PART V GREECE

XV FROM CORFU TO CORINTH

A little narrow-gauge railway runs across the kingdom of Greece from

Patras to the town of Corinth, hugging the Gulf of Corinth, and then,

crossing a ridge that divides the isthmus, follows the shore of the

Saronic Gulf to Athens. There are altogether about six hundred miles

of railroad under operation in Greece, and about three hundred miles

abandoned. You can find the track of the latter in various parts of

the country, but the most important of the abandoned routes was to run

up through Thessaly, the northern part of the kingdom, to the Turkish

frontier. A little more patience and a little more money would have

carried it through and made a splendid thing for the entire country,

because the people of southern Greece do not raise food enough to

supply their own wants, while in northern Greece there is a good deal

to spare. The difference in the price of bread in the Peloponnesus and

in Thessaly is unnaturally great, for the Thessalians have few markets

and the Peloponnesians have few farms. This railroad was expected to

equalize things, but unfortunately it has not been completed and the

rails lie rusting until they are stolen for old iron.

Brindisi is the gateway to the East. The steamers for India, China and

Japan touch there coming and going, to leave and take passengers for

and from Paris, London, Berlin and other parts of Europe, who can thus

save the long voyage of seven or eight days from Bremen and Hamburg

and five and six days from London and Havre, and cross Europe by rail.

Special trains with dining-cars and sleepers are run in connection with

the steamers which carry the mails also, making Paris and Berlin in

thirty-six hours from Brindisi and London in forty-eight.

When you leave Brindisi going east you enter Hellenic ground. The

Adriatic, like some other beauties, has an uncertain temper and behaves

badly sometimes. It is called “the blue Adriatic,” “the gem of seas,”

“the sapphire sea,” and by other poetic names, but it is also “the

stormy Adriatic,” and an old seaman told me that “it could kick up more

sea than the Atlantic Ocean on the slightest provocation.” The steamers

for Greece generally leave Brindisi at midnight, so as to reach the

opposite coast early in the morning, and there, when you awaken, if you

please, you can see the sun rise upon masses of solid snow that crown

the mountains of the Albanian coast of Turkey. The land of mythology is

before you. Every island, every mountain, every valley was the scene

of some fable, the abode of some god, or a battlefield that you read

about in the Greek classics when you were in college. The places and

the names of ancient history are brought home in a familiar way, and as

you gaze from the deck of the steamer upon them they look like the real

thing.

At Corfu, a beautiful little island lying off the Turkish coast, you

get your first view of oriental life and customs, and a girl with a

kodak is kept busy taking snap-shots of the queer things she sees.

There is a temptation to photograph all the ruins, because they remind

you of the warriors, heroes and philosophers you studied about when a

boy, and Greece is full of them. The island of Ithaca excites vivid

recollections, and the Phæacian ship which brought Ulysses home lies

in the harbor of Corfu, turned to stone. It is now occupied by a

monastery of Greek monks and called by the humiliating name of Mouse

Island. According to the Odyssey, after he was wrecked, Ulysses landed

at Corfu, swimming to the shore. He made up a bed of dead leaves on the

rocks as a precaution against rheumatism, and, worn out by excitement,

peril and fatigue, sank into a dreamless sleep. There he was discovered

by Nausicaa, a beautiful princess, upon whose charms Homer loves to

linger. She was the daughter of King Alcinous, and when Ulysses awoke

she led him to her father’s palace, with its exquisite gardens and

luscious fruits. The local guides, who endeavor to adjust their moral

consciousness to the curiosity of visitors, and the topography of

the island to the demands made upon them, show the exact place where

Ulysses swam ashore, and tell you that the garden of the King Alcinous

is now occupied by the country palace of King George of Greece, one

of the most democratic and considerate of monarchs, who loves to have

the people enjoy everything that belongs to him. He opens his gates to

strangers and subjects alike. Nobody is required to pay a fee or even

to ask permission, although the proper thing to do is to leave a card

at the porter’s lodge and a word of appreciation, which that official

takes entirely to himself. One of the streets in Corfu is named in

honor of King Alcinous, and Ulysses is considered a sort of stepson of

whom the community is exceedingly proud.

Corfu has been the scene of many exciting events both in modern and

mythological times. When we arrived the people were more or less

excited over the action of the government in expelling the late Mahmoud

Damad Pasha, brother-in-law of the Sultan of Turkey, and Hadji Kadri

and Siret, two other Turkish exiles, who were accused of sedition and

conspiracy, and, having fled from Constantinople, took refuge upon the

beautiful Greek island, where they were received with warm sympathy and

treated with distinguished respect. The government of Greece, however,

could not very well furnish an asylum to Turkish fugitives of such

eminent notoriety. The relations between the two countries have been

cordial since the close of the war four years ago, and the Grecian

ministry considered it prudent not to offer any new cause of offense.

So the Sultan’s brother-in-law and his companions were requested to

leave Corfu and go to Switzerland, which is the most hospitable country

in Europe to political exiles.

Corfu hates the Turks. No people on the earth’s surface hates them

more, not even the Bulgarians or Macedonians, although more than two

centuries have passed since the wrongs of which they complain were

committed. From 1815 to 1863, with the other Ionian islands, Corfu was

occupied by the English, and in the latter year, upon the accession of

the present King George to the throne, Mr. Gladstone persuaded Queen

Victoria to give them back to Greece. That accounts for a statue of Mr.

Gladstone, before the university in Athens, erected by the students a

few years ago.

Fortunately for those who go to Corfu to enjoy the climate--and it

is a favorite winter resort for people with weak lungs, and other

invalids--the English administration built a fine system of roads which

are still kept in comparatively good repair, although the modern Greeks

will never be celebrated for road-building. You can drive from one end

of the island to the other and, during the spring and autumn, it is

as near paradise as any place on earth. The late Empress of Austria

had a beautiful villa on the outskirts of the city. It was proposed to

bring the late Czar of Russia to Corfu in the hope that his life might

be saved, and numerous other famous invalids have sought health and

strength in its glorious sunshine and soft, but invigorating air.

The island embraces about 277 square miles, and is thickly settled,

having more than 115,000 inhabitants Most of the surface is covered

with olive groves. It is estimated that there are more than 4,000,000

trees, which are allowed to grow without pruning and develop a beauty

and attain a size unparalleled elsewhere. The manufacture and export of

preserved olives and olive oil is the chief occupation of the people,

but they raise a good deal of other fruit and wine, and their cheese

made from goat’s milk is famous in the London and Paris markets.

To the beauty of the scenery and the delightful climate is added the

charm that always attends the mysteries of mythology, and besides the

romance of Ulysses many other stories of ancient days were located

there. Near the base of a picturesque old citadel with twin towers is

a low, circular structure dating back to the sixth or seventh century

before Christ, but the inscription is still decipherable and records

that this monument was erected to Menerates, son of Tlasias, who

lost his life by drowning. Near by are two or three monuments erected

in honor of officials of the British government who distinguished

themselves during the occupation.

Sailing toward Patras, the steamer from Corfu soon passes the

Ambracian Gulf, where Octavius laid the foundation of his influence

in Rome by a victory over the fleet of his rival, Mark Antony, and a

little farther down is the island of Leucas, where, according to the

ancient story-tellers, Sappho plunged into the sea because Phaon did

not return her love. A little farther on is Ithaca, whose connection

with the Odyssey has made it familiar to every student of Greek, for

the wanderings and misfortunes, the sufferings and the fortitude of

Ulysses, the king of this island, have been handed down to us in one

of the most fascinating stories of adventure. His descendants occupy

Ithaca to-day, and are distinguished for their bold seamanship, their

love of home, their hospitality and their courage, and their mercantile

instincts have made them rich. The most important product of the island

is a strong aromatic wine. They show you where Homer lived in the town

of Stavros, and an ancient staircase cut in the rock leads past a Greek

church to a rectangular forum hewn in the side of the mountain. It is

surrounded by seats and looks like an ancient place of worship, but is

claimed to be the place where Homer had a school.

Nearly every natural phenomenon upon the island is described in the

Odyssey--even a stalactite cave to which any boy in town will lead

you through a vineyard and over stony goat pastures. The entrance

is narrow, and it is hard work for fat men to squeeze through, but

with a little effort you can enter a damp chamber about fifty feet

in diameter and thirty feet in height, from the roof of which hang

numerous stalactites like those to be seen in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.

If you want to know how it looks, read Book XIII of the Odyssey, where

Homer describes the grotto of the nymphs.

The suitors of Penelope waited for the return of Telemachus upon a

little island on the east of Ithaca, and on the island of Zante, from

which we get so many currants and raisins, the fishermen still collect

pitch to calk their boats from a spring mentioned by Herodotus.

Patras is one of the most enterprising commercial towns of Greece,

and one of the oldest. It is second to Athens in population and has

one-third of all the commerce of the country. In some respects it is

the most modern of Grecian towns, but its history can be traced back at

least seven centuries before Christ. Patras was also one of the first

centers of Christian teaching, and, according to local tradition, the

Apostle Andrew was crucified and buried there. He is the patron saint

of the town and the cathedral is dedicated to his memory.

