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THE
ISLES AND SHRINES
GREECE
or THE
UNIVERSITY
_ or
THE
ISLES AND SHRINES
OF
GREECE
BY
SAMUEL J. BARROWS
ILLUSTRATED
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1899
\ B R
^f THE
dfORH\}L,
Copyright, 1898,
By Samuel J. Barrows.
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
TO
WILHELM DORPFELD, Ph.D., LL.D.
director oC tije German ^rcfjacoloflical 5fgtitute at ^ttens,
WHO IN BRINGING TO LIGHT THE HIDDEN TREASURES
OF THE OLD WORLD HAS WON THE
GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
OF THE NEW.
PREFACE
The isles and shrines of Greece ! Not all the
shrines, nor all the isles, but many of them, and these
the most beautiful and the most famous.
This book is a partial expression of gratitude for
rich opportunities enjoyed in Greece, where few per-
sons, I fancy, have had a more varied experience.
The great difficulty has been to compress within the
limits of one volume the mass of material at my
command. No place is described that I have not
seen, though I saw many places which there is no
room to describe. Nearly all of the illustrations
are reproductions from photographs from my own
camera.
In fulfilling a desire to enter Greece by the por-
tals of the Odyssey and to leave it through the
Trojan gates of the Iliad, my trip included the
Ionian Islands, the Peloponnesus, Phocis, Thessaly,
Attica, the ^gean Islands and Troy. If Crete is
not included, it is because it lay out of my path,
not because I admit the Turkish claim to that
island, which by every consideration of history, Ian-
Vlll PREFACE
guage, and tradition ought to be on the map of
Greece.
As I was the only American accompanying Dr.
Dorpfeld in his fruitful excavations at Troy in 1893, it
is a special satisfaction to present some of the main
results of that expedition to American readers.
Athens, the centre of Greek life and nationality, has
received a large share of attention. But such chap-
ters as *' The Christian Shrine," " The Altar of the
Home," and others included in the section under
Attica, are subjects of a national character. The
great interest awakened among students by Dr.
Dorpfeld's studies of the old Greek theatre should
make welcome a popular account in English of the
essential features of his theory concerning it.
While I have confined myself mainly to my gen-
eral theme, I have tried also to infuse something
of the spirit of Greek life and nationality into these
pages; but writing for the general reader rather
than for the specialist, I have had to omit a vast
number of facts and details upon which my state-
ments are based. For the same reason I have
sought to avoid the appearance of pedantry by
spelling in the most familiar way those proper
names which have slipped into English through the
Latin. I much prefer to transliterate Greek directly
into English, and in the case of modern Greek
words have generally done this. I should consider
it gross impiety to use a Latin name for a Greek
god.
PREFACE IX
To the keen, vigilant eyes and ripe scholarship of
Professor J. Irving Manatt of Brown University, who
has read the proof-sheets, made wise amendments,
and saved me from many errors, my special thanks
are due. Mr. Michael Anagnos of Boston, a Greek
" to the manner born," has cemented a friendship of
many years by his helpful interest in these pages.
Professor John Williams White of Harvard Univer-
sity has read the chapter on *' The Greek Theatre "
and offered valuable suggestions.
I am indebted to Professor Tarbell of Chicago
University for material in the study of Attic grave
reliefs, and return thanks to him and to Professor
J. R. Wheeler of Columbia College, his associate in
the conduct of the American Archaeological School
in Athens in 1892-93, for many courtesies. Professor
Francis Greenleaf Allinson of Brown University gen-
erously permits me to use his close and spirited trans-
lation of the *' Hymn to Apollo."
A few sketches which appeared originally in the
Christian Register and the New York Tribune have
been re-written for this volume.
In the early pages of the book I have taken a
lively interest in pilfering from the notebooks of
my daughter, and the reader cannot be sorrier than
I am that Mavilla did not accompany me in all
my journeyings. It is a poor girl who cannot write
better than her father. I have borrowed, too, with
not less gratitude, the eyes, the memory and the
literary taste of my wife.
X PREFACE
But where shall I stop in my acknowledgments?
How many people has it taken to make this book !
Dr. Dorpfeld will know how much, and at the same
time how little, I have been able to draw from his
delightful expositions. I cannot refrain from ex-
pressing my gratitude to Dr. Wolters, the second
secretary of the German Archaeological Institute ; to
Dr. Korte, now of Bonn ; to Mrs. Schliemann, Mr.
Alexander Rangabe, Dr. Kalopathakes and his family,
Miss Marion Muir and her pupils at Athens; to Mon-
sieur and Madame Parren ; and to all the rest who
kindly united in making my stay in Greece a pleasant
and abiding memory.
SAMUEL J. BARROWS.
Washington, D. C.
March i, i8g8.
CONTENTS
Pagb
I THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
The Old Greece and the New 3
II THE IONIAN ISLES
ViDo: A Greek Quarantine 13
Corfu. I 24
Corfu. II 32
Cephalonia: A Mountain Monastery .... 45
Far-seen Rocky Ithaca 56
Zante :
I The Work of the Earthshaker 70
II A Bit of Exegesis 82
III THE SHRINES OF ATTICA
The Acropolis of Athens:
I The Parthenon 89
II The Propylasa 106
III The Acropolis Museum 116
Attic Grave Reliefs 129
The Greek Theatre 138
Modern Athens 155
The Street and the Agora 162
The Altar of the Home 181
The Christian Shrine:
I From Paganism to Christianity 201
II The Modern Greek Church 214
xii CONTENTS
Page
Attic Days 223
I A Composite Day 224
II The Athenian Press 228
III An Athenian Schoolboy 233
IV My Frieze of Goats 238
V A Greek Bugle Call 241
VI A Theban Terra-Cotta 242
VII A Treasury of Bones 243
VIII An Athenian Tetradrachma 244
IX Some Greek Vases 247
X The Greek Calendar 248
XI Greek Philanthropy 249
Attic Wanderings 251
IV THE PELOPONNESUS
From Athens to Megalopolis 267
From Megalopolis to Olympia 282
V PHOCIS 295
Delphi 297
The Delphic Hymn to Apollo 303
The Monastery of St. Luke 307
VI THESSALY 315
Tempe and Meteora 317
VII ISLANDS OF THE ^GEAN
Eubcea :
I An International Funeral 335
II Eretria 342
The Cyclades 344
VIII TROY
I Marching on Troy 355
II The Modern Siege 357
INDEX 373
INDEX OF GREEK WORDS 390
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Theseion and the Acropolis .... Frontispiece
Cliffs of Corfu Facing page 24
The Ship of Stone " 38
Nike binding her Sandal " 112
The Mourning Athene " 123
Grave Relief. Athens " 129
Tomb of Hegeso. Athens '* 130
The Theatre at Epidaurus " 152
The Areopagus " 201
Byzantine Church at Tegea " 206
A Homeric Roast " 284
Delphi " 298
My Little Monk " 307
Ploughing in Thessaly " 317
The Vale of Tempe ** 322
A Mid-air Monastery " 326
Monastery of St. Barlaam. Ascent by Net
and Windlass " 330
Excavations at Troy " 360
Food Jars at Troy " 368
I
THE OLD GREECE AND THE NEW
iSf iroTaTToi \i0oi Koi noTanai oiKobofial.
Mark xiii.
ISfjpiTov lvo(ri(PvWou dpinpfnes ' dpcfil be vfjaoi
TloXXai vaierdovai pa\a axfbov dXKTjXrjai,
Aovkix^iov re Sa/ii; re Koi vXT]ar(Ta ZdKvvOoS'
Odyssey ix. 21
The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece !
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phcebus sprung.
Byron.
anjasjgy^/saftB^
THE
ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
THE OLD GREECE AND THE NEW
There is a Greece of yesterday and a Greece of
to-day, and every Philhellene believes that there will
be a Greece of to-morrow. A country that has
emerged from so many catastrophes of history can-
not be easily extinguished in life, language, literature,
art, or in political aspiration.
Each one of these aspects of Greece is interesting
to me, and I find it difficult to separate them except
for chronological or historic purposes.
One cannot set foot upon Greek soil without
feeling the thrill of centuries of history. He is
brought into the inspiring presence of some of the
most perfect triumphs of art, or sees the ruder strug-
gles of a more primitive age seeking to realize that
which was to come. His imagination is kindled by
embers of tradition which still glow in the life and
thought of the people. The climate, the scenery, the
mountains, rivers, plains, and valleys of Greece have
been reflected in its literature, and furnish a beautiful
background for its history. It is a small theatre for
human action ; but what a drama of war, art, politics,
4 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
religion, and civilization has been enacted within its
limits ! Battlefields, shrines, temples, theatres, in-
scriptions, statues, reliefs, vases, ornaments, and
household utensils some of them preserved on
the very site where they were first used or reared, or
stored within the walls of the greater museums are
the visible reminders to the traveller of a life and a
history which are imperishably embalmed in its me-
morials. And, if one leaves the surface and descends
into the tombs of Mycenee, which the spade of Schlie-
mann unsealed, he goes down into the deep, rich, and
curious strata upon which Greek civilization was built.
The traveller in Greece to-day cannot see all the tem-
ples or shrines which were seen by Pausanias and
Saint Paul, but he can see the memorials of a primi-
tive civilization which was lost to sight and mind,
even in their day, except as it was preserved in the
half-mythic, half-historic pictures of Homer.
Then there is a higher and later stratum of history,
written on the tombs, walls, porticos, and theatres of
the Roman occupation. Still later there is a stratum
little worked in our schools, but of much interest,
which reveals the traces of Venetian, Prankish, and
Byzantine supremacy ; and, finally, there is the long,
blood-stained highway of Turkish invasion and rule.
The Venetians may be known by what they built up ;
the Turks, like the Persians, by what they pulled
down. In the great earthquake at Zante, some of the
buildings which stood firm, though not unshaken,
were the massive monuments of Venetian architecture,
seen in the old castle and in private dwellings which
have survived the shocks of seven hundred years.
But, except here and there in the remains of some
THE OLD GREECE AND THE NEW 5
mosque, the Turkish epoch is mainly shown by bom-
bardment, neglect, and devastation.
The traveller in Greece sees the marks not only of
the surge of political forces, but of the march and
conflict of religious ideas. First, it is the magnificent
reign of the Greek gods, when the religious sen-
timent was beautifully and grandly incarnated in the
stone hewn from its mountain quarries. Then came
the triumph of the cross, and afterward the triumph
of the crescent. If the cross may accuse the cres-
cent, certainly the crescent can accuse the cross of
pillaging the temples and destroying the monuments
of the heathenism to which it succeeded.
But Greece is something more than a graveyard of
a dead religion or a dead nation. It reveals a life
which is interesting partly because it is the pro-
longation and reproduction of the life of the past,
and partly because it is a fresh, new life of our day.
Greece is one of the oldest and at the same time one
of the youngest of nations. It traces with pride its
long lineage back to Pericles, Solon, and their pro-
genitors ; but it thrills with more excitement as it
recounts the story of the Greek revolution the smoke
of whose battles has but just passed away. I have
heard children in the Athenian schools recite, not
without ancestral pride, the story of Marathon as a
task to be learned ; but I remember more vividly
a scene in a Greek prison school in which a boy
told a story from the history of the revolution with
such power that he was carried away by his own ear-
nestness, and the visitors, themselves native Greeks,
were kindled by his patriotism. The Greeks always
have been and still are an intensely patriotic people.
6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Ages of misfortune and oppression have not sufficed
to quench this sentiment, though there is the same
difficulty to-day that there used to be in giving it
united expression. It is but sixty-five years since
the new kingdom of Greece was formed after the de-
liverance from Turkish rule. In that time it has
made rapid progress in adapting itself to the condi^
tions of European civilization in the nineteenth cen-
tury. The process is still going on. If it is somewhat
melancholy to see the ruins of the older Greece, it is
extremely interesting to see the work of building the
new nation on the ruins of the old. Our own country
is an example of a nation whose development is pro-
ceeding with the greatest rapidity and on the grandest
scale. This is one reason, as Professor Palmer has so
well shown in his address on " The Glory of the Im-
perfect," why America is one of the most interesting
countries in the world to live in. The process of mak-
ing history is even more fascinating than the process
of reviewing it after it is made. For the same reason
I find it hard to be simply a student of archaeology
or history in Greece. Many go there whose interest
and occupation it is to study simply the monuments of
the past and who have little time for or little interest
in the present. They hardly care for anything that is
not older than the Christian era. Antiquity is at a
premium here, and it brings its price. On the other
hand, the Philistine finds his way to Greece also. He
has no time or taste for anything that is not still alive
and capable of making a bargain. A merchant resi-
dent in Greece, and born of English parents, told me
that he had been in Athens several times, but he had
never climbed to see the Parthenon.
THE OLD GREECE AND THE NEW 7
The real Panhellenist, like our own Professor Fel-
ton, is deeply and intensely interested in the old
Greece, but as keenly and sympathetically interested
in the new. It is nearly thirty years since I read
his fascinating Lowell lectures on "Ancient and Mod-
ern Greece." As I think of the interest of that
work as a fresh presentation of the old and a vivid
picture of the new, I find it to-day serving as a
sort of mile-stone to denote the immense progress
which archaeology has made in Greece since it was
written. At that time Schliemann had not put his
spade into the ground. The treasures of Troy,
Mycenae, Tiryns, and Olympia were still buried.
Eleusis, Megalopolis, Epidaurus, Argos, Delphi,
Rhamnus, and many of the islands were lying al-
most undisturbed as they had been for centuries.
The traveller walked over their sites scarcely know-
ing that below him were the remains of temples and
theatres and works of art which it only required
shovels and wheelbarrows and human muscle to re-
veal. The exquisite Hermes of Praxiteles and the
fourteen thousand bronzes of Olympia, a large part
of the rich collection of statues and grave reliefs at
the Central Museum of Athens, and nearly all the
collection at the Acropolis Museum, were not yet
unearthed. Indeed a whole library of books and re-
ports needs to be written to describe the monuments
and buildings, statues and treasures, which have been
found since Felton's day. Modern archaeological
science has been almost created in that time. This
is one reason why Greece has still such a fascination
for the enterprising archaeologist. He knows that he
is working in a field which is not exhausted. The
8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
spade is even mightier than the pen. The promise
allures him. He reads in his Pausanias the record of
whole forests of statues and temples. Who can tell
when he may make a discovery which will reveal
some masterpiece of art or settle some of the vexed
questions of history? Thus archaeological work has
an interest here which it cannot have in Paris or Ber-
lin. The student there works with material that is
already furnished him ; in Greece he has an opportu-
nity of unearthing it for himself. If the material is
old the science itself is new. There is something to
excite youthful ardor. It has the fascination and
perpetual promise that fishing affords to the de-
voted angler, only the fishing is done in the earth
instead of the sea. It is not surprising then that
many of the men working in the field in Greece have
no gray hair on their heads. Even Dorpfeld the
prince of modern archaeologists, at least in relation
to architecture, is little over forty years old ; and to
refute the presumption that an archaeologist must be
a dried-up, wizened specimen of humanity he easily
and modestly bears the honors of the handsomest
man in Athens.
But the interest of Greece is not all below ground
nor in the new and active life above it. There is an
atmospheric, a physical charm, in its climate and
scenery which attracts and rewards the traveller
though he may care little for its ruins or for
the new life about him. He may breathe the fresh,
soft air, rejoice in the glow of the sunlight which
shines for so many days with undimmed brilliancy,
and see in the face of Nature the same sweet smile
which beautified it three thousand years ago. In
THE OLD GREECE AND THE NEW 9
that time Nature has not been wholly asleep. For-
ests have disappeared, springs have run dry, rivers
have changed their courses, the sea has receded from
the shore, villages and cities have decayed and been
buried in earth and oblivion ; but still there is the
same grandeur of the mountain, the same fresh beauty
of the plain, the same peace or wrath of the sea, as
when the Homeric rhapsodist sang the glories of
Olympus or painted in hexameters the garden of
Alcinoiis. Byron gives a faithful transcript of the
scene when he says :
" And yet how lovely in thine age of woe,
Land of lost gods and godlike men, art th.ou !
Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow,
Proclaim thee Nature's varied favorite now.
Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild,
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled.
And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields.
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds.
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain air ;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds.
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare :
Art, glory, freedom, fail ; but Nature still is fair."
The organization of modern travel, the multiplica-
tion of railroad and steamship connections, the ap-
pearance on the field of a new convenience and a new
distress in the shape of a Cook or Gaze agent has
enabled the tourist "to do" Athens and the rest of
Greece in four or five days ; but Greece will not do
what she might for him unless he banishes the demon
of haste and basks for months in the smile of her
lovely countenance. An instantaneous view is better
lO THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
than nothing ; but there are fine shades of expression
and soft, dreamy revelations of beauty which can only
be taken by a time exposure.
The old Greece and the new. Rather let me say
the old Greece in the new, and the new Greece in the
old. This to me is the perpetual fascination of this
land. The past and the present cannot be wholly
unravelled. The old and the new are continually in-
termingling. Temples have fallen and monuments
are broken, but the ideals of beauty they embodied
still animate the modern world. The gods no lon-
ger sit on Olympus, but Olympus still lies under the
shadow of the Almighty. You stand on the Acro-
polis and reverently view the Parthenon ; and then
your eye turns to the ever old and ever new sea, or
lights on the fresh verdure of the grain that is grow-
ing in the valley, or watches the changing colors of
the sunset spreading over Hymettus. You turn to-
ward the Areopagus and think of the grand address
which Paul gave to the crowd from the market; but
down in the schools and streets below the children
are repeating words and phrases some of which are
eight centuries older than the speech of Paul, but are
still included in the same tongue. Scarcely a festi-
val passes that some old custom does not come to
light which embodies the memory of classic days.
The old Greece in the new ; the new Greece in the
old. In what I write I shall not try to separate them
wholly. It is the unity of the impression which
makes the reality of Greece as it is.
** Why do you go to Greece? " said some one to me.
It was a strange question. It nearly dumfounded me.
" Why does any one stay away ? "
II
THE IONIAN ISLES
VIDO: A GREEK QUARANTINE
How many travellers in Greece spend their first
night on Greek soil in a house of their own construc-
tion? Built, too, with an axe and a needle! Not
Mycenaean, Doric, Ionic, or Corinthian in style, but
historically Greek and essentially nomadic. If I gave
it its etymological name I should call it scenic archi-
tecture. That Greek word aKr^vrj has come down to
us through a series of theatrical transformations and
embodied itself in the word scene in our own language
with a great deal of its dramatic odor and character.
But in modern Greek it still retains, also, its primitive
meaning of tent, one example of a thousand other
moss-grown words which have come down from the
days of Homer.
We had crossed the broad ocean, spent some weeks
on the Continent, and made at Naples our final ar-
rangements for the invasion of Greece. Travellers
had told us that an indomitable will, a tough skin,
and an artistic spirit were all that were necessary.
As this outfit could not be procured in Naples, we
tried to get a few other things on which we might
rely. Our providence in this direction was greatly
stimulated by the predictions of a friend in Rome
that a Greek quarantine was something not to be
endured. Of our party of seven, four ladies, two
boys, and his modesty, myself, all but one had
camped out on the ** Beautiful Water" of Canada,
14 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
which the Greeks might insist on calHng BaXaaaa
/caXrjy but which the Indians, not knowing Greek, had
roughly called ** Memphremagog." It was not easy
in Naples to get all that might be needed for a
camper's outfit. " A hamper of provisions," says
Mavilla, *' containing plenty of figs, sweet chocolate,
and niarrojis glaccSy was the most important part of
our equipment. We had, moreover, a small kerosene
stove, a baby tomahawk, a roll of Roman silk blan-
kets and enough heavy drilling to make a large tent.
Our family had not camped out seventeen summers
without learning something of the art of making
much of little ; so when we added to our outfit a steel
knife and a spoon apiece we looked forward undis-
mayed to the Greek quarantine."
I was obliged to travel from Naples in a separate
compartment from my family and was thereby
relieved from following Paul's occupation as a tent-
maker; but what happened in the ladies' compart-
ment, and the subsequent experience at Brindisi,
Mavilla has faithfully recorded :
*' On many of our journeys it would have been
hard to confine ourselves to tent-making. Crossing
the St. Gotthard Pass it would have been wicked to
lose a minute of that magnificent scenery. Even the
pleasant monotony of Holland gives a continual en-
joyment to the eye ; but the journey from Naples to
Brindisi is well adapted to sewing, reading, or sleep-
ing. Brown fields stretch away to the brown foot-
hills. Glaring white farmhouses are scattered among
the brown vineyards. Occasional cornfields, dashed
with yellow pumpkins, soften the treeless landscape.
There are few signs of life except here and there a
THE IONIAN ISLES 1 5
farmer ploughing with his white oxen, or a peasant
riding across the country on his Httle brown donkey.
One misses the richness and briUiancy of the usual
Italian landscape, and wonders at the dulness of life
in the heel of Italy. When we reached Taranto, our
20 X 30 tent was finished.
*' An obsequious Httle English agent met us at the
dingy station at Brindisi and guided us through the
darkness to the waiting carriages. Our amazement
knew no bounds when we saw ourselves surrounded
by crowds of men with lanterns, banners, and torches,
shouting and singing to the accompaniment of drums
and a brass band ! They at once made room for our
open vehicles to lead the procession while they
walked beside us and fell in behind. On all sides
was the greatest enthusiasm and excitement, cries of
" Viva Monticelli ! " " Viva le donne ! " Puzzled as
we were, we could not help laughing, even in the
pecuHar situation of being the only women in the
streets. The revellers saw that we were disposed to
be good-natured, so they increased their merriment,
brandished their torches, and waved their flags over
our heads. At last we learned that there had been
an election and Brindisi was celebrating the victory of
the favorite candidate. The unusual advent of stran-
gers was an opportunity not to be wasted, so we were
escorted to the quay in triumph."
The steamer left at two in the morning, but we were
safely and comfortably settled the night before.
The trip from Italy to Corfu, the first of the Greek
isles, is a delightful one, when favored as we were
with a calm sea and a clear sky. By early morning
we find the bare and rugged outlines of the Albanian
1 6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
mountains rising on the left, at first with a dimpled
sky line, then growing more rugged and varied.
They are for us the first sight of a country over
which Turkish rule is extended. The hills are brown,
gray and barren. Off to the right are islands of hazy
blue. About ten o'clock Corfu comes in sight,
first a long tongue of land lapping the sea, from
which rise stalwart mountains, wrapped in blue. This
island, with its mountains, has been the scene of many
a conflict, mythical or historic; but now it lies en-
swathed in perfect calm, as if it might really be the
fabled land of Alcinoiis. As we near it, the hills
describe more graceful curves and reveal their fresh
verdure. At first there is Httle indication of human
life ; and it is hard to believe that this lovely island
was known to the ancients for centuries before the
existence of another continent was dreamed of, and
that it has been the theatre of Homeric myths,
the struggles of Greek against Greek, or of foreign
rivalry and rule. Then come signs of the fertility
which distinguishes the island. Olive groves spread
over the hills. A white house stands like an outpost
on a point overlooking a charming bay. The blue
sea is like a smooth lake. The hills are green, black,
brown and gray. Vessels are lying sleepily along
the shore, taking siestas of oriental languor.
But we may not touch those sacred shores till
the days of our purification are accomplished. Of
more immediate interest to us than the harbor of
Corfu, which lies before us under its protecting hills,
is the question, "Where is our quarantine to be
passed? " Just to the east of Corfu lies the island of
Vido. We slowly round its southern end, raise
THE IONIAN ISLES 1 7
our flag, and come to anchor in the harbor. Rows
of one-story brick buildings are seen on the shore.
There is something ominous in their yellow color,
but they cannot wholly tinge the cheerful complexion
of the quiet, sun-bathed island.
Now the health officer has mounted the ladder and
taken a census of the passengers, so many first
class, so many second class, so many steerage. Then
we are told that only about ten more can be accom-
modated on the island. The larger number must
spend two days of the quarantine on the steamer till
there is more room. The steamer was not bad, but
the island seemed better. It was then that the tent
which the ladies had made turned the scale in our
favor.
" May we put up a tent and camp by ourselves? "
" Certainly," said the health officer.
The director was sitting in a boat below.
** Is your tent all ready? " he shouted.
"Not quite," I answered. I saw that there were
almost no trees on the island. There were some
good spars on the steamer, but they could not be
purchased for tent-poles. A tent without poles or
ropes would be a heap of shapeless cloth duck
without bones.
"What do you require? " shouted the director.
" About thirty yards of rope."
"How large?"
" The size of your tiller ropes."
"Anything else?"
" A pair of long oars for our tent-poles."
The director and his boat left for Corfu ; and, be-
fore we had disembarked from the steamer, the rope
1 8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
and the oars were in the boat alongside which was
to take us ashore, I had heard that Greeks could
be slow. I did not dream that they could be so
prompt. Wing-sandalled Hermes could not have
done better.
In a few minutes we had landed with our bag-
gage. Then came the most amusing part of our
experience. There were already on the island two
or three groups of passengers from other vessels.
None of these were allowed to mingle with any ex-
cept those of their own group. The officers and pur-
veyors stood likewise aloof, and talked to passengers
at a distance of six feet, over which it is assumed
that a cholera germ cannot travel during a short
conversation. The first process was to secure the
names, ages, and nativity of the new arrivals. The
agent stood at a safe distance and asked questions
and noted the answers. If a passenger ventured to
move towards him, he beat a hasty retreat. Even
the mildest and most interesting young lady, as fair
as the princess who used to live at Corfu, became an
object of terror. The agent, who spoke little Eng-
lish, but talked in Greek, French, and Italian, dis-
trusted his ability to write the names of our party.
He cautiously put his pencil and paper on the
ground and retired several feet. I advanced, and
took it up, and wrote the necessary information.
Then I laid it on the ground, with the pencil, and
retired. The officer returned boldly, picked it up
and likewise retired, but not before I had levelled
and snapped my kodak amid the laughter of the on-
lookers. Is photography under such circumstances
contagious?
THE IONIAN ISLES I9
Rooms were then allotted to passengers, and a
guard, acting also as a servant, was assigned to each
group.
We hastened in the waning afternoon to put up
our tent. A large haystack stood in the middle of a
field not far from the quarantine building. This
would furnish a good backing and a protection from
the wind. We had but two oars for tent-poles ; one
of these could serve as a ridgepole. We drove the
blade into the hay at the proper height, set the other
oar perpendicularly on the ground and lashed it to
the ridgepole. Not far away was a small fig-tree
which lanni, our guard and guide, cut down and used
as an additional prop for the ridgepole. Across this
frame we hung our tent.
We had no tent-pins, but the English government
had spent five million dollars in furnishing us substi-
tutes. For fifty years, Corfu and the Ionian Isles
were under the protectorate of Great Britain. During
this period, that government erected vast and expen-
sive fortifications commanding the harbor of Corfu.
When the islands were relinquished to Greece in
1863, these fortifications were dismantled and blown
to pieces. We guyed our tent to some of the mass
of fragments and used smaller ones in place of tent-
pins to hold down our canvas. Meanwhile deft fin-
gers had sewed and hung Turkey-red curtains, giving
an oriental brilliancy to the interior and dividing it
into compartments.
A home-made Yankee tent and a manufactured
English ruin for our first night in Greece !
Our Greek and Italian fellow passengers were in-
clined to commiserate us for having only the shelter
20 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of canvas ; but, when we assured them that we had
had seventeen summers' experience in tent life (at
least some of us), and that Canadian Augusts were
often as cold as this Greek November, their fears
were quieted.
If the ruin was modern and made to order, it
served very well as an introduction to some that were
to follow. Later, we had abundant opportunities to
see what the tooth of time and shattering earthquakes
could do in furnishing melancholy classical ruins ; but
these enormous masses of stone, in jagged angular
confusion, with the mouths of cannon yawning from
out the chaos, were a striking witness of what gun-
powder could do in tearing to pieces a work built to
resist it. There is but one point of terrible affinity
between this rugged mass of ruins and the fairest
gem of Greek architecture : it was gunpowder in the
shape of a wicked bomb from Morosini's battery
which wrecked the Parthenon.
The departure of the first company of passen-
gers enabled us to secure a room as precaution
against storm. Our tent was made more luxurious
by the addition of iron bedsteads. We cooked our
own light breakfast. Luncheon and dinner we ate at
the tables furnished for first-class passengers by the
proprietor of the St George Hotel at Corfu. lanni,
our squire, followed us about with vigilant and help-
ful fidelity ; he was always at beck and call. A little
donkey, with two water-casks slung over his back,
brought water from a well a third of a mile away to
fill water jars, which suggested Homeric times. The
ruins of the English fortress challenged us to climb
and scramble. The island, half a mile wide and
THE IONIAN ISLES 21
three-quarters of a mile long, furnished a good prom-
enade. The beautiful scenery of Corfu was spread
before us. We bathed in the clear warm water, wrote
letters, read, chatted, and listened to the Babel of
languages at dinner ; Greek, Italian, French, German,
and English were all spoken by the twenty people at
our dinner-table. A Babel without the tower ! The
Italian steerage passengers in another part of the
island poured forth an endless stream of words.
The Florentine or Roman ItaHan is musical enough,
but the Venetian or Neapolitan, when uttered rapidly,
sounds like a succession of firecrackers or torpedoes.
The vowels explode like a Gatling gun and the con-
sonants go off in smoke.
The United States Consular Agent, Mr. Stretch,
was kindness itself He executed commissions for
us in Corfu, and twice crossed to the island to see us.
We were allowed to talk to him across a ten-foot
space, separated by fences.
It is but just to recognize the unfailing courtesy of
the Greek medical director and of all who had to
administer the duties of his department. We had
prepared ourselves for a quarantine which might be
a purgatory; but this proved to be a haven of
rest. It needs the youthful enthusiasm of Mavilla to
describe it:
" Life at the Vido was a happy dream. We learned
then, if never before, the true meaning of dolce far
7iiente. Although the end of November it was what
we should call June weather with nothing but sun-
shine and starshine during our stay.
** I cannot pass quickly over this our charming im-
prisonment, for, though it lasted but a few days, it
22 THE ISLES AND SHRTNES OF GREECE
seems as if we were there for weeks. Without it our
Greece would not be one half so dear to us as it
is. There in the sunshine amid the flowers we lay-
on the grass and wove wreaths of superb crimson
gowans while some one read aloud. We dutifully
read to the end, but the circle of listeners grew con-
stantly smaller as we strolled away to the other side
of the island or wandered over the ruins of the old
fort. Would you not like to stray among blooming
crocuses in November, gathering handfuls of cycla-
men and Jack-in-the-pulpits? We plucked them fresh
a dozen times a day and then marvelled that they
grew no less.
*' A thousand happy memories will always cling to
Vido : the delightful sea-bathing at full noon ; the
hot afternoons that we spent on the bluff, listening
to the military music floating across the water from
the fortress; the cool evenings when the wandering
musicians from Corfu serenaded us with mandolin
and guitar, while the Zingara flirted, the tenor sang
and we danced on the bluff.
" On the last day we gave an afternoon tea. We
received on the veranda of our little cottage, as the
tent had already been taken down. Our guests were
three Greek gentlemen and the United States Consular
Agent from Corfu. As a government official, the lat-
ter was allowed to land on the island, but he could
only come as far as the boundary railing. We stood
behind another bar, ten feet away, and balanced his
refreshments on the end of a long rail. The rest of
us drank our tea from little blue-spotted bowls which
the Consul had sent us from Corfu. A little Dutch
plate of great antiquity, that we had brought from
THE IONIAN ISLES 23
Marken, held our biscuit. Since we had no other
dishes, box-covers served for bon-bon trays. Surely
never was a more Arcadian afternoon. The devoted
lanni had gathered flowers for the occasion and had
made everything ready for our departure. We felt
dismal enough at having to change our camp dresses
for our travelling clothes, and gloves and hats seemed
equally odious; but at Vido one could not be un-
happy long about anything, and even at parting one
must, smile. So I waited till the others had gone
down to the shore; then, pulling a last bunch of
cyclamen and daisies, I ran to the boats."
CORFU
I
Twenty-five years ago I had the sharp zest of the
explorer. It whets one's curiosity to a feather-edge
to enter a country which, so far as modern civiHzation
is concerned, is devoid of a past; where there are
no works of man except the few traces of nomadic
Indian occupancy and the only history revealed is
that written by the great forces of Nature. Thus
it was very interesting to enter the Black Hills with
Custer in 1874; to penetrate a country unmapped
and unnamed ; to see washed out the first thimble-
ful of gold ; to plant the standard of nationality and
civiHzation on a lofty height and listen to strains
of patriotic music resounding for the first time
through those silent hills. We were the harbingers
of a new civilization. The practical question to the
enthusiastic miner was, " Where shall I stake my
claim?"
There is another zest, more delicate but not less
keen. It is the zest of the mythologist, the archaeol-
ogist, the philologist and the student of letters whose
interest in a country is heightened by its long
past, the mellowed accretions of myth, tradition and
language, its rich treasures of art and the resplendent
glow of imaginative literature which invests it like a
halo. That is the difference between the Black Hills
'^' f-y
ISLES 25
and Greece. Greece was an illuminated palimpsest,
the Black Hills a blank page.
There are two ways of entering Greece. You may-
sail directly to the Piraeus, the port of Athens, and
come at once under the spell of Propylaea and Par-
thenon. That is to enter by the front door. Or
you may land at Corfu, and go from one to another
of the Ionian Islands. That is to go through the
back lane of Homeric tradition. When I went to
Greece, I determined, if possible, to enter by the
portal of the Odyssey, and to leave by the portal
of the Iliad. If I had lived in the Orient, I should
have reversed the programme; but, living in the
Occident, it was easier to read the second story first.
The centre of the Odyssey is Ithaca; the centre of
the Iliad is Troy. In going from one to the other,
my trip included nearly all the most important isles
and shrines of Greece.
Hardly less important than Ithaca in the Odyssey,
and more fascinating in charm of incident and beauty
of description, is the land of the Phaeacians, the an-
cient Scheria. The island and its inhabitants are
invested with a certain mythical and superhuman
character, and the poet gives full rein to his imagina-
tion in describing its marvellous fertility and beauty.
It is the island which tradition, rightly or wrongly,
has identified with the modern Corfu. As we entered
the harbor it seemed as if we were sailing into mythic
waters. But the captain sails by a modern chart.
Of the seven Ionian Islands, Corfu, called by the
Greeks Kerkyra, is the largest and the most impor-
tant. It holds, too, the palm for beauty and fertility.
It has an area of 422 square miles and a population
26 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of 25,000 souls. Its veritable history can be traced
back to the settlement of a Corinthian colony there,
734 B. C. As in our own history, the colony soon
quarrelled with the mother country. In 655 B. C,
the Corcyraeans, as they were called, beat the Corin-
thians in a naval battle. The island took the part of
Athens in the Peloponnesian War. Later it passed
into the hands of the Romans. When the Crusaders
insanely dismembered the Byzantine Empire, this
island jewel dropped easily into the hands of Venice,
and though the Neapolitan kings secured it for a
hundred years, and the Turks besieged it twice, the
Venetians ruled it until the beginning of this cen-
tury. Their occupation and that of the Neapolitans
covered a period of six centuries. The French
secured possession for seven years, from 1807 to
1 8 14. For forty-eight years thereafter, until 1863, it
formed one of the seven Ionian Islands grouped into a
State under the protection of Great Britain. In 1863,
when King George was called to the throne of Greece,
the desire for political union v/ith that country was so
strong, as expressed by a vote of their people, that
England gave up her protectorate, and the Ionian
Islands thenceforth became a part of the kingdon:
of Greece.
Here, in brief outHne, are the epochs in the history
of Corfu. The charm of the island lies in its phys-
ical beauty, its halo of tradition and the picturesque
and archaic features of its modern life.
If one wished to settle down into the simple luxu-
ries of physical existence, I know not where he could
find them more perfectly combined than on this
island. No fickleness of nature has marked its
THE IONIAN ISLES 2/
changing fortunes. The same clear sky, balmy air,
refulgent sun and glorious prospects abide here as
in the days of Homer. The fertility of the soil is
remarkable. In the sense in which we speak of it in
the latitude of Boston, there is no such thing as win-
ter in Corfu. The snow falls on the Albanian moun-
tains, or on the head of Monte San Salvatore, 3,CX)0
feet high, but never whitens the streets of Corfu.
Flowers bloom all the year round. The fields in
November are gay with English daisies and cyclamen
and heather, and we pick crocuses, snowdrops and
chrysanthemums. Great walls of cactus and hedges
of aloes run along the roadsides. There are vast
groves of olives, some of them of great age. The
five hundred years claimed for them may not be
theirs ; but it is easy to believe that they have out-
lived centuries. It is estimated that there are four
million olive-trees on the island ; and nowhere else
have I seen such beautiful growths of this historic
tree. There are fine groves of oranges, lemons
and figs, and the vineyards of Corfu send wine
to France, Italy and elsewhere. Bananas, palms,
magnolias and the eucalyptus flourish in the gar-
dens. Few places are more kindly favored oy
nature with a generous soil, a genial and lovely
prospect.
To one who has been reared in the popular or
academic fiction that Greek is a dead language, it
is curiously exhilarating to land in Corfu and find
it really alive. It refuses to be bound in the cere-
ments of the academic pronunciation, to be immured
in grammars or text-books ; it is as wing-worded as
when it escaped the barriers of Homeric teeth. It is
28 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
not too fine for common use. It is the language of
bootblacks and hack-drivers, as well as of poets and
historians ; its vocabulary is conspicuously displayed
in shop signs, bills of fare, public notices and the
names of streets. If he has any of his old college
Greek in his brain, now is the time for the traveller
to get it out and burnish it up. Still more fortunate
is he if he has taken time by the forelock and pre-
pared for this trip by acquiring some knowledge of
modern Greek, which is best described by Geldart as
*' old Greek made easy." It is nonsense to treat
Greek as if it were a dead language. It is living in
the speech, journalism and literature of the Greeks
of to-day, just as Chaucer is living in the speech,
journalism and literature of the English people.
The letters, the accents, are the same. The old
Greek has changed its form in modern usage. It is
simpler, less accurate, less rich in moods and inflec-
tions ; but it is, historically, essentially the same lan-
guage. One may open his Homer and pick out on
every page words that are in common usage to day,
after three thousand years of currency. The univer-
sal daily greeting ^aipert is Homeric. The resem-
blance to the New Testament Greek is remarkable.
The Greek Church has done much to preserve the
vitality of the language, for the New Testament is
used in all the services in the old Greek, and children
say the Lord's Prayer by heart just as it stands in
Matthew.
" Never before," said Mavilla, *' had Greek ' sight
translation ' been half so interesting, or practical, as
when we lingered along the narrow, crooked streets
of the little town, trying to discover which was a
THE IONIAN ISLES 29
baker's shop and which a barber's. The fruit and
candy stalls we had no difficulty in recognizing."
The streets are narrow, the esplanade broad and
partly shaded with trees. The ruins, with two or
three exceptions, are not Greek, but Venetian. They
consist mainly of the old Venetian forts, one of which,
Fortezza Vecchia, is still used as a military post by
the Greeks. But for the visitor the main interest is
the magnificent view of harbor, town and island.
Traditions grow as luxuriantly in Corfu as olives,
figs and lemons. Some of them have a very inti-
mate relation to the life and religion of the people.
There is an Homeric tradition and a Christian tradi-
tion. The Homeric tradition is worked into the
guide-books and comes down as a literary heritage.
But the Christian tradition is woven into ritual, cere-
mony and procession in the Greek Church, and is still
used to praise God and shame the devil. We had
come to find the Homeric trail, but we could not
lapse into luxuriant paganism until we had paid our
respects to the lifeless and desiccated remains of Saint
Spiridion. All Saints Day (in the Greek, not the
Roman calendar), which was observed the day after
we landed, was a civil, military and religious festival,
all the town, the country-side, the garrison, the
two brass bands, and the countless church officials
joining in one interminable procession in honor of
the patron saint of the island, Saint Spiridion. One
of the semi-official lives of the saint states that he
was born in Cyprus about 318 A. D. From a hum-
ble shepherd he became an archbishop, and many
stories are told of the miracles he wrought. He died
in 350 and his body was taken to Constantinople in
30 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
700, where it remained until 1453, when it was re-
moved to Corfu. Instead of being burnt or buried,
it is sacredly preserved in a silver coffin decorated
with gold and jewels. Three times a year the body
is taken out of the church and carried about the
city in a palanquin with a glass case. This fes-
tival, like those of Easter and other holy days in
Greece, is national and patriotic as well as religious.
It brings out the whole populace of every grade and
order, and the military solemnities are almost as con-
spicuous as the sacerdotal.
We joined the waiting crowd at the door of Saint
Spiridion's Church, standing on tiptoe to hear mass.
The women were in full holiday dress, their breasts
covered with masses of golden icons and heavy gold
chains. Their soft, white veils were spotless, and
their velvet bodices and silk aprons were of the gay-
est colors. As the chimes pealed for eleven o'clock,
the procession started from the church. In the van
were a number of small children dressed in sailor
costume. The civil authorities and dignitaries were
preceded by banner-bearers. Acolytes bore huge
waxen columns, candles if you please, as long and
as stout as a lamp-post. Then came priests and bish-
ops in richest garments of gorgeous colors. The arch-
bishop walked close to the body of his ancient and
distinguished forerunner; then, in great state, came
Saint Spiridion himself, in his sacred palanquin, borne
by four men, the body upright, with head, trunk, and
hands exposed to view.
*' Poor old thing," said Mavilla, " fifteen hundred
years a withered mummy, and still jolted about the
city three times a year ! "
THE IONIAN ISLES 3 1
The multitude fell in behind the troops of soldiers,
and, with their candles in their hands, marched the
whole morning. When the procession reached the
square, the palanquin was placed on the ground and
prayers were offered, thanking the saint for delivering
the island from an ancient plague. The benediction
was pronounced in a forcible way by a battery of
artillery.
To some this service was apparently little more
than a national festival ; to the superstitious peasants
it was full of solemn awe, the veneration with which
they regard the old saint amounts to that bestowed
by their ancestors on the lesser divinities, to others
it furnished material for piety and gratitude. One
old man who stood near me in the square was deeply
moved and the tears rolled down his cheeks. I
wondered in just what way the service touched his
heart. But there was nothing Pharisaical in his tears,
though they fell on a street corner.
CORFU
II
But we had not come to Corfu to pay our respects
to Saint Spiridion. Where were Nausicaa and the
gardens of Alcinoiis, and the ship of the Pha^acians
which the gods had turned to stone? Where was
the ball which the princess had thrown into the
river ?
The Phaeacian episode is one of the most charming
in the Odyssey; it is one of the most ingenious
devices ever constructed for bridging a narrative.
Homer and here let me say that when I speak of
Homer, I mean the man, the men, or succession of
men who wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey ; he may
have been blind, though I cannot think he was born
so ; he may have been born in seven different cities
or more ; he may have been a succession of rhapso-
dists whose narrative deliquesced into song. I am
not given to dropping into controversy by discussing
the Homeric question ; I simply inform the disputants
that I recognize their claims and contentions, and
** have filed them for future consideration." But I
hope they will generously permit me to say " Homer"
without accusing me of illiterate partisanship or blank
idiocy Homer, I was about to say, had adroitly
brought his hero Odysseus into a most embarrassing
predicament, a state of absolute nakedness and desti-
tution in a strange land. He had been for many
THE IONIAN ISLES 33
years on the fabled isle of Calypso. Through the
intervention of the gods, she had granted him release
and furnished him with timber and tools ; he had made
a raft, or boat, and launched forth on the deep for
Ithaca. But the ocean god was not going to let him
off so easily. In a tremendous storm the raft went to
pieces, and if a submarine goddess had not given
him a life-preserver he would have perished. He
nears the shores of a strange isle. He is in danger
of being dashed to pieces on its rocky cliffs ; the skin
is torn from his hands. At last he finds the mouth of
a river, swims up, lands on the bank, heaps together
a pile of leaves as a protection against rheumatism,
and, half dead from exhaustion, sinks into a profound
slumber.
Now, how is Homer to get him out of this naked
pauperism and introduce him once more into organ-
ized and reputable society? Of course he had the
whole pantheon of gods at his disposal and could
use the deus ex machina whenever he wished. Noth-
ing could have been easier than to ask Athene to
come down, wake up the hero and give him a new
suit of clothes. She does supply him from her
wardrobe on one occasion. But as a general thing
Homer does not care to drag in the gods by the
ears. He is more fond of using them to give impulse
and direction to human action. What, then, is the
ingenious device he uses to wake up and clothe his
hero ? The laughing music, the playful scream of a
girl's voice.
Nausicaa, a beautiful Diana-like princess, upon
whose charms Homer loves to dilate, is sleeping in
her chamber in the palace of King Alcinoiis^ her
3
34 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
father. The goddess Athene comes to her, not even
here, however, with direct address, but in the form of
one of her handmaids, who chides her for sleeping
when she ought to be up and having a care for her
household. She reminds her of the washing that
must be done for her father that he may appear
respectably among his counsellors, and for the bach-
elor brothers who are fond of going to the dance.
She hints, too, about a day of marriage for the girl
herself The Puritan conscience of the maid is
aroused. She gets up and goes to her father the
king, and says, " Dear papa, may the servants yoke
the mules to the wagon, the good one with the
high back, that I may go with the washing for
you and my brothers " (no hint about the day of her
marriage, but the old man understands it). He gives
her his best high-top wain. The mules are har-
nessed, and the queen puts up a nice luncheon. The
princess takes the reins and, accompanied by her
maids, drives with the clothes to the washing pools.
When they get there the princess does not tie her
mules to a tree all harnessed and with the check-rein
up, as a city-bred girl might do; she considerately
unharnesses them and lets them feed on the succulent
grass. She and the maids go to the pools and wash
the clothes with laughing rivalry. Then, while the
clothes dry, comes the lunch, and after that a game
of ball, the maids singing as they play. At last the
royal pitcher makes a bad curve or a wild throw;
the fielders miss it, and the ball falls into the river.
What happens, what must happen? What would a
bevy of girls do under similar circumstances in any
and every age? There is a loud, laughing scream
THE IONIAN ISLES 35
of comic despair as the ball splashes in the river !
It is this scream which wakes the sleeping hero.
Odysseus behaves with great propriety. Behind
the shelter of a thick branch he appeals to the
princess for protection. Her maids are frightened
enough ; but she maintains her stately self-possession.
She neither runs from the salty bushwhacker nor
does she refer him to the Charity Organization Soci-
ety. She calms her frightened maids, tosses some
clothes to the suppliant, and, after she has harnessed
her mules to the high-wheeled wain, she leads the
way to her father's home, using the whip on the
mules " with discretion " (Homer was anxious to
show that there was one woman who did know how
to whip a mule). She only asks of the hero that
when she gets to the town he will keep a good way
behind the team, not to attract the attention of the
idle gossips as they pass the loungers in the agora.
Thus she leads him to her father's palace with its
exquisite gardens, concerning whose beauty and fruit-
fulness Homer waxes eloquent.
Messrs. Scott, Dumas, Van Lennep, Spielhagen,
and all the rest of you, could you devise anything
more ingenious, more natural, or more artlessly beau-
tiful, to get your hero out of difficulty, and to lead
him to the palace of a king, where he shall be received
with abundant hospitality, and where his sojourn shall
furnish a pretext for telling the whole history of his
previous adventures, of which the reader was igno-
rant? In the Odyssey, Homer begins in the middle,
and it is not until you are through a fourth of the
volume that you get the first part of the story. How
charmingly the episode is fitted together ! The reader
36 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
has no suspicion at the beginning that this little pleas-
antry about the lusty bachelors going to the dance,
or the reference to the king's need of clean linen, has
anything to do with Odysseus, but later he perceives
that had there been no men's clothes to wash, Odys-
seus would have been left in a ridiculous plight.
Then that game of ball is so spontaneous, with the
wild throw and the bad fielding, which any college
boy will condone in a club of girls, leading to
that explosive scream; it is all so artless and so
modern that it might have happened yesterday. If
you do not think so, read it over in the charming
translation of Professor Palmer in Book VI. of the
Odyssey.
It was this Nausicaa and her beautiful maids, so
much more interesting than the wizened body of
Saint Spiridion, it was this fabled garden of Alcinous
that I was seeking to find. I was half confident that
if I could only put a spade somewhere near the
shore where Odysseus landed I might, perhaps, find
buried in the sand the ball which the princess had
thrown. What a magnificent trophy that would be !
I should be made an honorary member of every col-
lege ball team in the country.
The garden of Alcinous, teeming with luscious fruit,
is not difficult to find. The garden of the present
king might rival it in fruitfulness. And is there not a
street named after Alcinous, and is it not the site of
the famous palace on a hill overlooking the sea? We
rode thither from the city, winding past King George's
beautiful garden, into which we looked from our open
carriage. At the roadside were groups of dark-eyed
children with bunches of flowers and clusters of
THE IONIAN ISLES 37
oranges which they plucked from the walls. They
flung their spoils into the carriages, and we tossed a
few coins into the dusty road.
"Not a gleam of the bronze doors of Alcinoiis,"
says Mavilla, '' shone through the trees on the hill-
top, but Imagination restored all in more than the
original splendor. Although we fancied we could
hear girlish laughter ringing through the olive grove,
and I caught a glimpse of white arms in the surf on
the beach below, yet we did not find Nausicaa.
Nevertheless, the walk to the crest well repaid us,
for there we had the whole world at our feet, a
sunny, flowery little world amid seas. There were
garden valleys, little villages straggling up the
wooded slopes, and bold hills dropping abruptly
into the sea."
We drove along through the centre of the penin-
sula to the one-gun battery, the lake of Kalikiopoulo
on our right, the sea beyond the hills to the left.
The view from the gun battery at the extreme point
of the peninsula is charming. If Homer tells the
truth, the ship of the Phaeacians who were kind
enough to take Odysseus to Ithaca, was turned into
stone by angry Poseidon when they came back. And
if tradition tells the truth, the little island before us
was originally the old ship. But elsewhere there is
another island claimant for this honor, and I admit
that I am not enough of a naval architect to decide
between them. The question occurs, also, whether
the mouth of this bay was the place where Odysseus
landed. If so, where were the rocky cliffs against
which he was in danger of being dashed ? Mr. Still-
man, in his charming book *' On the Track of Odys-
33 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
seus," has discussed the question in detail, and has
found elsewhere the rocky cliffs. But a work so highly
mythical and imaginative as the Odyssey, though so
true to life and nature, cannot be reduced to exact
bounds of topography or geography. It is not Hkely
that any island, starting as the basis of a tradition or
story, would preserve its configuration wholly after
floating in the warm imagination of the rhapsodists.
Instead of making the story conform to the topog-
raphy, the topography would be made to conform to
the story. More accuracy is demanded of the modern
historical novelist, but how easy to find slips and an-
achronisms in description ! In his '' Chevalier de la
Maison Rouge," Dumas has given a description of the
Conciergerie at Paris. As I tried not long since to fit
the story to the prison, my guide shrugged his shoul-
ders and said, " When Dumas did not find what he
wanted he made it." I suspect Homer did the same.
The literary traveller on the trail of Homer must not
harden into an archaeological hteralist. He must keep
his own imagination fluent and sympathetic or he will
miss that of the poet. Later on, at Tiryns, Mycenae,
and at Troy, it will be well worth while to remember
how much of fact and history have been brought to
light from taking the truth of the Homeric narrative
for granted. But for the Island of Scheria we cannot
solidify the fluent, misty, auroral tradition. All that
is needed is to find an island which might furnish in
fertility, beauty, clime, and general topography the
conditions necessary for the Phaeacian episode, and
tradition was evidently satisfied that Corfu fulfilled
them.
I was not willing to leave Corfu without an effort to
^^^^^H^*i
1
t
J
1 ^
'\^*i
;: m-
THE IONIAN ISLES 39
see Nausicaa. I had no desire to see her mummified in
a coffin like Saint Spiridion. I wanted her with some
life in her eye and grace in her limbs. Is it unreas-
onable to ask a girl to keep her youth for twenty-five
or thirty centuries? If the fountain of perpetual
youth is to be found anywhere, is it not in this land
of fruit and flowers?
We applied at the old residence, but the princess
had moved. The garden was blooming, but where
was the maid ? I felt confident that we must go to
some of the wash pools to find her. Gastouri, a
suburb of the town, is renowned for the beauty of its
women, why not there ? Mavilla declares that *' the
drives on the island of Corfu are beyond the power
of pen or camera," which may be a gentle hint to me
that / must not attempt to describe them. '* Even
the warmth of the painter's brush is unsatisfactory.
The sweetness of the air, the delicious heat of the
November sun, and the fascination of being there are
inseparable." Nevertheless, Mavilla would have been
sorry enough if I had not taken my camera. Per-
haps the hint, after all, is that I had better quote from
her diary instead of trying to improve on it:
"We saw but few people as we drove toward the
Empress of Austria's summer palace. One or two
little whitewashed cottages basked in sunny gardens.
Under the trees by the roadside were shepherds with
their flocks, idle and peaceful, as if Hfe contained
neither care nor worry. In front of a group of tiny
cottages sat three old women, spinning in the sun-
shine. I was sure that they were the sister Fates,
and so looked anxiously for the shears. Evidently
40 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
they had no thought of cutting off our pleasure, for
they responded cordially to our salutations.
** Near the palace is a little hamlet, where children
were playing in the road. We refused their entreaties
to take us through the grounds, and asked only for a
cosey spot for picnicking. As guide, we chose a dear
little lame fellow with a heavenly face. We left the
carriages in the shade, and scrambled up a steep hill
after the crippled laddie, who hobbled over the rocks
with his one bare foot and crutch faster than we could
with our walking boots.
** Our luncheon tasted like nectar and ambrosia,
served on the slopes of Olympus. For the time
being, the American sovereigns decided to become
immortal gods.
" On the pinnacle of the hill above us, suggesting
some of Diirer's impossible mountain shrines, was a
tiny chapel. To us, who like to have our churches
convenient, of easy access to the electric cars, the
situation of this chapel was striking. Even on that
beautiful day, the wind from the sea was so strong
that it was hard to keep our footing as we toiled up
the winding trail over the rocks. Once there, we lay
in the lea of the Httle stone building, and picked
crocuses while we got our breath. Faded wreaths
hung over the church door, but the windows were
nailed up, and the rough little edifice could not be
entered. Even the bell-rope in the tiny campanile
was decayed. For many years a priest had lived in
a cell built against the end of the chapel, but he had
died, our little guide told us, and this hilltop shrine is
now used only on special occasions. But we had
come to see the shrines, and this was one of them.
THE IONIAN ISLES 4I
" Whether Gastouri ran down to the valley or strug-
gled up the hill, it matters not, for now it is just half
way. Our angel-faced guide swung himself out of
the carriage in front of a rose-wreathed cottage, and
smilingly said,
" * This is my home ; down there is Gastouri.*
" We went down afoot, for the cobble-paved alleys
were so steep that even mules are of little use in
Gastouri. Each house looks down on the roof of the
one below; so the doings of every household are
carefully supervised. The highest building was a
real country store, with the usual post-office, tobacco,
candy, and loungers. A few of the houses had court-
yards, where women sat combing one another's hair,
and wreathing it about their heads, while the children
and the cats played around. Where the houses
opened directly on the alley, the women were spin-
ning in the open doorway. They all had a pleasant
word for us, especially if we noticed their children
the dear roly-poly little things ! At Gastouri more
than elsewhere in Corfu one sees the traces of Italian
blood, and the mixture of the languages from the
time of the Venetian supremacy. The women have
the beauty and grace of both nations, and some of
them are the grandest creatures I have seen.
" In the valley, in the shade of a colossal plane-
tree, was a covered v/ell. The earthen roof was
arched, and looked centuries old. Here the girls of
the village were drawing water and washing in the
rough stone troughs on the bank. We begged a
drink from one pretty creature who was filling her
jug from a tin pail. Then, while we stood talking
with the girls who were treading the clothes and
42 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
wringing them out, a queenly figure came down the
alley.
" * Look ! ' one whispered, ' here comes Nausicaa ! '
She was barefooted like the others, and on her head
she carried a beautiful water-jar, which lay on its side.
Her poise, her figure, her coloring, and her swinging
gait would have driven an artist to distraction. She
was dressed in a rich costume of velvet and silk, the
delight of the more prosperous peasants, and over
her masses of black hair, twisted and bound with
ribbons, was thrown the white veil w^orn by all
women. She was greeted by the girls at the v/ell,
and laughed in reply herself, without bending her
stately head. For us, though, she had no word.
She haughtily turned away when we wished to take
her picture, and filled her jar at the well. When it
was filled one of our gentlemen tried to lift it, but
with one hand he could not easily raise it from the
ground. The girl laughed, swung the jar lightly to
her head, poised it, and walked back up the lane.
''We turned reluctantly from the picturesque group
at the well, for the long shadows were already dark-
ening the narrow lanes of the village. One of the
younger girls ran timidly after us, and thrust a bunch
of cyclamens into my hand. I turned back to thank
her, and saw that the others had stopped their work,
and were resting their jars on the edge of the well,
while they looked after the strangers who had so sud-
denly broken in upon their peaceful lives.
" Toward evening the market-women trudged
homeward from the town. We met them walking in
groups, distaff in hand, driving their sheep before,
or carrying huge bundles of green stuff on their
THE IONIAN ISLES 43
heads. Sometimes there came a mule-cart, with a
few lazy men riding, while their wives walked beside
them in the road, shielding their eyes from the level
rays of the sun. There was a flock of turkeys, driven
by a small girl who flourished a dry branch over the
heads of her younger brother and sister, as well as
over her feathered charges. There was another dear
little girl leading a frisky kid by a cord. He gam-
bolled and pranced, dragging his unwilling mistress
hither and thither, while the child's mother walked
sedately beside the family cow.
*' Nearer the town we met a bridal party. The bride,
dressed in the accumulated finery of several genera-
tions, rode on a piUion, with her arms about her
handsome husband's waist. The sunset glow was re-
flected in their happy faces with true honeymoon
intensity.
" Corfu has many sides. We had seen several, but
had still to visit ^ the other side.' There was another
hillside village, more rugged and less picturesque
than Gastouri, but quaint in its own way. The chil-
dren and the goats showed us a path up the moun-
tain, which gave us a wonderful view of the whole
island, and the sea on either side. The pleasantest
part of that day's expedition was the long drive
through a different section of country. We walked
a good deal, preferring shade and flowers afoot to
indolence in a sunny carriage. I could never cease
to marvel at the olive groves, such gnarled, twisted,
fantastic trees, hundreds of years old, and yet ever
young. In their shade we ate our luncheon, and
gathered snowdrops. We chatted with the women
who were gathering the olives, smiled indulgently
44 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
at the sylvan picture of shepherd and shepherdess
sauntering together, exchanged greetings with a
hunter who was cutting 'cross country, and stared
curiously at the snug, white farmhouses barricaded
with hedges of aloes.
" Yes, we had found Greece, olives, figs, palms,
oranges, grapes, and cyclamen, our dreams were
beginning to come true. The Grecian seven by this
time were thorough Hellenists, but Corfu was not all,
there were other fairy isles to visit."
CEPHALONIA
A MOUNTAIN MONASTERY
The Greek coasting steamers are somewhat uncer-
tain. You can never tell just when they will arrive
or depart. The wilfulness of the managers and the
wilfulness of the weather are factors in this uncer-
tainty. Though the sea was mercifully calm, we were
twenty-four hours late in starting from Corfu for
Cephalonia. We boarded the steamer at eight o'clock
in the evening. A beautiful moon turned the water
into silver, and a brilliant sunrise burnished it with
gold.
Cephalonia has an area of two hundred and sixty
square miles and about sixty-eight thousand inhabi-
tants. The coast is rugged and abrupt; it is indeed
a mountain rising from the sea. Seen from a dis-
tance, especially from the south, one might imagine it
to be some vast sea-monster that had come to the
surface to breathe, its arched back rising high in
the air. The loftiest mountains have an elevation of
five thousand feet. As early as the fifth century
before Christ the Corinthians established a footing
here. Like Corfu, Cephalonia, after becoming a part
of the eastern empire, passed into the hands of the
Venetians and the Turks, and then into those of
England, but in 1863 reverted to Greece.
Of the sixty-eight thousand inhabitants two only
were English, and one of these was our devoted friend
46 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
and host. Mr. Stretch had said to us as we left Corfu,
" You will breakfast in Argostoli with my cousin Alfred
Woodley." As we sailed into the winding bay of
this port we saw among the crowd of boats with their
importunate boatmen a large yawl manned by half
a dozen sturdy Greeks whose dark faces contrasted
strongly with the handsome English face in the stern.
