CHAPTER XX. CORFU_Greece and the Ægean Islands

[Illustration]

The city of Patras, from which port we are about to take leave of

Greece, is probably the most incongruous city in the kingdom. To be sure

it is second in importance to Piræus, and the latter city is quite as

frankly commercial. But the proximity of the Piræus to Athens and the

presence of the Acropolis, crowned with its ruined temples always in the

field of view, conspire to take a little of the modern gloss off the

major port, and thus prevent it from displaying an entire lack of

harmony with those classic attributes which are the chief charm of

Hellas. Patras has no such environment. It has no such history. It is a

busy seaport town, a railroad centre, and it is about everything that

the rest of Greece is not. It even has a trolley line, which no other

Greek city at this writing has, although of course the years will bring

that convenience to Athens, as they have already brought the third-rail

inter-urban road to the sea.

Patras appears to have been as uninteresting in antiquity as it is

to-day, though doubtless from its advantageous position on the Gulf of

Corinth it was always a more or less prosperous place. A very dubious

tradition says that the Apostle Andrew was crucified here; and whether

he was or not, St. Andrew has remained the patron saint of the town. In

any event, Patras shares with Corinth the celebrity of being one of the

earliest seats of Christianity in Greece, although it is a celebrity

which Corinth so far overshadows that poor Patras is generally

forgotten. It probably figures to most Hellenic travelers, as it has in

our own case, as either an entrance or an exit, and nothing more. Still,

after one has spent a fortnight or more in the wilds of the

Peloponnesian mountains, an evening stroll through the brilliantly

lighted streets of the city comes not amiss, and gives one the sense of

civilization once more after a prolonged experience of the pastoral and

archaic.

It was stated early in this book that probably the ideal departure from

Greece is by way of the Piræus, as by that route one leaves with the

benediction of the Acropolis, which must be reckoned the crowning glory

of it all. But since we have elected to enter by the eastern gate in

voyaging through these pages, it is our lot to depart by the western,

and to journey back to Italy by way of Corfu, the island of Nausicaa. It

is not to be regretted, after all. One might look far for a lovelier

view than that to be had from the harbor of Patras. The narrow strait

that leads into the Corinthian Gulf affords a splendid panorama of

mountain and hill on the farther side, as the northern coast sweeps away

toward the east; while outside, toward the setting sun, one may see the

huge blue shapes of “shady Zakynthos,” and “low-lying” Ithaca—which it

has always struck me is not low-lying at all, but decidedly hilly.

Through the straits and past these islands the steamers thread their

way, turning northward into the Adriatic and heading for

Corfu—generally, alas, by night.

The redeeming feature of this arrangement is that, while it robs one of

a most imposing view of receding Greece, it gives a compensatingly

beautiful approach to Corfu on the following morning; and there is not a

more charming island in the world. It lies close to the Albanian shore,

and with reference to the voyage between Patras and Brindisi it is

almost exactly half way. In Greek it still bears the name of Kerkyra, a

survival of the ancient Corcyra, the name by which it was known in the

days when Athens and Corinth fought over it. The ancients affected to

believe it the island mentioned in the Odyssey as “Scheria,” the

Phæacian land ruled over by King Alcinoös; and there is no very good

reason why we also should not accept this story and call it the very

land where the wily Odysseus was cast ashore, the more especially since

his ship, converted into stone by the angry Poseidon, is still to be

seen in the mouth of a tiny bay not far from the city! We may easily

drive down to it and, if we choose, pick out the spot on shore where the

hero was wakened from his dreams by the shouts of Nausicaa and the maids

as they played at ball on the beach while the washing was drying.

