might be dangerous business for these Great Powers.
England knows that Russia is watching her opportunity to slip in at the
first opening, and may get to the prize first. And Russia, and Germany,
and the rest all alike fear the same thing of each other. If any one of
them _alone_ should make a move against the Turk,--the rest, like a pack
of wolves, would be at her throat in an hour.
So the Powers must all act together or in _concert_. And this is what is
known as the "Concert of Europe."
And this much talked-of Concert of Europe has for its chief object the
preservation of the _balance of power._ That is, not permitting any one of
the European States to become very much more powerful than it already is,
and thus disturb the _equilibrium_ of the whole.
This delicate condition of affairs regarding Turkey is known as the
"Eastern Question." And it is considered so important because, more than
any other, it threatens the "balance of power."
Whether Russia, or England, or Germany would be richer after an upset in
Turkey, no one can tell. But it is pretty certain that new maps would have
to take the place of your old ones, with the familiar outlines of some of
the European States much altered.
So the Christian Powers have been for a century trying not to hear the
cries of anguish and terror coming from the Ottoman Empire, because
European diplomacy has decided that the only safe course is to let the
"unspeakable Turk" stay where he is; and the Sultan, secure in his foul,
crime-stained old Empire, which is tottering and crumbling under his feet,
laughs softly, and rubs his hands in pleasant satisfaction, and the
butchery goes on.
But recently the cries from Armenia became so piercing, so heartrending,
and so prolonged, that the Christian people in Europe would stand it no
longer. They demanded that, come what would, the Powers _must_ put a stop
to the wholesale slaughter of Armenian Christians.
So the six Ambassadors of the six Great European States came together and
gravely discussed what should be done.
One of the ways of diplomacy is to act very slowly. This gives time for
things to come right again of themselves, and also time for the people to
cool down, and not disturb the game by foolish outbursts of sentiment.
And another of the ways of diplomacy in this Eastern Question has been,
with great show of indignation, to threaten the Sultan with destruction
unless--he promises certain reforms for the future.
This, of course, he is perfectly willing to do. He solemnly pledges
protection to the Christians, and punishment to their persecutors, without
the slightest intention of carrying out the promised reforms. Indeed, he
knows that he could not do it even if he wanted to. And the Powers know it
too, just as well as they know _they_ would not carry out their threat to
destroy his rickety throne.
But all this talk gives time, and two or three more years are thus gained
for the Sultan and for the Powers, too; and in the mean time the people
are pacified, because they think something is being done toward wiping
out the great iniquity in the East.
But as I said, the Ambassadors of the six Powers not long ago came
together, and under instructions from their various governments talked
over the Armenian atrocities. Just as they were cautiously and solemnly
preparing their decision, or _ultimatum_, as it is called (which was the
old threat to the Sultan if the Christians were not protected), something
unexpected happened.
It was not a part of the diplomatic game at all; and it was the act of an
insignificant Kingdom, which had nothing whatever to say in the great
European Concert.
The name of this insignificant Kingdom is the most splendid and renowned
in the history of the world.
For two thousand years people in all other lands have been trying to do
things as well as they did. But no such pictures, no such statues, no such
architecture as theirs has ever been produced. No men have talked and
thought as wisely upon great subjects. No poets have excelled theirs in
grandeur. No women have been more perfect types of beauty and refinement;
and no men more liberty-loving, grand, and heroic.
Now, do you know the name of this people? They were the _Ancient Greeks_.
And the brave little Kingdom which has just upset all the calculations of
the Great Powers is _Modern Greece_.
Since the days of her ancient splendor, poor Greece, shorn of all her
glory, has been terribly humiliated.
First, the Romans broke her power; then the Venetians tore her from the
Romans; and then, worse than all, she became a slave to the Turk. For a
Christian nation, that means all possible suffering. And for five hundred
years she was scourged and insulted by her Mohammedan master.
In the year 1820 the Greeks on the little peninsula resolved to be free,
or to perish.
Like Cuba, they struggled. For nine long years Europe looked calmly on.