Though of English birth, Mr. Woodley is an example
of the cosmopolitan relations which one may sustain
in these Greek islands. *' Though I talk English
with my father," he said, " I always speak Italian
with my mother, who came from Italy ; with my sis-
ter, who was brought up in France, I speak French ;
and to my brother in Russia I write in Greek."
Two sea-water mills are among the curiosities of
the island. The water runs in from the sea, passes
through a deep natural channel in the rock and
has sufficient fall to turn a large mill wheel. To
find just where the current from the sea goes has
baffled investigators. It mysteriously disappears in
the rocky caverns. But this phenomenon of under-
ground rivers and mysterious channels is not uncom-
mon in Greece. In former times two mills were
worked by the current; one is now abandoned and
the other is not regularly used ; but the water con-
tinues to flow as of yore and hides its course some-
where in the interior of the island.
Before dinner, which was to be breakfast, we took
a long walk by the shore to the old tide mills. The
first mill was not running, so in disgust, hunger, heat
and dust, Mavilla sat down by the roadside and
waited for the more energetic sightseers, who trudged
another mile to the second mill. I mention this
THE IONIAN ISLES 4/
because it was on this occasion that she excavated
the little torso of which she is so proud. " I was
idly digging," she said, '' among the rocks and sand
with my red umbrella, hoping to find a stray bit of
pottery, when I suddenly unearthed a little figure
about three inches long, minus head, arms and legs.
Still, it was not to be despised. From a dismembered
torso Michael Angelo derived his inspiration. Origi-
nally the little figure was probably a child's toy.
How much more touching than if I had found
a broken vase, or a common bit of chiselled marble !
In no museum have I ever seen a torso just like my
little treasure, nor do the archaeologists who have
seen mine know how to classify it. At all events,
it must be recognized as one of the unexpected
discoveries of the day ! "
The darkened rooms of Mr. Woodley's rambling
great house on the hillside were a refreshing retreat
after the white heat of the sultry village. The house
was full of old pictures, antique furniture and quaint
odds and ends which suggested an English home;
but the fig-trees and palms in the court and the out-
of-door breakfast-room were Oriental. The dinner,
with its fresh fish and game, was deHcious, from soup
to melons.
In the cooler part of the afternoon we started in
two carriages for a drive up the mountain to the con-
vent of Saint Gerasimo and thence across the island.
Mr. Woodley accompanied us, and his man-servant
took charge of the extra wagon which held our light
traps.
Cephalonia is an island of rolling stones. One
seldom sees such miles of stone walls as cross and
48 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
crisscross the brown hillside vineyards. Not only
is the land terraced and graded and crazy-quilted
by these walls, but there are piles of stones in the
middle of every field. Hour after hour we toiled up
the winding road, for the monastery of Saint Gcra-
simo Hes far above the sea. Windmills crown every
hill-top, currant vines grow among the stones, and
hardy olive-trees bend under the force of the harsh
mountain winds. There is little else to break the
monotony of the heights. We passed no villages and
almost no houses, but occasionally we met a peasant
on a mule going down to the sea for supplies, or were
overtaken by some Argostoli pilgrim carrying a
votive offering to Gerasimo's shrine. There were
a few shepherds with their flocks, and from the olive-
trees we heard the girls singing unmusical Greek
songs in a nasal drone, while they gathered the ripe
fruit.
Half-way to the monastery is a picturesque and un-
attractive inn. We stopped to rest our horses and
let our drivers refresh themselves. The inn-keeper's
wife hospitably invited us to come upstairs. We
picked our way among the hens which were scratch-
ing on the earthen floor of the common room and
climbed to the upper story by a ladder on the out-
side. There, in the only bedroom which the inn
boasted, the proud housekeeper showed us the win-
dow-pane where King George of Greece had scratched
his name with a diamond. Leaving the others to
feign awe and admiration for the royal signature,
Mavilla peeped into the next room. " It was a bare
attic, with bunches of herbs, uncanny dried octopods,
and rude farm implements hanging from the rafters,
THE IONIAN ISLES 49
and on the floor I gasped with delight, visions of
pantry shelves, plum buns and fruit-cake flashing
through my mind were piles of dried Zante cur-
rants ! As our apples are stored at home, so these cur-
rants were heaped everywhere in generous profusion.
Pleased to find us so appreciative, our hostess
straightway filled our hands and pockets and hats.
What a feast we had ! The supply lasted us for days,
weeks, months. In fact, a short time ago, when un-
packing some Greek trophies, we found one of the
small boy's handkerchiefs wound round a wad of
Zante currants."
At dusk we approached the monastery, passing
through a straggling village on the edge of the pla-
teau. An arched gateway opened into the convent
courtyard, where a young priest with a Christ-like
face was pacing to and fro between the little chapel
and the big plane-tree in the centre of the enclosure.
On the balcony of one of the long buildings sat two
or three of the nuns, with their black shawls drawn
over their heads. Below them were some monks
mending a farm wagon. As we drove into the court-
yard they hospitably welcomed us, and while the men
unharnessed our horses, the sisters led us up into the
refectory, where the long tables were already lighted
by candles and antique lamps. The sisters were
delighted to see Mr. Woodley, who frequently visited
the convent, and they chatted together in rapid vernac-
ular Greek which we could not begin to understand.
The supper, which had been brought ready cooked
from Argostoli, was spread and the hospitable nuns
added fresh eggs and honey to the feast. Rather
regretfully they withdrew while we ate, but no sooner
4
Jo THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
had we finished than they reappeared and invited us
to visit their inner court.
The monastery of Saint Gerasimo is really a nunnery
with an abbess and a few priests and acolytes who
conduct the religious services in the chapel. The
country people respect and love the abbess, or
Mother Superior, as do the inmates of the convent,
where she has been for over thirty years. She lives
in the main building, which stands between the men's
court and the women's. The latter was the more
interesting, with its row of little whitewashed houses,
each having a bit of garden under the windows,
shaded by vines and fig-trees. In each tiny house
live two sisters, whose busy fingers decorate their liv-
ing-rooms with embroidery, patchwork and knitted
tidies. Some of the younger girls were drawing
water at the well as we crossed the courtyard. Sev-
eral others ran out to peep at us, holding back with
shy curiosity. One sister had been to France, and
she was pushed forward as interpreter. The rest
kept behind her, clinging to one another's skirts;
but they soon lost their fear and followed us into
the chapel.
The monastery is distinguished for two things, the
remains of Hagios Gerasimo, and the underground
cell in which he lived. Neither of them was particu-
larly attractive, but the little sisters would have been
disappointed if we had not begged the privilege of
seeing what is left of their patron saint. To the
chapel we went, then, where the priests and the little
boys who drone the responses were already gathered.
Anastasios the priest asked us to write our Christian
names on a bit of paper. Then we took our places
TPIE IONIAN ISLES 5 1
in the stalls, with the other worshippers, and service
was conducted for our especial benefit. On a great
shelf built into the wall lay what had once been
Gerasimo, a poor brown mummy, laden with rings
and votive jewels. Before his shrine the priest stood
chanting a prayer. Now and again we could catch
our own names " Guilielmos," '' Triantaphylle,"
" Mavilla " as he presented each one to the saint.
Then, when the introductions were over, we were
allowed to step within the sacred enclosure, and bow
before his saintship. The fervor of the worshippers
made the service solemn, and even we Americans
were touched.
The very small hole in the floor, through which we
had to wriggle down into the saint's cell, shows that
Gerasimo must have been an abstemious man. How
could a man dig a hole for himself in the rocks under-
ground, and live in that foul dampness, when he
might have enjoyed God's sunshine? But men
thought differently four hundred years ago, and
Gerasimo was considered wise and holy and possi-
bly clean.
Beyond the plain where the convent stands rises
Mt. Aenus. The view from its summit is the finest
to be had in the Ionian islands. We planned to climb
it in time to see the sunrise. " Please have the mules
ready and wake us at three," we said, as we went to
our rooms.
At three the convent bells and the clatter of hoofs
beneath our windows woke us. It was raining hard.
No sunrise, no mountain ! We mournfully gathered
in the refectory to decide what we should do.
In the first place," said our practical escort, ** let's
52 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
have some tea." So we sat around in the dim candle-
hght and held an informal '* afternoon tea" at 3 A. M.
on Surrday. Glimmering through the rain we could
see the lights of the chapel, where the monks and the
sisters were already at mass. We splashed across
the court and sHpped in behind the pillars. The ser-
vice was antiphonal. On one side stood a young
priest who was reading the liturgy at a rate which
would have made the most rapid phonograph green
with envy. What a cataract of words ! And all the
time his eyes were scarcely on the book ; one of them
at least was busy scanning the new-comers. It is
not a common event to have such a party at early
morning prayers. On the other side stood an old
priest at a second reading-desk with a large illumi-
nated prayer-book which now and then caught the
drippings of the candle he held in his hand. Very
prominent was the sharp nasal tone of the principal
boy as he sang out,
i^
Ky - rie e - lei - son
The old priest invited Mavilla and myself to look
over with him and follow the Greek text. We each
held a naked candle, while the priest kept track of the
place with one of his fingers. He had been a sailor
in his early days and had seen a little of the world.
His literal devotion to the service did not prevent
him from keeping up a broken conversation with uS;
which he interjected between the responses.
"You come from America?"
" Yes."
THE IONIAN ISLES 53
" Kyrie eleison, Kyrie eleison What part? "
" From Boston."
" Ah ! Kyrie eleison, Kyrie eleison I was there
once. It was many years ago." Then another vol-
ley of Greek addressed to Heaven, and suspended at
the proper pause to make sure that his communica-
tions with earth were not cut off. The expression
" Lord have mercy" {Kyrie eleison) when he learned
that we were from Boston seemed to us strangely
inappropriate. He was greatly pleased to estab-
lish this relationship, and more than the ordinary
amount of melted candle dripped upon the sacred
page. The service was thoroughly mechanical, and
I did not see why a phonograph run by water power
would not have been as devotional. But it was a free
and novel lesson in the modern Greek pronunciation.
" I moved away," says Mavilla, " and let the priest
talk with my father. The stone floor was cold, and I
was sleepy. Two or three nuns were nodding in their
stalls; another, crouched on the floor, was rocking
back and forth, throwing up her hands and moaning.
The little choir boys yawned, and pulled each other
by the sleeves when it was time for their responses.
The splash of the rain mingled with the monotonous
drone of the priest; the incense made me dull, and
the candles flickered weirdly before my sleepy eyes."
"When will the service be over?" I whispered to
Mr. Woodley.
*' In three hours," he replied cheerfully. " It lasts
every morning from two to seven."
Mavilla gave one look at the picturesque two by
the reading-desk " the dark, gray-bearded priest
and the pale clergyman, paler than ever in the dim
54 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
candle-light " and quietly stole back to bed. It was
not long before the paternal clergyman followed.
For their hospitality the monks made no charge,
but accepted with thanks the contribution we offered.
I was told that there were some sixty women and
some twenty men at this monastery, which serves as a
sort of hospital for the surrounding country, people
with mental as well as physical derangements being
sent here for cure.
By six o'clock in the morning the rain had ceased,
but the clouds hung heavy over the mountain-peak,
and it was too late to make the ascent. We decided,
therefore, to drive across the island to Samos on the
east side, where we might hire a sloop for Ithaca.
We said adieu to the monks and their mountain
shrine. The carriages which had brought us from
Argostoli, on the west side of Cephalonia, we had
retained over night, so that we were able to proceed
directly to Samos without retracing our steps. The
ride over the mountains, from which the clouds had
lifted, afforded one of the grandest views in the
Ionian Isles, the island of Zante appearing in the
south, and the rocky ridge of '* far-seen " Ithaca
looming up to the east. Before noon we had reached
Samos. Some of the suitors of Penelope lived here.
It is situated in a beautiful bay on the strait which
divides Cephalonia from Ithaca. The town is small
and has no such importance as it had in Homer's
days, and probably could not furnish any rich
princely suitors to a modern Penelope. In the
small village hotel there were hanging two pictures
of very indifferent artistic quality, which, to the only
Americans on the island of Cephalonia, were sugges-
THE IONIAN ISLES 55
tive of modern Greek affinities. One was a picture
of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor, the
other a view of Niagara Falls. These were as much
of a surprise to us as a picture of Athene or the
Parthenon would be in a remote Montana ranch.
With gratitude and regret we bade our generous
friend Mr. Woodley good-by, and after hiring a
barca set sail for Ithaca.
FAR-SEEN ROCKY ITHACA
** Far-seen and rocky." These are adjectives which
the poet of the Odyssey applied to this island three
thousand years ago, and they belong to it still.
They alone are not enough to distinguish it as the
abode of Odysseus ; but without these attributes any
island would claim the honor in vain. There are
other natural features lending support to the tradition
which identifies the island with the Ithaca of Homer.
Homer is not reckless or audacious in statement.
When he undertakes to describe the course of an
arrow or a spear in the body of some Trojan whose
eyes had been veiled in death, he does not make the
cruel bronze take an impossible course. When, like-
wise, he deals with geography, he does not create a
map wholly out of his imagination. He uses exist-
ing facts, places and scenery as the trellis upon which
to spread the flower and fruit of his tropical yet
simple fancy. He mentions islands and places, to be
sure, which cannot be identified with any existing
sites ; but, on the other hand, the catalogue of ships
and places in the second book of the Iliad, even
though it be a later addition, furnishes us with the
oldest information we have about the geography and
topography of Greece in that early time. Though
Homer, individual or composite, had no intention of
writing a book on geography, he had no intention of
ignoring the subject. If he had done so, seven cities
THE IONIAN ISLES 57
Ithaca was one of them would not have claimed
to be his birthplace.
The steamers from Brindisi to Greece stop at Corfu
and Patras ; but they make no account of Ithaca. It
does not lie in the pathway of trade. We were told
that it was not easy to get there ; that it would take
us a week out of our course ; especially that it was
not practicable to go there with a party of seven,
four of whom were ladies, and one a seven-year-old
boy. But these ladies and that boy had camped
in the forests of Canada, and had spent their first
three nights on Greek soil under a tent of their own
construction. They were prepared to do it again if
necessary. Had they not also read the Odyssey
crossing the Atlantic? And did they not long, like
Odysseus, to see the smoke rise from his native land?
But why go to Ithaca? It has no temples, no
great churches, no paintings, no monuments of archi-
tecture, no sculptures, no ruins, and no history of
more than local interest. Nor has it any natural
curiosities such as make Niagara or the Natural
Bridge famous the world over. And yet, in spite of
this, it had an attraction for us equalled only among
these isles by Corfu, and for precisely the same rea-
son. The fame of Ithaca was not made by sword,
trowel, chisel, or brush ; it was made wholly by the
pen. Literature, as well as art and religion, has its
shrines, and every country with a literature has them.
They may be shrines rural or urban, scenic or civic,
historic, traditional or mythical, but literature has
given them their fame, and may sometimes be wholly
responsible for their creation. The whole scenery of
Scotland has been tinged by the genius of Walter
58 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Scott, as the peaks and crags and vales and meres
of the Lake District have felt the touch of Words-
worth, Southey and Coleridge. Paris means Victor
Hugo and Dumas as well as Napoleon, Richelieu
and the French kings; and with all its wonderful
shrines of religion and art, Florence, for the modern
traveller, means Dante and Browning as well as
Raphael and Savonarola. Has Phidias or Pericles
done more for Athens than Socrates, Sophocles,
iEschylus and Plato? So Ithaca is a shrine, a mon-
ument of literature ; and it has this peculiar interest,
that its fame lies wholly and absolutely in this direc-
tion. The Odyssey was built with Ithaca as one of
its foundation stones ; but now it is Ithaca that rests
on the Odyssey, which Lowell has said is the one
long story that will bear continuous reading. It mat-
ters not whether it deals with history or romance,
the story of the Odyssey will continue to exert its
charm and Ithaca will loom up in the narrative just
as it looms up in the landscape. The picture is so
well fixed in the mind that now we can seek with
enthusiasm for the easel and the canvas on which it
was painted. So long as the Odyssey continues to
be read, some Ithaca will possess an interest as the
home of its hero and his faithful Penelope, as the
abode of the devoted swineherd, and as the scene of
the wanton riot of the suitors and their tragic doom.
With it we shall connect the dutiful Telemachus, the
aged Laertes, and Argos the faithful dog.
One of the constant iterations in the Odyssey, so
often repeated that it becomes a kind of standing
joke, is the question addressed to every new-comer
in Ithaca. " But now, good stranger, tell me this :
THE IONIAN ISLES 59
Who are you, and whence do you come ; from what
land and city? On what ship did you come, and
how did sailors bring you here? Whom do they call
themselves? " And then was added, we can suppose,
with a knowing wink, or a figurative poke in the rib :
" For I don't imagine that you came on foot ! " Cer-
tainly one would have to roll back the sea or walk
on the water to get to Ithaca on foot. We did
not make the attempt. The other questions are as
likely to be put to a stranger in Ithaca to-day as they
were then. Inquisitiveness is an hereditary Greek
trait.
Cephalonia is separated from Ithaca, as Homer
informs us, by a strait which is from eight to ten
miles wide. There is no steamer plying between
the islands. We had therefore, as already said,
crossed to the east side of Cephalonia, and hired a
small sloop to take us over. The breeze was light,
for which some of our party were grateful. But the
men bent to their oars just as they did in the old
days. There is nothing older in the way of naviga-
tion than an ash breeze, unless it be one of pine or
poplar. A warm sun beamed upon us. There was
no danger of collision. Ours was the only boat vis-
ible in this long strait. We had an unobstructed
view of the west side of Ithaca. No just idea of the
shape of the island can be had from that side ; but
we got an excellent view of the three hills or moun-
tains which raise their backs and, with a long, flowing
outline, cut a small ;;/ in the air. There is Aetos. It
is only 650 feet high, but it counts for more than that
when seen from the level of the sea. There is Neritos,
only 2,600 feet high, but looming up still higher as
6o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
we view it through the lens of the imagination. This
island was not made for a farm. It looks too hard and
forbidding for a poem. It appears to have been made
for a quarry, so stern and rocky is its visage.
I had two guide-books in my pockets. One was a
Baedeker, the other was an Odyssey. I took out
the Odyssey, and in the two hours we were cross-
ing, read all the allusions to Ithaca which it con-
tains. Homer meant to tell the truth about his
Ithaca, and in some respects this island bears out
well the words of the Odyssey. " In Ithaca," he
says, " there are no open runs, no meadows ; a land
for goats. Not one of the islands is a place to drive
a horse, and none has good meadows of all that rest
upon the sea, Ithaca least of all." Homer, it is clear,
was not in the real-estate business. He may or may
not have been born on this island; but he is not
advertising property for sale. He knows well what
Ithaca lacks. There is no meadow land here. The
goats still climb these rocky cliffs ; and that it is pos-
sible to drive a horse from one end of the island to
the other on a single highway is due to the good
roads established under English rule. But Homer
could tell, also, the good features of the island.
When Odysseus has been brought from Scheria by
night in a profound sleep by the magic boat of the
Phasacians, he is landed in the harbor of Phorcys.
When he wakes he is so dazed that he fails to recog-
nize his native land. But Athene, who is perpetually
turning up when wanted, appears in the guise of a
shepherd, and the home-brought wanderer asks her
what sort of a land it is. She says, " You are simple,
stranger, or come from far away to ask about this
THE IONIAN ISLES 6 1
land. It is not quite so nameless. Many men know
it well, men dwelling toward the east and rising sun,
and those behind us, also, toward the darksome west.
It is a rugged land, not fit for driving horses, yet not
so very poor, though lacking plains. Grain grows
abundantly, and wine as well; the showers are fre-
quent, and the dews refreshing; here is good pastur-
age for goats and cattle; trees of all kinds are here,
and never-failing springs." ^ And then she proceeds
to show him things and places which he cannot fail
to recognize.
If Odysseus were to wake up here to-day he would
find a wire strung on poles. He would puzzle his brain
a little to know what it meant. Perhaps Athene, who,
according to Roscher and others, is a personification
of the lightning, would be kind enough to tell him
that it is a modern pathway for her swift feet, and
that on it she could flash across the land or dart
under the sea. It is one form in which the goddess
still lives in the nineteenth century, and she served us
a good turn on our way to Ithaca. I did not forget,
before leaving Cephalonia, that Ithaca had a poor
reputation for horses, and asked what would be the
possibility of getting two carriages. " There are just
two on the island," was the response, " but we can
send a despatch from Samos by cable to Ithaca to
have these carriages meet you at Pissaeto."
The telegram was sent, and by the time we were
ready to land in the pretty little cove at Pissaeto the
carriages from the town, four miles away, were wait-
ing for us, and we thanked Athene for her electrical
benignity and service.
1 Palmer's translation.
62 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
The carriages seemed as archaic as the island it-
self, and might have passed for chariots captured by
Odysseus in the Trojan War. It was not necessary
to look at the horses' teeth to be impressed with
their age. These steeds would not have cut much of
a figure on a Parthenon frieze. ** If our horses were
not speedy," says Mavilla, " there was exhilaration in
the thought that thty were the only ones on the
island, and that our frail carriages were all that kings
could command in Ithaca."
Putting the ladies in the carriages, I started on foot
from the little cove, which is entirely devoid of set-
tlement, the real harbor of Ithaca being on the east
side. Up the steep hill one can walk faster than he
can ride. In about half an hour we came to the little
chapel of St. George, from which a rugged pathway
leads to the top of Aetos. There was just time to
reach the summit and get a good view before sunset,
and I wanted to make sure of the view and to pay a
visit to " Odysseus' Castle." There are some Greeks
who live on the principle of not doing to-day what
they can put off till to-morrow. Our charioteer was
one of them. I took out my watch, and then pointed
to the top of Aetos.
" Aijpcov, avpiou " (to-morrow, to-morrow), said the
driver, to which I replied, with even more emphasis,
" 'Lrj/jLepov, crrjfjLepov " (to-day, to-day).
But it was not worth while to keep the carriages
and the rest of the party waiting. It was agreed,
therefore, that the others should drive on to Vathy,
the port of Ithaca, and that I should make the ascent
to the so-called castle and the summit of Aetos, and
rejoin them at Vathy, the town three miles away.
THE IONIAN ISLES 63
The rest of the party looked askance at the abrupt
height, and, without going up, Mavilla was sure that
Odysseus had never lived there. *' Homer," she said,
" would have described the rocky ascent in detail if
the palace had stood on any such eminence." But
the local tradition found a defender in Eumaeus him-
self. He had served as guide to Schliemann, and he
offered to guide me. He could speak no word of
English or French, and his Greek was more modern
than that of Homer. He returned, however, my
Homeric greeting x^^P^'^^> ^^^ there is, indeed,
no part of Greece where this Homeric salutation is
not in vogue. His dress was modern in form, but
ancient enough in substance. His coat and trousers
were of European cut, but when I looked at his feet
I was sure it was the old swineherd. Except for the
wear and tear of three thousand years, the sandals he
wore, cut out of leather and tied with thongs, might
have been those which the swineherd was making
about the time Odysseus came home. He had
changed his occupation from swineherd to goatherd,
and there was a sensible diminution in his affection
for his master, since he confided to me that he thought
Odysseus was a rascal (jravovpyof;^ and never wanted
to come back.
It is a stiff" climb to the summit, and I had but a
short time to make it. The old king must have been
stout of leg if he came up here. The signs of an
ancient stronghold are beyond doubt in the old
Cyclopean walls, in which the natural rock has been
used to the best advantage. A cavity ten feet in
diameter and eighteen feet deep has been walled
about by heavy stones, perhaps for a cistern.
64 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
There are other traces of a foundation and pieces
of wall here and there, indicating some larger fortifi-
cation commanding this pass. Its style and character
suggest great antiquity. Gell and Schliemann have
both assumed that this was the site of the castle of
Odysseus. Schliemann, in one of his earliest ven-
tures in excavation, tried to prove his claim with the
spade, but with small result. It is fortunate that his
failure at Ithaca did not deter him from the later ex-
cavations, so rich and fruitful, at Mycenae and Troy.
It is well-nigh impossible to reconcile the topography
of the town of Ithaca in the Odyssey with the situa-
tion of this so-called castle. I got Eumseus to stand
in the ruins while I took a photograph of him, but
even his ancient face surmounted by a European
cap instead of one of the traditional sugar-loaf Odys-
sean cut could not invest the site with much of
probabihty.
The view from the summit was well worth the
steep climb. No other outlook can give an ade-
quate idea of the shape of Ithaca. On the east side
the Gulf of Molo is so deep that it nearly cuts the
island in two. As you stand on the narrow, lofty
ridge, you have a fine view of Cephalonia and the
bay of Samos to the west; to the north you see
the Leucadian promontory, the southern end of Santa
Maura, whence Sappho made her traditional leap;
while to the east are the island of Atakos and the
mountains of Acarnania. It was a beautiful, peace-
ful scene. I succeeded in taking a photograph which
gives a good idea of the topography of the northern
part of the island and the narrow spine of the isthmus
which holds it together. Looking down from this
THE IONIAN ISLES 6$
height the eye of the camera caught the water of the
Gulf of Molo on one side, and the water of the strait
on the other, while the rugged mountain ridge arched
its back between them. I lingered on the summit
till the sun went down, and then, with the goatherd,
made my way to the town of Vathy, which was not
reached till after dark. A hardy fisherman and his
boy joined us on our way, and were much impressed
with what I told them of the physical greatness of
America as compared with Ithaca.
The ladies, with their youthful escort, had already
found accommodation in a little Greek inn bearing
the lofty name of Parnassus. It is pretty hard for
any hotel to live up to the majestic pretension of this
name, and if Spiridion, my worthy host, came short
of it, I am bound to say that the prices were not so
high as the mountain. A rickety outside stairway
led to the four rooms of the inn. Below was the
kitchen, where the modern Spiridion and his wife
lived, and cooked potatoes and fish, fish and po-
tatoes, potatoes and fish, hot for breakfast, tepid for
dinner, and cold for supper.
In one of the tiny bedrooms hung a bit of a mir-
ror. This was the hotel register, where the six or
eight visitors of the last ten years had stuck their
visiting cards. We studied them with interest. There
were some German professors, and an English lord
or two, who had anchored their yachts in the shel-
tered harbor, where fifty vessels could find protection ;
but not an American name among them. Many a
year it will be before seven Americans take Vathy by
storm again. Our blessings are with them when they
go ! Let them not expect to have the three bed-
5
66 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
rooms to themselves. Let them not delude them-
selves with a vision of a picturesque inn where a
dainty Greek maiden in becoming costume serves
nectar and ambrosia. Yet Spiridion's wife, though
neither young nor attractive, was solicitous about our
meals. With great care she pretended to inquire as
to the hours when we would have them served, as
if it made any difference, when we knew that the
food was all cooked in one batch, and doled out to
us at regular intervals.
The next day a pouring rain was discouraging
to archaeological investigation. But Paul and my-
self did not mean to have our enthusiasm damp-
ened. We planned to go to the north of the island
to see if the topography could any more easily
be reconciled to the story. One of the tires of the
chariot was nearly off to start with. To all ap-
pearances it would not last fifteen minutes, and we
had a round trip of from five to six hours ahead of
us. But there was no telling how many journeys it
had made in that condition, and the driver's confi-
dence seemed to be based upon its age and general
debility. If the carriage was bad, the road was fine,
and now and then the clouds lifted to give us a view
on the way to Stavros. The road winds around the
Gulf of Molo, and then rises in a zigzag on the
mountain side, and runs across the high *' divide "
or saddle which separates the Gulf of Molo from
the channel of Ithaca. The beautiful view of the
day before was shut out by the pouring rain. We
passed through the little village of Levke, and
finally, after a slow, wet ride of three hours, a large
part of which was up hill, we wound round the
THE IONIAN ISLES 6/
Bay of Polis, and reached Stavros. Here we left our
carriage, and, taking as a guide a young man whom
we had found in the village, we wandered through
the olive groves and fertile vineyards to see if per-
chance we might find the aged Laertes among them.
A woman whom we met near the little church of
Hagios Anastasios showed us tlie spring of Mela-
nydro, which may or may not be the Arethusa of the
Odyssey. We took a taste of its dark waters. If
only we could tell a classical spring by the taste or by
chemical analysis ! But the Odyssey was not written
in a laboratory or under the inspiration of an hydraulic
survey. Then we went down the staircase in the
rock to the picturesque spot called " Homer's School,"
which Baedeker says has borne the name for the last
hundred years. The rain had ceased, and though
the clouds were heavy, we got some idea of the
beautiful view from this, one of the most charming
spots on the island.
The difficulties of identifying modern Ithaca with
the Ithaca of Homer appear, in the first place, in the
situation of the island as a whole and in its rela-
tion to the others of the group. In the Odyssey
it is described as the most westerly of the islands,
whereas it lies to the east of Cephalonia. It is not
easy to get round this general difficulty. The story
also requires a small island near Ithaca, " a rocky
isle in the sea, midway between Ithaca and rugged
Samos." The only island in the channel of Ithaca
is Daskalio or Mathitario, about six miles from Polis.
From Stavros we had a good view of this Httle
island, which does not look much larger than a sand-
bar now, though the Odyssey requires one with a
68 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
" double harbor." But there is time for many changes
in three thousand years. Taking this little island as
a fixed and necessary point in the identification, we
are obliged, then, to assume some other place for the
town of Ithaca than the present site of Vathy. The
fact that Polis means *' city " in Greek, and that this
name has been applied to the harbor on the north-
west coast for centuries, creates a presumption that
the ancient city may have been there.
There are other questions which meet the Homeric
student: Where was the cave of the Nymphs, and
where did Odysseus land when he returned to Ithaca?
About a mile and a half to the south of Vathy is a
cave with stalactites, called Palaeokropi, which might
have served as the grotto of the Nymphs, though
if the Nymphs do not belong to the world of reality,
their grotto might be easily and pardonably myth-
ical. The description of the harbor of Phorcys is
quite definite. Some find its correspondent in the
Bay of Dexia, and others in the Bay of Vathy.
The result of examination the ascent of Aetos,
the wet trip to Stavr6s, and a study of Vathy and
the Gulf of Molo convinced me that many of the
topographical allusions in the Odyssey cannot be
easily identified in detail. A theory which fits one
locality and one allusion is sure to involve contradic-
tion and misfit with another allusion. On the other
hand, if we may dismiss as the mistake of some
rhapsodist who had never been to Ithaca, the state-
ment as to the westerly position of the island, we
cannot fail to find a striking general resemblance to
the rugged, far-seen, rocky isle described in the
Odyssey. It seems to me that the original rhapso-
THE IONIAN ISLES 69
dists may have used it so far as it served their pur-
pose, and that the author or editor who unified the
story attempted no geographical identification. The
remarkable discoveries at Troy, which were made
through loyally accepting the verity of a hoary tra-
dition as to the site of the ancient city, remind us of
the great claim that tradition has to respect. Though
Gell carried too far his attempt to identify places in
the Odyssey, he has done well to present evidence
from coins and elsewhere to show how many cen-
turies the name Ithaca has been applied to the island.
The spade has not come to the corroboration of the
poet in Ithaca, as it has at Troy and Mycenae. Ex-
cavations have proved of little avail. But it is not
necessary to go below ground to substantiate Homer
here. The island may have lost many of its trees,
though the olive and the almond and the lemon are
found in the northern part, and there are beautiful
vineyards such as Laertes may have tended ; but
the substantial features of mountain and bay, " the
footpaths stretching far away, the sheltered coves
and steep rocks " of which the poet spoke, still re-
main enveloped in the glow of his imagination. If
the doubter lands at Ithaca, Athene, in the shape of
the shepherd, may say, as she did to the sceptical
Odysseus, *' Come, then, and let me point you out
the parts of Ithaca, that so you may believe." And
important features in the argument will be, as they
were then, the Harbor of Phorcys and the Cave of
the Nymphs.
ZANTE
I
THE WORK OF THE EARTHSHAKER
Poor Zante ! When first I saw her, from the
heights of Cephalonia, she was lying peacefully, like
a brooch, on the quiet bosom of the sea. And then,
as if seized by a fearful nightmare, she was rudely
shaken from her sleep, and her scarred face plainly
shows the suffering she endured.
Zante, or Zakynthos, as it was anciently called,
and as it has been renamed by the modern Greeks,
is one of the most beautiful of the Ionian islands.
It lies to the south of Cephalonia and to the west
of the Peloponnesus, and, like the other Ionian
islands, floats the Greek flag. It is old enough to
be mentioned in the Odyssey, but, unlike Corfu or
Ithaca, has not been the scene of epic description
or adventure.
With the exception of a constitutional tendency to
earthquakes, Zante is a little island paradise, '^ the
flower of the East." Its climate is exceptionally fine.
In spring the multitude of flowers is something phe-
nomenal, and even in winter roses and cyclamen
bloom in abundance. It is a great garden for cur-
rants, oranges and lemons, and its olive groves are
hale and venerable,
Zante is seldom visited by Americans ; but there
are few who are not famihar with its products in the
THE IONIAN ISLES 7 1
shape of currants and olive oil, which, until recently,
have formed a large part of its trade, now sadly
debilitated by causes as revolutionary as earthquakes.
The island has a population of about forty-four thou-
sand and an area of one hundred and sixty-nine
square miles.
Ordinarily, Zante is not a place for sightseers.
The town by that name, with a population of about
sixteen thousand souls, is quiet, well behaved, and
not at all sensational. It has a fine old Greek
church, a Roman Catholic church, and a ruined
Venetian castle commanding the city from the high
hill above. The archaeologist generally goes else-
where in search of ruins; but in February, 1893, he
could find them there in sad abundance. He could
watch them, too, in process of making, with the
added interest which came from knowing that he was
in great danger thereby of becoming a ruin himself.
At Vido I had seen them made by gunpowder ; I was
interested to see how they were made by earthquakes.
My curiosity was abundantly satisfied. A dead earth-
quake is bad enough, especially when it leaves pov-
erty and distress in its path, but a live one, when
you are in the second story of a hotel, is the most
surprising of earthly sensations.
It does not seem strange, when you think of the
globe as rushing through space faster than a cannon-
ball, that occasionally a section of its crust, warped
by volcanic fires or wrinkled by some great subsi-
dence, should crack and shiver. But, though we are
perfectly used to the motion of the earth as a whole,
there are few things more startling than the motion
of a large piece of its surface. It is doubly startling
*r2 THE ISLES AND SltRINfiS OF GREEiCE
when you are on an island which everywhere bears
marks of the mighty force which has convulsed it,
and left ruined homes and churches, and pain and
poverty in its track. You have seen what such a
tremendous force can do ; you feel absolutely help-
less in its hands. One may become so thoroughly
accustomed to the motion of water as to have a sense
of mental and physical exhilaration in riding on its
waves ; but when the very earth shakes beneath you
like a sieve, you feel as helpless dust within it.
It was four days after the great shock which left
town and village sadly shattered that I had my first
experience with an active earthquake. It was a
sort of shuddering reminiscence of what had gone
before, a premonition, too, of what was to follow, not
the kind of dessert you want for your dinner. It
was not what it did that frightened one, so much as
what it seemed capable of doing. Emotionally at
least you had considered this " terrestrial ball " as
solid and inert. You are suddenly amazed to find
it alive. It is arching its gigantic back; it is trem-
bling with anger or pain. More fearful than the
thought that its motion is voluntary is the terribly
swift suspicion that it may be involuntary ; that the
great creature cannot help it ; that it is the victim of
internal distress. If you were not so frightened, you
might even be sympathetic ; you are immensely re-
lieved when the shaking stops ; but you have no
surety that it will not come again.
In this pale incertitude none of us left the table.
We might have done so had it not been for the stolid
indifiference of the hotel keeper. He was the only
person or thing in the vicinity that in the midst of
tHE IONIAN ISLES 73
the general agitation seemed to be absolutely un-
moved. He felt perfectly sure, he said, that his hotel
would stand. Did he hold a mortgage on the land?
The next morning at six o'clock occurred the most
powerful shock after the first ruinous one. We were
sleeping, my companion and myself, in two iron bed-
steads, each of which had a frame above, terminating
in a gilded crown for the support of a mosquito net-
ting. The affirmation of Shakspere, " Uneasy lies the
head that wears a crown," seemed to have in it an ele-
ment of prediction. The King of Greece, however,
had taken off his crown, or the jaunty little yachting-
cap that serves the same purpose, and gone to a safe
place on his yacht. Our gilded crowns were a part of
the bedstead. I do not know how the king felt, but
as for myself, the sensation I had at six o'clock that
morning was unlike anything I had ever experienced.
For a moment it seemed as if the bottom had dropped
out of everything. We waited expectantly for the
tremendous crash with which the building would col-
lapse and bury us in its ruins. What a mighty ague !
It was not a wave, not an undulation, but a wrench-
ing, shivering, shattering. Titanic power. It is only
three or four seconds in duration, but each second is
a brief eternity. What can you do? If you are able
to rush into the street, you may be killed by your
neighbor's walls ; if you stay in your house, you may
be buried under your own. On the whole, the safest
thing is to do nothing. Your fate will be decided for
you.
One needs to experience an earthquake to know
what terror might reside in the old time in the desig-
nation of Poseidon as the earthshaker. Had the sea
;74 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
god waked up to wreak his vengeance on Christian
shrines?
The time for you to make your preparation, when
you Hve \u h.n earthquake country, is when you build
your house. And if you build as in the sight of the
gods, you can put up a house that will endure on this
tremulous island the repeated shocks of seven hun-
dred years. So the Venetians built here, and so
the English who followed them. This is one rea-
son why there is little appearance of earthquake ruin
as you sail into the harbor of Zante to-day. The
great buildings, the lofty towers, were made to last.
Not so the houses built by the Greeks living in
the outskirts of the town and in the villages on the
island. They have been built with stones and earth,
without the grip of lime, and when the day of
reckoning comes they go down.
Just how the earthshaker troubled Zante in ancient
times, I do not know; but in the present century
several visitations have been recorded. Severe shocks
were felt in 1873 and 1886, but the last great con-
vulsion before that of 1893 was in 1840, on Saint
Luke's Day. It did a great deal of damage, but
there was only one shock. The earthquake of 1893,
however, was signalled by slight premonitions, and
by several succeeding shocks of great power. The
strongest, which did immense damage and endan-
gered the lives of thousands of people, occurred at
half-past five on the morning of January 31. It was
followed by one at two o'clock the next day, and by
a third at six o'clock the day following, February 2.
Between these were a great number of minor shocks,
which served to continue and heighten the alarm and
THE IONIAN ISLES 75
to heap up another instalment of ruins in the outskirts
of the city.
Excitement and terror were widespread. The
nomarch, or governor of the island, lost his head
completely, and was found on the shore hunting for
a boat in which to escape with his family from the
island. Five hundred people immediately sailed for
Patras, and as many more left the next day. Those
who owned anything in the shape of a wagon or car-
riage, pulled it out in the square or on the quay and
slept in it. Others hired carriages for the same pur-
pose. No one went to bed. The country people
stayed out of doors. On the third day the terror
was increased by a tremendous storm of thunder and
lightning, and a general panic ensued.
The condition of a large number of people was
certainly unfortunate. They were suddenly rendered
homeless. Some had nothing but the clothes on
their backs. The climate of Zante is usually mild,
even in winter; but that week the cold was more
severe than for many years. The rain poured into
the roofless cellars in which many families had taken
refuge. From the Greek naval station, about three
hours by water, one hundred tents were sent to the
island, where several thousand were needed. Half of
these tents were taken possession of by the soldiers,
who had left their barracks. The Athenian papers
loudly rebuked this form of military cowardice, and
the nomarch and the commandant were dismissed.
The poorest part of the town is on the south side,
in what is known as Neachori. The havoc of the
earthquake here was great, so far as property is con-
cerned. Few houses were totally demolished. In
j6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
nearly every case one or two walls were left stand-
ing, and in almost all cases the front. This fact is
significant. The system of house building in Zante in
the last thirty years has been disgracefully careless.
No lime is used in the construction of the walls
except on the facades, which are the only parts that
stand. A wall of earth and stones may bear the
slight exposure of such a mild climate as that of
Zante, but it is no protection against a wrenching,
jostling earthquake. That more people were not
maimed or killed is due to the fact that the inhabi-
tants well know where the weak part of the house is,
and so have their sleeping-rooms in the front, and
the kitchen and dining-room in the back. The most
destructive shock was at half-past five in the morn-
ing, before they had risen. There were thus few
people on the streets to be hit by falling stones.
Earthquakes undoubtedly have their freaks ; but
they do have some respect for good architecture.
In the larger buildings, for the most part, the dam-
age was confined to faUing ceilings, tiles and copings.
Yet some of the churches fared badly, the Roman
Catholic having an immense hole in the side wall
through which the morning sun shone on the dam-
aged picture of the Virgin.
This little idyllic island, sunning itself in the Ionian
Sea, is held to the larger world by no less than nine
submarine cables, radiating to all points of the com-
pass, south and southeast to Crete and Alexandria,
east to Katakolon and the Peloponnesus, north to
Patras and Athens, northwest to Corfu and Italy,
west to Malta. An island thus guyed by electric
cables could not float away from the sympathies of
THE IONIAN ISLES ^JJ
the world or be left in isolated affliction. No sooner
had the shock of January 31 shaken Zante than
the lightning flashing in these nine cables carried
the news of the devastation to all parts of the civ-
ilized world. Then came the echoes from sympa-
thetic hearts and generous purses. I have never seen
Greece stirred as she was by this event. Politi-
cal feeling runs so high that unity of thought and
feeling and action are sometimes well-nigh impos-
sible. But the whole nation was welded into a
sympathetic whole in the fires of affliction. The
Athenian newspapers at once sent correspondents
to the scene of the disaster, and every day served
up a broadside of telegrams filling several columns.
Earnest, patriotic and humane were their calls for
aid to their unfortunate countrymen. Subscription
lists were opened, and money came pouring in. It
was not a time of financial prosperity in Greece ;
but as soon as the nature of the disaster was fully
known, subscriptions were prompt and abundant.
Athens has many newspapers, and it is evident that
the people read them. Sad as it was to go round
and see the evidences of disaster on this beautiful
island, nothing during my stay in Greece made me
gladder than this proof that the Greek people
are inspired by the spirit of Christian philanthropy.
While some of the subscriptions were imposingly
large, the smaller ones represented even greater sacri-
fice. Clubs, societies, theatres, workingmen's guilds,
school children, corporations and tradesmen all united
their tithes and their endeavors.
The responses from England, France, Germany
and America were equally prompt and generous.
78 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
More immediately urgent than money gifts was the
need of tents and supplies for the homeless and
hungry. In the race to furnish relief England
came in ahead. News of the disaster had been tele-
graphed to London, and thence to Admiral Tryon of
the Mediterranean fleet. It took only a single elec-
tric spark to kindle the humane energy of our Eng-
lish cousins. The English ironclad " Camperdown "
was just going into Malta. Within three hours after
she arrived she was loaded with five hundred large
and one thousand small tents, two marquees, seventy
tons of boards, a large quantity of biscuit, rice, flour,
cocoa, and two thousand blankets. She sailed imme-
diately, under the command of Captain Johnstone,
and arrived at Zante on the third of February. The
same energy displayed in getting the supplies was
shown in distributing them for the relief of the suf-
ferers. The English Jack-tars worked with a hearty
good will in putting up tents. Captain Johnstone
was ubiquitous on horseback, bringing cool judg-
ment as well as warm sympathy to the aid of the
panic-stricken people.
A committee of rehef was at once formed for the
proper distribution of tents and food. It consisted
of the English residents and members of both of the
prominent Greek political parties, with sub-commit-
tees in the villages. Later three Greek men-of-war
arrived with further supplies, and an Italian man-of-
war came on a similar errand of mercy. King George
of Greece and Queen Olga, with the Crown Prince
and Prince Nicolas, arrived in the royal yacht, ac-
companied by the Minister of the Interior.
I joined the king and queen and the rest of the
THE IONIAN ISLES 79
royal party in their tour of inspection. Large throngs
met them at the wharf, and followed them silently
through the streets. At any other time there would
have been great cheering and speechmaking; but
the royal visit seemed a sorrowful pilgrimage to min-
ister to stricken subjects, and there were more tears
than cheers. The king and queen went into churches
and monasteries, but especially into the wrecked
homes, and gave to many poor people that sympathy
which helps to bear trials. The king with his little
yachting cap looked like a naval officer, and the
queen, dressed in deep black, like the Sister of
Charity that she really is. Every one was impressed
with her simplicity and tender kindness.
Students of seismology found interesting material
for study in the earthquakes of 1893. The nine sub-
marine cables converging in Zante pass over known
seismic centres. In all the serious shocks which the
island has sustained since they were laid, the cables
in the path of the earthquake have been broken. In
the great convulsion of the 27th of August, 1886,
which preceded that of Charleston, six miles of the
cable were buried by a landslide on the- bottom of the
sea, which increased the depth from seven hundred
to nine hundred fathoms. The cable was never re-
covered, and another one was laid. A shock having
precisely the same characteristics, without the same
strength, occurred in 1873, and parted the cable six
miles away from Zante. In the catastrophe I have
described the cable was not affected.
Zante is composed of rock surrounded on the
southeast and northwest by a bank of yellow mud,
gradually shelving into forty or fifty fathoms two
8o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
miles away from the shore, when suddenly the lead
drops from three hundred to five hundred fathoms.
That this latter depth is the centre of the earthquakes,
seems probable from the fact that Cephalonia, to the
north, felt no shock; Patras, but a sHght one; Gastouni,
fifteen miles due east from Zante, was shaken severely ;
and Katakolon and Pyrgos, twenty-five miles east and
southeast of the town of Zante, felt the disturbance
strongly, but suffered no damage. The lesser shocks
were not felt elsewhere. The cables tested showed no
increase of sea temperature, which would have oc-
curred if there had been an active volcano. Mr.
Foster, the Zante seismologist, claims that while
earthquakes in Japan and in the vicinity of ^tna
and Hecla are due to volcanic causes, those in this
region are due to mechanical causes. There are evi-
dences of a strong current even at the bottom of the
ocean. Some of the cables have been eaten away by
chemical action. Disintegration is constantly going
on and vast displacements of submarine mountains
occur, burying the cables and causing the tidal waves
which generally accompany an earthquake.
Zante has gradually lost the position it once held
as a commercial town. This is largely owing to the
opening of the railway on the mainland between
Pyrgos and Patras. During the currant season the
city of Zante used to be not only the port for loading
steamers with her own produce, but all the currant-
growing centres on the Arcadian coast sent their
fruit up in caiques to be sold and shipped there,
adding fifty thousand tons to her trade. The people
have been unusually thrifty in days that are past.
From the English they acquired the habit of put-
THE IONIAN ISLES 8 1
ting by something for a rainy day. But owing to
the reduced commercial importance of the island and
an exceptionally bad season, their little savings had
been entirely exhausted and the next year's crop
mortgaged. The misfortune of the earthquake was
thus accentuated by commercial depression. That
explains why many of these hitherto thrifty people
were not able to buy bread.
Ten years ago there began a mania for the pro-
duction of currants, owing to the increased demand
in France for dried fruit to replace the damage done
by the phylloxera. All the good, bad and indifferent
fruit remaining in the country was bought up at fab-
ulous prices by French merchants. The Greeks up-
rooted many of their olive-trees and ruthlessly burnt
some millions of oak and pine trees in order to plant
currants. But France found that the wine produced
was not drinkable, and obtained her supplies else-
where. The result was that two hundred thousand
tons of currants were produced, when there was a
demand for only half the amount. Owing to the
destruction of olives, the quantity of oil produced
was reduced fifty per cent. There is still a demand
for olives; but it will take many years to replace
the trees.
Thus the present outlook for Zante is not a cheerful
one. But the soil is fertile, and were many of these
currant vines uprooted and grains grown instead,
the island, it is claimed by competent authorities,
could well compete for the European market.
II
A BIT OF EXEGESIS
There are some words whose meaning cannot be
learned from the dictionary of a foreign tongue.
They must be learned from life, manners, customs,
scenery, climate. This is especially true of Greece,
whose literature reflects so much of its life. To
travel there is to give one a new conception of
even the commonest w^ords. '' Sun," " sky," " light,"
" moon," " night," mean infinitely more to one after
he has seen the rosy-fingered light of a Greek morn,
the blaze of noon, the glory of a sunset, the wonder-
ful beauty of the star-gemmed heavens at night. No
one who lives habitually under a leaden sky can im-
agine the transparency of the Greek atmosphere.
The scenery of Greece is beautifully reflected in its
language. Mountains, hills, plains, groves and seas
interpret the words which describe them. Greece is
a small country; but if not vast, it is intense. It
is a cameo, beautifully cut. Some words shrink in
size when we have known it, but they do not shrink
in significance. The word '' river " is an exception.
A boy brought up on the banks of the Hudson or
the Mississippi might jump over some of these Greek
rivers without knowing that he had crossed them.
I learned while standing on the shaky soil of Zante
the meaning of one word in Homer. It was worth
coming hundreds of miles to see it unfolded in a
THE IONIAN ISLES 83
beautiful illustration, one of the finest I have seen
in Greece. Homer speaks of Ithaca as *' far-seen,"
" rugged," " rocky." And so it is. Its mountain
shapes are clearly cut in the sky line; and, when
you cross to it from Cephalonia, you see what a
rugged, rocky land it is, without marsh or pasture
except for its browsing goats. You understand per-
fectly what Homer meant when he used these ad-
jectives, and you see how well they fit into the
picture. But there is another phrase not so easily
explained, and I sailed away from Ithaca at night
without knowing what it meant. I refer to Homer's
characterization of it as " low-lying," an adjective
which seems quite inconsistent with the others I have
quoted. But, on climbing the lofty hill of Zante,
crowned with its sturdy Venetian fortress, I discov-
ered, as I looked toward the north, the meaning of
Homer's epithet. The grand, impressive object was
the island of Cephalonia. Its lofty mountain, Aenus,
is the highest in the Ionian islands. So grand is the
swell of its curve, as it rises majestically above the
water, that it looks not like a peak set on a pedestal,
but as if the whole island were a mountain standing
up to its knees in the sea. To the east, on the right
as you look from the south, nestles Ithaca under the
shadow of the greater isle. It is by comparison alone
that it is '' low-lying." Traverse its hills and moun-
tains and you will see how generally accurate is the
description in the Odyssey. View it from Zante, and
the epithet " low-lying " is perfectly explicable. It
does not describe a flat island, but one which is
low only when compared with the snow-crowned
peaks of Cephalonia. This is but another proof
84 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
that the poet was describing a region more or less
familiar.
Homer and the New Testament are a good way
apart, but they are both included in the marvellous
unity of the Greek language. If I learned the mean-
ing of one word of Homer, standing on the hill of
Zante, I felt anew the force of a verse in the New
Testament. It was the doxology to the Lord's Prayer,
" And Thine be the kingdom and the power and
the glory." It was the poiver that first impressed me.
What an immeasurable force had shaken this island
to its foundation ! The prostrate villages, the shat-
tered houses in the city below,, were the melancholy
proof. There is something terrible in the conception
and experience of an energy which in a few sec-
onds can turn a village into a heap of ruins. Yet,
awful as are the destructive forces of Nature, they
are not so grand as those which are constructive.
What mighty Power reared those lofty mountains set
in the bosom of the sea ! Majestic masonry whose
architect was the Eternal ! In a thunder-storm or an
earthquake we are startled by the revelation of amaz-
ing power ; but what a revelation of the silent energy
of Nature is made to us all the time ! It was mani-
fest in the litde flower, in the tender grain growing at
my feet, in the swell of the tide, the breath of the
wind and the glare of the sun. Silently the shadows
moved; but what an unspeakable Energy moved
them ! the Power that turns the world on its axis
and sends it silently whirling on its pathway among
the stars. Compared with this silent energy of
light and shadow, the Zante earthquake seemed
insignificant.
THE IONIAN ISLES 85
The royal yacht of the King of Greece was lying
in the harbor, and a few cables off was the English
war-vessel, the " Camperdown/' which had come so
quickly on its errand of mercy. Not far away lay an
Italian ironclad and two Greek men-of-war, all on the
same gospel mission. Three political kingdoms were
represented by the flags in the harbor. The royal
family of Greece added personality to vague and
abstract conceptions of government. In honor of
the king and queen, the Itahan vessel was gayly
decked with flags. A white puff of smoke from a
port-hole ; and, four seconds afterward, the boom of
the gun reached my ear on the hill-top. Another fol-
lowed, and another, till the full compliment of thunder
had been paid to the sovereign. But to my thought
a kingdom was proclaimed in this suggestive scene
not symbolized by any of the flags. More silently
than the blazing guns, the willing lightning carried
under the ocean the message of sorrow and devas-
tation and the appeal to human brotherhood. Every
one of these great war-vessels, native and foreign,
had come in answer to that appeal. Each one had
brought aid and comfort. What a majestic fulfil-
ment of the prediction that the spear should be
turned into the pruning-hook ! To what nobler ser-
vice can a war-vessel be put than to go on a mission
of philanthropy, bearing bread for the hungry and
shelter for the homeless? The music of that artillery
was the angel song of peace on earth, good will to men.
Each vessel bore the flag of its own kingdom, but also
the invisible banner of the larger kingdom of love and
brotherhood.
And \S\^ glory was not wanting. A wonderful illunii-
86 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
nation of sunlight flooded the landscape. " God said,
Let there be light, and there was light." The snow
on the distant mountains glistened, the sea glimmered,
the rose and the cyclamen displayed their color. In
this surpassing scene of natural beauty the glory of
the Lord was enshrined. But more beautiful than the
outward scene was the conception of the glory revealed
in that Love and Goodness which, joined to Truth and
Beauty, are welling up in the heart of man for the
redemption of the world.
Ill
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA
THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS
I
THE PARTHENON
Athens is the centre of Greece, the Acropolis is
the centre of Athens, and the Parthenon is the centre
of the AcropoHs, I do not mean measured by the
surveyor's chain, but by the highest standards of
human interest. Unless a man is an irreclaimable
Philistine, the Acropolis is the first thing he hastens
to see in Athens, and the last thing he sees when he
takes his leave. And of the temples which crown it,
the Parthenon in all its shattered glory is supreme.
No visitor who has not been side-tracked in pro-
vincialism or ignorance comes to the Parthenon with-
out prepossessions. He has seen it pictured in books
and photographs or modelled in wood and stone. He
has heard it proclaimed as an adorable sanctuary of
religion and art. He knows just what he ought to
see and just how he ought to feel when he sees it.
If he is an American, he recalls not without amuse-
ment the remarkable zeal with which wooden temples
of the Doric order were propagated in his own land,
and applied to every sort of structure, whether town-
hall, church, schoolhouse, or private dwelling, with-
out the slightest regard to utility or fitness. Perhaps
he has an unjust grudge against the Parthenon as
the mother of all these insignificant and solemn cari-
90 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
catures ; but could he think any less of them than
would Pericles himself? I have never forgotten
Wagner's look of disgust when I told him, just be-
fore the first grand representation of his trilogy at
Bayreuth, that some one was going about Germany
circumventing his copyright by playing the music
on a piano. Athens could not copyright the Parthe-
non; and so the rustic imitations we have made of
it have been much like Wagner's wonderful orches-
tration reduced to a piano, or an oratorio played on
a flute. Yet one must not forget that this multiplica-
tion of Grecian temples on American soil was born
of the enthusiasm which the revival of knowledge of
the Parthenon spread in Europe, and which crossed
the ocean and caused the Doric column to impinge
on the primeval forest. It is hard to see how the
conceptions of one who comes with such impressions
as these or with any impressions derived from pic-
tures or models of the Parthenon can help being
heightened when he sees the original, unless he
comes with a too luxurious imagination ; and in that
case I am bold enough to think his imagination is
more likely to be at fault than that embodied in a
temple which Pericles and Phidias and Ictinus and
Callicrates thought worthy of the gods.
Many visitors to Niagara have confessed their
disappointment at the first sight of the great cata-
ract; and Mr. Mahaffy has admitted that even the
Parthenon could not stand the weight of expectation
he had formed in regard to it, though his disappoint-
ment subsequently gave way to sober and enduring
admiration. Too much importance, however, may
be ascribed to first impressions. Few brains can
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 9 1
take an instantaneous view perfect in all its details.
The mind has not had time to get into focus. The
emotions have not had time to rise. The subject
cannot be grasped in its full proportions. The first
impressions of an engraving may be the clearest and
best; but brains are not always so sensitive as paper,
and the process by which great images or ideas are
transferred to them is often like that of the slow,
laborious work by which the engraver cuts a plate.
The only man who can afford to be satisfied with his
first impression of the Parthenon is he who is so un-
fortunate as not to be able to take a second. I have
seen tourists come up in their carriages, remain half
an hour or less, and then go off. They have '* done
the Parthenon," but the Parthenon has not done
much for them. They can say that they have seen
it, and thus secure a little respect in good society,
though even this claim is not true. No one can see
the Parthenon who does not know it, and he cannot
know it without studying it. It is one of those grand
and enduring works whose emotional effect is in-
creased by a knowledge of the intellectual and
aesthetic principles upon which it is constructed,
just as a thorough student of harmony can perceive
relations and enjoy effects not perceptible to an un-
educated ear.
As for myself, I mounted the Acropolis with a joy
which it would be but affectation to conceal. I should
as soon think of measuring the great temple by my
first impression of it as of measuring an oak with an
acorn. Even so far as the mere intellectual use of
vision is concerned, it is impossible for any one pair
of eyes to see at once all of the Parthenon, its struc-
92 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ture, method, and intent. It was more than a cen-
tury and a half after the temple had become known
to the Western world through Spon and Wheler, in
1678, that the curvature was discovered by Penne-
thorne in 1837. There are elements in it which the
eye can discover only when aided by the rule.
The Parthenon is a symphony in stone. It is not
to be grasped in any melodic phrase of construction,
but only in the full, rich harmony of its perfection.
From a study of the whole one is led inevitably to a
study of the parts ; and from a study of the parts he
comes back to a fuller, more perfect conception of
the whole. Alas that gunpowder and vandalism
should have made such inroads upon its beauty!
Though shaken by earthquakes, the tooth of time has
spared it. There is scarcely a wrinkle on its counte-
nance which can be ascribed to age or decay. It
was the divine energy of man that reared it, and the
diabolical energy of man that broke its columns and
architraves and stripped its frieze and pediments of
their treasures. This is the melancholy thought
which forces itself on the visitor. Let the bombard-
ment of the Parthenon be another count in the in-
dictment against the costs and hardships of war.
Though literally '' broken and cast down," the tem-
ple is " not in despair." The drums of many of its
columns are scattered about, and great gaps are left in
the stately row which supported the roof; but there
is a grandness, a solidit}^ a strength, in the ruins
which brook no suggestion of decay. The Parthenon
was young when it was dismembered, and it is young
still. The fallen drums are white and sound to the
core.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 93
One of the elements in the glory of the Parthenon
is the imposing Acropolis on which it stands. Here
is a steep hill of solid rock, rising abruptly from
the plain to a height of two hundred feet. It is a
natural fortification, inaccessible on all sides but
one. It is only about three hundred yards the long-
est way, and about one hundred and twenty-five the
shortest. Yet what spot in Greece contains more
shrines of art or religion or more history to the
square inch carved into or built upon its surface?
There is first the hard, crystalline limestone of
which the hill itself is built, hoary with age and out-
dating and outlasting everything that has been built
upon it. Its summit must have been rough and
jagged when the work was begun of planing it off to
furnish the foundations for the dwelling-place of men
and gods. Athens did not begin on the plain, and
extend to the hill : it began on the hill, and spread
to the plain. This lofty rock was far enough from
the sea to furnish a safe retreat from the depreda-
tions of pirates, and it was easy to fortify it against
attack. Those early dwellers, Pelasgic or other, did
not put up a hedge or a board fence. They erected
walls whose rough, solid masonry still winds its
rugged courses around and over the Acropolis, as it
did centuries before the Parthenon was built. Some
of these walls were buried for ages until the spade of
the excavator revealed them. Others rise stubbornly
in the daylight, as if to dispute with the marble
Propylsea the trophy of permanence. Whatever
myths may float around the heads of these early
dwellers, the walls they built are solid facts, and will
outlast the trivial masonry of our day.
94 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Then there are the traces of the devout spirit of
early Greek occupation. He would be rash who
would let inisty conjectures of how long Athene or
Artemis had been worshipped on this hill harden into
any rigid chronology. It is known that Pisistratus
lived on the Acropolis five centuries and a half be-
fore the Christian era; but other kings and tyrants
had dwelt there before him, and this hill was the
centre of civil and judicial life. That there was an
early temple here to Athene is known, and in 1885
Dorpfeld pointed out its foundations near the Erech-
theum. The temple was destroyed in the Persian
wars, and perhaps rebuilt. Then the conception of
a magnificent temple farther to the right, and cover-
ing vastly more space than the original one, took
shape ; and the foundations were broadly and strongly
laid. They are still there ; and many of the broken
columns of this unfinished temple, which must have
been attempted after the Persian War, are built with
other fragments into the north wall of the Acropolis.
