The countries that border on this midland
water, with their promontories buttressing a mimic ocean--their
mountain-sides teeming with the picturesque of human life--their heights
crowned with watch-towers--their rocky shelves consecrated by
hermitages, and their unrivalled sheet dotted with sails, rigged, as it
might be, expressly to produce effect in a picture, form a sort of world
apart, that is replete with charms which not only fascinate the
beholder, but which linger in the memories of the absent like visions of
a glorious past.
Our present business is with this fragment of a creation that is so
eminently beautiful, even in its worst aspects, but which is so often
marred by the passions of man, in its best. While all admit how much
nature has done for the Mediterranean, none will deny that, until quite
recently, it has been the scene of more ruthless violence, and of deeper
personal wrongs, perhaps, than any other portion of the globe. With
different races, more widely separated by destinies than even by origin,
habits, and religion, occupying its northern and southern shores, the
outwork, as it might be, of Christianity and Mohammedanism, and of an
antiquity that defies history, the bosom of this blue expanse has
mirrored more violence, has witnessed more scenes of slaughter, and
heard more shouts of victory, between the days of Agamemnon and Nelson,
than all the rest of the dominions of Neptune together. Nature and the
passions have united to render it like the human countenance, which
conceals by its smiles and godlike expression the furnace that so often
glows within the heart, and the volcano that consumes our happiness.
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