applications to decorate rooms for working girls.
Minnie asked, on behalf of the O.S. Committee, whether they were at
liberty to appeal to the public for funds without consulting the General
Committee on the subject. It was decided that they could not. Mr. N.
said that he thought they never ought to take any public action without
consulting the General Committee. We explained how impossible it would
be to work at all, if _no_ public action could be taken without
reference to the General Committee; for all the work is dealing with
public bodies, vestries, etc., and, when Minnie pointed out that in any
doubtful case like Burnham Beeches, the O.S. Committee always had, and
always would, consult the General Committee, Mr. N. was satisfied.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
December 15th, 1879.
OCTAVIA TO A VOLUNTEER WORKER.
In order to bind the work in the Court (not the collecting, to which
this letter does not refer at all) and to make the arrangements simpler
and more organised, it is proposed to unite the teachers of the evening
classes into a little Committee.
I hope you will be able to join this Committee. I do not think that it
will involve you in any labour which will not be very easy, even to so
busy a person as you; while it would, in many ways, save you trouble in
making arrangements a little more organised and easy to deal with. I
think you would all enjoy the little reason for meeting from time to
time.
Unless any unforeseen business presents itself, I should think two
meetings in the year would be ample; one to settle summer and one winter
arrangements, for it is proposed to leave everyone utterly free to do on
their evening precisely what seems good to them, so that the only
questions that the Committee would have to deal with would be those
which might clash with or influence other workers, or in which they
would wish to have a voice. My sister, Mrs. Edmund Maurice, will be
Secretary of the little Committee. There would be five members,
including yourself; but if large questions of general interest were
coming before the Committee, it would be well to invite the other
workers in the Court to attend and vote, as the landlord is anxious for
the room to be as generally useful as possible, especially as Lady Ducie
has given up hers to the general use of the Court so entirely by giving
the use of it to the Club. I am not without hope that I may have the
great pleasure of seeing the Committee meet just once here, after Xmas,
before I go. I hope rather great things from it, do you know? I feel how
much the life of the Court has developed since I left. All of you seem
to me stronger and quite knowing your own strength, which is an immense
help. The work is more individual, more living, more firmly rooted; but
I don’t like to think that you should lose anything by my absence; and I
sometimes dare to hope that this little Committee might, while leaving
to each of you full, free scope, give you each the _little_ connecting
link you seem as if you might lose in losing me. I mean the power of all
meeting for common work, of gathering strength each from the other, of
adding power and life each to the other’s work, of knowing and meeting
one another, of understanding each what the other means, of pausing for
a moment to see if there is anything to learn, to accept, to use in the
other’s work, the sense of a common cause and of being one body to
interpret that common cause in the noblest way in which it can be
conceived, and to sink all little narrow views in the broadest and
deepest ones.
[Sidenote: GROWTH OF WORK IN OCTAVIA’S ABSENCE]
Rome,
February 18th, 1880.
TO MIRANDA.
What an interesting account you give of Mr. Clifford’s discussions! I
believe few people _will_ grasp what he meant the main point of the
discussion to be; but I do believe they will be _very_ useful, if they
show people who are doing tangible good, or good less spiritual, that
distinct teaching about God Himself may be needed. I think the reaction
from doing _that_ only has been too great, and that I and many people
need to be reminded of that deepest way of work; tho’ I think we always
take it up when we have the power, but we hardly look out for, or
abundantly use, the people who have the power, nor cultivate it in
ourselves. I think it is the next thing we have to aim at. In fear of
undue pressure, we hardly appeal bravely enough to the indwelling power
of response there must be in every one.
Brindisi,
February 20th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
... I am glad you like the Diary of an Old Soul. I think MacDonald
singularly excels in that quaint, simple, deeply religious poetry.
Somehow he has naturally the habit of making those queer comparisons,
and sudden leaps from great to small things which one finds in the old
poets; and, in the same way, his deep faith atones for the strangeness.
There is even something captivating in it. I think the book very
beautiful. I went to see Mrs. Grey in Rome. She was so _very_ kind and
nice, and so interesting too. We talked of old times, and of the Public
Day Schools, and the Kindergarten work. We also saw the Marshes....
Yesterday we came from Beneventum here. The day was wild, and there was
even rain; but it was very interesting, first to cross the watershed
between the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian Seas, then to traverse the great
plain lying round Foggia, where four and a half million sheep used to
graze, returning in winter by three great roads called the Strade dei
Pecore. The merino sheep used to be there, _now_ the plain is gradually
being cultivated; but there are still half a million sheep, and one sees
herds of great grey cattle, and droves of 40 or 60 horses, looking
almost wild, grazing among the glades of oak trees, or on the open
ground.
[Sidenote: CO-OPERATION WITH CLERGY]
February 21st, 1880.
MIRANDA TO OCTAVIA.
One of the lady workers was talking of giving food to one of the B. Crt.
men, who has been ill; but I found he had just got into work, so I
suggested he could get on for himself now. I then explained to her that
your plan was to let St. Thomas’s Relief Committee do any absolute
relief, and then to strengthen them with gifts, if you can make any. She
was so much interested, and very glad to know it. She said that she had
no idea you worked with the Church authorities to that extent. She knew
you were a member of the Church, but had no idea you co-operated with
the clergy to that extent. So many people thought you chose to be
independent. I explained how anxious you were that the clergy should be
willing to be co-operated with, and told her that your desire was to
work with them and so was that of the C.O.S. if they would but be worked
with.... Mr. E. writes: “Will Mr. M. contribute to the Thirlmere Defence
Fund? He may be induced to do so when he remembers Miss Octavia Hill’s
words” (evidently some words you spoke some time ago).
Hotel St. George, Corfu,
Tuesday, February 24th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
We reached here on Saturday. We found no post left here for England till
to-day; I hope you will not have thought it very long before you heard.
We had a splendid passage here.... I lay on the deck nearly all day, and
saw the wild, blue, beautiful Albanian shore, such a land of bare wild
mountain-land. The name of the people means “Highlander.” Then we
floated past the islands and into the narrow sea between Corfu and
Albania, where the Venetians and Turks had their last sea fight, and the
Turks tried no more to advance into Europe. It was a glorious light as
we floated into Corfu about half past. When we had passed thro’ 13 miles
of this forest country with the mountains in view, and here and there,
but _very_ far between, a village or two, we came out on a cliff over
the sea, along which we drove three miles. The road had been made by the
English soldiers, but it is now all going gradually to pieces; the
arches which support the bridges over the little streams (which, by the
way, are now _quite_ dry) are all cracking, their keystones protruding;
the well-built walls supporting the road on the slope of the hills are
crumbling gradually down, taking the road with them. Great hollows are
appearing in the road, and large stones in thousands rolling down upon
it. The driver said, “Il governo non fa niente per la strada.” And there
it is crumbling to decay. It does seem a pity.
We are going on board the Greek boat to-day en route for Athens. We hear
the “roughness” only consists in the want of good food; that the _boat_
and arrangements are good. There is at any rate much less open sea, and
the scenery is finer. An English lady who sat by me last night said she
had been both ways and much preferred ours, but the gentlemen here make
a great talking about the food. I daresay it will do for us. I am doing
very little drawing and no good with it; but it is possible I may later,
and this sea could not be attempted without emerald green.
[Sidenote: CONDITION OF PATRAS]
Athens,
February 28th, 1880.
TO MIRANDA.
Patras, their new commercial city, is nearly as pathetic and nearly as
interesting as modern Athens; and one feels that from there actual
_safety_, as well as education, and even the possibility of seeing the
beauty, must spread gradually. The difficulties of travel are quite
extraordinary, quite independently of the question of safety. There are
no hotels, no lodgings, no beds, hardly any food, no relays of horses,
no posts, no accurate guide-books, no trustworthy people to give
information. And somehow one feels it will all come gradually from this
little town, springing up, as it were, yesterday, with its little throb
of life, which must permeate the whole before it can be healthy or
alive. Even from a tourist’s point of view, mountains and woods and
defiles and rivers are no use because you can’t get at them; and what of
the life of the people, their education, their power of using the good
things that the earth brings forth?