All this before the Parthenon.
When Pericles began it, he built the new temple
as far as possible upon the foundation of the old
one. It was enriched and glorified by the chisel
of Phidias and by the brush of the painter. It was
consecrated to the virgin goddess, and her statue
within it was one of the grandest achievements of
ancient art.
The Parthenon was completed 438 B. c. For six
centuries it stood there as a holy temple of the reli-
gion to which it was dedicated. Then a new religion,
reared on a Hebrew foundation, and with a new virgin
goddess, arose, and in time the Parthenon, under
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 95
Prankish rule, became a Christian church. The
march of religions went on, and Mohammedanism
crossed swords with Christianity. The Turks were
victorious, and the Parthenon was turned into a
mosque and topped with a minaret. Two hundred
years ago the Venetians sought to recover their hold
in Greece. The Turks who held the Acropolis stored
their treasures and their gunpowder in the Parthenon,
just as the Puritans, a little earlier on American soil,
sometimes used their wooden churches for similar
purposes. To the credit of Morosini, the Venetian
commander-in-chief, be it said that he was reluctant
to bombard Athens, but a council of his officers urged
its capture. The Acropolis was the key to the situa-
tion, and a bomb fired by one of his officers fell into
the Parthenon and exploded the magazine, leaving
the building a wreck. The Venetians practically
gained nothing. They left Athens the following year,
and once more a Turkish mosque was built in the
Parthenon.
The next sacrilege was Lord Elgin's rape of
Athene's girdle the beautiful frieze, the pediments
and metopes of her temple, which now enrich the
British Museum but have left the Parthenon dis-
robed. The judgment of the world concerning this
act has been various ; but the English protest has
nowhere been so strongly uttered as by Byron in
flaming poetic curses. When I saw these marbles in
the British Museum, I said, "They are at least safe
here from earthquakes, bombardments, and changes
of weather, and thousands may see them who never
go to Greece." Still, when I came to the Parthenon,
the sense of loss was too great to be satisfied by
96 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
that argument. For the bald fact remains that those
who see the dislocated marbles in the British Mu-
seum do not see them as they were meant to be
seen. It is another illustration of Emerson's " Each
and All," of taking home a shell from the seaside.
Those colossal figures cannot be properly seen close
at hand ; still more, they cannot be appreciated apart
from the grand temple for which they were made, any
more than the Parthenon apart from the Acropolis
on which it stands or from the scenery which sur-
rounds it. They are jewels plucked from a coronet;
and, when you see the crown, you mourn that they
have been torn away.
The temple did not escape bombardment from
Greek guns too, in the hot days of the revolution ;
but which of the cruel wounds that still remain
were made by friends or foes I do not know: the
saddest thing is that they are there.
When one mounts the Acropolis to view the Par-
thenon, the great rock on which it is built seems
to be inseparable from the structure itself. It gives
it an elevation and dignity which it would not have
if put in a hollow or set on a plain. At first the
visitor may want to lay aside every suggestion or
interpolation of later times that comes between him
and the temple of Pericles ; but the tides of history
have left their water-marks, and cannot remain un-
read. He finds himself on this ancient rock brought
into association with centuries older than Pericles, and
with the twenty-four centuries that have followed him.
He ascends the rugged steps which so many feet have
trod, and over which has passed the grandeur of
many a Panathenaic procession. He enters the mag-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 97
nificent gateway of marble, the Propylaea, the noblest
and most elaborate portal ever erected by the wor-
shippers of a Greek deity. He turns to the old
Pelasgic wall, and thinks of the ruder days before
this later splendor. He treads with veneration the
stones which mark the ancient temple of Athene,
and stands where her lofty statue doubtless rose.
The Erechtheum that exquisite romance in marble
and the charming temple of Athene Nike are still
here. The Parthenon rises grandly over all. But
on its cella walls is the faded image of the Virgin
Mary which marks the advent of Christianity, and
here and there the architect may trace the vestiges
of the Byzantine church or the Turkish mosque.
Neither Christianity nor Mohammedanism could add
anything to its material glory; and the Parthenon in
strength and dignity rises calmly superior to the
parasites which assailed its beauty. Elsewhere Chris-
tianity built its own temples with a magnificence sur-
passing that of the Parthenon ; but here on this grand
old rock Athene still is victor, and the glory of her
temple reveals to us the inspiration toward the beau-
tiful and the sublime which lay in the heart of the
Greek religion.
One of the first impressions which the Parthenon
makes, and which it was intended to make, is that
of simplicity, a simplicity combined with strength
and elegance. Here is none of the complexity of
Gothic architecture, no such multiplication of points,
angles, and mere ornament as gives over-elaboration
and richness to the cathedral at Milan. Putting aside
considerations of size and weight, it seems to the
7
98 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
spectator as if it had been an extremely simple
matter to lay these stones one upon another, and
to rear the columns drum upon drum. Here is no
springing arch or swelling dome: mechanically it
seems to be but a glorified, marble log-cabin, retaining
in various details a strong reminiscence of its humble
wooden origin. But when one studies the temple
carefully, he sees what a remarkable combination of
mathematical and mechanical effects was necessary
to produce the grand and simple structure before
him. The architects never forgot the observer's eye.
They wished to produce a certain effect; but, in order
to achieve this in the mind of the spectator, it was
necessary to construct a different building from that
which he thought he saw. Thus the observer thinks
he is looking at a building whose beautiful columns
are perfectly straight from top to bottom. He pre-
sumes that he is looking at a stylobate and steps
built on horizontal lines. He sees no signs of lean-
ing in those strong pillars. Yet, when the temple
has been measured foot by foot, as Penrose mea-
sured it, he finds that he has been looking at a build-
ing whose lines and angles have been softened into
curves so delicate and beautiful that they melt imper-
ceptibly in the observer's eye.
The fact that the end of the building Hes deeper
than the middle was observed before the reason was
discovered. Karl Botticher maintained that this cur-
vature had occurred because the corners of the
foundation had settled. An examination of the foun-
dation showed that the building was set on the solid
rock and that it was impossible for it to sink so many
centimetres. It was maintained by another that it
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 99
was due to earthquakes; for hardly any of the
columns hav,e escaped disturbance of this sort. But
earthquakes do not do their work with mathematical
regularity. It would have been a miraculous con-
vulsion which could have jostled this temple into
curves of beauty. The measuring rod showed that
no part of the building was more perfect in design
than that which had been ascribed to convulsion or
decay.
Every column, instead of being a straight line
from base to neck, tapers towards the top and has a
gentle swell or entasis. So slight is this curve that,
as Penrose truly says, until a comparatively recent
period, the columns were assumed to be perfectly
straight. And what is the object of this curve? It
is '* to correct the optical illusion, which gives an at-
tenuated appearance to columns perfectly straight."
The curvature of the steps is more easily detected.
It will be conveyed to the mind of the reader by the
figure of a bow which is already strung. Set it down
with the string parallel to the floor. The string forms
a horizontal line, while the bow arches above it. Let
the string represent the ground on which the Par-
thenon rests: the curvature of the bow will corre-
spond to the curve of the stylobate and the steps,
which rise gently to the middle, and then slope down
as gently to the other end. Place a hat on the steps
at one end ; go to the other end and get down until
your eye is on a level with the edge of the step, and
then look along it. You will not be able to see the
hat at the other end. The convex rise in the middle
conceals it from view. Yet comparatively few per-
sons when they mount these stairs, suppose that
lOO THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
they are stepping on a curve instead of on a straight
line. Of course, if the columns were set on this con-
vex stylobate without correction, they would not be
perpendicular supports to the roof; they would lean
in opposite directions. To secure perpendicularity
the lower drums of the columns are made higher on
one side than on the other, thus offsetting the curva-
ture of the base. The difference in the height of
the sides is something like eight centimetres. As
the architrave is curved as well as the stylobate, the
same correction in the drums must be made at the
top as well as at the bottom. In addition to their
own entasis, the whole line of columns is made to in-
cline slightly toward the building, so as better to bear
the strain of the roof. Think of the immense amount
of work required to calculate and secure these effects !
It has been conjectured that wooden columns may
have been set up and used as patterns for the marble
ones. By building the columns in sections or drums
the work was easier.
The stylobate is made of great blocks. The steps
on the sides are so high that one has to climb them.
They were made for the eye, not for the feet. In
earlier times when small buildings prevailed, the steps
to the temples were made in a certain proportion to
the columns. When the Parthenon was built this pro-
portion was retained and the blocks were too high for
steps. The same is true of the Zeus Temple at
Olympia, and of others. Small steps were therefore
laid at the entrance between the larger ones. So
when the west end of the Parthenon was made the
entrance for the Byzantine church, small steps had
to be interpolated there also.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA lOI
In Greek temples orientation was of great im-
portance. The axis of the temple pointed to the
rising sun. The main door was to the east, so that
when it was opened on the high festal day of the
goddess, the sun would shine into the temple. Pen-
rose and Lockyer have supported this view by
astronomical calculations.
Greek architecture must be seen in the joyous light
of a Greek sky. The problem, still inviting discussion,
as to how the Doric temple was lighted is not so
difficult of solution when the temple is set, like the
Parthenon upon the Acropolis, upon lofty heights
or open plains. Set it in the forest or surround it
with heavy shade-trees, as some of the stately old man-
sions in our own country, which, unhappily, imitated
the Greek style, and the effect is solemn and gloomy
enough. But in Greece the flood of sunlight through
a clear atmosphere is so intense that, when it falls
upon a building of Pentelic marble like the Parthe-
non, the glare is too strong for weak eyes. The
whole building is suffused with a glory which must
have brilliantly illuminated its colored triglyphs and
sculptured pediments.
What of the inside? Shall we maintain with
Fergusson that it was lighted from the top, or with
Dorpfeld that it was lighted only through the great
door which was opened on festal days? In support
of the latter view the point has been made, with
great truth, that the penetrating power of light in
Greece is so great that through a large door enough
light would enter to reveal in mystic grandeur the
colossal statue of Athene in the Parthenon or the
102 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
equally great statue of Zeus in the temple at Olym-
pia. It is argued also that the Greeks did not want
in their house of God anything but a " dim religious
light ; " and an American architect has sought to
show that lamps were used in these solemn temples.
The great size of the door in the pronaos, some
fifteen feet broad and thirty feet high, supports
the theory that it was used for lighting the interior.
There was a smaller door by which the priests might
enter.
Karl Botticher has advanced the theory that the
Parthenon \vas not really a sanctuary, but a treasure
house. The slight architectural reasons presented
for this bold conjecture have been examined in de-
tail and refuted by Dorpfeld. Their force can only
be fully appreciated by those who are fortunate
enough to see the building under Dr. Dorpfeld's guid-
ance, and trace with him its history revealed in
clamps, tool marks, the circles on vv^hich missing col-
umns once stood and the grooves described by hinged
doors. The changes made in the Parthenon by its
adaptation to Byzantine worship render complex and
difficult the task of distinguishing in the interior be-
tween the original and the adapted structure. It
is in just such a task that Dr. Dorpfeld's architectural
knowledge and rare powers of observation find their
opportunity. An Hellenic clamp, a tool mark or a
tell-tale circle may show the age of a stone and the
use that was made of it as clearly as if the workman
had written it in words.
But I cannot linger on the artistic and mechanical
details of this wonderful temple of worship. For the
last hundred years our knowledge of it has been con-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA IO3
tinually increasing, and wc cannot be sure that we
know all its secrets or even all it was intended to
reveal. There is one spot in it of peculiar interest.
It is the space nearly in the centre of the building
where the remains of a strong foundation of poros
stone and a square slot in the middle reveal, un-
doubtedly, the spot where stood the famous statue of
Athene wrought by Phidias, on a frame of wood,
and covered with ivory and gold. How wonderful
was the influence on the Greek mind of this con-
ception of the virgin goddess, and how remarkable
its influence on the western mind when it passed
into Christianity ! Athene, as pictured by Homer,
is a grand and beautiful conception. In the earliest
forms in which men undertook to paint or mould
with the hand that which floated as a vision in the
brain, we are struck by the great chasm between that
which they aimed at and that which they achieved.
The literary conception was high, the artistic product
low. But gradually this ideal of the divinity of the
intellect, embodied in the form of a woman, and
radiating, too, into gracious charms of sentiment and
beneficence, took possession of the eye and hand of
the artist as well as of the song of the minstrel ; and
by and by, yet as early as the fifth century before
Christ, art rose to the level of literature, and bloomed
in the perfect flower of the Parthenon and the won-
drous art of Phidias which adorned it.
The influence of this Greek idea did not stop here.
In the fifth century A. D. the Parthenon became the
temple of Saint Sophia, and a few centuries later
it was transformed into the church of the Virgin
Mary. Like Paganism, Christianity could not be
104 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
contented with a purely masculine deity. Athene,
excluded from her temple, revenged herself by re-ap-
pearing in a new guise and with new functions. If
the later Christian homage to a virgin met a need of
the human heart, who shall say that that rendered to
the Greek virgin was not as sincere and inspiring?
The best time to see the Parthenon is at sunset or
under the silver light of the full moon. The tones
of the building, weather-stained by centuries, seem
richer and deeper in the sunset glow; and the temple
fits beautifully into the illumined landscape. Take
your stand at the southwest corner of the temple
of Nike. Below you lies the theatre of Herodes
Atticus, a little to the right the hill of Philopappus,
still farther Observatory Hill, the Areopagus, the
Pnyx, and the stately Theseion. In the plains the
fresh green barley alternates with olive groves and
brown furrowed fields. To the left stretches the
Bay of Phaleron, opening to the larger sea. Piraeus
lies beyond. Here is the island of Salamis, there
^gina. The coast of Attica fades into the dis-
tance. Walking to the other end of the Acropolis,
we see below the new Athens, the royal palace and
garden, and steep Lycabettus rising abruptly from the
plain. The whole view is framed in by sea and
mountain, Pentelicus, from whose bosom came the
milk-white curdled marble with which these temples
were reared, Parnes, ^galeos, the pass of Daphne,
and, most familiar of all, the long ridge of Hymettus.
How the sinking sun seems to fondle it, and how
softly the mutable colors play over it, gold and
violet and red, melting its hard, rocky surface into
or THE
UNIYERS,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA I05
geniality and beauty ! In this sunset glow the Parthe-
non, the magnificent Propylaea, the Erechtheum, and
the bewitching temple of Nike are gilded with super-
natural light, as if the sun loved to heighten their
beauty. And, when the moon rises and in the deep
silence silvers the old rock and the temples upon
it, you forget the things of to-day ; and in the witch-
ery of the moonlight- Athene seems to come once
more to claim her holy place, and you are a willing
worshipper at her shrine.
THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS
II
THE PROPYL^A
Whether it be a great book, a great symphony,
a great opera, or a great temple, it is possible to
heighten the effect and the expectation by a great
introduction. So Gibbon wrote the introduction to
his history nine times; so Beethoven wrote and re-
wrote his overture to *' Leonore ; " so Wagner scored
his marvellous overture to *' Tannhauser " and his
dreamy Vorspiel to " Parsival." Thus the evangelists
wrote the mystic proem to John and the poetic pre-
lude to St. Luke. So, too, Pericles inspired the
marble proem to the Parthenon.
The Propylaea, as its simple name implies (ivpo'irv-
\aia, the part before the gates), is a prelude, a Vor-
spiel, an overture in stone. It was built on the rocky
slope of the Acropolis and constituted one of the
grandest approaches to a temple ever reared.
In this matter some of the greatest cathedrals of
England and the Continent are sadly lacking. The
approach to St. Peter's diminishes rather than height-
ens the effect. St. Paul's, London, is set within
the busy mart; Lincoln and Ely are hedged in
by other buildings; Cologne needs twice as much
room. Salisbury is one of the few English cathe-
drals which, set within the beautiful close of Sarum,
preserves with leisurely greensward and a fine colon-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA IO7
nade of trees a fitting prelude. Our own Capitol
at Washington, crowning a genial acropolis, has also
a worthy approach.
The Acropolis of Athens, though its summit was
levelled and its surface extended, was too small
for a great esplanade. The Propylaea placed on the
top would have concealed or diminished the Parthe-
non ; but it could be built on the stern slope of the
rock in spite of the great difficulties encountered.
This was not the first time that such an undertaking
had been successfully attempted. The student who
has leisure to study the Propylaea finds it suggestive
of both history and prophecy. The whole Acropolis,
indeed, is a pahmpsest of stone full of riddles and
revelations. If you question this magnificent portico,
it will tell you four things at least, first, that there
was an older Propylaea here before the Persian de-
scent upon Athens ; secondly, that after its destruction
by the Persians it was restored ; thirdly, that under
Pericles a new and grander structure was raised ; and
fourthly, that the architect did not complete the work
according to his original intention, but was obliged to
finish it provisionally in such a way as not to sacrifice
his more perfect plan.
Only one of these things is immediately obvious
to the traveller, the building he sees before him ;
the others must be painstakingly sought out. To
understand what is above the surface, you must go
below it. As the Parthenon does not wholly efface
the piety and labor which were wrought into the
temples which preceded it, so the Propylaea does
not wholly conceal the foundations of the building
which was reared and sacrificed before it was con-
I08 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ceived. Fresh, vital, and imposing as is the later
structure, it is also full of reminiscence.
We know, to begin with, that here on the top of the
slope of the Athenian Acropolis in early times was a
tower or building ; not a military defence, but a gate-
way such as Pericles erected. We can see how the
marble was worked in this pre-Persian time, how
large were the squares of stone. It was built in a
grand way. We can see the external side of the
old building; we can sec the course of the protect-
ing wall and how the old Cyclopean walls were
hidden with marble. Then we see how in the post-
Persian times Themistocles or some one else had re-
stored the ancient structure and covered it so as not
to show what it had suffered.
As the old Propylsea was made a fitting introduc-
tion to the old temple on the Acropolis, so Pericles
determined that the new building should be a suitable
approach to the new temple. The Parthenon had
been finished a year (438 B. C.) before the Propylaea
was begun. It is hard to believe that so much as we
see was built in five years. The lines of the new
Propylaea deflect somewhat from the old. One can see
the inner side of the wall of the earlier building and
trace its direction, which was adapted to the old way
up the Acropolis. One understands, too, why the
Propylaea of Pericles was turned so as to harmonize
with the position of the Parthenon.
The Propylaea is built of Pentelic marble. It con-
sists of a great central wall in which are five doors or
openings, approached through Doric and Ionic colon-
nades, while two great wings flanking the entrance
formed large halls designed for paintings. The archi-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 109
tectural difficulties of building such a structure at dif-
ferent elevations on the upper side of this rock were
great indeed, and the mechanical difficulties of hand-
ling the vast blocks of marble in beam and architrave
would not seem light to a modern builder if his supply
of steam or electricity were cut offi The Greeks must
have known how to make cranes before they built
temples. That they knew, too, how to put stones to-
gether, the wall on the south side of the Propylaea
well attests. Although earthquakes and explosions
have shattered the building and thrown down many
of its columns, the joining of the blocks in this wall
is so perfect that the seams can scarcely be felt as
you run your hand up and down the smooth white
marble.
An interesting feature of the Propylaea, as of the Par-
thenon, is its persistent reminiscence of the wooden
structure, especially in the doors and doorways.
There are cuttings in the wall which seem to indi-
cate the fastening of a wooden door. Panels are also
cut into the marble in a way that would be meaning-
less in a stone building except as they show how a
plank could be set in and held against springing.
Wooden doors and door-jambs could thus have been
used. But in some cases it is merely servile imita-
tion, as when the architect in some of his pilasters
imitates literally the upright wooden plank at the end
of a wall, whereas, if less hampered by traditional
forms, he might have made something more beautiful.
Dr. Dorpfeld, who has shown in detail this repetition
and imitation of the wooden structure, finds in it a
proof of the essential conservatism of architecture.
The large hall on the northwest wing we can easily
no THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
believe was adorned with paintings. There are signs
of nail-holes where the corners of the stones come
together, but we cannot be sure that they were not
made in later times. The walls themselves may have
been frescoed.
It is a question whether the exterior of the
building was painted. There are indications that
not the whole but parts of it were thus treated.
Some of the triglyphs are of poros stone. We can-
not suppose that this cheaper stone would be used
in a prominent and exposed position in a marble
building. That is contrary to Greek usage and ex-
ample. It might have been used, however, if it were
covered with stucco and painted. So long as wood
prevailed in marble buildings for beams and other
purposes it was painted ; and, when afterward the
marble structure imitated the wooden form in which
it had its origin, it was still natural to decorate
the same parts. Thus the triglyphs representing the
ends of the beams were colored, and also the drops.
In later times, therefore, portions of the building
which were to be painted could be made out of poros
instead of more costly marble. Why should not the
gods, who see everywhere, approve such pious econ-
omy? At Olympia, for instance, there was no Pen-
telic marble, nothing but a quarry of coarse shell
conglomerate. When the great temples which gave
renown to that place were built, this conglomerate
was covered with white stucco, which gave it the
appearance of marble. Such a veneer the gods
could not disdain.
Grand as was the Propylaea, there is evidence that
the plan of the architect was still grander. The
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA m
southwest wing was evidently intended, when the
plans were drawn, to be as large as the northwest wing.
Mnesicles had laid it out without perhaps consider-
ing how far it would interfere with monuments and
offerings already in existence and thus encounter
conservative or priestly opposition. When this op-
position was aroused he was therefore obliged to
finish it off in a provisional way. He assumed, how-
ever, that its final completion was only a matter of time
and so finished it in a manner that would not interfere
with his plan when work was resumed. This is hinted
in the character of the pilaster at the end of the
southwest wing. It was evidently set up so that later
it might bear an architrave, like the pilaster on the
opposite wing. This was the architect's expectation.
One of the columns was left unfinished at the bot-
tom, to be '' worked off," as the artisan's habit was,
after the upper part was completed.
Pericles and his architect at this south side of the
building probably ran against two rather hard ob-
stacles : one the old Cyclopean wall which crossed
the hill at this point, the other the indurated preju-
dice of the priests. Both were made of traditional
material, and of the two the religious prejudice was
no doubt the more stubborn.
The architect temporarily accommodated himself
to both. The wall of the wing was cut off sharp
where it met the Cyclopean wall. We can easily
imagine the arguments the priests advanced against
extending this building so as to interfere with estab-
lished monuments and sacred precincts. We meet
the same arguments to-day against the introduction
of new and more beautiful and equally devout ideas,
112 THE TSLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
whether framed in words or in marble. But the same
reverent conservatism, more intelHgent and clear-
eyed, has also protected us against inroads of vandal-
ism and hideous innovations in art and religion.
Dr. Ddrpfeld has developed, with fascinating proba-
bility, the thought of the architect not only in regard
to this southwest wing, but concerning a larger plan
for the whole structure. As you go around to the
external wall of the north wing, where it stands ex-
posed towards the east, you see a cornice or frieze
on the outside that was obviously intended for the
interior of a room. In the middle there is a square
hole in the upper wall, for a beam or stringer.
There is a corresponding hole on the south side.
These and other prophetic details indicate that a hall
as large as that of the northwest wing was to flank
the gateway and fill out the corner on the northeast.
Symmetry would require another room to fill out the
southeast corner, and thus the great central gateway
would have been flanked by two large halls on each
side, filled with votive paintings. That would have
meant a partial encroachment on the sacred precincts
of Artemis Brauronia, and undoubtedly the removal
of some of the statues which Pausanias mentions.
Though noble in intention and execution, the Pro-
pylsea is distinguished, too, by a fitting humility;
the roof rises no higher than the stylobate of the
Parthenon. It was built in subordination to the
building for which it was the prelude. It was made
not to dwarf or darken the supreme temple, but to
lead up to it. The Propylaea is the beautiful frontlet
on the stern brow of the Acropolis, the Parthenon
is still the crown of Athene's holy hill.
NIKE BINDING HER SANDAL.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA II3
Close to the south wing of the Propylaea, and
involved with it in questions of structure and chrono-
logical precedence, is the beautiful little Temple of
Athene Nike, or the '' Wingless Victory," as it is com-
monly and less accurately called. This temple is
so small that it might be put into a corner of the
Parthenon. It is only eighteen feet wide and twenty-
seven feet long ; and its Ionic columns are but thir-
teen and one-quarter feet high. It was removed from
the corner of the Acropolis to make place for a
Turkish battery ; but afterwards the scattered blocks
of the temple were found and laid up again by loving
hands, so that we have substantially the original
building, though we cannot fully reconstruct with
the imagination the beautiful friezes which once
adorned it. Some of the exquisite reliefs from the
balustrade are in the Acropolis Museum, and among
them the cow led by two Victories, and the graceful,
airy Victory assumed to be binding her sandal,
though ladies of our party insisted that a sandal
could not be fastened with one hand, and that she
was probably untying or adjusting it.
If the Parthenon is grand, the Erechtheum is
poetic. The Parthenon reveals the nobility of the
Doric order; the Erechtheum, the beauty and grace
of the Ionic. Who has not seen pictures or repro-
ductions of the stately Caryatides? Lord Elgin kid-
napped one of them, but it has been restored in
terra-cotta. Another mutilated member of the sex-
tette has been pieced out, so that the original im-
pression of these six Grecian maidens supporting the
roof of the temple-porch is substantially renewed
for the spectator. When I see them, I recall the
8
114 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
strong, beautiful peasant girls of Gastouri in Corfu,
who walked with their jars of water on their heads, as
if they were entirely unconscious of the burden. So
these *' Maidens of the Porch " hold up the entablature
with perfect grace and ease, as if they hardly knew it
was there.
The Erechtheum is a gem of refinement and deli-
cacy. It was set on the most sacred site of the
Acropolis, the spot where tradition places the famous
contest between Athene and Poseidon for supremacy
at Athens. We know more about this old legend than
about many features of the exquisite building whose
architectural details repay a careful study. It is inter-
esting to have a Doric and an Ionic temple confront-
ing each other. They were consecrated to the same
deity, but as they represented different orders of ar-
chitecture, so likewise there may have been a trace of
** denominational" difference in their worship, or they
may have fulfilled different functions. Was it on
theological grounds that Cleomenes, the king of
Sparta, Dorian we may suppose to the backbone,
was refused admission to the Ionic shrine? Or
had local and poHtical differences more to do with
it? Just what was the relation of the Erechtheum to
the Parthenon is a subject still under discussion.^
Like the Parthenon, the Erechtheum was used later
as a Christian church. By the irony of fate the beauti-
1 In a lecture given at the American School of Classical Studies,
Athens, March i, 1894, Professor John Williams White, of Harvard
University, reviewed in detail the evidence from Greek authors and
inscriptions concerning the meaning of "The Opisthodomos at the
Acropolis at Athens," and reached the conclusion that 6 6Tri(T(>6SoiJ.os,
without further designation, refers not to a part of the Parthenon but
to a separate building.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA II5
ful *' Maidens of the Porch " were doomed also to sup-
port the Turkish harem into which a portion of the
temple was converted. But centuries of service, cen-
turies of enforced publicity, have not bent their forms,
reduced their vigor, nor divested them of maidenly
grace and charm. And down there in the lower city
I can show you Greek maids and matrons who are
to-day heroically, gracefully and strongly upholding
the architrave of public duty; who are bearing with
patriotic courage burdens which disaster and war have
brought upon the home and the state, yet who have
lost no womanly grace or serenity in fulfilling the
tasks they have so cheerfully assumed. The strong
maidens of the Upper City have come down to the
plain.
THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS
in
" Master, behold what manner of stones and what
manner of buildings ! " were the words of one of the
disciples to Jesus as they came out of the temple ;
and Josephus has told us how great some of the
stones of the Jewish temple were. It is interesting
right in the midst of the Gospel record to find this
note of astonishment and admiration evoked by the
grand and beautiful in art. The more I climbed the
Acropolis the more I repeated the exclamation of
the wondering disciple at Jerusalem, " Behold what
manner of stones and what manner of buildings ! '*
Where too can one find more eloquent fragments ?
Is there any place where stones have more secrets to
tell to one who takes pains to study their language ?
As we came from the Parthenon one afternoon.
Dr. Dorpfeld called our attention to the large drum
of a column which lay near by. It had been rejected
by the architect because it was not true. We know
that in the building of one of the temples it was ex-
pressly stipulated that all stones should be inspected
by the chief architect and those that were not perfect
should be thrown out. Under this alert inspection no
careless or slovenly contractor could have his bill
audited for imperfect work ; the rejected stone could
not become the head of the corner, nor find a place
anywhere else in the building. For centuries this
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 11/
drum has lain there as a rebuke to imperfection and
a mute witness to the vigilance and fidelity of the
architect.
Few stones here seem to have forgotten their
history. Most of them can tell us what they did or
were meant to do. It is curious how the master
architect can reconstruct an ancient building from a
mass of stones and fragments as the master zoologist
can reframe an extinct animal from a heap of bones.
Some of these fragments still preserve organized rela-
tions. They lie together imbedded in the rock just
where they were placed. From such a ground plan,
broken though it is in continuity and design, Dorp-
feld has derived the site, form and dimensions of a
temple, older than the Parthenon and the Erechtheum
and lying between them. It was possibly for a long
time the only temple on the Acropolis. Pausanias
mentions the temple of Athene Polias as standing at
the time of his visit, perhaps about 175 A.D., and
as containing a statue of Hermes, almost hidden by
myrtle leaves, a folding chair, the work of Daedalus,
and spoils taken from the Persians. This old temple
had been partially destroyed by the Persians at the
same time with the old Erechtheum ; the walls had
undoubtedly been left standing and it was in all
probability promptly rebuilt by the Athenians. The
Parthenon was not finished till some years later, and
we cannot suppose that Athene was without a temple
on the Acropolis in the mean time. There are still
many questions under dispute concerning the age,
name and functions of this temple, and among them
whether Athene Ergane Athene as patroness of art
and invention was worshipped under that aspect in
Il8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
this assumed temple of Athene PoHas, or whether, as
some maintain, a separate building dedicated to her
in this character was erected in another precinct. No
trace of such temple, at all events, has been found.
Of the many statues on the Acropolis mentioned
by Pausanias, the pedestals of some have been identi-
fied and the position of others may be conjectured
Not far to the left of the way from the Propylsea to
the Parthenon was the pedestal of the great statue
of Athene Promachos, made by Phidias from Persian
spoil. The goddess in war vesture stood with her
spear in poise. The statue was no doubt colossal, for
Pausanias tells us that one could descry the spear-
head and helmet crest as he sailed from Sunium to
Athens. This type of Athene is a familiar one,
often reproduced in small bronze figures, which are
not necessarily replicas of the statue of Phidias, but
older representations of a generic conception of the
goddess as defender and protector.
The Acropolis, consecrated to religion and the
State, reveals few traces of the earlier days when it
served as the abode of man. Not far from the
Erechtheum, however, an old house wall has been
brought to light. In the vicinity are a large number
of roof tiles of pre-Persian date, which seem to be as
fresh as if made to-day. The building, whatever it
was, for which they were used, was probably erected
only a short time before the Persian War, and when
it was destroyed these bricks or tiles were buried, and
so preserved. In this heap of tiles we have material
for a whole chapter on ancient roofs. It is easy to
distinguish between the flat ones and those evidently
intended for roofing. In ancient times house-tops
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA II9
were covered with earth. This is well established
from a study of the older temples. The construc-
tion of the roof of the Doric temple was a hard
problem at first for those who maintained the deri-
vation of the Doric style from the wooden structure.
It could not be explained by any device or applica-
tion of stone. Then it was seen that originally the
roof was partly wood and partly clay. The heavy
mass of earth required beams of great strength.
When they were imitated in stone they were at first
made ponderous, afterwards much lighter. With
earthen roofs it was desirable of course to have a
sufficient fall to shed the rain. If the pitch was too
great the earth was washed off. This led to the in-
troduction of terra-cotta tiles, which would allow a
steeper incline ; they were for the most part bent or
curved, the better to carry off the water. The intro-
duction of marble roofing dates from a much later
time.
The Acropolis, as I have before intimated, was
not a plateau to begin with ; the summit had more or
less pitch. An old Pelasgic or Cyclopean wall of
large unwrought stones formed a defensive barrier.
When afterwards, in the fifth century before Christ,
it was determined to level the rock, the space between
the external wall and the summit had to be filled in.
For this purpose many scattered fragments were used ;
bases of statues, broken columns, pieces of sculpture
and everything else obtainable, were thrown in. Thus
the forward-looking Athenians builded better than
they knew; for things which had ceased to be inter-
esting to them have proved to be very interesting to
us when upturned by the archaeologist's spade.
120 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
On the north side, not far from the Erechtheum,
were unearthed votive statues which had been burned
or thrown down by the Persians. These bronzes,
statues, toys, terra-cotta figures and other things
brought to Ught by the excavations on the Acrop-
oHs, are now housed in the Museum there. They
furnish interesting material for a comparison of
pre-Persian with later Greek art. Here are rude
representations of Athene and other gods in which
the stone serves rather to imprison the divine con-
ception than to give it freedom. This may be
due less to poverty of conception than to imperfect
execution; it was the sculptor feeling after God if
haply he might find him. Here are sitting figures
which may be either goddesses or women; this
ambiguity is not uncommon or unnatural in an an-
thropomorphic system. The Greeks did not pro-
fess to know always a god from a man. Some label
was necessary, not always the name label, but the
indication of some attribute. The aegis of Athene
hung on her breast was enough to say, " Be rever-
ent: I am a goddess." These may have been toys,
they may have been symbols of worship put into
the graves. As such some of them certainly would
have furnished new material for the sarcasm of Isaiah.
They are indications perhaps of religious feeling six
hundred years before Christ. As Athene was the
principal goddess worshipped on the Acropolis, these
little archaic terra-cottas may have been votive offer-
ings at her shrine. Undoubtedly the manufacturers
made them by the wholesale and sold them at a profit.
They were made with suflRcient indefiniteness to suit
a number of gods. The reverent purchaser when he
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 121
bought one to his liking may have considered it
Athene or some other divinity.
The only deity besides Athene known to have
been worshipped on the Acropolis was Artemis. A
sitting; figure with a deer on her arm is without
doubt a symbol of this goddess. Attention has been
drawn to the relation of these images to some found
at Corfu with bow in hand, which likewise take us
back to pre-Persian times, to the fifth or sixth cen-
tury before Christ. The modern drill sergeant who
exhorts his recruits to step off with the left foot at
the word " march " may find abundant precedent in
the standing figures in the Acropolis Museum in
which, as in Egyptian statues, the left foot is ad-
vanced. In one sculpture Athene is mounting a
chariot with the owl in one corner ; in another, the
goddess is vain enough to wear earrings.
Of unusual interest are the fourteen archaic busts
and torsos found near the north wall of the Acropolis,
which still preserve for us the complacent, imperturb-
able smile they have worn since the days before the
Persian invasion. Are they women or goddesses?
If they were intended for Athene herself, she was
shorn of all her attributes. Here is neither helmet,
spear, owl, gorgoneion, nor any divine sign or label
by which to establish her godhead. In the period
when these were made, the attributes and insignia of
the goddess were familiar and well developed. The
probability therefore is that they stand for mortal
women and were votive offerings. That is clear from
dedicatory inscriptions which have been found, though
detached from the statues. These inscriptions show
that the givers were in most cases men. The marbles
122 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
cannot then represent the persons who dedicate them.
One inscription is described as " tantalizing in its just
faiHng to explain what we want to know." It seems
to have belonged to a statue of this kind, although
the pedestal does not make that certain. The in-
scription indicates that a lucky fisherman has made
a big haul and set aside some of the profits of his
catch for a votive offering. But the statue is simply
called a Kovprj, a maiden. That is all we know
about it. Whether it was a likeness of his mother,
his sister, his cousin or his aunt, he does not tell us.
This goes to show that these smirking statues were
not individual portraits, but rather a conventional
type of maidenhood dedicated to Athene. How it
was that a maiden statue was offered to Athene some
experts are not ready to say. I do not venture an
explanation against their prudent agnosticism ; but as
Athene was herself a grey-eyed maid, the patroness
of the arts of peace, in whose honor the Athenian
maids embroidered the peplos for the Panathehaic
procession, the dedication of a maiden statue does
not seem inappropriate at the shrine of the virgin
goddess. These pleasant women of the Acropolis
have an importance worthy of their sex in the light
they throw upon early Greek costumes.
A boy's head in marble, in this collection, shows
fresh emancipation of artistic skill and but a quaint
reminiscence of the old formalism. *' It is the prom-
ise and potency of things to be," said a friend, " which
appeal to us, together with the refined beauty of
form and the pensive expression."
The beautiful mural tablet of the so called "Mourn-
ing Athene " which was found built into a wall inside
THE MOURNING ATHENE.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 123
the ancient Parthenon, presents the goddess in a less
famihar attitude. It is not known exactly when the
wall was built, so we cannot infer the date of the
relief from that. It is of Pentelic marble and shows
Athene standing in front of a stele, or grave monu-
ment. She leans forward, apparently resting on her
spear, her weight on her right foot, and the left just
touching the ground. As the marble has been
chipped we cannot tell whether her spear is re-
versed or not. She wears a long Doric chiton and
a Corinthian helmet; the head is represented in
profile.
Three theories have been presented as to the sig^
nificance of this tablet. One is that Athene is here
the guardian of the Acropolis, a view which
has little support. The second supposes that the
goddess is mourning over a stele on which are en-
graved the names of those fallen in battle. The
third conceives her as guardian of a stele on which
a law is engraved, depicting her thus as the pro-
tector of the law. I cannot myself escape from the
mournful expression of the face. To be sure the
gods have reason enough in these days to be mourn-
ful over bad laws, but knowing Athene as I do, I am
convinced that anger, not grief, would have been
the result of asking her to guard a bad law, and we
should have had a broken tablet, recalling the one
which Moses in his wrath let fall on the mount. The
advocates of the third theory explain the sad face
of the goddess by saying that it is a type charac-
terizing the reaction against the smile which, though
a relief from early formalism, had been overdone.
As to the pose, they maintain that other statues
124 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
which do not suggest grief have similar attitudes, and
that no conclusion can be drawn from it.
If I speak last of the twenty-two slabs of the Par-
thenon frieze it is because they should be the climax
in any scale of life and beauty of the art treasures
on the Acropolis ; and if I speak of them less, it is
because they are probably most familiar to my read-
ers. Even more than the grouping of the gods on
the frieze do I enjoy the apotheosis of the cavalry
procession. When before or since have horses been
summoned out of stone into more Hfe, freedom,
strength and variety pf motion, or riders invested
with more grace and beauty? When the bicycle, the
horseless carriage, the electric car and the locomo-
tive shall have wrought their last mechanical ravage
and made the horse as extinct as the dodo, the
Parthenon frieze, if it has not crumbled into dust,
will be his most perfect epitaph.
Old as are the temples made by hands and dedi-
cated to Athene on the Acropolis, there are still
older shrines. The grottoes of Apollo and of Pan
on the north side of the hill recall the time when
nature worship, from which much of the later my-
thology was derived, found its sanctuary in rocks and
caves, springs and groves. The consecrated mag-
nificence of later temples did not extinguish this tra-
ditional feeling. Votive offerings were made at these
nature shrines. On the same side of the rock, and
not far from the grottoes of Pan and Apollo, was the
ancient well, Clepsydra. The spring which feeds it is
still flowing; though lost for a time, in the revolution
of 1822 the Greeks rediscovered it and drank of its
water as their remote ancestors had done. Was it in
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 25
rivalry of pagan devotion, or because something of
the old pagan mystery or nature love was preserved
in Greek Christianity that a Byzantine chapel with its
painted saints was set in this hollow of the rock, as
on the south-side grotto of the Acropolis a votive
lamp is kept burning for an obscure Christian saint?
Like the water from this celebrated spring, the old is
perpetually bubbling up into the new ; Christianity
still feeds its baptismal fonts from pagan springs.
It Is time to go down from the consecrated rock.
Greece is more than Athens and Athens is more than
the Acropolis. But how much of Greece, the old and
the new, is here ! Where can one find so large a
panorama of history painted on so small a canvas?
The mountains, the isles and the sea have their story
to tell, and the sun will set for you to-day with as
much beauty as it set for Pericles, but it will light up
for you a picture that Pericles could not see. You
can look down the long vista of Greek life. You
can see the birth and growth of a religion. It takes
refuge in the rocks and groves and streams; its ex-
panding life struggles to utter itself in forms of beauty
and grandeur. How rude and pitiful its first efforts !
It shapes the clay into conventional moulds. But its
genius finds new liberation, and with grace, beauty
and rising apostrophes of form and color wrought in
snowy marble, incarnates its vision of Eternal Beauty.
If you look at these melodies of curve with the eye
only, you will miss half their significance. To us they
are studies in artistic form and feeling ; to those who
wrought them they were a part of their religion.
Again, you may see the drama of history and life
126 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
which for centuries was acted on the slope and on
the plain and then rewoven into the civilization and
destiny of Europe. This Cyclopean wall rebuilds for
you the ruder life of a primitive age with its piracy
and pillage, the foundation of the citadel of Athens,
mythical and half-mythical figures floating before you
in mists of tradition, Cecrops, Erechtheus, Pan-
dion, Theseus. Out of social chaos and tribal con-
flict come organized society law and law-makers,
Draco and Solon. The long strife for liberty, for
democratic self-government, for federal unity, begins
with the Greek struggle foi; nationality still continued
to our day. We turn toward Marathon and Salamis
and see brave little Athens staying the tide of Persian
invasion and winning for Europe and for all time the
victory it had won for Greece.
The Cyclopean wall builders have gone, but the
intellectual power of Themistocles is perpetuated in
the Long Walls which stretch to the Piraeus and
bind Athens to the sea. The Acropolis, once a
fortress, is turned into a sanctuary. Pericles and
Phidias in the efflorescence of genius reveal the
golden age. Beauty blossoms not alone in marble,
but in literature, in tragedy, comedy, philosophy,
poetry and song. Down there to the left vast and
delighted audiences listen to the tragedies of Sopho-
cles and Euripides or laugh at the telling comedies
of Aristophanes. Off to the north, looking down
from the hill, is Colonus, the home of Sophocles,
and near to it the leafy grove of Academos, whose
name by the fortune of history has become forever
linked with science and education. Here Plato un-
folds the lofty scheme of his ethics and philosophy.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 12/
This Athenian Mount of Olives has also its cross
and its Golgotha. Below in the market-place
Socrates teaches lessons of life and happiness, point-
ing sometimes to this precipitous rock with its two
roads, one of which could be chmbed with difficulty,
while the other, a broader, winding way, could be
trod with ease. His prison may not have been in
the rocky chamber to which tradition assigns it, but
the name and the place perpetuate the memory of
his witness to the truth, and sadly remind us that
paganism like Christianity had its martyrs, and that
Athens like Jerusalem was a slayer of prophets.
The voice of Demosthenes from the old bema pro-
claims a new danger to Greek liberty. The Arch of
Hadrian, the Odeion, the Tower of the Winds, the
Temple of Olympian Zeus, and far away the monu-
ment of Philopappos, show how Rome the conqueror
sat at the feet of Athens.
Over against the rocky Acropolis stands the rocky
Areopagus, where Paul gives his famous address to
the crowd which gathers round him. Paganism and
Christianity on these two rocks face each other. ** I
perceive that in all things you are very mindful of
the gods," says the preacher, looking at the forest of
statues and the beautiful temples and recalling the
altar to the Unknown God. Who among the crowd
at his feet dreams that the Gospel of " this vain bab-
bler " shall find its swift and triumphant vehicle in
the Greek tongue and the spear of Athene Promachos
be beaten into a Christian sword? *'We will hear
thee concerning this yet again," say some of the
listeners. Four centuries later the Neo-Platonists still
build their bridge between Plato and Paul.
128 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
A misty veil drops over the scene. The hght of
Athens pales. Goths and barbarians sweep down
upon it. The scimitar of the Turk flashes in the
sky and the long niglit comes,
Greek nationality is not dead, but sleeping. It
rises, struggles, bursts its bands, gathers its scanty,
blood-stained robes about it and takes again, by
sufferance, its humble place among the kingdoms of
the earth. There is a new Athens, an Athens of
to-day, and as we walk to the Belvedere on the eastern
verge of the Acropolis we may hear a locomotive
whistle and see the electric lights gleaming in the
streets below.
GRAVE RELIEF. ATHENS.
ATTIC GRAVE RELIEFS
The average modern graveyard is neither cheerfu\
nor interesting. Artistically, most cemeteries are a
failure, which is only atoned for when the beauties of
nature offer compensation for poverty of art. Our
gravestones serve to mark, for the most part, the rest-
ing-places of the dead. They are monotonous enough.
Occasionally, wealth may command artistic talent and
produce something more beautiful, though it is very
apt to take a conventional or traditional form, and
represent a broken shaft or some impossible winged
angel pointing to an open Bible.
The Greeks, on the other hand, had a more inter-
esting and cheerful way of commemorating the dead.
I have found little in the way of sculpture at Athens
which more appealed to me than the grave reliefs still
standing in the old cemetery and the large and fine
collection oistelce^ or tombstones, in the National
Museum.
One could not avoid the cemeteries in the old time ;
for the Greeks, as also the Romans, had the custom
of burying the dead outside the city gates, along the
great highroads. That was a road over which, in life
or death, every one must pass. The chief street of
this kind left in Greece is the " Street of Tombs "
outside the Dipylon, or double gateway, of Athens.
Most of the monuments unearthed have been re-
9
I30 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
moved to the Museunl ; but enough are left in place
to revive the impression which they must have made
twenty odd centuries ago.
The Greeks did not mean that this highway of
tombs should be a vale of tears, or that the passer-by
should have to whistle to keep his courage up. They
did not, therefore, except in a very few instances,
represent death : they pictured life. Whether it was
the life here or the life hereafter is a debatable ques-
tion; but, at all events, it was life^ such scenes and
groups and companionships as are familiar now and
here, and such as we should like to have repeated
in the life to come. The departed person is seldom
represented alone, but nearly always appears as one
of a pair or group. In some of these reliefs the
avoidance of the slightest allusion to death in feature,
act or situation is striking. Thus, one of the most
beautiful monuments in the cemetery is that to
Hegeso. A woman is sitting in a chair, while her
female slave stands before her holding an open toilet-
box. Both faces are fixed upon the casket and its
contents, as if this were the one thing of interest.
Apparently, the toilet is completed, and only the jewel
or ribbon which the mistress is selecting is needed
to finish her preparation. But her preparation for
what? Is she getting ready for death or for life? If
for death, where, according to modern ideas and exi-
gencies, are the doctor and the priest? The subject
is treated too seriously for us to assume that the artist
or the person who dedicated the tomb was having
a fling at women in picturing love of dress as '^ the
ruling passion strong in death." This is not meant
to be a death scene. It is not exceptional in type
TOMB OF HEGESO. AlHENS.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA I31
or character, but one of a class in which the toilet-
case or the mirror is frequently introduced.
The difficulty of regarding this as a scene in the
next life is evident. Or did the Greek faith insist
on slavery and toilet-making in heaven? And which
slavery is it worse to perpetuate, that of the servant
to her mistress, or the slavery of the mistress to the
Goddess of Fashion? But these scenes were less
complex than with such casuistry we are capable of
making them. They were as simple and natural and
human as the daily life they describe.
On one of the tombs is a monument of a valorous
young Athenian named Dexileos, who won his laurels
during the Corinthian War, 394 B. C. Mounted on a
spirited horse, he is striking down a foeman, who falls,
half recumbent, beneath his horse's feet. An inscrip-
tion identifies the hero and the deed. In this case it
is clear that the tomb is a monument to a military
hero. It signalizes the deed which made him famous,
and by which his memory is to be perpetuated.
This desire to single out some one act of a man's life,
or some professional success to adorn and distinguish
his tombstone, is a common one in both late and
early times. On the poles of the scaffold upon which
the Sioux Indians elevate their dead on the open
plain, they mark in red paint a record of some deed
of valor, perhaps the number of scalps he has taken
or of the horses he has stolen.
To see the grave reliefs In greatest number and
variety, and to study their significance, we must go
to the National Museum. Many as there are, there
would have been more Attic gravestones, if a law had
not been passed to restrict their erection. Demetrius
132 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of Phaleron seems to have been a funeral reformer,
who forbade the use of elaborate grave monuments,
and who thought three inexpensive varieties would
be enough. It was probably owing to earlier interfer-
ence with the stone-cutter's craft, and not to any pro-
longed period of public health, that the production of
Attic gravestones fell off in the fifth century, and
again, after a period of reaction, under Demetrius at
the end of the fourth.
These tombstones were not made for or by dis-
tinguished people; they were made for every-day
people by every-day workmen. We must treat them
as gravestones, not as achievements of art. They
were not made for competitive exhibition in this
Museum. Nevertheless it is remarkable to what an
extent technical ability had been developed, and
that so many sculptors could be found in Greece
capable of doing such excellent work. Some of
them pass beyond the ordinary level, and exemplify
the highest artistic skill.
The simplest form in which these monuments ap-
pear is that of a slab. In the sixth century before
Christ it was made tall and narrow, with variations
as to size in different parts of Greece and in succeed-
ing years. There are also great inequalities of depth :
sometimes the relief is very deep, sometimes only an
outline. Different kinds of technique seem to have
been in use at the same time. The lower part was
left rough, to be set in the ground, and sometimes the
stone was surmounted by a sculptured gable in low
relief. Though there are many inaccuracies in detail,
the total impression is often strikingly effective, and
originally was no doubt heightened by color. A
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 133
more ambitious and costly form of monument was
constructed of a number of slabs of marble framed
together like a temple front, and in this the com-
memorative slab was set.
These funeral slabs received various symbolical
decorations. A figure half woman and half bird,
with human head and arms, and bird's wings and
claws, a sort of siren playing upon a musical in-
strument or in an attitude of lamentation is frequently
found. A lion is a common symbol. Just what its
relation to death was, it is not easy to see ; perhaps
the figure was simply decorative. On one tombstone
in the National Museum the animal serves as a pic-
torial pun ; the man's name was Leon, as the inscrip-
tion shows, and the corroborative figure left no doubt
about it.
Marble vases formed another kind of grave-orna-
ment, and were also of varying types. Many of these
amphorae have a long, slender neck and flat mouth-
piece. Then there is the XovTpo(j)6po<;, or copy of a
type of vase with two handles. From a passage in
one of the orations of Demosthenes, in which it is
said that a certain man died unmarried, as is proved
from the \ovTpo(f)6po<; on his grave, it is inferred that
this form of two-handled vase is found only on the
graves of unmarried persons. To a modern reader,
a one-handled vase might seem to be a more appro-
priate symbol of celibacy.
When a grave-monument has but a single figure,
it is natural to assume that it designates the one who
has died. But where two or more persons are fig-
ured, it is difficult to tell which was intended for the
dead. The Greeks did not write long eulogies or
134 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
epitaphs on their tombstones. The inscriptions were
mostly confined to the name. Many stones have no
inscription whatever ; the names originally may have
been painted. On the other hand, certain slabs are
crowded with several names when there are only
two figures. The explanation of this redundancy
may be found in the fact that a tombstone made to
commemorate one person was afterwards appropri-
ated for another. Whether there was any legitimate
trading in second-hand tombstones I do not know;
but it looks as if in some cases the original name had
been chiselled out and the monument used by a later
generation.
The student of sculpture will find interesting
material for technical study and comparison in these
reliefs, some of which show close resemblance to Par-
thenon work, while in the later Roman period the
melancholy degeneracy of art is evident. But of far
more interest to me are the questions of life, death,
and the life after death which these grave reliefs sug-
gest. One of the most common motives is that of
two persons clasping hands. What is the meaning
of the clasped hands? Is it a gesture of farewell
from the departed? is- it the joyous greeting he re-
ceives in the next Hfe ? or is it merely an expression
of friendship and affection in this life, as when on
other stones a woman is playing with a pet bird?
These are questions not easily answered.
The reasons advanced for rejecting the first sug-
gestion are that the clasping of hands was not with
the Greeks exclusively or chiefly a sign of farewell.
Nothing was more common, however, than for them
to clasp hands when they met. We find it on the
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 35
Opening pages of the Odyssey, Telemachus grasped
the right hand of the disguised Athene on the thresh-
old of his father's court. Again, it is clear in some
cases that the monument commemorates the seated
person and not the one who is standing. In such
cases it is not natural to think that the sitting figure
represents the one who is saying farewell.
There are many things pointing strongly to the
conclusion that these are simply scenes of earthly
life. Whatever the meaning of the clasped hands as
to time and place, there is no doubt that these per-
sons are presented to us in relations of trust, friend-
ship or affection.
Among the large number of Greek grave monu-
ments at Athens, there are only three or four in which
there is an evident suggestion of sickness and death;
and there are, I believe, but two cases known in which
Hermes is shown in the act of leading persons to the
lower world.
Curious and interesting are the banquet scenes
which form a common type in these grave reliefs.
One figure is usually reclining on a couch ; food is
set on a table near by; slaves or companions are
present, and sometimes a dog is munching a morsel
beneath. Other pet animals, such as birds or rabbits,
are frequently introduced.
The numerous votive tablets are hard to distinguish
from sepulchral monuments. We know little about
them. It is possible that they may have been kept
in the houses of the survivors in commemoration of
the dead.
There is one stone in the National Museum on which
I can never look with dry eyes. It represents a youth
136 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
who has passed away. His father, apparently, is
standing opposite him. In the corner sits a boy
in abject grief, which is shared by a dog mourn-
fully holding his head to the ground. This stone,
softly yielding to the pressure of the deepest emo-
tions, shows that the Greeks could not always avoid
the sadness of death by euphemism in art. Even
marble sometimes melted at the touch of grief. The
dog is no intrusion. The scene would lose greatly in
interest and pathos if he were removed, because the
range of sympathy would be limited. Human emo-
tion seems to have its source deeper in the life of
nature when we find a kindred emotion welling up
from the heart of a dog.
Simple and natural as they are, there is no frosty
hardness in the reserve of these grave stones. The
warmth of life is felt even in death ; they are too ten-
der to be cold. To feel, however, the deep pathos
beneath all the tenderness of the conception of death
we must turn to Greek literature. From Odysseus in
the shadowy land of the dead with unrestrained grief
crying, '* My mother, why not stay for me who long
to clasp thee ! " down through the long vista of the
Greek anthology, the whole gamut of sorrow is
touched ; sometimes in soft flute-like strains in varied
keys, or, as in the inscription to the dead at Ther-
mopylae, with the grandeur of the Eroica. If the
minor mode is the natural language of grief there are
epitaphs which remind us that Handel was not the
only one who could write a funeral march in the
major; and some at least, as this of Plato's, fur-
nished their own consolation, singing in clear hopeful
tones like the clarinet in the allegretto of the Seventh
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 37
Symphony of Beethoven, over the solemn fateful
rhythm of death:
vvp Be Oavoov Xajjiirei^ ''^aTrepo^ iv (j)6L/jLevoL<i,
** Morning Star, that once didst shine among the
living; dying, thou shinest now the Evening Star
among the dead."
No sweeter flowers of literature have been gathered
than those which have bloomed on Greek graves.
Their fragrant affection is often a tribute more to the
joy of life than to the sorrow of death.
" Find no fault as thou passest by my monument,
O wayfarer; not even in death have I aught worthy
of lamentation. I have left children's children; I had
joy of one wife, who grew old along with me ; I made
marriage for three sons whose sons I often lulled
asleep on my breast, and never moaned over the
sickness or the death of any: who, shedding tears
without sorrow over me, sent me to slumber the
sweet sleep in the country of the holy."^
1 Epitaph by Carphyllides, Macail's translation.
THE GREEK THEATRE
A PILGRIM to the shrines of Europe or America
would hardly include the theatre or the ball-room
among them. He would not look for an altar in the
centre of the ball-room and would not expect per-
formances to begin with an ascription to God. The
estrangement between Puritanism and the theatre,
and between Puritanism and the dance, has separated
worship and the drama so widely that it scarcely
seems to one of Puritan training that they could ever
have been very close together. In early Greek times,
on the other hand, they were never, either physically
or religiously, far apart. Modern reactions have
reduced the gap to such an extent that by unexpected
atavism the church and the theatre, of an amateur
sort, are now frequently united in the same edifice,
the church in the foreground, and the " parish house "
or '* parlor," with its stage and small stock of scenery,
in the background. The preacher who thunders
against such ** innovations " forgets perhaps that the
pulpit from which he speaks derives its name from
the actor's rostrum, the pitlpitum of the Roman thea-
tre. When the church architect has had to face the
problem of how to get the largest number of people
into the smallest space for comfortably hearing and
seeing some dramatic preacher, he has frequently and
consistently adopted the amphitheatrical form; he
has built a Greek theatre with a Roman stage. The
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 39
Greeks did not build their temples for preaching, nor
their theatres for elaborate and mystical ritual. The
types of architecture these represented were as dis-
tinct as their functions. The attempt to combine
these functions in either type has not been successful
in large structures. What would the Greeks have
thought of asking an audience to hear a man speak
from the pulpit in Westminster Abbey, where a third
of the people cannot see the speaker's face and half
of them cannot hear him? When it was a question of
sight and hearing, the Greeks knew how to build
an auditorium for twenty or thirty thousand people.
The temple and the theatre were near neighbors, and
it did not seem strange to go from one to the other.
To climb the Acropolis, pass through the Propylaea
to the Parthenon, and then to descend to the theatre
of Dionysus and hear the GEdipus or Antigone, was
not to a Greek an unnatural transition. It was not
necessary to go so far to pass from the altar to the
stage ; for close to the theatre of Dionysus were tem-
ples to that god. Temple and theatre were, in fact,
both included in the sacred precincts. In Roman
times the theatre was separated from religious wor-
ship, but not in the early Greek days.
With even more certainty than we can trace the
development of Doric architecture from the wooden
structure can we trace the successive steps in the
architectural development of the Greek theatre. It
was not an invention but a growth; and it grew
naturally out of the life, literature and religion of
this creative people.
The Greek theatre had its origin in the circular
dance, partly religious and partly festive, in honor
140 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of Dionysus, the wine god. This circular dance is
among the oldest Greek customs, and one which still
survives with joyful, picturesque vivacity. In early
times it was danced round an altar and was distinctly
connected with an act of worship. Dionysus has
nominally passed away, but the wine cup with a more
holy symbolism is retained in sacred ritual, and as if
to perpetuate the memory of its religious origin, the
Greeks of to-day hold their circular dance at Easter-
tide in front of the village church. I was impressed
with the survival of this circular dance when attend-
ing a Greek wedding conducted in a home. The
central table was converted into an altar. At a cer-
tain point in the service the priest took the hand of
the best man, he the hand of the groom, and he the
hand of the bride, and together they swung three
times round the altar, while the spectators stood in
a circle round the dancers.
On Holy Monday, /caOapa Sevrepa in the calendar
of the Greek Church, on the threshold of Lent,
observed with a formal asceticism by abstinence from
flesh, the paganism in the blood breaks out in a hila-
rious revival of the ancient dance. A large number
of the people of Athens may be found on that hoHday
dancing on the Pnyx, some hundred yards from the
spot where Paul gave his Athenian address.
Similarly in ancient times, the large body of the
inhabitants at first took part in these dances. Later
it became customary for a certain number, that is the
chorus, to act as dancers, while a circle of spectators
was formed around them just as at Eleusis and
Megara to-day. The Greeks not only preserve this
ancient institution of the choral dance but they keep
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 141
the same name for it. The verb to dance is xop^vw^
and the noun for the choral dance is x^P^^^-
When the circular form of dance had become fairly
established, we should naturally expect that a level
spot of ground would be chosen or made. It would
be natural also to describe a circle upon the ground
within which the dance should move. This was the
origin of the Greek orchestra (opxvcrrpa^, which
simply meant dancing-place, and must not be con-
fused with the modern meaning of the word. In the
middle of this circle, which afterwards came to be
marked in some theatres by a stone rim or border
laid in the ground, was a small stone altar upon which
sacrifices were made.
Between the pauses of the dance the leader of the
chorus probably ascended the steps of the altar and
declaimed his verses in honor of Dionysus, and per-
haps engaged in dialogue with the other members of
the chorus. To Thespis is ascribed the introduction
of the first actor, who represented different parts in
connection with the leader of the chorus. The first
plays were extremely simple, chiefly dialogue with
little action and scenery, but for dramatic effect it
was necessary that the actors should pass in and out
of the orchestra. It was also desirable that they
should be distinguished from the chorus by dress and
position. Thus in the gradual development of the
drama two things became necessary, first, that the
actors should have some retiring place near the or-
chestra, and, secondly, that an auditorium should be
provided for the great throngs which these popular
feasts attracted.
