cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to
speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own
choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by
Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that
could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in
Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little
courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch
my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like _Miss Flyte_, in "Bleak House,"
for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment."
It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years
earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help
in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear
husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling
bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the
money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its
way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing
for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in
Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan
children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid
thus afforded, to earn their own support.
Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment
in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived
from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms,
the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable
them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a
dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them
all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton
fabrics, and serviceable carpets.
In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth
of Lord Byron's lines:--
The mountains look on Marathon,
And Marathon looks on the sea.
This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the
hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after
dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the
Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands,
but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of
some three hours brought us to the spot.
A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its
centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle;
a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic
sunlight--this is what we saw at Marathon.
Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of
daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon
an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such
ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy
descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our
own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all
heroic deeds have a fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes
extinct.
Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art
should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the
function assigned it in our own.
The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its
popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not,
as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas
characterize for us the _morale_ of that ancient community. They
expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to
the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination
in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the
sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:--
Himself from God he could not free.
How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may
infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,--that a
certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people
had no god left to pray to.
In the city of the Cæsars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury.
The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the
state, to which their church was in great measure subservient. The
statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and
palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since
it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which
for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force,
column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln.
Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of
to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name
or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our
daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less
fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of _bric-à-brac_, bits of
color, an unexpected shimmer here and there--such are the favorite
aspects of art with us.
In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been
purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our
people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that
in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury
than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection.
We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion
sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can
look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with reverent appreciation,
and behold in them a record of the naïve and simple faith of a great
people.
If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama?
Sit down with me before this palace of OEdipus, whose façade is the
only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the
whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its
doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon
his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the
verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence
for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the
plot.
Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most
striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic"
play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will
attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must
be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the
fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The
_dénouement_ will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that
virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and
such vice! How shall we be sure which is which?
During this visit, I had an interview which brought me face to face
with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of
my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent
efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule.
I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a
number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with
the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts
made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance
with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the
appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were
five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque
costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michælis, the youngest of
the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others.
Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years,
and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This
was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The
chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One
of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French,
setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of
the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:--
MADAM,--
We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece
the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with
pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that
we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our
fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by
assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the
benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always
living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the
Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of
a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the
gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the
moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our
sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and
your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by
the ties of gratitude.
The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:--
MY DEAR SIR,--
I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for
their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to
which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of
the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render
to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his
later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his
native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest
endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have
struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their
country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these
gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the
welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of Crete.
Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I
shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island,
[Greek] tên eleutherian tês Krêtês.
A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:--
The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears
to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the
ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821,
and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri
interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his
fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for
refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek,
to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her
the voice of her heart.
I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the
interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and
we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern
Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present
invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed
to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just
described.
Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I
must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast
of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air,
would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take
place, is an ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The
sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its
surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the
unclassic railway furnished our conveyance.
The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all
entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This
was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set
out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a
short time,--some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting
on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour,
after which interval, dinner was announced.
Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right
sat Katzi Michælis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like
blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevaïdes, the giver
of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup
was served,--quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that
the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with
them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of
the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern _entremets_
followed, and then, as _pièce de résistance_, the lambs, with
accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting his first
glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance
to the master of the feast.
The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became
time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and
necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in
one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner
many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs.
Howe. Mr. Paraskevaïdes drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health
of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and
afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French,
with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only
say that I did as well as I was able.
At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure
Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans
will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At
this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President
Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent
lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The
eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had
become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to
acknowledge the compliment in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as
excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so
heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some
lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:--
I greet the warriors of brave Crete
Assembled in this place.
Each of them represents her mountains,
Each her heart, each her breath.
If life may be measured by struggles,
So great is her life,
That on the day when she becomes free
Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom.
The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards,
resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest--Korakas, Kriaris, and
Syphacus--spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with
them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the
same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded.
When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter
saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in
the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company,
"Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were
her father's companions in arms."
After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens,
seemed a return to the commonplace.
A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents,
without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have
representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox.
It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and
condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies.
The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its
special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any
other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic
congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek
children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact
prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat
disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds
from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the
form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The
schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been
forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them
to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood.
The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went
on, making converts from time to time, and supplying certainly a direct
and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of
the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks
who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent
love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her
religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the
Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which
their national existence has been preserved.