Hôtel des Étrangers, Athens,
March 3rd, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
Mrs. Coupland’s introductions have been most useful.... Dr. Milschaefer
came himself to give us a lesson in modern Greek, and brought such an
interesting young Greek to teach us the pronunciation. It is very
interesting to see how the young national life is flowing instinctively
in the old grooves. The great thing they have progressed in, since their
independence, has been education. Their University is evidently becoming
remarkable, and people are coming from Asia Minor and Turkey to study.
Their girls’ schools and boys’ schools are evidently what they feel they
are succeeding in. They regret, however, that everyone tries to be a
lawyer or something of that kind; and that agriculture and manufacture
are neglected. Evidently agriculture has a great future here. The
country is much less fertile than in olden times, partly from the bad
systems of cultivation, partly, I should guess, from the neglect of
trees. They excuse themselves by saying that the ancient Greeks had
slaves; but one feels free men ought to work as well as slaves! and one
can see they know they ought to do better. One great want is population.
They can and do live by the rudest systems of culture. I daresay the
utter insecurity of country life, which for years (I suppose ages) has
prevailed, will have prevented anyone seeing to, or caring for, farming.
The Greeks look as if they had _much_ more stamina than the Italians. I
fancy their sea life has kept it up; and perhaps their mountain
fastnesses, and the fiercer oppression have really been better for them
than the enervated life of Italian cities under Austrian, or despotic,
cultivated home rule, where the richer and nobler classes must have had
the ease of civilisation without the responsibility or duty of
self-government. But this is all theory to account for the greater
energy one sees. Certainly the Greeks seem to me to have dealt really
well with brigandage, in contrast with the Italians. After that dreadful
affair in 1870,[93] the House of Deputies enacted a law for four years,
punishing the relations of those who were with the brigands, and the
villages near which it occurred, which law the English minister here
tells us, really extirpated it in a few months, so that the English
consuls were able officially to report that, except on the borders and
in Thessaly, it no longer existed. Brigandage broke out some time ago in
Acarnania, and they instantly re-enacted the law, and it disappeared. It
seems to me wise and right in cases where, as here, the crime could only
exist by reason of the collusion of the surrounding people. And it must
be much kinder than dallying on, as the Italians keep doing in Sicily,
first sending and then withdrawing troops. Mr. Corbett was so kind. Gen.
Gardiner got me a letter of introduction thro’ Mr. Eric Barrington, who
is Secretary to Lord Salisbury; the letter was evidently a very kind
one. Mr. Corbett called at once, and gave us full and kind assurances
and directions as to our movements. The border land is evidently, as
_every_ one has said thro’out, quite unsafe; but everywhere else
confidence has been quite restored for some years. We have the very
_best_ advice, and shall strictly follow it, so you need not have _any_
fear. By the way, do you know those four poor gentlemen were given a
large escort, and they insisted on galloping on, and leaving them two
miles behind!! So Mr. Corbett told us. It really makes a _great_
difference as to the blame attached to the Greek authorities.
[Sidenote: BRIGANDAGE IN GREECE]
We went up Mt. Pentelicus on Monday. The day was not fine, it was wet
and cold, and we had no view from the top; but I did enjoy it so very
much. The colours of all the wild landscape near were so exquisite ... I
never saw such lights, even in Italy. (Here follows an account of
flowers found, and the difficulty of identifying them without botany
books.) I never shall forget the sunset light coming back last night, as
we saw it on Pentelicus, Parnes and Hymettus, and on the Acropolis of
Athens. There was the grey-green foreground of stone and dead thyme; the
red ground here and there ploughed up, the grey-green olive, or full
dark pine, set far and far between; then there were the blue shadowed
sides and bases of the mountains and their snow-covered tops, now in
blue shadow, now in rose-coloured light, and then all the sun-lighted
sides of the mountains were rose and gold; and the blue-green sea,
turned in places into one silver sheet of ripple, broke on the shores
with sweet musical voice. It was like a dream of perfect beauty.... Mrs.
Corbett turns out to be a cousin of Lady Ducie’s, and writes most warmly
about seeing me.
About difficulties in the school.
Athens,
March, 1880.
OCTAVIA TO MIRANDA.
Something has set the girls out of tune. I know how trying it is, and
how the sense of it shuts one up, and makes it impossible to be oneself,
or to trust to them. But I believe, if one could remember at such times
what depths of better things there are in every human heart, and how
they only need to be believed in and appealed to (especially in these
young things), to spring up and grow and thrive, one would more quickly
get past these trying times. There is usually either some stupid
misconception, or false standard of what is desirable, confusing the
young mind, some phantom, which seems good to it, and is not good; or
else some real evil, which the child herself knows to be evil, and
against which she—the better self—will side with you the teacher, if you
can but assume that she is ready to do so. One may beat about the bush
for any length of time, by dealing with manifestations of wrong; but if
one can get _near_ people, and get their spirits into harmony with God’s
will and purpose, and make them feel that one only wants _that_ done,
one strikes at the root of the evil, and loses at once the sense of jar,
because it is lost in the sense of harmony with the good in people.
[Sidenote: GREEK SCENERY]
Hôtel des Étrangers, Athens,
March 10th, 1880
TO HER MOTHER.
... I suppose this will reach you a little before your birthday (tho’
that seems hardly credible); let it bring you my loving wishes for all
that is brightest and best. We went on Saturday to Tatoë, which is a
little place on Mt. Parnes, where the king has built a little place for
summer. It is close to the old pass of Dekelea, which the Spartans
fortified, and held during the Peloponnesian War. It was a glorious day,
and we thoroughly enjoyed it; Mt. Pentelicus looked quite beautiful.
There is a great quantity of fir wood near the king’s place. They have
cleared away trees here and there; I fancy, to let one see the giants of
the native forest, which stand magnificently, throwing their arms up in
the sunshine, a foreground to the blue mountains. The ground was covered
with wild golden crocuses, blue anemones; and, here and there, if a
little bit of land was sown with corn, there were great crimson anemones
growing among it. The utter solitude of the country is so strange here.
One drives for miles, and hardly sees a creature. We drove on Monday to
the Bay of Phalerum, and spent the afternoon at the Acropolis, and saw
the sunset from there. Yesterday a wild, tearing wind arose. We were to
to have gone to Phyle, and the mules had been sent on; but the storm of
wind raged, so we did not attempt it; in fact we could hardly stand on
the hill of Areopagus, or beat our way back along the streets, when we
returned from seeing the theatre of Dionysius, and the Stadium. We spent
Sunday evening at Mrs. Corbett’s, and last evening at Mrs. Finlay’s, and
met Mr. and Mrs. F. Noel. They go to Eubœa soon, and we shall follow
soon.... As I sit, I see the snow heavily falling between me and the
cypress trees. It does look so out of place.... Every one agrees in one
united testimony as to the extinction of brigandage.... Here it is
pretty to watch the restored confidence, and the life that is able to
grow up under it. They seem to be very cautious still, and send mounted
gendarmes out over all these solitary roads; but it is nice to hear the
pride with which the gendarme tells you you can go anywhere.... People
are beginning to build little houses in the country, and there are other
marks of confidence. How interesting it is to hear, on all sides, of the
love of education! It seems quite innate; the children clamour to be
taught, and especially do they delight in politics. They had _no_ toys
till lately. Old Mrs. Hill, who first established schools here for
girls, forty years ago, says she never sees the toy-shops without
remembering how she brought the first dolls to Athens, and tried to
teach the children to play. She says they all sit down to read; boys and
girls stand at the corners to discuss politics. Children used to walk
from Eleusis and back to attend school here.
