and was then lying as dead as mutton on Twirling-stick Mike's farm and field, with his fiddle jammed under his broad chin, and the bow still resting on the strings. Half the village, headed by the authorities, sallied forth upon the intelligence. Simon, you may be certain, was not long in following—and sure enough, there lay the poor Dwarf, dead upon the ground. His head was half immersed in the Dwarf's Well, which, in the dark, he had probably not observed. But whether or not, Klaus Stringstriker had been upset, and had stumbled, poor wretch, upon his death!
"It was very natural for Twirling-stick Mike to repent him suddenly of his wanton cruelty. The scoffing words of the dwarf rang in his ears, and he felt by no means easy. To make what amends he might to the deceased, he had him sumptuously buried at his own expense, with funeral oration, psalms, prayer, and benediction; and what is more, put up a very pretty monument to his memory, which, in very legible characters, made known the talents and virtues of the fiddler, and carried them down to remote posterity. The Dwarf, however, was scarcely in his grave, before all manner of strange reports were whispered about in the neighbourhood. In the first place, Twirling-stick Mike's garden was said to be haunted o' nights. Noises were heard and lights seen on the path crossing his fields; and you had only to stray into the vicinity of the Dwarf's Well to be forsaken at once of seeing and hearing. If Simon enquired more particularly into these worrying rumours, every body professed to know nothing at all of the matter. One man referred him to his neighbour, and he to the next; who, in his turn, protested that the whole was a heap of lies; or said any thing that seemed most likely to appease the farmer's anxious state of mind. Simon, troubled as he was by the absurd babbling of the people, was nevertheless unable to suppress it, or prevent its growth. Indeed there was a small chance of its diminishing, when, in less than two months, there was not a soul in the neighbourhood who could not swear that he had been a witness to most unearthly doings. There was no need of further mystery, of doubtful head-shaking, and ominous whispers—every one had seen Klaus Stringstriker near Twirling-stick Mike's house, playing his fiddle in the clear light of the moon. It was true, none could aver that he had heard a single note; but it was impossible to mistake his figure, and that had been seen, time after time, gliding in from the adjoining field, making the tour of Simon's house, and exhibiting all the gesticulations of a violin-player. Many affirmed, too, that the fiddler was followed by a swarm of fluttering lights causing an odd noise, like nothing so much as the multitudinous clacking of little hammers. If the Dwarf and his luminous retinue encountered any one, he stood still until the latter had passed, and then quietly pursued his road. The more inquisitive who had ventured to steal after the apparition, swore deep and high that the Dwarf and his lights had gone hissing into the well that stood upon Twirling-stick Mike's land, and then the ghostly procession altogether ceased.
"Simon gave himself a deal of trouble to witness some of these remarkable things; but he met with nothing; and accordingly, seeing that the ghost of the dead sponsor in no way molested him, he permitted the people to chatter on as they would. His indifference, indeed, had nearly reduced all disagreeable rumours to silence, when another very sensible unpleasantness took rise under his own roof.
"Young Klaus could hardly run alone before he manifested a most undesirable faculty of seeing spirits. It grew with his years; and at last it came to pass that no day or night went by upon which he had not something very extraordinary to relate. The occurrences certainly were chiefly of that nature that it required a most resolute and unbounded— an absolute Christianly-simple faith to believe them: and since the majority of Klaus's auditors were not excessively that way disposed, the accounts of the boy were held for so much downright swagger; and the poor ghost-seer acquired, to the no small vexation of his parent, the unenviable nickname of Mike's Lying Klaus. It was very singular, however, and could not fail to be remarked by every reflecting mind, that all the stories related by young Nicholas were in close connexion with the notorious well belonging to his father. There it was that he saw prodigious flames blazing forth, gold burning, and dances performed by the most grotesque and strangely-shaped little creatures. Passing this spot, earth, sand, glass, and even silver-pieces, would strike him on the head, without doing him the slightest injury. If he led his waggon by the spring, his good horses had to strain and torture themselves for a full quarter of an hour before they could draw the empty wain from the spot. The wheels seemed to have been locked and set fast, and yet the slightest hindrance could not be detected.
"Even to these incidents the ageing Simon had, by degrees, accustomed himself; but at length, and all on a sudden, it became his own frightful lot to perceive that his fine property was diminishing—yes, daily and hourly dropping and dropping away from him. He lived economically, as he had always done, even to parsimoniousness. The produce of his land, the income from his twirling-stick trade, were as satisfactory as could be— both improving! How could it happen then? Simon made known his misery to his neighbours, craved counsel from his pastor. Each chucked in his farthing's worth of wisdom; but it availed him nothing. In the meanwhile, the strapping youth grew every day more and more a ghost-seer; and the Dwarf was said to beset the premises of the farmer nightly. Simon, at all events to show a reason in his complaints, building upon these facts, boldly cast upon his son the imputation of robbing him. Violent scenes ensued between the two—they quarrelled and wrangled from morning till night; and at length, upon Simon's refusing his assent to the marriage of his hulking boy with a very honest, but at the same time somewhat uncouth and very poor girl—went bodily to law.
"Whilst father and son were valiantly tugging against each other in court, the lawyers gleefully rubbing their hands over the case, and many a good joint flying into their larders from the stalls of Twirling-stick Mike, the substance of the honest farmer underwent rapid decay. His neighbours, soon aware that Simon had falsely taxed his son, cleared up the question, as folks in such cases are fain to do, with suppositions and surmises. They gave out that the Dwarfs were gnawing away his fortune; every body believed it, and from that moment forward, he was a marked and doomed man.
Aristotolis Politic, lib. v. cap. 10, § 22, p. 193.—Ed. Tauch.
[Закрыть]
A collection of the classic authorities for the different attempts at cutting the canal through the isthmus of Corinth, may be interesting to some of our readers. PERIANDER'S Diogenes Laertius, i. 99—DEMETRIUS POLIORCETES, Strabo, vol. i. p. 86, ed. Tauch.—JULIUS CAESAR, Dion Cassius, xliv. 5. Plutarch in Caesar, lviii. Suetonius in Caesar. xliv.—CALIGULA, Suetonius in Calig. xxi.—NERO, Plinii, N.H. iv. 4. Lucian, Nero. Philostratus in vit. Apollon. Tyan. iv. 24. Zonaras, i. 570, ed. Paris.—HERODES ATTICUS, Philostratus in vit. Sophist. ii. 26.
[Закрыть]
Herodotus, vii. 21. Thucydides, iv. 109
[Закрыть]
Leake's Travels in Northern Greece. Vol. iii. p. 143.
[Закрыть]