Then people began to wonder at the invincible spirit of these new Greeks,
and finally the world rang with praises of their valor, and there was an
outburst of popular sympathy. Men from England and other lands volunteered
to help them in their splendid fight for liberty. And Lord Byron, the
great English poet, laid down his life in their cause.
At last the Great Powers began to think it would not be a bad thing to
have a Christian race ruling the classic peninsula. And England, France,
and Russia decided to help to put the little kingdom on its feet, and
appointed its ruler.
They first selected Prince Alfred, Victoria's second son. But this did not
give satisfaction. Finally, Otho, son of the King of Bavaria, was chosen,
and then elected by the people, first king of Greece.
That was in 1835. In 1863, Otho was deposed, and a new king had to be
found. The selection has proved to be a very wise one. King George was the
son of Christian IX. of Denmark, and is therefore the brother of the
Princess of Wales. During his reign of thirty-four years, Greece has
steadily improved.
But all of the Greek Christians were not freed by this heroic struggle.
There still remained several millions of their race in Macedonia and other
parts of the Ottoman Empire. These people have looked on enviously at the
prosperity and freedom of their kinsmen in Greece, and are always planning
and hoping for the time when they, too, may break the Turkish yoke.
Twenty thousand of these Greeks live on the island of _Crete_, where they
suffer unspeakably; not alone from the cruel oppression of Ottoman rule,
but from the persecutions and daily conflicts with the Mohammedans who
live with them on the island.
If you will examine a map of Europe, you will see the Greek peninsula,
looking as if it had been broken into fragments and half devoured by the
sea. Just south of its ragged edge lies this little island of _Crete_, of
which all the world is talking to-day.
It looks as if one of the fragments of Greece had broken off and floated
away a short distance, and was waiting for the tide to come some day and
carry it back to its old home.
And that is just what happened long, long ago; and it seems now as if the
tide had set in, which is going to float it back to its old moorings by
its motherland.
The island of Crete originally belonged to Greece. It is one of the most
classic spots in the world. For there, on and about Mount Ida, Jupiter,
the great god of Greek mythology, is supposed to have spent his boy-hood.
And Homer sung about this island, too. And he has described its _ninety
cities_--which surprises us very much when we reflect that the island is a
narrow strip of land only one hundred and fifty miles long; so that the
ninety cities must have been set close together, like a string of beads!
However this may be, it has just three towns now, which are making history
for Europe in a very remarkable fashion; and are more talked about to-day
than London, Paris, and St. Petersburg.
Ever since the Greeks struggled into freedom, seventy-five years ago, and
became an independent kingdom, it has been the dream of the Cretans to get
back to their mother country. Recently their sufferings have been past
endurance, and at last, in their helpless wretchedness, they cried out to
Greece to come and take them under her protection. They said: "We are one
with you in race and in religion. We speak your language; you are our
natural rulers. Let us be a part of your Christian kingdom."
With splendid daring and enthusiasm Greece responded to the appeal.
King George sent men and arms and ships, and his brave young son Prince
George as Admiral of the fleet, and declared his determination at all
hazards to take the island under his protection. Not only would he fight
the Turks in Crete or in Greece, but he would carry the war into the
Ottoman Empire itself, if necessary.
The Powers were aghast. Fight the Turk! Was that not the very thing they
had for a century been trying _not_ to do? Disturb the Sultan in those
dominions of which he was the only safe and harmless occupant! Tear away
the barrier between Europe and Asia, and let the torrent rush through--the
prizes going to the strongest! What madness--what folly! What impertinence
for this King George to assume such a responsibility, and to invite such a
crisis!
But King George never wavered in his purpose. The Powers sent demands,
and then threats, but all were met firmly by the reply, that _he should
not withdraw his troops from Crete_.
What made it more difficult and exasperating was that the people--the
people, who are always giving their rulers so much trouble, and making it
so hard for them--were wildly applauding King George and the Greeks for
the firm stand they had taken, and saying that the old fire which burned
at Marathon and Thermopylæ had not been extinguished; that the modern
Greeks were the worthy sons of a great race!