[Sidenote: GREEK POLITICS]
Athens,
March 18th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
We saw, some few hundred yards from the hamlet, an old, broken marble
pillar placed there to mark from the surrounding hilly open common a
tiny space separated by a rough ridge of earth from the common; but even
the ridges had gaps in them, one of which led to a stony path. We
followed it, and found ourselves in the churchyard. A few graves, marked
with little crosses, and planted with sweet rosemary, gathered round one
which alone had a stone, a little railing, and a young date-tree planted
at each corner. To our astonishment, we found the inscription in French.
It was: “Oh you who pass by, pause and know that here lies an angel who
waits for thee beyond there, Beatrice B.... who died in her 15th year,
1877.” It was so simple, and, having no surname, seemed to mark this
more. We wondered whether French people were the cultivators, and what
was the history. The people were all Greeks at the house doors in the
hamlet, and we don’t know enough Greek to ask who has begun the
cultivation. Still, we are getting on fast with our Greek. We often wish
we knew more. There is an exciting ministerial crisis here—M. Tricoupis,
the Liberal candidate, trying to overthrow, on financial questions, M.
Koumondouros, the Conservative. People say M. Tricoupis is the man of
most principle, but that he has not a strong party. Some of the deputies
stay at this hotel, and every night at dinner they have a hot argument;
but we cannot even follow the main drift—we only catch a few words here
and there. If we knew more, we should learn much more. We have had a
Greek master every night, and have been learning the grammar, when Miss
Y. would let me; but it is slow work till one gets to the point of
hearing.
Hôtel des Étrangers, Athens,
March 20th, 1880.
TO MIRANDA.
... There seems so much to tell you of what we see here. I feel always
as if I ought to dash into a sort of swift summary of journal, instead
of writing, as I should like, about all the things you tell me. I am
sure you know how my heart and thoughts follow you all in them, and I
think you will like to know many things I am seeing.
[Sidenote: A SYMPATHETIC TEACHER]
The weather has been so wild and wintry that we are glad to be settled
here, and shall not move till it is assured spring time. Meanwhile, we
are seeing things within a drive, learning Greek, and trying to gather
what we can about modern Greek life. Yesterday we went to see Mrs.
Hill’s day school for girls. Dr. and Mrs. Hill came here nearly fifty
years ago; their work has been supported by the Americans. This school
was the first house built in Athens among the hovels. They used some
foundations of an ancient market, and say the steps of the school, which
were found when they were digging the foundations, may be those up which
St. Paul stepped. Dr. and Mrs. Hill built their own house at the same
time; and it stands in quite the poor part of Athens, the palace and all
the better houses being later, and forming a new quarter. Dr. Hill is
now quite blind, and Mrs. Hill too old to teach; but a vigorous and most
sympathetic Scotch lady, Miss Muir, lives with them, and carries on
their work. I was delighted with her; she and they seem to have been
animated with the true spirit of trust in the people, love for them, and
desire, not to proselytise, but to work with all that is good and pure
in what the people themselves believe—to strengthen that, instead of
dwelling on differences. Hence they have never found any difficulty in
working with the Greek priests. The lady who was with us kept pressing
difficulties upon Miss Muir, and asking her if she was not hampered by
this or that; and it was very beautiful to hear her answers. “Have you
not great difficulties in not being allowed to read the Bible?” “No,”
said Miss Muir; “we read it from end to end if we wish.” “But how about
the Greek doctrine and the procession of the Holy Ghost?” “O, the
Filioque! we haven’t to touch upon it any way! Do you know there is a
little school at the foot of Mount Parnes, from which the priest wrote,
asking if we could spare any old spelling books, or maps, or school
things, and we gathered together what we could; since which, we have
always been interested in the school. And some time ago the priest said
they would like some copies of the Bible. I wrote to America, and they
sent out twelve copies of the New Testament. Twelve of the elder lads
and the priest walked all the way to Athens one day, in pouring rain, to
receive these. Some months after they wrote to say that, in reading the
New Testament, so many questions came up for which they wanted to refer
to the Old Testament. ‘Might they have the Pentateuch?’ So I wrote to
America again. When the books came, I drove to Parnes to take them. The
priest was absent for a few hours; on his return he rang the great
village bell, and all the peasants assembled, and the great boys came
forward to receive their books, and I wrote their names in them. ‘Tell
me,’ I said, ‘is it true that you read these? So many people say you
don’t.’ ‘Every day,’ he answered, ‘we have our food of necessities, and
something to give it a relish; so daily we have our lessons, and
something to give them a relish.’ Many missionaries tell the people they
should not cross themselves. To me,” she said, “it is beautiful to see
them do it, when I remember what centuries they have lived under the
Turks, as a despised and oppressed nation, and think what it must have
cost them to make that cross publicly, as they do when they pass a
church. It is the assertion of their Christianity. I sometimes ask
myself how many of us would have power to make that cross?”
“But aren’t you obliged to have a priest come in and teach?” “No,” said
Miss M.; “many come in as friends, and we always invite those we know to
the examinations and gatherings; and we have a large number of priests’
children as scholars, but in this school we never had a priest to teach.
In Mrs. Hill’s other school she often had a young deacon as pupil
teacher. She used to prepare her Bible lessons with him. They are very
ignorant, and were delighted to learn and then teach.”
All the human sympathy was so quick and so deep. She showed a tiny
orphan boy of 4, left by his mother, at her death, whom they placed in
school, to live with the teacher. We asked for a Greek teacher, and she
recommended one of two orphan pupil teachers, to whom they had given
rooms in the building. All the education in Greece, of rich and poor,
was initiated by Dr. and Mrs. Hill. They have still this school of 700
boys and girls, and train their own teachers; but the larger work they
helped the Government to start, and then gave it up to them.... I wonder
what will be done about the unveiling of St. Christopher. They are not
Lady Ducie’s houses, you see. I should like a little ceremony; but it is
difficult to imagine a simple natural one, and there seems no place for
it.
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF TRICOUPIS]
Athens,
March 25th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
I wonder how you are. It seems so strange not to know. We went to see
Dr. and Mrs. Hill the other day. Such quiet interesting beautiful old
people. They remind me of Quakers. They are beloved and respected by
every one, Greek and English, poor and sick, and seem to be the only
missionaries who have won the people’s hearts, by trying to get them to
do better in the way their consciences told them. They are full of
stories of all they have seen. They came after the battle of Navarino.
The Turks were still here for two years after they came; but the
protocols were signed, and the Greeks were preparing to return. They
told us lovely loving little stories of the people they had known; of
their first teacher, a Greek girl from Crete, who came to them as a
child, and became like a daughter to them, and of many of their
protegés; but all in the same honouring, affectionate way people speak,
who have the power of drawing out what is good in those they meet. There
has been the wildest excitement here about the change of ministry. M.
Tricoupis has just succeeded M. Koumondouros. Mr. T. seems to be
universally respected. The English say he is _the_ Greek they trust. The
Greeks say he is before the age, too good for the time, &c. He is the
son of a much respected Greek who was for years envoy in London; and he
and his sister are supposed to owe much of their enlightenment to
English influence; they are much attached to England. His main object is
to abolish the payment of a tenth part of the agricultural produce to
the Government, which is supposed to press heavily on the people. We
hear that it was one _great_ cause of the War of Independence; but it
has never yet been altered. He is also understood to be most anxious to
alter the practice now in force here, according to which every
Government employé, from post office clerks upwards, changes with the
ministry. It seems there are £2,000,000 of uncollected taxes in Greece
now, the arrears being largely due to the tax-collectors being unable to
employ any compulsion, the debtors simply threatening not to vote for
the party which enforces payment. There are 500 doctors and 500 lawyers
trained here in the University every year; the doctors, they say, do
very well, for they go off into the villages in Asia Minor and Turkey.
They are trying to improve the education of the priests, and train many;
but only five out of every one hundred remain priests. But it all sounds
to me like the swift cultivation of a large number of educated men, who
must help. It is clear that party feeling runs high, and it is difficult
to be sure with what bias statements are made; but, various as are the
views, the statement of facts is curiously unanimous; and one listens to
the quiet people who sympathise and talk quietly, as well as to the
bursts of indignation and scorn; and we seem to learn a good deal. As I
say, the facts that all tell us are much the same. We were fortunate
yesterday, in being taken to Mlle. Tricoupis. She was very kind; her
brother, of course, was too busy to be seen, and she was very tired—she
had been receiving till two o’clock the night before, all the Greeks
calling to offer congratulations to the new Prime Minister; but she was
very kind and talked some little time, tho’ not about any of these
burning questions. We are to go again....