Near by is a curious spring, to which is attached a superstition that

has kept its hold upon the people since the age of mythology, when,

as now, sick people looked upon their reflections in the water and by

their appearance judged as to the probability of recovery. The effect

appears to be a matter of light. If the sun is obscured by clouds or

happens to be in a certain part of the heavens every face reflected in

the water shows a deathlike pallor. With a clear sky and at high noon

the reflection is always full and ruddy with color.

From Patras to Corinth, along the edge of the gulf, through olive

groves and currant plantations, with a range of snow-clad mountains

on one side and picturesque hills on the other, is a delightful

journey. The culture of currants seems to absorb the greatest degree of

attention. They tell me that toothsome little fruit was formerly called

“corenth,” taking its name from the historic city. The currant trade

is the largest and the most profitable in Greece, and a considerable

part of the cultivated area is planted like the vineyards of Italy, in

rows about three feet apart, with single stalks, which are trimmed down

every fall in order to strengthen the roots. New shoots spring out with

the sunshine in March and April, and, by August, are loaded with large

light and dark currants unlike those grown in America. You can buy them

in boxes at any grocery store for mince pies, fruit-cake, plum pudding

or that sort of thing. The development of this industry has been

gradual. In 1830, after the independence of Greece was established,

the crop amounted to only about 1,900 tons. In 1899 it was 153,500

tons, and it was a poor year. The average for the last ten years

has been about 170,000 tons, and the value of the currants exported

annually has reached nearly $8,000,000. The largest quantity goes to

England and France. The United States takes 10,000 tons, which, you

must appreciate, is an enormous quantity of dried currants. The French

wine-growers use them for toning up their wine.

While currant-culture is profitable, there is a good deal of risk in

it. The crop is easily affected both by drought and excessive rains.

Severe wind-storms may blow the fruit off the bushes, and the hills

surrounding the Gulf of Corinth, which is the most productive section

of the country, are exposed to storms which at any day may convert a

good crop into a poor one.

Olive oil is also a source of wealth, and the beautiful silver-leaved

trees are one of the pleasantest features of the landscape. Olive trees

live to a great age. It is asserted by some who delight to entertain

travelers that groves are now standing which bore fruit in the days of

Socrates and Demosthenes, and near Eleusis, trees are pointed out which

may have been standing for 2,800 years. The trunks are enormous and are

perforated with holes, new bark having grown around the wounds made by

decay. Most of the olives are consumed in the country. Much of the oil

is sent to France.

Owing to the infrequent and irregular rains, irrigation is necessary

everywhere in Greece; and every farmer has a simple and limited

irrigation system of his own. The water is pumped up from wells by

blindfolded mules, horses or oxen, and pours into cement reservoirs

set at such an elevation as will give a natural flow into the fields.

Windmills are not used.

At every railway station were crowds of people, many of them in

the picturesque native costume, which is a cross between that of a

ballet-dancer and a Highland chieftain. The kilts are white cotton,

accordion-plaited, and worn over white woolen tights, with black

garters below the knee. The shoe or slipper is without a heel, curling

up over the toe like an old-fashioned skate, and having a large

rosette or pompon of silk or black cotton upon the tip. The jacket

is beautifully embroidered in gold or silver braid, sleeveless and

open in front. The shirt sleeves of cotton are full and flowing, and

the front of the shirt is plaited. The collar is a stiff circlet,

embroidered with gold thread or braid; the girdle is often of leather

or sometimes a sort of sash. A Greek gentleman in full dress or a

servant in complete livery will wear a pistol and two or three daggers

stuck in between his belt and his shirt-front in a handy sort of way.

The peasant wears a leathern belt, with a sheathed dagger or a pouch

over the pit of his stomach, from which the handles of a knife and a

revolver usually protrude. The Greek still wears the red Phrygian cap

upon his head, and the tassel dangles down upon his shoulder in an

artistic way.

A “well-greaved Greek” is the most picturesque looking object in

Europe. No other costume will compare with his; but, like all national

peculiarities, it is gradually becoming obsolete. You see it in the

country and towns of the interior, but in the cities few people wear

it. The aristocracy dress their servants in that way, which has made it

unpopular among the mechanics and the working classes generally. They

fear people will mistake them for household servants.

In the rural districts, however, those objections do not prevail, and

almost all the natives at the railway stations and the few men who

were digging in the fields were in native dress. Their picturesqueness

would be greatly enhanced if they were a little neater about their

persons. At first acquaintance the modern Greek does not inspire

either admiration or confidence. He is very dirty as to his garments,

as to his habits and as to his house, and, I grieve to say, judging

from appearances, that he lets his wife and sisters carry more than

their share of the load. Most of the labor in the fields, as we passed

through on the railroads, was being done by women. We saw women

staggering along the highways under heavy cargoes, which they carried

upon their heads, and clambering down from the mountains with big

bundles of fagots upon their backs. In fact, the men seemed to have

selected the easy jobs. None of them had burdens upon their heads or

backs, and very few were toiling in the fields. They were driving carts

and watching the sheep, goats and swine while their wives and daughters

were swinging the hoe.

“As beautiful as a Greek shepherd” used to be a favorite phrase with

writers of romance, but I doubt if those who used it had ever seen

one, for the ideal Greek shepherd is not visible to the ordinary eye.

The men who tend the flocks are stupid, filthy-looking fellows, with

blank faces, matted beards and clothing that apparently has never seen

a laundry. The ancient Greek knew all about statuary and architecture.

That we know by evidences that have been found under the soil of his

country; but the modern Greek of the working class lives in a house

that is comfortless, unclean and dismal, with no evidences of beauty

or taste or culture. He needs whitewash, chloride of lime and carbolic

acid, although it is claimed by many that his intellect is as strong

and active as those of his prototype who lived twenty centuries ago.

In passing through the railway towns of the “currant country” nature

alone is lovely. Everything else seems stricken with poverty and

neglect. The men who hang around the railway stations seem to be

indifferent to their condition and do not inspire either respect or

admiration, although their conversational powers seem to be well

developed, and nearly every one of them carried a string of beads--not

to count his prayers, but to occupy his hands while talking. Beads

are aids to conversation. Members of parliament use them when making

speeches. I never learned that Demosthenes required any such auxiliary

to eloquence, but am assured that the activity of the brain and the

fluency of tongue are increased by fingering them.

Modern Corinth, which stands at the head of the gulf, is a town of

four thousand inhabitants, having been founded only forty years ago,

after the last houses of the ancient town had been overturned by an

earthquake. During recent years its prosperity has been considerably

revived by the completion of a ship-canal, cut through the clay ridge

that divides the Gulf of Corinth and the Saronic Gulf, which shortens

the journey for ships by two hundred and two miles. The idea of cutting

a canal through that isthmus was proposed by the ancients and was

undertaken by Caesar, Hadrian and Nero. Traces of the work of Nero

still exist. The present canal was built by a French company and opened

in 1893. It is three miles and a half in length, one hundred feet in

breadth, and can accommodate vessels drawing twenty-six feet of water.

There are no locks or sluices, but it is on the tidewater level, with

breakwaters to protect the entrances.

[Illustration: A YOUNG AND AN OLD CORINTHIAN]

Old Corinth, that St. Paul visited three times and possibly four, and

which was one of the most important, populous, immoral and enterprising

cities of his day, is dead and buried. Buttercups and dandelions are

growing upon its grave, as bright and cheerful as those that decorate

the prairies of Kansas or the dooryards of New England. The Grecian

buttercup is not so large nor so beautiful as that we found in Norway,

but it gives one a home feeling to find it everywhere--a universal

flower. New Corinth resembles Santa Fé and other of the adobe towns of

New Mexico and Arizona. It is surrounded by clay cliffs, weatherworn

into fantastic shapes like those of the Rio Grande valley, and the

dust is deep in the unpaved streets. The same lean cattle, mangy dogs

and half-naked children playing in the sunshine; the same diminutive

donkeys, the modern “Greek slaves,” bearing burdens that hide their

bodies and leave only their legs and ears exposed; the same mud fences

and adobe walls that are found in New Mexico; the same bake-ovens

beside the cabins, and women of similar features, wearing similar

garments, picking the live stock out of the children’s hair. Crowds of

men are sitting at tables in front of the cafés, drinking coffee and

talking politics, and the same dilapidated vehicles that you see in the

old Spanish-American settlements were waiting for our arrival at the

railway station.

The town has a beautiful site, at the head of the gulf. The water has

a deep-blue color, with opalescent tints upon the surface. It receded

in ancient times and left a sandy beach upon which goats were browsing

among old barrel-hoops, piles of rubbish and struggling weeds, and

fishermen were leisurely mending their nets beside their boats, or in

the shade of the little shanties in which they keep their implements.

Modern Corinth is surrounded by mighty hills upon which shepherds

were guarding sheep and cattle, and when storms come upon them they

find shelter in the caves that the wind and the rain have burrowed in

the clay cliffs. At the top of the highest hill, the Acro-Corinth, as

it is called, is a medieval fortress erected by the Venetians when

they possessed the country. It is surrounded by ruins of houses and

temples from which the material to build the fort was taken. The view

from the peak, famous even in antiquity, embraces a great part of the

mountainous district on both sides of the Gulf of Corinth, which is

spread out like a map around the observer. In ancient times a watch was

always kept there to signal the approach of an enemy to the people of

the towns and the farmers in the valley below.