In England, France, and Italy, public opinion has to be listened to, if
their Governments would stand! When the Ambassadors and the Ministers of
these three countries read the papers and the telegrams, they began to go
very slowly and cautiously. But Germany and Russia, although bound, as I
have already told you, by close family relationships to the King of
Greece, were in hot indignation that he should have audaciously raised
such a storm. He must be stopped at once in a course which might embroil
Europe in a war with Turkey; and more than that, he must be punished.
Then there were more conferences, which were more solemn than before:
three of the Ministers (Salisbury, Hanotaux, and Rudini) not very sure
that an indignant people might not even then be planning their overthrow;
and the other three, with no such apprehension, urging extreme and severe
measures against Greece.
At last they thought they had found a safe compromise.
They would demand that the Sultan should give up Crete, which should have
its own government, or _autonomy_, as it is called, with a ruler whom
they, the Powers, should select. Greece must go home with her troops and
her ships, and have nothing hereafter to do with the fate of the island.
This was considered a wise solution of the difficulty. It would satisfy
public opinion in Europe, while at the same time it properly humiliated
Greece, who would be rebuked before all the world.
Again something unexpected happened. The stalwart, stubborn Cretans had
their own views and preferences.
They did not want autonomy at all. What they desired was _union with
Greece_; and Greece declared her unaltered and unalterable determination
to stand by the island at any cost, and to protect her from being coerced
into a political condition she did not desire.
One small, feeble nation dared to stand up and defy the combined power of
Europe!
There was indignation and amazement among the Powers, who after further
consultation sent an ultimatum to Greece and to Turkey. They must both
withdraw from the island of Crete within six days, or the combined fleets
of six European States would compel them to do it.
The polite Sultan, who never refuses demands, of course consented at once.
But what do you think was the reply of the Prime Minister of Greece?
They were brave words! He said: _"Greece would rather be wiped off the map
of Europe than yield to the threat of the Powers!"_
There were twenty thousand of her countrymen on the island, helpless,
defenceless, among fierce and cruel Mohammedans. Greece had promised them
protection. She would _not_ leave them to their fate!
But in the mean time the storm clouds have been gathering in other parts
of the sky. The people in England and France and Italy are asking very
significantly whether their Governments are expecting them to fire upon a
Christian army and the Cross, in defence of the rights of the Mohammedan
Empire and the Crescent?
In addition to this, another storm cloud seems to be forming over the
Ottoman Empire itself. There are indications of a general uprising where
Greek Christians abound.
If the clouds over Turkey and those over Europe should unite--what then?
The Powers could fight battalions; but could they stand before a whirlwind
of popular sentiment?
Macedonia has no doubt long cherished the hope of a reunion with Greece;
and the other Græco-Turkish provinces too. Perhaps they think the hour is
at hand for realizing that hope!
Nor is it strange if Greece also has been long hoping that when the
Ottoman Empire did finally crumble--as it must--she might out of the wreck
be able to bring together the long-separated fragments of her race.
God grant there may be no conflict between Greece and Europe. But if it
does come--and if a general overturning follows, as it might--it is not
impossible that Greece may come out of it a new and greater kingdom, by a
reunion of the scattered Hellenic (or Greek) peoples.
It is not at all improbable that some such dream of Hellenic unity
underlies the extraordinary drama we are witnessing in the East.
Of course, it is wise to try and avert a great European war. And of
course, diplomacy and tact are needed in dealing with such a delicate and
complicated situation. But there are two opposing parties in England which
hold different views as to the policy which should be pursued in this
"Eastern Question."
Mr. Gladstone, the great and sagacious statesman, has always insisted that
whatever the result, _the Christians in Turkey should be protected by
Christian Europe_; and that the British policy should be a straightforward
and resolute dealing with the Sultan. That is, if promised reforms are not
carried out in good faith by him, the Powers should fulfil their threats
to destroy his authority in his Empire.