The actor's need was supplied by the ske7ie, a tent
142 THE TSLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
or hut which ^Eschylus is credited with introducing,
but which in all probability was of much earlier date.
The actors passed from this dressing-room to the
orchestra circle. They acted on the half of the or-
chestra nearest the skenCy while the chorus occupied
the other half.
For the spectators the problem was solved in the
most natural way. They no longer formed a com-
plete circle round the orchestra. They wished to
face the actors. They would naturally gather in a
semicircle opposite them ; they would prefer to sit
rather than to stand. Under these circumstances the
Greeks might have elevated the whole orchestra and
turned it into a stage, leaving the audience to sit on
the ground. But in this position fully half the people
in an assembly of twenty thousand could not see, and
probably nine-tenths of them could not hear. If the
stage were low, those behind could not have seen ; if
the stage were very high, the view of those in front
would have been impaired. Acoustically something
was needed to bring every auditor within range of the
actor's voice. Instead, therefore, of building a high
stage for actors and chorus, the Greeks adopted the
better plan of elevating the audience, and so dispensed
with the stage altogether. The slope of a hill was
chosen, and a large auditorium of horseshoe shape was
cut out, while the circle for the actors was described
below. On these ascending seats every spectator was
brought within sight and hearing of the actors. In the
highest row of seats at Epidaurus I have heard per-
fectly well a person speaking in the orchestra below.
To shut out the actor's tent from the view of the
audience a wooden wall or screen, with a central door
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 43
through which the actors could pass, was set up before
the Skene and called the proskenioi, a word latinized
into prosceuiiun. None of the words, orchestra, scene,
and proscenium, which are so familiar in a modern
theatre, are used to-day in their original signification.
Different theatres varied in particular features, but the
general plan of all was the same, so that one which
was truly Greek could be easily distinguished from
one which was Roman.
To convert the temporary theatre into a permanent
one it was not necessary to change the plan, but to
solidify and elaborate the parts. At first the spec-
tators contented themselves with sitting on the bare
ground ; wooden seats naturally followed, and held
their place a long time. In the days of yEschylus and
Sophocles the Athenians sat on wooden benches.
Later, stone steps and benches were introduced. The
auditorium was strengthened by a solid supporting
wall, and divided into segments by aisles that served
as stairways. It was also divided into an upper and a
lower portion by a passage called the diazoma. The
orchestra was preserved as before. As the theatre
was uncovered, there was no protection against rain,
but to prevent it from flooding the orchestra a canal
at the foot of the auditorium carried it off to an un-
derground drain. The provisional tent gave way to
a low permanent building, and the provisional screen
to a marble one made of a row of columns with
niches for pictures or statues between them, and a
central door for the actors.
In none of the numerous theatres excavated in
Greece and Asia Minor has any trace of a stage
been found. Recent literary and architectural re-
144 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
searches combine to prove that acting in the Greek
theatre was done within the circle of the orchestra,
as in the ancient days of the dance.
The generally accepted theory that the Greeks used
a stage was founded not upon the buildings them-
selves, whose evidence the spade has but lately brought
to light, but almost entirely upon the statement of
Vitruvius, a Roman architect, who wrote just before
the beginning of the Christian era. In an account of
the Greek theatre he described a stage which he said
must not be less than ten nor more than twelve feet
high, adding that " on ihis pulpitum which the Greeks
called logcion the actors performed, while the chorus
acted in the orchestra."
It is interesting to note that the accuracy of this
statement of Vitruvius was impeached almost simul-
taneously from two sides, from a study of the plays,
and from a study of the theatres where they were
given. In 1884 Dr. Julius Hopken wrote a thesis
on the Attic theatre in which he combated the
view of Vitruvius that the actors were on a high
stage. He maintained that both actors and chorus
played in the orchestra, but assumed a low wooden
platform. Meanwhile Dr. Dorpfeld had been greatly
perplexed in his excavations of Greek theatres to find
in them no trace of a stage. He did find in nearly
every one some indication of a proscenium, which
is assumed by Haigh ^ to be the supporting wall of
the stage itself. Dorpfeld, judging solely from the
stones themselves, could see in this proscenium only
the decorated wall, with a central door in front of the
actors' room.
1 " The Attic Theatre," by Arthur E. Haigh.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 145
Hopken's thesis was not received with the re-
spect it deserved. To Dr. Dorpfeld, however, it
was suggestive. Approaching the subject purely
from the standpoint of the architect, he had found
no permanent stage in the Greek theatre, and no
indication that even a temporary stage was used.
Hopken's study raised the question whether the
internal evidence from the plays and the evidence
from the stones might not be in accord. This led
to a new study of the plays by Dr. Reisch, a col-
laborator of Dr. Dorpfeld, and also by Professor John
Williams White, of Harvard College, with luminous
results.^
It may seem at first to be an insignificant matter
whether the Greeks had a stage ten or twelve feet
high, or whether they had none at all ; but when it
comes to the interpretation of the plays the ques-
tion, from a literary and dramatic standpoint, assumes
great importance. If it be true that the actors acted
on this high stage and the chorus acted below in the
orchestra, it is extremely difficult to understand how
they could have been brought into the close physical
relationship which the play sometimes demanded.
Thus in twenty-five instances in the plays of Aris-
tophanes alone, the chorus and actor, as Professor
White shows, are at a given moment on the same
level. How can we suppose, then, that the actors
were on a stage ten or twelve feet high? Again, the
Greek proscenium, though long, was not broad. It
is apparent that on a narrow stage it would be haz-
ardous for actors to perform any violent action. To
1 "The Stage in Aristophanes," Harvard Studies in Classical
Philology, Vol. II.
146 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
fall from a stage twelve feet high into the orchestra
might turn comedy into tragedy.
It is admitted by advocates of the stage theory
that there is occasional necessity for the mingling of
the actors and the chorus, and that there may have
been wooden steps from the orchestra to the stage.
Wooden steps are assumed, because in no Greek
theatre has a vestige of a stone staircase been found.
But the shallowness of the supposed stage would be
even more of an obstacle if the chorus were sup-
posed to be on it. With that addition the stage
would have been overcrowded. There could ' have
been no gathering around the actor. It is not easy
to see how a chorus of twenty-four persons could
have executed a dance movement upon the stage,
as required in the " Lysistrata." Haigh admits that
*' there must have been some difficulty about the
appearance of the chorus upon the stage. Their
presence must have been felt to be an anomaly."
This bewilderment of one of the chief advocates of
the stage theory is not surprising. It is not, how-
ever, the presence of the chorus which is the anom-
aly, but the supposed stage. Remove the stage,
and the difficulty at once disappears.
On the other hand, if one assumes a stage twelve
feet high, the anomalies multiply rapidly. In the
" CEdipus at Colonus," when Creon is attempting to
carry off Antigone, he is held back by the chorus.
If Creon and Antigone had been on a stage twelve
feet high, the chorus would have needed gigantic arms
to reach them. According to the conventional the-
ory, we must suppose that the chorus rushed breath-
lessly upstairs, and that the violent action took place
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 47
on the narrow stage. The difficulty is removed if we
assume that the actors and the chorus were both in
the orchestra. This argument from impossible situ-
ations is developed with much ability by Professor
White in the treatise referred to.
Mr. Haigh has rashly ventured to appeal to the
stones themselves. He argues from the plan of the
theatre at Epidaurus, where the stone border of
the circular orchestra comes within two or three
feet of the proscenium, that if the actors had stood
in front of the proscenium they would have been
sometimes inside the stone border and sometimes
outside. This objection vanishes when one sees
the theatre itself, and finds that this stone border is
not elevated, but is set in flush with the ground.
There is no more difficulty in crossing it than there
is in crossing a hearthstone, or a chalk Hne in a tennis
court.
Haigh's gravest objection to the new view is the
following : " In the Greek theatre the front row of
seats was nearly on the same level as the orchestra,
and the tiers of seats behind ascended in a very grad-
ual incline. If, therefore, the actors had stood on
the floor of the orchestra, with a chorus in front of
them, they would have been hardly visible to the
majority of the audience. An occasional glimpse of
them might have been caught as the chorus in front
moved to and fro, but that would have been all. It
is difficult to believe that the Athenians should have
been contented with this arrangement for more than
two hundred years, and should not have resorted to
the simple device of raising the actors upon an ele-
vated platform." This objection, which is assumed
148 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
to be fatal to Dorpfeld's theory, totally vanishes when
you compare it with Dorpfeld's facts ; in other words,
when you appeal to the building itself. I have prac-
tically tested this objection in more than one theatre,
especially at Epidaurus, where a number of archae-
ologists entered the orchestra to represent actors and
chorus. I took photographs of this performance
from different parts of the auditorium. From top
to bottom there was not a seat in the theatre from
which the actors could not be seen and easily dis-
tinguished from the chorus if they had been differ-
ently dressed. There was no need of a stage, because
every one could see, even those on the lowest seats.
The Athenians had a device for giving the actors a
superhuman prominence. They used the cothurnoSy a
boot with a very thick sole, ^schylus is credited
with inventing this likewise. The soles were made
thicker and thicker, until the actor stood high on a
clumsy stilted boot. Then his stature was still fur-
ther heightened by a tall mask with a prolonged
crown. The introduction of this stilted boot seems
to point distinctly to the fact that both actors and
chorus were on the same level. *' This cothurnos was
awkward," says Haigh, " and actors had to be very
careful to avoid stumbling on the stage." Very likely,
if the stage were twelve feet high. The use of such
a stage as Vitruvius describes was unnecessary, and
would- have been too high for those on the lower
seats. In no modern representations of Greek plays
that I know of, has a stage twelve feet high been
used to separate actors and chorus. It has been felt
that such a stage would be too high. In no Greek
theatre has any trace of steps been found from the
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 49
orchestra to the top of the proskenion. We cannot
suppose that wooden steps were used there. Why
have a proskenion with columns, and pictures or
statues between them, if they were to be hidden by
stairs !
The arguments for a stage adduced from Graeco-
Roman vase paintings, in which comic or tragic
scenes are staged, are of Httle force, because they are
representations of a later age and not of the Greek
theatre of yEschylus or Sophocles. In the vast num-
ber of vases found in Greece itself, none have a
stage upon them. In the Italian vases appealed to,
there is no chorus ; they are not descriptive of the
Greek theatre.
That the Greeks did not have a stage may be
inferred from the fact that they had no name for it.
The word logeion is first used by Plutarch. In an
inscription two or three centuries older, in which the
word appeared, it was found to have been an inter-
polation or restoration of a later time.^
There is little left in support of the stage theory
but the statement of Vitruvius. Living four hun-
dred and fifty years or more after the Attic drama
was introduced, he had seen the Greek theatre, and
had concluded that the proscenium was a stage. He
was fairly accurate in describing its height, but he
1 A few Greek phrases which might indicate a stage are easily
explained. The phrase M a-K-ni/rj^ does not necessarily mean "upon
the stage ; " eVt, with the genitive, is also used to mean "at or near,"
as in the phrase iwl iroraixov, that is, at or near the river; just as we
say Stratford-on-Avon, Boulogne-sur-Mer. We have the same form
in the Greek expression M TpaireCai/, " by the tables." In the same
way the words ava^aivo: and Kara^alvo} are used figuratively, not
always with reference to height or depth, or literal ascent or descent.
150 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
misconceived its functions. He mistook a decorative
or scenic wall for a stage. That the top of the
proscenium may have been used for appearances of
the gods, and occasionally in comedy to represent
the roof of a house, is quite probable, but that the
whole play was acted there is inconceivable.
It is necessary to understand the original con-
struction of the Greek theatre to understand what
it afterwards became. The Greek theatre is the key
to the Roman. Just how the logeion or stage after-
wards appeared is easily seen. In Roman times the
chorus disappeared entirely, and the space which it
occupied in the orchestra could be used for other
purposes. The Romans, therefore, cut the orchestra
in two and deepened the half which was nearest to
the spectators. The other half used by the actors
they left as it was. The actors thus stood on the
same level as before, and those who sat on the lowest
seat in the auditorium sat higher than the deepened
orchestra, and on the same height as the floor on
which stood the actors. This deepened part of the
orchestra the Romans used as an arena for gladia-
torial spectacles. Its Greek name was konistray while
the part reserved for the actors was called the logeion.
A barrier or fence was set between the arena and the
auditorium, and doors were made to open into it
from the side. When gladiatorial exhibitions were
abandoned, the deepened portion of the orchestra
was filled in with seats which were assigned to sen-
ators and other dignitaries. When musicians were
required, they may have sat in this portion of the
orchestra. The semicircular platform or logeio7t
(Latin, pulpitum), thus created by sinking one half
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 151
of the orchestra, has been retained essentially in
the modern theatre. Musicians now play in that
deepened part of the orchestra once occupied by the
chorus, and have taken the name of the place where
they sit. In modern times, however, we build up the
stage half instead of lowering the other half. This
was also done in Roman days, and sometimes the
four lower seats of the auditorium were cut away.
Those who maintain that the proskenion in the Greek
theatre was used as a stage, are obliged to answer the
question why the Romans did not take this stage
already made and use it instead of making a logeion
out of the orchestra.
The changes brought about in the Greek theatre
by the Romans were many. In the Greek times the
audience had entered hy \kv^ parodoi^ or side entrances.
These entrances remained, but they were used exclu-
sively for the actors. Other entrances had to be
made for the audience. An archway was built under
the seats for this purpose. Different parts of the thea-
tre were brought into close relation. The actors' room
and the screen before it were united and developed.
The proscenium was built up into a high decorated
wall, and the wings of the skene were extended so as to
close in the logeion^ which could also be roofed over.
This new structure furnished rooms and windows for
royal spectators. In the modern theatre the name
proscenium is limited mainly to the arch over the
stage and to the side-walls, fitted with boxes, before the
curtain. When the Romans began to build stone thea-
tres they no longer chose the site of a hill, but built
them on level ground, preserving the ascending audi-
torium. The halls and colonnades which the Greeks
152 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
had near the theatre, to which the audience might
retreat in case of rain, were afterwards included in
the building itself, and later the whole structure was
roofed over.
From the simple circular dance of the early Greeks
we have eventually the magnificent opera house at
Paris, with its elegant foyers^ but enough of the old
Greek words, though with new meanings, orchestra,
scene, proscenium, cling to the structure to remind
us of its Hellenic parentage.
As an example of a Greek theatre, with all its
essential features well preserved, there is nothing more
beautiful than that of Epidaurus. The photograph
reproduced here will be easily understood from the
foregoing description. The theatre of Dionysus at
Athens has suffered so many alterations since the
days of ^schylus that it is difficult to find the re-
mains of the ancient structure beneath the mass of
later Greek and Roman additions. The visitor who
to-day steps into the orchestra of that theatre, which
the Greek archaeological society excavated, is standing
on Roman pavement. The chairs, as some of the in-
scriptions show, are of Roman time. Parts of the
structure go back to the time of Lycurgus of Athens
in the fourth century before Christ, under whose ad-
ministration the Skene and other portions were built
of stone. As he looks casually around, the spectator
will see nothing that is older than the fourth century.
He will not find the full circle of the Greek orchestra,
but the half circle of the Romans and a Roman
logeion.
If he wishes to find the theatre of Sophocles,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 53
Euripides, and ^schylus, he will need some other
guide than the one he finds at the hotel. He will
not have to walk more than fifty feet in any one
direction after stepping into the orchestra ; but it will
take three hours to tell the whole story, and there is
only one man in Athens who can do it from original
acquaintance, and that is the eminent guide to whom
this book is dedicated. Under the spell of his
magnetic exposition the broken circle of the ancient
orchestra is restored, the logeion swept away, and the
auditorium divested of its stony sheathing. Misty
forms of the past come up from their tombs. The
hillside is thronged once more with ancient Athenians,
listening with moist eyes to the sorrows of Antigone
or shaking their sides at ''The Knights" or "The
Clouds."
Beyond the wall of the Roman logeion^ almost
hidden from sight, is a segment of stone set deep in
the ground. A close examination shows that it was
originally part of a large circle. This is all that
remains of the orchestra of the early theatre, but it
is enough to tell us where the circle must have been
drawn. Old as they are, these stones are but monu-
ments of a remoter age, when the dance of the wine
god was held in these precincts under the shadow of
the Acropolis. A few feet away is the broken course
of an ancient wall, and near to it at a different angle
another, similar in length, each belonging to the foun-
dation wall of an ancient temple. The material, work-
manship, and orientation show that one was much
older than the other. Both were doubtless temples
of Dionysus, one of them containing a great statue of
gold and ivory.
154 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
One does not need to go from Athens to Rome to
see how the Roman theatre was developed from the
Greek. He may see it partially in this theatre of
Dionysus, but more fully in the Odeion of Herodes
Atticus, a little further around on the same slope of
the Acropolis a theatre built about 60 A. D., by a
wealthy public-spirited Athenian.
Ideas have a vitality and a power of growth inde-
pendent of the material in which they are expressed.
Written on paper, chiselled in stone, spoken on the
air or uttered in the poetry of gesture and pose, they
may live in architecture, literature or tradition. The
germinal idea of the Greek theatre survives in them
all. Megara, Eleusis and Athens preserve the tradi-
tion in the rhythm of the dance. The material form
chronicled so beautifully in stone at Epidaurus is
an example of Greek architecture which has found
a more perfect fulfilment in our own age. But the
building was only the shell. The formative soul was
the drama, ^schylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Aris-
tophanes, were the real architects, and posterity, with
its just sense of value, has more carefully preserved
their works than the theatre in which they were first
given to the world.
MODERN ATHENS
The Acropolis is the rock on which the old Athens
was built : it is still the pride of the new. No palace
or dwelling rests on its summit. That is now sacred
to the gods. But from one end of it, which falls off
abruptly, you get a fine bird's-eye view of the new
Athens lying on the plain below. The old Turk-
ish city, a reminiscence and bequest of the Athens
of the Middle Ages, with its narrow, crooked, dirty
streets and curious old houses, clings to the side of
the Acropolis ; and one inevitably passes through it
on his way to the Propylsea unless he takes the car-
riage-road for a more gradual ascent. The other
slope, which rises opposite the Acropolis across
the city, is the sheer hill of Lycabettus. The Monas-
tery of St. George remains in undisputed possession
of the summit, from which may be had another pan-
oramic view of the city ; and, if you go up at sunset,
you will see the Parthenon with the sun sinking be-
hind it. A few streets slant toward Lycabettus ; but
the main part of Athens is built on the intervening
plain.
Seen from either hill, Athens is a clean, white city,
its atmosphere unpolluted by smoke or fog. It is
not a great manufacturing centre, a vast mart of
trade, but the political, social and intellectual capital
of the Greek nation. In that respect Athens holds
in Greece to-day the proud position that it once held
156 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
as the intellectual metropolis of the world, and neither
Sparta nor ^gina is longer jealous of its supremacy.
It sustains the dignity of the present and the glory of
the past with a bright-faced, attractive grace and ele-
gance which make it one of the pleasantest cities in
the East. Pentelicus, whose vast quarries suppHed
the marble for the Parthenon and the Propylaea, still
yields its stores for pilasters and facades in the new
Athens ; and the use of white or tinted stucco gives
to the buildings a clean, smooth surface, which there
is no soot to mar.
The new city is laid out with great regularity. The
principal streets are broad enough to remind an
American visitor of Washington. They are partially
macadamized, but not paved. The wind has a free
sweep through them ; and the main physical draw-
back to residence in Athens is the mud when it rains
and the dust when it blows. In November and March
the winds frolic with wild lawlessness, and the Hebrew
declaration, " Dust thou art," is Hellenized to an un-
comfortable degree. A waiter stands with a feather
duster at the door of your hotel to switch your
shoes when you come in ; and if you are going to
buy a walking-suit, whatever may be your prejudices
in regard to color, you will wisely choose one that
has natural affinities for free soil. One of the streets
is named after ^olus ; but, alas ! he does not confine
his attentions to that thoroughfare, nor is he shut up
in the "Tower of the Winds," so called. He cele-
brated the national fete with a perfect gale. Hats
flew about in the air or whirled over the pavement;
flags were torn into tatters ; and the only reason for
being grateful that you were on land was the fact that
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 57
you were not on the water. When you have made
this reservation in regard to dust, you have Httle
occasion to revile Athens in other respects. It has
pure air and a good supply of water. There are
open squares, and the palace garden furnishes agree-
able shade. There is a lack of shade-trees in many
streets where they would be both pleasant and orna-
mental; but Kephisia Street is beautifully flanked
with graceful pepper-trees.
*' There is a new Rome," I said to a friend. '* Yes,
and how ugly it is ! " There is a new Athens,
too; but it cannot be called ugly. It lacks, to be
sure, that picturesqueness, variety, mellowness and
general flavor of antiquity which you find in some of
the old Italian cities. These square, solid white
buildings afe a trifle monotonous; but they are re-
lieved here and there by others, such as the Schlie-
mann mansion and some of the new houses on
Kephisia Street, in which there is a union of mass
and elegance. The old Greek columns are used spar-
ingly in the new city, except in public buildings,
where they naturally belong. The new houses are
constructed more with a reference to the necessities
of modern life than to the worship of the gods.
There is generally a small courtyard, often planted
with orange and lemon trees, through which one
passes to the main entrance. The rooms are high-
studded, on account of the summer heat; and the bal-
cony is a common feature. I suspect that modern
Athens, for the average resident, is altogether a pleas-
anter, more comfortable and m.ore beautiful city, as
a dwelling-place, than was the old one, except for
the wealthy classes. Certainly, they did not have
158 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the unromantic convenience of street cars nor the
briUiant glare and deep shadows of the electric
light; and it is not likely that sanitary regulations
were as well attended to. In the old, narrow districts
of the city cleanliness is not cultivated so much as
godliness.
When it comes to pubHc buildings, the new Athens
is naturally dwarfed by the glory of the old. No one
comes here to see its modern structures. The royal
palace, built by a German architect, has all the dimen-
sions of length, breadth and thickness, but not beauty.
The cathedral has none of the charm of the little old
Byzantine church by its side. The finest building
is the Academy, a gift of Baron Sina of Vienna,
and designed by a Vienna architect. It is built
of Pentelic marble, in a style which is historically
and artistically Greek and whose classic grace and
beauty have been nurtured on this soil. It was de-
signed to be the home of an Hellenic Academy on the
plan of the French Academy ; but, though the build-
ing is there, the organization is yet lacking. It would
be hard, I imagine, for the Greeks to agree as to the
men who should fill those vacant chairs, but there are
some who would grace them worthily. The Univer-
sity building is not great, but the Greek spirit is
shown in throngs of students. Elegant and impos-
ing is the new library building, also consistently
Greek in structure. The National Museum shelters
treasures of Greek art, and for this is admirably
adapted in many respects. Its collections are most
of them the result of the modern enterprise and
achievements of archaeological science. Then there
is a large building used for the Greek National Expo-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 59
sition, not far from the palace, surrounded by grounds
which furnish a favorite promenade for Athenians.
The wonder is, not that Athens has so Httle to
show in the way of modern buildings, but that it has
so much. The growth of the city has been remark-
able. Sixty years ago it was a small village of not
more than three hundred houses, and devoid of even
the ordinary comforts of civilized life. To-day it is
a city of one hundred and twenty thousand people.
It has broken away from Oriental trammels and
cast in its lot with European civilization. Its uni-
versity is conducted by a body of professors, most of
whom have been educated in Germany and who fol-
low German methods. The students do not have,
however, that thorough preparation which German
students bring to their university studies. The work
of teaching them is, therefore, more elementary than
it should be in a university.
Athens has three theatres of good size for winter
use, and a small variety theatre and several out-of-
door summer theatres. Every winter there is a season
of French and Italian opera. In the Old Theatre
plays are given in Greek, mostly translations from
the French. Occasionally there is a native produc-
tion, usually a patriotic play, in which the actors
appear in the short-skirted fustanella dress which the
Greeks adopted from the Albanians. I have seen an
act from Antigone given as a prelude to one of these
national fustanella plays. The contrast in style was
striking enough, but both were essentially Greek.
In painting and in music Athens furnishes no
ground for comparison with the great capitals of
Europe. It has not had the wealth to command
l6o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
them, and has more wisely devoted its slender means to
unearthing and sheltering the treasures of plastic art
buried in its own soil. It has not even money to do
this thoroughly, and must depend for some time to
come upon foreign aid and co-operation in this field.
But Greece has one resource which is steadily enrich-
ing her : it is the patriotism and liberality of wealthy
Greeks, some of whom have made their wealth
abroad and who have reared and endowed public
buildings of Athens. From this source we may
expect more for Greece in the future. Even the
prisons have been the subject of private generosity ;
and I had a call from a gentleman in Athens who
came to consult me in regard to plans for a new
reformatory which a benevolent man had offered to
the government. The new Conservatory, or Odeion,
in an unpretentious building, is conducted by a Greek
graduate of Munich, and with some German instruct-
ors on its teaching force. It is likewise assisted by
private benevolence. The piano is a favorite instru-
ment in Athens, and tyrannizes over the education
of young ladies there as elsewhere. There is a
fairly good choral society, but no local orchestra.
A Handel oratorio or a Beethoven symphony would
be out of the question in Athens for the present.
With the exception of the music at the Russian
Church, and an occasional chorus at the Cathedral,
there is no ecclesiastical music worthy of the name.
The droning of the priests in the temple and the
monotonous bacchanals in the wine-shops, are any-
thing but grateful to a European ear.
The monuments of Athens, with its temple-crowned
Acropolis and the rich treasures of its museums, con-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA l6l
stitute the chief attraction for the stranger, when
joined to the grand old hills and the wine-dark sea.
But to an American who settles down here for six
months it is scarcely less interesting to note the
progressive spirit and the enterprise which are con-
stantly finding fresh expression in the modern Athens,
and to see the life of the old-new nation struggling
through pain and sorrow into new importance, I
wish I could say into new power.
THE STREET AND THE AGORA
Athens is not a city of magnificent distances ; it
does not take long to measure it off with wheels or
shoe-leather. The difficulty is to keep mentally in
the nineteenth century and in the Athens of to-day.
You are almost sure to wander off into the Athens of
yesterday and the day before. You start feeling that
you are contemporaneous with yourself and with
everybody else whom you meet, but you have not
walked long before you begin to ask yourself whether
you are not really contemporaneous with some of
your distinguished and immortal ancestors. Are
you living your life backwards? Has the clock
begun to go the other way, or is it ticking both
ways at once? Is this the present, or is it the past?
Or are both throbbing together? Chronology seems
to have lost its sequence, to have become an eddying
whirl of repetitions and contradictions.
There would be no illusion, no disturbance of your
sense of identity, if you were in a city wholly of ruins,
like Pompeii, and devoid of any life of to-day. Then
you might hold yourself aloof and view it as a
spectator across the gulf of centuries. Or if you
dreamed yourself back into it and imagined that you
were the sole surviving Roman citizen, your dream
would not be interrupted by nineteenth century
contradictions and interpolations. There are places
in Greece where you may have this experience, but
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 63
in Athens your impressions cannot be kept so dis-
tinct. You are not visiting a mass of inert ruins.
The new Athens, with its horse cars, steam trams,
electric lights, clean white buildings and spacious
squares, is so incisively modern and progressive that
there is no doubt that you are living in your own day.
The curious thing is that though the nineteenth cen-
tury is alive, the centuries which have preceded it do
not seem to be dead. The past and the present
interchange their emphasis and are moving together
in the same procession of events.
This chronological tangle comes not from dead
stones, but from live people. Much of the double
impression on your consciousness is made through
the language and through your education in regard
to it. You have been taught that this old language
was dead and buried, but here are living people
talking it as if it were just as much alive as your
own. The newsboys are hawking papers through
the streets. That is a familiar modern experience,
but the names 'A/CjOoVoXt?, "Ao-tu, YLaipoC are curi-
ously ancient, and when you buy them and under-
take to get the news of the day you find yourself
in a morass of Homeric, Xenophontine, Hellenistic,
mediaeval or later Greek words. The older the
style, the better you understand it. Here is a vocab-
ulary, the growth of centuries. It is not a fusion of
old words in a modern crucible ; it is not philological
junk. The old words have not lost their vitality of
form or meaning ; they are simply put together in a
different way. Even when clipped and elided, you
find the old roots. Like the gardener's bulbs, they
are constantly bursting into new bloom. Noth-
1 64 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ing is more curious at first than to find modern
thought and events expressed in such archaic forms.
These are not make-believe newspapers. The people
are reading them. You step into the Boule and hear
legislative debates in the same tongue. You have
been used, however, to studying Greek with the eye,
not with the ear, and at first the modern pronun-
ciation is so strange that the language seems more
barbarian than Greek. When accent and emphasis
have become as familiar to the ear as the characters
are to the eye, then the old Greek seems to be
exuberantly alive, and after you have heard a finished
oration by Trikoupes, a sermon by the Archbishop,
a harangue by a carnival comedian in the Agora, a
recitation in the school, you become so thoroughly
Hellenized, and so saturated with antiquity, that you
would not be surprised to meet Socrates in the
Agora, Paul upon the Areopagus, Pericles coming
down from the Acropolis, or to happen on Diogenes
packed in his tub.
In a corner of the Odeion of Herodes Atticus is
an enormous earthenware wine jar, a vessel which still
goes by its ancient name of pithos. One day, as Pro-
fessor Dorpfeld was concluding his lecture to a group
of archaeologists in the ruins of the old theatre, they
were suddenly startled by seeing a head thrust out of
the jar which lay on its side. Then shoulders, body
and legs slowly emerged. Inquiry showed that a
half-witted man, driven about by the persecutions of
a rabble of boys, had taken refuge in the old wine jar
and had lived there most of the time for two weeks.
A kind woman had brought him food and covered
the mouth of the jar with a curtain. The poor
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 65
wretch sadly lacked the wisdom of Diogenes and
was more in need of merciful than of honest men.
This modern Greek duplication of the life of the old
cynic I offer in evidence against the scepticism of
those who maintain that the philosopher could not
have found a jar big enough to live in ; and I have
no doubt that if we could have got at the philosophy
of this second Diogenes we should have found it
sufficiently cynical.
It is in this way that old customs, words, ideas and
traditions keep popping up and emerging from the
human pottery in which they have been bottled.
When you examine them you find that they are not
dead ; they have not even been hermetically sealed ;
though a little wrinkled or a trifle rheumatic, they are
living and breathing and frequently venture out in
public.
Diogenes or not, you will not get very far in
Athens before you meet more congenial notabilities.
There, for example, coming down the steps of the
American Legation is Alcibiades. He is tall, hand-
some, with black curly hair and dark eyes, genial in
manner, and with a perpetual smile on his dark face.
He has an accomplishment which he did not possess
twenty-three hundred years ago. He can speak
French and English as well as Greek. He does not
concern himself nowadays with Sparta or Sicily;
he does not get drunk with his young friends and
deface the statues of Hermes at Athens. He will
never be tried for impiety. He is the young and
faithful interpreter at the American Legation, and
is soon to try his fortunes in the new world. No one
would take him to be twenty-three hundred years
1 66 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
old. Then there is Constantine. Just by what sign
he is conquering I do not know, but by the sign of
the drachma or the dollar, I suppose. Strange to
say, Constantine is a brother of Alcibiades, and it
is likewise surprising to learn that they are both
brothers of Miltiades, who has given up soldier-
ing and is devoting himself to the arts of peace.
Themistocles is not the Secretary of the Navy, as he
ought to be, and he would not advise Athens in
these days to depend upon '' wooden walls " when
every other nation is using ironclads. Leonidas, his
brother, no longer guards the pass of Thermopylae,
but is hurling lightning with the Morse telegraph.
As for Alexander, who is the brother of all the rest,
he is not hunting men or beasts in Asia Minor, nor
is he standing in front of the tub of Diogenes. He
is an Athenian schoolboy riding not Bucephalus, but
a bicycle. Voila! Alcibiades, Constantine, Miltiades,
Themistocles, Leonidas, Emmanuel, Nicolas, Alex-
ander, eight brothers bearing the name, if not the
fame, of statesmen and heroes ! May some modern
Plutarch write their lives. The single concession
made to Hebrew and Christian nomenclature in the
name Emmanuel, which breaks the set, shows that
the parents value piety even more than symmetry.
This revival of ancient names is one expression
of Greek patriotism, and some of these boys well
deserve their heroic names. It all helps, however, to
confuse the chronology, as when Demosthenes sent
me a basket of fruit by the hands of still another
Leonidas; and it was another Alexander Alex-
ander the Little who used to read stories to me
in modern Greek.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 167
Of course the heroes and poets are honored in
the names of the streets, and this veneration is even
accorded to the gods. There is Homer Street,
and I was not quite happy until I had taken my
residence upon it; Solon Street, Hermes Street,
and streets named after iEsculapius, Hippocrates,
Athene, Constantine, Menander, Philip, Theseus,
Euripides, Praxiteles, Thucydides, Aphrodite, Ares,
Pan, Hebe, Hephaestus, Pericles, Apollo, Thrasy-
bulus, and one named after the Holy Apostles,
though none that I remember named after the Vir-
gin or the Holy Ghost, as in France and Germany.
The gods might be jealous enough if they compared
the streets named after them with their own preten-
sions to youth, cleanliness and beauty. Some of
these streets are so narrow and insignificant that it
may be a grave question whether the gods were
not slandered by the compliment. The Christian
saints are not wholly forgotten, but the nomenclature
of paganism is prevalent, and one might conjecture
that the gods had left Olympus and come down to
dwell with Athene in her beloved city. Is there not
a hotel dedicated to Athene and one to Poseidon?
Modern topographers of Athens have disputed
as to where the old Agora lay. Some indication of
its site, supported by recent excavations, may be
gathered from Pausanias. The so-called " Gate of the
Agora " is still standing, and one may read on a tab-
let a long inscription of the time of Hadrian respect-
ing the market price of oil and salt. There are remains
too of the Stoa of Attains, built by Attains II., king
of Pergamon (159-139 B.C.). It was a large building,
more than three hundred feet long, with a colonnade
1 68 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of Doric and Ionic shafts. Between the gate of the
Agora and the Theseion Dr. Dorpfeld and other
topographers assume that the old market undoubt-
edly lay. In those days, as in ours, the shrines of
God and Mammon were not far apart. Trinity stands
at the head of Wall Street; so the Temple to the
Mother of the Gods, the council chamber, with the
statues to Zeus and Apollo, and various pictures
and memorials, were within or close to the precincts
of the old Agora. They are gone now, and it is
not easy to tell where they were. From Greek
literature we can reconstruct, however, a vivid pic-
ture of the old Agora, with its hair-dressers, wine
shops, cheese shops, fruit and oil dealers, myrtle-
sellers, bakers, perfumers, doctors, harness-makers,
the potters, the venders of ribbons and fillets, the
cooks with their cooking utensils, the fishwomen
and slaves. We can see it and smell it, and hear the
sound of the bell ringing in the tradesmen and cus-
tomers. We can hear the buzz of discussion, the
shrill voices of the fishwives screaming billingsgate
when polite Greek was too dainty for their tongues
or feelings. We can see the throngs at full market
time when Socrates was pretty sure to be around
and the loungers sauntering under the colonnade or
loafing in the shops.
The new market is not very far from the old. ^ It
is not likely that the old Agora was wholly confined
within certain definite precincts. The modern Agora
is not very definite either, but its centre of activity
falls within the limits of the old Agora, so that the
Greeks of to-day may be said to be doing business
almost over the very spot which their fathers used
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA l6g
for the same purpose. On a dingy coffee-house is
a daub of Socrates with so ugly a visage that if it
were possible to libel the sage in a caricature of his
face we might think that the painter had succeeded.
There are plenty of loungers. Socrates would have
no difficulty in drawing a crowd and Paul would find
many there anxious to hear and learn some new
thing. There are others who sit around with a stolid
indifference, smoking long Turkish pipes, some using
their own amber mouthpieces, which they can attach
to the tube and pipe they have hired, others disdain-
ing such formalities and puffing freely and democrat-
ically at the common mouthpiece, like Indians when
they smoke the pipe of peace. I cannot say that I
find such communism to my taste. Socrates might
be surprised enough to see a new vender in the
Agora and would naturally wonder what a " smoke
shop," fcaTTvoTrcoXelov, really meant, and whether there
was not some sophistry in the term. With his well-
known views on temperance and physical health we
might expect from him a sensible lecture on this
modern habit.
Most of the occupations would, however, be per-
fectly familiar to him, and most of the terms by which
they are described. Now, as then, the wine-merchant
is the olvo7r(o\r]<;, the bread-dealer the a/JTOTrcoXT;?,
the cheesemonger the Tvpo7r(o\r]<; and the pottery
shop the Kepa/jLOTTcoXelov. Aristophanes might mock
the hawkers who go about crying their wares, and
Plutarch might complain now, as then, that the Agora
is a noisy place. They could hardly seek an article
of food of the old time that might not be found in
the Agora of to-day, and they would find just as
I/O THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
much haggling over its price. It is no longer a
shame for a woman to go to market in Athens ; but
is it a survival of the old Greek prejudice against
women engaging in business, or because of the later
Orientalism in which Greece has been submerged,
that women are not generally found as clerks and
attendants in the stores and shops of Athens ? " Shall
Women Work?" was a question thrown open to pub-
lic discussion in the daily Acropolis. Several hundred
letters were received on the subject, and more than
half of them were in favor of extending the range of
women's employments ; and this change is certainly
taking place.
Retail dealers and hucksters in the old Agora and
the common pedlers did not have a high social
position, and Socrates would find that the word
KairrfKo^y huckster, retains much of its old meaning,
and that the adjective KairrfkiKo^ means rude and
impolite to-day, while eyUTropo?, merchant, and the
derivatives of that word, are held in greater honor.
Not far away from their old-time resort one finds to-
day the trapezitaiy the bankers and money-changers.
If you want to know how the trade winds are blow-
ing, walk through ^Eolus Street (the " Street of the
Windy God"), the fluctuations of the drachma are
a pretty good gauge. Sitting out on the sidewalk
are the money-changers. A small table supports a
glass case in which their money is displayed. They
do not sit in the temple or in its immediate court,
but the church is not far away, and the tables at
which they sit bear the same name, rpuTre^a, as in
New Testament days. Indeed, this word used by
the money-changer for his table has come to be
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA I71
the Greek word for bank, just as the English word
bank is derived from the money-dealer's bench.
This is the Athenian Wall Street, and not a little
speculation is based on the ups and downs of the
drachma. The larger hotels and merchants with
foreign trade fix their prices on a gold basis. In
the smaller shops and at the market Greek paper is
taken at its face value. The market soon adjusts
itself to any rapid change in prices, but railroad rates
and many other fixed charges are reckoned in
drachmas; and as gold is sometimes at a premium
of from sixty to eighty per cent the holders seek
to sell it at a good advantage.
In the ancient Agora different sections were
assigned to diff'erent goods, as in the best markets the
world over. And so to-day they are grouped with
more or less definiteness in the streets of Athens.
The Bon Marche and the Magazin die Louvre or
the Wanamaker establishment embracing the whole
range of human wants have not absorbed and di-
gested the small dealers, and these may be found in
large numbers grouping their specialties in diff'erent
streets. They are more picturesque in the poor part
of the city. The winding lanes lined with little open
shops, the out-of door fruit markets and the tempting
sidewalk display of baskets, pottery and embroidery
seemed to have a strange fascination for Mavilla and
Taphylle. They soon labelled the picturesque streets
with names of their own. What they called the
" Street of the Red Shoes " was their favorite. Up
and down both sides of the alley hung rows and rows
of bright red shoes dangling from the eaves of the
open shops and dancing perpetually like those in
1/2 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the fairy tale. They are of all sizes and of all
qualities, but all of the Greek national type, red,
stitched with yellow, with silk-tufted toes which are
turned up somewhat in the Elizabethan style. " A
few loungers in fustanella," says Mavilla, " leaned in
the doorways, playing with their beads and talking
politics with the shoemakers within. Before we had
walked half the length of the street, however, the
shoemakers jumped from their benches, the loungers
turned to stare, and we were suddenly surrounded
and assailed with the cries of ' Madama.' At once
the sleepy street was in a state of excitement. For-
eign customers were coveted prey and must be cap-
tured. We usually took refuge in the nearest shop,
leaving the rival dealers looking round the corner
till we should emerge. Though apparently there
was nothing for sale but red shoes, it was marvellous
what quantities of other things the jealous shop-
keepers brought into the street and flaunted before
our bewildered eyes." Another street near by Ma-
villa named the " Street of the Anvil." Here they
used to watch the coppersmiths hammer their pretty
wares, or hunted for curiosities in the old iron shops, or
went into the dingy bell-foundry to buy tinkling goat
bells. '' There was always a goat in the shop, and I
never knew whether he was kept as a milliner's
model to try on the bells or to eat up the iron filings
which fell to the floor." Nothing, however, seemed
to exercise such a mysterious charm over these
young ladies as a pottery shop, devoted to every
form of earthenware. Just how many of these shops
the family supported while in Athens I will not ven-
ture to say, but Taphylle's ambition was not satisfied
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 73
until she had secured in Greece a pithos nearly as
large as the one used by the modern Diogenes, and
ever since it came to her home the question has been
what to do with it.
The Boulevard of the University and the Boulevard
of the Academy are two of the broadest and finest
avenues. Stadion Street is one of the busiest, but
many large houses and bookstores have sought the
protection of Hermes.
Specialization is carried so far that there are
Athenian bakers who confine themselves wholly to
the making of bread, which is shaped frequently
into great rings almost large enough to pass over
one's head. Peripatetic street-hawkers are common
enough; street cries of every sort make music on
the air. Peddling is not confined to transient and
perishable commodities such as fruit and fish. There
are few things which are not sold by these street
venders. You might find one of them confining
himself wholly to stockings; another perambulates
the fashionable streets almost buried under a load
of ready-made shoes. Can it be that the ancient and
honorable families at Athens buy their foot gear in
this way, or is the vender basing his hopes upon the
domestics? In the market proper, flowers and chap-
lets are sold as in the old time, and many of them are
used now, as then, for religious purposes.
In the old Agora cooks could be found with their
utensils ready to sell their services. I was surprised
to find how much public cooking is still done in the
market and on the streets. Some of these profes-
sional cooks go about with stoves on wheels. The
stove is made of sheet iron. There is a glowing fire
1/4 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of coals inside, and above it are four spits arranged
side by side, on which beef, cut up into small pieces,
is spitted and roasted. Charcoal fires and braziers,
over which meals are cooked, may be found on the
streets, but they are most numerous round the Agora,
where broiling fish and meat constantly blend their
gastronomic incense. In this soft and genial climate
why should a shoemaker work indoors, when, like
Hans Sachs, he can just as well work out on the
street? There are many other craftsmen who follow
his example.
The slaves, thank Heaven, have gone from the
markets, but there are plenty of boys with baskets
who are ready to take home the provisions which
the man of the house has bought on his way to
business.
To see the streets and the Agora at the liveliest
time, one must stroll through them at Christmas or
New Year's or at the height of the Carnival. The
Christmas festival does not really culminate until
New Year's. Far more presents are given then,
and the jollity reaches a higher pitch. The streets
of the Agora are hardly big enough for the crowd
and trade is still more sharply specialized. The
bread-dealer has added vastly to his stock, and the
occupation of certain other bakers consists wholly
in selling New Year's cake marked with the date of
the year. Oranges, dates, figs, nuts, raisins, flowers,
candies and sugar cakes abound; and of vegetables,
cabbages, cauliflower, radishes, lettuce and onions
there is a profusion. There are chickens, turkeys,
lambs, hares and fish of every sort. The dealers
from behind their stands are shouting eXa, eXa,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 75
*' Come, come ! " The portable stove is heated to
the highest temperature. The fat in which the sau-
sages are frying splutters with excitement, look
out for your clothes when you go by! Cries of
*' twenty drachmas, forty drachmas," by sharp-voiced
dealers rise above the general turmoil. The house-
holder going home with his dressed hare, the head
left on, is a common sight. In the butter and cheese
shop what seems a dead pig is lying on its back with
something oozing from its mouth. It is a pig-skin
filled wnth strained honey. You would rather buy
your honey of Hymettus from something more
sweetly suggestive.
Say not the modern Greek is devoid of the artis-
tic spirit; for the dressed turkeys are adorned with
rosettes and their legs gilded. But you can also buy
turkeys " on the hoof; " for a turkey " shepherd " is
driving a flock of twenty of them to the market-place.
He is followed by a man with a large pole on which
twenty or more bouquets are suspended. Others
bear bunches of flowers done up in scalloped paper
and tied to the branches of small trees or bushes,
one bunch to each branch. You hear the tinkling
of bells, breaking through the general hubbub. That
is a classical sound. It is not the old Agora bell, but
the music of a small herd of belled goats. The dairy-
man with his milk measure in hand is following them.
Lest there should be any lack of noise boys are
whirling their rattles made of ratchet wheel and pawl.
Everybody is good-natured. " It is all very jovial,"
you say, forgetting perhaps that you are using a
latinized expletive of Socrates and paying in several
languages a tribute to Father Zeus.
1/6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
I doubt if the streets are any dirtier than they
used to be; and the marketmen of Athens, I suspect,
are more honest to-day than in olden time, when
their trickery was frequently too much for the law.
But even to-day the police and the sanitary inspector
must keep a sharp lookout at Athens, as in New
York or London, for stale fish, for lambs which were
killed younger than they should have been, and for
adulterations and tricks in trade not confined to the
market in Athens. A countryman is going through
the Agora. He means to enrich his New Year's table
with a little fish, and buys a small string from a
dealer. Mountain bred, he does not know that these
fish have been out of the water for at least three
days. He puts them in his Turkish tagari or sack,
when he is startled by the sudden appearance of a
policeman. " Hallo, old man," says the officer, who
is classically denominated KXrjrrjp. ** Hallo, old man ;
what have you got in your sack? "
" I 'm no thief," says the frightened countryman ;
and with a sudden dart he makes his escape in the
crowd.
*' Ah, you stupid old fool," cries the officer, '*you
think you are smart, don't you, but you have bought
a string of spoiled fish."
If Aristophanes were there he could find abundant
material for comedy and satire, and perhaps, after he
had become used to external changes, in no place
would the life of Athens seem more natural to him
than in the Agora. He would find that after twenty-
three hundred years of history the Greek marketmen
to-day, in flinging abuse, do not feel obliged to con-
fine themselves to the slang of his day, but can find
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 77
enouih that is new and more familiar and which the
great comedian would try in vain to understand.
Just what was the relation of the ancient shrine to
the ancient Agora? Did the old marketmen have
an " eye for business " when they sacrificed to the
gods? The modern church is close enough to the
modern market, but the pious merchant does not
always content his soul with going to church; he
gets the church to come to him. One day I stepped
into a photographer's to see about some work. There
behind the counter stood a priest; before him were
various symbols of his religion, and a saucer in which
incense was burning. Prayer-book in hand, he was
going through a portion of the liturgy. The pho-
tographer and his son were apparently paying no
attention to him or his prayers, but busied them-
selves in arranging pictures. Nor did the priest
appear to be greatly interested in his service. He
went through it as if it were a matter of business ;
and so it was. The next day I asked the photog-
rapher what it all meant. " It means," said he,
*' that my mother is a pious old woman, and she likes
to have the priest come round on the first day of the
month and pray that business may be good." He
smiled sceptically himself and confided to me that
he thought the best way to help his trade was to do
good work. I am glad to say that he lived up to
this practical precept.
The life of the street is most bright and jubilant
five or six weeks later, when the carnival begins.
People pour in from the surrounding country. There
is a great carnival procession, and you may find a
large ship borne aloft, as in the Panathenaic proces-
178 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
sion. But this is really the modern Dionysia. Athens
surrenders itself to unbridled merriment, but it is
not lawless or vulgar. Jugglers, comedians, gymnasts,
pedlers, and the Greek Punch and Judy abound in the
streets, as they did in the ancient Dionysia. There is
good testimony to the skill of the old Greek magi-
cians. The modern performer repeats many of the
same tricks. The sword-balancer and the sword-
swallower are there, and we should no doubt find the
cup-changer. Many in the procession wear masks.
There is a small menagerie of make-believe animals,
one of them a gigantic and amusing caricature of
a camel operated like the famous Trojan horse by a
detachment of Greeks in the inside. There is much
pantomime, but they do not divert themselves greatly
with street music in Athens.
The old theatre of Dionysus is deserted except by
the curious archaeologist, but crowds fill the modern
theatres. The street actors I found more interesting
and archaic. One of the most popular represen-
tations is frequently given near the street of the
money-changers. It is acted out by a group of five
men, one of whom impersonates a usurer sitting at
his desk and keeping his accounts. A man comes to
him and begs a little more time in which to repay his
loan, but the exacting and selfish banker will grant no
grace. The banker dies. Two devils with long tails,
costumed in black and with pitchforks in their hands,
come to take him. Two angels with golden wings
are watching near by. They rush to the scene,
deliver the soul of the man from the devils and insure
him a fair trial. They take his soul, which is repre-
sented by a little china doll, and after a harangue
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 79
against selfishness hold up their balances and put it
in. It is weighed and found wanting. They toss the
soul to the black devils, who make off with it. This
street play is a clear survival of an early tradition.
On Byzantine pictures the soul appears as a small
doll, and the spectacle of the l-ast judgment with
the scales and the demons is a favorite Byzantine
representation.
As for games of children, the hoop and the top
and the doll, the kite and the ball, are as modern as
they are old, and I have played jackstones with girls
in Athens in almost precisely the same manner as
Pollux described the game.
But the street scenes are not always so gay. Posted
on the walls you may often see an announcement with
a margin of black nearly an inch broad notifying
friends and relatives that mass will be celebrated in
a designated church for the repose of the soul of a
beloved father and brother. On Christmas Day the
merry crowd on Stadion Street was hushed for a mo-
.ment. Four men dressed uniformly in dark clothes
of ecclesiastical cut, ornamented with crosses, were
heading a cortege. They bore various ecclesiastical
symbols, and one held aloft the white cover of the
coffin. The corpse, dressed as in life and with the
face exposed, was carried on a bier covered with
flowers. An empty hearse followed, and four or five
carriages. There was no music. The procession
moved silently along, and people took off their hats
as it passed. But sometimes priests march in advance,
chanting a mournful threnody, and I have seen men
and boys shabbily dressed bearing the cross and the
white slab. I shall not forget the face of a beautiful
l8o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
boy who passed me one day on his bier. Death and
sleep seemed to be twins. Without shroud or coverlet
save the flowers around him, dressed as if for a fete,
not a grave, it seemed as if the chant of the mourners
had only soothed him to slumber.
THE ALTAR OF THE HOME
A HOTEL is not a home any more than a pension
is a hotel. In neither of them can one see Greek
domestic Hfe. If I had Hved in them long, I should
not have known Spiridion, the faithful butler and
factotum, Elizabeth, the cook, with her island brogue,
nor black-eyed Laurette, nor Louise, nor Helen, nor
the Kyria, my landlady.
** How many cigarettes, Kyria, do you smoke a
day? " I asked once. *' Not many ; only twenty-five."
She was the only Greek woman whom I ever saw
smoking, and she had acquired this accompHshment
in Paris.
Athens resisted the invasion of the Goths in the
third century, but it welcomes the Gauls in the nine-
teenth. When it forgets its past and wishes to be-
come fashionably modern, it imitates Paris. Thus
there is a Gallic Athens and a Greek Athens. The
French capital has accidentally acquired a Greek
name smelted from barbarian ore, and, as the most
brilliant and beautiful city in Europe, may challenge
imitation ; yet, if you want Paris, you should see it
in its native brilliancy, not in a pale Hellenic re-
flection. Hence fashionable Hfe in Athens did not
attract me, and I did not spend any time at the
shrine of its goddess. Athens has nothing unique
to offer in this direction. Its social conventions
1 82 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
are European, and one can easily find them in any
other city.
One may well, however, light a candle at the altar
of the Greek home. The altar is by no means simply
a metaphor. The Greeks, though good church-goers,
always reserve some of their religion for family life.
In Ithaca I slept in a room where the pious house-
holder kept a lamp burning night and day before a
shrine of the Virgin set in a little niche, a com-
mon practice with the peasantry. Every home may
thus become a sanctuary. I have stood too by an
altar in the very centre of the home. Consecrated
mirth followed the marriage service, which took place
before it, and the girl was a willing, happy victim.
But it is not always so. At first I could not fathom
the sadness beneath the nonchalant air of my land-
lady as she lightly puffed her cigarette, but when
she told me her history I could almost forgive her
for turning herself into a chimney. Her cigarettes
were simply to drive away care. She had never
loved her husband; she had married him simply be-
cause her father had commanded her to do so. In
the Paris Bourse their fortune, like her tobacco, had
gone up in smoke. Separated from him, she and
her daughters were fighting the battle of life against
heavy odds.
In the matter of marriage I find the Greeks too
much like their forefathers. It is interesting to ob-
serve the persistence of some old Pagan customs ; it is
less gratifying to see others perpetuated which ought
long since to have been buried. It was an old form
of Pagan brutality for a father to arrange a marriage
for his daughter, and even for his son, without con-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 83
suiting or heeding their inclinations. There was too
much matrimonial bargaining and too much disre-
gard of the affections. That happy marriage some-
times resulted does not prove that the custom
was a good one any more than wedded happiness
in India justifies child marriage. Hence Plato in
his Laws, among some radical suggestions, made
the sensible one that " people must be acquainted
with those in whose family they marry and to whom
they are given in marriage ; in such matters as far as
possible to avoid mistakes is all important."
Greek boys and girls are not without opportunities
of seeing each other, but the dickering over the
dowry still continues. The Greeks are not alone
under its thrall, for it is a custom which prevails all
over the continent of Europe. Tl/aotf, now current
in the form irpotKa, is an old Attic word for the
marriage portion, and there is many a Greek girl
to-day who wishes the word and the thing were not
so modern. I have not discussed the subject with
the high functionaries of Church or State, but I have
talked it over with the Kyria, my landlady; with
Nicholas, the cab driver ; with Georgios, the law stu-
dent; and with Helen, not of Troy, but of Athens.
I did not find any great difference in their opinions,
though occasionally some variation in their accounts
of the customs. The usage at Zante or at Sparta
may differ a little from that at Athens. It is Georgios
who takes the Spartan view, which he confided to
me as we were sitting over our loukoumi at a cafe
near the Stadion.
'* It often happens," he said, " that a young man
sees the girl he is to marry only once before the
1 84 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
wedding. The great stumbling-block is when the
parents do not agree as to the proika. The father
of the girl gives the dowry, and with us it must not
be less than a thousand drachmas. It runs up to ten
or fifteen thousand sometimes, and of course the rich
give fifty or a hundred thousand." At that time, a
drachma was worth fourteen cents.
'* When a father wishes to marry off his daughter,"
continued Georgios, " he calls in a relative, a wo-
man, of course, and asks her to go to the father of
the young man whom he would like to have marry his
girl. If the father is not living she goes to the mother,
and if she is not living the match-maker goes to the
young man himself. The father thus approached im-
mediately asks, not whether the young people know
each other or love each other, for they are not yet
considered in the transaction ; he asks what the girl's
father is worth, and how much he will give for the
privilege of having a daughter married to his son.
The go-between suggests ten thousand drachmas.
* No,' says the man, * it must be fifteen thousand.'
And then the haggling begins. Sometimes they
cannot make a trade and that ends the whole busi-
ness. If the dowry is sufficient, it is not indelicate
under the circumstances to ask the age of the girl.
The father broaches the matter to his son, and, if he
finds him inclined to marry, they go to see the girl.
If they live in the same town the young man I
will not say lover, for husbands in Greece fre-
quently do not love their wives until after they are
married the young man may have seen her before ;
but if they live in different towns he may not know
her, and may be pardoned for having a little curiosity
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 85
as to her looks. So he goes with friends, perhaps
the old man goes along too, and they make a
formal call. They do not say anything about mar-
riage. They talk about the weather and the crops
and avoid politics. If the young man does not take
a fancy to the girl, the matter may be dropped. It
happens frequently enough that he has ideas of his
own upon this subject. He wants one girl and his
father wants him to take another, and the father in-
sists upon his taking the one who has tjie most money
or threatens him with disinheritance." Georgios
spoke with as much positiveness as though he were
stating a proposition in mathematics.
'' But suppose," I suggested, " the girl does not
want the wooer."
*' Oh," he said, dropping into Attic Greek, *'that
seldom {airavlw^) happens. Frequently the girl learns
that she is to be married at the last moment, after
all the arrangements have been made. As a rule
the girl marries the man that her father and mother
choose for her." Had the Kyria, my landlady, been
near when this was said she would have lighted
another cigarette.
"But," continued Georgios, ''the bridegroom has
his sacrifices to make. It sometimes happens that
he marries a girl who is cross-eyed or lame, or defec-
tive in some way, because he wants the money. The
groom's father makes some presents to the bride, a
silk dress, or something of that kind. The father of
the bride gives a ring to the groom and the groom
presents one to the bride, either at the hour of the
marriage, or more generally when the compact
{(TVfjL(j)covLa) is completed." The Greeks, by the way,
1 86 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
do not deny musical significance to this word sy7it-
phony, but they also apply it to the agreement which
one makes with his hack-driver !
After the engagement the bridegroom-elect may
visit the girl's home every day, if he chooses, and
may possibly fall in love with her. The betrothal
is generally concluded at the house of the bride,
and a priest is there to bless both rings. The en-
gagement may last three months, six months or a
year. Marriages do not take place during Lent,
except under rare circumstances and by special
permission of the metropolitan. Away down in
Laconia (Mani), the big toe of the Peloponnesus, a
still more Spartan austerity is observed. After the
agreement is made the groom's father is obliged to
give a little money to the father of the girl and some
gifts to the daughter and to her mother; but even
after the exchange of rings the bridegroom is not
allowed to see the girl or to walk with her until the
wedding day. In other parts of Greece, I am told,
more freedom is allowed, and the bridegroom-elect
is treated as a son.
It was through the kindness of Pater Anthimos that
I was invited to an Athenian wedding, solemnized
by this archimandrite; not a wedding in high life,
but somewhere in the middle of the social crust.
On the table in the centre of the room was a tray
filled with candies and a large and beautifully bound
volume of the liturgy. The archimandrite wore a
robe of purplish blue with a gold sash. He was
assisted by a deacon in red, hkewise with a sash of
gold. Candles were brought in, the two largest, about
four feet in length, ornamented with long ribbons.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 87
After the candles were lighted, the bride entered on
the arm of her father, who did not wear a black coat
as fashionable society would have required. The
groom stood at the right of the bride, the best man
on the right of the bridegroom, and the bridesmaid
on the left of the bride her sister. The priest first
addressed the groom, and after his response gave him
a lighted candle ; the bride too responded with her
modest " yes," and received a candle likewise. The
priest and his assistant plunged into the liturgy and
intoned the service, which was by no means short.
A guest, though not arrayed in a wedding garment,
was not cast into outer darkness, and there was no
personal plea for mercy in his prayer as he held the
candle and sung Kyrie eleison. Two rings were laid
by the best man on the tray in front of the priest,
who took them both, blessed the groom three times,
placed a ring on his finger and did the same for the
bride. They did not rest there long, for the best
man took them both off, and after exchanging them,
replaced them on their fingers, over the white gloves,
which were not cut. Taking two crowns of artificial
flowers, the priest set one on the groom's head and
blessed it, and the other on the head of the bride,
and blessed that. The wreaths were then exchanged
by the best man, who put the bride's on the head of the
groom, and the groom's on the head of the bride. The
communion was then administered. A glass of wine
was set before the priest, and on it a plate with three
pieces of bread, which he broke into little bits and
dropped into the wine. Taking a spoon, he gave
some of the moistened bread to the bridegroom and
three spoonfuls of wine, the same to the bride, and
1 88 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the same to the best man. The reading from the
hturgy which followed was prolonged until I feared
that my good friend the archimandrite was going to
read through the whole volume. But the end finally
came. The priest, as described on page 140, took
the hand of the best man, and the best man that of
the groom and the groom that of the bride ; together
they went three times round the table, the company
meanwhile pelting the pair with candies. The step
was not a march nor a waltz, so much as a walk ; the
early dance has lost its elasticity in this service, just
as it is fashionable in these days to walk out cotillions
instead of dancing them.