The traveler who enters Greece from the west has a continuous view of

Parnassus, which rears its snow-clad summit among less famous mountains

upon the opposite side of the gulf, and beside it is the beautiful

Helicon, the haunt of the Muses. In clear weather the Acropolis of

Athens is visible, the pillars of the Parthenon and the glistening

marble walls of the royal palace.

Near the base of Acro-Corinth is the remarkable spring of Pirene,

which, according to mythology, gushed forth at a stroke of the hoof

of Pegasus, and was bestowed on Sisyphus by the river god Asopus,

in return for his having revealed the hiding-place of the owner’s

daughter, Aegina, who had been carried off by Zeus. Near by are ruins

of a barracks and several dismounted cannon.

In the golden age, four hundred years before Christ, old Corinth was

the most splendid, luxurious and wealthy, the most frivolous and wicked

of all the cities of Greece. It was a commercial metropolis, the

Chicago of that period, a center and focus of financial affairs, and

stood upon a plateau about six miles from the sea, upon the side of

the hill called Acro-Corinth, looking down upon a narrow and beautiful

inlet of blue water, between two ranges of mountains. The Gulf of

Corinth is often compared to the fjords of Norway, but its surroundings

are mild and modest beside their rugged grandeur. It bears a closer

resemblance to the Bosphorus and to the Inland Sea of Japan.

The road which leads from the railway station at new Corinth to the

ruins of the old city is exceptionally good for Greece. It rises with

an almost imperceptible grade toward a group of seven majestic columns,

the earliest examples of the Doric school of architecture extant, and

one of the oldest and most precious monuments of the art, scholarship

and religion of ancient Greece. They are deeply fluted monoliths,

twenty-three and one-half feet high, five feet and eight inches in

diameter at the base and four feet and three inches at the top, with

projecting capitals and heavy entablature. They were once covered with

enamel. Five of them are nearly perfect. The other two have been broken

and the pieces are now held together by iron bands. All have been

gnawed more or less by the tooth of time and show curious wounds, which

look as if they had been cut with a chisel. These pillars are all that

remain of the famous Temple of Apollo, the ideal of Doric architecture,

the noblest, simplest and most natural of all the schools.

Unconscious of their artistic and archeological advantages, which

students travel four thousand miles to enjoy, the Grecian peasants

continue to plow the adjacent fields, and, the day that we rode

through, groups of women with tucked-up skirts were breaking the earth

with heavy hoes and heaping it around the roots of the currant bushes.

Fields of winter wheat were vivid with tender shoots of green, and a

fodder plant that resembles alfalfa was growing bravely on the other

side of formidable fences built with stones stolen from the ruins of

the old metropolis. Here and there is an old-fashioned threshing-floor,

almost as venerable as the pillars of the temple, a circle thirty or

forty feet in diameter, paved with smooth stones, upon which, after the

harvest, the grain is separated from the stalk by driving hoofed cattle

over it. In his Epistle to the Corinthians, Paul recalled to them that

pious injunction in Deuteronomy, “Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when

he treadeth out the corn,” but he might have appealed to them also in

behalf of the blindfolded donkeys that patiently follow the treadmills

to fill the irrigation reservoirs so that the plants may live when the

earth is dry.

Women were washing at the reservoirs and spreading the garments out

upon the grass and cobble-stones to dry, and little children were

amusing themselves with the same simple games that absorb the attention

of childhood in America.

Before reaching the site of the old city we passed a cross-roads where

a troop of young Corinthians was rushing out of an unpainted adobe

schoolhouse. Nearly all of them were clothed in tunics made of blue

and white checked gingham, the favorite pattern for aprons among New

England housewives. It was the noonday recess, and, notwithstanding

their traditional eagerness for intellectual culture, it is evident

that the schoolboys of Greece feel more amiable when coming away from

the schoolhouse than when they are following their noses in the other

direction. They were playing pranks upon one another, and we stopped

the carriage to see the result of an amateur wrestling match. In the

adjoining lot was a boy about twelve years old, clad in a similar

tunic, herding a drove of pigs. He looked as if he felt his humiliating

situation, and we silently extended our sympathy to him. I felt like

reminding the youngster, for his encouragement and consolation, that

one of the noblest and the greatest of the popes was a pig-driver when

he was a boy, and that that also was the occupation of Pizarro, the

_conquistador_ of Peru, before he entered the Spanish army.

Where this schoolhouse stands was once a suburb of Corinth, known as

Kraneion, which, about 2,300 years ago, was the abode of an old crank

named Diogenes; perhaps not the first, and I am certain not the last,

of the cynics. He was born and brought up in the town of Sinope, where

his father was a money-changer, and the old man, being deficient in

the moral perception and the cunning of some of the modern Greeks,

was detected in the adulteration of coin. He died in prison, and the

disgrace seems to have soured the life of his son, who wandered about

telling people what fools they were to waste their time in enjoyment;

and, to practice what he preached, he discarded all earthly possessions

except a cloak, a wallet in which he carried bread, and a wooden bowl.

He threw the last away some time after, when he saw a boy drinking out

of the hollow of his hand--at least that is the story as I remember it

from my college days, when for a time I knew Diogenes and other famous

Greeks quite intimately.

When Diogenes finally reached Corinth he found that prosperous and

luxurious city a fine field for a cynic to work in, and took lodgings

and office-room in a large jar that was made to hold wine but had been

thrown away as leaky and useless. He used to make fun of the rich and

vain Corinthians, and although he ate nothing but scraps that the cooks

threw at him, he lived to a very old age, and became so famous that

Alexander the Great came to visit him. After a memorable interview,

when the emperor arose to take his departure, with a gracious impulse

he told the old cynic that he would grant him any favor that he desired

to ask. Diogenes looked up with a twinkle in his eye, and requested him

to get out of his light.

Diogenes died from the bite of a dog, and his last request to the

neighbors was that they throw his body into the alley for the dogs

to eat; but they refused to do so, and gave him a noble funeral and

erected a monument in his honor, upon which was carved the figure of a

dog--the symbol of his life.

A little village of fifty or sixty houses, with a store or two, a

post-office and a café, occupies the site of the old city. Part of

the lands about have been purchased by the American Archeological

Institute. Its representatives from the American School of Classical

Studies at Athens have been engaged for several years in making

excavations, and have laid bare a considerable portion of old Corinth,

including the forum, the market-place, the temple of justice, three

fountains, baths hewn in the solid rock, and several dwellings and

buildings that were occupied for business purposes. The work is

being extended gradually as fast as the limited funds of the society

will allow, and the disclosures are of great classical interest and

importance to historians and students. It will be continued until all

the important ruins are disclosed. Near by, upon a convenient roadway,

a warehouse has been erected to preserve the statues, the inscriptions

and other small articles of interest that are found in the excavations.

[Illustration: RUINS OF ANCIENT CORINTH, GREECE

Excavated by the American School at Athens]

Unfortunately for us, the laws of Greece prohibit the exportation of

these relics. The government is very strict about such matters. No

excavations can be made without a permit from the authorities, who

designate an inspector to supervise them, and he keeps a careful watch

upon all that is done. Everything must go to the museum at Athens

unless the owner of the property is willing to erect a building for the

public exhibition of whatever he may find. In this way some of the old

cities and the little towns of Greece have secured local museums which

possess a certain advantage in enabling students to study archeology

upon the ground, but this scarcely offsets many disadvantages, for most

of them are difficult of access. The most important articles discovered

at Corinth have been sent by the American school to the National Museum

at Athens.

At a shop in the village a few fragments of indifferent value from

the excavations are for sale, and they are no doubt genuine. Bogus

antiquities are manufactured in large quantities, but most of them

are more expensive than the genuine. Although the Romans carried away

from Greece the choicest works of art to embellish their palaces and

temples, and vandals have been following their example ever since, the

earth is still full of marble, pottery and bronzes, which are being

uncovered daily. But most of the work is done by foreigners. The Greek

government is so poor that it can afford to do but little, and the

citizens have other uses for their money.

Near the excavations, in front of a low adobe hut, sat an aged man in

the native costume, smoking his pipe and rocking the cradle of a child.

He might have posed for a portrait of Diogenes.

In the center of the village is an enormous plane-tree, which shades

a triangular market-place. Several men were sipping coffee at little

tables and babbling children were playing around them who evidently

did not realize the historical sanctity of their surroundings.

Old Corinth has as much interest for religious people as for

archeologists and historians, for it is closely associated with the

missionary work of St. Paul. In the year 51, in company with Luke the

Evangelist, he visited Macedonia--where Miss Stone was captured by

brigands. At Philippi he was scourged, imprisoned and put into the

stocks. There was an earthquake while he was in prison and he converted

the jailer. Having frightened the officials by telling them that he

was a Roman, they permitted him to depart, and he sailed to Athens,

where he preached an eloquent sermon from Mars Hill. Then he came to

Corinth, lodged at the house of Gaius, and found Aquila and Priscilla,

and there Silas and Timotheus joined him. He lived at Corinth a year

and a half, and there wrote his first epistle to the Thessalonians,

which he sent by the hand of Timotheus. He was then brought before

Gallio, the proconsul, a brother of Seneca, the great philosopher, who

was prime minister for the Emperor Nero, at Rome, at that time. After

this he “tarried there yet a good while” before returning to Syria and

Jerusalem. Six years later he visited Corinth again, “and there abode

three months” at the house of Gaius, where he wrote his epistles to the

Romans and Galatians, after which he returned again to Jerusalem and

then made his fatal journey to Rome.