About forty years ago the opposite policy was advocated (if not created)
by another great leader and statesman, Lord Beaconsfield; and has ever
since been the one pursued by Great Britain.
Its main purpose is to keep the wicked old Ottoman Empire undisturbed, and
to shield it from the indignation of Europe.
Here and there the Sultan is compelled to loosen his grasp upon some
exasperated and suffering province like Crete, which is set up as an
_autonomous_ (or self-governing) principality (or kingdom), under a double
protection from Turkey and Europe.
This looks kind, and as if the Sultan was being severely dealt with and
punished. But at the same time the knowledge of Turkish atrocities is
being carefully suppressed; and harrowing stories of cruelties in Bulgaria
a few years ago, and in Armenia to-day, are listened to with smiling
incredulity; because it is inconvenient to take notice of these things
while the situation in the East is critical.
Some people think this is a very crooked and shuffling policy for the
great British Empire to pursue. And others, that the Gladstone policy is
sentimental and dangerous.
Of course, the policy which has been for years adopted by England is
controlled entirely by motives of _interest_, and has not one lofty
purpose in it. But when there was talk of making war upon Greece in
_defence of the rights of the Sultan_, the Government realized it had gone
one step too far.
The people would not, and _will_ not permit it. And we are rejoiced to
know that the good and gracious Queen herself protests against such an
act, and is deeply in sympathy with Greece and the Cretans.
It looks now very much as if the much-talked-of Concert of Europe was
about to break in two as cleanly as an orange. Russia, Germany, and
Austria in one half; and England, France, and Italy in the other.
The Emperor of Germany is very angry at the desertion of the other three
States, and threatens dire and dreadful things.
The young Czar of Russia, with his gentle eyes and delicate face, does not
look capable of severity.
But he is a Russian. And he has settled himself in the seat of his
ancestors, evidently with a stern purpose of carrying out their despotic
policy.
Small matter is it that King George of Greece is his mother's brother.
Small matter that the young Admiral of the Greek fleet is his cousin and
loved companion, whose quick, strong arm and ready courage saved his life
in Japan five years ago.
He will not be swerved by personal influences from the course demanded by
Russian interests.
The Emperor of Austria has no family ties, no personal feelings to sway
him; and he is the natural ally of despotic Russia and Germany.
With these three men, lies the fate of Greece, Crete, and perhaps the
"Eastern Question" to-day.
Will they meet the other three States half-way, and effect a peaceful
compromise? Or will they carry out the threat of the German Emperor, and,
in the words of her own brave Prime Minister:
_"Wipe Greece off the map of Europe"?_
Now this is the story of the Greek and Cretan troubles of which every one
is talking in Europe and in America.
Some time it will be printed in grave-looking histories, and will perhaps
seem very dry and dull to the young people who have to commit to memory
the strange names of men and places, and perhaps, the dates of great
battles fought!
It is your privilege to read this thrilling story from day to day, as it
unfolds.
The European and Cuban despatches which your fathers and brothers eagerly
read and talk about at breakfast every morning, are _history_. Not dried
and pressed between the covers of a school-book, with all the life and
spirit taken out of it; but history warm and palpitating with life;
telling of things which happened yesterday, and are happening to-day, and
which we all fear or else long for to-morrow.
Every American with the blood of a patriot in his veins is longing to
hear to-morrow that _Cuba_ is free, and that _Crete_ is safely restored to
the arms of Greece. This will happily close two of the most thrilling
chapters in the history of modern times.
MARY PLATT PARMELE.
SUPPLEMENT TO:::
=THE=
=Great Round World=
=AND WHAT IS GOING ON IN IT=
* * * * *
VOL. 1 MARCH 25, 1897. NO. 20
* * * * *
JUNO.
Juno was the cat. We all knew perfectly well that there never had been
such a cat as Juno. Not that she was so fine-looking, or so expensive. She
would never have taken a prize at a cat show, unless it might have been
the booby prize. She was the very plainest kind of a brindled cat, and she
wandered into our house from the street during her early kittenhood and
calmly established herself in mother's work-basket.