[Sidenote: UNVEILING ST. CHRISTOPHER]
Athens,
March 26th, 1880.
TO MIRANDA.
I shall be so glad if anything is managed in the way of a little
ceremony in Bts. Crt. for St. Christopher. I see many difficulties, but
I _should_ like it. I am specially glad if it leads to telling the
people the story. Will the unveiler read one to the people, I wonder?
And where? It seems a pity there is no space in the court where the
people can gather. I had been wondering what could be devised in the way
of a ceremony, and had thought of little medals with date and motto to
be given to eldest and youngest child in each family resident there a
given time, and their marching in procession thro’ St. Christopher’s
room to receive them, with music and flowers and flags; but I think it
would mean a great deal of labour. I think these common memories good
for tenants and workers. I don’t much fear stone throwing; but one never
quite knows how people will see things; one may throw a stone where
_fifty_ look with interest. I hope and believe they will like the thing;
but if anything does happen I am always ready for failure in preparing
the hearts of people for any new thing; some one must pay the cost in
disappointment. I am quite willing to do so.
Athens,
April 1st, 1880.
OCTAVIA TO HER MOTHER.
... We went up Pentelicus and had a lovely day. It is a splendid view
from the top. One sees Eubœa with its long range of snow mountains and
its narrow strait, and Helena and Andros and the mountain ranges of
Parnes, Cithæron and Parnassus; and Hymettus, and Athens and its plain;
below lies Marathon with its red soil and blue bay—indeed blue bays of
the sea seem to be around one almost everywhere. Last evening we spent
at the Hills’. Mrs. H. was saying that letters, when first they came
here, were 7 months coming from America; that they could negotiate no
bill of exchange here; when they wanted money Dr. H. used to have to go
and fetch it from Smyrna, to which, of course, moreover, there were none
but sailing ships. She said they never knew how long it would take,
especially because of the quarantine. Plague raged at Constantinople and
Jerusalem, so that vessels were often and often kept six weeks with
passengers in quarantine. She says the last plague was in 1843.... We
went to the House of Deputies to hear a debate, in the box of the
Diplomatic Corps, and could see well, and could have heard had we known
more Greek. It was very curiously interesting to see the House. The
gallery is open to the public, and was quite densely packed with a crowd
of the very poorest people, with earnest, eager eyes, watching and
listening, with an intentness beyond what I ever saw at the play. Crowds
outside, too, were standing, talking and waiting; and this goes on day
after day. Mr. Darcy, the clergyman here, took us; and he knew all the
members, and pointed them out to us and told us about them. I have been
reading some very interesting statistics about Greece, published seven
or eight years ago. Do you know that since the independence her
population has doubled, and her revenue has increased 500 per cent.?—the
children in school were between 6,000 and 7,000 and are now 81,000. I
forget the increase of acres cultivated, but it is very large.
[Sidenote: THE GROWTH OF THE GREEK NATION]
Athens,
April 8th, 1880.
TO MIRANDA.
We went yesterday to Phyle, and saw the actual fortified place held by
Thrasybulus against the 30 tyrants. The gigantic walls still stand. We
went with Miss Muir, who is so friendly and delightful with all the
people, it is beautiful to see. It reminds me of going about with Miss
Cons. She always finds out all about the people and finds helpful things
to do for them; and it makes one see all the gentle, helpful, friendly,
hospitable side. It is so different from going about with guides. We had
such a glorious day. We drove for 10 miles over a very bad road to a
village called Chassia, quite up in a ravine of Parnes. There the road
stopped, and I had a mule, and we went for 2½ hours into the folds of
the mountain ravines, till we came to the great promontory-like rock.
The utter solitude, the exquisite blue of the shadows on the gigantic
cliff-like rocks, the clear sun-filled air, the fresh breeze, the far
away look of plain or hill or bay alive with noble memories filled me
with a strange awed joy. I am much touched with the nation. I am afraid
I shall never tell you all that makes me feel towards them as I do. I am
getting such a vivid impression of the people, its hopes and
admirations, and capacities. It is _clearly_ growing. I have been
reading a great many official statistics, which show the wonderful
growth. I cannot but believe it has a great future. I sometimes think of
Matthew Arnold’s ideas about Hellenism, and wonder whether in very deed
the people may be destined to bring out that side of human nature he
speaks of as so wanting in the “Hebrew”;—the sort of intellectual grasp
and reverence for thought and intangible things. Yet the nation has hard
work just now with its tangible things, and is working to get them into
order. Also it has, in its suffering under the Turks, clung with
tenacity to its Christian faith, which is more than life to it; and this
feeling is intensified by the faith being connected with the _nation_,
the early martyrs for national freedom being many of them bishops. We
were present in the metropolitan church at the anniversary of Greek
independence. The king and the children were there. It was strange to
see the tremendous crowd, the solitary Lutheran king, the tiny children
standing between him and the people crossing themselves, and the
gorgeously dressed priests who seem so human and so near the people
compared with the Catholic clergy. With respect to the national worship
for an idea—THE families who are considered great here are those who
have lost their all at Missolonghi, or in supplying ships from Hydra!
Athens,
April 8th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
... How delighted you will be about the elections! Is it not really
marvellous; I never expected it! It is strange sometimes how silent
England is, and yet how her heart rings true! I am filled with
prayerful, almost tremulous, hope that the new Government _will_ live up
to a high standard. Oh! do you think it will? It is pathetic to see how
happy the Greeks are about it, and how much they hope from England now.
Sometimes I fear the Liberals will not have courage to tax to meet past
expenditure quickly, as they ought; or to deal generously with the
little struggling nationalities. Those _I_ shall feel the test questions
for them, as to their consciences. I believe they will deal with the
question of land, which will be good. The Barnetts are here, and Mr. B.
very much interested about the elections in England.... Mr. B.’s whole
heart is at home, and in talking of it....
[Sidenote: COURTESY OF GREEK WORKMEN]
Corinth,
Sunday, April 11th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
We started on our travels again yesterday, and seem to have seen a great
deal. We drove from Athens to Megara yesterday—we being Miss Yorke, Miss
Muir, a very nice Swiss lady, and myself. We were received and
entertained by a hand-loom weaver, who knew Miss Muir. They were so
kind; they gave up to us a large room, their best, and all slept in
their second room, which led thro’ ours. Our beds were spotlessly clean,
but laid on the earthen floor, after we had all had supper together,
father, mother, married son and his wife, and half the village looking
on. I never saw more affectionate welcome, or more native courtesy than
they all showed. The son and his young wife spent the afternoon taking
us to call on their friends and relations. It was so touching and
beautiful; the very poorest people receiving us with such a dignified
bearing; and everywhere we had to take something. One old woman, the
mother of 12 children, and quite poor, was quite distressed she had
nothing but some figs and nuts to give us. She remembered the time of
the Turks and the dreadful hardships. Our host had come out of Thessaly
to be in “free Greece,” after it was known that Thessaly was not to
belong to Greece. “Oh”! he said, “they brought the children away in
boxes, or anything, to get them safe into Greece.”