The service was over and the members of the
family and guests came up and congratulated the
wedded pair, kissing the cheek of the bride and
also her wreath, while the young man was kissed by
the more intimate friends. Sweet wine was passed
around, and bon-bons tied up in a gauze bag were
given to each guest. The health of husband and
wife was of course drunk, and it was an act of
gallantry for a young man to step up to some young
lady present, and with glass in hand to say '^ ra
hiKcb aa^, '' Here is to your own wedding," though
Mr. Joseph Jefferson would translate it a little more
elaborately.
I regret that Mavilla was not present to give a
detailed account of the bride's dress. It was not
wholly of white, but had spangles and flowers
wrought into its texture. Orange blossoms adorned
both dress and coiffure.
Was this a Christian service, or a pagan one?
A little of both. The constant use of the number
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 89
three, the threefold blessing of groom and bride, the
threefold blessing of the ring and wreath, the three
pieces of bread and the three spoonfuls of wine, the
three times passing round the table, were all reverent
introductions of the Trinitarian formula; but the
bridal torches, the crowns of flowers, the shower of
candies, and the dance round the table, to which I
have before referred in the chapter on the Greek
theatre, are all survivals of old Greek customs. The
conjunctions of history are curious enough, and
among them it seems passing strange that an ancient
Greek dance subdued into a walk should have im-
perceptibly glided into the Christian ritual and be-
come with priestly participation a festive but reverent
ascription to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
In the country villages weddings are celebrated
with something more of rustic cheer and conviviality.
In ancient days the wedding customs in Sparta dif-
fered much from those in Attica, and I do not know
how general are some of the following village cus-
toms described by my Spartan friend. Two days
before the marriage the groom, with parents, relatives
and friends, goes to the house of the bride, where
all are received with the firing of pistols and with
abundance of wine and sweetmeats. The dowry is
paid over to the groom, and on the following Sunday
the marriage is celebrated, usually at the house of the
bride. When the ceremony takes place in church
the bride is conducted by her brother or by the best
man, and the service is concluded by the priest, the
best man, the husband and wife forming a circle,
when the shower of candies begins. In the con-
gratulations which follow, it is common to kiss the
I90 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
bride's wreath, and for all who are present to throw
money into the handkerchief of the priest.
A rustic habit, reserved for the nearest friends, is
that of striking the groom on the cheek. In the
dances which follow, the men take partners and form
almost a circle. The bride and groom dance round
a few times and take places at the end of the set;
the next couple follow, and the next, until all have
had a turn. Two or three musicians with their rustic
pipes literally inspire the dance, but the harp of
Demodocus is lacking.
A wedding procession also is common in the
country. At Pyrgos we saw one winding across the
plain. The bride rode in an open carriage, while
the guests were on horseback. The costumes were
highly picturesque, and the droning music of the
pipers reminded me of Scotch bag-pipes.
In Zante, as the Kyria told me, Thursday is the
fashionable marriage day, and for the poorer classes
Sunday, and the service is always held in the even-
ing. In arranging the marriage the go-between is
often a priest, because affairs must be conducted with
the greatest secrecy, so that if the arrangement fails
it will not be a matter of public notoriety. When
the peasants are poor the dowry may be so many
trees, say ten or twelve for the girl, or a vineyard.
The amount of money dowry is small in the islands,
sometimes not exceeding five hundred drachmas.
Nicholas, my driver in the Peloponnesus, said that
in his neighborhood the girl must have two or three
thousand drachmas, or a house, a vineyard or some-
thing else. *' In America," I said, " we marry not
for money, but for love," upon which he smiled, and
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA I91
said that there were some marriages for love in
Greece, and elopements were not unknown.
In Zante repeated earthquakes may have shaken
somewhat the stability of old customs, for a young
man may make his approach to his future bride in
a more romantic way. He may watch at the spring
for the girl he loves, and as she comes to draw water
or to wash clothes, he snatches the mandylion or
handkerchief from her head and keeps it. It is soon
known throughout the village that he has taken her
handkerchief. This involves an offer of marriage.
It would be a great insult if this offer were not soon
made to her father. In such cases the wooer is
generally successful, and he is obliged to accept just
what dowry her father offers. This is more of a
reversion to the Heroic Age, when the bride was
captured by force, or to the gallantry of Homeric
times, when bridal gifts or dowry were paid to the
father of the bride.
The wife's dowry becomes a protection to the
children. If she dies without having children, the
amount of her dowry must be paid back to her father.
If there are children and the man marries a second
time, they receive from his estate the amount of the
mother's dowry, and after a father's death the chil-
dren of the first marriage have a prior claim on the
estate for this amount. If there is anything left it
goes to the children of the second marriage. It is
not legal to marry more than thrice. The marriage
of cousins is forbidden within the sixth degree, and
the' marriage of a deceased wife's sister to her
brother-in-law, or of a deceased husband's brother
to his sister-in-law, is forbidden.
192 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
It is not usually the custom to marry a second
daughter until the first is married. This is well illus-
trated in Mr. Bikelas' humorous island tale, 'H "Ao-;^?;/^?;
'ASeX<f)7], " The Homely Sister." It is the story of a
dry-as-dust professor of philology whose life had
been saved by a young judge, and who had vowed
to devote his life to that of his saviour. The younger
man had fallen in love with the second daughter of
a merchant who had decided not to give her in
marriage until the older and plainer sister had first
been wedded. It is in this emergency that the eccen-
tric bachelor professor decides to sacrifice himself for
his friend and marry the plain-looking sister. He
rushes into the coffee-merchant's office in his busiest
hour and tells him he will marry his daughter. He
is received somewhat coldly, with the suggestion that
such matters are usually arranged through third par-
ties. A female cousin manages the affair more tact-
fully. A meeting of the professor and the homely
daughter is arranged. The fussy trepidation of the
old bachelor is amusing enough. His friend con-
ducts him to the door of the house and leaves him
to his fate. An hour later he comes out radiantly
happy. No one knows just what has occurred, but
he exclaims with delight, " Why, she is n't ugly at
all." Of course a double marriage is the result, and
though the professor looks somewhat comical in his
wedding wreath, the crown of flowers does not
become a crown of thorns.
It is easy to believe Georgios when he says that in
Sparta the children who run to tell a father that the
baby just born is a girl do not get much of a reward.
** In fact," said Georgios, " he is angry." It is not
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 1 93
etiquette for the mother to visit the neighbors until
forty days after the child is born. Then the mother
goes to church with the child and the nurse, and
offers prayers with the priest, who takes the child up
in his arms and goes round the holy table two or
three times. The father does not go to church on
this occasion. From this time the mother is free to
go where she pleases. The birth of a child is an
occasion for rural festivity. The neighbors bring in
candies and dainties, which, being too strong a diet for
the newcomer, are eaten by the rest of the family. If
the child is sickly and in danger of death, baptism is
administered at an early day. It is not valid without
a priest, and unless some one is designated as god-
father. If the child is well, the baptism takes place
when it is forty or fifty days old, and is usually
administered at the home ; but frequently the mother
wishes to christen the child in a church dedicated to
some saint. The mother, nurse and child go with
friends. When the priest reads the gospel before
the holy door the nurse puts down the child beneath
the picture of the saint to whom the mother has
dedicated it. No sooner is it put down than there
is a rush to get the baby's cap. He who gets it is
the godfather (i/owo?), or godmother. The mother
usually chooses the godfather, and for the first child
it is generally the person who has acted as best man
at the wedding. Likewise, when a person has become
godfather it is generally the rule to ask him to be
the best man at the wedding of his godchild. The
best man would be rather old in some cases for this
duty, which is often transferred to his son. Of course
the least the noitnos can do is to buy a dress for the
13
194 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
baby. He has also an important function at the
baptism. At this service two priests officiate. It
goes without saying that there is a crowd of relatives
and friends. The child is completely undressed.
The liturgy is read. The priest cuts with a pair of
scissors a few hairs from the infant's head and throws
them into the baptismal font. A small quantity of
olive oil brought by the godfather is likewise poured
into the font. The child is then held toward the west,
representing the kingdom of darkness, and is asked
three times by the priest if he renounces the evil
spirit. The godfather replies in his behalf, " I have
renounced him ; " and the exorcism of the devil is
completed by blowing and spitting three times. The
priest and the godfather, with the child, turn toward
the east, representing the kingdom of light, and the
sponsor is asked if he accepts Christ. A confession
of faith follows. The priest then plunges the child
three times into the font, the water of which has been
mercifully warmed. After being dried by a nurse
the infant is anointed by the priest, who touches its
forehead, chin, shoulders, navel and feet. Of course
other prayers follow. The child that does not kick
and squirm during the operation must have the forti-
tude of a Spartan.
After the baptism the nounos gives two or three
drachmas to the father or mother, flings a handful of
pennies {leptd) among the children, and gives to
each of the women present ten or twenty lepta. This
money is called ^aprvpLKa, that is, witness money
that the child has been baptized and is a Christian.
There are Greeks who do not have their children
baptized until they are ten or fifteen years of age.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 195
Adults are sometimes baptized in the river. To
postpone the rite is regarded as a sin by more
pious Greeks.
The descriptions I have given are mainly of rural
customs and those which are least affected by fashion-
able or modern innovations. In the homes of the
wealthy these festivals may be celebrated with pomp
and elegance. It must not be inferred, however, that
wealthy Greeks are necessarily any less Hellenic. It
would be hard to surpass in any country the record
for patriotism and fidelity to national traditions which
many of the wealthiest Greeks have made. If some
have sprung from the humblest walks of life they
have learned to use wealth without vulgarity, and
others reflect a fine culture like the beautiful polish
which their fathers put on their best marble.
Two representative homes in Athens were always
open to Americans. The Greek spirit which per-
vades the palatial home of Mrs. Schliemann is felt by
the visitor when he is met by a servant in immaculate
fustanella, who conducts him across the courtyard
whence five other men-servants direct him to the
great salon. Is this the palace of Menelaus? the
visitor may well ask in the midst of these luxuri-
ous surroundings. It is at any rate the home of
Agamemnon, and after he has recited with delightful
enunciation some passages of the Odyssey in Greek,
he will talk to you in good English and tell you that
he is really an American citizen, and will take delight
in showing you some of his father's valuable dis-
coveries. But you will need to hear Mrs. Schlie-
mann's own dramatic recital of her experiences with
her husband at Troy. At no home in Athens does
196 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
one get so vivid an impression of the vital relation of
the old Greece and the new. The magnificent house is
thoroughly modern, but it is adorned with old Greek
gnomes and enriched with treasures of art, ornaments,
jewels, trinkets, pottery and other fruits of the labor
of the remarkable explorer who with a faith and per-
severance not excelled by Columbus uncovered an
old world as Columbus discovered the new.
The other home, which during my winter in Athens,
as for many previous years, was the continual centre
of hospitality, was that of the Prime Minister, the late
Charilaos Trikoupes. In the salon, a veritable garden
of flowers, Miss Sophia Trikoupes, the accomplished
sister of the Prime Minister, was the gracious smiling
presence who with supreme tact and courtesy re-
ceived the innumerable guests that thronged her
receptions and relieved her brother, overburdened
with the cares of state, from the added pressure of
the social ritual. In the bereavement which fell upon
her and the country in the death of Mr. Trikoupes
she had the sympathy of many who admired the
genius of her brother and who had enjoyed her own
kindly hospitality. I cannot forget the home of
Pater Anthimos, the faithful archimandrite, a wise,
broad-minded and admirable shepherd for his flock;
nor the charming home of a lady who has helped
to lead the women of Athens into new privileges
and new duties, the editor of the Athens WomarCs
yournaly Madame Callirhoe Parren. No one can read
that paper without feeling that the new woman of
Athens, with her finer and larger culture, is to be
better than ever equipped for her duties as mother
and wife.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 197
As I lived for months in a Greek home, I know
it from the inside. I had no occasion to lock my
drawers or my trunk against the curiosity or cupid-
ity of Spiridion or Elizabeth, who were the souls of
honesty, and I am not cynical enough to believe that
the tears of the Kyria and her daughters and of
my faithful servant when I left Athens were such
as crocodiles shed on the waters of the Nile.
" Pray that you may not be in Greece in Lent,"
said a friend of mine; ''you will starve to death."
It is not only then that the lives of the people,
especially in the rural districts, are marked by ab-
stinence and frugality. Lent is no reaction from
violent excesses. The simplicity and frugality of
Greek tastes go back to days even beyond Lycurgus.
Abstinence is not a virtue, but a habit confirmed by
years of poverty. The peasant may not taste meat
for weeks at a time. Black bread and cheese, olives
and figs, and a little wine at his meals, with fish on
the sea-coast, and a few vegetables, furnish the staple
articles of diet. The wine drunk by the peasantry is
strongly flavored with resin, which is supposed to
preserve the wine and the wine drinker. It is a
curious draught to an unaccustomed palate. An
American who learned to like it sent a barrel to New
York. The custom-house officers were much per-
plexed, but finally entered it as turpentine ! I have
never seen a drunken woman in Greece at any time,
and rarely a drunken man, though there are crimes
of violence which come from wine-heated blood.
Such terrible scenes as London furnishes of women
and children crowding into bar-rooms and drinking
from the same cup are unknown in Greece, nor can
198 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Athens furnish a parallel to Piccadilly or the Boule-
vard Poissoniere. The social evil is not flagrant, and
the night-walker is almost unknown.
I have seen Greek homes under many aspects,
those of the rich in Athens, and those of the poor in
little villages, in the islands, in the mountains of the
Peloponnesus and on the plains of Thessaly, and I
have been impressed with the solidity of the virtues
which support the family life. They have something
of the strength and simplicity of the old Doric
temples. Frugality, temperance, contentment, an
unsophisticated rusticity which is not boorish, and
a kindly but unostentatious hospitality, are more
common than in the days of Baucis and Philemon.
Reverence for parents, brotherly and sisterly affec-
tion, are the rule rather than the exception.
The onerous custom of the dowry is felt not only
by the girls but by their brothers, who find in it,
however, an opportunity for brotherly sacrifice and
devotion. With a smile of satisfaction my friend
Demosthenes who is not an orator, but sells fruit
and candies in the Athens of America confided to
me that he had made enough money to send home
a dowry for one of his sisters. I have known young
men to fulfil with heroism vows not to marry until
they could give dowries to all their sisters. But the
girls sometimes take this matter into their own hands.
At Megalopolis I was surprised to find ten or twelve
girls wheeling barrows of dirt in the excavations of
the English School, not for love of antiquity, but
to earn something for their proika. In this way they
made two drachmas, or about thirty cents, a day,
improving their health as well as their fortunes.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 199
These country girls, with their brown or ruddy faces,
have no need of the cosmetics advertised in the
Athenian newspapers, which, modern though they
seem, are but the perpetuation of an ancient form of
vanity. In Xenophon's " CEconomicus" Ischomachus
relates a conversation that he had with his wife
shortly after his marriage :
*' ' I noticed that she was in the habit of using cos-
metics, that she might seem fairer and ruddier than
she was, and of wearing high shoes, that she might
appear taller than she was by nature. " Tell me, my
dear," said I, "should you esteem me more highly as
a sharer of your fortunes, if I told you exactly the
state of my property, or if I tried to deceive you by
exhibiting false coin, and necklaces of gilded wood,
and robes of spurious instead of genuine purple?"
She replied instantly, '* Heaven forbid ! Were you
such a man, I never could love you from my heart."
" Well, then, would you like me better if I appeared
before you sound and healthy, fair and vigorous, or
with painted cheeks and artificially colored eyelids,
trying to cheat you by offering you paint instead
of myself?" " Why," she said, ** I like you better
than paint; I prefer the natural color of your cheeks
to rouge, and I would rather look into your eyes
sparkling with health than with all the cosmetics
in the world." " Then I would have you to know
that I am more charmed with your native com-
plexion than with paint. These false pretences may
deceive the casual observer, but not those who live
together. They are exposed before the morning
toilette, or by perspiration, or by tears, or by the
bath."
200 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
" ' What in Heaven's name did she answer? ' asked
Socrates.
" 'Why, she said she would not do so any more,
and asked my advice as to the best means of making
herself really beautiful. I advised her not to sit all
the time, like a slave, but to be up and stirring ; to
look after the bread-maker, to stand over the house-
keeper as she measured out the allowance; to run
all over the house, and to see if everything was in
its place; for this would combine both duty and
exercise. I said that it was a good exercise also to
mix and knead the bread, to shake out the clothes
and make the beds; and that thus she would have
a better appetite, and grow healthier, and would in
reality appear handsomer. And now, Socrates, my
wife lives and practises according to my instructions,
and as I tell you.' " ^
Pascal had not invented the wheelbarrow when
Xenophon gave us his interesting picture of the
Greek household. It is not strange, therefore, that
Ischomachus did not suggest the use of this mono-
cycle. But many a young lady of Athens to-day is
fulfilling the spirit of his excellent advice by a daily
spin on her bicycle. The Athenians are as fond as
ever of new things, and though the bicycle is not
a Greek invention, Socrates would not fail to recog-
nize its Greek name. Philosopher as he was, he
would need no suggestion from Plato to see that this
new instrument is but the symbol of the Greek
woman's enlarging sphere of activity.
1 Felton's translation.
or THE
UNIVERSITY
OF
THE CHRISTIAN SHRINE
FROM PAGANISM TO CHRISTIANITY
The Acropolis and the Areopagus, I have said,
stand over against each other. Each of these rocks
symbolizes an epoch in the religious history of the
world. Even to-day they are in sharp contrast, the
Acropolis still reminding us of the splendor of pa-
ganism, the Areopagus recalling the humble origin of
Christianity. On the former the eyes need but little
aid from the imagination to reconstruct the ancient
temples in their early beauty; but the Areopagus,
lying much lower than its more stately rival, seems
as stern and barren, as unfitted for seed or harvest,
as when the Apostle stood there. No monument,
no chapel, no church reminds us of Paul. If he could
stand on the same rock to-day, he would find more
physical evidence of the decay of paganism than of
the triumph of Christianity. Unlike Rome, Athens
has no vast monuments of Christian architecture.]
The Greeks built small churches, some of them gems
of art; but they dwindle into chapels under the
magnificence of St. Peter's. Turning his eyes from
the ruined temples of the Acropolis, Paul would find
nothing more beautiful as a house of God than the
marble Theseion, which has survived the shocks of
202 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
war and earthquake for more than two thousand
years and still remains the most perfectly preserved
Doric temple in Greece. If Athens had nothing else
to offer, this alone would repay a pilgrimage. As for
the altar To an Unknown Gody 'Ayvcoarcp OeS, and
such altars were remarked by Pausanias as well as by
Paul, it has not been found; but I venture to say
that Athens still has devotees at the same shrine,
and modern agnosticism has affixed an interrogation
point after the name of God. The visitor wonders
why Athens has not made more of the Pauline
episode. There is a church in the city named after
Dionysius the Areopagite, who is said to have been
converted by Paul's discourse, but none dedicated
to the Apostle. It may be that the rocky pedestal
on which he stood, and still more the fragment of
the sermon he preached, are his best monument.
At Athens, as at Rome, one is compelled to ask
himself whether Christianity has conquered paganism
after all; whether the result of the contest was not
more of a compromise than a victory, the assimilation
of paganism rather than its destruction.
The modern Areopagus, the supreme court of
Greece, has moved its seat in these days to Stadion
Street. If in this high court before which Ares was
arraigned for murder, Christianity were tried for
deicide, the defender of the Christian pantheon might
perhaps secure an acquittal by showing that pagan
deities are not dead, but have taken refuge in Chris-
tian shrines. With a search-warrant from the same
court many of these gods might be found lurking
in Greek speech, customs, mythology and religious
rites. One must look in some other direction for
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 203
the triumph of the Christian spirit than to the tra-
ditions, dogmas, mythology and symbolism of the
Christian church. We cannot retrace carefully the
pathways of history without seeing that Christianity
was a growth, a development, in which the spirit of
Greek philosophy was partially reincarnated, and the
different attributes of the Greek gods were re-united
in the tri-theistic scheme of scholastic theology. The
simple, spiritual monotheism of Jesus presented a
sublime contrast to the innumerable personifications
of paganism, and it seemed at first as if the supreme
contribution of Hebraism to religion, the idea of the
unity of God, was, in the tender ascription of the
Lord's Prayer, to remain the sole theistic formula of
Christianity. This might have been the case if
Christianity had been propagated in Jewish communi-
ties only, but when it came into contact with Greek
thought and tradition it encountered a fervent form
of the deifying tendency which at that stage had
passed from the personification of nature to the ideali-
zation of human beings. If it had lost its reverence
for the old gods, it had still vitality enough to make
new ones. This Greek tendency which insisted upon
the temporary deification of Barnabas and Paul, found
a more permanent satisfaction in the apotheosis of
Jesus. The exaltation of the Plebrew peasant to a
place in the godhead, though nominally a victory for
Christianity, was essentially a triumph of paganism,
assisted by Jewish material derived from the Messi-
anic idea. The victory assumed new proportions
when the virgin goddess, adding to her functions that
of "the Mother of God," became a fourth person, the
idealization of maternity and womanhood, in the
204 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Christian pantheon. The retinue of demons, saints,
angels and superhuman beings was partly a develop-
ment, partly a degeneration from Greek and Hebrew
forms of the divine agency and manifestation. The
struggle between the Hebrew idea of unity and the
Greek conception of multiplicity is still continued
within the arena of Christianity. At times the pure
ethical theism of Jesus bursts forth with new inspira-
tion, and the Trinitarian formula becomes a thin, in-
definable theistic mist; at times Jesus of Nazareth is
lost in the deific splendor of the Messianic Christ.
Christianity is not yet at unity with itself.
It was an immense advantage to the new religion
to find already woven such a perfect elastic vesture as
the Greek language ; but it could not wholly wash out
of its texture traces of the early ideas it had served
to clothe. Even to this day there remain words
and conceptions in common use which were part of
the warp and woof of pagan mythology. But if
Christianity had to take the dross, it took also the
gold. The early glow of the Greek conception of
immortality faintly tingeing a dark background of
clouds burst into daybreak with Plato, and came into
high noon in Christianity. Above all, the moral
fervor of the Nazarene caught by his disciples made
itself felt like a purifying flame.
One can read scarcely any of the early Christian
apologists without feeling the insufficiency of their
intellectual defence of Christianity and the magnifi-
cence of their moral argument in its favor. Whether
we take the anonymous Mathetes, Aristides writing
at Athens his apology to the Emperor Hadrian, the
apologies of Justin Martyr, or Origen's reply to Celsus,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 205
it is the same. Again and again the apologists, wear-
ing like Justin and Aristides the philosopher's garb,
show that they have not only taken the clothes of
paganism but have put on some of its ideas.^ Thus
we find Justin pointing out pagan analogies to Chris-
tian doctrine and defending the miraculous birth of
Jesus against attack because the Greeks had taught
similar things. lie generously admits that there are
seeds of truth among all men, but the false teaching
of Greek mythology he ascribed to the work of
demons, a doctrine taught earlier by Paul and
which seemed to furnish a common ground for both
religions.2 On the other hand, Celsus, the pagan
critic, inverts the argument and shows that Christian
myths are of essentially the same material as Greek
ones. The moral vigor of Christianity and its new
fraternal socialism furnished a better solvent for de-
generate heathenism than its more feeble intellectual
appeals. In its ethical and social ideals, Christianity
was a new spiing-time to the world.
Remembering that we are on the Areopagus, we
may not forget the admirable courtesy of the Christian
preacher who quotes from Aratus, a Greek poet, in
proof of the universal fatherhood of God. Cleanthes
had a similar ascription in his beautiful hymn. One
must be careful not to confound the Greek religion
wholly with the terrible pictures painted by the apol-
ogists, as if such moral degeneracy were its only and
1 All the pagan usages which did not shock the new faith were
continued in Christian society; and it must be owned that the lan-
guage of the first Greek Christians accepts this alliance in a remark-
able manner. Byzantine Art. By Charles Texier and R. Popplewell
Pullah. Lond.
2 I Cor. X, 20.
206 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
inevitable result. We should not wish Christianity
to-day to be held solely responsible for the moral
darkness of any of the great cities of the modern
world. If we must take the Greek religion at its
worst, we must take it also at its best. If it did not
stand for the Unnamed and Invisible, as did Hebraism,
it incarnated and unveiled, as Hebraism failed to do,
the divinely Beautiful. It applied religion to the
whole range of human life ; it was not oppressed by
a hierarchy, and its ethical ideals and precepts have
formed a permanent contribution to the development
of human morals. Over the door of its temple
it could write : " He who enters the incense-filled
temple must be holy, and holiness is to have a pure
mind."
Externally there is such a strong difference between
the Greek temple and the Byzantine church that the
casual observer sees no relation between them. But
the heritage is there. It is seen first in the division
of the interior of the Byzantine church into three parts,
narthex, nave, and sanctuary, corresponding to
the pronaos, naos, and opisthodomos of the Greek
temple. The sub-division of these parts may obscure
but does not destroy the original threefold arrange-
ment. The pagan heritage is seen, too, in the orien-
tation of the Byzantine church with the altar towards
the east, a survival of the custom, found in Egyptian
as well as Greek temples, of having the axis of the
temple point to the rising sun. In the modern
churches the doors are at the west end, with the altar
at the other, so that the worshipper faces the east.
Early Christian writers tried with much ingenuity to
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 207
invest the practice with Christian significance. As
Jesus on the cross had turned his face toward the
west, so Christians during the hour of prayer must
turn towards the east in order to see his face. Neale
notes but two instances of departure from the custom
of orientation in Greek churches. An American
worshipper at Westminster sitting in the north tran-
sept where the seats face south was surprised to find
about half of the congregation turning in their pews
and facino; the east at certain times in the service.
We cannot deny that these Anglicans are good
Christians; we can only add that they are likewise
good pagans. A reaction from the practice of orien-
tation occurred in the ninth century, when it was
finally decided that God might be worshipped at or
towards any point of the compass, for God is every-
where.
In substance as well as in form, many of the old
Byzantine churches were built from stones of the
heathen temples which preceded them. A sense of
triumph was gratified in the building of Saint Sophia
at Constantinople by sacking Greek temples for the
material. Elsewhere economical as well as pious
reasons prevailed, and the Christian builders put in
stones or ornaments to save labor. This sometimes
produced a curious effect, as in the beautiful church
at Tegea, where all sorts of fragments have been
worked into the walls. In the little Metropolitan
Church at Athens an ancient Greek calendar of festi-
vals is used as a frieze, sanctified for the Christian eye
by the addition of crosses. ** The month Poseidon,
December and January, in which the Dionysus festi-
val took place, is symbolized by three athlothetes sit-
208 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ting behind the table with crowns. Below them are
two cocks about to fight on a palm branch." ^
The heathen legacy lurks also in customs and super-
stitions still current among the people. Every re-
ligion has its external and authoritative creeds and
formulas, but there is always a body of tradition or
belief held in solution in the minds of the people
and transmitted by oral tradition. The doctrine of
demons finds priestly recognition in the Greek bap-
tismal service when devils and demons are exorcised
by the priest by blowing and spitting; and Neale in
his history of the Eastern Church notes the popular
belief that those who die excommunicated cannot
return to dust, but become vampires ; that they are
tempted by evil spirits and roam about by night
seeking a body. The Greek word BaifKov, used in
the sense of divine power or to denote gods of lesser
rank, became the common term for evil spirits in
the New Testament, and retains that meaning to-
day. Under the general designation of the " angels "
or the ** devil and his demons," polytheism took
possession of the lower story of the Christian pan-
theon. In modern Greece a dread of devils and
demons survives among the more ignorant and super-
stitious peasantry. Fear mingled with irony or
humor has resulted in the use of various euphemisms
or polite terms with which to designate his Satanic
Majesty, just as the ancients propitiated the Erinyes
or Furies by describing them as the gracious god-
desses (^Ev/jbevlBe^^. A curious instance of this
euphemism is seen in the word for smallpox, etdogia,
1 Miss Jane Harrison's Mythology and Monuments of Ancient
Athens, p. 278.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 209
or blessing.^ On the other hand, to the devil and to
evil spirits are ascribed sickness and misfortune.
The New Testament term for epilepsy, o-eXTjvLd^o/xaL,
from the supposed influence of the moon upon this
disease, is retained, like our word lunatic.
The heathen gods have not always been turned
into demons; they also reappear as saints. Ships
which used to bear the figure of Poseidon now bear
that of Saint Nicholas, who is supposed to furnish the
same protection. Many churches have not only been
built from ancient material, but we find that " the
saint to whom they are dedicated has, as it were, by
compromise in the old struggle between paganism
and Christianity, often inherited the miraculous power
attributed to the deity whom he has superseded." ^
Mr. Rodd notes that '* a church dedicated to the
Panaghia Blastike (the virgin of fecundity) has been
shown to occupy the site of a temple of Eilythuia, the
deity who presided over childbirth, represented also
not unfrequently now by Saint Marina." Churches
dedicated to Saint Demetrius occupy the foundation
of several shrines of Demeter. At Athens, one of the
churches of Saint Nicholas is built on the site which
was sacred to Poseidon.^ The island of Naxos has
transferred the honor it once paid to Dionysus to the
Christian saint Dionysius, and fifty years ago a curious
story was in circulation as to how the saint brought
the grape to the island.*
1 This word is derived by some etymologists from ciKpXoyia
{(pXeyu, to burn), but all consciousness of this derivation has dis-
appeared in the popular use of the term.
2 Customs and Lore of Modern Greece, by Rennell Rodd, p. 140.
3 Ibid., p, 142.
* Hahn's Neugriechische Marchen.
14
2IO THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
The same adaptation of the heathen idea was seen
at Rome when the Pantheon became the Church of
All Saints. As Athene was the personification of di-
vine intellect, so it was easy, following the example
of Constantius, to change the Parthenon into St.
Sophia, the temple of Divine Wisdom, a personi-
fication which had become familiar in the gnostic
system.^
The names of some of the lesser deities, and even
some of their attributes, survive in the minds of the
more ignorant. Thus there are the Molpac or Fates,
generally three in number, who preside over marriage
and birth and are supposed to influence the new-born
child. They are recognized in the ballads of the
people and propitiated in various ways. Charon re-
appears as Xapo9. He is no longer simply the
ferryman wrangling about the fare, as Lucian describes
him in his witty parody ; he is the angel messenger,
the synonym of death. In Corfu and in several parts
of Epirus, when one dies it is common to say that
" Charon has taken him." In some of the Klephtic
ballads it is clear that the ancient Greek view of
death is more prevalent than the later Christian idea,
and that death is not regarded as a release or reward,
but as a deprivation of the joys of life, the brightness
of the sun, the green grass, the song of the bird. The
Nereids appear also in popular poetry, beautiful and
1 The custom of designating by the name of St. Sophia the
churches placed under invocation of the Divine Wisdom became
general among western writers, notwithstanding the confusion which
might have arisen by the fact that there was a saint by that same
name. It is impossible to enumerate all the Greek churches dedi-
cated to St. Sophia. The Emperors erected such in all the principal
towns of the empire. Byzantine Art. Texier and Pullah.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 211
accomplished creatures, living in wood and air, spring
and mountain.^
As we trace heathen influence in Christian doctrine,
ceremonies, tradition, and in the physical structure of
Christian temples, it is not surprising that it may be
found in the decorations and symbolism of Christian
art. It appears distinctly in the early representations
of Christ as Orpheus found on coins and in the cata-
combs. " While evidently adopted from the heathen
mythology, with which the early converts were so
familiar, its application to Christianity was felt to be
very legitimate. Orpheus, seated with his lyre among
the trees, and surrounded by the wild beasts that the
sweetness of his music had tamed, might well be
taken as an emblem of the attractive force of Christ." ^
The nimbus is also of heathen origin, and may be
found on the coins of the early emperors, a symbol
of power rather than holiness, and perhaps a souvenir
of sun worship. It was conferred by later artists upon
Satan? the Magi, and King Herod, and upon allegor-
ical figures. When the angel, the lion, the ox, and
the eagle represented the four apostles, the heads of
the creatures were encircled by the nimbus. The
phoenix was accepted by Tertullian as a symbol of
the resurrection, and the eagle which had served as
the symbol of Zeus became the symbol of John the
Evangelist. The lion appeared in many aspects.
Representations of the devil and of demons are not
found in the art of the first three or four centuries ;
1 For a full presentation of Modem Greek mythology, see M. B.
Schmidt's Volksleben der Neugiiechen, and MeAexT; enl rod fiiov rStP
NewTcpav 'E\\-f]V(i}V vnh N. T. UoAirov.
2 Syrabolism in Christian Art, by F. Edward Hulme.
212 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
in the Middle Ages they were depicted in horrible
and grotesque forms. On the other hand the honors
paid to the saints almost amounted to worship, and
in some churches not the Saviour, but the saint
to whom it was dedicated, was made the central
figure.
The Greek objection to images in or upon their
churches, as well as a better sense of what is congru-
ous in the relations of religion and art, has kept the
Greek Christian churches free from those grotesque
anomalies in art which disfigure English and Euro-
pean cathedrals. Seen as a whole, Salisbury in its
unity and beauty is an architectural psalm, but if one
pauses as he enters the west door to look at the gar-
goyles, his feelings become anything but worshipful.
It seems curious that such figures could have been
put on the front of a church to satirize the piety and
disturb the seriousness of those who enter. The
ugliness is not the ugliness of crudity; it exists in
immediate conjunction with figures of exquisite
beauty; the buffoonery is deliberate. Some of these
figures have a long pedigree, and find their origin in
early symbolism reproduced with quaint simplicity or
conscious exaggeration ; in others it seems that the
sculptor or carver, taking advantage of the spirit of
his time which permitted such extravagance, grati-
fied his sense of humor by introducing curious fig-
ures of his own invention. This love of satire was
shown in reproducing scriptural scenes and in deal-
ing with Old Testament miracles and characters.
Here the humor is introduced in the freedom with
which the artist treats the incident On the other
hand a large number of these representations seem to
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 213
be nothing but caricatures of the life and spirit of
the time. In Boston minster, in the choir stalls, a
schoolmaster is whipping a boy across his knee, and
a woman is beating her husband, as the verger ex-
plained to me, " because he had been out too late at
night." Elsewhere there are carvings of pigs playing
on the organ or on the harp. What a curious lot of
gargoyles all around the quad at Magdalen College !
They are as ridiculous as the Greek representations
of figures in Aristophanes, only the Greeks did not
put them on their churches. At Salisbury the curi-
ous wink of one of the figures shows where the work-
men meant the laugh to come in. Some woman-
hater has carved the serpent with a female head.
The clergy provoked the darts of satire. A head
with three faces caricatures a bishop looking all
ways at once. In that quaint old parish church at
Amesbury, which you may see on the way to Stone-
henge, a demon has caught hold of an unlucky
creature by the arm and is eating him, as the rec-
tor said, *' as if he were a radish." You cross the
channel to Normandy, and at Dol find seasick dogs
serving as gargoyles on the cathedral. Those at the
Palais de Justice at Rouen are especially long and
doleful, and appear to be howling dreadfully. At the
cathedral in the same city, there is a whole menagerie
of animals, rabbits, dogs, centaurs, monkeys with
pig heads and representations of many beasts that
never had any existence. The centaur is worked up
in all forms of extravagance ; a female saint has a
monkey or demon over her shoulder blowing a pair
of bellows just in front of her chin. But examples of
satire and sarcasm, of coarse caricature and comedy,
214 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
are too numerous to mention. A volume would be
needed merely to catalogue them.^
What a strong contrast in all this to the stateliness,
dignity and beauty of the old Greek temples ! On
the Parthenon was a lion's head as a waterspout, but
no demonic gargoyle, and among the grand sculp-
tures of tympanum and frieze no caricature disturbed
the sobriety of the worshipper.
II
THE MODERN GREEK CHURCH
Planted on Greek soil, deeply rooted in the sub-
stratum of the early religion and drawing nurture
from it, the modern Greek Church claims a Christian
history of nineteen centuries. It is easier to admit
its nineteen centuries of existence than nineteen cen-
turies of development. Prouder of appealing to its
traditions than of outgrowing them, it is not animated
by the progressive spirit, and, having adjusted itself
once for all to the problems of the past, sees no
reason why it should trouble itself about those of the
present. To a New England Congregationalist unac-
customed to a liturgy or the tactics and pomp of re-
ligious ritual, the modern Greek Church is peculiar.
The difficult problems which oppress the parish com-
mittee in New England are unknown in Greece. The
1 For a valuable discussion of this whole subject, together with the
bibliography, see " Animal Symbolism in Ecclesiastical Architecture,"
by E. p. Evans, New York, 1896. For those at Rouen, see Jules
Adeline, " Les Sculptures Grotesques et Symboliques " (Rouen et
environs) Rouen, 1879.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 2l5
pew question in its varied forms does not appear,
because there are no pews in a Greek church and
everybody stands. The question as to which one of
half a dozen preachers shall be engaged does not vex
the congregation, for the parish priest does not preach.
The problem of the minister's salary is avoided by
not paying him any. There is no occasion to quarrel
over hymn-books or choir, for neither exists in our
sense of the word, and the antiphonal responses of
nasal priests and acolytes would hardly be called
music. The practice of dividing the sexes which was
common in New England fifty years ago still pre-
vails in Greece. If there is a gallery, as in the Met-
ropolitan Church at Athens, the women are assigned
to it. If not, they stand on one side of the church
and the men on the other. An American Baptist
would claim an affinity with this ancient church in its
application of the rite by immersion ; but he must be-
ware how he appeals to the Greek usage, since they
immerse infants thrice, when to a Presbyterian a few
drops of water applied once would suffice. The
traveller who comes to Athens from Rome assumes
at first that ecclesiastically Athens and Rome are
not far apart. He soon finds that as far as is the
east from the west, so far is Athens from Rome.
They each claim to be built upon an apostolic rock.
" Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I build my
church," says Rome, metaphorically, while Athens
points with literal pride to the rock upon which Paul
preached his sermon. Just as these two apostles
stood over against each other in New Testament
times, so the Petrine and Pauline churches seem to
stand over against each other to-day. Joined to-
2l6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
gether for centuries, the differences between these
ancient churches now seem to be irreconcilable.
As he enters a Greek church the visitor will find
no chapels flanking the aisles, as in a Roman Catho-
lic cathedral; there is but one altar, and that he
will not see. A screen with three doors hides it
from view and, divides the sanctuary from the nave.
The statues which abound in the Roman church are
entirely absent in the Greek, but there are pictures of
the saints and the Virgin called *' icons " or " images."
They recall the great iconoclastic controversies which
raged in the East and the West, and in which the
Hebrew and the Greek spirit came into conflict.
When we remember what Paul said at Athens
against idolatry, ** We ought not to think that the
Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven
by art and man's device," it is interesting to think of
the battle on this very subject which came up a few
centuries later, and which was continued till 842 A. D.
in the Eastern church, when the use of images was
finally sanctioned. But the victory for paganism was
not a victory for art. Undoubtedly the old Greeks
made precisely the same distinctions that were made
in the image-worship controversy; the more intelli-
gent regarded the image as a symbol, the ignorant
worshipped the picture or the stone. Many of the
Greek images were exquisite works of art; in the
Christian church a miserable daub might answer
the purpose of worship as well as a more perfect
picture.
The Greek, like the Roman, makes the sign of the
cross, but in a different way. It is occasionally used,
as Neander says it was in the days of Tertullian, " as
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 21/
the sign which the Christians unconsciously made in all
cases of sudden surprise." An acolyte in a monastery
suddenly crossed himself when I told him something
novel, even though there was nothing dangerous in
the information. He used the sign as an exclamation
point or a pious interjection.
Unlike the Roman Church, the Greek Church ad-
ministers the communion in both kinds, using leavened
bread, the outcome of another controversy, and
giving the wine in a spoon. The priests are Naza-
renes, shaving neither head nor beard. Marriage is
permitted to priests before their ordination ; but no
priest can marry a second time after the death of his
wife, nor can he become a bishop and remain in the
marriage relation. His wife, if he had one, would
retire to a convent; but promotions are invariably
made from unmarried clergymen.
The full title of the Greek Church is The Holy
Oriental Orthodox Catholic Apostolic Church. The
doctrinal contents of the creeds of the Eastern and
Western churches are essentially the same. The Ni-
cene Creed is the basis of all the confessions; but that
little word Jilioqtie, which lighted raging flames of con-
troversy wherein the procession of the Holy Spirit
was declared from the Son as well as from the Father,
is omitted from the Greek creed. The dogma of the
Papal infallibility has likewise no place in it.
The Greek Church proper, like the Russian and
other national churches of the same faith, is gov-
erned by a synod. The metropolitan is the official
head of the church, but there is a close union be-
tween State and Church, and in the matter of pre-
ferments and appointments the political authority is
2l8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
superior to the ecclesiastical. There are three orders
of priesthood, deacons, elders and bishops. The
officers of the church are archdeacons, archimandrites,
archbishops, metropolitans, and patriarchs. The name
patriarch is retained by the patriarch at Constanti-
nople, but he has no authority over the churches in
Greece, Russia, Bulgaria or Servia. The only remin-
iscence of his supremacy is seen in his preparation
and blessing of the consecrating oil.
The Greek priests, on the whole, are more paternal
than autocratic. Many of them are very ignorant,
and could not preach a sermon if they were required
to do so. Only those having special fitness as
preachers are engaged for that office. Ecclesiastical
schools have been established, and there is one in
Athens to which young men preparing themselves
for the priesthood are admitted and taught from four
to five years. Some go in to the university in the
theological department; many others, under the in-
fluence of modern education, become philologists,
doctors, and lawyers. When the candidate has
reached the age of twenty-five years he may become
a deacon, and at thirty a priest. Of the deacons, part
are married and part are unmarried, but they cannot
marry after ordination ; and an archimandrite, like a
bishop, must be unmarried. For elevation to the
bishopric the synod nominates three persons, of
whom the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Pub-
lic Education chooses one. The priests receive no
stipend from the government nor from the congre-
gation. The monasteries have been alarmed by a
proposed scheme for selling all monastic property and
establishing a salary fund for the clergy. Some of
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 219
the monasteries are very rich. One on the slope of
Pentelicus, which I visited, has an income of two hun-
dred thousand francs a year. The parish priest is
wholly dependent, however, upon the fees he receives
from marriages, baptisms, consecration of a new
house, prayers for the dead and other priestly minis-
trations. In the country, priests often do not receive
more than $75 to $175 a year, and in Athens, from
$225 to $375, in the way of offerings. The salary of
the metropolitan is six thousand drachmas, which,
with the present depreciation of the drachma, is about
$750. An archbishop receives five thousand drachmas
and a bishop four thousand. The parish priest is gen-
erally obliged to eke out his income by other occupa-
tions, usually by farming or keeping a store. The
priests thus stand less apart from the life of the
people than they do in Italy. Many of them are earn-
est, sweet-spirited men who tenderly lead their flock.
When I think of the Greek priests, I think not so
much of the nasal phonograph who is mechanically
repeating the service, as of the sweet-faced, Christ-like
man I saw in Euboea, the prison chaplain in Athens,
who to me was a modern version of the Apostle
John, Pater Anthimos, broad-chested, liberal, studi-
ous and large-hearted ; and I think of the charming
picture which Bikelas has drawn of Papa Narkissos
in his *' Tales of the JEgean.''
A pleasant picture comes up before me, too, of the
late Metropolitan Germanus, a man honored and es-
teemed for his learning, piety, and kindly heart. He
received me with warmth, and expressed his interest
in America. When I asked him how it was that the
Greek Church was able to maintain its unity so com-
220 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
pletely, especially in these modern days, he picked
up his Greek Testament, which lay conveniently near,
turned to 2 Thessalonians, ii., and put his finger on
the fifteenth verse :
"Apa ovv^ aSe\(f>OL, aTrjKere, koL Kparelre Ta<i irapa-
SoVei?, a? iBiBdxOrjre, etre ha \6yov elVe Sl* i'jnaroXrjf;
rjpLOiv. " So, then, brethren, stand fast, and hold the
traditions which ye were taught, whether by word, or
by epistle of ours."
" It is," he said, ** because we have followed the
apostle's injunction."
After a pleasant conversation I took his hand, on
leaving, to kiss it, according to Eastern custom. Ke
held it down, however, to prevent this tribute of re-
spect, then threw his arms over my shoulders and
kissed me on each cheek. The validity of a Protestant
ordination he recognized by inviting me to attend the
services in the Metropolitan Church on the approach-
ing fete and to witness the ceremonies at the altar
behind the screen. This is a privilege not accorded
to the layman, whether peasant or king.
The Greek Church is ceremonial in the highest de-
gree. To an outsider its ritual is long and wearisome,
but I have talked with devout and intelligent Greeks
who found in it the greatest happiness. It lacks
the grandeur of organ, orchestra, and voices, which
often make the service in the Roman Church impres-
sive. Its extensive liturgy is contained in several
volumes. A Greek friend waxed eloquent as he
spoke of the tenderness and beauty of the Passion
service. "There are beauties in our Passion service,"
said my friend, '* that you will not find in any other
church." A cultivated lady likewise assured me of
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 221
the satisfaction which devout and poetic members of
the Greek Church reared in its worship might find
in its offices. The dogmas of the Church are not ob-
truded ; a mystic veil of allusion or symbolism seems
to invest the whole service. The holy table, its four
legs, the doors of the screen, the sacred vessels are all
highly symbolical, and no Svvedenborgian deahng with
the Old Testament rites could go further in claiming
correspondence and analogy.
The Church is not only a religious but a patriotic
institution. Its national character gives it a strong
hold upon the people, and upon the great fete days the
churches are crowded, and the men are as numerous
as the women. The king being a Lutheran, is not a
member of the church, but the queen, the crown
prince, and other members of the royal family are
included in its membership and give eclat to its
festivals. Of these the most impressive are Good
Friday and Easter. On Good Friday evening, after
a long service in the cathedral, a veiled image of the
Saviour, laid on a bier and covered with flowers, is
borne through the streets, escorted by a band play-
ing a dirge and priests bearing the shroud of Jesus.
Men, women and children with lighted candles join
the procession, but the solemn effect is somewhat
disturbed by the Roman candles, Bengal lights and
other fireworks from windows all along the line of
march. To an American it seems like a funeral held
on the eve of the Fourth of July.
The Easter service is the joyful climax of a Lent
of abstinence and sorrow. The service begins on
Saturday night. At Athens it is conducted in the
cathedral by the metropolitan with crosier, mitre,
222 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
and brilliant robes. Immense throngs flock to the
church. Regiments- of infantry deployed through
the streets keep the way open for the royal family,
who are escorted to the cathedral by a guard of
cavalry. The ministers of State and other civil offi-
cials follow in carriages, and take places assigned to
them in the cathedral. The square outside is bril-
liantly illuminated, and a platform has been erected
and decorated. Just before midnight the metropoli-
tan lights a candle, saying, " Come, take light from
the everlasting light, and glorify Christ our God, who
has risen from the dead." The prime minister lights
his torch from that of the metropolitan. The other
ministers follow, the light goes from torch to torch,
from priest to people. Headed by the metropolitan,
the procession marches out of the cathedral, and just
at twelve o'clock from the platform in the square the
metropolitan proclaims to the multitude that '' Christ
is risen," Xpto-ro? aviarr]. Bells and cannon take
up the theme. The Roman candles and fireworks,
which seem to be out of place on Good Friday,
now symbolize life and immortality brought to light.
Joyful greetings, " Christ is risen," pass through the
crowd. The Lenten fast is over, and on the steps of
the cathedral, and on the streets, the people eat the
colored boiled eggs they had brought in their pockets
and then go home to more elaborate feasts.
On Easter morning, as I called at my photogra-
pher's, I said, X/oto-To? avearr). He returned the salu-
tation and immediately brought me an egg in a saucer,
but without a spoon. For some days all other forms of
salutation give way to that of " Christ is risen," and the
answer is, 'AXtjOw^ apearr], " He is risen indeed."
ATTIC DAYS
I CANNOT say "Attic Nights," for that title has
already been appropriated by '* the gentleman who pre-
ceded me." His name if it is not unparliamentary to
mention it is Aulus Gellius, and he lived some 1750
years ago. He was born at Rome, but had the good
fortune to go to Athens to study. While there he kept
a commonplace book in which he jotted down what-
ever he happened to see or read or hear that was curi-
ous, his object being to provide his children as well as
himself with innocent relaxation. As it was written
during the winter evenings, he called his book " Noctes
Atticae." It is a sort of " crazy quilt," made from a liter-
ary scrap-bag, with little order or arrangement, but it
affords a wide variety of information upon a good many
subjects. There are notes and dissertations on cus-
toms, manners, grammar, marriage, divorce, loquacity,
music, the patience of Socrates, the frugality of the
ancients, Alexander's horse Bucephalus, memory,
Herodes Atticus, and a multitude of other themes.
As the book has lasted for more than seventeen centu-
ries, it is natural that others should be emulous of his
immortality, and try to attain it in the same way.
Gellius exhausted the Attic nights, but fortunately
left the Attic days to posterity, and I feel at liberty
to appropriate a small share of them. I should
despair of equalling his success if I did not in this
tessellated chapter rival the miscellaneous character
of his commonplace book.
A COMrOSITE DAY
Homer liked to begin his day with the " rosy fin-
gered dawn," and so did the cock that crowed on
Homer Street. In this he differed much from my
friend the diplomat, who probably did not see a sun-
rise while he was in Athens. I tried to make myself
believe that this cock was crowing hexameters with
a caesura in the third foot,
'HcXtoy S' dvopova-f, \ Xittcou TrepiKoKXea Xifxvrjv,
although we might more naturally expect of a rooster
the bucolic diaeresis. But in fact he did not seem to
be talking Greek at all ; nothing but good barnyard
English. The Greeks refuse to say that a rooster
" crows *' ; nor do they, like the French, describe him
as singing. They speak of him as *' phoning," using
to-day exactly the same term which the Evangelist
applied to the cock that woke the conscience of
Peter. Oddly enough, we have adopted the word
in English, and now speak in good Greek of "phon-
ing " to our friends. " In Greece," says Mr. Edward
A. Freeman, " animals seem to send forth louder and
clearer notes than in other parts of the world," and he
assumes that in Corinth the cocks crow even louder
than in Athens. If the distinguished historian in-
tended this as a challenge for a vocal contest I would
match the Doric rooster in Athens against any cock
of the Corinthian order. It helps to make one feel
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 225
at home, however, to find roosters crowing, dogs
barking, children laughing, birds singing, horses
neighing, in your own language. I did find one
bird talking Greek. It was a parrot at Salamis:
TraTraydXo wpalo, " Pretty Polly." The effect was
startling, especially to hear a modern Italian noun
coupled with an adjective which Pindar and Plato
used. Even parrots in two words remind you of the
new Greece and its hoary past.
If the phoning of the rooster did not " call me up,"
Spiridion was sure to do so when he brought my
cup of hot milk and a breakfast roll with the morning
paper. Scarcely was the breakfast finished at eight,
when the step of Georgios was heard on the stairs,
and an hour was spent in reading or talking Greek.
Martial music on the street at nine o'clock every
morning announced the guard mount at the war
office.
Then one had a chance to decide in what century
he would spend the next few hours. You could as-
cend the Acropolis and live in the age of Pericles,
or step into the Museum and live in pre-Persian days.
You could return by way of the Areopagus, walk into
the Christian era, preserve your historic continuity
by passing through the stoa of Hadrian in your
Roman toga, and enter the Byzantine era at the little
Metropolitan Church. From this you could stride
again into the nineteenth century in time for luncheon
at half-past twelve. If you are making a specialty
of epigraphy, ancient inscriptions in the Museum are
legible indeed compared with the task of decipher-
ing a Greek bill of fare in an average restaurant. But,
like the Rosctta Stone, one often finds it bi-lingual,
IS
226 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
and if he cannot read the Greek scrawl for kreas,
psomi, and avgay he can get his bearings with viande,
pain, and oeiifs. In the larger hotels one finds Gallic
cooking as well as Gallic speech; but to know and
appreciate the mysteries and possibilities of Greek
cooking one must live in a family.
Of course you may have preferred to spend your
morning in the charming reading-room of the Ameri-
can Archaeological School, or with Professor Tarbell
and his students wandering like belated ghosts among
the Attic grave reliefs at the National Museum, or
in gayer mood disporting yourself among the ex-
quisite Tanagra figures or making a somersault into
still more ancient history among the treasures of
Mycenae. Becoming all things to all men, you
pricked up your French ears when you attended
the opening session of the French Archaeological
School, became a Teuton when you went to the
German Institute, Hellenized yourself at the Uni-
versity when you heard its professors, and An-
glicized yourself at some meeting of the British
Archaeological School. Every Saturday afternoon
at two o'clock, from October to March, a band of
archaeologists gathered round Dr. Dorpfeld to hear
his lecture on the monuments of Athens. It was
a peripatetic school like that of the Stagirite; and
Aristotle himself, the forerunner of modern science,
would have been delighted at the lecturer's mar-
vellous command of facts and his wonderful skill in
putting them together. Beginning with the Acrop-
olis, all the principal monuments in Athens above
ground, and some below ground, were visited by
this pilgrim band. There were days when chill bleak
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 22/
winds blustered over the ancient hill or gathered up
the dust in spirals and swept round the theatre of
Dionysus. There were days when the ground was
damp and the stones were cold, but not a single week
for five months was a lecture omitted on account of
weather. It helps us to understand how Plato, Sopho-
cles, and Aristotle used to teach out of doors !
On Sunday one could go to the Greek Church in
the morning, and then have time to hear Dr. Kalo-
pothakes preach a sermon in his little chapel near
the Arch of Hadrian and hear the Greeks sing " Old
Hundred," ''Missionary Chant," and "Greenville,"
among two hundred other tunes from American and
English hymnals, the words themselves mostly trans-
lated from the same sources. Among them you would
recognize " Nearer, my God, to thee."
'Eyyvrepov, Gee,
'ETriTToBS)
'Eyyvrepov npos 2e
N' dw^coBo).
"Eara k im aravpov
Qavdrov crTvyepov
*ApKel va evpcBa
*Eyyvs Trpos 2e'.
Beyond the Arch of Hadrian, in imposing contrast
to this humble evangelical chapel, stand the fifteen
colossal Corinthian columns of the great temple of
the Olympian Zeus, like an echo from the past to
Miss Adams's hymn voicing the soul's aspiration for
God.
As for your Attic nights, if you did not spend
them with Aulus Gellius, you could go to the Ameri-
can Archaeological School and hear Professor J. R.
228 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Wheeler's valuable lectures on the Athens of the
Middle Ages, or drop into the Parnassus Club and
hear Professor Lambros on " The Early Agora," or
listen to the one event of the season in chamber
music, the concert of the Vienna string quartet; or,
if you were fortunate enough to get a ticket, go to
see Sarah Bernhardt, over whom Athens goes crazy.
As Greek plays and operas seldom begin before half-
past eight, and sometimes do not get fairly launched
before nine, and then last until after midnight, you
might sometimes hear the Homeric cock crowing
again before you got to bed.
II
THE ATHENIAN PRESS
A DOZEN daily newspapers, morning and evening,
flourish in the air of Athens. I doubt if there is any
other city which has so many in proportion to its
population. It is a new evidence of the activity of
the Greek intellect, and of the ramifications of Greek
politics. News is not more plentiful in Athens than
elsewhere, but nowhere, perhaps, are opinions so
abundant. One of the restaurants bears the sign 'H
KoLVT] TvQ)fjL7], Public Opinion ; but the public opinion of
Athens could not be concentrated in so small a space,
and even a dozen newspapers cannot give it full
expression. Its variety and abundance grows out
of the independent, democratic character of the Greek
mind. I know of no country on the face of the globe
in which democracy is more rampant and more indi-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 229
vidualistic. To me this is one of the surest evidences
that the Greeks are children of their fathers. Not
even a dozen newspapers can express all the shades
of party feeling or of public opinion. You must go
to Constitution Square in times of political excite-
ment, hear the hum of excited voices round the res-
taurants, and see the very air dizzy with discussion.
You will not be surprised, therefore, as you take
your breakfast, to find one paper pitching into the
Prime Minister without gloves, while another is return-
ing blows dealt by its adversary in a previous issue.
You will not be surprised to find editors making ugly
faces at the royal family, shrugging their shoulders
at the amount of the royal budget, bewailing the
inefficiency of the army, or attacking the financial
policy of the government; and you may be sure that
somebody else will speak in their defence. In Ger-
many these doughty editors would be put in prison
after due or undue process of law; in Greece, criti-
cism exhales freely into the air. The liberty of the
press is not abridged. On account of the repeated
attacks of that paper on the army, a club of army
officers foolishly attacked the office of the Acropolis
and destroyed a good deal of property; but they
really damaged their own cause by this cowardly
method of mob violence, and public opinion con-
demned them. The absurd practice of duelling still
exists in Greece, but fortunately most of it is done
with pen and ink.
The best papers furnish news as well as opinions.
It is served in readable paragraphs, telegraphic
flashes, in letters of correspondents, and industrious
There is an abstract of debates in
230 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Parliament. Loving discussion as much as they do,
the wonder is that the Greeks have not two legis-
lative chambers instead of one. There are the usual
police items, reports of thefts, fires, accidents, murders
and suicides, and a sufficient amount of social gossip.
The journals have not reached the enormous propor-
tions of our metropolitan dailies; the regular issue is
not larger than four pages of an average American
daily. A ministerial crisis, a revolution in Crete,
a Zante earthquake will bring out an eruption of
" scare heads ; " but the journals are far less sensational
and much more respectable than a great many Amer-
ican newspapers. They are generous too in aiding
philanthropic enterprises. Wishing to stir up public
opinion in Athens in relation to the proper protection
of animals, I found the columns of the newspapers
freely open to me, and my communications were
clinched and supported by the editorial pen.
The Greek newspapers draw freely from the French
and English, and sometimes repeat their mistakes
about America. But though it is natural to expect
a little mythology in Greek journals, they cannot
begin to compete with American newspapers in fabri-
cating it.
It is in the advertisements that new things are
strangely clothed in the raiment of the old speech.
Here is an illustrated advertisement of a sewing
machine, 'H 'FairTOfiTjxciVT}, covering half a page;
near to it an advertisement of HoErjXara, bicycles.
The virtues of Se/iovXim, a cereal food, are extolled
as a diet for the sick and the aged. Patent medicines,
hair restoratives, appeal for the faith once reposed in
Athene Hygieia. There are "Rooms to Let," and
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 23 1
" Situations Wanted." Advertisements of new books,
wine and whiskey, the opening of schools, the move-
ments of steamers. The barber-shop, that indis-
pensable adjunct and lounging place of the ancient
Athenians, is announced in this attractive form :
On the lower floor of the M Building is the barber-
shop of Spiridion K. Arranged in the most elegant Euro-
pean style. No one ever leaves it dissatisfied, so light and
Parisian is the art of shaving and hair-cutting in this shop.
Uniquely artistic, it is recommended by all, and continually
resorted to by those who love a good-looking face.
That the Greeks have not wholly lost their faith in
human nature, and that they have not accepted the
communism which prevails in this country, is seen in
an advertisement for a lost umbrella. Who would
think of advertising for one in our land?
XBes Trjv vvKTii aTTcoXeadr) I ofi^pfKXa eVi rrjs 6S0O SraStov, dvriKpv
rrjs "ETpaTKOTiKTjs Xeax^s. 'O vpa>v TrapaKaXetTai va rrjv <j)pTj els t6
7rtXo7ra>Xetoj/ tov /c. 'PavroTTouXov, ttXtjciov rrjs BovXrjsj Xap^avatv iv
dojpov.
Last night an umbrella was lost upon Stadion Street, oppo-
site the Military Club. The finder is requested to leave it at
the hat store of Mr. R., near the Parliament, and receive
a reward.
The persistence of ancient forms in the literary
idiom is seen in the Greek of this advertisement.
There is only one word in it which would puzzle
Xenophon, or which the modern schoolboy who
has begun to read him will not find in Liddell and
Scott. The purists have Atticized "umbrella" into
aXe^L^po'^ov.
Of course the Athenian newspaper has its funny
232 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
man, but I am disposed to believe that a good deal
of the Attic salt is imported, and is one of the few
things which go into Greece free of duty. For
example :
A young man is hunting a girl with a good dowry. He
puts this question to a lawyer who has learned to get cash
payment for his advice : " I would like to ask, sir, if you
think your daughter would make a suitable wife for me ? "
"No, I do not think she would. Seven and a half
drachmas, if you please."
A preacher says to his cook, " You had a workman eating
with you last evening, Mary."
" He was my brother."
" But you told me that you had no brother."
"Yes, but didn't you preach last Sunday that we were
all brothers and sisters.?"
These jokes have a decidedly American flavor.
But I wonder if these Greek humorists have ex-
hausted the treasures of the Greek anthology, and
why they do not publish some of the witty sayings
which made Athens laugh two thousand years ago.