In the ancient days, when navigation was conducted in primitive fashion

without the aid of the mariner’s compass, and when the only security lay

in creeping from island to island and hugging the shore, Corcyra became

a most important strategic point. In their conquest of the west, the

Greeks were wont to sail northward as far as this island, skirting the

mainland of Greece, and thence to strike off westward to the heel of

Italy, where the land again afforded them guidance and supplies until

they reached the straits of Messina. So that the route of Odysseus

homeward from the haunts of Scylla and Charybdis and the isle Ortygia

was by no means an unusual or roundabout one. This course of western

navigation gave rise to continual bickering among the great powers of

old as to the control of Corcyra, and Thucydides makes the contention

over the island the real starting-point of the difficulties that

culminated in the Peloponnesian war and in the overthrow of the Athenian

empire.

Modern Corfu has a very good outer harbor, suitable for large craft,

although landing, as usual, is possible only by means of small boats.

The declaration in Bædeker that the boatmen are insolent and rapacious

appears no longer to be true. The matter of ferriage to shore seems to

have been made the subject of wise regulation, and the charge for the

short row is no longer extortionate. From the water the city presents a

decidedly formidable appearance, being protected by some massive

fortifications which were doubtless regarded as impregnable in their

day, but which are unimportant now. They are of Venetian build, as are

so many of the fortresses in Greek waters. Aside from the frowning

ramparts of these ancient defenses, the town is a peaceful looking place

in the extreme, with its tall white and gray houses, green-shuttered and

trim. It is a town by no means devoid of picturesqueness, although it

will take but a few moments’ inspection to convince the visitor that

Corfu is by nature Italian rather than Greek, despite its incorporation

in the domains of King George. Corfu has always been in closer touch

with western Europe than with the East, and it is doubtless because she

has enjoyed so intimate a connection with Italy that her external

aspects are anything but Hellenic. Moreover the English were for some

years the suzerains of the island, and have left their mark on it, for

the island’s good, although it is many years since the British

government honorably surrendered the land to Greece, in deference to the

wish of the inhabitants.

Despite the Venetian character of the fortresses, they remind one

continually of Gibraltar, although of course infinitely less extensive.

Particularly is this true of the "fortezza nuova," which it is well

worth while to explore because of the fine view over the city and harbor

to be had from its highest point. A custodian resides in a tiny cabin on

the height and offers a perfectly needless telescope in the hope of

fees, although it is doubtful that many ever care to supplement the eye

by recourse to the glass. The prospect certainly is incomparably

beautiful. Below lies the city with its narrow streets and lofty

buildings, and before it the bay decked with white ships, contrasting

with the almost incredible blue of the water, for the ocean is nowhere

bluer than at Corfu. Across the straits not many miles away rises the

bluff and mountainous mainland of Albania and Epirus, stretching off

north and south into illimitable distances. Behind the town the country

rolls away into most fertile swales and meadows, bounded on the far

north by a high and apparently barren mountain. All the narrow southern

end of the island is a veritable garden, well watered, well wooded,

covered with grass and flowers, and rising here and there into low,

tree-clad hills. Trim villas dot the landscape, and on a distant hill

may be seen from afar the gleaming walls of the palace which belonged to

the ill-fated Empress of Austria.

From the fortress southward toward the bay where lies the “ship of

Ulysses,” there runs a beautiful esplanade along the water front, lined

with trees and flanked on the landward side by villas with most

luxuriant gardens. Even though the British occupation came to an end as

long ago as 1865, the roadways of the island bear the marks of the

British thoroughness, and make riding in Corfu a pleasure. The houses

along the way are largely of the summer-residence variety, the property

of wealthy foreigners rather than of native Corfiotes; and their

gardens, especially in the springtime, are a riot of roses, tumbling

over the high walls, or clambering all over the houses themselves, and

making the air heavy with their fragrance. The trees are no less

beautiful, and the roads are well shaded by them. After a month or so of

the comparatively treeless and often barren mainland of Greece, this

exuberant Eden is a source of keen enjoyment with its wanton profligacy

of bloom.