Megara is a populous village, almost entirely composed of houses of one
room only. The people wear the most lovely costume, and carry themselves
magnificently, so that every group forms a picture. There was nothing
pretty in the old houses, so I am glad to hear they were beginning to
build themselves better ones. We saw more of their life than we _could_
have seen anyhow else, and heard more of their sayings. I shall just jot
down a few, anyhow, to be sure to tell you. They never speak harm of
anything, especially in the evening. They call the worst bit of a road
Kali Scali, Kali meaning good; and in the evening they respectfully call
vinegar “the little sweet thing.” Many of their expressions are formed
from agricultural work. When Miss Muir’s glove was lost they were much
distressed, and said someone must have “reaped” it. The bride and
bridegroom are married in crowns which are framed and hung up; and when
they die they are buried in them. The sons have to marry in regular
order of age, and must not do so till their sisters are married off. The
boys and girls—mere children—never stand together; the most eager crowds
of lookers-on yesterday sorted themselves, the boys being on one side,
and the girls on the other. They speak very freely to those above them
in rank, our host kept addressing Miss Muir: “Oh, sister, what sayest
thou?” tho’ the you is well distinguished from “thou.” There is no water
in the village, but a large washing place outside it—great stone troughs
by the spring; every girl, when she marries, has to receive one as part
of her dowry. The unmarried girls wear a complete skull-cap made of half
drachmas, about sixpence each; they never wear the cap after marriage,
and never unthread it for use, unless in dire need. These people gave us
food, lodging, and all their time, and turned out of their room, and
would not hear of receiving anything. As we came along to-day, we met a
flock of sheep with lambs; and Miss M. heard the muleteers tell the
shepherd to wait till they came back, as they must take the Paschal lamb
back for our host’s family. So we united to send the lamb back as a
present. The people are all rigidly fasting; their Lent is not over. Not
a man will touch any meat we offer him. At Easter every family buys a
lamb, fattens and kills it. We had a sort of royal reception; the
priest, the demarch, the schoolmaster, and all the people coming down.
Here we four, utter strangers, rode up dusty and tired, sent in to the
banker here a letter of introduction for Mr. Dufour, and all four were
instantly received, lodged, and fed as a matter of course.
[Sidenote: GREEK EASTER FEASTS]
Patras,
April 12th, 1880.
We came on by the Greek steamer here yesterday. Mr. Barnett brought me
from Athens your delightful letter and dear Miranda’s, and some
newspapers.... We have seen the Consul and his wife—delightful people.
They have recommended us a former servant of their own, who was with
them for years, to drive us to Olympia. The same man lately took Mr.
Newton, the chief man at the British Museum. It is a four days’ drive
there and back, and Miss Muir and Mr. Dufour left us at Corinth, so we
are thoroughly glad to have a trustworthy man. We are in high spirits,
the weather glorious; and we are looking forward to going very much.
Part of to-day’s drive is thro’ four hours of oak forest! I do not know
if we told you about Olympia. The Germans are excavating there, and have
found all the temples buried under sand brought down by the Alpheus, and
some grand statues, one of Hermes, as fine as any of the world-famous
statues. It is very fine of the German Government to take all the
expense. They spent 10,000 francs annually on it till this year, when
they are too poor; and the Emperor himself has given 5,000 that the work
may not cease. Yet they are to have nothing for it except the right of
taking casts. Everything they find is to belong to the Greek Government;
only they stipulated that the Greeks should make them a road. Scientific
Germans are there directing, with 500 Greek workmen. They say they are
such splendid workmen, better than Germans—so the director says. We take
all our food with us to-day, and sleep at a khan. At Olympia the
director’s cook will take us in. It is all very funny. Here there is a
very nice hotel. We find our Greek _most_ useful. I am so delighted
about the English news of elections.
Pyrgos,
April 14th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
[Sidenote: AN OAK WOOD IN GREECE]
I seem to have such a number of things to tell you, I hardly know how to
begin. We left Patras at 6 o’clock on Monday morning, and drove on and
on for miles, along the bright sea-shore, just on the beach; then we
turned inland, along the roughest roads; no boundary road in a remote
district in England could be worse. We had to go at a foot’s pace; but
it was all lovely, great masses of asphodel in full bloom, bushes of
broom one sheet of gold, crimson carpets of great cranesbill; olive,
oak, and terebinth; and between, and over them, we saw the bright sea
and the blue mountains. We drove thro’ countless streams, large and
small, now fording rivers, now plunging down steep banks. Then we came
to the oak forest thro’ which we drove, incessantly, over the smooth
turf, or gravelly soil, for four hours. The oaks stand, not close
together, but as in an English park, here and there, thicker or more
scattered, on slopes, or spaces of turf. Many of the trees were old and
knotted; some had suffered by fire; here and there were parts full of
rich underwood; and then we came to smooth sheets of delicate blue with
the tiny iris; the mountains were always in sight. There was hardly a
trace of cultivation; hardly a house the whole day to be seen; and we
drove incessantly till 6 at night. We stayed the night at a khan, they
say one of the best in Greece; and the wall and beds were clean; but it
is a strange kind of savage accommodation. The dogs barked so, and the
wind howled over the great plain we had reached; I could not sleep much.
Next day—yesterday—we started at 5 in the morning, having cooked and
eaten our breakfast. The clouds, which had gathered over night, broke
away before the sun; and we had a magnificent day. We drove on and on,
thro’ uncultivated wastes rather like our heaths, thro’ water courses,
and usually _off_ the road, it was so bad; but with the most splendid
light, and a view of the sea, and Zante in the distance. At mid-day we
dined here; and then drove on to Olympia in a sunlight I never shall
forget. The road from here to Olympia is very good. It has been made by
the Greek Government, that being the one condition the Germans made on
undertaking the excavations. We excited the greatest amazement, as no
ladies do anything alone here; it is very amusing. The country is much
more cultivated near here; and, going to Olympia, we saw several
villages; but still it was very strange to drive for 3½ hours up, as it
were, into the heart of an untraversed country, and find the road
stopping in the heart of a remote valley, where a handful of Germans had
undertaken this curious great work. Five hundred Greek workmen were
digging and carting and shovelling. Our coachman led us to a sort of
foreman, who asked us if we spoke German or Greek. He spoke no English,
but some Italian. We asked for a lodging, and he sent one of his men to
take us to the cottage of the director’s cook, who has 3 spare rooms. We
climbed a steep hill overlooking the excavations, on which stood one
new, well-built house. We were led to such a cottage that I felt as if
we hardly could sleep there. However the bed was clean, and the view
something splendid. We ate our dinner laid on a board on the top of a
stool; and we sat on the bed. We had not an atom of blind, nor a
chair!—After that we got a man with a lantern; and, armed with one of
Mrs. Coupland’s introductions, a visiting card, and the name of a Dr.
and Mrs. Irvi, mentioned to us by the Consul at Patras, we went off to
what the peasants call the “German house.”—I had hardly sent in my card
with message of enquiry before Mrs. Irvi came out with kindest words and
hurried us in to a room where sat, after their dinner, the little
company of Germans, who are directing the work. She introduced us to
Herr Kurtzius, who speaks English. Such a man! but I must tell you of
him later. Mrs. I. was _so_ kind, would make us have coffee and stay,
and _would_ go back with us to see where we were lodged. She laughed,
saying, “Oh yes! its our _very_ best hotel here, you could not do
better.” Three gentlemen friends of theirs were sleeping there too. The
German house is quite full.—We breakfasted with the Irvis at 7 o’clock,
and then Herr K. came with his plan, and for three hours shewed us over
the excavations. He is such a man! [Sidenote: GERMAN EXCAVATIONS AT
OLYMPIA] It has evidently been the dream of his life to do this thing;
and now it is nearly done. You can see by the far away look of his great
blue eyes, and the way he stumbles over the wood and stones in his path,
that his thoughts are of the past and the future, or, at any rate, not
of the earth, earthy. It was he who imagined doing this thing, mentioned
it to the Crown Prince, who got the German Parliament to pay; and now
they have excavated, at a depth of often 20 feet of gravel, the whole
space on which the temples and their surrounding buildings stood. The
space occupied is that bounded on the south by the Alpheus, just where a
smaller river joins it. This triangular space lies at the foot of a
small sand hill. But such a valley as it is! And between the mountains
that bound it you can see the opening to the defiles leading south to
Messina, north to Corinth, east to Sparta; and all round the wooded
hills look down upon the sunny plain, and you can almost see the old
Greeks trooping in from every quarter. The foundations of all the
buildings are found, the bases of walls and pillars in their places, the
steps, the entrances, the pedestals of the statues all in their places.