In the way of exaggeration, sarcasm and light banter,
nothing could exceed the saltiness of some of the
ancient epigrams.
Little Hermogenes, when he lets anything fall on the
ground, has to drag it down to him with a hook at the end
of a pole.
Lean Gaius yesterday breathed his very last breath,
and left nothing at all for burial, but having passed down
into Hades just as he was in life, flutters there the thinnest
of the anatomies under earth ; and his kinsfolk lifted an
empty bier on their shoulders, inscribing above it, " This is
Gaius' funeral.''
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 233
Marcus the doctor called yesterday on the marble Zeus ;
though marble, and though Zeus, his funeral is to-day.
All hail, seven pupils of Aristides the rhetorician, four walls
and three benches.
Antiochus once set eyes on Lysimachus' cushion, and
Lysimachus never set eyes on his cushion again.
Philo had a boat, the " Salvation," but not Zeus himself, I
believe, can be safe in her; for she was salvation in name
only, and those on board her used either to go aground or
to go underground.^
Ill
AN ATHENIAN SCHOOLBOY
The school boys and girls trudge by. A peda-
gogue does not lead them to-day, and they have to
carry their own books; but they will be sure to meet
the pedagogue when they get to school, for he
bears the same name though his functions have
changed. Even the son of the sausage-seller, who
was strangely neglected by his parents in ancient
times, may sit to-day with the son of a banker or
a philosopher. Plato's dream about public schools
and public school teachers paid by the state did not
come true in his day, but is true in ours. Unlike the
ancient pedagogues, the teachers are not slaves, but
they work as hard as if they were, and the pay is very
small. But what a satisfaction it would have been for
Plato, who was himself a teacher in the " Academy,"
1 Select Epigrams from the Greek Anthology. Translated by J.
W. Mackail.
234 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
to learn that there are three thousand primary and
secondary schools in Greece, one hundred and forty
thousand pupils, and thirty-seven hundred teachers,
with a Greek university at the top ! The pay of
the teachers ranges from twenty-five to thirty-five
dollars a month. Even the head master receives
but three hundred drachmas a month, which ought
to mean fifty-four dollars, but which in gold may
mean but thirty-five or forty. There are also pri-
vate schools; be careful that you do not misread
their signs. In a walk one day I noticed the sign
^IBlcotlkop ^'x^oXecov. I naturally thought it was a
school for idiots, as the word " idioticon " would liter-
ally suggest in English ; but I found that the Greeks
still use the word IBicIottj^ in its original meaning of a
private individual, and that therefore the sign simply
meant a " Private School " ! This is a good example
of the tenacity with which some words retain their
early root flavor. Then there are schools which have
been endowed by private enterprise but are under
state inspection and control. The Arsakeion in Athens
is a girls' high and normal school named in honor of
the founder. The Rev. Dr. Hill, an American mis-
sionary of the Episcopal Church, is held in grateful
remembrance by the people of Athens for the stimu-
lus he gave to education and for the two schools, one
primary and the other an advanced school for girls,
which he founded. Dr. Hill refused to regard the
Greeks as heathen, and did not therefore attempt to
convert them to his form of Christianity. " We shall
always remember him with gratitude and love," said
Miss Sophia Trikoupes to me one day.
*' A little child shall lead them." In the old days
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 235
the pedagogue led the child, but in these days the
child often leads the pedagogue. It seemed to me
that seeking to get into the spirit and life of the mod-
ern tongue I might find something in a school for chil-
dren that I could not find in the university. It is not
usual for a pupil to be in the university and in the
primary school at the same time, but I found it very
interesting to go to school in the morning for two
hours, and then to hear lectures at the university in
the afternoon. This primary school founded by Dr.
Hill is still called the "American School." ^Eschines
in his oration '* Against Timarchus " says that an older
person was not allowed to enter the school during
school hours when children were there unless one
happened to be a brother, a daughter, or a son of a
teacher, and the penalty was death. As I did not
know whether this ancient law had ever been re-
pealed, and had no desire of risking my life merely
for the sake of getting an education, I claimed re-
lationship with the whole school as an American
cousin, and was graciously received by Miss Muir,
the principal, and her assistants. I was assigned to
a class of girls from twelve to fifteen years of age
under Miss Marigo Vlachou. With the modesty of
aged infancy I took a back seat, and for two hours
every day, when other engagements did not prevent,
used to sit and listen to the recitations of the girls
of my class. Sometimes it was the history of Greece,
then geography, arithmetic, physiology, reading or
grammar. The teacher would call Maria there
were three of them in the class to the blackboard
to write from dictation one of ^sop's fables. The
rest of the class would write it down in notebooks.
236 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Then the teacher asked or would give the modern
equivalents for ancient forms or obsolete words. It
was often surprising to see what a slight paraphrase
was needed to render the story intelligible. In the
history class Sophia would read a paragraph, and
then give an " exegesis," closing the book and relat-
ing it in her own words. Joanna then read the same
passage and gave her version. Eustathia read an-
other paragraph with more exegesis. When it came
to grammar Anna rattled off the verbs, and Domna
declined the nouns, and Angelike explained the
accents.
With what alacrity the scholars took their books
when Miss Vlachou said, *' Gerostathes" ! This little
volume, written by Leon Melas, has become a modern
classic in Greek schools. " Gerostathes " is the sup-
posed name of a grand old man who is mentor to
all the boys in the village in which he lives. They
love to gather round him and listen to stories about
the old times and talks about how to get on in life.
Without being priggish or prosaic, he weaves excel-
lent counsel from his experience, and the biographies
of Greek leaders and heroes and philosophers are
drawn upon for pleasing illustrations. Benjamin
Franklin is introduced as an American philosopher
of practical wisdom. The virtues of order, courtesy,
bodily exercise, reverence, temperance, self-control are
skilfully used to color and tone the narrative. It is
a kind of Greek " Tel^maque," with something of the
modernness of '' Francinet," a popular book in French
schools. I have asked a good many adult Greeks if
they had read " Gerostathes," and never found one
who did not recur to it with pleasure. In general,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 237
the textbooks in Greek schools are of good qual-
ity, and modern methods are employed in teaching.
Music was skilfully taught with European notes, and
when Miss Muir wished to pay a compliment to the
American visitor the school sang *' Hail, Columbia; "
but the hymn itself compares poorly with the ode
of the Zante poet, Solomos, which, set to music by
Mantzeros, another Ionian, has become the national
hymn of Greece. It is one of the most inspiring of
national airs, ranking almost with the Marseillaise.
At noon we had a romp in the school yard or a
game of jackstones after lunch, or Alexander the
Little would read or dictate to me during recess.
I was guilty of but one breach of discipline during
my school life, and that was when I pulled the long
braid of Maria Katsiropoulou, who sat in the seat in
front of me ; and this was simply to break the ice of
formality and to assure Maria and the rest of the
class of my youthful sympathy.
The industrial work of the school was excellent, and
when I recall the older girls embroidering an altar
cloth, I think of the Athenian maids who wrought the
peplos for Athene so many centuries ago.
Somehow these little children won my heart. They
were generally known as my sheep. I never went to
the blackboard but once, and that was when the girls
were downstairs at recess. I took a piece of chalk
and wrote,
'Ayairct) ra irpo^ara fJLOV koI eXiri^o) ore ra irpo^ard
fiov iirlar]^ /xk dyaTTovv,
As the girls filed in, it did not take more than the
flash of an eye to read my message and to ratify it
238 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
with joyous laughter. You may not understand
it, my reader ; it is not important that you should,
but Sophia and Maria, Joanna, Soteine, Anna, and
all the rest will understand it, as would Paul or Soc-
rates for that matter, and it is the message I would
send to my classmates to-day: *' I love my sheep and
I hope that my sheep love me."
IV
MY FRIEZE OF GOATS
I AM the owner of seven goats. I own them just
as I own the Parthenon, the Areopagus, Lycabettus,
or Pentelicus. They are mine because I have appro-
priated them, not their milk, their hair or their
skins, but the whole goat, horns, beard, hoof and all.
I do not mean gastronomically, but optically. Cows
in Athens are rare, but goats and donkeys are nu-
merous. I will not say that the goat's milk flows like
water, for that would be to cast doubts upon the
honesty of the milkman; but it flows in sufficient
quantity to return a good revenue of coppers to
the herdsman. One of the commonest sights in
Athens is that of six or eight sober-looking goats-
marching through the streets, driven by a goatherd,
who carries the milk measure in his hand. He has
a regular route morning and afternoon. When he
comes to the house of a customer, he milks one of
the goats, receives the milk in his measure, and pours
it into the servant's pitcher. There are a few cow
stables ; but goat's milk is the fashion in Athens, and,
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 239
in fact, all over Greece. It is no new fashion, but,
like many other customs of this people, goes back
through centuries.
On the opposite side of the street from my room was
a small garden, with a wall about four feet high, made
of nicely fitted slabs of stone surmounted by an iron
railing. Twice a day the goats solemnly came down
the broad street, crossed to the other side and ranged
themselves along this garden wall. During the win-
ter they served as a semi-diurnal clock, and also as a
zoological thermometer. When I looked out of my
window of a morning and found the goats there, I
knew it was seven o'clock. If they hugged the wall
closely, I knew it was windy; if one of them
Wore a blanket, I knew it was cold. In milder
weather, one or two of them might venture into the
middle of the sidewalk ; but they were seldom more
than a foot or two from the wall, and most of them
stood against it as closely as if they were posing for
a Parthenon frieze. One of their peculiarities was
that they never faced all the same way. It was most
natural for them to halt with their heads in the direc-
tion toward which they were going, which was always
toward Lycabettus, but two and sometimes more of
them always turned round and faced the Acropolis.
Whether this was for artistic or archaeological rea-
sons, or whether it was because goats are often more
adversative than conjunctive, I did not discover; but
I never found more than six heads facing the same
way, and usually but three or four.
There are some advantages in driving the herd of
goats to the customers. The milk is fresh. There
is no danger of getting yesterday's draft instead of to-
240 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
day's, or of getting a skimmed chalky fluid instead
of milk with a roof of cream on it. The milkman is
not obliged to carry cans. Each goat transports her
own supply. No horse or wagon is needed. I had
a practical proof at P^tras of the advantage of the
peripatetic dairy. I was about to take the train at an
early hour. There was no time to get breakfast before
it left. On the way to the depot I discovered a goat-
herd with his flock, and asked him to drive the
goats to the train, which was standing on the track
in the open street. The herder did so, milked his
goats beside the car, and furnished some dcliciously
sweet milk, which I drank in the compartment. One
milkman in Athens is too lazy to walk with his herd.
He always rides ahead on a small donkey; seven
goats follow, and a dog brings up the rear. Occa-
sionally, a milkman may be seen with his cans
strapped over the back of a donkey, while his cows
or goats are left at home; but no such thing as
a milkman's wagon is found on the thoroughfares.
From what humble origins are great words some-
times derived ! The goat has given his name to
tragedy, the grandest form of dramatic art, while
a galaxy of stars preserves in other languages the
memory of the Greek word for milk, a word still in
common use. There is little connection between
a goat and a tragedy to-day; but, strangely enough,
my frieze of goats will always be associated with a
tragic event which startled Athens. One morning,
just as they made their usual call, and ranged them-
selves against the garden wall, a man came out on
the lower roof of the house behind it, and shot him-
self. The fact that he had held a prominent position
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 24 1
in a bank, and was the victim of this sudden impulse
in a moment of depression, did not serve to delay his
funeral. The stigma attached to suicide cannot be
removed. In fact, in the longer catechism of the
Graeco-Russian Church suicide is said to be '' the
most criminal of all murders. For if it be contrary
to nature to kill another man like unto ourselves,
much more is it contrary to nature to kill our own
selves." The funeral of a suicide is always held as
soon as possible. In this case the nj^n was buried
without a priest at four o'clock the same afternoon,
and of course in unconsecrated ground. Two of my
friends had left that morning on an excursion for
Marathon. They started after breakfast, and got
back to a seven o'clock dinner. When they left, this
man was living ; when they came back, he had been
buried three hours.
A GREEK BUGLE CALL
Buglers are common in Athens. They are con-
stantly coming and going with bands of soldiers, and
the air vibrates with martial tones. Usually they ex-
cite no special attention, but one evening a bugle call
brought me instantly from my chair to my feet. I
rushed and opened the window to make sure that
I was not deceived. A squad of soldiers was passing
through the street after dark, and the buglers sud-
denly struck up the United States Army " Retreat."
It is not, as the uninitiated might suppose, a call to
fall back in an engagement, but is the daily announce-
16
242 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ment of the sunset hour, when the work of the day is
over and the tents are looped down for the night.
How startling it was to hear this bugle call in Athens,
and what memories it awakened ! It carried me back
to the Yellowstone, back to the Big Horn and the
Black Hills with Custer, to many an hour in that far
Northwest when the sun slowly set behind the hills,
and we lay down, soon after, to get the boon of sleep.
I have heard it, too, many summers on the fields of
Framingham with the Massachusetts Fifth. It is
a beautiful call. It has been graved on my brain
through a long series of associations, both glad and
tragic. I lost no time in finding a cavalry officer,
and sang the call to him. He informed me that it
was the Greek cavalry " Retreat," and had probably
come from the Bavarian soldiers when Otho was king
of Greece. Another officer said the same call is
used in the French service. The tune thus appears
to be of foreign origin, and as international as the
tune "America," which is used in Germany, Great
Britain, and the United States.
VI
A THEBAN TERRA-COTTA
I SECURED one day, much to my satisfaction, a little
Theban terra-cotta, in all probability a few centuries
older than the Christian religion. A boy is carrying
a rooster. The boy is very small, and the rooster is
very large. This disproportion in size furnishes the
artist with an opportunity to show how much humor
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 243
may be put into sober clay. The boy has flung both
arms round the bird, whose head is affectionately
tucked in the boy's neck. The cock exhibits no sign
of distress or discomfort. But the load is so large
that the boy staggers under it; and a Greek might
ask, " Why does not theT6oster spread his wings and
carry the boy, as the eagle of Zeus bore off Gany-
mede?" It is just such*a little figure as makes one
say, " How funny ! how cunning ! " The affection of
the boy for his bird is undoubted ; and, if you stop
there, it is all right. But one is impelled to ask
other questions, such as, " Where had this boy been
with the cock, and why is he carrying him home in
such sturdy triumph? " And then the archaeologist,
who never likes to break a material image, but who
is iconoclastic enough in breaking many of the mental
images we form concerning them, tells us that the
chances are two to one that the bird is a game bird,
and that the boy is just returning from a cock-fight.
I am sorry to say that the boy looks as if he might
be that sort of boy, and the rooster looks as if he
might be that sort of bird.
VII
A TREASURY OF BONES
On the day consecrated to Saint Theodore all
Athens goes to the modern cemetery. It is a me-
morial day for the dead. Wreaths and crosses
and other floral offerings are taken to the graves.
After a public service private devotions are held at
244 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
many tombs. As I wandered about the cemetery
I noticed a sort of round house filled with boxes and
bags. The boxes were closed and I had no clew to
their contents ; but a few bones protruded from the
bags. A priest who stood near asked if I wished to
find the bones of any of n!y friends. I assured him
I did not. On questio#p(^im I found that after
three years the dead are oSWterred, and their bones
put in boxes or bags, properly tagged or numbered.
On this memorial day it is customary to ask for the
bones of departed friends or relatives, and to hold
services over them. If the bones are found to be
perfectly white when disinterred, it is a proof of
saintliness. This depositary of bones is called a
KOKKaXoOrjKT), In some places the bones are heaped
together promiscuously, and medical students have no
difficulty in getting enough for a skeleton. Georgios
tells me that from Easter to Pentecost the soul is free
from punishment, and goes where it pleases, but after
that time must return to its usual abode.
VIII
AN ATHENIAN TETRADRACHMA
I HAVE a silver coin on my watch guard. The bright
face it bears is as unperturbed as it has been for two
thousand five hundred years. Think of a face pass-
ing through so many political contests of immense
importance, and yet maintaining its ineffable com-
posure ! But it is the image of a goddess, and one I
have long been accustomed to worship in a Christian
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 245
way the goddess Athene. It stands out in bold
relief on the thick, rude, not quite round piece of
silver on which it is stamped. It is undeniably pleas-
ant. A face on a coin ought to be more of a ben-
ediction than a curse. Athene could look terribly
stern sometimes, wheri^fT^iiinc^n her enemies ; and
at such times the Ij^^jiha^or her enemies was to
get out of her way.^^Hrwhen she engaged in the
arts of peace and industry, as she wisely did, her face
could wear as benign an expression as benignity
itself. Her helmet on this coin is simple, bearing a
few leaves, beneath which may be seen the folds of
her hair ; and she is naughty enough here, as in a sculp-
ture already noted, to wear earrings. If I were to
make out a passport for this face, I should phrase it
in the ambiguous diplomacy of those official descrip-
tions which suit a thousand persons as well as one,
** Forehead medium, eyes metallic, nose prominent,
mouth regular, chin small, face oval." On the reverse
beneath the rim is the owl ; in the left-hand corner
are three olive leaves, the emblem of Athene ; and
on the right hand the three letters ** A E."
But this face needs no passport from the United
States, or from any other government. It will pass
for its weight in silver, in the market, as it would have
passed twenty-five centuries ago ; but to the antiquary
it is more nearly worth its weight in gold. Its weight
is two hundred and sixty grains, which shows it to be
a tetradrachma. It is interesting to note that, before
the time of Alexander, all Greek coins bore sacred
subjects only. Mythology was thus carried into the
mart. The tradesman was distinctly reminded of
his religion when he received or gave out coin. But
246 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
there is no evidence that the gods were expected to
furnish miraculously to coins a value which they did
not possess in themselves. The good-natured face
of Athene coyld not keep a coin at par if it were
not of full weigh^ There was no fiat about it. If
the Athenians had rai^j^^fc^e, they undoubtedly
had faith in Solon, \vR^^^^Be superintendent of
the mint, as well as the^^^miey-general. I have
wondered if this tetradrachma were coined while he
was living, and if it ever passed through his hands ;
whether Socrates ever handled it in the Agora, or
whether Pericles used it to help pay the cost of the
Parthenon. I have wondered if Paul, after giving his
famous address on the Areopagus, used this heathen
coin in part payment of his expenses, or whether it
went with him on any of his missionary journeys.
The Attic coins were good the world over, and they
travelled widely. It was in Athens that I came into
possession of this piece, which one of the most cel-
ebrated experts in numismatics in the world dates at
500 or 550 B. C. I have wondered how many times it
has bought the worth of its own weight and value,
about seventy-two cents ; though the purchasing power
of a four-drachma piece was relatively much greater.
Athene has gone out of the Grecian Pantheon. The
owl is not so sacred as it used to be ; but the olive
still grows in the soil of Greece, and this piece of
silver, if it were melted down, would pass for the
worth of its weight and purity, as it may have passed
a thousand times before. The bright face of Athene,
the wise owl, and the fruitful olive upon it are symbols
of an ancient faith, which was reverenced in the mart
as in the temple.
UNiVERS^TY
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 247
.^
IX
SOME GREEK VASl
One of them is a ^^^^^BT a double handle. It
would hold just about^BB^h oatmeal for my morn-
ing breakfast portion ; but I have never yet desecrated
it to any base utility. It is black, the only color being
round the base. A little pitcher with a scalloped
rim combines portliness with grace, a thing not easy
to accomplish. It is black, Attic in form, but without
decoration. Then there are two little pitchers from
Tanagra, the large one about four inches high, the
smaller one not more than three. It is doubtful if
the smaller one was ever used for what it could hold,
or the large one either, for that matter. They may
have been used as toys or ornaments, but were de-
voted to the dead more likely than to the living. The
features are sharply and distinctly cut. It is the face
of a woman. The nose is very long, and the counte-
nance has a decidedly Egyptian cast. I suppose it
was not a portrait of an individual, but of a type, a
composite picture, so to speak, by the artist's instinct
made radical and typical.
I should like to know the history of this little vase,
what eyes looked upon it, who tenderly handled it,
or to whom it was dedicated among the grave offerings.
For nobody whom we ever heard of; for somebody,
it may be, who lived the common round of life, whose
heart was warm and whose hand willing, and who
smiled and danced and helped to make life as joyous
248 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
as it seemed to be away back in that Greek town.
Tanagra had its tragedies. It was the scene of a
bloody battle between the Spartans and the Athenians,
457 B.C., in which the town must have suffered; but
the memorials \v4i4ch thesepeople have left have not
been of sadness an^^or^^^fctof the joy and grace
and poetry of life. No^WT??!^ of statuettes in the
world is more charming l^hfwrthe Tanagra figurines
in the museum at Athens. Though Greece has been
robbed of a great many of her treasures, and a great
deal of Tanagra art has gone abroad, she has pre-
served these; and nowhere have such charming,
graceful representations of human life been put into
clay. If these people did not think life worth living,
who did?
X
THE GREEK CALENDAR
Writing from Athens, I found myself, like a
pendulum, swinging between the old calendar and
the new. The Greek calendar is twelve days behind
the reckoning of Europe. Thus, when it is the first
of the month in Greece, it is the thirteenth of the
month in Europe and America. It is not easy to
become accustomed to this difference. The Greeks
frequently date their letters in both calendars ; but I
find it hard enough to remember one date and one
calendar. It is quite flattering to find, on arriving in
Greece, that you are twelve days younger than you
had thought. It disposes one to adopt the Greek
calendar. It may be of decided advantage in taking
out a life insurance policy.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 249
There is some practical benefit in keeping up an
active connection with both calendars. The duplica-
tion of a holiday is occasionally a luxury. The resi-
dent of Athens can keep the same feasts twice over.
Thus, one Sunday was observed by the Europeans
here as Christmas Day, anc^ the. English Church was
crowded. But, accor^ pg^ ^e Greek calendar, the
25th of December wourafPot arrive until Europe had
counted the 6th of January. There is thus an op-
portunity in Athens to attend two Christmas din-
ners; and the second need not be eaten until the
first has had twelve days to digest, a point of great
importance when English plum-pudding and mince-
pie are on the first bill of fare. There is the same
opportunity of duplicating New Year's Day, and
every other feast which is registered in both calen-
dars. But it is a question of grave doubt with me
whether a man ought to be privileged under this
arrangement to keep his own birthday twice in the
same month unless he has been born again.
XI
GREEK PHILANTHROPY
Philanthropy is not only a Greek word, but is
finding practical exposition in Greek life. An excel-
lent institution is the Parnassus Club, which has now
been in existence for thirty years. It is an important
social, educational, and philanthropic society, whose
influence is not only felt in Athens but in other cities
of Greece. Its fine building in Athens, costing one
hundred and eighty-five thousand drachmas, is fitted
250 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
up with club-rooms, reading-room, and library for
members, with a large hall for lectures and concerts,
and on the lower floors class-rooms for the poor boys
who are educated by the Society. Night schools are
maintained for newsboys and bootblacks, and others
who work during the day. Over twelve hundred
boys are thus provide(J^T or )^e| rly. Courses of lec-
tures of popular interest zj^held. The club with
its wide membership is a social as well as an educa-
tive influence.
Then there are hospitals for the insane, for the
incurable, and for general invalids. A society of
Friends of the Poor retains ten doctors, who visit
the poor when sick. The Friends of the People
engage in the work of popular instruction. The Asy-
lum of St. Catharine shelters orphan girls. Another
society, organized by Madame Parren, furnishes in-
struction and help to working-girls. Under the
presidency of Mademoiselle Kehaya a prisoner's aid
association conducts schools in the prison near Athens,
and distributes literature. This and other societies
are under the patronage of the queen, who is active in
all benevolent work. The recent war with Turkey laid
an immense task on the women of Athens, which they
fulfilled with remarkable energy and devotion. They
forwarded medical supplies to the field, established a
hospital with trained nurses for the wounded, shel-
tered the refugees, and are now seeking to educate
the children made orphans through the war. There
are various other educational and philanthropic move-
ments. I do not undertake to catalogue them here,
but simply to show that the Greeks are fulfilling the
second commandment as well as the first.
ATTIC WANDERINGS
Who would make a pilgrimage to the shrines of
Greece without traversing the Sacred Way to Eleusis?
One may go by rail to this seat of the ancient mys-
teries, a method prosaic to us, but which would
seem sufficiently mysterious to the uninitiated. He
may sail, as I did once, from Salamis into the glassy
bay which seemed to be under the spell of a holy
calm. But better still is it to go from Athens by the
Sacred Way which so many pilgrim feet once trod in
the great processions to Eleusis. This road was in
ancient days a street of tombs, most of which have
crumbled into oblivion, like the memory of those to
whom they were dedicated.
Historically and geographically, the Convent of
Daphne, built in Prankish times on the site of an
ancient temple of Apollo, is a half-way house beau-
tifully situated. The double sanctity of a Christian
church on a heathen foundation provoked Mr. Edward
A. Freeman to a little pious swearing : ** Here, as on
the Athenian Acropolis, we may curse the name of
Elgin, and bewail the columns carried off from their
own place to lose beauty, value and interest in an
English museum." The excavations of the Greek
Archaeological Society have uncovered the site of the
great temple where the Eleusinian mysteries were
celebrated. The close student may follow the lines
of this structure beneath later Greek and Roman res-
252 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
torations. One may trace too the encircling wall of
the sacred precinct and the plan of the propylaea,
and may find here several epochs of Greek architec-
ture from the earliest period to Roman times. The
lover of details will note some of the exquisite cap-
itals, and that the Doric columns have flat edges
between the channellings, wliich, if less incisive, are
much more practical than the sharp edges, easily
nicked, at Athens.
But deeper questions absorb us. We are in one
of the most sacred places in Greece. The ruins
of this temple speak in hushed tones of an inner
sanctuary of the Greek religion. The veil of mystery
still hangs over the portals, and no one has as yet pen-
etrated into the dim interior of this secrecy. It does
not follow that esoteric rites and reputed mysteries
are more deeply religious than those which are less
exclusive ; but here it would seem that a more per-
sonal dedication of the initiated led to deeper spir-
itual experience. The greatest contribution which
Greece made to religion, however, was not in the
establishment of an exclusive n.ystic cult, not in the
separation of the Church from the world, but in
the diffusion of religion through every department
of life ; and whatever Eleusis may have done for the
development of the belief in a future life, it has exer-
cised no such influence on the world as the lofty, un-
concealed argument of Plato based upon the nature
of the human soul. But it is well that Eleusis should
remind us that the Greek religion did not lie wholly
on the surface, and that we have not yet sounded its
depths. Crinagoras of Mitylene, a court poet at
Rome in the age of Augustus, could write :
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 253
Though thy Hfe be fixed in one place, and thou neither
sailest the sea nor treadest the paths of the dry land, go at
least to Eleusis, that thou mayest see those great nights,
sacred to Demeter, through which thou shalt keep thy soul
serene among the living and go to join the great host with a
lighter heart.
The visitor is well repaid by the charming view
across the bay to Salamis. The new town of Eleusis
has been moved down from the hill to make way for
the excavations. The houses are small, with walled
gardens, but the Greeks live mostly out of doors,
and the cooking is done in huge stone ovens in the
garden. Under a grapevine we saw a woman run-
ning a sewing machine, the scene itself a little patch
of new life set into the old garment.
The mountains around Athens always present their
challenge to a walker. I was not satisfied till I had
scaled Hymettus and got the commanding view of the
sea from the top. It is a rough climb, and the ridge
is not so near as it seems to be in the clear air of
Attica. The unobstructed view gives a good idea
of the topography of Athens, lying on the plain be-
tween Lycabettus and the Acropolis. Far in the
distance rise the snow-capped peaks of Parnes. I
found upon Hymettus no bees and no honey, though
I am told they are there, but the old ruined monas-
tery of Kaesariani had a picturesque interest, and
near it was a shepherd's hut in which mother and
daughter were spinning wool on a bobbin, holding
one end on the ground and whirling it rapidly. The
scene was as archaic as the woman at Eleusis with
her sewing machine was modern.
254 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
To know the mountain which looks on Marathon,
and to see Marathon looking on the sea, one must
climb Pentelicus. It is an easy ascent. The old and
the new meet together in the marble quarries on the
mountainside. From these same quarries were hewn
the snowy blocks, the curved and channelled drums
which formed the exquisite temples on the Acropolis.
Though the quarries have been worked for centuries,
the scar is small in the mountain side. The mon-
astery, as I have before said, is perhaps the richest in
Greece. The lady who was with me, being an or-
dained minister of the Unitarian Church, was an object
of much curiosity to the monks, who were surprised
enough to learn that a woman priest in America
might marry after her ordination.
The deep grotto not far from the old quarries was
doubtless an older shrine than the convent. From
the summit in the soft languid air and in a brilliant
sun one may look on Marathon and the sea together.
To the east lies the island of Euboea, and sleeping
in the blue calm are Andros and Tenos ; to the south
the islands of Makronisi and Keos nestle under Attic
shores; to the southwest is Athens and the Attic
plain. Just below lies the bay of Marathon, and
near it is the memorial mound to the heroic dead,
which for centuries has been a shrine of Greek patri-
otism. It was here that Greece stayed the might
of Persia ; it was here that a battle was fought for
Greek independence in 1824; and the Greeks counted
it a third national victory when one of their country-
men in the race from Marathon to Athens in 1896
beat the athletes of the world and raised the national
flag to the top of the staff.
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 255
It is an easy walk from Athens to Colonus, the
home of Sophocles, and to the Academy of Plato.
You will not find the twelve olives nor the
" Deep-flushed ivy and the dear.
Divine, impenetrable shade,"
but somehow the place has a different atmosphere
for you, because you know that the poet and the
philosopher have been there.
Piraeus to most travellers is associated with clam-
orous boatmen, inquisitive custom-house officers
and exacting coachmen. It is still the seaport of
Athens, but dislikes to be regarded simply as an
appendage to that city, and the rivalry occasionally
breaks out in local fetes. Piraeus has its own car-
nival and tries to outdo that of Athens. For many
centuries this old harbor has been a scene of bustling
activity, and the bustle still goes on. The archaeol-
ogist finds diversion in the remains of the long wall
built by Themistocles and Conon, and in the theatre
excavated by the Greek Archaeological Society. In-
teresting too are the old shiphouses or dry docks
with ways built down to the water.
My visit to Oropus was made by water, on an
** Island trip " with Dr. Dorpfeld. We landed on a
long, beautiful beach and set out for the oracle of
Amphiaraus, one of " The Seven against Thebes,"
whom Pausanias says the people of Oropus first hon-
ored as a god. After a walk of about three-quarters
of an hour up a beautiful slope and across fertile
fields, we struck the course of a brook shaded by
trees, and along its banks made our way to the holy
256 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ground. Again I was struck with the sensitiveness
of the early Greeks to scenes of natural beauty. It
was certainly by no accident that sites made charm-
ing by commanding views, flowery fields, singing
brooks, and shady groves should be chosen for the
sacred ground on which their temples were reared.
This love of nature may be less reflected in early
Greek literature than it is in modern times, but one
who has seen the places where their temples stood
cannot doubt that it existed.
Much of the southern part of Attica is devoid
of trees; but at Oropus the tree-lover may delight
in wooded hills of fir and olive, among which the
nightingales sing as beautifully as they sang cen-
turies ago. How fresh the grass, how balmy the
spring air !
Pausanias, who, though occasionally sceptical, faith-
fully retailed the popular superstitions, tells us that,
when Amphiaraus fled from Thebes, the earth opened
and swallowed him up ; and he mentions a number
of men who had honors paid to them as gods.
Amphiaraus had a temple here, a statue in white
stone, and an altar. There was a fountain near the
temple, and when any disease had been cured by
means of the oracle, it was customary to throw into
the water gold or silver coin. The beautiful brook,
and a clear spring which flowed into it, easily sug-
gest the site of the old fountain. The temple, exca-
vated by the Greek Archaeological Society, was a
small building; there are traces of the columns, and
in the middle we can see where the cult-statue stood.
Innumerable statues once crowded the holy precincts,
and rows of seats from which they could be seen;
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 257
but nothing but the bases of these statues remain.
A. long colonnade furnished a sheltered walk for
those who came to this sanitarium, and there are
traces of rooms which Dr. Dorpfeld regards as bath-
rooms one for women and one for men men-
tioned in an inscription. Back of this colonnade
are the remains of a charming little Greek theatre.
Only a few seats of the auditorium are preserved ;
but the columns which made up the proscenium are
standing, except their capitals. The architrave for
the columns has been found, so that the height of
the structure can well be determined. An inscrip-
tion contains the word proskene. Behind these col-
umns can be seen the slots to receive the bolts or
bars by which pictures were fastened in between
them, except in the middle of the row, where the
space was used as a doorway for the actors. This
building is of much importance in supporting Dorp-
feld's theory of theatre construction, involving the
view that the actors played in the orchestra and not
on an elevated stage.
My approach to Rhamnus was also from the sea.
The old city wall may be followed up the hill, and
passing through an ancient gateway one sees the
terrace walls within. The lower circle of seats of a
primitive theatre are still preserved, and bear the
names of the ancient holders. Sections of old walls
made of small stones without mortar seem to be the
remains of dwelling-houses. But the most interest-
ing remains at Rhamnus are the ruins of its two
temples. They stand side by side on a great terrace,
and we can trace the wall which bounded the sacred
17
258 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
precinct. Both are temples of Nemesis, one the
old, the other the new. We see here, as on the
Acropolis at Athens and in the Peloponnesus, that
the new temple was built by the side of the old one,
which perhaps goes back to the sixth century before
Christ. At Athens we have only the ground plan of
the old structure left ; but here the walls stand four
feet high, higher, indeed, than the ruins of the
newer and larger temple which was placed beside it.
The old temple was built of limestone and had but
two steps, as in the old temple of Athene at Athens.
The noble statue of Themis, which is one of the most
admired figures in the museum at Athens, was found
here. The goddess standing erect is the imperson-
ation of justice, dignity and power. There is no trace
of " the iEginetan smile," with which so many of the
early figures were enlivened. This work belongs to
a later period of art, Mr. Kabbadias assigning it to
the third century before Christy the beginning of the
Alexandrian epoch. We are not left, as in so many
cases, to conjecture the name of the goddess and of
the artist who wrought it. The base was found with
the statue itself, and bears the name of Themis, to
whom it was dedicated, and of Chaerestratos, who
made it. In the old times an artist's fame was made
with a chisel; to-day it is remade with a spade.
Eight years ago we knew nothing about Chaere-
stratos ; to-day the spade has unearthed a work from
his hand whose strength, elegance and beauty place
him indisputably among the great artists of the past.
Next to seeing the statue is the pleasure of seeing
the place where it stood in the old temple.
The new temple was built of white marble whiter
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 259
than Pentelic from the very hills on which it was
reared, so that it must have seemed, as does the
temple of Bassae in the Peloponnesus, to grow right
out of the landscape. It is easy to see that it was
never completed. Only the fluting of the upper and
lower drums of the columns had been cut in, the rest
being left, as was customary, to be worked off from
these guide-marks when the columns were set up.
The same incomplete tooling is seen on the surface of
the steps.
The old temple and the new are set so close to
each other that they are only a few inches apart at
one end about eighteen inches, at the other but five
or six. The visitor with a straight eye asks why they
were not built perfectly parallel, when it would have
been so easy to do it. The same divergence in the
foundation lines is seen in other cases, where new
temples were erected close beside those of much ear-
lier date. The explanation of Penrose is that this
difference in orientation comes from the difference in
the Greek calendar. Greek temples, as already shown,
were so built that the rising sun would shine directly
into the front door of the temple on the day of the
year devoted to the god. If the day were changed,
the position of the sun would be changed also. But,
assuming that the same day of the year was nom-
inally retained as the festal day, in the lapse of two
or three centuries the uncorrected Greek calendar
would bring about sufficient variation between real and
apparent time so that the sun would not rise on that
day in precisely the same place on the apparent hori-
zon that it did when the first building was erected.
The new building was adjusted, therefore, according
260 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
to the new position of the sun, and stood askew with
reference to the old. One would suppose that the
practice of orientating their buildings would have re-
vealed to the Greeks the imperfection of the calendar,
but it may not have been easy to correct it. To
change the direction of the building was perhaps
easier than to change the day of observance.
The delightful view from Rhamnus across the chan-
nel to the hills and mountains of Euboea beyond
is inseparably connected with the memory of its
temples. A brisk breeze blew over the water, and
rendered landing and embarkation in the small boats
against the rocky shore somewhat difficult. We were
thankful that we were not out in the ^gean, tossing
among the islands. We simply crossed the channel,
and anchored all night under the shelter of Euboea.
A brilliant moon silvered the waters, and our sleep
was as sweet as if Athene herself had poured out the
gift of slumber.
There is a figure in the Iliad (II. 395) which might
apply to more than one cape or promontory of
Greece, but which, from personal experience, I have
come, with a certain qualm of gastric reproach, to
apply to Cape Sunium, the southern point of Attica.
The figure is that of a lofty, projecting cliff, which
the waves, driven here and there by the winds from
every quarter, never leave, but continually roar against
its rocky side. It is a fine description and pleasant
to read, when one is sitting in his study and there are
no earthquakes in the basement. But to sail round
Cape Sunium generally takes the poetry all out of it
for me, and leaves me a gastric wreck, with the un-
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 261
digested memory of my last dinner. I have sailed
round Sunium seven times, and five times out of seven
have been treated in this way. I do not wonder, there-
fore, that a temple was early built upon this spot to
propitiate Poseidon. The sea is a beautiful picture ;
it is a rhythmic poem. I am fond of the poem, but
not of the swelling rhythm. It is strange that such
majestic waves can produce such contemptible feel-
ings ; strange that aesthetics and physiology should
be in such sad contradiction. " Who of his own ac-
cord," says Hermes, after he has been on a divine
mission to the island of Calypso, " would cross such
interminable stretches of salt sea } " And Laodamas
says to Odysseus, " Nothing, I believe, is worse than
sea life for taking the strength out of a man, how-
ever strong be he."
Athene afterwards obtained possession of this prom-
ontory, and the temple whose columns give to it the
modern name of Cape Colonna was erected for her
worship. Once as I rounded it the sea was calm,
the sky clear, the sun brilliant. The Attic peninsula
could not have had a nobler termination than this
lofty headland washed by the sea and crowned by a
majestic temple. Eleven columns only are standing,
but they are heroic in dignity and constancy, as if they
meant to hold the headland to the last. No other
temple or shrine. Christian or pagan, disputes pos-
session of this site.
If the view of Sunium from the sea is imposing, it
is well worth while to go there by land, to see the
ruins of the temple and get the view of the sea from
the cliff. The walls which once fortified this extreme
headland have fallen into ruins, and the goats are the
262 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
only guardians. After weathering the gales of cen-
turies these massive columns are still intensely white.
What a glorious site for a shrine ! To the seaman
who sailed by it was an altar set upon a rock, while
the islands and the sea from whencesoever it was visi-
ble were all included in its sacred precincts, were all
a part of the holy temple. One of the most beau-
tiful views I had in Greece was the vista through
these stately columns, with the sea beyond, the nearer
islands set in lapis lazuli and the farther isles veiled
in mist. The shrine and the isles were all of the
same poem.
Looking out on the water and remembering how
much of Greece is island and peninsula, it is not sur-
prising that so much of the sea washed the pages of
the old epic. A single salty word, a happy epithet,
a rhythmic line often brought it into the picture with
more effect than a page of watery description. This
fs all that Homer tries to do ; but he does it in a variety
of ways, and so effectively that one who plunges into
the Odyssey is soon conscious of taking a sea-bath.
Sometimes he thinks of its vast extent, and calls it
the " boundless sea;" sometimes he sees it as a path-
way of fleets, and calls it the " watery way." Then
he is touched by its varying hues or the clouds that
play on its surface. It is the " cloudstreaked," the
" murky," the " misty sea." Or he sees its gray foam,
and calls it the ''hoary sea." In storm or night,
it is the " black sea." There is another epithet of
Homer which first became real to me on the beach
of our own Newport ; it is the " wine-dark sea." He
was not color blind ; the waves as they broke on the
shore on that stormy day were claret till they burst in
THE SHRINES OF ATTICA 263
foam. Two other terms show the fisherman's heart
in the ancient poet. It is the " barren," the " unhar-
vested sea;" and we know that one had toiled all the
night and had caught nothing. But when he has come
in with a draught so large that the net would scarce
hold it, we read fisherman's luck in the " teeming,"
" fishy sea."
Laurium, the seat of one of the oldest and most
valuable mining districts of Greece, is but a short dis-
tance from Sunium. Externally, this part of the
Attic peninsula is barren enough; but it is rich be-
neath the surface. Five hundred years before Christ
these mines were profitably worked for their silver,
as to-day they are profitably worked for their lead.
One who views near Athens the scarred sides of Mount
Pentelicus may see little connection between these
old mines and the marble quarry ; but some of the
wealth which the slaves drew from the mines was
coined into the marble grandeur of Propylaea and
Parthenon, and the statues which bloomed from the
art of Phidias and Praxiteles. Deep shafts and
radiating galleries are the silent and hollow monu-
ments of this early industry; but not far away great
furnaces are blazing, and men are toiling as they toiled
of yore. But slavery has gone, and we have one re-
minder, at least, of the superiority of modern civil-
ization to that of the ancient world.
It was the remains of the old theatre that drew us
to Thoricus. Simple and primitive in form, only a
small part was visible until it was excavated by the
American School. The orchestra has not been com-
pletely uncovered ; but it is seen to be elliptical in
264 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
form. The auditorium seats were built at different
times. It is not easy to determine with exactness the
date of this theatre ; but it is assigned by Dr. Dorp-
feld to the fifth century before Christ. A small
temple stood near the theatre ; in fact, the orchestra
lay just before it. The theatre at Thoricus pales into
insignificance compared with the beauty of Epidaurus,
but Hke the latter it commanded a charming and ex-
tensive view. The play might be stupid; but, sit-
ting in the open air, in this delightful climate, with
the blue sea before them, the spectators could enjoy
scenery more real and more beautiful than the can-
vas fictions which in modern times often impose so
great a strain upon the imagination.
IV
THE PELOPONNESUS
FROM ATHENS TO MEGALOPOLIS
There are two ways of making excursions in
Greece. One is to take your purse and your stafif
and go forth as a solitary pilgrim. You need then a
traveller's equipment of modern Greek if you are to
step out of the beaten track. It is an interesting way
of penetrating the country and studying the life and
customs of the people. The other method is that of
a " reconnaissance in force." I do not mean a Cook
or Gaze excursion, a sort of travelling mob, but an
organized band of Hellenists, each of whom is armed
with special knowledge or animated by special inter-
est, You may then have the advantage of agreeable
companionship, of combined experience, knowledge
and observation.
Our group of seven, self-styled "the heptarchy,'*
who had captured the Ionian Islands and descended
upon Athens, had long since gone or six of them
to Germany. It was fortunate that after this de-
sertion I could avail myself of the kind invitation
of Dr. Dorpfeld to join his band of archaeological
pilgrims in a trip through the Peloponnesus.
Using the democratic Aristotelian term by which the
modern Greeks describe a " person " or " individual,"
I may say that this body was made up of twenty-
seven " atoms," and that they had come from Prussia,
Austria, Bavaria, the Rhine Provinces, Italy, Dal-
matia, Russia, Poland, Servia, Denmark, Massachu-
268 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
setts, Vermont, Georgia, and Ohio. The central
magnet which, added to the charms of Greece, drew
these twenty-seven atoms from two continents, was the
personaHty of Dr. Dorpfeld. The babel of tongues
found a peaceful resolution in the German language,
especially when he spoke it. Nearly all the members
of the party were classical professors, teachers, stu-
dents, or curators of museums, but diplomacy was
represented by the Servian minister. As a part of
the journey was to be made by rail and by carriage,
a few ladies accompanied us as far as Mycenae. The
itinerary of the expedition covered thirteen days,
from March 25 to April 6, and included all the most
important points between Athens and Olympia.
The history of Greece is clearer when you have
studied its geography and seen how natural bound-
aries of mountain or water perpetuated tribal divi-
sions and furnished obstacles to political unity. The
narrow isthmus which joins Attica and the Pelopon-
nesus was a barrier or a highway according to the
mood in which the ancients happened to look at it.
It was a highway for the landsman and a barrier for
the sailor. It permitted an easy passage of hostile
troops, but as it was only three and a half to four
miles wide it was not difficult to throw across it the
Isthmian wall, which furnished a military barrier
where nature had failed to build one. On the other
hand, this narrow strip of land was a provoking
barrier between the Corinthian and the Saronic gulfs ;
and if this ligament binding the peninsulas were cut,
the divided waters would flow together and the Pelo-
ponnesus become an island. So the Greeks tried first
to put up a wall of separation between the rival lands.
THE PELOPONNESUS 269
and then to cut a canal to join the friendly waters.
One of these projects was a measure of war, the other
a measure of peace and commerce. The political
union of Greece made the wall unnecessary; the
developrnent of its commerce and that of the world
made the canal more desirable than ever.
As we crossed the Isthmus the train stopped first
to let us see the remains of the old wall, and after-
wards that we might see the new canal, then within
a few weeks of completion. The wall, dating from
remote times and subject to many restorations, here
and there shows its sullen teeth. The canal from
the fine bridge which the railroad has thrown across
may be seen up and down its whole length, and fur-
nishes an interesting illustration of how the past and
the present are joined in Greece. More than seven-
teen centuries ago, when Pausanias crossed this isth-
mus, he saw the marks of the first attempt to cut a
canal. ''Whoever attempted" he said, "to make
the Peloponnesus an island died before the completion
of a canal across the isthmus. The place where they
began to dig is clearly seen, but they did not make
much progress on account of the rock, and the
Peloponnesus remains what it was by nature, a
peninsula."
Periander, the tyrant of Corinth, who lived about
six hundred years before Christ, is credited with first
projecting a canal across the isthmus. In Roman
times the attempt was made by the Emperor Nero,
but abandoned probably on account of more warlike
undertakings. Herodes Atticus continued the work
which Nero began. The canal thus made was one
hundred and fifty feet in width, about one hundred
2/0 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
and twenty in depth, and three thousand feet long.
For more than seventeen hundred years after the
death of Herodes Atticus nothing more was done
to fulfil the dream of the Corinthian tyrant. Then
Greek and European capitalists organized to make it
real. When the engineers made a new survey they
found no better place on the isthmus for the canal
than that chosen by Nero's engineers. It saved much
labor to clear out and utilize the old cut. Pausanias
was wrong about the hardness of the rock ; it was
soft and gave no trouble. It was the sand at both
ends letting in water that made work. Two thousand
men and three immense excavators cut and moved
11,500,000 cubic metres of earth and rock. The
canal is nearly four miles long. About three months
after our visit the water was let in, and commercially,
at least, the Peloponnesus was turned into an island.
But what if the heirs of Nero and Nero's engineers
should send in a bill for making the first cut and
claim a share in the dividends?
The Greek canal-cutters are not the only modern
engineers who have availed themselves of the labors
of ancient builders. Why should any one cut a stone
from a quarry when he can find one already cut in
some old ruin? It is partly owing to this labor-
saving philosophy that the only foundation stones
left of the hoary old temple at Corinth are those
which stand under its seven Doric columns. These
tall monoliths could not be overturned except by
machines. The stones beneath them thus furnish
some hint of the plan of this ancient building, the sole
monument of the glory of the ancient city, and next to
the temple of Hera at Olympia, the oldest example
THE PELOPONNESUS 2/1
of the Doric style in Greece. We have no means of
telhng for how many centuries the sturdy cohimns
have stood on the plain. They were cut in one
piece from the limestone rocks not far away and
covered with a yellowish stucco. Even this covering
gives us a hint of restoration ; the thick Roman
stucco is easily distinguished from the thin layer used
by the Greeks.
The traveller should go to Corinth with a copy of
Pausanias in one pocket and the New Testament in
the other. In these literary memorials he will find
more to remind him of the brilliant, luxurious city
than anything he sees on the plains. The description
of Pausanias is minute, and encourages us to hope for
good results from the excavations undertaken at
Corinth by the American school.
The same friend who before my departure for
Greece had said, ** Do not spend any time at Corfu,"
had likewise said, " Do not trouble yourself to go up
Acro-Corinth." I should invert his advice and would
say, *^ Do not fail to climb Acro-Corinth. If you do,
you will miss one of the grandest views in all Greece."
Dispensing with a mule, I climbed the mountain and
succeeded in getting within the eye of my camera an
exact picture of the isthmus with the water lapping it
on each side. The Corinthian Gulf, like a great
inland lake, is spread out on one side, with the
mountains of Boeotia and Phocis rising in a wall be-
hind it, and, most imposing among them, snow-peaked
Parnassus. To the east ^gina and Salamis are sleep-
ing in the calm waters of the Saronic Gulf with their
island satellites round them ; to the south the moun-
tains of Argolis ; and to the west those of Arcadia frame
2/2 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
in the view. On days exceptionally clear, from Upper
Corinth one may see Upper Athens forty-five miles
away. The white houses of the new Corinth are set
on the plain below, amid fields of red and green and
dark olive groves. Many a fierce conflict, Greek
with Greek, Greek with Roman, Turk or Venetian,
has been fought on this citadel. As on the Acropolis
of Athens, the debris of centuries is here beneath our
feet.
Did Paul come up here? There is nothing in his
letters to show it. But that he saw the temples and
the idols, and that he had to deal with practical ques-
tions, such as eating meat offered in sacrifice to idols,
his epistles plainly show. If the apostle could find here
to-day little to recall the ancient pagan worship but
the seven columns on the plain, he would find in the
modern town but little to remind him of the church
he planted. It is not likely when he wrote these two
letters to the Corinthians that he thought they would
be known in all Christendom, or that the thirteenth
chapter of the first letter might well compare in
elevation of sentiment and beauty of diction with any-
thing in the range of literature.
Leaving Corinth we took the train to Nauplia and
spent the night. The next morning we rose at five
o'clock, and in six carriages drove from Nauplia to
Epidaurus, renowned in ancient days as the sanctuary
of ^sculapius, and containing a temple, sanitarium
and other buildings. As a centre of miracle or faith
healing, the place has a special interest. But our
curiosity had been stimulated most of all to see the
theatre, partly by its importance in modern discussion
and partly from the enthusiasm of Pausanias in regard
THE PELOPONNESUS 2^3
to it. " The Epidaurians," he said, " have a theatre
in their sacred precinct which is especially well worth
seeing. The Roman theatres excel all others in
their embellishment; and the theatre of the Arcadians
at Megalopolis is distinguished for its size, but for
beauty and proportion what architect could compete
with Polycleitus? " Pausanias was right. The theatre
at Epidaurus is a gem. Fortunately it is one of the
best preserved theatres that has yet been excavated.
It was here that the complete orchestral circle was
first found distinctly marked off by a stone border.
While room for the orchestral circle between the
auditorium and the proskenion was always left in
other theatres, the actual circle was not always de-
scribed. The earth within the circumference was left
unfloored, recalling the Greek name konistray the
sandy space, the Latin arena.
In the chapter on the Greek theatre, the reader
has already seen a reproduction of a photograph
which I took from the auditorium showing it exactly
as a spectator would see it. It is evident from this
picture that no stage was needed where the actors
(represented by a few German students) could be so
plainly seen. Measurements showed that this theatre,
small though it was compared with the one at
Megalopolis, held fifteen thousand people. Dr.
Dorpfeld's lecture was an interesting resume of the
development of the Greek theatre. He has perhaps
forgotten an unconscious but appropriate tribute he
paid to Dionysus on this occasion. One of our
attendants had left the basket of wine standing on the
lowest seat of the auditorium where the sun was pour-
ing down upon it. In the midst of his lecture the
i8
274 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
professor stopped and directed the archaeological
butler to put the wine in a cool place. Shades of
Dionysus, why did you not gratefully cast the
shadow?
From the auditorium the spectator has a fine view
of the plain, and of Mount Arachnaeon (nearly four
thousand feet high) beyond, the black lines on its side,
as the name suggests, looking like spider's webs.
Columns and broken architraves and the remains of
the foundation give some idea of the beautiful Tholos^
a circular building 107 feet in diameter, also attrib-
uted to Polycleitus. A peculiar structure is a sort of
labyrinth ; and the purpose of another large building,
approached by inclined planes, a frequent feature in
the Peloponnesus, is unknown. Would Polycleitus
have laughed or cried at the degeneracy of his coun-
trymen if he had known that a kiln had been estab-
lished in the midst of this sanctuary to make lime
from these exquisite marbles? If that is chargeable
to rustic ignorance and cupidity, we must give the
Greek Archaeological Society, which excavated this
sanctuary and theatre, the credit of a nobler embod-
iment of the modern spirit.
The next day, when we passed through the Lion
Gate at Mycenae, we entered the portals of another
age. Once more we seemed to be on Homeric ground.
At Corfu and Ithaca we had only the literary tradi-
tion; here and at Tiryns we seemed to be in the
presence of visible memorials of the remote age in
which the Homeric poems found their material. If
we sometimes envy Pausanias the opportunity he
had in the second century of seeing many Greek
temples and monuments in their pristine beauty, the
THE PELOPONNESUS 275
old traveller might envy us the opportunity we have
had at Mycenae. The few paragraphs which he de-
voted to these hoary monuments, containing about all
the world knew, contrast strongly with the volumes
which describe the results of modern excavation.
Pausanias stood above ground, but Schliemann went
beneath. He showed us the advantage of deep dig-
ging; he unbuilt better than he knew.
Curious are the conjunctions and the oppositions
of history which present themselves at Mycenae.
Here is a form of architecture entirely different from
that which we are accustomed to call Greek. There
is no presage of the age of Pericles, but a curious
suggestion of the Byzantine age which much later was
to follow it. Those great beehive tombs seem in their
ascending domes to be a prediction of St. Sophia and
St. Peter. Yet structurally they affirm unrelenting
opposition to the architecture they seem to predict.
When we examine them we find that they are not
arches, and are not built on vertical lines, but consist
of horizontal circular courses of stone, each course
projecting over that below it until they come together
and are covered by a stone at the top. The tomb
builders did not have the arch, but they were feeling
after it, and it is remarkable by what simple means
they reached the effect they sought.
But what were these walled avenues leading to the
tomb? Were they filled up with earth when they were
built or in some later age? Some of them are lined
with immense stones from twenty to twenty-five feet
in length, as if the builders exulted in feats of Cyclo-
pean force. These blocks are at least three thousand
years old, and nobody knows how much older, but the
2/6 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
marks of the workman's saw are still upon them, show-
ing how old was the use of this instrument in cutting
stone as well as wood. In opposition to the Doric
column which tapers toward the top, the columns of
the door to the tomb excavated by Mrs. Schliemann are
curiously enough much thicker at the top than at the
bottom. In the Parthenon and on the Propylaea at
Athens we have noticed reminiscences of the wooden
structure. It has been suggested that these top-heavy
columns may also be a survival of the wooden struc-
ture, recalling the stake or post sharpened and driven
into the ground.
The wall which surrounded the Acropolis at My-
cenae is largely intact. The remains of a Greek
temple prove how old was the civilization beneath
it. This Greek temple may be dated about six
hundred years before Christ, yet underneath the
temple were huts of earlier dwellers, and underneath
these was the ground plan of an ancient palace. But
we must go to Troy to see how antiquity can be piled
on antiquity. Deeply significant and interesting is
the fact pointed out by Dr. Dorpfeld that the plan
of the Greek temple was taken from that of the me-
garon or palace; the house of man thus prefigured
the House of God. We took lunch under the Lion
Gate. I was somewhat disappointed in the size of
the headless beasts. They would have been more
imposing, I have no doubt, if their leonine heads
had been left on.
We must beware in these ruins of carrying too far
relationships which may be coincident, not genetic;
but details of resemblance In structure are often
stronger proofs of historic couslnship than super-
THE PELOPONNESUS 277
ficial aspects and resemblances. The resemblance to
the Byzantine cupola is only external. Structurally
and technically there was no historic relation between
them. At Mycenae and Tiryns, however, there is one
detail of structure which shows a distinct relationship
to Solomon's Temple. We read in i Kings vi. 36 that
the inner court was built with three rows of hewn
stone and a row of cedar beams ; that is, placed lon-
gitudinally on the stone. The accuracy of this state-
ment was doubted, but at Mycenae we find walls built
in the same way, courses of wooden beams between
those of stone. Fierce fires at Mycenae consumed the
wood and reduced to lime the stone that lay near it,
and here and there pieces of charcoal in the ruins
showed the wood itself. Dr. Dorpfeld has further
remarked the general resemblance between the plan
and proportion of Solomon's Temple with the plans
of buildings at Mycenae. When we remember that
Hiram, king of Tyre, was summoned by Solomon to
build his temple, we ask ourselves whether Phoenicia
may not have furnished the bond of union in this
interesting resemblance.
I cannot even enumerate the many questions which
throng upon the visitor at Mycenae and Tiryns; for
their adequate treatment, as well as for the manifold
aspects of Mycenaean civilization, I refer the reader to
the elaborate and fascinating treatise of Dr. Manatt. -^
While the Acropolis of Mycenae has been cut off
by the action of the water from the surrounding hills
Tiryns stands up like a small rocky island in the
midst of a great plain. Dark cypresses contrast with
1 The Mycenaean Age. By Chrestos Tsountas and J. Irving Manatt,
Boston, 1897.
2/8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the long fresh green levels, and Nauplia rises behind.
In the ancient galleries built of enormous stone we
have the same architecture as in the Mycenae tombs.
As shepherds have lived in the so-called tomb of
Agamemnon, so the sheep have found shelter in
these galleries, and in passing through them have
polished the hard stones against which they brushed
till they are as smooth as glass. It was no slight
puzzle at first to know why the ancient builders had
so beautifully polished the lower courses of stone and
left those above in the rough. But as the ram of
Odysseus played a part in the cave of old Polyphe-
mus, so his fellow-creatures have played their part
in these Cyclopean galleries. The mice too, with
the zeal of modern excavators, have brought out the
earth which once lay between the horizontal layers
of stone. Beyond this the great galleries have suf-
fered little disturbance in the course of centuries.
Emerging from them we had a beautiful vista of
the plains below and the mountains beyond. As
he went from stone to stone and explained the
whole plan of the fortress, its towers and corridors,
courts, propylaea, its palaces with their halls for
men and for women, and its cistern and cellars,
which furnished material for so many Homeric pic-
tures. Dr. Dorpfeld seemed more enthusiastic than
usual, especially when he spoke of the discovery
made by Dr. Schliemann and himself of the re-
markable kyanos frieze. These beautiful decorations
showed us that Homer's description of the palace of
Alcinoiis was more fact than fancy. As you see the
marks the great doors left on the pavement when they
turned, you can imagine their Homeric creak and you
THE PELOPONNESUS 279
may hear the thunderous clatter of hoofs and wheels
resounding from the pavement as in the great Epic.
How were these buildings roofed? While there
are those who contend for an inclined roof, Dr. Dorp-
feld believes that they were flat, and covered with
earth supported by heavy timbers, which, as has been
intimated in a previous chapter, may account for the
heavy style of Doric architecture if derived from the
wooden structure. No trace of a tile has been found
at Tiryns.
Our visit to Argos was short; we had only time
for a casual view of the theatre and a rapid ascent
of the acropolis Larisa. I stepped for a few minutes
into a school in the town and heard boys recite from
Xenophon, which they did with considerable ease.
At the Heraeon, the great sanctuary of Argolis, the
students of the American Archaeological School who
had worked with great industry were exulting over
the new treasures they had found.
At Mantinea we were on another battlefield, but
it was a field of civil war, and had less interest
for me than Marathon when Greece was facing the
hosts of Persia. A few traces of the theatre are left.
The clouds nestled down on the sides of the distant
mountains and the sun shone on the snow-white peaks
so much whiter than the muffling clouds below.
We had spent the first two nights of our trip
at Nauplia, from which excursions are conveniently
made to Mycenae, the Heraeon, and Tiryns and
Argos. Two nights were spent at Tripolis, from
which we drove to Mantinea, Tegea, and back. Leav-
ing Tripolis, by carriage we had a beautiful drive over
the hills to Megalopolis, the iris blooming brilliantly
28o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
by the way. We stopped at a khan and had a lunch
of black bread and cheese. When Nicholas, my driver,
told me he did not smoke I took his photograph at
once. He could say his Lord's Prayer and believed
in baptism, but when I asked him what would be-
come of the unbaptized Turks he shook his head
and said, Aev i^evpco, " I don't know."
Our hiterest in Megalopolis was whetted by a
controversy concerning the stage in the Greek theatre.