[Illustration: “SHIP OF ULYSSES.” CORFU]

It cannot be more than two miles, and perhaps it is rather less, over a

smooth road and through a continuous succession of gardens, from the

town of Corfu out to the little knoll which overlooks the bay and “ship

of Ulysses,” and the view down on that most picturesque islet and across

the placid waters of the narrow arm of the sea in which it lies,

furnishes one of the most beautiful prospects in the island. The “ship”

itself is a rather diminutive rock not far from shore, almost completely

enshrouded in sombre, slender cypresses, which give it its supposed

similarity to the Phæacian bark of the wily Ithacan. Nor is it a

similarity that is entirely imaginary. Seen from a distance, the pointed

trees grouped in a dark mass on this tiny isle do give the general

effect of a vessel. Those who know the picture called the “Island of

Death” will be struck at once with the similarity between the “ship” and

the painter’s ideal of the abode of shades; and with the best of

reasons, for it is said that this island was the model employed. Amidst

the dusk of the crowded trees one may distinguish a monastery, tenanted

we were told by a single monk, while on a neighboring island, closer to

the shore and connected therewith by a sort of rocky causeway, there is

another monastery occupied by some band of religious brothers. This

island also is not without its charms, but the eye always returns to

that mournful abandoned “ship,” which surpasses in its weird fascination

any other thing that Corfu has to show.

The Villa Achilleion, which lies off to the southward on a lofty hill,

shares with the ship of Ulysses the attention of the average visitor,

and worthily so, not only because of the great beauty of the villa

itself, with its mural paintings of classic subjects and its wonderful

gardens, but because of the exquisite view that is to be had over the

island from the spot. The lively verdure, the vivid blueness of the sea,

and the gloomy rocks of the Turkish shore, all combine to form a picture

not soon to be forgotten. As for the Achilleion itself, it was built for

the Empress of Austria, who was assassinated some years ago, and the

estate has now, I believe, passed into private hands. The road to it is

excellent, and occasional bits of the scenery along the way are highly

picturesque, with now and then an isolated and many-arched campanile,

adorned with its multiple bells in the Greek manner, obtruding itself

unexpectedly from the trees.

There are unquestionably many rides around the island that are quite as

enjoyable as this, but the ordinary visitor is doubtless the one who

stops over for a few hours only, during the stay of his steamer in the

port, and therefore has little time for more than the sights described.

Those who are able to make the island more than a brief way-station on

the way to or from Greece express themselves as enchanted with it, and

the number of attractive villas built by foreigners of means would seem

to emphasize the statement. Corfu as an island is altogether lovely.

The city itself has already been referred to as more Italian than Greek

in appearance. Nevertheless it is really Greek, and its shops are

certainly more like those of Athens than like those of Italy, while the

ordinary signboards of the street are in the Greek characters. It is the

height of the houses, the narrowness of the streets, the occasional

archways, and the fact that almost everybody can speak Italian, that

give the unmistakable Italian touch to Corfu after one has seen the

broader highways and lower structures of Athens. But Greco-Italian as it

is, one cannot get away from the fact that, after all, it reminds one

quite as much of Gibraltar as of anything. The town does this, quite as

much as the fortresses, with its narrow ways and its evident

cosmopolitanism. The shops, although devoted largely to Greek

merchandise, are a good deal like the Gibraltar bazaars, and make quite

as irresistible an appeal to the pocket, with their gorgeous embroidered

jackets, blue and gold vestments, and other barbaric but incredibly

magnificent fripperies, fresh from the tailor’s hand, and not, as at

Athens, generally the wares of second-hand dealers. To see peasant

jackets and vests of red and blue, and heavily ornamented with gold

tracery, go to Corfu. Nothing at Athens approaches the Corfiote display.