Timotheus was left in charge of the church at Corinth, and when

Paul sent him there he said: “Let no man despise him.” It would

be interesting to know the places in Corinth where Paul lived and

preached, and perhaps American shovels may yet discover some evidences

of his life there, although beyond his own testimony we know nothing

about it. The lintel of the Jewish synagogue has been found already by

the American excavations.

XVI MODERN ATHENS

Modern Athens is a city of marble. Many of the dwellings and business

houses and nearly all the public edifices are of that material, and

even the sidewalks on some of the streets are paved with it. Upon the

bosom of Mount Pentelikos are two great gashes which can be seen for

many miles. One of them is the quarry from which was hewn the marble

for the Parthenon, the Temple of Jupiter, the Temple of Theseus and

other famous structures of ancient Athens. The other wound was made in

modern times, and shows the source of the material of which the present

city of Athens was built. The authorities have protected the old quarry

for historical and archeological reasons, and nothing has been taken

from it for several centuries. The other quarry is just as good. The

stone is easily cut and removed, and, although the grain is not so fine

as the Parian marble from the quarries in southern Greece, it is equal

to that from the famous Carrara quarries of Italy, and costs much less.

I was wondering why some enterprising American did not build a railway

to the quarry from Piræus, the seaport of Athens, so as to export the

marble, for none is exported now. It need be only about eighteen miles

long, not counting the curves necessary to make the grade, and it could

be run on the gravity principle.

[Illustration: MODERN ATHENS Royal Palace]

The use of marble and white stucco gives modern Athens an appearance of

neatness and beauty which there is no soot to deface. The dust is

very bad, however, when the wind blows. The streets are unpaved and the

soil is a clay that moistens into mud or dries into dust very readily,

and a waiter always stands at the door of the hotel with a feather

duster to brush off your boots. One of the streets is named in honor

of Æolus, the god of the winds, but he does not confine his attentions

to that thoroughfare. In the old part of Athens is a well-preserved

octagonal structure of marble called the Tower of the Winds, and one

might suppose that it was the place where they originated, but the

name seems to have been given merely because it was surmounted by a

weather-vane. The tower was built about a hundred years before Christ

by Andronicus of Syria, so an inscription tells us, as a compliment to

the city of Athens, and was adorned with a sun-dial and a clock that

was run by water-power in some ingenious manner; but the exact plan of

its operation is not understood by modern mortals. An aqueduct supplied

a cistern and the cistern fed machinery too complicated for modern

horologists to comprehend.

The streets leading east from the Tower of the Winds enter a depression

in the side of a hill, inclosed by a wall which was formerly the site

of a school called the Diogeneion, supposed to have been founded by

Diogenes, the famous cynic in the third century before Christ.

The palace of the king is an ugly modern structure, of which a

nation with the taste of the Greeks ought to be ashamed. It looks

like a factory, but the other public buildings are so imposing and

appropriate, particularly a group of three--the university, the Academy

of Sciences and the library--that they more than offset the atrocity

in which the king resides. I doubt if there is a more beautiful

combination of buildings in all the world. The academy, designed

by a Vienna architect, is asserted to be the purest example of the

classic school that has arisen in modern times. The surroundings are

appropriate, and the entire street, called University Street, is worthy

of the artistic traditions of the Athenians, as well as the spirit of

modern enterprise.

A pretty park adjoins the palace grounds in the center of the city,

and several of the residence streets are lined with pepper-trees,

but there is no other shade in Athens--except the awnings stretched

across the sidewalks in the business section to shelter show-windows

and politicians who sit at little tables in front of the cafés. The

gleam of the white marble is painful to the eyes. The architecture

of most of the houses in the new quarter of the town is pure Greek;

simple, dignified and stately; a striking contrast to the picturesque

squalor and dilapidation of Constantinople and the ornate embellishment

of the Italian cities. Some critics complain that the architecture

of Athens is monotonous, but it is the monotony of pure and simple

taste, and none can deny the beauty of the residences. Most of them

are constructed upon modern plans, especially the interiors, to meet

the demand for conveniences, and I am sure that the private buildings

of Athens to-day are more comfortable and beautiful than in the days

of Pericles and Phidias. The mountain Pentelikos can furnish all the

marble that is necessary to meet the demands of the builders for

twenty-five more centuries.

In the old part of the city the streets are narrow, dirty, and the

odors rise to heaven. The modern Greek peasant is not a tidy person,

nor is his wife, and the street that passes his dwelling, the house in

which he lives and all his surroundings are repulsive to the eye, the

nostrils and the sense of propriety.

[Illustration: MODERN ATHENIANS]

There are three theaters in Athens, one of them a stately marble

building of classic design, at which original plays in Greek are

produced to encourage native literary genius. An opera company comes

over from Italy for two or three weeks every winter, but otherwise

there is very little music in Athens. Nor is there any modern art. The

museum is not attractive to ordinary visitors, but it is a fountain of

joy and never-ending bliss to archeologists, being filled with broken

statuary and pottery, old bronzes and tablets bearing inscriptions

that are half-effaced, leaving just enough to excite curiosity and

controversy among students.

The classic spirit still prevails in Greece. It even pervades the

common council of Athens, or whoever has the duty of naming the

streets, for they are nearly all called in honor of the ancient

gods, philosophers and poets of the golden age. The Boulevard of the

University and the Boulevard of the Academy are the broadest and

the finest avenues in the residence portion of the city, while the

principal business street is named in honor of Mercury. Other streets

are called after Solon, Æsculapius, Hippocrates, Aristotle, Thucydides,

Pericles, Sophocles, Menander, Venus, Pan, Hebe, Apollo, Jupiter,

Theseus, Philip, Constantine and most of the holy apostles. One of the

principal hotels is the Minerva, and it is the fashion to christen

shops in honor of the great men of the past. Classic names are also

usual in baptizing children. You frequently hear of Hermes, Alcibiades

and Homer, and the Athens city directory reads like the muster-roll of

the army of Agamemnon, which you will find in the early part of Homer.

Achilles, Ajax, Menelaus, Miltiades, Leonidas, Themistocles, and other

names equally familiar to students of Greek, are in daily use among the

people.

Greece is a true democracy. No other country in Europe, not even

Norway, is so subject to the will of the people, and the democratic

spirit is often shown in ways that are disagreeable. The feeling of

equality is general, and there is an undisguised jealousy against

one man rising above another. That is one of the great obstacles to

progress--a sort of dead-line which no man can cross without being made

the target of every selfish and dissatisfied citizen who construes the

superiority of his neighbor as a personal grievance and an offense

against the individual and the state. The king is a foreigner. Were

he not a foreigner he might not be king. Those who know the Greek

character best declare that it would be difficult, if not impossible,

for the Greeks to permit one of their own citizens to rule over them.

The king is democratic enough to suit their tastes. He mingles freely

with the people, and while he maintains beyond criticism the dignity

that becomes his position, he is nevertheless simple in his habits,

unostentatious in his exercise of power and loves nothing so well as

to be considered one of the Greeks. There have been no scandals or

intrigues at his court. The scepter has not been wielded to the injury

of any one. He treats everybody alike and perhaps goes a little too

far that way, because the exercise of more severe discipline might do

something to suppress crime. The king’s example is followed by his

sons, his ministers and the attachés of the court, and therefore is

imitated by the people. The children have inherited the spirit. The

common schools of Athens are attended by boys and girls of all grades

of society, the children of laborers sitting beside those of the

ministers of state, reading from the same books and engaging in the

same games.

Travelers in the country sometimes complain that the democratic spirit

is offensive; that the “common people” sometimes are too aggressive and

independent. I heard an English gentleman relate his experience with

the villagers of the interior, which was evidence that they considered

themselves quite as good as he, and he declared that such things

could never have occurred in England, or in the United States, for

that matter. A gentleman who has lived many years in Greece explained

that the peasants did not intend to be impertinent, but were simply

exercising what they believed to be their privileges, and demonstrating

that a practical democracy was in working order. There is no lack of

discipline among the servant class, but they assert their rights like

the servant-girls of New England.

Athenian society is divided into sets, as it is everywhere; first, the

court set, made up of the higher officials, members of the diplomatic

corps, officers of the army and navy, rich residents both foreign and

native who entertain extensively, and others who are honored with a

personal acquaintance with the royal family. This set is more or less

exclusive, and includes only a small fraction of those who are entitled

to invitations to court functions. The king’s balls and receptions

are very much like those at the White House in Washington, and people

with shabby clothes and muddy boots are often present, because their

political influence, if not their social position entitles them to

invitations. There are no orders of nobility in Greece. There is only

one order of knighthood--the Order of the Savior, which is conferred by

the king for distinguished services of any character. About one-half

of the honors go to the army and navy; the next in number are to those

who have distinguished themselves in the service of the state, either

as executives, legislators or members of the diplomatic corps, and

after them come the scientists, who esteem the ribbon very highly.