The excavation of that great theatre is due to the
energy and skill of the British Archaeological School,
then under the charge of Mr. Ernest Gardner. The
British School had clung to the statement of Vitruvius
that a stage ten or twelve feet high and eight feet
broad was used in the Greek theatre. The excava-
tion of the orchestra at Megalopolis a few years ago
was watched with the greatest interest to see if any
stage could be found intact. In the course of their
digging the English came upon five steps on the
side of the orchestra opposite the auditorium, where
a stage, if any existed, would naturally be found.
The stone steps led up to what was apparently a
platform. The full width of the platform was not
excavated, but it was evidently at least eight feet
in breadth. Nothing was more natural than that
Director Gardner and his associates should con-
clude they had found a stage. The news was re-
ceived with the greatest interest by archaeologists all
over the world. At last it seemed as if Dr. Dorp-
feld's radical theory had been effectively refuted,
and the accuracy of the Roman architect vindicated.
When the plans of the excavations were shown to Dr.
Dorpfeld he examined them closely and said : " Gen-
THE PELOPONNESUS 28 1
tlenien, if you examine carefully this platform which
you think is a stage, you will find, I think, the marks
where columns have stood. What you think is a
stage I take to be a stylobate." When the English
resumed their work at MegalopoHs the following
year, the so-called stage was examined. Sure enough,
there were the marks of columns. They had found
not a stage, but a portico to a great building men-
tioned by Pausanias, the Thersilion. The satisfaction
of the English School in uncovering this great build-
ing partly atoned for the disappointment in not having
found a stage to support the statement of Vitruvius.
A close study of the ruins at Megalopolis suggests
that an older theatre existed, and that the Thersilion
was built about the same time. There were no seats
in either of them ; one was covered and the other
uncovered, and the orchestral circle lay between
them. Two steps led up from the orchestra to the
Thersilion, which was built on an incline. The portico
served as a skene for the actors. In later times the
theatre and the Thersilion were rebuilt. The level of
the orchestra was lowered, and three steps were put
beneath the two already existing. This is the expla-
nation of the five steps at Megalopolis which have no
relation to a stage. In still later times the theatre,
which was of enormous size, became too large for the
audience, and a proskenion was built in the orchestra
to reduce its size.
It is a double tribute to the general accuracy of
Pausanias and the penetration of Curtius that the
plan of Megalopolis made by the latter based on
Pausanias has been proved by the excavations to be
substantially correct.
FROM MEGALOPOLIS TO OLYMPIA
And now came the march of the Archaeological
Cavalry. No more railroad trains, no more carriages.
The mountains lay between us and Olympia; the
only fitting way to approach that world-renowned
arena for the Greek games was by a few days of
severe athletic exercise. With all the assistance we
could get from mules and horses, we should still
have enough muscular exertion to bring us to Olym-
pia with a proper self-respect and a fellow-feeling for
the athletes and travellers who made the journey in
ancient days. The ladies had already deserted us,
not being invited to this test of endurance, and a few
" tender feet " took the back track to Corinth and made
a roundabout journey by rail. But a large part of
the charm of the trip was the crossing of the Arca-
dian mountains in the spirit and the fashion of the
early days. The whole aspect of the expedition was
changed. It became at once more antique, more heroic,
more picturesque. Frequently it became more amus-
ing. The little Danish professor who maintained his
dignity and composure on wheels and rails had all he
could do to command them in the saddle. His efforts
to keep on and the amount of exercise he seemed to
get out of a hard trot excited inextinguishable Hom-
eric laughter, except from those who were too sym-
pathetic or too doubtful of their own position to sit
in the seat of the scornful. I have taken more than
THE PELOPONNESUS 283
one photograph of the Archaeological Cavalry in
motion, but I am not unkind enough to reproduce the
pictures in this book. A Greek saddle shaped some-
thing like a sawbuck is not the most comfortable
seat in the world, and the Dalmatian priest, whose
card, large enough for a Christmas chromo, was cov-
ered with an extended enumeration of honors, titles
and functions, ought to have been excused from any
additional penance. My sympathies went out to the
little animal which had to bear this mass of erudition.
If, like Balaam's ass, the gift of speech had been con-
ferred on this Peloponnesian mule, he might have
addressed the priest in any one of six or eight lan-
guages with a hope of being understood. The mule-
teers or agogiats who went along kept up a continual
shouting and beating, and my sturdy pony was not
relieved of this annoyance until I had thrown away
the boy's club, and with pardonable exaggeration
threatened to throw him over a precipice if he struck
my beast again.
With twenty-five horses and mules, three pack
mules, and eight or more agogiats, all under the com-
mand of Colonel Dorpfeld, to whom a military title
in this connection seems more appropriate, we left
Megalopolis and marched on Lykosoura. Though
tradition claims it as the site of the oldest town in
Greece and the early seat of the Arcadian kings, its
ruins seemed modern compared with those of Mycenae
and Tiryns, and even with those of Corinth and
Athens.
The temple of Despoina was the main object of
our pilgrimage. The ruins are not imposing except
from their situation. It was a Doric temple, but none
284 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of its columns are in place. The fragments of tri-
glyphs and moulding are of poor workmanship, and,
taken with the fact that the inscriptions found are
Roman, point to a Roman building, though elements
have been derived from an earlier structure. The
Greek priest who stood uncovered upon the threshold
seemed as if he might have been one of the original
worshippers.
On a ridge commanding a panoramaof the Arcadian
mountains and plains, Demetrius, our chief guide,
spread our luncheon while we were inspecting the
temple ruins. He built a fire, made a wooden spit,
impaled a sacrificial lamb, and roasted it in primitive
Homeric style over a bed of coals. This lamb with
black bread, and wine for the wine drinkers, made the
substance of our paschal meal on a day which Europe
not Greece was celebrating as Good Friday. We
crossed Mount Lycaeus, from which we had a splendid
view of the plains of Messenia to the south, with Tay-
getus (7,900 feet) covered with snow. The intervening
hills are stern and treeless, but the valley is checkered
with red and green. We faced Laconia. Sparta lay
hidden beyond the mountains. This hard, bleak coun-
try might well have been the home of Lycurgus. It is
not a land flowing with milk and honey ; it is still to-
day the land of black bread and wine. The camera
could only blink helplessly at the magnificent scenery.
We were in the very centre of the Peloponnesus, in a
sanctuary of peaks and altars, with n'estling valleys and
the Alpheius singing its way to the sea. Greece is
persistently mountainous. The whole Peloponnesus
is " rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun." The strips
and squares of plain, if quilted together, would not
-^^/.. -":,?:,_^^^
v.\brT?>
Of THE
^NIVERS/TY
QPvN\^,
THE PELOPONNESUS 285
cover more than two or three Texan or Dakota
farms. If there were gold in these mountains, the
Arcadians might be wealthy, but they cannot reap it
in their fields. Spartan frugality, I suspect, was a
virtue of necessity, and it is so to-day. How hard for
the people to squeeze a living from these ungenerous
mountains ; how they scrimp and save in their penury !
Yet there are no beggars among them.
We spent the night at a little village called Amve-
lonia, a mountain vineyard with walled terraces and
houses built of limestone quarried from the hills. I
went into a little house of one story where a wid-
owed mother was living with her three children. The
woman made a fire, spread a rug for me on the hearth,
and brought milk and a kind of hearth cake, heavy
but sweet, such as I had not before tasted. The little
girl brought some flowers. The older daughter, about
fifteen years of age, had beautiful dark eyes, regular
features, and a sweet illuminating smile which bright-
ened the whole room. Her brother was a manly boy
a year or two older. At my request he brought his
school book, and by the light of the fire read some
passages from Xenophon in the old Greek with a sense
of kinship, as if it really were his grandmother tongue.
My regret as we left in the early morning was that
the sun jealously refused to shine for my kodak on
the sweet girl's face.
Every traveller who has visited Bassae expresses
surprise at suddenly finding this noble temple away
up on the mountain. Though we knew it was there
and had come to see it, our interest was not less keen
when we found it. It is not, like the Parthenon, visi-
ble from every point of the compass. The mountain
286 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
has furnished its own propylaea, a wild and rocky
approach, the only columns those of sturdy sentinel
oaks. As the temple at Sunium is pre-eminently the
shrine of the sea, so that at Bassse is the shrine of the
mountains; and as at Sunium you feel that the islands
and the sea belong to the holy precinct, so at Bassae
the grand environment of rock and peak seem a part
of the sanctuary. We had entered one of nature's
solitudes, and this old Doric temple, built of a hard
bluish gray limestone quarried from the mountain on
which it stands, seemed to be a part of the scenery.
The temple is supposed to have been built on the site
of a still more ancient shrine to Apollo, and is dedi-
cated to the same god. In modern times we build
churches where we think people will resort to them ;
in primitive days of nature worship the Greeks built
their altars where they thought the gods loved to come.
There is no sign of an older building, and the earliest
worship was probably at a scenic shrine. A pecu-
liarity of the temple is that, contrary to all precedents,
it lies north and south, the entrance being at the north.
It would have been harder work, though not impos-
sible, to orient it to the east, as was generally done.
It has other peculiarities, the most striking being the
cross walls in the cella, each of which is terminated by
a half-round Ionic column. Dr. LoUing's supposition,
as given in Baedeker, that the floor was hollowed out
to collect rain water, is accounted for and refuted
by the fact that the foundation has sunk in the
middle.
We were quartered for the night in the little village
of Saka, beautifully situated on the side of a hill look-
ing down to the Alpheius. A party of thirty-three
THE PELOPONNESUS 28/
men and twenty-eight animals coming down upon it
taxed the accommodations of the little village without
hotel or inn. The five Americans and one German
who slept in one room were pleased to find that there
were no other inhabitants. The only powder we
carried on the trip for self-defence insect powder
was unnecessary.
On Sunday morning, April 2d, when the Easter
bells of the European world were ringing their glad-
ness, we began at seven o'clock our last day's march
to Olympia. ' As the Greek Easter is twelve days
behind the European, our celebration was only
postponed. The way led through shady pine groves
and along fresh valleys, in marked contrast to the
rough, treeless mountains we had crossed. Apple-
trees were in full blossom, birds were singing in the
branches, and spring flowers opening under our feet.
About noon we took lunch at a little village called
Mazi. Men, women and children turned out in full
force to see the cavalcade. As nearly all recent
travellers go to Olympia by rail from Patras or
Athens, a circus of mounted archaeologists was a
rare event to the villagers. If we had been disposed
to pass ourselves off as a belated remnant of the last
great Olympian procession, the Mazi Greeks might
have lost faith in traditions of physical perfection,
and presented our Danish professor with some cob-
bler's wax and a copy of Xenophon's treatise on
horsemanship. As we descended the slope into the
valley of the Alpheius, the view was exquisite. To
the west the Ionian Sea lay before us, and there was
Zante veiled in a soft mist, calm, convalescent, pen-
sive, as if regaining its strength after racking convul-
288 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
sions. The rolling, wooded hills and verdant valleys
reminded me of northern New England.
And now the Puritan reader may put in a protest :
** Under the plea of visiting the shrines of Greece
you have taken us all to the theatre, and now, under
a similar plea, you are taking us to an ancient Greek
circus, to horse races, boxing matches and the rough
and tumble pancratic fight." The reply is, if you
are seeking the shrines of Greece you must seek
them where they were the altar in the centre of
the theatre and the altar of Zeus in the centre of
the Altis or sacred precinct at Olympia. The Olym-
pian games were an outgrowth of Greek life, Greek
nationality and Greek religion. It was a matter of
tradition that the gods themselves had taken part in
these contests and thus set the fashion. To develop
the body was a fundamental principle of Hellenic
educators. Daily exercise in the palaestra was as
natural and necessary as eating and drinking. Soc-
rates was an example of a muscular philosopher
inured to fatigue, trained to temperance and frugality.
Body without brains and brains without body lacked
the balanced manhood of the Greek ideal.
The sense of nationality was gratified in these
games, from which all barbarians were excluded;
and once in four years, through the very rivalry of
this contest, Greece was at unity with itself; for a
truce of a month was proclaimed among all the
States, while athletes and spectators, artists, mechan-
ics, authors, philosophers and statesmen from every
part of Greece were going and returning. There
was an ethical side to it in the laws against fraud
and the exclusion of criminals. The religious fea-
THE PELOPONNESUS 289
hire was not a thin veneer of ceremony, but the cen-
tral pivot on which the whole celebration turned.
The simple physical proportions of the sacred pre-
cinct, of the great temple of Zeus, the temple of
Hera and the Mother of the gods, with the great
multitude of altars, show to the traveller to-day how
large and important a place religion had in the exer-
cises. The unprofessional, joyous, patriotic character
of the games, the unmercenary reward, a branch
from the sacred olive-tree, the absence of vulgarity
and coarseness in the palmy days of the contests,
the added refinement of music, poetry, literature and
art, all gave these games an artistic elevation which
made them seem but a great national expression of
the Greek striving after perfection.
As we rode down from Mazi, approaching Olympia
from the southeast, the hill of Cronion and the
Alpheius winding below came in sight. I tried to
imagine myself in the seventy-seventh Olympiad
(472 B. C), riding with Themistocles as a barbarian
spectator to the Olympian games. For centuries
before that date the flower of the Greek nation had
crossed these mountains, over the same trails, and
seen Cronion and the two rivers and peaceful Zante
in the calm sea. It is one of the insensible charms
of travel in Greece that you may frequently surrender
yourself to illusions which for a while there is noth-
ing to disturb. The imagination dilates in a con-
genial atmosphere, and what you see is some soft
refraction of reality, or the diffused glow of a sunset
of poetry and tradition not yet faded into night.
Then the illusion is dispelled, but you are surprised
again to find how much reality is left. A jolt of
19
290 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
your horse brings you back suddenly to the nine-
teenth century. Your dream is gone. You expect
to see the hills and the islands dissolve too; but
they stay there, and you feel and know that you
are indissolubly united to ages that are past by
this very reality, by the constancy and truth of a
beautiful picture. Sky, mountain, rivers, sea, island
and plain were theirs, and they are yours.
We reached the Alpheius. It is still a live river.
We were ferried across with our mounts in two or
three relays in a large flat boat, and with the en-
thusiasm of youthful cavaliers galloped up to the
xenodocheion,
Olympia is situated on the north bank of the
Alpheius, and to the west of the small but mischiev-
ous Cladeus, which is mainly responsible through a
change of its course for burying the sacred and out-
lying precincts under acres of sand. Excluding the
stadion, the whole ground covered by the various
buildings with the intervening space was but little
over ten acres. The Altis, or sacred precinct in
which was the central altar, was about six hundred
feet square. To the east was Cronion, a hill which
furnished grateful shade and overlooked the whole
ground. For a thousand years the Greek games,
beginning in undated traditions, were held in this
place until they died out in the fourth century after
Christ. Then Nature and man both combined to
cover the place where they were held from the sight
of future ages. Earthquakes shattered the temples.
Barbarians, once excluded from Olympia, save as
spectators, swooped down to take a belated revenge,
THE PELOPONNESUS 29 1
and walls were built to resist them. Christians with
no respect for pagan traditions built a village in the
sacred precinct and used fragments of the old temples.
Successive inundations of the Cladeus covered the
whole place with a layer of sand from ten to twenty
feet deep.
Acting on an early suggestion of Winckelmann, the
French conducted brief excavations in 1829, discov-
ered the site of the temple of Zeus, and took a few
sculptures to the Louvre. It was left for the German
government, under the lead of Ernst Curtius and the
Crown Prince Frederick, to win the olive crown. A
million of marks, or two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars, were spent by that government, not to en-
rich its own museums, but to uncover for the whole
world this buried but unforgotten shrine of Hellenic
nationality and pride. The excavations continuing
from 1875 to 1 88 1 were conducted under a directory in
Berlin, of which Curtius and Adler were members. It
was at Olympia that Dr. Dorpfcld, coming in the third
year of the excavations, won his spurs as an architect.
The work cost more than anywhere else on account
of the great mass of sand to be removed. The
wicked Cladeus was made to do penance by carrying
off on its bosom a large amount of the sand and silt
it had brought down. Its energy in the work of
restitution only showed how much sand a small river
could carry and made it possible to believe how much
it had done that needed undoing. Fortunately the
<^^ggi"g St Olympia was done scientifically, and Mr.
Syngros, a wealthy and patriotic Athenian, built
a handsome museum in which to shelter the sculp-
tures and the sixteen thousand bronzes.
292 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
For three days we stayed at Olympia, and every
day Dr. Dorpfeld conducted his eager band to the
Altis and lectured six or seven hours, leaving us still
time to examine the sculptures in the museum. I had
paid a visit to Olympia by rail six months before,
and could understand why a prominent German philol-
ogist whom I met thought half a day there enough.
Even with so excellent a guide-book as Baedeker, the
stones are more or less dumb. It was a different
experience after the pilgrim preparation of our moun-
tain march to find our warm hopes amply fulfilled
in the brilliant exposition of these ruins by the
man whose youthful enthusiasm found here its first
opportunity. Though a multitude of details of tech-
nique and structure were brought before us, they
were all so assembled and organized that, as if by a
reanimating trump of the genius that first constructed
them, walls rose on foundations, columns on stylo-
bates, capitals on columns, architraves on capitals,
triglyphs, beams, tiles and ornaments took their
places, and temples, altars, treasure-houses, council-
chambers, were rebuilt before us in grand Apoca-
lypse. There was the great temple of Zeus with its
colossal statue of Phidias; the Heraeon, the oldest
Doric temple in Greece ; the temple to the Mother of
the Gods ; the central altar of Zeus, the Philippeion ;
the treasuries established by different cities ; the Bou-
leuterion, where the athletes took the regulation oath;
the Palaestra; the gymnasium and exercise-grounds;
the stadion ; the Echo colonnade ; and the Leonidaeon,
of whose uses we are ignorant. We could form some
idea, too, from their bases of the vast number of
altars and statues which reminded spectators and
THE PELOPONNESUS 293
contestants of both men and gods. The Byzantine
church had unique interest as an ancient Christian
shrine. In the museum, too, we could see pediment
sculptures of the Zeus temple ; the bold Victory of
Paeonius, recalling the Victory of Samothrace in the
Louvre; and, peerless in its exquisite grace, beauty
and finish, the Hermes of Praxiteles. We can imag-
ine, on seeing this statue, what influence the Olympic
games must have had upon sculpture in the develop-
ment of models of physical perfection.
The scientific results of this excavation have already
been fully published, and many essays have been
written upon them. To these the student may turn
either for a detailed description of the games or of
the buildings. Impossible to reproduce in any book
are not only many details of technique, texture and
workmanship, but an atmosphere whose freshened
breezes seemed to waft the aroma of earlier days.
The Cronion, the Alpheius, the Cladeus, the spread-
ing plain, the encircling hills, are still the framework
of the heroic picture. And after you have bathed in
the Cladeus, climbed Cronion, gathered anemones in
the plain, crossed the threshold of the sacred pre-
cinct and brooded over its altars, the genius of
history seems to come back again and renew its
spell.
Of Dr. Dorpfeld's lectures the most fascinating to
me was that on the Heraeon, showing the development
of the Doric architecture from the wooden structure.
The evidence here, which it would require a long
chapter to detail, seems conclusive.
Our last night at Olympia was given up to an
international jollification in honor of our leader.
294 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Speeches were made in German, French, English,
Italian, Latin and Greek, and the American contri-
bution was an Alabama negro melody set to German
words and sung by a quartette, three of whom were
college professors. Shades of Pindar !
Our return trip to Athens was made by rail, and
our ten days' journey was finished in the allotted
time.
V
PHOCIS
DELPHI
Olympia lay on the plain ; Delphi on the slope of
Parnassus and under the shadow of the Shining Cliffs.
Olympia drew all Greece to it; but Delphi claimed
to be the navel, the very centre of the world. As
Olympia was the site of the great athletic games
for all Greece, so Delphi became a sanctuary of na-
tional interest and importance. In neither place was
there a city; both were away from the main centres
of population and far apart from each other, Olym-
pia in Elis near the Ionian Sea, and Delphi in Phocis,
north of the Corinthian gulf. The fame of Delphi
rested on its oracle ; but the Greek love for athletics
and dramatic art revealed itself here in the course of
time, and not only was there a magnificent temple of
Apollo, but a stadium, and once in every four years
the Pythian games were celebrated. The place had
also a great political significance as the seat of that
interesting and ancient federation of States, the Del-
phic Amphictyony.
In marked contrast to my trip to Olympia my
journey to the Delphic oracle was made entirely
alone. What better day upon which to consult the
voice of destiny than one's birthday? Taking the
train from Athens to Corinth, I crossed the gulf in
a steamer to Itea. The boat was as tipsy as if it had
a cargo of wine aboard, but Dionysus could not be
blamed ; the Corinthian gulf was in a sulky mood.
298 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
From the gulf, Parnassus, being one of a range of
peaks, does not seem so high as it really is. The
snow that lay on it was a warning that an ascent would
not be advisable. At Itea I hired a tough pony with
a boy, another Greek Nicholas, for a guide. The
moon rose beautifully as we crossed the plain wind-
ing through olive groves. After an hour in the valley
the road steadily ascended, for Delphi" is some two
thousand feet above the sea. We passed through the
picturesque village of Chryso, its white houses bril-
liantly illumined by the full moon. A clear stream of
water through which my pony splashed flowed down
one of the narrow streets. Men and women in the
doorways responded to my greeting.
The village of Delphi was set on the steep moun-
tain-side. It added much to the mystic spell
of the old oracle to approach the place by night.
The bright moon flooding the valley and silvering
the gulf, the deep shadows of the great cliffs, the
water rushing through the narrow gorge between
them, the dark masses of olives below, the ominous
silence broken only by the voice of the fountain, the
remoteness of every suggestion of modern life, all
seemed to harbor deep and hidden mysteries which
might find utterance in some new-old oracle.
There is no inn at Delphi, but I found accommoda-
tion in the house of the keeper of antiquities, Paras-
kevas. With more faith in the Christian than in the
pagan tradition he asked me if I would please allow
the lamp to burn under the icon of the Virgin in a
niche in my chamber. I respected his piety and was
blessed with dreamless sleep.
I rose at half-past four, and after a breakfast of
PHOCIS 299
boiled eggs, white bread and milk, left with a mule
and guide for the Corycian grotto. The road as-
cended in short zigzags up steep terraces, till after
a rise of several hundred feet we skirted the mountain
and descended into a beautiful wooded valley where
peasants were cutting timber for their new houses at
Delphi. The French Government had bought the
whole village, and as fast as possible houses were
being removed to make way for excavations. Almost
lost to view under their loads, heavily timbered fore
and aft with projecting bowsprits and elongated rud-
ders, these beasts of burden looked more like a flotilla
of rafts or a detachment of battering rams than like
mountain mules. We halted in the hollow near a
large pond of water and unbridled and tethered the
mule. If the Delphic oracle is dumb the Delphic
cuckoos are still vocal, and one of them called thirty-
two times without stopping. I could only think of a
German cuckoo clock on the strike, not to be arrested
until it is run down. If it were not treason to cherish
a common Gothic superstition at Delphi, the oracular
cuckoo meant that I had thirty-two years more to
live.
We climbed the steep ascent to the grotto. The
entrance is small and low, but immediately beyond
the threshold it widens into a great cavern two hun-
dred and fifty or three hundred feet long, two hun-
dred feet wide, and thirty or forty feet high. The
water still oozed from the roof as in the days of Pau-
sanias. We lighted our torches and entered deeper
into the gloom. Taking off shoes and stockings we
climbed up wet and muddy rocks so steep and
smooth that with difficulty one could get a footing,
30O THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
passed into a chamber about a hundred feet long and
followed the grotto clear to the end. Picturesque
stalactites hung from the roofs and sides. Pan and
the nymphs to whom this grotto was dedicated had
gone, but Echo lingered there and had not taken
cold in this dampness. The resonance was magnifi-
cent. We were in a temple not made with hands and
older than any buried under the village below.
Pausanias says it is a feat for an able-bodied man
to climb Parnassus from this point. I tried to per-
suade my guide to climb with me, but he was inex-
orable, and no doubt wisely so, for we were not
prepared for an ascent through snow and ice.
Descending in the afternoon, I made my way up
through the gorge of the Phaedriades or Shining Cliffs
to the source of the Castalian spring, which Pausanias
said was good to drink and which I found as refresh-
ing as he. Every pilgrim in ancient times was ex-
pected to purify himself at this spring. Below, women
were vigorously washing clothes in the poetic waters
as if cleanliness were next to godliness. A flock of
sheep was quietly resting under the shade of great
plane-trees which, it is pleasant to think, may be suc-
cessors of those planted by Agamemnon.
It is nature that built this shrine at Delphi, and,
however much we may regret the buried temples
looted by Nero and others, the scenery must always
have been the awe-inspiring element in this great
sanctuary. Lofty Parnassus, the towering cliffs, the
deep gorge, the flowing spring, the broad wooded
valley below through which the river makes its way
to the gulf, tell the traveller why the Delphic oracle
was here.
PHOCIS 301
Pausaiiias devotes not a little space to a descrip-
tion of the invasion by the Gauls, 279 B. C, and their
repulse by the Greeks. It is a curious coincidence
that more than twenty-one centuries later the Gauls
should invade Delphi again with the deliberate pur-
pose of removing the whole town and uncovering
with reverent hands the temples which their remote
and barbaric forefathers sought to destroy. With a
large force of men with picks and shovels, and small
cars running on rails to carry the debris to a long
distance, these enterprising Gauls were industriously
unearthing the Delphi of the past, and had already
laid bare the terrace of the temple of Apollo. One
of their most remarkable and significant discoveries
was yet to be made. Pausanias speaks of the hymns
sung in honor of Apollo and of the contests that grew
out of them. Such songs, like the voice of the priest-
ess, have long since died away on the air, and who
could have supposed that the echoes of this music
would come back to our ears? I scarce imagined
that beneath the ground I trod were stones whose
mute music after twenty centuries of silence would
burst into song. A few months after my visit the
French School discovered two stones containing a
hymn to Apollo, with the Greek musical notation at-
tached. It is a hymn of praise to the god, to the
slayer of the hostile dragon, for beating back the
Gauls, That the name of the Gauls should have been
inscribed on this very stone which their modern succes-
sors unearthed completes the remarkable coincidence.
To the triumph of uncovering the stones was added
the triumph of the directors and associates of the
French School in deciphering them. It was fitting
302 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
that these sons of Gaul should first render at Athens
a hymn which was sung by the pilgrims of the Attic
metropolis as they passed thick-wooded Helicon and
came to the waters of Castalia's plenteous spring under
the twin peaks.
I have since had the privilege of bringing out with
a chorus this hymn in the " Athens of America." It
has been harmonized in Paris and in Athens, but I
prefer to print it without modern alloy, that the reader
may get as close as possible to the original. As the
invasion of the Gauls took place in 279 B. c. it is
supposed that this hymn was composed soon after.
Rendered with a chorus of male and female voices,
with flutes and harp, observing carefully the f rhythm,
one may form, in spite of the breaks in the stone,
indicated in the copy by the rests, some idea of the
form and spirit of the oldest known piece of music in
the world.
Like certain music as extremely modern as this is
extremely ancient, it must be not only heard but
absorbed. In two public renderings I have found
that singers would at first persistently count six-eight
instead of five-eight time, and that the tonality, espe-
cially on the last page, seemed difficult and arbitrary;
but after sufficient rehearsal the best musicians sung
it with satisfaction and admiration. The addition of
simple harmonies on the harp or piano helps the
general effect. The key of F minor of the music that
follows is not derived from the original stone, but
from a modern transcription. Some fragmentary
words in the original have been omitted.
PHOCIS
303
THE DELPHIC HYMN TO APOLLO
Moderato.
fei i I J ;_-^JU- J ^ M r g g c
Tbv _ Kt - da - pi - o-et kKv - toi' irat - 6a /uie ya
^ / J g 1^=^ ^ 1 ; / ^
Aov At - bs e - pu (r' a ' re irap* d - Kpo - ri 0^
^r ff gr^a ^' J^-Jirr ir-7
Tov - 5e ira. - you a/u, - /3po - ra npo - ira - <ri 0po
^ g r 1-^^^^^^
jijhfy-t~f
J J J J
TOis >rpo - (ftai - reis Xo - yi - a rpC - jto - 5a
ret - ov
(is el - Aes e - x^P^S S** - 'f>pov - pet 8pa
- re T - ot - o-t ^e - Ae - <rii/ rpij - eras
y^c r-T-T I r g f I ^ ^ ^ :
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PHOCIS
306 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
THE DELPHIC HYMN TO APOLLO.
[Sung by Attic men and maids in honor of the victory over the Gauls 279 b. c.]
Greek words and musical notes discovered at Delphi, October, 1893.
Translated by Francis Greenleaf Allinson, Ph.D.
Thee with the cithara famed, I '11 sing,
Son of great Zeus.
Thou by this snowy peak from thy shrine
Fore-shewest to mortals words divine ;
Thou madest the oracle's tripod thine
From guard of the dragon, implacable, fierce,
Whom, mottled and coiling, thy arrows pierce.
Now Galatan war-god's sibilant sting
Dost conquer and bruise.
Daughters of Zeus whose thunder rolls,
Fair armed, come.
Dowered with Helicon's leafy knolls,
Praise with your dances, praise with song
Golden-haired Phoebus, your blood and kin,
Who near Parnassus these hill-tops twin
Haunts where Castalia's fountain leaps
And visits precipitous Delphic steeps,
Th' oracle's home.
Glorious Attica's city of might,
Come with thy band.
Vows are fitting : thy dwellings stand
Scathless in arm^d Athena's land ;
On consecrate altars Hephaestus burns
Thighs of young bulls ; while Araby's smoke
Curls to Olympus : the flutes invoke
Melodies shrill with quavering turns ;
The cithara, sweet-voiced, golden, bright,
Hymneth its praise
And all who have share in this Attic rite
Their anthems raise.
MY LIITLE MONK.
THE MONASTERY OF ST. LUKE
I made my pilgrimage to the Delphic shrine and
the grotto of Pan; they were not wholly dumb for
me. I determined to balance my religious accounts
by visiting a Christian shrine, famed for beauty of
site and structure, the monastery of St. Luke, about
nine hours by mule from Delphi. Rising at five
o'clock on Sunday, May 28, I asked my host for his
bill. For two nights' lodging and four meals Kyrios
Paraskevas charged me ten drachmas, at that time
equal to $1.40, to which I added two drachmas for
his attentive wife.
On this trip from Delphi to St. Luke's I found
the best agogiat that I had seen in Greece. The
agogiat is the man or boy who acts as guide, groom,
and general factotum. The Grecian mule, wearing a
halter instead of a bit and having a loose girth, is
saved some of the miseries of his American contem-
porary. The rider has little power over him when
he wishes to choose his own road, but as a general
thing he is so intelligent that it is best to defer to
him in such matters. When there is any appeal
from his decision the agogiat acts as umpire. He
walks by the mule's side, urges him with whip or
voice, and as the animal seldom goes out of a walk
he has no difficulty in keeping up with him. The
saddle is a peculiar wooden structure, like an inverted
pig-trough, with Gothic projections useful for half
308 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
hitches in lashing burdens. There is nothing, whether
it be a load of timber, water casks, brush-wood,
or crockery, that a good agogiai cannot pack on
the animal's back and fasten in a style akin to the
" diamond hitch " of our northwestern muleteer.
My agogiat on this trip bore the distinguished
name of the ''All holy Luke" (Panagiotes Loukas
Kapellou), and seemed to me to be worthy of the
title. He was a strong, heavy-built man, a little
over fifty years of age, cosmopolitan in dress. Though
he did not wear the fustanella skirt, he trod the soil
in Greek shoes and leggings. His long blue and
white peasant blouse coming to the knees was but-
toned down the middle and corded round the waist.
His large head, with a frank, open, full-bearded face,
was crowned with a straw hat. Without excep-
tion he had the best looking mule that I saw in
Greece, a strong, round, sleek animal, well fed and
well bred. The saddle was actually provided with
stirrups, and instead of the usual narrow strap which
cuts and irritates the animal the breeching band was
as broad as my hand.
Leaving Delphi we rode through a large olive grove
belonging to Panagiotes ; the trees seemed as well
kept as the mule. The nightingales were singing
joyfully. Clear, eager streams crossed our paths,
some of them thriftily diverted into the olive groves
for irrigation. Leaving the groves the path ascended
long steep hills, from the highest of which after a
ride of two hours we had a fine view of Arachova on
the left. I was glad about nine o'clock of a slice of
the brown bread which Panagiotes carried in his
wallet. About noon we reached Distomo, a little
PHOCIS 309
village near the site of the ancient Ambrysus, and
stopped at the inn for an hour's rest. While the
keeper cooked a piece of lamb for our lunch I sat
down in a room filled with men and boys. Taking
a Greek book from my pocket I got some of the
boys to read patriotic selections, including the na-
tional hymn. Considering that I found these boys
in a little mountain village they read remarkably
well. The road from Distomo offered easier grades,
and we reached St. Luke's about three o'clock.
The situation of the monastery is simply exquisite.
It is built on a mountain slope overlooking a fertile
valley. Green barley fields contrast with dark under-
brush, and here and there a grove of olives ; beyond
are sloping foot-hills and grander mountains. The
birds were singing blithely, the sun was radiant, and
the whole landscape, a beautiful combination of curve
and color, seemed vivified by the germinating warmth
of a May day. St. Luke's long held the titles of
" The queen of the monasteries and the glory of
Hellas." It is dedicated not to the good physician
whose name is affixed to one of the Gospels, but to
a later Greek saint who distinguished himself by his
piety a thousand years ago and around whose tomb
the monastery was built. It contains two churches.
The larger one has suffered much from pillage, earth-
quake and decay, but some of the better mosaics
are still well preserved. There are forty-five monks
in the monastery and thirty laborers. From their
olive groves and vineyards they derive a good income.
I was interested in the church, in the ground, in the
hegoumenos, or prior, in the beautiful scenery, but
most of all in Basileios.
3IO THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Basil, as we called him for short, was a boy of
thirteen. He was dressed in a monk's gown, but
his ecclesiastical hat was not so high as that of his
elders ; it will grow with the boy. He was a monk
in the opening bud ; but the bloom of the boy was
more exquisite than that of the monk. His eyes
were a soft brown, even more expressive than his
tongue. Through them you could read his guileless
mind. He spoke Greek not with Athenian purity,
but with a soft, winning accent. At first he spoke
only in a whisper, as if the sanctity of the place would
be broken if he talked louder. But after he knew
me better he spoke with more ardor, and some-
times faster than I could follow. He went about
bare-footed, and I envied him his freedom from
shoe-leather. As I had come too late for service I
confessed my wanderings to my brave little acolyte
and said the Lord's Prayer to him in Greek.
Basil is an important element in the refectory.
The monastery is not conducted on the communal
plan. The hegotimenos lives by himself and takes his
meals with another monk in a separate dining-room.
Basil does the cooking. The meat for our dinner was
cut into little pieces and spitted on an iron rod with a
crank on one end. The monk basted the meat as
the boy turned it patiently on the spit. I had a
room to mj^self and plenty of books, but I found it
more interesting in the cool of the evening to sit in
front of the fire and watch the revolutions of the
spit, looking now and then into my little monk's
deep eyes and trying to win his smile by some
attempted pleasantry. Basil reminded me of the
lame boy I saw at Gastouri radiant with sunshine.
PHOCIS 311
Such faces I should like to look upon in some cloudy
day in my life, to rekindle my hope from a shining
heart
About eight o'clock we sat down to dinner, con-
sisting of meat and vegetables, bread and wine. We
were four at the table, the hegoumenoSy the other
priest, Panagiotes and myself. The priests crossed
themselves and said KohJqv ope^cv. The hegoumenos
piled my plate high ; as for the rest they took little
on their plates, but each with his fork hooked a piece
from the general dish. There was a suggestion of
New Testament communism and the paschal meal
when they took pieces of bread on their forks and
dipped them into the central platter.
In the evening I had a talk with the hegoumenos
and with Panagiotes sitting on the veranda in the
moonlight and looking into the moonlit valley below.
We talked about the Greek Church and about the
monasteries.
" To become a member of the Greek Church "
said the hegoumenos, " you must accept the faith of
the church according to the Gospel."
"What do you think of the old philosophers,
Socrates and Plato and the rest of them?" I asked.
"Did they go to punishment or to heaven?"
"I don't know," he answered. He did not seem
to have any sharp belief on questions of eschatology
but Panagiotes promptly suggested : " I believe a
man who has lived a good life here will have a good
life there, and a man who has been bad here will be
bad there." I could not discover any anxiety as to
the fate of the heathen, and the prior seemed more
disturbed at the proposition in Athens to raise from
312 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the monasteries a fund from which to pay the priests.
The Greek Church is not a missionary church.
It was just four o'clock the next morning when I
heard a voice whisper in my ear. It was Basil. I
dislike alarm clocks and did not wind him up to go
off at that hour, but he seemed to take the respon-
sibility of my religious education, and in his small
still voice said that there were services in the chapel,
and that it was the festival of the Holy Trinity. It
was rain, not the service, that interfered with an
early start, but the rain fell as gently as if it were a
part of the ritual, and far more musically than the
voices that intoned it. By half-past seven the shower
had passed, the sun came out bright, and a fresh
breeze blew over the hills. I said good-by to the
monks and to Basil and started back to Delphi with
my guide and his mule. Sometimes I walked for an
hour and let Panagiotes ride, and often going up the
hill we both walked and gave the mule a rest. My
respect for this sturdy Greek increased the more I
knew him. He could speak no language but his
own, but he could read and write that, for I made
excuses for testing him in both ways. He was
remarkably intelligent. He knew the drift of Greek
politics and the Scylla and Charybdis of Greek
finance. *' You ought to have gone to Parliament,"
I said. " No," he answered, *' I have not the edu-
cation;" but it was perfectly clear that he had the
brains. He is not without honor in his own town ;
he has represented the modern Delphi in the nom-
archy and been president of the council. As we
rode through the village of Distomo I asked him
what it meant that so many men were lying round
PHOCIS 313
doing nothing. He reminded me that it was the
feast of the Trinity and immediately repeated a
passage from the creed. I am convinced that the
Greeks have too many holidays and that the church
calendar might profitably be reduced about one
half.
We rode for a long time on our way back to
Delphi in full view of Parnassus. The grandeur of
the mountain is indescribable. The sun shone on
its snow-covered peaks; soft white clouds gathered
round its breast ; then, as if trying how to drape it
best, they swept up the steep and wound a fleecy tur-
ban round its brow. Only a few minutes did this co-
quetry last ; soon the " eternal sunshine settled on its
head." Equally striking was the yiew from the high-
est point of our trail of the Corinthian Gulf with the
mountains of the Peloponnesus in the background,
while the valley as we rode towards Delphi spread
its varied charm. These were the same views that
greeted the eyes of the pilgrims to the sacred shrine
as they came so many centuries ago chanting their
hymns to Apollo. Mountain and valley, gulf and
grove, sky and atmosphere were all Greek, but not
more so than my good Panagiotes. He belonged to
the landscape; and in his stalwart frame, active
mind, and thrifty hand some of the best spirit of the
old Greek race was preserved.
VI
THESSALY
TEMPE AND METEORA
If "aller guten Dinge sind drei," then our
Thessalian party was of the right number. Pro-
fessor Tarbell, the director of the American Archae-
ological School at Athens, had planned the campaign ;
Mr. Roddy, a student, and myself made up the other
sides of the triangle. Taking a Greek steamer at
the Piraeus for Volo on the evening of the sixth of
May, we wisely sought our berths before reaching
Sunium, where Poseidon loves to rock the ocean
cradle. The steamer for Volo avoids the uncertain
temper of the ^gean and touches at the principal
ports of Euboea, which are on the west coast of the
island, by sailing through the strait which separates
it from Attica and Breotia. This channel is made
of two broad gulfs joined by a narrow strait, the
Euripus, which is divided by an islet that undoubt-
edly formed part of a ligament between Euboea and
the mainland. The channel is but seventy feet
wide on one side of this rock and thirty on the
other. A remarkable natural feature is the strong
and variable current which flows through this nar-
row strait. It was a puzzle to the ancients, and
has been a provocation to their descendants. The
statement of some of the early Greek and Roman
writers that the current sometimes changed seven
times a day is outdone by that of Rear-Admiral
3l8 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Mansell ^ of the British navy, who says he has known
it to change five times in an hour, and that the water
driven north upon the Thessalian coast by strong
southern winds will rush down through these straits
against the wind at a velocity of eight knots an
hour. One of the poisonous legends which some-
times entwine themselves round a great man's
memory had an aquatic origin here. It was to the
effect that Aristotle drowned himself because he
could not fathom the secrets of these currents, say-
ing, " Inasmuch as I cannot take thee in, take thou
me in." It seems a literary cruelty to spoil such a
well-balanced antithesis even to save a philosopher
from drowning, but the story has a fishy odor; and
it is the man who swallows it who is taken in.
We arrived at the Euripus at seven a. m. , and were
obliged to wait three and a half hours on account of
the tide. But that was not nearly so long as the
Grecian fleet bound for Troy was detained here by
adverse winds in the Bay of Aulis. Taking warn-
ing by the fate of Agamemnon and Iphigenia, we
did not go hunting, but climbed the height to
sep just where a thousand Greek ships could find
anchorage in the harbor. I suspect that they must
have stretched out into the gulf, or that some of
them found their keel only in Homer's catalogue,
which by floating these hypothetical ships was more
easily floated itself.
Leaving Euripus, the channel widens into a gulf,
with the fertile fields of Euboea on the right and
the mountains of Boeotia on the left. Though too
late to catch a glimpse of Thermopylae, I fancied as
1 See Murray's Hand-Book.
THESSALY 319
we passed it that the atmosphere was a little warmer
because the Spartan heroes had there breathed out
their lives.
It was dark when we entered the Bay of Volo, and
nine o'clock when we arrived at the port of that
name at the head of this noble bay. Mount Pel ion,
5,300 feet high, towers above the city, its slopes
whitened by a score of villages long famous in
Greece for their wealth and independence. I re-
gretted that I had not time to visit these villages in
detail and study the sources of their thrift. But an
iron horse more powerful than the horses of Achilles
was ready to rush over the fertile plains where the
warrior's steeds were reared. We had no time to
climb Pelion to follow the trail of one-sandalled
Jason or to find the ash-tree from which Chiron cut
Peleus his famous spear. Eleven miles from Volo
we reached Velestino. The smoke of the locomotive
was mingled with a cloud of tradition which hung
over the ancient Pherae. Apollo, who here served
out his sentence as neatherd, King Admetus, Jason,
Alcestis, and Hercules, were all floating in the
invisible air, but could not be found on the solid
earth. A black, snorting locomotive and a train of
cars easily chase such apparitions to their graves.
At Velestina the road to Larissa runs north over the
broad fertile Thessalian plain. We were in no
pent-up valley ; we found something of the freedom
of our prairies, which one gets nowhere else in
Greece. Yet lest life here should become too flat
and too profitable, Pelion and Mavro Vouni, the
mountain wall to the east, and Ossa and Olympus
to the north, say "Thus far and no farther."
320 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Through the Graeco-Turkish War Larissa has
become familiar all over the world to people who
had never heard of it before. Its re-occupation by
the Turks gave them the key to Thessaly and opened
the way to Volo. As we sought it in the spring of
1893, it was lying peacefully on the banks of the
Peneius, a fine bridge spanning the classic river.
The contrast between Larissa and Athens, or any of
the larger cities of the Peloponnesus, is at once evi-
dent. The Turk has left his signature in mosque
and pencilled minaret, in Oriental dwellings, in
Turkish porters with capacious trousers, and that
most democratic of all head-coverings worn by
Sultan, generals, soldiers, gentlemen, bootblacks,
porters, and babies, the Turkish fez. The storks
were flying about with great liberty, and one of
sedentary habits and Mohammedan affinities had
built a nest on the top of a mosque and was sitting
upon it with ecclesiastical composure. The medley
of dress in Larissa is cosmopolitan, but discordant.
Some are half Turk and half European. Some wear
the Greek fustanella, others confine their Hellenism
to Greek shoes. Water is brought up from the river
in large pouches or skins on the backs of mules.
So well have law and order been extended over
Greece, that the only place where brigandage is
likely to break out is along the northern or Turkish
frontier; but we had good assurance that at Tempe
no guard was necessary, and did not trouble ourselves
to ask for a military escort. It is four and a half
hours' ride to Baba by carriage. We planned to
spend the night at that little village at the opening
of the Vale of Tempe and to return to Larissa the
THESSALY 321
next day. The first hackman asked sixty drachmas,
but by exploring the back streets we finally got one
for thirty-five (about five dollars).
We started at half-past twelve. The roads were
heavy from the rain of the previous night, the air was
fresh, and the fields were green. Thessaly is still
famous for its horses; many were grazing in the
fields, and there were great flocks of sheep and goats.
The broad expanse of plain was dotted here and
there with oaks, elms and plane-trees. An indus-
trious peasant was ploughing the field; his one-
handled plough was old enough for a museum, but
his oxen were well fed and strong. Alas, that this
Thessalian grain should be trampled under foot of
armed men ! Greece had long claimed and needed
these fertile fields, and they were long unjustly
withheld from her. She has plenty of water, but
she has needed more land to make a nation.
The mountains continually say to the traveller,
"Lift up thine eyes." There is Pelion to the right
with a touch of snow on its crest. Farther to the
north the sharp peak of Ossa rises above the moun-
tains and foothills that engird its base. Still farther
to the north and grandest of all is many-ridged,
snow-covered Olympus. The epithet TroXuSet/oa?,
"with many ridges," used in the Iliad, is of striking
fitness. It was not a literary conceit, for Nature
coined the adjective. Seen from the plain there
are five distinct ridges, as if five colossal, long-
backed, elephantine mountains had been harnessed
side by side and blanketed with snow. The great
snow mass was enough to soften but not to obscure
the wavy outline of the many ridges, and the clouds
322 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
gathered above as if enshrouding the aerial palace
of Zeus. Soon they floated off and left the upper
air clear and the peaks brilliant, recalling the beau-
tiful passage in the Odyssey, " So saying, gray-eyed
Athene passed away to Olympus, where they say the
seat of the gods stands fast forever. Not by winds
is it shaken, nor ever wet with rain, nor does the
snow come near, but cloudless upper air is spread
about it, and a bright radiance floats over it."
There would have been a decided change in the
scenery if those lively and precocious youngsters
Otus and Ephialtes had had their way in piling Ossa
on Olympus and Pelion on Ossa as stepping-stones
to higher things. They would have done it, says
Homer, with great confidence, if they had grown
up ; for they were only fifty-four feet high, and the
down had just begun to grow on their cheeks when
they were nipped in the bud, and went to long but
untimely graves.
We reached the little khan of Baba at five o'clock,
and after arranging for supper and lodging, had time
to take a walk through the Vale of Tempe before
sunset. This famous vale is, as its name signifies,
a " cut " or pass in the mountains. The cliffs which
form it belong on one side to the chain of Ossa and
on the other side to that of Olympus. The vale is
four and a half miles long. The cliffs rise with
noble grandeur, and through the gorge the Peneius
flows to the sea. Its banks are well wooded with
the plane, elm, oak, willow, and wild fig. Some of
the plane-trees are of great size. Especially impres-
sive was a pair of twin trunks rising from a gigantic
base. The rocks on each side were covered with
THE VALE OF TEMPE.
THESSALY 323
hardy bushes and clinging vines. We were in the
vale just in time for the fresh greenness of the
leaves, the spring-tide of the river and the spring
carols of the birds. Among them were the clear,
fluent, bell-like tones of the nightingale. Is it
more shy than most professional singers, or is it
only coquettish } We hid ourselves in the bushes to
get a glimpse of the Meistershtger^ for I dare not
call a male song-bird a prima donna. I was sur-
prised at the extreme plainness of the nightingale's
dress; its plumage is of a reddish brown with a dull
gray breast. In garb it is a sober Quaker among
the birds, and if the members of that religious
society were to hold a grove meeting in the Vale of
Tempe, they would not have the heart to condemn
the ravishing music of their feathered Friends. In
the distance the horological cuckoo was measuring off
his voice. The setting sun shone through the vale.
As we advanced, the mountains came nearer together,
until there was only room in the defile for the rush-
ing river and the roadway beside it. Far up on the
mountain-side was a small village, and, near it, fine
cows not very numerous in Greece were graz-
ing in the fields. The village on the terrace is
Ambelakia, which, in spite of its remoteness in this
vale, was famed in France and Europe for its dye-
ing and spinning, conducted on a co-operative plan.
We returned to the khan at sundown and had a
meal as plain as the plumage of the nightingale. It
was made up of brown bread, milk, and boiled eggs.
The eggs were fresh, the milk sweet, and the brown
bread wholesome. No animals disturbed our sleep
except an inquisitive cat, which jumped in the win-
324 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
dow and then jumped out again, while cuckoos in
the vale conscientiously counted the hours. We
adjusted our appetites to a breakfast which was an
exact repetition of our supper. Two swallows came
in and flew round the room. "What do you call
them.?" I asked the proprietor. "XeXtSoVt," he
answered, and the Homeric form ^eXiStwz^ is also
used.
We took a morning stroll in the vale, the beauties
of which grow by acquaintance. The whole valley
was vocal with bird songs. For a long distance
the road is lined with oaks and plane-trees, whose
trunks form a wall or palisade, their roots washed
by the rushing river, which sometimes overflows its
banks. Neither here nor at Larissa could I see
Homer's silver-eddying (apyvpoBiVT]^) river. It was
freighted with silt or clay, and in Dakota they
would have called it the "Little Muddy."
For centuries the Vale of Tempe has been famed
for its beauty. It has fairly won its reputation.
The comparison must be made not with the world
as we know it, not with Chamouni or Zermatt or
the great canons in the Rockies and Sierras of our
own land, but with other parts of Greece. Compared
especially with Attica, the Vale of Tempe must
have furnished a contrast then as now delightful to
the traveller. It is said that Pompey, fleeing through
the vale after his defeat at Pharsalus, drank, at the
end of a forty-mile ride, of the waters of the
Peneius.
We returned to Larissa for the night, and the
next morning started for Meteora and the mid-air
monasteries. To do this we were obliged to go
THESSALY 325
south by rail clear to Velestino, and thence north-
west, over another leg of the triangle, instead of
journeying across its base from Larissa to Trikkala.
We passed Pharsalus, which Leake thinks must be
regarded as the home of Achilles, but firmer historic
fame is found here in the battlefield of Caesar and
Pompey. Sheep were feeding on the great plain
where the battle was held, not dreaming of being
startled soon by Greek and Turkish musketry. In
the clear atmosphere Olympus, fifty miles away, did
not seem half so far, and still maintained its impos-
ing pre-eminence.
Phanari is rocky enough for the Homeric Ithome
with which its site is identified. The village slopes
to the plain where horses, cows and sheep were peace-
fully grazing.
Trikkala is the second largest town in Thessaly.
More picturesque is Kalabaka, at the western end
of the road under the shadows of the great cliffs of
Meteora. These cliffs are unlike any other forma-
tion in Greece. In our own northwest they would
be called buttes. They are groups of pillared peaks,
rising perpendicularly in lofty isolation on the
plain. Seen from a distance, one of these groups
might be taken for a vast cathedral with towers and
turrets. Another group rises in detached pinnacles
on the slope of the foothills. Upon this curious
assemblage of peaks were built in the fourteenth
century the famous Meteora ("mid-air") monas-
teries, originally twenty-four in number. It seems
a curious adventure for religion to isolate itself on
these lofty and almost inaccessible solitudes. But
for the monks of those turbulent times a mid-air
326 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
monastery served as a fortification as well as a
temple. It protected them not only from the temp-
tations of the world, but from the flesh and the devil
in the shape of robbers and marauders. Of the
twenty-four, but seven are now inhabited; the ruins
of the others, like deserted eyries, crown these stern
heights. As we stood under some of these perpen-
dicular pinnacles the wonder was not merely that
monasteries could be built upon them, but that any
human being could have scaled them to begin with.
Procuring a local guide, we made our way to the
foot of the Monastery of the Holy Trinity. There
are two methods of ascent to several of these monas-
teries; one is by a rope-ladder with wooden rungs
let down over the side of the cliff; the other is by
means of a net, rope and windlass. We wished to
try both methods, but as the windlass and rope were
out of order, we were obliged to climb by the rope-
ladder. Ascending first a flight of stairs of no diffi-
culty, we passed along a narrow walk cut in the side
of the cliff, the perils of which were only partly
reduced by a rickety hand-railing. It showed us
how much protection was needed and how little it
could furnish. After winding round and up the
cliff a considerable distance, we reached a ladder
enclosed in a box hanging over the side of a cliff,
and, ascending it, emerged into the monastery
through a trap-door.
The view from the top was magnificent. Grand
rocks rose on the other side of the chasm and grander
mountains beyond. Red-roofed Kalabaka lay below,
while through the plain wound the Peneius, more
worthy of the silver speech into which Homer had
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THESSALY 327
coined it. We had seen it rushing through the
narrow defile at Tempe, but here it leisurely un-
coils its length in an ample bed on the plain. In
the clear air above, an eagle was slowly circling,
its wings almost motionless, as if deciding which of
these deserted monasteries it would choose for its
nest. The ten monks in the monastery were courte-
ous and hospitable. When we saw the frayed-out
rope and the "general flavor of mild decay" sug-
gested by the windlass, not, like wine, the better
for age, we felt that here, at least, the ladder was
the lesser risk.
Descending the same way, we started for the Mon-
astery of Saint Stephen, which stands much higher.
By an easy bridle-path we climbed to the top of a
cliff separated from that on which Saint Stephen
stands by a deep abyss, spanned by a wooden draw-
bridge. When robbers and brigands threatened
the monastery the monks raised the drawbridge and
rested in security. It was only after repeated knock-
ings that we managed to make ourselves heard. An
attendant opened the door and conducted us through
a courtyard and upstairs into the reception-room of
the Archimandrite Constantius, who received us
warmly. Then we were shown to our rooms. We
succeeded in getting a basin of water to wash in,
but when I asked for a towel, the attendant smiled
at such worldliness, and said they used towels in the
village but not in the monastery. He informed me
that there were ten monks, who employed forty-five
workmen, some in the monastery and some on their
farms below. I can easily believe that there were
fifteen cats, for I saw eight. The servants set before
328 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
US a supper of brown bread, fried eggs, cheese and
wine. If these monks live high, it is not in their
diet. After supper we took a walk round the cliff,
and had a superb view of the Thessalian plain be-
low, with the winding Peneius, the solemn gigantic
masses of Meteora, and the lofty, snow-capped range
of Pindus beyond. The abbot and the servant were
communicative and not too high in the air to be
remote from Greek politics. On these eagle cliffs
nothing disturbed our rest, and Basil was not there
to wake me for a daybreak service.
After a frugal breakfast, it would not have
been possible to get anything else, we descended
the cliff for a short distance, then made a sharp
ascent, and skirted the edge of a deep ravine, where
we had a fine view of the picturesque fantastic buttes
which lay between us and the plain. Though we
had left our heaviest bag at the railroad station, we
still had too much to carry for a warm day; but the
view repaid every sacrifice. Reaching at length the
base of a cliff nearly two hundred feet high, upon
which is perched the Monastery of Saint Barlaam,
v/e shouted vigorously, until by and by a monk's
head appeared at a window above. An attendant
who looked small enough for a spider emerged from
a hole in the cliff and descended spider-like on a
long hanging ladder. He was not encumbered with
much clothing, nor was he a devotee of soap; but
when he learned that we were Americans, he was
cordiality itself. We had had one experience with
a ladder ; we wanted now to try the net. The young
man shouted to the monks above, and presently the
rope descended with a heavy net on the hook. The
THESSALY 329
young man spread the net upon the ground. Pro-
fessor Tarbell courageously offered to try the ex-
periment first. Accordingly, as directed, he sat
cross-legged in the net. The meshes were drawn
round him and fastened in the hook at the end
of the rope. "EroifjLa, "ready," shouted the Greek,
and the monks above bent to the windlass and
slowly lifted their catch. In spite of his con-
strained position, when he left the ground my friend
preserved a semblance of humanity; but when he
had gone a hundred and fifty feet, he seemed noth-
ing but a suspended meal -bag, and I snapped my
kodak at him with twinkling success. I appeal to
the reader, who may trace the rope and the bag in
the illustration, if this judgment is harsh.
It was my turn next. I felt something like a con-
demned criminal as I saw the rope and net descend.
We are creatures of association. As a boy, I used
to take in my hands the hook of a hoistway chain and
swing back and forth from a platform thirty or forty
feet from the ground; the exhilaration disguised the
danger. Thousands of people every year ascend the
Pilatus railroad or the cable road at Murren, or go
to the top of the Washington Monument in an ele-
vator, or sleep on a railway train at the rate of fifty
miles an hour. One soon becomes accustomed to
experiences which are made safe simply because
they are so dangerous. But to be bagged in a net,
and drawn up on the outside of a cliff by a rope and
windlass, rising as slowly and ignominiously as if
you were a bale of merchandise, had in it elements
of novelty, uncertainty, and unaccustomed danger.
The most trying perils are those which lack excite-
330 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ment. From experience I know that to join a
cavalry charge is one of the most dramatic and
exciting things in the world, and therefore requires
but a small amount of courage; but to be suspended
for four minutes in mid-air in a net affords unusual
opportunity for reflection. A consciousness of your
utter helplessness and the ridiculousness of your
position alternates with speculations on the strength
of the rope and the perfection of the windlass. I
found, however, my courage slowly rising with the
net. An advantage of ascending by net instead of
by ladder is that the beautiful scenery opens grad-
ually before you as you rise. A critical time is
when you reach the top and hang poised for a few
seconds opposite the door of the monastery. Two
monks put out their hands at each side, and shout-
ing "ETOLfia to those at the windlass, pull you in
and land you in a heap on the floor.
The Monastery of Saint Barlaam takes its name
either from the saint of the fourteenth century or
some hermit named after him. We had but time for
a rapid view of the church. Tozer speaks enthusi-
astically of the Byzantine frescos and of the artistic
grouping of one of the representations of the Virgin.
Think of the sanctity of a monastery which no
woman has ever entered ! I can imagine what an
exorcism, not of evil spirits, but of evil matter the
dirt of centuries a few women from Broek might
effect with their mops and brooms. We found but
six monks and ten servants. All supplies had to be
drawn up by the rope, for which there is a separate
hoistway. The monastery bell was cracked. Con-
sidering the position of the church, one could not
THESSALY 331
expect a very large number of church-goers, even if
the bell had been sound. I saw here for the first
time the semantron. This is a large plank suspended
in the air and struck with a piece of iron. It is
used in Lent instead of the bell. Its use is ex-
tremely ancient, and in Byzantine churches and
monasteries long preceded the use of the bell.
We had tested the strength of the rope, the wind-
lass and the muscle of the monks. There was but
one critical moment in the descent. Into that
moment seemed to be condensed half the peril of
the adventure. The net was spread on the floor
near the hoistway and gathered up over my head
and fastened in the hook, as before. Then there
was a half turn at the windlass and I was pushed
out from the landing. I felt the net settle and its
cords become taut. It was literally a moment of
suspense. My companions taunted me with the
uncertainty of my position and wished they could
photograph my expression. Fortunately, I had left
my kodak below. The single moment was longer
than the rest of the four minutes, which were com-
paratively agreeable. There was no need of dis-
trusting the net. It was strong and big enough to
hold two people. The monks do not like to haul up
two men at once, but it is easier to let them down,
and Professor Tarbell and Mr. Roddy descended
together. Just how they managed to braid their
legs and arms I do not know, but they brought
them all down with them and were safely disen-
tangled at the bottom.
Wordsworth not inaptly called these monks fishers
of men. Insulated in their lofty solitudes, they
332 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
illustrated a strange conception of religion and life
as remote from that of Homeric times or from the
religion which built the Parthenon as it is from
apostolic Christianity or the advanced spirit of our
own age.
VII
ISLANDS OF THE ^GEAN
EUBCEA
I
AN INTERNATIONAL FUNERAL
I WAS sitting in my room in Athens, reading a
Greek newspaper with the social desperation of a
man who two days before had said good-bye for the
winter to his wife and children. A light knock at the
door interrupted this inconsequential reading. It is
a question for critics whether Beethoven did or did
not mean, in his famous introduction to the Fifth
Symphony, to describe ** Fate knocking at the door."
The rap of Fate does not always come with unvarying
rhythm and authority. Fate is not always stern, cold
or cruel, but may be gently insistent and kindly in-
evitable. The sternest events in life often come to
us through the mildest announcements. How many
times had I heard just such a low knock at my
door at home, with its summons to sympathy and
ministration ! I had travelled more than once five
hundred miles to answer it. I did not expect to hear
it in Greece or imagine that it would mean a journey
almost as long. When I had thought of going to
Euboea, it was to see the supposed tomb of Aristotle
and the theatre of Eretria. I did not think of going
to a new-made grave.