There are some archæological remains at Corfu, but not of commanding

prominence; and the average visitor, busied with the contemplation of

the loveliness of the country and the quaintness of the town for a few

brief hours, probably omits to hunt them up, as we ourselves did. The

most obvious monuments of the past are those of the medieval period, the

Venetian strongholds that served to protect Corfu when the island was an

important bulwark against the Saracens. Of the days when the rival

powers of classic Greece warred over the Corcyreans and their fertile

island, little trace has survived. There is a very old tomb in the

southerly suburb of Kastradès and the foundation of an ancient temple,

but neither is to be compared for interest with the host of monuments of

equal antiquity to be seen in Greece and even in Sicily. Corfu, like

Italy, has suffered a loss of the evidences of her antiquity by being so

constantly on the great highway to western Europe. She has never been

left to one side, as Greece so long was. Her fertility prevented her

degenerating into mere barren pasturage, as happened in Hellas proper,

and her situation made her important all through the Middle Ages, just

as it made her important during the expansion period of the Athenian

empire. And as Rome, through active and continuous existence, has

gradually eaten up her own ancient monuments before they achieved the

value of great age, so Corfu has lost almost entirely all trace of what

the ancient Corcyreans built; while Athens, through her long ages of

unimportance, preserved much of her classic monumental glories

unimpaired, and thanks to an awakened appreciation of them will cherish

them for all time.

The long years in which Greece lay fallow and deserted now appear not to

have been in vain. Through that period of neglect her ancient sites and

monuments lay buried and forgotten, but intact. Men were too busy

exploring and expanding elsewhere to waste a thought on the dead past.

Even the revival of learning, which exhumed the classic writings from

the oblivion of monkish cells and made the literature of Greece live

again, was insufficient to give back to the world the actual physical

monuments of that classic time. It has remained for the present day,

when the earth has been all but completely overrun and when men have

found a dearth of new worlds to conquer, that we have had the time and

the interest to turn back to Greece, sweep away the rubbish of ages, and

give back to the light of day the palaces of Agamemnon, the strongholds

of Tiryns, and the hoary old labyrinth of Minos. On the fringes of Magna

Græcia, where the empire was in touch with the unceasing tides of

western civilization, as in Sicily and at Corfu, the remnants of the

older days fared but ill. It was in the mountain fastnesses of the

Peloponnesus and in the gloomy glens of Delphi that so much of the

ancient, and even of the prehistoric and preheroic days, survived as to

give us moderns even a more definite knowledge of the times of the

Achæans and Trojans than perhaps even Homer himself had.

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INDEX

Acrocorinth, 169.

Acropolis, of Athens, first views of, 46;

description of, 76;

approach to, 79;

gates of, 79;

view from, 79, 80.

Acropolis Museum, 86, 91, 92.

Ægina, 39, 80, 137-139.

Agamemnon, 28, 167, 175, 180, 181.

Agora, at Athens, 76, 106.

Alcmæonidæ, 165.

Alpheios, 223, 256-258.

Andhritsæna, 227, 229-246.

Aphrodite, of Praxiteles, 315.

Apollo, 154, 243, 277, 278, 299.

Apoxyomenos, of Lysippus, 166.

Aqueduct, at Samos, 291-294.

Arcadia, 211-228.

Arch, development of, 181, 192.

Areopagus, 107.

Argive Heræum, 186.

Argos, 187, 172-192.

Ariadne, 31.

Artemis, 279, 300.

Asklepios, 3, 4, 97, 98, 203, 207, 308-311.

Athena, birth of, 83, 86;

strife of, with Poseidon, 83, 90;

sacred image of, 90;

Archaic representations of, 92;

Pronoia, 164,168.

Athens, approaches to, 46;

modern city, 50-75;

ancient traditions of, 51;

growth and history, 51, 52;

street venders, 55;

street names, 57;

stadium, 58;

street car system, 58;

climate of, 59, 60;

street scenes, 61-68;

newspapers, 63;

Shoe Lane, 63, 64;

shopping, 64;

street of the coppersmiths, 66;

giaourti, 68;

modern architecture, 69;

churches, 69, 70;

icons, 69;

soldiery, 70, 71;

funerals, 73;

conversation beads, 74;

Acropolis, 76;

destruction of, by Persians, 88.