Twenty-one statues (or the principal part of them) from the pediments
have been found, besides the Hermes and Bacchus of Praxiteles, and
numbers of Roman statues, and a lovely Greek figure of the Winged
Victory descending. The Hermes is splendid. He carries the infant
Bacchus on his arm, such a sweet child; the head was only found last
week. The early statues from the pediment are very powerful, massive and
expressive, but not so delicate nor so exquisitely true in artistic
power. I almost think the whole scene impressed me most. The great
temple of Zeus stands in the centre of the ground, its mighty pillars
shattered by earthquake. One sees the pedestal of the gold figure of
Zeus sixty feet high, which was taken from Byzantium; one sees all round
the other temples. The one to Hera is one of the oldest. Pelops has a
temple too; but, being a hero who died, not a god who lives always, its
entrance is to the setting sun, not on the East like those of the rest.
Then there is the Gymnasium, where the youths practised with the rough
stones, that they might not slip in wrestling, and the smooth ones for
their masters still lying in their places. Beyond are the eleven
treasure houses, built by eleven of the Greek towns, each for their own
votive offerings to the gods, which on great feast days were opened and
their glories displayed. Then I was interested to see the one that
belonged to Megara. There is a great arched passage, leading from the
space where the altars were, thro’ which, after sacrificing to the gods,
the judges and competitors in solemn procession walked, not being
visible to the people assembled to see the games, till they came out of
the passage. Two statues, one of Fortune and one of Nemesis, were found,
which watched over this way—the one supposed to remind competitors how
Fortune might favour or injure them, the other to warn the judges and
competitors alike of the punishment which certainly overtakes any breach
of fairness. We saw the stone from which the runners started; and,
exactly 600 feet beyond, where they knew it ought to be, these Germans
dug down twenty-one feet thro’ the gravel, and found the goal or
opposite starting place. We saw the men washing tiny little bronze
figures of animals about one and a half inches long, which they had just
found, which are supposed to be votive offerings from the very poor to
the god. They are green with age now.
[Sidenote: HERR KURTZIUS]
These Germans leave in a month or two; and the 500 men cease working.
They will be dreadfully missed; for they have brought work and money,
and civilisation and visitors, right up into the heart of the country.
The place will be left—the Greek Pompeii—to the Greeks to take care of.
They have to build a museum and arrange the treasures. Herr Kurtzius
carries away all he has learned. He has sent to Berlin the casts and
plans and maps; and there they are making models of the thing as he
found it, and as he thinks it was of old. He takes, one may say—nothing;
but one sees that to him to have done what enables him to _know_ is all.
He doesn’t look as if he worked for fame, or for others, but to know and
to see. As he showed us the things, now and then he flashed up, as if it
were all before him, and spoke of the life that had been as if he _saw_,
sometimes gently stroked the faces of the statues, pointing out how
perfect they were; now and again his eyes looked out as to some further
thought he did not tell.
We post this at Patras, where we arrived safely to-night (April 16th);
to-morrow we go by steamer to Athens, where I hope to find news of you
all.
Achmetaga, Eubœa,
April 24th, 1880.
OCTAVIA TO HER MOTHER.
... I must try to tell you something of all we have been seeing. We left
Athens on Tuesday at five o’clock in the morning, having engaged a
carriage to take us to Thebes. It was an exquisite morning, and we drove
by Eleusis thro’ a pass of Cithæron, supposed to be that of Eleuthera.
We saw the ruins of the fortress of the ancient Greeks guarding the
Attic end of the pass. As we came down on the Bœotian side, a
magnificent view of Parnassus opened on our left; the site of Platæa was
in sight; but nothing remains to mark it, as seen from a distance; far
away to the East we saw the grand snow-covered range of mountains in
Eubœa, and the beautiful peak of Delphi (Delphi in Eubœa) rising highest
in the chain. When we got to Thebes, which stands very picturesquely on
a hill, we drove thro’ its main street, thro’ the savage barking of
fierce dogs, and rather wild-looking people. Mr. Petousi, the deputy to
whose care Mr. Noel had recommended us, was away; so we drove on to the
house of Mrs. Theagenes, to whom Dr. Hill had given us an introduction.
We were quite unexpected, but were at once received most kindly, and
arrangements were made for us to stay all night. Mrs. Theagenes is the
widow of the Colonel who tried to help about the freedom of those young
Englishmen near Marathon, and who went to see the brigands about them.
He felt the matter so deeply, that it is said to have caused his
death.... He seems to have been a man of culture, and thought and
principle, and a friend of General Church and the early Greek patriots.
His books and pictures remain; and his widow and son and daughter were
_most_ kind.... They took us out to see the town, which was dirty, and
looked neglected. We did not come upon traces of any progress or life.
Of course we may be wrong; and we were most touched by their kindness;
but the town did not inspire one with hope. Next day we had a splendid
drive across to Chalcis; the road, an excellent one, leads down in sight
of the Euripus and Eubœan mountains. The fortifications at Chalcis are
_very_ picturesque. [Sidenote: MR. NOEL’S HOUSE IN EUBŒA] We slept at
Chalcis at the house of a Mr. Boudouris, whose sister was carried off by
brigands many years ago from there, but very kindly treated, till
ransomed.... From Chalcis we started next morning at daybreak, on mules,
under the charge of a sort of head man of Mr. Noel’s, not the steward
but another, and a second servant. It was a very impressive journey, and
gave one an idea of remoteness. For eight hours we went steadily on over
hills and along ravines, beyond all roads, with nothing but rough bridle
paths. The forests were beautiful, the mountains grand, the sea fair and
smooth as a lake in the distance, but _not_ a house, nor a trace of man
did we pass for hours. We came along beside a lovely half stream, half
river, in a deep ravine, set with fir and plane, and oak trees, and with
great bushes of white heath. At last we came upon a sort of clearance in
the forest, like an English village, only without any road to it, and in
sight, and quite near, of mountains on three sides, one covered with
snow. Here and there among the wooded hills there were cleared fields of
corn, maize, and vine, well-built stone houses, very small, but with
tiled roofs clustered at the foot of one wooded hill, on the slope of
which, above the cottages but below the trees which crown it, stood the
house we are now in, with its wide vine-covered trellised verandah, its
walled garden and great well. We rode up and alighted in the great yard,
round which the long stone houses for grain, the stables, and houses for
oxen, and the wood-sheds are built. We were led into the drawing-room,
and then into our bedroom, which looked like that in an English country
house. We looked out on the park-like scenery and the busy village
below, and felt what a work had been done. Here, forty-six years ago,
came three young foreigners quite alone. Mr. Noel was but twenty. The
place was all forest. The few people in straw huts had gone to the other
side of the estate, fifty miles off, to be away from the road—this
little bridle path—to get away from the Turks. They had built their
doors low that the Turks mightn’t lead their horses in. Hardly could the
peasants be persuaded to come back, so frightened were they. Fever
seized first the brother-in-law, then Mr. Noel, who was lifted on to his
horse by Mr. Müller, and taken to Chalcis. The brother-in-law died. Dr.
Hill, then in Athens, heard there were two young men ill at Chalcis,
took a boat, as there were no steamers, and came and fetched them, took
them to his own house, and nursed Mr. Noel for a year. “No doubt he
saved Noel’s life,” says Mr. Müller quietly, quite unconscious of the
spiritedness of their own action. They returned, built, planted,
encouraged, watched, and have made of this a little sort of oasis in the
desert, in its life, like that gathered round an English landlord. And
yet, oh how different! The life here reminds me very much of that led by
Flora MacIvor and her brother. The same loyalty to Mr. Frank Noel
appears to prevail among the people; the same distance from law makes
him the judge among them; the same wild habits seem to prevail; the same
virtues, and those only.... There is no road to this place; and when
Mrs. F. Noel was married she wanted a piano. “How did you get it here?”