From that time on Juno had been the friend and playmate of the younger
generation. She never seemed like an animal to any of us. Many a time I
have heard Ned apologize for having unintentionally hurt Juno, with the
exclamation:
"Oh, excuse me, Juno, I didn't mean to do that!"
After which Juno always purred softly, and showed that she had forgiven
him.
But the one thing that specially distinguished Juno from all the other
cats that I ever knew, was her big-hearted motherhood. If Juno had been a
woman, how many desolate orphans she would have cared for! She would have
given them summer outings, no doubt, and would have filled their
stockings brimful at Christmas time.
Not being a woman, Juno did her best, nevertheless, to make the world a
little easier for all the orphans she knew. What a heart must have beaten
under that gray fur! Ned and I often talked of it, and were filled with
regret that Juno could not understand our language so that we could talk
to her and get her views on the subject.
There was the time when she adopted the chicken, for instance. We knew
Juno so well that we felt perfectly certain how she looked at those
things, and so when the old yellow hen declined to acknowledge the little
black chicken as hers, and pecked its head whenever it went near her, we
took the helpless and disowned orphan and put it in Juno's bed, between
the two kittens.
"There, Juno," said Ned, by way of explanation to her look of
astonishment, "there's a child that's been deserted by its unfeeling
mother; I wish you'd look after it."
And Juno took the chicken and held it with one paw while she licked it all
over, though I am not sure that she liked the taste of the soft down that
covered the little stranger. She kept the chicken all that night and every
night afterwards until it considered itself big enough to go alone.
How we used to laugh to see Juno walking about the yard with her
foster-child chirping after her, or to see the chicken run to her and
insist on being hovered!
[Illustration]
As time passed the adopted child became independent and needed no further
guardianship, yet the friendliest relations existed between the two. Even
after the chicken was grown and had chickens of her own they seldom met in
their promenades about the place that Juno did not pause to rub her head
affectionately against the neck of the orphan that she had brought up.
* * * * *
Juno was about a year older, I think, when there was a death in her
family. The one little kitten that she loved with all her mother heart
died and left her desolate. It was a very sad occasion, I remember, but we
had a great funeral. We dug the grave at the end of the garden. Johnny's
express wagon was the hearse, and Johnny drew it, and was very serious
indeed. We borrowed Mrs. Martin's baby carriage, and that was the mourning
coach. Juno rode in it, with Ned and Gimps walking one on each side and
holding her in. I pushed the coach, while a long procession of the
neighbors' children came behind, crying with all their might. We sung a
hymn at the grave, and did everything we could to soothe Juno's grief.
But Juno would not be reconciled. She drooped around and mewed so
pitifully for several days that we could not endure it; so we went to a
neighbor's cat that had more kittens than she needed, and borrowed one of
them for Juno. Dear me, how proud she was of it, and how she took it in
her arms and cuddled it up close to her! The whole family came out to look
at her, and the Colonel said:
"And this is only a cat! What great tenderness there should be in the
human heart when a poor little animal can be like this!"
And the next day Uncle Dick, who was a great favorite with all of us, rode
up to the fence and shouted cheerily:
"Hello, boys! Here is a present for you. I killed a mother fox at the
mouth of her hole, and here is one of her babies."
And he reached down into his pocket and drew out a baby fox about as large
as an interrogation point, but the funniest and sharpest little thing you
ever saw, though its eyes were not open yet.
With one accord we shouted:
"There's a baby for Juno!" and away we ran with it and laid it beside the
new kitten.
Juno arose and looked the little stranger over with evident anxiety. She
seemed to be troubled with some haunting suspicion that this was not an
orthodox cat. The bushy red tail was a special subject of curiosity. She
touched it up with her paw and looked at it with her head on one side.
For several dreadful minutes we were afraid that Juno was going to leave
an orphan on our hands; but we did not know her, after all. In a few
moments she reached the conclusion that the fox was probably a cat of some
new and interesting kind, and she lay down again, purring softly, and took
the little stranger to her heart.