Atreus, treasury of, 183, 184.

“Balaustion,” 273, 330.

Bassæ, 235-245.

Bee-hive tombs, 183, 184.

Bema, 109.

Beulé gate, 79.

Branchidæ, 297-303.

Burial customs, 73, 246.

Candia, 26-29.

Canea, 18-26.

Caryatid portico, 91.

Castalian spring, 167.

Cephissus, 50.

Ceramicus, 112-118.

Charioteer, statue of, at Delphi, 166.

Choragic monument of Lysicrates, 76, 104.

Churches, Greek, 69, 70.

Cnidos, 314-317.

Cnossos, 29-36.

Coffee, 66, 67.

Coffee-houses, 53, 54.

Corcyra (Kerkyra) 370.

Corfu, 368-380.

Corinth, 169, 170.

Corinthian canal, 148, 149.

Corinthian capitals, 105.

Corinthian Gulf, 149, 150.

Cos, 304-313.

Crete, 18-36.

Cr[oe]sus, 156;

trial of oracles by, 160, 161;

gifts to oracle at Delphi, 161-163.

Cyclopean masonry, 175, 189.

Cyclopes, 191.

Dances, of peasants, 139-145.

Daphne, pass of, 124;

convent of, 125.

Delos, 272-285;

legend of, 275;

dual nature, 276;

excavations at, 277;

ancient houses, 279-281.

Delphi, 146-168;

excavations at, 153-158;

legend of, 154, 155;

oracle at, 155-157, 159-165;

gifts of Cr[oe]sus to oracle, 161-163;

great temple at, 165;

corruption of oracle, 157-165;

statue of charioteer, 166.

Demeter, 128, 130.

Dipylon, 112.

Drachma, fluctuation of, 71-73.

Dragoman, 212.

Dress, of peasants, 142, 171, 201.

Easter eggs, 360.

Eleusinian mysteries, 128.

Eleusis, 124-132.

Elgin marbles, 83, 86.

Embroideries, 311, 325.

Ephebus, bronze statue at Athens, 118, 119.

Epidaurus, 198-210.

Erechtheum, 88;

sacred precinct of, 90.

Erechtheus, 89.

Giaourti, 68.

Greece, traveling in, 1-17;

entrances to, 37-49;

landing in, 44.

Greek churches, 69, 70.

Greek language, 9-13.

Greek people, character of, 14, 15, 53, 54.

Gremka, 255.

Hadrian, arch of, 48, 104.

Halicarnassus, 313.

Hera, 275, 294.

Heræum, Argive, 186;

at Olympia, 260;

at Samos, 291-294.

Hermes, of Praxiteles, 268, 269.

Herodotus, 90, 160-163, 290, 291.

Hippocrates, tree of, at Cos, 307.

Hippodameia, 266.

Hymettus, 39, 47.

Icons, 69.

Ictinus, 81, 243.

Ios (Nios) 352-360.

Islands, of the Ægean, 272-367;

geographical arrangement, 273;

communication with, 274.

Karytæna, 224.

King George, 74, 75.

Knights of Rhodes, 305, 319.

Labyrinth, of Minos, 31, 32.

Lindos, 318.

Lion Gate, at Mycenæ, 178, 179.

Long walls, at Athens, 42.

Loukoumi, 25.

Lycabettus, 38.

Lysippus, 166.

Malmsey wine, 367.

Marathon, 133.

Mars Hill, 76, 88, 107.

Mausoleum, 313.

Megalokastron, 27.

Megalopolis, 218-223.

Menidi, dances at, 139-145.

Midnight mass, 353-361.

Minoan age, 28.

Minos, 27-31;

throne of, 33.

Minotaur, 31, 32, 89, 112.

Monemvasía, 365-367.