I asked. “We had it brought in a small boat to the sea-shore, about
three hours from here; and some fête day, when the men were not working,
Mr. Noel went out among them and said that I wanted my piano, and which
of them would go and carry it? Thirty-six of them sprang up to go, and
they carried it for three hours over the open country in relays of
twelve. [Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF THE NOELS] Mr. Noel and I, of course,
went too. In the evening they came in, and we had a good supper, and I
played to them. They would have been much hurt if we had offered to
pay.” Another time Mr. Noel came in from seeing some of the tenants, and
said, “—— has been to me to ask me to lend him one of my field guards to
help him to carry off by force the girl he was engaged to, who has
broken off the affair with her parents’ (consent). I told him it
wouldn’t do, but that they must return the presents.” “And double them,”
added Mr. Müller. “Certainly,” said Mr. Noel. “A girl has been waiting
here all day to see you,” said Mr. Noel, “she has brought a large bottle
for you to give her some medicine; the gendarmes came to take her
husband; and her blood is quite cold ever since.” And this sort of thing
goes on incessantly. One hears too of one man, who lost his presence of
mind when one of the great forest fires surrounded the seventy
villagers, and Mr. Noel, who had been three days and three nights trying
to stop it. He lay on the ground, and would not stir; Mr. Noel raised
him and dragged him on and on, and, as the man says, saved his life. It
is beautiful to see young Mrs. Noel among them all, so gentle and brave
and stately. It was such a picture last night, as she stood near the
house door in the great yard. The great oxen were feeding or lying
about; about twenty men and women, in the beautiful costume of the
country, stood about listening to her, and watching her one little
child, a girl of nearly two years old, who was carried about and petted,
first by one and then another. It was near sunset; and the long sloping
rays fell on the group. Mr. Noel was away for some days; and she and the
tiny child were the only representatives of the race that rules here by
education and gentleness. The rest just look, love, and obey.
Constantinople,
May 6th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
I don’t know if it is my fault, or the strong preconceived impression,
or the absence of sun; but this place feels to me like a cursed or
doomed one, a city of corruption and decay. It doesn’t strike me as the
least beautiful.
We went on Sunday, which was the Greek Easter Eve, to the midnight
service here. We got capital places in the part railed off for the
priests, where no ladies are allowed, nor the congregation. At midnight
the old tradition says that fire comes down from heaven.
There seems to be no distinct belief in _that_, as a miracle, here; but
it was a beautiful service. The priest came out at midnight with the
light; and rapidly every single soul there lighted the taper he held,
the light spreading from the priests with wonderful rapidity. The church
was crowded with earnest, rather rugged looking men. They read the
Gospel on Easter Sunday in eight languages. They go out at night to look
for Christ, and come back saying, “He is risen.” There was a good deal
of dress and ceremony, but a good deal of fervour.
[Sidenote: A TURKISH CEMETERY]
We have seen a great deal since I wrote to you,—the large silent mosques
with their space and simplicity, the triple walls which surround the
town, with ancient Greek inscriptions built into them. The Golden Gate
in _them_, thro’ which the emperors made triumphal entry; the walled-up
gate, so dealt with because the Turks believe the Christians will
re-enter by that gate; wonderful old Christian churches now converted
into mosques, with the crosses and Christian symbols mutilated—one,
however, very beautiful, where the mosaics were preserved. Then we have
seen the large vault underground, supported by 1001 columns in old
times, built to supply Byzantium with water; the strange cemeteries of
the Turks, the dismallest of places; the stones high and narrow are
tumbling about in every direction like ninepins; the graves are in quite
untold numbers by the road sides, on banks, in ditches, anywhere and
everywhere, without fence, without protection, without reverence; even
the cypress trees among them look forlorn, and the stones much more
forlorn because of the vermilion and emerald green and cobalt and gold,
which once made them gay. It was such a contrast to cross to Skutari,
where the British dead, who fell in the Crimea, lie. The ground is
enclosed with a well-built wall; it is quite bright with flowering trees
and shrubs, and lies on the sunniest slope overlooking the blue sea.
Comparatively few graves have any stone, or name, or record; but the
greenest, brightest, sunniest, best cared-for turf covers them. The
inscriptions suggest such stories; here the record of two brothers about
20, surviving one another 4 days; several erected by brother officers,
one to a private by his companions, one by a young sister to her
brother, who, she says, “cheerfully surrendered his life to his
country”; nineteen, twenty, even eighteen once or twice, are frequent
ages for the dead. The hospital, where Miss Nightingale worked, stands
just above and looks so good, and solid, and in order. We went a ride
yesterday round by the Sweet Waters of Europe, all round the Golden
Horn. We came back thro’ the Greek quarter. It was such a comfort to see
the windows clean and bright, and without the dismal wooden lattice
work, which shuts in the Turkish houses, and the women with bright,
uncovered faces sitting at the windows sewing.
I think so constantly of you all, tho’ I write nothing about it.
On the Danube, off Turn Severin,
May 13th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
[Sidenote: IMPRESSIONS OF THE SERVIANS]
I am sitting on board one of the Danube steamers in the twilight writing
to you. We are lying at Turn Severin for the night, because they want
daylight to go thro’ the Iron Gates. We had a good passage from
Constantinople to Varna; the Bosphorus was very beautiful as we sailed
up. Just beyond Therapia the population on its shores seems almost
suddenly to cease. It makes one feel how it is only the overflow from
Constantinople. Beyond Therapia one sees little but Genoese castles, a
light-house or two, and a _very_ few tiny villages, cliffs, bare heights
and points. It is strange to see the fortified narrowest part, kept by
such different nations, and a point where Byzantine and Turk of old
looked at one another across the narrow water from their respective
fortresses, and measured their respective strength. Varna has no good
port; they say it is as far from the steamer as Jaffa, and the passage
horrid in rough weather, because no mole is built; but happily it was
calm, when we went on shore in a large boat with four rowers. I was
interested to land in Bulgaria. One wonders what these young nations are
going to be, somewhat as one does about children. The country looked
strange and very uninhabited; but it was much more beautiful than I
expected. We went by railway thro’ it to Rustchuk. First we went thro’
the flat bottom of a valley, bounded by low wooded hills. A river flowed
thro’ it, which often spread into what looked like lakes, they might be
floods. Further on, we seemed to mount and pass over hills—I suppose low
spurs of the Balkans. There we saw miles and miles of the most exquisite
spring-green woods, spreading over waves and waves of hill away to the
far distance. We came to downs too, great stretches of swelling hills
and hollows of green grass that had never been cultivated; on them here
and there we saw herds of buffaloes and horses feeding. At Rustchuk we
came upon this boat. We sailed between Roumania and Bulgaria first; then
we came to Servia on the right bank of the river, and soon we shall come
to Austria on the left. It has been exquisitely beautiful to watch the
great stretches of river, with the sky reflected in them, to walk up and
down the deck and watch the sun rise and set, to pass the willowy
islands, and note the great tracts of uninhabited land, decreasing, I
suppose, as we get higher up the river. Yesterday we passed numbers of
wild-looking Servians. I never saw any people look so like savages. They
were in funny boats just made of a trunk of a tree hollowed out, and cut
short off at either end. They looked heavy and clumsy and very
primitive; the men had little clumsy wooden paddles, and were dressed so
strangely, and looked so poor and crushed down with labour. They were
mostly fishing; those on the shore were dressed in something exactly the
colour of the sandy banks. I wondered such people could exist on the
shores of a great water highway like this. A gentleman on board told me
they were “all robbers and murderers,” which made me very angry, for I
don’t think he knew anything about them. I was glad to remember Miss
Irby, and to be able to say a quiet word about knowing a lady who had
worked among them for years; and that I did not believe she had found
them such dreadful hardened people as he seemed to think. “Oh,” he said,
“she probably lives in one of the towns, and has a dragoman to intervene
between her and the people.” “No,” I replied, “I believe not; I think
she has travelled all over the country, she is working about schools
there, and, I fancy, knows the people.”