Some of the descendants of the ancient nobility try to retain their

titles, but are laughed at. Men whose ancestors played a conspicuous

part in patriotic movements are much more admired and envied, but

even they have to give way to learning, for scholars stand higher in

Greece to-day than any other class of the community, and learning is

considered of more value than great riches.

The education of women is gradually reaching a level with that of men.

There are still certain social restraints, due to tradition and the

influence of the neighboring countries of Europe, and the old-fashioned

method of contracting marriages between families still prevails;

but, speaking generally, the women of Greece are to-day quite as

independent, quite as influential and quite as well educated as any on

the continent, south of Sweden, and it is gratifying to know that the

queen herself has been one of the most active and influential agents in

bringing about the emancipation of her sex.

Athens has more than her share of newspapers, dailies, weeklies

and those of occasional publication, which are not intended for

news purposes, but to express the opinions of the different owners

or editors upon public affairs. Even these are not sufficient,

however, and the politicians and the editors visit the cafés every

evening, and often in the afternoon, in order to proclaim their

views to whomsoever it may concern. Coffee-houses have taken the

place of the ancient forums, and one of the largest in Athens is

called “Public Opinion Coffee-house.” Instead of referring to a man

as a demagogue or a pot-house politician, over here they call him a

coffee-house politician, and nowhere in the country is there such

an abundance of oratorical talent and public sentiment as in these

institutions. They are the resort of would-be leaders who cannot

afford to maintain newspapers and are reduced to the necessity of

communicating their thoughts by word of mouth. The newspapers contain

very little news--a few brief telegrams from London, Paris, Berlin,

Vienna and Constantinople, relating to the most important events of

the day; a report of the proceedings of parliament; a review of the

decisions of the courts; a few paragraphs of local news; personal

items concerning the royal family and prominent citizens; half a

column of market quotations, an installment of a continued story, and

a few miscellaneous items clipped from other European newspapers. The

remainder of the sheet is filled with editorials and communications

upon political topics, which are discussed with the greatest freedom,

for in Greece the liberty of the press is not abridged. Both editors

and correspondents seem to feel as much at liberty as in the United

States to criticise or condemn the policy of the government, the

extravagance of the officials, the inefficiency of the army, the

corruption of parliament, and even the personal habits of public men.

Visitors to Greece are always amazed at the criminal statistics,

particularly at the number of murders, and can scarcely believe them

to be accurate, because the number seems to be so much in excess of

that of any other country in Europe. Ordinary crimes--dishonesty and

the vices that prevail in other countries--are not general, but murders

occur almost daily, and the frequent attempts at murder and the number

of mysterious deaths are shocking in the stage of civilization to

which Greece has attained. In the province in which Athens is located

homicides average annually almost one to 1,000 of population. It is not

without significance that the province of Attica should be the scene

of many homicides, for it is the center of learning and education, the

seat of the government and the headquarters of the national police.

The causes lie mostly in politics. The government has forbidden the

carrying of concealed weapons, but the law is not enforced. A pouch or

sheath for a knife and a revolver is a part of the national costume,

and both are worn openly. You see them upon almost every Greek who

wears the old-fashioned garments of his race, and those who have

adopted the modern dress have hip pockets.

When two Greeks quarrel the first act is to draw their knives, and

unless they are separated instantly there is either a homicide or a

case for the hospital, and the hospitals of Athens, which are extensive

and up-to-date, are abundantly supplied with patients, especially

during periods of political excitement. If a man is killed in a

controversy it usually begins a feud which does not end until several

graves are filled, because the unwritten law requires a life for a

life, and the Greeks adhere to the vendetta as do the Corsicans and the

people of Sicily.

In the provinces of Arcadia, which is a synonym of peace and happiness,

and in Laconia, the southernmost section of the Grecian peninsula,

the vendetta is as strictly observed as it ever was in Corsica. One

murder is usually followed by half a dozen, and sometimes they continue

until families are extinct. If there are no sons to take revenge, the

duty passes to the nearest relative, and the code is understood by

children. Singularly enough the obligation to kill ceases when the

offending person leaves the province. The code prohibits attacks upon

enemies when they remove to another part of the country. The cause

of this extraordinary condition can be traced to the days of Turkish

domination, when murder and other crimes committed upon Christians were

allowed to remain unpunished. The Turkish officials took no notice of

injuries suffered by unbelievers and never attempted to punish the

perpetrators.

The indifference of the government down to the present day has

encouraged murder. Capital punishment is seldom inflicted, and the

verdict of a court is generally acquittal. Those who happen to be

convicted are soon pardoned through political influence.

Politics is the influential factor in this problem. When a man is

arrested for murder, his friends and family naturally use every effort

to secure his acquittal, and appeal to their representatives in the

chamber of deputies and other officials of the government who are

supposed to have a “pull” with the courts, and skill in convincing

juries. If the defendants are convicted and sent to prison their

confinement must be made as short and as easy as possible. Hence

members of the Greek parliament are kept quite as busy looking after

constituents who have committed homicides as the members of our

Congress are in getting an increase of pensions for old soldiers.

Persons who have served a term for murder bear no stigma. On the

contrary, as every man in Greece is likely to suffer a similar

experience sooner or later, the contrary is the case. The prisons are

generally dirty, uncomfortable and without ventilation or sanitary

appliances, but they are no worse in these respects than the homes

from which the prisoners come. No labor is required, and there is very

little discipline. Except in a few cases, where solitary confinement is

the penalty, the prisoners congregate in one room during the daytime,

and the social enjoyment is almost as great as if they were in their

village cafés instead. Friends are allowed to bring them delicacies

and bedding and to see them frequently. Thus a lazy man is sometimes

more comfortable and happy in prison than out, for in the latter case

he would be compelled to support himself. As long as he is in prison

for such a crime as homicide, public opinion requires his friends

and family to support him. Hence he can loaf, gossip, argue, smoke

cigarettes and drink coffee all day long, which is the Greek ideal of

happiness. If the laws could be amended so as to require the prisoners

to work and cut off their enjoyments entirely, no doubt it would go far

to diminish crime.

Somebody has said that what Greece wants is not men of culture, but

men of agriculture, and that is probably true. There are plenty of men

to till the limited area between the mountains and the rocky plateaus

if they would devote themselves to it, but it is the ambition of

every Greek youth to obtain a classical education and to engage in

one of the learned professions. No country in the world has so few

children in the primary schools in proportion to the young men and

women in the academies and universities. One class of the population

is under-educated and the other over-educated. Intellectual culture

therefore is not properly distributed. A compulsory education law

is not enforced because of the interference of the politicians, and

thousands of children of school age in the country districts who should

attend school are assisting their parents on the farms and in the homes

and adding a little to the family income.

There has been no census lately, but estimates based upon the young

men who come into the army place the illiterates at thirty per cent of

the population in the country and fifteen per cent in the towns. Those

who go to school, however, show remarkable eagerness for learning, and

when a boy has passed through the secondary schools nothing will stop

him from going to the university, where education is free. Then it is

necessary for him to select a professional career, because the labor of

the farm is too arduous and the society of the peasants is uncongenial.

The students in the University of Athens to-day number more than three

thousand, and the larger part of them come from the peasant class. As

a consequence, Greece is oversupplied with lawyers, doctors and other

professional young men, who are compelled to get a living the best way

they can, because there is no parental allowance to support them. Many

of them go in for politics and seek offices under the government. Many

go into the army, and more are engaged in humble clerical employment

and are living upon crusts until something turns up. There are said to

be more university graduates in Athens in proportion to the population

than in any other city in the world, and the number of unemployed is

very large. A few of them drift off into Turkey and other countries of

the Orient, where the opportunities are greater, but so many remain and

make a business of politics that they are the curse of Greece.

The traveler who comes to Greece from Italy or from Turkey or the

Oriental countries is always gratified at the absence of beggars. You

may live there for years and never see one, except a few cripples,

blind and decrepit old crones, who sit at the doors of the churches and

hold out their hands, pleading pitifully for alms. There are excellent

hospitals and asylums for all the ills and woes that humankind suffer,

and, although there are many poor and afflicted people and much misery

and degradation in Greece, the pride and independence of the people

will not permit them to beg, and the benevolent spirit of those who are

more prosperous makes good provision for them. Philanthropy is a Greek

word. In Greece children never run after strangers in the street and

beg for pennies as they do in other countries of southern Europe. If a

stranger stops on the sidewalk in Italy he is immediately surrounded

by a crowd of urchins, ragged, dirty and impudent, who follow him for

blocks with importunities. In Turkey and Egypt it is even worse. In

Greece travelers are never troubled in that way.

A long time ago a hermit made his home upon the top of the columns of

the temple of Jupiter at Athens, and lived there, exposed to the sun

and the wind and the storms, until compelled to come down. He had an

arrangement with a woman in the neighborhood to provide him with food,

and she used to appear every morning with a basket of supplies, which

he was accustomed to haul up to his eyrie with a clothes-line.