Mycenæ, 169-186;

accommodation at, 173;

excavations at, 175;

acropolis of, 177;

Lion Gate, 178, 179;

Cyclopean masonry, 175, 178, 179;

inverted columns, 178;

tombs at, 180;

reservoir, 182;

treasury of Atreus, 183.

Mycenæan age, 28;

stone pillars of, 33, 178.

Mycenæan relics at Athens, 120-122.

Mykale, 288.

National Museum, at Athens, 118.

Nauplia, 193-198.

Nausicaa, 371.

Navigation, in ancient times, 273, 371.

Newspapers, 10, 63.

Niké Apteros, temple of, 80;

binding sandal, 81;

of Pæonius, 263, 270.

Odeon of Herodes Atticus, 96.

Odysseus, 16, 17, 370.

[OE]nomaus, legend of, 266.

Olympia, overland route to, 247-258;

site of, 259-271;

temple of Zeus at, 260, 263.

Olympian Zeus, temple of, at Athens, 48, 76, 104.

Olympic games, 264-266;

modern, 271.

Orientation of temples, 242.

Paganism, traces of, in Greek church, 3, 4.

Painting, of statues, 91.

Panathenaic festival, 89.

Parian marble, 362.

Parnassus, 145, 151.

Paros, 351, 361-365.

Parthenon, 3, 4;

destruction by Morosini, 77, 85;

description of, 82-88;

pedimental sculptures of, 83;

curious architectural devices, 84-86;

restorations of, 86;

frieze of, 87.

Patras, 368.

Paul, sermon to the Athenians, 107.

Peasant dances, 139-145.

Peasant dress, 142, 171, 201.

Pedestal of Agrippa, 81.

Pedimental sculptures, of Parthenon, 83;

at Olympia, 267, 268.

Pelops, 266.

Pentelic marble, 134.

Pentelicus, 38, 134.

Pericles, 42.

Persians, invasion by, 87, 88;

at Delphi, 164.

Phalerum, 45.

Philopappos, monument of, 47.

Piraeus, 39-46.

Pnyx, 108.

Political customs, 61.

Polychrome decoration of temples, 92.

Polycrates, 290.

Poseidon, strife with Athena, 83, 90.

Praxiteles, 268, 315.

Propylæa, 79, 80, 81.

Ptolemy II., 311.

Pythagoras, 291.

Religious anniversaries, 62, 353-361.

Reservoir, at Mycenæ, 182.

Resinated wine, 137.

Rhodes, 318-333;

Colossus of, 332.

Rhodian plates, 323, 324.

Routes to Greece, 15, 16.

St. Elias, successor of ancient Helios, 5.

Salamis, 39, 43, 132.

Samos, 286-297.

Santorin, 334-350.

“Ship of Ulysses,” 375.

Shoe Lane, at Athens, 63-65.

Shopping in Athens, 63-65.

Soldiery, 70, 71.

Sparta, 216.

Stage, use of, in Greek theatre, 100, 101.

Stoa, 106.

Stoics, 106.

Suda Bay, 19, 25, 26.

Sunium, 37, 134-138.

Taÿgetos, 216.

Temples, survival of, as Christian churches, 4.

Theatre of Dionysus, 98;

of Epidaurus, 204.

Theatres, 99-103.

Themistoclean wall, 113.

Themistocles, 42, 113.

Theocritus, 312.

Thera, 334-350.

Theseum, 110.

Theseus, 31, 89, 111.

Tiryns, 188-192.

Tomb-sculpture, 114-118.

Tombs, at Mycenæ, 183, 184.

Tower of the Winds, 105.

Treasury of Atreus, 183.

Troy, 28, 36.

Villa Achilleion, 376.

“Virgin of a Hundred Gates,” 361.

Votive offerings, 126.

Xerxes, 87, 88.

Zeus, legends of, in Crete, 30;

temple in Athens, 48, 76, 104;

temple at Olympia, 260;

statue at Olympia, 263;