We pass by little villages with minarets, and red roofs, and then for
miles not a house again, only the great river going on and on; sometimes
we pass a funny raft, sometimes a Greek steamer or tug; always every
change in sky or shore reflects itself in this great river.
Approaching Pesth,
May 16th.
[Sidenote: VIEWS FROM THE DANUBE]
The morning after I wrote this, I was up at 3 o’clock, because the
steamer was said to start before the dawn, and I wanted to see the Iron
Gates. I came up on deck, and all was very still; the stars reflected in
the water. The shore of each bank was still quite flat; but, in front,
one saw the hills. Just as the sun rose with its round globe out of the
water, the boat started. In what seemed but a few minutes after we had
been in the flat plain, the gates of the hills appeared just in front of
us. The morning sun lighted the great cliffs on one side of the
water-paved ravine, and left the other walls of rock in deep blue
shadow, while just in the place where the rocks on either side looked as
if they met and closed the passage, a wreath of rose-coloured morning
mist lay, which, gently rising with the sun’s heat, spread itself in
faint, thin, lovely streaks along the wooded hills, rising gradually and
losing themselves in the blue sky. Everything was reflected in the sheet
of smooth water. The river is almost at its fullest, I believe. This
same large steamer can come from Rustchuk to Pesth. I believe the ice is
melted, and had not yet reached the sea, as it were; so we saw less of
the rapids than if it had been later in the year; but, here and there,
the river was all churned into foam; and, in places, a great line of
white breakers showed where a great ridge of rock ran right across the
channel. Nothing could exceed the beauty of that sunrise scene; but the
scenery is even grander further up, in what is called the Defile of
Kasan. It was very interesting to see distinctly the remains of Trajan’s
road. What a work to make a road thro’ such a defile, without gunpowder!
One sees the strong hand of the Roman, as one watches the road cut on
the buttresses of the great cliffs above the deep, wild water, and
traces still the clear-cut holes in which wooden supports were placed;
and there is the Latin inscription still on the rocks. After we had
passed thro’ the wonderful defile we came where the Danube spreads out
almost like a lake; and, since then, we have come on and on, up and up
it, watching sunrise and sunset, and moonlight and thunderstorm; seeing
the fortresses that guard it, the very few villages and towns on its
banks, that is to say very few in comparison with the miles of
uninhabited shore, lovely woods, of island after island covered with
thick woods, of great plains over which the cloud shadows float. It has
been a most interesting and most delightful life. Miss Y. took a private
cabin, where we have all our things as comfortably about us as if we
were at home, and can make our tea or lie down within view of the river;
but mainly we use the higher deck as our sitting-room; there we have two
easy chairs, and our work, our books, our writing by us. Or we pace the
deck till the stars come out. We shall be quite sorry when it comes to
an end. The tourists go by train now, the great bulk of them at least; a
few come on board just to see the Iron Gates, but they leave at Orsova,
and don’t even see the Defile of Kasan; nor can they realise anything of
the great history of the river, how it lives till it reaches the Gates;
of its course thro’ this great Hungarian plain, past the high sandy
cliffs which protect its tiny villages on the one shore from the great
floods which must break at times violently over its low left bank. They
do not see its free towns, still exempt from military service, except in
time of war; nor note the mouths of the Drave and the Theiss, and the
thousands of streams that feed and swell the Danube. They do not see the
floods out, and the people in their flat-bottomed boats sailing about
over the meadows, nor the herds of grey cattle, nor the vineyards on the
slopes, nor the reedy banks, nor the lonely stacks of wood in the
forests, nor mount the paddle-box and see the country people on the fore
part of the ship, Servians, and Hungarians and Bulgarians, the strange
costumes, the funny German life; nor see the local fête, the fireworks
from the boats on the flooded meadows, the corn-grinding mills in the
middle of the river; they cannot watch these, with the free cool air
blowing all round them, and the sun shining, and every mist and wreath
and change of cloud visible all round in the whole space of sky. I wish
we did not get to Pesth to-day. But we shall have some more of the
Danube between Vienna and Linz. I do not the least know what we shall do
beyond Dresden. I must write when we have fixed, with fresh directions
about letters. I think of you so often, dear Mama, and wish you were
here. I fancy you would enjoy the kind of thing so much.
We shall post this at Pesth. I suppose some day they will prevent the
floods here. It is beautiful to see how much of the earth has still to
be filled with happy home life; and, near lovely things, this is _not_
the impression one gets in England.
[Sidenote: IMPRESSIONS OF NUREMBERG]
Nuremberg,
May 24th, 1880.
TO HER MOTHER.
We saw the Rathhaus where the Imperial Diet met till 1806.... The town
looks very comfortable and flourishing, as if the old things had been
taken into use and would stay;—not like Italy and Constantinople, as if
every breath of purer or more living thought would sweep away some of
the beauty, and substitute hideous Paris or London models. Trees grow
among the houses; and children play round them, and clean industrious
women knit at their doors; and comfortable little shops are opened in
them; and you see “Bürger Schule” put up over their doors; and yet they
aren’t all torn down and replaced with rows of houses, like Camden Town,
and shops like Oxford St.; and still these gardens for the people
everywhere look reproach on me, when I think of England, and every tree
and creeper and space of green grass in the town reminds me of our
unconsumed smoke, and how it poisons our plants, and dims the colour of
all things for us....
We hope to make a few useful outlines here for windows, &c., in possible
future houses in London.
Harrogate,
August 25th, 1880.
TO MRS. SHAEN.
I have been very much delighted lately with some correspondence with
some of my fellow-workers about the Artizans’ Dwellings Acts. We had a
great blow about the work itself just as I left town,—one likely to
create dissension and call up bad feeling; and somehow the
correspondence about it has, instead, shown how nobly men respond, when
they manage to find the right way to look at things. I often wonder how
men manage to get into such messes, when human hearts ring so true if
struck rightly. It has been really quite beautiful to see how men will
put temptation and bad feeling (even when almost justified) under their
feet, when reminded of the cause for which they should work. I don’t
even know that it is a question of reminding. The good men see nobly and
act accordingly. I am obliged to keep very much out of all (even thought
of) work. The home claims are very strong just now, and my own strength
not very great. It is very strange to have to put the old things so
wholly second. I do not know, however, how to be entirely sad about it.
I often think that now people want more to see how noble private life
should be, and can be, than to take up public work,—at any rate
exclusively.
Harrogate,
September 4th, 1880.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
If you were to spend all your time from now till Christmas in guessing
what Octavia was doing last Friday afternoon you would never guess
aright, so I will tell you. She was acting to a Harrogate audience the
part of Piety in the MacDonald’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.” On Thursday we
had spent the day at Harewood, and on our return found Lily and Bob here
waiting to ask if she would act for poor Grace, then lying seriously ill
of hæmorrhage, at Ilkley. The rooms for the performance were engaged,
and it seemed impossible to postpone it. Octavia agreed and learned her
part (eight pages) that night. I cannot tell you how beautiful she
looked, and how lovely her voice sounded. It was _most_ pathetic to see
the MacDonalds so brave and energetic; but all so pale and feeling-full.
Poor Mr. Jamieson acted Mr. Brisk. MacDonald was so chivalrous and
beautiful to his poor wife and to us,—forgot no tenderness to her, or
politeness to Miss Yorke and to me.
[Sidenote: OCTAVIA IN THE “PILGRIM’S PROGRESS”]
September 20th, 1880.
TO MR. BLYTH.
I was grieved to hear of so much wrong in the court, and to think of you
in the lovely autumn, trying to stem it. But, in one sense, one is never
lonely in one’s efforts to stem wrong. So mighty is the Power that
fights with us.
Do you ever think that the want you feel in the people is due less to
the amount than to the kind of help. Part of it is due to their own
selves, there is no denying it; but is it not also due, in part, to many
of the present workers acting rather from a supposed height, than face
to face, and heart to heart, from real human sympathy and friendship? I
think so. The outward gift never wins gratitude, or calls up the
gracious sense of affection. The human sympathy always does. Do you
know, by the way, Lowell’s “Sir Launfal”?