In the Odeum of Herodes Atticus, one of the loftiest and most

conspicuous of the ruins at the base of the Acropolis, which was

formerly a theater accommodating six thousand spectators, erected by

an Athenian millionaire in memory of his wife, Appia Annia Regilla,

a noble Roman lady, there is an enormous earthen wine-jar called a

_pithos_. For several years a half-witted man named Demetrius lived in

it, just as Diogenes lived in his jar. A kind woman in the neighborhood

furnished him food whenever he called for it, and in stormy weather he

covered the mouth of his curious dwelling with a curtain of canvas,

which gave him adequate shelter.

The parliament of Greece occupies a conspicuous building in the

center of the city of Athens, which is the scene of frequent exciting

episodes and heated debates. After observing the behavior of the

German, Austrian, Hungarian, French, Italian and Greek chambers of

deputies, I have deliberately reached the conclusion that the House

of Representatives at Washington is the most orderly, dignified and

statesmanlike legislative body elected by popular suffrage--not

excepting the House of Commons. This is a recent opinion, and is

contrary to what I have often written. From the reporter’s gallery of

the House of Representatives I have witnessed some very stormy scenes

during the last quarter of a century, but they have been incidental.

Confusion and boisterous behavior in the European parliaments are

chronic. The Greeks are so fond of debate that they ought to have

several legislative chambers instead of one, in order to give the

eloquent members of that body a chance to express their views; but,

failing to get a hearing in the house, they go to the nearest café

immediately after adjournment, where they are able to discourse to

their heart’s content without interruption.

Politics is the curse of Greece. The country is so small, its financial

and other interests are so limited, and its influence in the affairs

of nations so insignificant, that one would suppose the people would

devote themselves to the development of their material resources and

the encouragement of their industries instead of wasting their time

in useless discussions and quarrels. But I have always noticed that

the smaller the country the hotter the political contests. In Servia,

Bulgaria, and certain American republics, where the population is less

than in Greece, political agitation is even more bitter and a larger

number of people give their exclusive time to it.

I have been trying to discover the political issues in Greece, but

have given up in despair. They seem to be numerous, but are not well

defined. The local complications are too intricate to be untangled by

a stranger, and when you bore through into the pith of the thing you

find that the ambition to hold office is the ruling motive, as it is

almost everywhere else. There are few offices in Greece and many men

who desire to fill them. Hence the outs are opposed to the ins and

attempt to justify their demands for authority by proclaiming political

principles and promising administrative reforms.

King George is a wise, liberal and tactful ruler. He has a turbulent

population to deal with, but is discreet, judicious, generous, and

never mixes in political affairs. He always selects his ministers from

the party which has a majority in the parliament and is usually able

to handle them without difficulty. He holds the confidence of the

parliament and the people. Everybody trusts him as a safe man. The only

criticism I heard in Greece was that he is too merciful with violators

of the law, and perhaps it would be to the advantage of the country

if the criminal courts were more severe in their penalties and the

pardoning power were not so freely exercised.

The political riots in Athens in the spring of 1902 were due to an

unusual cause. Greek scholars are very jealous of the language and

are trying to restore ancient Greek to common use. Modern Greek is

not taught at the university, and whether it shall be taught in the

public schools is a political issue. The advocates of a return to the

classic tongue insist that the only way to restore it is to teach it

to the children in the primary schools. Their opponents argue that if

the children are taught nothing but ancient Greek they can not read

modern newspapers, magazines or books. Modern Greek is a corruption

of the ancient language, which has become debased by common usage,

as the modern Italian is a corruption of the ancient Latin. While

it is possible for the native of one province to understand another

in conversation, just as a man from New England can understand the

lingo of the Arizona miner, very few of the common people are able to

read the pure classic. Some of the literary men of the country and

many politicians are so democratic in their notions that they would

use nothing but the vulgar, modern Athenian dialect, and one man in

particular has made himself conspicuous in support of that proposition.

He has been bitterly denounced, however, by the university faculties

and the serious scholars of the country, and is held up to students as

an enemy of their language and their race. So he resides in England.

This controversy is hot and cold according as provocation occurs, and

volumes have been written upon one side and the other. During the

recent war with Turkey, Queen Olga, who is a noble woman, famous for

her good works, and a niece of the late Czar of Russia, found that the

sick and wounded soldiers in the hospitals she visited were not able to

read the Bibles she gave them, which were printed only in the classic

Greek. She was greatly grieved at this, and arranged with two eminent

members of the theological faculty to translate the gospels into the

modern Greek. They were hastily printed and circulated in large numbers

in the army at the queen’s expense. She paid the translators handsomely

for their work and bore all the cost of the enterprise from her private

purse. Before the war with Turkey had ended every soldier in the Greek

army had one of Queen Olga’s Testaments in his knapsack.

The excitement was so great in those days that the matter was

overlooked and nothing was said about it until last spring, when

somehow or other the students of the university provoked an agitation

and held a series of meetings at which inflammatory speeches were made

against the desecration of the Holy Scriptures and the words of the

Redeemer by translating them into modern Greek. As is often the case,

the police authorities used unwise measures to suppress the agitation,

which only made it worse, and it culminated in a mass-meeting called

at the ruins of the Temple of Jupiter, near the base of the Acropolis

and near the edge of the park which surrounds the palace. This is the

usual place for public demonstrations. Political meetings of all

kinds are held at the Olympieion, which Aristotle describes as a “work

of despotic grandeur.” The ruins are the favorite place of promenade

on summer evenings, and demagogues, fanatics and cranks take the

opportunity to declaim their views there as they do at Hyde Park in

London.

There were originally more than one hundred columns of Pentelic marble,

fifty-six feet high and five and a half feet in diameter, of the second

largest Greek temple known, being three hundred and fifty-three feet

in length and one hundred and thirty-four feet in width, dimensions

exceeded only by those of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus. Only sixteen

of the columns remain. Several of them are said to have been taken to

Rome by the emperors; more have been broken up for building-material,

and at least sixteen are now supporting the domes of mosques in

Constantinople.

The meeting called to discuss the queen’s translations of the gospels

was a very large one, many people attending purely out of curiosity.

It was managed by the students of the university, who, to emphasize

their objections, secured several copies of the book and burned them

over a slow fire in a dramatic manner. The police attempted to disperse

the crowd; stones were thrown, shots were fired, and an infuriated

populace showed its resentment against the authorities by driving the

policemen off the ground and using some of them very roughly. A general

alarm was given, soldiers were called out and for two days it was a

question whether the military or the mob would rule the city. The

number of killed and wounded was quite large. At least seven students

died in the streets or were fatally wounded, and their funerals were

made occasions for political demonstrations. The result has been to

strengthen the support of the classic language and to make the good

queen very unpopular. Before this incident she was beloved and admired

by everybody, and since no one except the demagogues has ever accused

her of more than indiscretion. She was evidently unaware of the

philological controversy, and the professors who made her translation

should have advised her of it. Her translation, however, was never

offered to the public; no copy was ever sold, and it was used simply

for the purpose intended. Her Majesty’s critics, however, made the most

of the fact that she is a foreigner and a Russian.

Queen Olga’s nobility of character, her pure life, her charitable works

and her spotless dignity as a queen, wife and mother will outlive the

criticisms upon her indiscretion, which would be soon forgotten if

the demagogues would drop the subject. She is a member of the Greek

Church, sincere and earnest in the performance of her religious duties,

and a strong believer in the miraculous power of an image of the Holy

Virgin which attracts many pilgrims to a little town in the southern

part of Greece. She is actively interested in charitable work also

and rarely fails to visit some hospital or asylum or other benevolent

institution. She walks upon the streets like the wife of any ordinary

citizen, is unassuming in her manners and democratic in her habits,

and if a stranger should meet her upon an errand of mercy or when she

is taking her constitutional he would never suspect her to be a queen.

The court of Greece is said to be the purest in all Europe, for Queen

Olga is even more critical than Queen Victoria used to be concerning

the character and reputation of those who are presented to her. There

are no adventurers, either men or women, about the palace at Athens.

She has brought up her boys under her own eye and according to her own

religion, and everybody agrees that they are young men of exemplary

character and habits, very different from the ordinary prince.

The king is a Protestant. He is a son of old King Christian of Denmark,

“the father-in-law of Europe;” a brother of Queen Alexandra of England,

and of Dagmar, the empress mother of Russia. When he accepted the

throne of Greece he agreed that his children should be brought up in

the religion of the country, but declined to change his own faith.

He does not try to proselyte the Greeks, however, but his Lutheran

chaplain holds services on Sunday very quietly in a little chapel

connected with the palace. Protestants connected with the court have an

opportunity to attend, but outsiders are never admitted.

The wife of the crown prince and the future queen of Greece, is the

Princess Sophia, a sister of the Kaiser of Germany. When the latter

consented to her marriage it was with the understanding that she

should not be required to renounce Protestantism, although it was

stipulated that her children were to be educated in the Greek faith.

Two years ago, however, she voluntarily left the Lutheran Church and

was baptized in the Greek communion. Her august brother was furious

and did not hesitate to censure his sister openly for renouncing the

religion of her fathers. Nor has he forgiven her. She has not been in

Germany since, and it is the general understanding that she has not

been invited. No Protestant missionary work is now done in Greece,

although there are several Protestant churches in different parts of

the country, and two in Athens.

