that of Babylon is perhaps the only one which still suggests to our minds a sense of vague magnificence and undefined dominion.  Cities in other parts of the world, it is true, have rivalled Babylon in magnificence and power:  Egypt could boast of more than one such city, and their ruins to this day present to our gaze more monuments worthy of admiration than Babylon ever contained in the days of her greatest prosperity.  The pyramids of Memphis and the colossal statues of Thebes still stand erect, while the ziggurats and the palaces of Chaldaea are but mounds of clay crumbling into the plain; but the Egyptian monuments are visible and tangible objects; we can calculate to within a few inches the area they cover and the elevation of their summits, and the very precision with which we can gauge their enormous size tends to limit and lessen their effect upon us.  How is it possible to give free rein to the imagination when the subject of it is strictly limited by exact and determined measurements?  At Babylon, on the contrary, there is nothing remaining to check the flight of fancy:  a single hillock, scoured by the rains of centuries, marks the spot where the temple of Bel stood erect in its splendour; another represents the hanging gardens, while the ridges running to the right and left were once the ramparts.

[Illustration:  029.jpg THE RUINS OF BABYLON]

Drawn by Boudier, from a drawing reproduced in Hofer.  It shows the state of the ruins in the first half of our century, before the excavations carried out at European instigation.

The vestiges of a few buildings remain above the mounds of rubble, and as soon as the pickaxe is applied to any spot, irregular layers of bricks, enamelled tiles, and inscribed tablets are brought to light—­in fine, all those numberless objects which bear witness to the presence of man and to his long sojourn on the spot.  But these vestiges are so mutilated and disfigured that the principal outlines of the buildings cannot be determined with any certainty, and afford us no data for guessing their dimensions.  He who would attempt to restore the ancient appearance of the place would find at his disposal nothing but vague indications, from which he might draw almost any conclusion he pleased.

[Illustration:  030.jpg PLAN OF THE RUINS OF BABYLON]

     Prepared by Thuillier, from a plan reproduced in G.
     Rawlinson, Herodotus

Palaces and temples would take a shape in his imagination on a plan which never entered the architect’s mind; the sacred towers as they rose would be disposed in more numerous stages than they actually possessed; the enclosing walls would reach such an elevation that they must have quickly fallen under their own weight if they had ever been carried so high:  the whole restoration, accomplished without any certain data, embodies the concept of something vast and superhuman, well befitting the city of blood and tears, cursed