When the very name of Hellene was almost obliterated from the minds of
those entitled to bear it, the Greek priesthood were unwearied in
keeping alive the love of the ancient ritual and doctrine, the belief in
the Christian religion. This debt of gratitude is warmly remembered by
the Greeks of to-day, and their church is still to them the symbol of
national, as well as of religious, unity. On the other hand, the
progress of religious thought and culture carries inquiring minds beyond
the domain of ancient and literal interpretation, and the outward
conformity which society demands is counter-balanced by much personal
scepticism and indifference. The missionaries, who cannot compete in
polite learning with the _élite_ of their antagonists, are yet much
better informed than the greater part of the secular clergy, and
represent, besides, something of American freedom, and the right and
duty of doing one's own thinking in religious matters, and of accepting
doctrines, if at all, with a living faith and conviction, not with a
dead and formal assent. It is one of those battles between the Past and
the Future which have to fight themselves out to an issue that outsiders
cannot hasten.
Shall I close these somewhat desultory remarks with any attempt at a
lesson which may be drawn from them? Yes; to Americans I will say: Love
Greece. Be glad of the men who rose up from your midst at the cry of her
great anguish, to do battle in her behalf. Be glad of the money which
you or your fathers sent to help her. America never spends money better
than in this way. Remember what this generation may be in danger of
forgetting,--that we can never be so great ourselves as to be absolved
from regarding the struggle for freedom, in the remotest corners of the
earth, with tender sympathy and interest. And in the great reactions
which attend human progress, when self-interest is acknowledged as the
supreme god everywhere, and the ideals of justice and honor are set out
of sight and derided, let the heart of this country be strong to protest
against military usurpation, against barbarous rule. Let America invite
to her shores the dethroned heroes of liberal thought and policy, saying
to them: "Come and abide with us; we have a country, a hand, a heart,
for you."
The Salon in America
THE word "society" has reached the development of two opposite meanings.
The generic term applies to the body politic _en masse_; the specific
term is technically used to designate a very limited portion of that
body. The use, nowadays, of the slang expression "sassiety" is evidence
that we need a word which we do not as yet possess.
It is with this department of the human fellowship that I now propose to
occupy myself, and especially with one of its achievements, considered
by some a lost art,--the salon.
This prelude of mine is somewhat after the manner of _Polonius_, but, as
Shakespeare must have had occasion to observe, the mind of age has ever
a retrospective turn. Those of us who are used to philosophizing must
always go back from a particular judgment to some governing principle
which we have found, or think we have found, in long experience. The
question whether salons are possible in America leads my thoughts to
other questions which appear to me to lie behind this one, and which
primarily concern the well-being of civilized man.
The uses of society, in the sense of an assemblage for social
intercourse, may be briefly stated as follows: first of all, such
assemblages are needed, in order to make people better friends.
Secondly, they are needed to enlarge the individual mind by the
interchange of thought and expression with other minds. Thirdly, they
are needed for the utilization of certain sorts and degrees of talent
which would not be available either for professional, business, or
educational work, but which, appropriately combined and used, can
forward the severe labors included under these heads, by the
instrumentality of sympathy, enjoyment, and good taste.
Any social custom or institution which can accomplish one or more of
these ends will be found of important use in the work of civilization;
but here, as well as elsewhere, the ends which the human heart desires
are defeated by the poverty of human judgment and the general ignorance
concerning the relation of means to ends. Society, thus far, is a sort
of lottery, in which there are few prizes and many blanks, and each of
these blanks represents some good to which men and women are entitled,
and which they should have, and could, if they only knew how to come at
it.
Thus, social intercourse is sometimes so ordered that it develops
antagonism instead of harmony, and makes one set of people the enemies
of another set, dividing not only circles, but friendships and
families. This state of things defeats society's first object, which, in
my view, is to make people better friends. Secondly, it will happen, and
not seldom, that the frequent meeting together of a number of people,
necessarily restricted, instead of enlarging the social horizon of the
individual, will tend to narrow it more and more, so that sets and
cliques will revolve around small centres of interest, and refuse to
extend their scope.
In this way, end number two, the enlargement of the individual mind is
lost sight of, and, end number three, the interchange of thought and
experience does not have room to develop itself.
People say what they think others want to hear: they profess experiences
which they have never had. Here, consequently, a sad blank is drawn,
where we might well look for the greatest prize; and, end number four,
the utilization of secondary or even tertiary talents is defeated by the
application of a certain fashion varnish, which effaces all features of
individuality, and produces a wondrously dull surface, where we might
have hoped for a brilliant variety of form and color.
These defects of administration being easily recognized, the great
business of social organizations ought to be to guard against them in
such wise that the short space and limited opportunity of individual
life should have offered to it the possibility of a fair and generous
investment, instead of the uncertain lottery of which I spoke just now.
One of the great needs of society in all times is that its guardians
shall take care that rules or institutions devised for some good end
shall not become so perverted in the use made of them as to bring about
the result most opposed to that which they were intended to secure.
This, I take it, is the true meaning of the saying that "the price of
liberty is eternal vigilance," no provision to secure this being sure to
avail, without the constant direction of personal care to the object.