Everyone who knows the facts testifies that the priests of the Greek

Church are useful, morally and spiritually, but there are altogether

too many of them. According to the census of 1889 there were over

eight thousand priests for a population of 2,187,208, and the number

has rapidly increased since that date, so that the ratio is even

larger. There are probably ten thousand priests and monks in Greece

to-day, while the membership of the Greek church is 2,138,609. A slight

calculation will show you that this is an average of about one priest

to every two hundred souls, so that the clerical profession, like all

others, is suffering from an oversupply, and the people are required

to support it. There are one hundred and seventy monasteries with over

nineteen hundred monks, and nine nunneries with two hundred and twenty

nuns. The head of the church is called the Metropolitan, who is elected

by the Holy Synod, composed of twenty-one archbishops and twenty-nine

bishops; and all these have to be supported by the taxpayers. Nominally

the church is under the care of the Patriarch of Constantinople,

but while his jurisdiction is never questioned in theory, he does

not attempt to exercise more than formal ecclesiastical authority.

The compensation of the clergy is insignificant. The Metropolitan

receives only $120 a month and the bishops only $50. In Athens the most

prominent of the parish clergy do not receive more than $500 a year,

while country parsons are obliged to subsist upon a mere pittance, many

of them being paid only in the produce of the farms of their parishes.

The monks belong to orders which own property, and are, therefore,

much better off. For these reasons the regular clergy in the country

are compelled to earn a living like their parishioners.

The priests in the Greek Church are allowed to marry. Most of them

have large families, and according to the customs of the country it

is the rule for the sons to follow in the profession of their father.

As they cannot marry a second wife under the canon law, they imitate

Dr. Primrose, and take good care of their first. It is the uniform

testimony of people familiar with the facts that the country parsons

of Greece as a rule are honorable, sincere and well-meaning men,

living lives of self-sacrifice and comforting those who are worse off

than themselves. The Greek priests wear their hair and beards long in

imitation of the Saviour. The ecclesiastical dress is a frock similar

to that of the Roman Catholic priests, which reaches to the heels,

and a black chimney-pot hat without a brim. Sometimes a veil is worn,

falling over the shoulders. They are generally men of fine appearance

and excellent manners. There are even more chapels than priests,

because every village must have a church or a chapel, and sometimes

villages are deserted. The inhabitants, for some reason or another,

remove to another location, but the chapel must stand. The peasants

naturally have a deep religious sentiment, mingled with superstition,

and, as in the days of St. Paul, worship unknown gods. They are strong

believers in the miraculous also, and consequently there are several

miracle-working images of the Holy Virgin and certain saints.

The patriotism of the Greeks is proverbial, and evidences of the

munificence of the prosperous children of this classic country are

on every side. I do not know of any other city or any other land of

similar population which shows so many public buildings and benevolent

institutions founded by private individuals. Most of the fortunes

have been made abroad. Greece is not a money-making country. The

opportunities for gaining wealth are limited. Agriculture is still in a

primitive condition; there is comparatively little manufacturing; the

mining resources are insignificant, and the commerce and mercantile

trade can never amount to much because of the meager population.

Therefore, Greeks who are ambitious for wealth go elsewhere. They are

a migrating race. There are Greek communities in every important city

of the world, and they use the same methods, practice the same economy

and show the same skill in trade as the Jews. It is a proverb that

one Greek is as good as two Jews in a bargain. They often begin in a

small way, peddling fruit, knickknacks and other trifles, but gradually

extend their commercial horizons until many of them become mercantile

princes. You find them in London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna and

especially in Constantinople, where nearly one-third of the population

is Greek, and the richest residents belong to that race. Throughout

Syria, Egypt and along the coast of Africa the larger share of the

mercantile business is in the hands of Greeks. In the Black Sea country

they monopolize the grain trade, and throughout the East, from Italy to

Egypt and as far north as Budapest and Odessa they practically control

commercial affairs.

Greece has no naturalization treaties. Like Russia, the government

never releases its subjects from their obligations--once a Greek,

always a Greek. Any naturalized Greek citizen of the United States who

returns to his native country may be impressed into the army without

ceremony if he did not serve his term before he left the country. The

same rule applies to the Greek residents of England, France and all

other countries. Hence the chief business of the United States minister

at Athens is to help our naturalized Greeks out of trouble.

Many Greeks are found in South America also, and in the Transvaal and

other parts of South Africa. During the Boer War several Greeks had

important contracts for furnishing supplies to the British government

and made more money during the troubles than they did while the country

was at peace. In the Argentine Republic are several important Greek

families. In fact wherever they go they make money, and it is the

ambition of every Greek to return to Athens and live among his own

people. The long streets of fine mansions and other evidences of wealth

and luxury demonstrate that many have been able to do so.

There are many reasons for the working classes as well as the tradesmen

to emigrate. Wages are low, although laborers are scarce, and

particularly mechanics. The earnings of those who remain in the country

have not improved since the war with Turkey, but are lower than before

because wages are paid in a depreciated paper currency worth not more

than sixty per cent of its former value. The wages of ordinary laborers

run from twenty to fifty cents a day, and those of skilled mechanics

from fifty to eighty cents a day. The law which requires military

service of every citizen drives a good many young men from the country,

for it compels them to waste the best years of their life. There is no

reason why Greece should have an army. If she had none she would be

much better off. Her military history is not at all flattering, and

during the late war with Turkey it was clearly demonstrated that the

people had neither military skill nor courage. If the parliament would

abolish the army and navy, leaving just enough soldiers to preserve

the peace, and rest entirely upon the protection of the great Powers

of Europe, it would be a blessing to the people and relieve them from

an enormous burden of taxation. Many thousand able-bodied young men

would be released from a military servitude which not only keeps them

from the fields and factories, but unfits them for labor after their

term of duty has expired. It would also remove from the sons of the

upper classes a temptation which often proves fatal to success in life.

Opportunities are so few in Greece that educated young men must seek

employment under the government or obtain commissions in the army.

Under the present system of politics the former can only look forward

to an uncertain and an unprofitable career, while there is even less

to encourage the ambitious in the army. The number of officers is so

much in excess of the requirements that there is nothing for them to

do but to spend their time in the coffee-houses and in worse forms

of dissipation. The streets of Athens and other cities of Greece are

crowded with men in uniform, and if you will enter any café or stop at

one of the many groups of idlers in public places you may notice that

at least one-third and sometimes more than half of all those present

wear the uniform of officers of high rank. I have been told that there

is an officer for every three privates in the Greek army, and certainly

that proportion exists in Athens, although it may not be so large in

other parts of the country.

Most of the public institutions at Athens were founded and endowed

by the private means of Greeks who have made fortunes abroad. Others

have left large legacies directly to the government. That has occurred

several times in the United States, but not often in other countries.

Several men in their wills have left money to be applied toward

the payment of the Greek national debt. One man, not long ago, who

evidently feared that his money might be stolen, required his executors

to purchase a stated amount of government bonds and burn them in the

presence of a committee. Some years ago a man left two hotels to the

Greek government. They stand on the Place de la Concorde, and yield a

good rental, which goes into the public treasury.

One of the most notable acts of patriotism is told of a Greek barber

in the city of New York, who, dying, left his entire estate to the

University of Athens. He was not an educated man, but was proud of

the classic traditions of his country, and gave more than Carnegie or

Rockefeller to the cause of education. The amount was only $150, the

proceeds of the sale of the equipment of his barber shop, his razors,

and doubtless the bottles of hair-tonic that ornamented its shelves,

but it was all that he had.

Somebody should give something for repairing the streets and roads.

With the exception of the principal thoroughfares, they are very bad,

and often impassable.

The University of Athens was founded about 1835. It is conducted

on the German plan. Many of the professors are graduates of German

universities, and the German language is heard about the building

more frequently than any other except Greek. The institution has a

large amount of property, from which it draws a considerable revenue,

but several of the chairs have been handsomely endowed by private

individuals.

The National Library, which has one of the most beautiful modern

buildings in the world, is the legacy of the Vallianos brothers,

grain-merchants doing business at Odessa and the ports of the Black

Sea. A marble statue of one of them stands in front of the building.

The National Museum was given to the people by George Averof, a

cotton-merchant in Egypt, who also founded a military school and

established a model reformatory for children.

[Illustration: THE MUSEUM AT ATHENS]

The exposition building, called the Zappeion, intended for temporary

exhibitions of art and industry, is the gift of the Zappas brothers,

grain-merchants in Roumania.

The building of the Academy of Sciences, which is the most beautiful

modern structure in Europe, and the Royal Observatory were erected and

endowed by Baron Sina, a Greek banker in Vienna.

The Arsakion, a college for young women, was founded and richly endowed

by Mr. Arsakis, a Greek merchant in Vienna. The Varvakion, a manual

training-school and gymnasium for boys, was founded by Mr. Varvakes,

a raisin merchant. The Polytechnic Institute was the gift of Mr.

Metzorios, a merchant of Epirus. The Aretesian, a surgical institute,

was founded by Dr. Areteas, a poor boy, who became an eminent surgeon

and left 1,000,000 francs for the institution. Dr. Anagnostokes,

another eminent surgeon, founded a hospital for eye and ear diseases.

George and Mathos Rhizares founded a theological seminary. The late

Mr. Syngros, a banker, built an opera-house and gave it to the city;

he also founded a model prison for first offenders, a house for

impoverished women of rank, a home with a factory for light employment

for poor working women, and also a home for the aged of both sexes. The

Royal Theater was erected by a stock company, organized by King George,

who owns three-fourths of the stock, and was intended to encourage

native writers and actors.

Queen Olga built a prison for women. The Crown Princess Sophia built a

hospital for children and reorganized and reëquipped in German style

the military hospital. The ex-Queen Amalia of Bavaria founded a free

dispensary, and Haji Costa, a Greek merchant in Russia, founded the

orphan asylum.

The ancient Stadium, originally built three hundred and thirty years

before Christ by Lycurgus, the famous Athenian statesman, and one of

the noblest, ablest and most practical rulers of Greece, is now being

restored in pure white marble after the old style, by the generosity

of the late George Averof, who founded the National Museum. His motive

was the same as that of Lycurgus, to encourage physical culture among

the Greeks, who are very deficient in that important particular. This

was demonstrated at the Olympian games, which took place here in 1896.

Every event with one exception was captured by strangers. The one

exception was the long distance race, twenty-five miles, from the mound

at Marathon to the Stadium at Athens, which was won by a young Greek

shepherd named Spiridon Louis, and as a reward, in addition to the

prize, the government gave him a monopoly of the sale of water from the

springs of Marousi, the favorite drinking-water of the Greeks. This

spring is a popular resort on the side of the Pentelikos Mountain,

near Tatoi, the summer residence of the king. There is a large sale of

the water in Athens, and it is brought in fresh from the spring every

morning in sheepskins and in large earthen jars. Louis, the runner, is

doing a good business, and has increased the demand by representing

that its use gave him the strength and speed which won the Marathon

race.

The representatives of American colleges who appeared in the games of

1896 acquitted themselves with distinguished honor and carried off

their share of the prizes. One of the remarkable incidents was the

capture by Robert Garrett of Baltimore, then of Princeton University,

of the prize for discus-throwing, a classic Greek game. Mr. Garrett

had never seen a discus until his arrival in Athens, but outplayed the

Greeks in their own game on their own field.

The new Stadium will be a beautiful structure of marble, six hundred

and seventy feet long and one hundred and nine feet broad, with

sixty rows of seats of pure white marble, rising one upon the other

and accommodating thirty thousand spectators. It is an ideal place

for football and similar athletics, and when finished will surpass

every other field for sports in ancient or modern times. The cost

is comparatively small in Greece, because the extensive quarries of

Pentelikos yield their marble treasures for only the cost of cutting

and transportation, and no doubt Mr. Averof’s munificence will inspire

an ambition among his countrymen to develop their physical as well as

their intellectual qualities.

A shrine of history in which all lovers of liberty feel an interest is

the little town of Mesolongion, in the western part of the kingdom,

where, during the revolution against the Turks in 1823, Marco Bozzaris

gained immortality. He is buried under an insignificant monument near a

military hospital, and near by is a tomb containing the heart of Lord

Byron, who died there. His body was conveyed to England. A monument

was erected to Byron at Mesolongion in 1881, and a beautiful group in

marble, representing him protecting a beautiful female, symbolizing

Greece, from a ferocious barbarian, signifying Turkey, has recently

been placed in one of the parks of Athens.

The connection of Lord Byron with the emancipation of Greece was more

sentimental than otherwise. It is true that during the war for liberty

he offered his services to the Greek patriots and brought them several

thousand dollars of his own money, which was sadly needed by the

revolutionary leaders. He loaned £4,000 toward the equipment of a Greek

fleet, and assisted the patriots to borrow money in London, where he

did much to awaken sympathy for the gallant struggle they were making

against the Turks. He enlisted a company of adventurers and drilled

them at Mesolongion for several months, but they made endless trouble,

and he was finally compelled to pay them large sums of money and send

them away. It was a motley gang of desperadoes, composed of Englishmen,

Scotsmen, Irishmen, Americans, Swedes, Norwegians, Germans, Swiss,

Belgians, Russians, Poles, Austrians, Hungarians, Danes, Italians,

Frenchmen, Servians, Bulgarians and representatives of every other

race and nation who were attracted to him by popular rumors that he

had large sums of money to expend in the cause of Grecian liberty. But

his plans were impracticable. It was a case of poetic genius and not

military skill; but Byron died a hero. It redeemed his reputation,

however, and there is no doubt that during the few weeks preceding his

death he lived upon a sixpence a day, as his biographers claim, for he

had stripped himself of every farthing and had forfeited all claims

upon his friends in behalf of the Greek cause. His name will always be

cherished by the Greeks.

“The Maid of Athens,” to whom Byron addressed the charming love-song

with which we are all familiar, is said to have been Miss Theresa

Macri, daughter of the English vice-consul, with whom he fell

desperately in love while he was a guest of her father during his

first visit to Greece in 1809. He was just twenty-one years old and

was still unknown to fame, having published only his first volume of

poems. He lived with the family for several months and wanted to marry

the daughter, but her father seems to have been a sensible man and

refused his consent. Byron returned to England, married Miss Milbanke,

separated from her a few months later and left England forever. The

next year he met the Countess Guicciolo at Venice and lived with her,

without the formality of a marriage for seven years, until he went to

Greece, where her father Count Gamba, accompanied him and remained with

him until his death.

Some writers have asserted that ancient Greece had a population of at

least 10,000,000, and certain antiquarians have estimated that the city

of Athens, at the age of Pericles, had a population of 750,000. Now it

has 117,000. But the best authorities believe that neither Athens nor

Greece ever had a greater population than now. It is certainly true

that the number of inhabitants gradually diminished during the Turkish

tyranny until, at the outbreak of the revolution in 1821, there were

only 766,747 people in Greece. After the revolution the population

began to increase gradually until in 1890 it had passed two millions,

more than three times the number when the present government was

formed, notwithstanding the large emigration. The natural increase is

about 2.4 per cent per year, very nearly the same as that of the United

States. Seventy-eight per cent of the population live in the country

and twenty-two per cent in the towns. A good many of the so-called

towns are small villages of farmers. It is the custom in Greece for

the people to live in communities and go to their farms every morning.

This practice was necessary for mutual protection in the days of the

Turks. You see few detached farmhouses, and few country-seats, although

the number is rapidly increasing, now that brigandage is extinct. As a

rule, however, even now, travelers find the farmhouses in clusters, and

the farmers going out to their work every morning with a lunch of bread

and olives in their pockets.

Nearly all the land that is capable of raising crops is under

cultivation, but the methods are very primitive, and it does not

produce anything like the crops that ought to come from such soil. The

government has recently instituted a general movement for agricultural

education, and has established schools in all the provinces, at which

the science of farming is taught--only the rudiments at present,

because the Greeks are very conservative, and the wise men who are

at the head of this movement know better than to go too rapidly. The

farms average about ten acres in extent, the great majority of them

being less than two. They are cultivated entirely by hand, and with

home-made implements. The soil is plowed with a crooked stick, similar

to that used by the Egyptians in the days of Moses, and the grain is

thrashed with the hoofs of animals trampling upon it. Near by every

community can be seen a circular platform paved with stone, often with

a post in the center. When the harvest comes the grain will be spread

upon the surface, and three or four animals will be hitched to the post

and driven round and round until they have trampled the kernels out of

the husks. Greece does not grow enough food for her own consumption.

At least sixty per cent of the meat, vegetables and grain consumed

annually are imported, which is entirely unnecessary and a direct loss

to the people, because the transportation has to be paid for, and so

much more comes out of the pockets of the laboring classes.

On a few large estates the land is worked on shares, the peasants

taking two-thirds of the produce, and giving the other third in lieu of

the rental, the landlord sharing the losses, as well as the profits,

when they occur. Olive groves are often managed on this plan, and it is

generally satisfactory.

Although square miles of land are lying idle, it is a singular

fact that the fields in the neighborhood of Athens do not produce

enough vegetables to supply the local market. Nobody seems to know

exactly why, although there is a general disposition to attribute the

phenomenon to the natural characteristics of the people and to say

that the Greeks are poor gardeners. The king sets a good example. He

has an estate and country-house about fifteen miles from Athens, and

several thousand acres of land under a high state of cultivation. It is

a sort of experimental farm in more senses than one, at which he not

only shows what can be done, but how to do it, and the advantages of

intelligent farming. He has the best live stock in Greece, the most

improved machinery, the best breeds of cattle, horses, sheep, swine and

poultry, and he sells milk, vegetables and other farm-produce in the

local market, as Victoria of England used to do on the Isle of Wight.

This example has done some good. It has made farming respectable,

although the Greeks have not followed the fashion to any great extent.

In fact, I could not learn of any native of wealth or influence who

has imitated His Majesty and gone into the garden-truck business. In

another direction the king has done great good. He furnishes seeds to

all farmers who will apply for them, and applications are frequent.

He has also done a good deal to improve the breeds of live stock and

poultry, although the horses and cattle of Greece are comparatively

poor. The sheep are much better.