More than fifty years ago a French gentleman of
fortune. Baron Mimont, bought a large estate in the
336 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
northern part of Eubcea. He counted it part of his
pleasure in life to spend some months there every
year. He had done much to develop and beautify it.
It had become another home to him, hardly second
in his affections to his beloved France. He was sud-
denly overtaken by sickness, and his two sons were
summoned from Paris. They came as fast as train
and steamer and one day of quarantine would per-
mit, but the death angel moved faster, and when
they reached Athens they received tidings of their
father's death. It was a friendly guide conduct-
ing these two gentlemen who had knocked at my
door. They explained that their father was a devout
French Protestant; he had wished to be buried in
his beloved Eubcea. There was not a Protestant
minister on the island ; would I, an American, go
with them and conduct the service? In such an hour
language, distance, nationality, all give way to frater-
nity. These gentlemen immediately won my interest,
respect and brotherly sympathy. Their request
meant a round trip by water of over four hundred
miles, two possible fits of seasickness, both of
which were realized, the absence of three and a
half days from Athens, and the interruption of regu-
lar work. But it did not take me three minutes to
answer '' Yes."
It was then three o'clock. It was arranged that
Messieurs Mimont should call two hours later and
we should drive to the Piraeus together. I packed
my bag, wrote a few cards postponing engagements,
called on Dr. Manatt, the United States Consul,
who held all Americans in Athens in his fraternal
and patriotic keeping, and at half-past five was in
ISLANDS OF THE ^GEAN 337
the carriage on my way to the Piraeus, a five-mile
drive from Athens. There we were joined by a cap-
tain of the French army attached to the Legation at
Athens, who in the unavoidable absence of the Minis-
ter represented the French Republic.
There was premonitory mischief in the fresh breeze.
It soon became fairly wicked in its sport with the sea,
until it had aroused that sensitive element into ungov-
ernable fury. The waves rioted in the Saronic Gulf.
It was a relief to get into the strait the next day,
where the wind had little scope for its exercise.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when, after
stopping at Karystos, Alivari, and Chalcis, we reached
the village of Aidipsos in the northern part of the
island. Seven saddle horses (three for attendants)
and a wagon for the luggage awaited us. We
mounted and rode for half an hour to a point where
the roads were smooth enough for carriages. From
the attendants we learned the particulars of the death
of Baron Mimont. An hour later we reached the
chateau in Xerochori. A few soldiers were in the
yard. In the house were the demarch, the chief of
police, various local officials, and the village priest.
On the death of Baron Mimont the morning before,
the safe had been sealed and various official pre-
cautions taken for the security of property. There
was an exchange of formalities and the reading of
documents to discharge the town from responsibility.
Then the officials shook hands with us all and bowed
themselves out.
Baron Mimont's extensive property of I know not
how many thousands of acres, yields large returns
of grapes, olives, grain, tobacco and other crops.
338 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
To work it a large force of Greek laborers was nec-
essary. So there had grown up on the estate two
little villages, St. Jean and St. Theodore, with forty-
five families housed in stone cottages, and a small
Greek church whose priest was also teacher. Many
of these families had been reared on the place and
looked to Monsieur Mimont as their friend and pro-
tector as well as employer. To them the death of
their venerable patron was a personal bereavement.
It was therefore arranged to have one service in the
death-chamber in the homestead for the family and
near friends, and one at the grave to which all might
come.
I have held funeral services under circumstances
both peculiar and tragic, but this one lay far out of
the range of all previous experience. The sons had
been trained to English from infancy, but were the
only ones present who understood that tongue. The
housekeeper, the intendant and some of the village
officials understood French. The priest and his flock
knew only Greek. The situation was certainly pecu-
liar: the funeral of a French Protestant in a Greek
community, on Greek soil, conducted by an American.
I went to the service with a French Bible, an English
Bible, and the New Testament in the old Greek.
The service in the upper room was simple. The
two brothers, the only survivors in the family, the
attach^ oi the French Legation in brilliant uniform,
the gendarme also in full uniform, the village priest,
the faithful maid, the mayor of Xerochori and a few
others were in the chamber. A selection from the
Psalms in English was followed by a selection from the
New Testament in French, and a prayer in English.
ISLANDS OF THE yEGEAN 339
The casket was then carried out and the funeral
procession formed. Two Greeks bearing Hghted
candles led the way, the candles burning pale in the
brilliant sun. The gendarme followed, bearing a
cushion on which was a symbol of authority; four
soldiers marched behind him; and four Greeks
dressed in their native costume the short white
skirt, ox fiistanella bore the casket. The two chief
mourners followed ; and then the French captain and
myself. Behind us were the Greek priest, the de-
march, and a long procession of men, women and
children from the villages. There was no music,
no cadence step, and no wailing, save the sobs of
the faithful housekeeper. I had seen Greek funerals
before, and the sight from the standpoint of spectator
would not have seemed strange ; but to be moving
in the procession to conduct the service was an un-
usual and memorable experience.
Monsieur Mimont was a lover of trees. He had
planted many of varied hue and habit with his own
hands, trees not found elsewhere on the island. In
a beautiful grove, at the end of a gentle slope, not far
from the calm waters of the bay, he had chosen the
place for his grave. One could hardly dream of a
more beautiful spot. I shall never forget the lovely
panorama that lay before us as we slowly marched
down the knoll. In the foreground were plane-
trees, poplars, weeping-willows, fig-trees and olives,
some of bright green, some of dark green, and others
of yellow leafage, spreading over the wide slope
which gently descended to the calm blue bay. Here
were peace and beauty. Across the gulf was the
eternal grandeur of the mountains. There rose Par-
340 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
nassus eight thousand feet above the sea ; its peaks,
whitened with snow, loomed up amid a grand chorus
of dark hills. There were the snow-capped ridges of
Olympus, nearly ten thousand feet high. The deep
Bay of Volo opened at the north at the foot of
Pelion. Calm, beautiful, grand was the scene in this
soft air lighted by the brilliant sun and with a white
cortege of clouds in the blue sky.
The casket was lowered to its resting-place. The
crowd became hushed as I read a few passages in
English from the New Testament followed by the
Twenty Third Psalm in French. I could not bear the
thought that these Greeks should be left out of my
ministration and listen to a service which was wholly
unintelligible ; so I had risen at four o'clock in the
morning and had written out and committed a brief
and simple address in modern Greek, which connected
some selections from the Greek New Testament:
" God is good, and we are all his children. Saint
Paul, when he spoke upon the Areopagus, said, * God
hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth.'
To-day there are representatives here of three na-
tions. We are Greeks, French and American; but
we are all brothers." (There were nods of assent.)
" We speak three languages Greek, French, Eng-
lish; but there is only one language of the heart.
The language of the heart is the language of love;
and Saint Paul has said, * Though I speak with the
tongues of men and of angels, and have not love,
I am become as sounding brass and tinkling cym-
bal.' " Selections in Greek from the rest of that
beautiful chapter, the Thirteenth of First Corinthians,
followed. Returning thanks to the friends and the
ISLANDS OF THE .EGEAN 34 1
faithful servant, I concluded my part of the service
with the Lord's Prayer in Greek.
The sweet-faced priest then swung his censer over
the grave, and recited a few passages from the Greek
service for the dead, another priest at the other end
of the grave gave the responses, and the people
joined in the benedictions. It was a brief service,
but cheerful and triumphant in its tone. As we
moved away from the grave slowly but without for-
mality, I took the arm of the lovable priest and asked
him in Greek if he understood what I had read.
Md\i<TTa (" certainly.") Then opening his liturgy
he showed me the Lord's Prayer in the same Greek,
turned a few pages to the exquisite Corinthian chap-
ter, and putting his finger on the closing verse
And now abideth faith, hope, love, but the greatest
of these is love,' said, 'Upalov^ oypalov, " Beautiful,
beautiful."
Then I felt that the barrier of language had indeed
been broken down and that priest and people had
felt with me the ties of brotherhood and human
sympathy which bound us all together. It was sig-
nificant that the three nations there represented,
Greece, France, and America, had all stood for
liberty, equality , fraternity . And it was deeply inter-
esting that the great apostle in his famous chapter
to the Greeks of Corinth and in his address to the
Athenians on the Areopagus had furnished in the
Greek tongue a bond of sentiment and union which
made us feel at that grave that God had made of
one blood all the nations of the earth, and that hope
and faith, and above all love, are the supreme things
in the world.
II
ERETRIA
My second visit to Eubcea was made some months
later, on the " Inselreise " with Dr. Dorpfeld.
Eretria, which Hes on the west coast of Eubcea, has
a special interest for Americans because it was ex-
cavated a few years ago by the American School.
The site of the theatre had been determined before
by the depression in the earth which suggested the
auditorium, but the plan and architectural history
were first revealed by American spades.
The theatre at Eretria has this peculiarity : it was
built on a plain instead of on a hill. The orchestra
had therefore to be sunk in the ground ; and it is pos-
sible that an amphitheatre of wooden seats was erected
for the spectators. Afterward, however, the people of
Eretria were not satisfied with a temporary wooden
auditorium and made an artificial hill. The labor
and expense of throwing up and moving the earth
must have been very great. The orchestra was
therefore put down as deep as possible. Why the
founders did not choose a hillside to start with, I do
not know, unless it be that some specially sacred
associations were connected with this place. The
theatre passed through three stages of architectural
development. There are two puzzling peculiarities.
One is the existence of an underground passage, big
enough for a man to pass through, from the orchestra
ISLANDS OF THE .EGEAN 343
to the dressing-room, that may have served for the
introduction of a ghost or for any mysterious disap-
pearance. The other feature is an arched passage-
way on the level of the orchestra, and leading by a
flight of stairs to a point behind the sketie.
From the theatre we ascended to what was once
the acropolis, guided by the remains of the walls by
which it was protected. You can follow the ruined
wall, strengthened here and there by towers, down
the hill and into the bay, running out to a little
island and enclosing a portion of the harbor. It is
possible that these walls existed before the Persian
War, 490 B. C. ; but they did not prevent the Per-
sians from taking and sacking the town. From the
acropolis we had a fine view of the mountains of
Euboea.
It was not far from Eretria that Dr. Waldstein dis-
covered, in 1 891, what was somewhat prematurely
heralded by the press as the tomb of Aristotle or
some member of his family. The tradition is, how-
ever, that the philosopher was buried at Chalcis, and
not at Eretria.
THE CYCLADES
If you look at the map of Greece^ you will see
that the Attic peninsula and the island of Eubcea
lie parallel to one another, and that each has a
string of islands dangling from its southern extremity.
Originally, no doubt, they all belonged to the con-
tinent. A few islands at the end of each string serve
to join them in a loop or chain. They form a sort
of geographic federation. Their old Greek name has
clung to them, and nothing better could be found.
JEg'ma. is not one of the Cyclades, but it was on a
trip through the Greek archipelago extending to Asia
Minor that I first set foot on this isle whose name,
mentioned in the Homeric catalogue and shared by
the gulf in which it lies, has come down to us through
the mists of antiquity. It has an area of only thirty-
two square miles, and about seven thousand inhabit-
ants. The one monument of its past that allured us
was the old temple of Athene. We dropped anchor,
disembarked, and climbed by a rough pathway along
the edge of a grain field and over stony debris to the
site of this temple, which is one of the oldest and best
preserved examples of the Doric style. About twenty
of the columns are standing. The plan is easily traced,
and its early origin is seen in the simple form of the
capital. The floor was covered with cement, and
traces of paint are clearly seen on it. The vigorous
and animated sculptures which adorned the pediment,
ISLANDS OF THE .EGEAN 345
representing combats between Trojans and ^Eginetan
heroes, are now in the Glyptothek at Munich, still
wearing that patent " ^ginetan smile."
The view from ^Egina is fine. Athens, its ancient
rival, lies across the gulf, and you can even see the
King's Garden. Pentelicus, Hymettus, the mountains
near Eleusis and Megara to the north, and the moun-
tains of the Peloponnesus to the west loom up. Salamis
lies to the north and Poros to the south.
Leaving the Saronic Gulf we sail into the Island-
studded sea. Under the shelter of Sunium lies
Makronisi, the ancient Helene, seven miles long and
three wide, an uninhabited pasturage, with no monu-
ments. Its only title to fame is the tradition that
Helen once landed there. On the other hand Ceos,
thirteen miles from Sunium, is rich in association
and interest. The merchant goes there for valonea,
figs or wine, the antiquarian to see its famous lion,
sculptured like that of Lucerne in the living rock,
and the literary pilgrim to see the birthplace of
Simonides, Bacchylides, and Prodicus. A fresh inter-
est is awakened in this isle by the welcome discovery
in Egypt of the manuscript containing the poems of
Bacchylides. It is as if the poet had strung his lyre
afresh and given to the world sweet harmonies of
which before only single notes or broken chords had
sounded in the ear. Andros, the most northerly of
the Cyclades, is really but a prolongation of Euboea,
from which it is separated by a narrow strait, and
Tenos is but an extension of Andros. Naxos is the
largest of the group, with twenty-two thousand inhab-
itants. West of it is Paros, renowned for quarries
from whose beautiful marble were summoned immor-
346 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
tal works of art. There are twenty-five islands of the
^gean belonging to Greece, some of them barren
and uninhabited, others fruitful and populous. Geo-
graphically the centre of the group is Syros or Syra,
with its spacious harbor round which is built pros-
perous Hermopolis. While other islands are living
on their antiquity, Syra is one of the most active and
thriving ports in Greece.
But on this island trip we were not looking for the
largest jewels on the chain. We were seeking the
real gem of the Cyclades. It is an island so small
that on a Baedeker map it is only large enough to be
visible. It has no commerce and literally no popula-
tion. Few make pilgrimages to this island to-day;
but what throngs came here once to worship ! And
what money, time, labor and skill were needed to
rear the temples, halls and treasure-houses, and to
chisel the statues which glorified Delos, the holy
island of Greece ! The entire island was a shrine
hallowed as the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis.
Here the worship of Apollo was observed with great
fervor, not as a local cult, but as the chief shrine
of thousands of Ionian worshippers. Nowhere save at
Olympia have I been so impressed with the number of
buildings devoted to the service of the gods. Here
was the great temple of Apollo, the famous Horn
Altar to the same god, the Hall of the Bulls, the
temple of Leto, the temple of Artemis, and one
devoted to the worship of Egyptian divinities. An
imposing colonnade surrounded the agora, and among
the host of statues was the great one dedicated to
Apollo, whose colossal base still stands bearing a
legible inscription : " From the same stone am I and
ISLANDS OF THE yEGEAN 347
the base," meaning probably that base and statue
were both made of Naxos marble. The statue, which
was one of the oldest works of Greek sculpture, dating
back to the sixth century before Christ, exists only in
scattered fragments, which it is not likely that any
resurrection of art will summon together. The im-
mense block on which it stood preserves its integrity
and bears the imprint of the colossal foot.
To the French School at Athens, under the intel-
ligent direction of Monsieur Homolle, belongs the
credit of conducting the fruitful excavations which
give us some idea of what Delos was at the height of
its fame and glory. Of the great temple of Apollo
only the foundation and some of the ornaments exist.
Near by are the foundations of an earlier one, probably
dedicated to the same divinity at a time when Delos
was under the political power of Athens. We thought
we discerned the skilful hand of the Attic workman in
the steps, the columns, and the ornaments of this build-
ing which may have been built about 450 or 430 be-
fore Christ. This temple is described by the French
as oriented toward the west; but Dorpfeld suggests
that a small hall which would form a pronaos was
probably overlooked. This would make it face to
the east, as most Greek temples do.
Two of the wonders of the world were on this
little island, one the Horn Altar to Apollo, and the
other the Hall of the Bulls. The latter was a build-
ing some 220 feet long and 29 feet wide, where the
animals to be sacrificed were brought. The capitals
of the Doric pilasters which supported the long hall
were adorned with beautifully cut bulls' heads, from
which the building takes its modern name. The
348 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
foundations are well preserved, and near by were
some of the capitals and triglyphs of clean white
marble, seemingly as fresh and unstained as when
they were first cut.
It is unnecessary to ask whether the ancient Greek
was a church-goer. These beautiful temples were not
built for the passer-by alone. In the propylaea of the
holy precinct there is a threshold which has been
worn down in a remarkable way by the thousands of
reverent feet that entered the hallowed place.
The arrangement of the theatre, which is about as
large as that at Athens, can be well distinguished.
The ample auditorium is supported on each side by
great walls. A small canal, like that at Megalopolis,
bounds the orchestra. Before the proskeniony which
was of the same height as in other theatres, were
placed statues whose bases are preserved. The pre-
sence of these statues excludes the possibility of the
proskejtiofi having been used to support a stage, as
the statues would have been so high as to interfere
with the view of the spectators.^
Climbing the steps of the theatre, we reach above
the terraces the grotto of Apollo. A natural opening
in the rocks has been widened and roofed over with
heavy stones. The grotto is not deep and dark like
that at Delphi. It is only a few yards in depth, and
light comes in from an opening behind. This is pro-
bably the oldest site of the worship of Apollo on the
island. In front of it stands a circular marble base,
which may have borne a tripod.
1 For an interesting study of this theatre see Le Theatre de Delos
et la Scene du Theatre Grec, Bulletin de Correspondance Hellenique,
by Dr. Wilhelm Dorpfeld (1897), p. 562.
ISLANDS OF THE ^GEA 349
But more imposing than grotto or tripod, and ris-
ing behind them, is the summit of Mount Kynthos,
affording a commanding and delightful view of most
of the Cyclades. To the north lies Tenos, unwooded
and irregularly cut; to the northeast Mykonos, with
its high hills. Near at hand is a mere stretch of rock,
almost a bridge between Delos and Mykonos. Far
away to the northeast that faint blue cloud on the
horizon is Samos. To the south lie Naxos and Paros;
and further to the southwest, Siphnos and Seriphos.
To the west are Rhenea, or Great Delos, beyond it
Syra, and to the northwest Gyaros. By turning on
your heel you can see most of the links in this island
chain. The sea is blue and calm, and these islets are
as quiet as if they were brooding over the long history
of the past.
The ancient fertility of Delos and its luxuriant
growths are suggested in the only reference to the
isle which we find in the Odyssey. When Odysseus
is supplicating the aid of Nausicaa, he compares the
tall beautiful princess to the young palm he had seen
at Delos : " At Delos once, by Apollo's altar, some-
thing like you I noticed, a young palm-shoot spring-
ing up ; for thither too I came, and a great troop was
with me, upon a journey where I was to meet with
bitter trials. And just as when I looked on that I mar-
velled long within, since never before sprang such a
shoot from earth ; so, lady, I admire and marvel now
at you, and greatly fear to touch your knees." I did
not find the palm near the altar of Apollo, but I had
a surprise which was quite equal to that felt by
Odysseus. I shall never forget the display of color
which astounded me, when in search of a good place
350 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
for a swim, I walked to the south of the island.
Jumping over a stone wall, I landed in a field of
flowers which in abundance and brilliancy excelled
anything I have ever seen. I remember coming un-
expectedly upon a lovely park in the Black Hills
where Nature had wrought a similar miracle, but with
no such brilliancy of color as fairly dazzled the eye at
Delos. Poppies and anemones of glowing red were
massed with nameless yellows and purples in prodigal
profusion. If I could have towed this island into
Boston Harbor, thousands of people would have
gone to see this floral show; here in the Mgean
Sea only a few shepherds know of its existence. But
" Beauty is its own excuse for being." Such a sym-
phony in color tells of Nature's own delight in the
revolving panorama of existence; and in this won-
derful flower-bed there seemed to be the joy without
the tragedy.
We went to Delos to see what is left of some of the
wonders of the world. That night we sailed to Samos
to see another. Samos, like Crete, ought to be on the
map of Greece, but both are on the map of Turkey.
When we sailed into the harbor of the capital which,
like the modern town of Ithaca, is called Vathy, the
rain was descending as if celebrating the anniversary
of the flood. But instead of forty days it was content
to fall forty minutes. Then it slackened its zeal, and
permitted us to set our feet for the first time on
Turkish soil. Samos is famous for its wine ; and I
have a list of the Boston ladies who went back to the
ship with large bottles of it under their cloaks, and I
can furnish the name of the so-called temperance man
who used his Greek to negotiate the purchase. How-
ISLANDS OF THE .EGEAN 35 1
ever, we had come not to inspect the wine-works, but
the famous water-works which Herodotus describes.
A short trip round the other side of the island
gave us a view of the Asiatic shore with lofty Mykale,
the mountain monument of the Persian naval defeat,
and brought us to the old village of Tigarni. An
hour's walk, and we reached the hillside opening of
the famous aqueduct. Lighting candles we entered a
hole about four feet high and just large enough to
admit one person. Fifty feet farther it widened into
a capacious tunnel, some eight feet high and as many
broad, with a small channel on the side for the water.
Herodotus tells us that the excavation was made from
both ends, and that the workmen met in the middle.
The source of the water was at a high point on the
mountain, so that the tunnel penetrated for a great
distance into the mountain's heart. Just why this
vast subterranean aqueduct was made, when the
water might have been conducted on the outside of
the mountain, it is not easy to explain, except on
the supposition that it was for greater protection in
time of war and that the sources were carefully con-
cealed.
After an hour's walk from the tunnel we reached
the ruins of the great temple of Hera, one of the
largest ever built. Its breadth 'was equal to the
length of the Zeus temple at Olympia, 210 feet; its
exact length cannot be determined, because it has
not been sufficiently excavated. Only one vast Ionic
column is left to give some idea of the height of this
imposing building.
At night we reversed our course and anchored in
the morning at Mykonos, opposite Delos, where the
352 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
portable art treasures found in the excavations at the
latter place are kept. The town is pleasantly situated
on the hillside. The houses are white and surrounded
with courts and gardens. Stone walls run in all
directions over the slope. There are many indica-
tions of thrift. One seldom sees a cleaner, whiter-
looking Greek village. The streets wind picturesquely,
and a fine road runs up the hill into the country. We
walked into an old palace garden, where the grounds
are still well kept, though it is no longer used as a
palace. There is an archaeological hospital filled with
broken legs, hands, arms and heads, but with some
interesting fragments and well-preserved inscriptions.
It is melancholy to think of the havoc that time and
vandalism have made with the treasures of art ; but
an enthusiastic archaeologist can go into raptures over
a head or a foot as an anatomist can wax eloquent
over a single bone.
It was late in the afternoon when we rounded
Sunium and found the smoother water on the west
side of the Attic peninsula; but it was not too late to
have a view of the temple of Athene on this command-
ing headland. The Acropolis and the Parthenon were
shrouded in darkness as we sailed up to the Piraeus,
but we knew they were there.
VIII
TROY
23
TROY
MARCHING ON TROY
Circumstances over which I had no control pre-
vented me from being at the first siege of Troy;
circumstances within my control kindly permitted
me to be at the last. I did not, like Odysseus, make
all manner of excuses and use every artifice to avoid
going. I was too anxious to get there. I did not
go in a wooden horse, and it is yet impossible to
go all the way with an iron one. The vessel that
bore me is not numbered in the Homeric catalogue
of ships, and I am not named among the heroes. I
must, therefore, in this Post-Iliad catalogue my own
adventures.
Unlike Achilles, Ajax, Agamemnon, and Menelaus,
I started for Troy alone. The rendezvous of the
attacking party was not at Aulis, but on the acropolis
of Troy itself
I sailed away from Piraeus just before sunset, with
the sad consciousness that I was saying good-by to
the " violet-crowned " city which had been my home
for six months. The sunlight fell softly on Hymet-
tus and lingered fondly over the Acropolis, " with
long, reluctant, amorous delay." The sun and the
steamer were moving away from each other; the
Parthenon soon faded out of sight, and Athens was
gone.
356 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
When I set foot on Asia Minor, it was at Smyrna.
It was fitting to land there before going to Troy;
for, of the seven cities which disputed Homer's birth,
did not the weight of tradition favor Smyrna? Think
of a city tracing its importance back several hundred
years before Christ, and yet remaining to-day one of
the chief commercial cities of Asia Minor, living on
its trade, not on its traditions. It has been shattered
by earthquake and devastated by fire, but new cities
have repeatedly grown on the foundations of the
old, and few have a more beautiful site. It nes-
tles confidently on the plain by the seaside, but rises,
too, tier on tier, on the hill overlooking its sheltered
gulf. The notable buildings, which in ancient times
gave it celebrity, are gone; but archaeologists have
delved among the ruins. Of a population of two
hundred thousand, fully half are Greeks. Thus there
are almost as many Greeks at Smyrna as at Athens.
Athens has become European ; at Smyrna Orientalism
is still predominant. As you enter its great bazaars,
see camels lurching through the streets, and meet
Turks and Greeks in Oriental costume, you feel that
you are in a different zone of life and tradition.
The next day brought me to the Dardanelles. I
had the satisfaction of meeting here Messrs. Korte,
Prager, Strack, and Noach, four German archaeolog-
ical students, devoted friends of Dr. Dorpfeld, with
whom I had before shared the joys and hardships
of the Peloponnesian trip and the island excursion.
We organized a cavalcade to move on Troy.
We spent the night at the Dardanelles, and next
day crossed the famous strait, took horses and set out
for the plains of Troy. It was a ride of several hours,
TROY 357
much of it in full view of the Hellespont. We passed
caravans of camels, six sturdy oxen yoked together
ploughing the fertile fields, and a procession of sixty
Turks on horseback returning from a fair or fete.
Halting for a brief rest in a Turkish village, late in
the afternoon we galloped up to Hissarlik with as
much ardor as if we had come to save the day for the
Greeks. We were three thousand years too late; the
Wooden Horse had got there ahead of us.
We were cordially received at Schliemannville, as
the little group of huts which sheltered Dr. Dorpfeld
and his associates was called. Though these huts had
not the grandeur of the palace of Priam, they prob-
ably afforded much better accommodations than the
Greeks had on the plain below. If we did not find
Agamemnon or Menelaus, Priam, or Paris, Odysseus
or ^neas, we found Dr. Dorpfeld, Dr. Wolters, Mr.
Wilberg, and a few others, helping to direct the large
force of men employed in the excavations. Not by
dart, spear, sword or arrow was the modern siege
conducted, but by pick and shovel ; and the wheeled
chariots were not those of Achilles or Diomedes, but
hand-cars which were carrying off the debris.
II
THE MODERN SIEGE
It was Schliemann who began the modern siege
of Troy. How he was laughed at for making the
attempt ! As if there were anything in Homer but
pure fiction! His faith, enthusiasm and persever-
ance were based on a settled consciousness of
historic elements in Homer. In spite of the wonder-
358 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
ful imaginative drapery in which the Homeric story
was invested, Schhemann could feel the force and
pressure of the reality beneath. Perhaps if he had
been more critical and less trustful, he would not
have felt it; but he believed that a real Troy, just as
a real Greece, was the foundation of the story of the
Iliad. So, in his ardent faith he went to the spot
where tradition said that Troy used to be. With
indomitable perseverance, Schliemann began with his
spade to uncover the city. His discoveries were at
first ridiculed. Then people began to smile another
way when he brought forth the treasures he had un-
earthed, the relics of a prehistoric age. Afterward,
when he had published his two books on Troy, the great
value of his find was recognized by archaeologists ;
but it was said, and said rightly, that the civilization
of the Troy he had found did not correspond with the
Troy described in Homer. Schliemann had gone
further back into the past than he had known. He
had dug down clear below the foundation of the
Homeric Troy into still older strata.
The excavations at Tiryns and Mycenae threw a
search-light upon the Homeric age. If the relation
of the Epic with the Mycenaean age cannot be estab-
lished in all points, we can at least see the identit}'
of the outline and the historic connection. The
material of the Mycenaean age thus furnished crite-
ria with which to determine the relative age of the
discoveries at Troy. We were compelled to face the
fact that the civilization indicated by the vases, orna-
ments and pottery which were found in the second
city must have been centuries older than that of the
Mycenaean age.
TROY 359
In 1890 Dr. Schliemann returned to Troy with Dr.
Dorpfeld and renewed excavations. Instead of the
seven cities, first assumed by SchHemann, nine were
distinguished. In the sixth city, counting from the
bottom, were found Mycenaean masonry and pottery.
Only a small portion of the sixth stratum was uncov-
ered ; part of it had been removed in digging to the
lowest stratum, but still more was destroyed by the
Roman Ilium, the ninth city, whose foundations had
been set far down in the sixth city below. The death
of Dr. Schliemann put a stop to excavations, on the
very threshold of new discovery. Mrs. Schliemann
was devoted to her husband during his life. She had
shared his faith, his labors, and his rewards. She
alone was present with him when they uncovered the
Great Treasure in the second city of Troy. What
better way to perpetuate his memory than to com-
plete his work at Troy? Through her generosity,
supplemented by that of the German Government,
the excavations were renewed under the direction ot
Dr. Dorpfeld in the spring of 1893. It was in June
of that year that I joined Dr. Dorpfeld at Hissarlik.
Schliemann had dug deeply ; the new task was to
dig widely, to uncover laterally the stratum of the
sixth city, and see how far this outcropping of Myce-
naean masonry would lead. The work had already
been in progress for two weeks when I arrived on
the ground, and was able to see it carried to most
important and fascinating results.
My first impression at Hissarlik was that of utter
bewilderment. Though used by this time to the
general aspect of excavations, I had never seen any
36o THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
in which the strata seemed at first so hopelessly
mixed. The problem at Olympia was comparatively
simple ; all the buildings were essentially on the same
level. But here at Troy city after city had been built
on different levels, the foundation stones of one com-
mingling with the walls below. They seemed to be
dovetailed in inextricable confusion. No temples,
colonnades or theatres, as at Delos, no columns, capi-
tals, triglyphs or statues, save in the Graeco-Roman
city on the top, gave any indication of former beauty
and glory. Hissarlik seemed but a curious pile of
stones, dust and ashes, and, had I been alone, half a
day would have sated my curiosity, and the puzzle
would have been unsolved. After four days of study
under Dr. Dorpfeld's guidance, with fresh daily reve-
lations by industrious spades, the confusion became
less confounded, the different strata became more
familiar, and what seemed to be unmistakably the
Homeric city gradually took shape and definition.
The general situation of Hissarhk furnishes topo-
graphically the essential conditions suggested by the
Iliad. It is not, like Tiryns, an island in the plain ;
it is rather the end of a long ridge projected upon
the plain and capable of being strongly fortified.
In the broad valley below we may trace the channel
of two rivers, one to the right and another to the
left. The island of Tenedos lies out in the sea.
Rivers, like politicians, change their course. I have
seen the Upper Missouri make a new channel in a
few weeks. It is not surprising, then, that the Sca-
mander and its tributary the Simois should have left
their ancient beds. How great a part the river plays
in the story of the Iliad is seen in the twenty-first
TROY 361
book, when Achilles does battle not only with the
Trojans at the Scamander, but with the river itself.
Objection was made to Hissarlik as the site of Troy
because the Scamander is not where one might expect
it to be. But the old river-bed is there, and there
are signs of the old ford and of the point where the
Simois flowed into it, corresponding closely with
the description of Homer. When the Greeks fight,
the battlefield is between the river and the sea, so
that when the Trojans are driven back they must
pass through the ford at a certain place or else be
cut off by the river behind them. The plain stretch-
ing from Hissarlik to the sea, with the ancient river-
bed, furnishes just such conditions.
Desirous as I was of getting a good general idea
of the whole topography of the Trojan plain and
surrounding hills, I was glad that it was possible to
make a trip to Bounarbashi and back. Our party
was made up of Dr. Dorpfeld, Dr. Wolters, a quartet
of German students, the Turkish representative at
the excavations, a Turkish cavalryman, an attendant
with packhorse, and the writer. It may not have
been Homeric to go on horseback ; but there were
no chariots that could possibly go where we were
going. We set out in the fresh cool morning; the
wind was blowing over the bending grain, which
bowed and swayed on the plain just as it does in
the rhythmic lines of the epic. In less than an hour
from Hissarlik we reached Hanai-Tepeh, an artifi-
cial mound, explored by Mr. Frank Calvert and Dr.
Schliemann in 1878-79. Mr. Calvert found here the
remains of numerous skeletons which had been care-
fully interred. Not far from this place, however, we
362 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
passed the site of a great crematory, where the beds
of ashes were five and six feet deep, with occasional
protruding skulls and bones. Here the Trojans may
have burnt their dead.
Our next point was Eski-Hissarlik on the Scaman-
der opposite Bounarbashi. It is clear that the divine
river which had such a mighty tussle with Achilles,
and but for the interference of Hephaestus would
have engulfed not only the vulnerable heel of his
swift foot but the rest of his divinely descended body,
is still a formidable stream when its pride is swollen.
It would easily have been able to carry out its threat
of covering the Grecian hero with such a pile of sand
that no one not even Schliemann would have
known where to find his body. The river can only
be crossed at certain fords, and when running high
only by boat. As we forded it .the water was up to
the breasts of our horses. The fine view which
rewarded us from Eski-Hissarlik was repeated from
the height of Bounarbashi. It was this place which
Lechevalier, who visited it in 1785-86, assumed to be
the site of the old acropolis of Troy. Influenced
doubtless by the commanding character of the height
and its great value from a military standpoint, von
Moltke and others accepted this view. This place
with the hill opposite would make an almost impreg-
nable position, but its site does not correspond with
that of the city described in Homer. It is too far
from the sea, nearly twelve miles, there is no
plain for the battlefield, and the river flows directly
under the city.
From the summit of Ujek-Tepeh the whole Trojan
plain and the ^gean spread out like a map. We
TROY 363
could see how broad the plain of Troy is, and what
a magnificent theatre the poet had in rendering the
battle scenes of the Iliad. " Fair-flowing," " divine,"
"deep-flowing, silver-eddying," Scamander winds be-
low. The broad plain ranges to the north, bound by the
blue ribbon of the Hellespont. Mount Ida, capped
with clouds, rises grandly in the southeast ; while to the
south in the ^gean is the island of Lesbos, nestling
under the chin of the Troad. Westward and close
to the shore is Tenedos, which, because it is in the
beginning of the Iliad instead of at the end, every
schoolboy knows was ruled with might by the god of
the silver bow. It is a long low island with a high
headland at the north.
Beyond the island of Imbros to the northwest is
the bold rugged outline of Samothrace, with its lofty
mountain rising 5,240 feet above the sea. It was here
that Poseidon, " the mighty Earth-shaker, held no
blind watch, but sat and marvelled on the war and
strife, high on the topmost crest of wooded Samo-
thrace ; for thence all Ida was plain to see, and plain
to see were the city of Priam and the ships of the
Achaians." It was no blind Homer who wrote that
passage, and he did not invent his map. Schliemann
made excavations on Ujek-Tepeh, but found nothing
of importance.
We lunched at a village below Bounarbashi. The
drum-beat in the village announced a Turkish wed-
ding, but it was solemn enough for a funeral. Cross-
ing the Scamander again at another ford, and later a
stout arm of the same stream, we reached Schliemann-
ville by evening, feeling more confidence than ever in
the tradition that Hissarlik was the site of the Homeric
364 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
Troy. To accept that tradition is to settle the ques-
tion laterally, but not vertically. Dickens wrote a
tale of two cities ; Dorpfeld was deciphering a tale
of nine. Which of them was the Homeric Troy?
It is an interesting sight to see forty or fifty men
working hard with spades, picks, shovels and barrows,
not for gold and silver or precious stones, though
not a little gold has been found at Troy, but sim-
ply in mining the buried ore of history. The hill
has been cut and channelled in every direction. The
only inhabitants, except the birds that light here, are
lizards, worms and crickets. Two Turkish soldiers,
armed with breech loading rifles, guard the excava-
tions. Most of the workmen are Greeks, dressed in
Turkish blouse and trousers. Without the slightest
sentiment about Helen they are repeating the victory
of their fathers in recapturing .the city. The old
Greeks took one Ilios ; the modern Greeks are tak-
ing nine. You hear the clank of shovels and of
picks against the stone. These men are turning
stones into bread. They get two francs a day for
about eleven hours' work. They begin at five in
the morning and quit at seven at night; but they
have a rest at eight o'clock, and three hours in the
afternoon in the heat of the day. As fast as it is
loosened the debris is carried off in wheelbarrows
and hand-cars and dumped on the plain. As it is
more interesting to see a fire burning than to see
the charred remains after it is over, so in one sense
it is more fascinating to see the work of excavation
going on, and to take a hand now and then with the
shovel, than to see only the remains of former dig-
ging. At Troy we had the stimulus which results
may give to expectation.
TROY 365
** Who knows," I said to Dr. Dorpfeld one morning
as we were sitting at breakfast, " but we may find
to-day the temple to which Helen went to bear her
offerings to Athene." Up to that time no building
laid bare showed any traces of a column, though foun-
dations of niegara which might have been palaces or
temples had been found. It was singular that that
very morning, on the stratum of the Mycenaean or sixth
city, should have been found the remains of a column
in place, and on the other side of the cut the marks
where other columns had stood. So that it was pos-
sible by the next day, in spite of all that had been
unfortunately cut away in previous excavations, to
describe the plan of a large niegaron which was
either a palace or a temple.
In his early excavations Schliemann, as already
said, distinguished the successive strata of seven differ-
ent cities, and regarded the third city, the '* Burnt
City," as the Homeric Ilios. The latest examina-
tions show that not only are there nine strata of as
many cities on the hill of Hissarlik, but that one of
these has been rebuilt thrice on the original levels,
so that very likely a dozen different cities have stood
on that hill. This in itself proves that from the
remotest time successive settlements existed on this
spot. That it is the same site as the Roman Ilium
or Novum Ilium, which was supposed to rest on the
Homeric Ilios, can hardly be doubted. The nine
successive strata may be distinguished, beginning at
the bottom, as follows :
I. A primitive settlement built of small stones and
clay.
II. Primitive fortress ; large brick buildings, much
366 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
monochrome pottery, and objects of bronze, silver
and gold found by Schliemann. This city was de-
stroyed several times.
III., IV., V. Three successive village settlements
built on the ruins of the second city, the houses of
small stones and sun dried brick, the villages some-
times with fortified walls.
VI. A walled city with fortress and towers of the
Mycenaean age, great buildings of dressed stone, and
Mycenaean and local pottery.
VII., VIII. Hellenic village settlements on the
ruins of the sixth city.
IX. A Graeco-Roman city, with temple of Athene,
Boule and marble buildings.
The characteristics of these cities are determined
not merely from their masonry, but from the pottery
and implements found in them. In the first prehis-
toric city the pottery was of primitive character, and
the idols were rude and barbaric.
In the second city, the gold and silver objects and
monochrome pottery were also very ancient. The
doorways, the fortress, the broad paved street, and the
fact that this city met the fate ascribed to Troy and was
consumed in a terrible conflagration, all favored Schlie-
mann's conclusion. But, as already said, the second
city was too old for the Homeric Troy in the charac-
ter of its civilization. Furthermore, it was a city of
small extent, and the hill at that level was too low
for the Trojan acropolis.
The brilliant result of the excavations of 1893 is
the essential identification, in a large way at least, of
the sixth city with the Mycenaean period, and the
finding of walls, towers, gateways, palaces and pos-
TROY 367
sibly a temple which identify it at once with the
Homeric age. This does not discount any of the
great results of Schliemann's work. By digging
deep he revealed to us a civilization far more prim-
itive than the Homeric ; while Dorpfeld, by broaden-
ing out the excavations of the sixth city, has uncovered
the Homeric city, and given us an acropolis of ample
extent, with buildings even greater in size than those
of Tiryns and Mycenae. The area of this sixth city was
equal to that of Tiryns, and but little smaller than
that of Athens. " Without any hesitation," says
Dr. Dorpfeld, " we may now draw on the ruins of the
sixth city of Troy when we have to describe the
buildings and culture of the age which Homer cele-
brates." ^ As Dr. Dorpfeld shows in the same work,
the descriptions, and very often the special language,
of Homer exactly fit the houses of Troy, the circuit
wall and its towers.
The infinite pains, skill and labor by which these
superimposed cities at Troy were distinguished can
hardly be conceived by those who have not been there.
The original strata were not all perfectly level, and ran
up and down so that the walls crossed each other.
To distinguish the Mycenaean from the Roman walls
let down into the same level is not difficult for the
expert. Many of the Roman blocks, of which there
were seventeen layers, were marked with letters, per-
haps the stone mark of the contractor.
The identification of the Mycenaean period fur-
nishes us a new basis for estimating the age of the sixth
city and those below it. Putting the Roman Ilium
1 Introduction to Mycenaean Age, by Tsountas and Manatt
Boston, 1897.
368 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
at the beginning of the Christian era, we may date
the sixth city anywhere from one thousand to fifteen
hundred years before Christ; the fifth, fourth, and
third cities may range from 1500 to 2000 B. c. ; the
second, from 2000 to 2500 B. C. ; and the third, from
2500 to 3000 B. C. But these are only relative and
approximate dates; the primitive city might easily
be a thousand years older.
I have spoken of the different layers of history as
they were suggested on the Acropolis of Athens.
But nowhere can one pass so rapidly from one age
to another by slight changes of level as at Troy.
As we mounted and descended through the different
strata it seemed as if we were going up and down
the ladders of time. How young seemed the Hellenic
city, with its beautiful marble capitals and columns,
compared with the primitive villages built on the
basic rock below ! One day, as we were digging in
the third or fourth city, we came on several large jars
or pitJioi containing about a bushel of peas. They
had been there probably four thousand years, and
still preserved their form without their vitality. Some
of these jars found at different levels were five feet
or more in height. They were set in the ground, as
shown in the illustration, and served to hold grain or
wine. But in some cases the mice had gnawed
through and devoured their contents.
No bricks were found in the Mycensean period, and
the dressed stones are peculiar to Troy. I have lying
before me, however, a piece of brick which came out
of the second city. It was originally sun-dried, but
it has passed through a terrible fire. The outer part,
where it was in close contact with wood, has been
TROY 369
melted till it is nothing but a cinder. What was the
inner part still retains the semblance of clay, and is
friable. Running through it you can see the marks
and the mould of the straw laid into it; for it tells
of a time when bricks were not made without straw.
After the Boston fire one could find many evidences
of the terrible heat, but no piece of brick just like
this. When this brick was burned neither Chicago
nor Boston was known or thought of; the Pilgrims had
not landed at Plymouth ; the United States was a far-
off event; Columbus had not set sail for the new
world; the art of printing was unknown; neither
England nor France had a national existence ;
Mahomet was not born; Paris had not been made
the seat of the Prankish monarchy; Italy had not
been conquered by Theodoric ; Jesus had not come,
and the marvellous results of his life were undreamed
of; Julius Caesar, Pompey and Cicero, Darius, Plato,
Socrates, Sophocles and iEschylus were unborn. I
have a few fragments of clear charcoal made from
the beams set in the wall. It was just where these
beams were that the fire raged hottest and the ad-
jacent brick was almost melted. It seems remark-
able that the delicate piece of straw laid in this brick
should have imprinted on the clay the lines of the
fibre of which it was composed. Think of a wisp of
straw leaving its signature on a piece of brick made
four thousand years ago ! In a burnt wall at Troy,
where a beam had lain, a knot in the wood was
stamped in the clay.
The full results of the final excavations of Troy,
which I shall always consider it a rare event in my life
to have witnessed, will not be known, perhaps, until
24
370 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
the sources and relations of its culture have been
more fully established. While holding that the sixth
city of Troy is contemporaneous with Tiryns and
Mycenae, and noting the influence of Mycenaean cul-
ture as seen in the vases (undoubtedly imported) of
that period, Dr. Dorpfeld recognizes the difference
between the culture of Troy and Mycenae. The
decoration of the former is distinctly simpler than
that of the Argive palaces. It was left to Dr. A.
Korte of Bonn to show that the predominant culture
at Troy was Phrygian with points of contact with
the Mycenaean.
When I went to Troy my chief fear was that some
of the poetry of the Iliad might vanish in the ruins
of Hissarlik. There are scenes which are beautiful
in the glow of a sunset which are not beautiful in the
glare of noon. I was not sure that the Homeric Ilios
could stand so much publicity. And if my concep-
tion of it had been confined to that of the second
city, I should have felt that the fact fell too far
below the poem. But the uncovering of the Myce-
naean city, with its great walls, towers and battlements,
strengthened the sense of reality. It might have
been on just such a tower that Helen stood looking
over the plain of Troy when she won from the
Trojan elders the greatest compliment ever paid to
the beauty of a woman. But in Troy, as in Ithaca,
site and scene are but the warp and woof of which
the immortal picture is woven. We need not press
the correspondence too far between fact and fancy.
Over mountains, islands, sea and plain the poet has
spread his canvas, and Hke a beautiful sunset in the
TROY 371
JEgean has suffused the scene with the bright glow
of his imagination. And when the last stone of
Troy shall have crumbled into dust the unfading
pictures of the immortal epic will remain. With
Alpheus of Mytelene we can sin.g:
^AvSpofxdx^s TL Bpijvou aKovofxev, elaeTi Tpoirjp
dcpKOfj.eB' cK ^ddpcop naaav epenroixemjv
Koi fxodov Aiuureiov, vjro (TTe<pdv]j re irdXrjos
k8tov e^ tmriov "EKTopa avpofievop,
Maiovidem fita Movcrav, ov ov fiia narpls alodou
Koa-fielrai, yairjs d' dfi(f)0Tepr}s Kkifiara.
Still sad Andromache's low wail we hear ;
Still see all Troy from her foundations fall :
The might of Ajax, lifeless Hector bound
And ruthless dragged beneath the city's wall
This, through the muse of Homer, bard renowned,
Whose fame not one alone, but many shores revere.
INDEX
Abbess of Cephalonia, 50.
Academic Greek, 28.
Academos, grove of, 126.
Academy of Plato, 233, 255.
Acarnania, 64.
Achaians, 363.
Achilles, 319 ; home of, 325, 355, 361,
362.
Acoustics of Greek theatre, 142.
Acro-Corinth, 271, 272.
Acropolis, 1 01, 106, 116, 139, 154, 155,
251, 253, 258, 272, 352, 355; art
treasures of, 124 ; before Parthenon,
93, 94; Belvedere on, 128; bom-
bardment of, 95 ; bronzes, 120;
Byzantine chapel on, 125; circular
dances, 153; divinities of, 120, 121 ;
Dorpfeld on, 226 ; dweUing place,
118; fortress and sanctuary, 126;
grottoes of, 124, 125 ; Museum, 7,
10, 89, 91, 113, 120, 121, 225 ; not a
plateau, 119; occupation by Turks,
95 ; portico of, 107 ; sacred sites
on, 114 ; splendor of paganism, 201 ;
statues on, 118, 120; temples on,
117, 124; terra-cottas, 120.
Acropolis, daily of Athens, 163, 170,
229.
Acting in Greek theatre, 144.
Adeline, Jules, 214.
Adler, 291.
Admetus, 319.
Admiral Tryon, 78.
Advertisements, Greek, 230, 231.
iEgaleos, from Acropolis, 104.
iEgean Sea, 350, 363, 370.
.Egina, 104, 156, 271, 344, 345.
" iEginetan smile," 258, 345.
vEgis of Athene, 120.
^neas, 357.
Aenus, Mt, in Cephalonia, Z^-
i^Lolus, street of, 156, 170.
iEschines, 235.
iEschylus, 58, 142, 143, M9. 152, I53.
i54> 369-
^sculapius, sanctuary of, 272 ; street
of, 167.
iEsop's Fables, 235.
Aetos, 59, 62, 68.
" Against Timarchus," 235.
Agamemnon, 318, 355, 357; tomb of,
278 ; trees of, 300.
Age of stones used in building, 102.
Agogiats, 283, 307, 308.
Agora, 164, 167-177.
Aidipsos, 337.
Albanian costume, 159 ; mountains,
16, 27.
Alcestis, 319.
AlcinoUs, 9, 16, 32-37, 278.
Alexandria, 76.
Alivari, 337.
All Saints' Day, 29.
Allinson, Francis G., ix., 306.
Alpheius, 284-293.
Alpheus of Mytelene, 371.
Altar in Greek church, 216, 220; of
Zeus, 288, 292 ; to the Unknown
God, 127, 202.
Altis, 288, 290, 292.
Ambelakia, famous for dyeing and
spinning, 323.
374
INDEX
Ambrysus, 309.
American Archaeological School, 114
226, 227, 271, 279, 317; Legation
at Athens, 165.
" American School, The," 235.
Amphiaraus, 255, 256.
Amphictyony, 297.
Amphorae, 133.
Amvelonia, 285.
Anagnos, Michael, ix.
Anastosios the priest, 50.
" Ancient and Modern Greece," 7.
Andros, 254, 345.
Angel, Hon, ox, and eagle, 211.
" Animal Symbolism in Ecclesiastical
Architecture," 214.
Anthology, 136, 137, 232, 233.
Antigone, 139, 146, 153.
Apollo, grotto of, 124, 348; hymn to,
301-306, 313 ; neatherd, 319 ; shrine
to, 286, 346; statue of, 16S ; temple
of, 251, 297, 301, 346.
Apologists, early Christian, 204.
Apollo's altar, 349,
Apostle Paul. See Saint.
Apostles, symbols of, 211.
Aqueduct of Samos, 351.
Arachnaeon, Mount, 274.
Arachova, 308.
Aratus, 205.
Arcadia, 80, 271.
Arcadian kings, seat of, 283 ; moun-
tains and plains, 284, 285.
Arch of Hadrian, 127, 227.
Archaeological Cavalry, 282-287.
Archaeological hospital, 352.
Archaeologists, discoveries of on
Acropolis, 119, 120.
Archaeology, development of, 7 ;
interest of, 8, 24; study of in
Greece, 6.
Archbishops of Greek Church, 164,
218, 219.
Archimandrite Constantius, 327.
Archimandrites, 186-188, 196,218.
Architect, inspection of, 116.
Architecture, Christian, 201 ; Greek,
lOI.
Architrave, curvature of, 100.
Arena, Roman, 150, 273.
Areopagus 10, 104, 127, 164, 201,
202, 205.
Ares, 202.
Arethusa, spring of, 67.
Argolis, 271, 279.
Argos, 7, 58, 279.
Argos the faithful dog, 58.
Argostoli, 46, 48, 49, 54.
Aristides, apology to Hadrian, 204,
205 ; "the rhetorician," 233.
Aristophanes, 126, 145, 154, 169, 176.
Aristotle, 226, 227, 318, 335, 343.
Arsakeion in Athens, 234.
Art, later Greek, 120; pre-Persian 120.
Artemis, 94; Brauronia, 112; wor-
ship of, 121, 346.
Asia Minor, 356.
Asia Minor, theatres in, 143.
Asylum of St. Catherine, 250.
Atakos, 64.
Athene, 33, 34, 55, 60, 61, 69, 94, 97,
103, 135, 260 ; aegis of, 120, 121 ;
as Saint Sophia, 210 ; coin, 245, 246;
colossal statue of, 101; contest with
Poseidon, 114; Corinthian helmet,
123; Doric chiton, 123 ; early repre-
sentations of, 120-122; Ergane,
117 ; girdle of, 95 ; guarding a stele,
123 ; holy hill of, 105, 112 ; Homer's
conception of, 103; Hygieia, 230;
in new guise, 104 ; influence of, 103 ;
mourning, 122 ; Nike temple of, 97,
113; peplos for, 237; Polias, 117;
Promachos, 118, 127; statue by
Phidias, 103; statues given to, 94,
124, 261 ; temples to, 94, 124, 261,
352, 365) 366; types of, 118, 120.
Athenian Mount of Olives, 127;
newspapers, yy, 163, 170, 229;
Wall Street, 170, 171.
Athens, 6-10, 25, 58, 76, 89, 90, 118,
125, 126, 283, 345 ; Acropolis of,
107 ; Christian architecture, 201 ;
citadel of, 126; cleanliness of, 155;
dances at, 154; Easter in, 221,
ecclesiastical school, 218 ; grave
monuments, 135; growth of, 93;
homes in, 195-198 ; in Middle Ages,
155; marriage customs in, 183-
188 ; Metropolitan Church, 207 ;
INDEX
375
morality in, 198 ; mountains near,
253 ; museums of, 7, 10, 89, 91,
113, 120, 121, 125, 158, 226, 248,
258; old and new, 155, 157, 162,
163, 225, 226; Roman monuments
at, 127; stelcE zX, 129; street shows,
178, 179; streets of, 156, 167, 171,
172; supremacy of, 114, 129-135 ;
theatres of, 104, 139, 154.
" Athens of the Middle Ages," 228.
Athletics, 297.
Athlothetes, 207.
Attalus II., 167 ; Stoa of, 167.
Attica, 317; trees in, 256 ; wanderings
in, 251.
Attic coins, 245, 246 ; drama, growth
of, 149 ; gravestones, 131, 132 ; pen-
insula, 260, 261 ; shores, 254.
Attic Days, 223.
" Attic Nights," 223.
Attic workman, 347.
Auditorium, growth of, 141.
Aulis, 355.
Aulis, Bay of, 318.
Aulus Gellius, 223, 227.
Avga^ 226.
Bacchanals, 160.
Bacchylides, 345.
Baedeker, 60, 67, 286, 292, 346.
Bakers, 168, 169, 173, 174.
Baptism, 193, 194, 208, 280.
Barber-shops, 231.
Barnabas, 203.
Baron Mimont, 335.
Baron Sina of Vienna, 158.
Basil, 309-312, 328.
Bassae, temple of, 259, 285.
Battlements of Troy, 370.
Beams of Propylaea, 112.
Beauty in Greek religion, 206.
Beethoven, 106, 137.
Belvedere on Acropolis, 128.
Betrothal, 186.
Bicycles in Greece, 166, 200.
Bikelas' ' Tales of the iEgean," 192,
219.
Birth, 192-194 ; Fates presiding over,
210.
Bishop, salary of, 219.
Black Hills, 350.
Boeotia, 271, 317, 318.
Boston fire, 369.
Botticher, Karl, theory of, 98.
Boule, debates in, 164.
Bouleuterion, 292.
Boulevard of the Academy, 173; of the
University, 173.
Bournabashi, 361, 362, 363,
Bricks with straw, 369.
Brindisi, 14, 15, 57.
British Archaeological School, 226,
280; Museum, frieze in, 95, 96.
Bronzes on Acropolis, 120.
Bugle calls, 241.
Building, mechanical difficulties of,
109.
Bulgarian church, 218.
" Burnt City, The," 365.
Byron, 9, 95.
Byzantine age, 275 ; art, 179; chapel
in pagan grotto, 125 ; churches, 97,
158, 206, 207, 293; cupola, 277;
supremacy, 4, 26.
" Byzantine Art," 205, 210.
Calendar, ancient Greek, 207.
Callicrates, 90.
Calvert, Frank, 361.
Calypso, 33, 261.
"Camperdown," 78, 85.
Camping outfit, 14.
Canada, camping in, 14, 20, 57.
Canal in auditorium, 143; of Corinth,
269, 270.
Cape Colonna, 261.
Carnival, 177-179.
Carphyllides, epitaph of, 137.
Caryatides, 113.
Castalian spring, 300, 302, 306.
Cathedral in Athens, 158.
Cecrops, 126.
Celsus, Origen's reply to, 204, 205.
Central Museum, Athens, 7.
Ceos, 345.
Cephalonia, 45-83.
Ceremony of baptism, 193, 194.
Chaerestratos, 258.
Chalcis, 337, 343.
Chapels in Greek church, 216.
376
INDEX
Charleston, earthquake of, 79.
Charon, death messenger, 210.
Cheese shops, 168, 169, 175.
Children of Athens, 237.
Chiron, 319.
Cholera quarantine, iS.
Choral dance, 139, 140, 152, 153.
Chorus in Greek theatre, 140.
Christ as Orpheus, 211.
Christian apologists, early, 204 ;
church, Parthenon as, 94 ; doctrine,
influence of paganism on, 211 ; pan-
theon, 202, 204; saints in street
names, 167 ; service, 188 ; shrines,
201, 202; significance of orientation,
207 ; tradition, 29 ; virgin goddess,
104.
Christianity, advent of, 97 ; and pagan-
ism, martyrs of, 127; development
of, 103 ; Greek philosophy in, 203;
growth of, 203 ; in Jewish communi-
ties, 203 ; moral and social vigor of,
205 ; nature love in, 1 25 ; origin of,
201 ; temples of, 97 ; triumph of,
201, 203.
Christmas, 174, 179, 249.
Chryso, 298.
Church, modem Greek, 214-222, 164 ;
music, at Athens, 160 ; problems in
Greece, 215.
Circular dance, 139, 140, 152, 153.
Citadel of Corinth, 272.
Cities claiming Homer, 356.
Cladeus, 290, 291, 293.
Clasping of hands, Greek custom, 134.
Cleanthes, hymn of, 205.
Cleomenes refused admission to Erech-
theum, 114.
Clepsydra, well of, 124.
Climate, 3, 8, 20, 27, 39, 70, 75.
Cocks of Athens, 224.
Coffee-house, 169.
Colonnades, 257 ; Doric and Ionic,
168 ; of Olympia, 292 ; of Propylaea,
108.
Colonus, home of Sophocles, 126, 255.
Columns, construction of, 100; Doric,
116, 270, 271 ; entasis of, 99, 100 ;
of Nike Temple, 113; of Parthe-
non, 116.
Comedians, 178.
Communion, Greek Church, 217.
Conception of death, 134, 136.
Conflict, East and West ; Greek and
Hebrew, 216.
Conon, 255.
Conservatory at Athens, 160.
Constantine, 166.
Constantinople, 29 ; patriarch of, 218.
Constantius, 210.
Constitution Square, 229.
Convent of Daphne, 251; of Saint
Gerasimo, 47, 50.
Cooking, 226, 253, 284, 310.
Co-operative industries in Greek vil-
lage, 323.
Coppersmiths, 172.
Corfu, 15-76, 271, 274 ; images found
at, 121; peasant girls of, 114; say-
ings in, 210.
Corinth, 282, 283, 297; excavations
at, 271 ; temple at, 270, 271.
Corinthian colonies, 25, 45 ; gulf,
268, 271, 297, 313; helmet worn
by Athene, 123; war, hero in
Corinthians, epistles to, 272.
Cornice of Propylaea, 112.
Corycian grotto, 299.
Cosmetics, 199.
Cothurnos^ 148.
Country hospitality, 285; weddings,
189, 190^
Creed of Greek Church, 217.
Creon, 146.
Crete, vii., 76, 230, 350.
Crinagoras of Mitylene, 252.
Cronion, hill of, 289, 290, 293.
Cross, sign of the, 216, 217.
Crown Prince Constantine, 78; Fred-
erick, 291.
Crusaders, 26.
Cuckoos, 299.
Culture of Trojans, 370.
Curtius, Ernst, 281, 291.
Curvature of Parthenon, 92, 98-100.
Custer, 24, 242.
" Customs and Lore of Modern
Greece," 209.
Cyclades, 344, 345, 349.
INDEX
377
Cyclopean galleries, 278 ; walls, 63,
93, 108, III, 119, 126,275.
Cyprus, 29.
DiEDALUS, chair, 117.
Dances, Athens. Eleusis, Megara, 154.
Dancing at Eleusis and Megara, 140 ;
at weddings, 188-190 ; on Pnyx, 140.
Daphne, pass of, from Acropolis, 104.
Dardanelles, 356.
Daskalio, Ithaca, 67.
Deacons of Greek Church, 218.
Death, views of, 210.
Deifying tendency, 203.
Delos, 346,349-35^360.
Delphi, 7, 297-312, 348. .
Delphic Amphictyony, 297 ; hymn to
Apollo, 303-306 ; oracle, 298-300,
307-
Demeter, 209, 253.
Demetrius of Phaleron, 132; the guide,
28}.
Democracy of the Greeks, 228.
Demodocus, 190.
Demons, 204, 208, 211.
Demosthenes, 127, 133.
Despoina, temple of, 283.
Devil, representations of, 211,
Dexia, Bay of, 68.
Dexileos, tomb of, 131.
Diazoma, 143.
Diet of the peasants, 197.
Diogenes, 164-166; a modern, 164,
165, 173-
Diomedes, 357.
Dionysia, modem, 178.
Dionysius the Areopagite, 202.
Dionysus, 209, 273, 274, 297 ; dances
in honor of, 140; festival of, 207;
temples of, 153; theatre of, 152,
178, 227; verses to, 141.
Dipylon of Athens, 129.
Distomo, 308, 309, 312.
Divine agency, Hebrew forms of, 204 ;
Greek forms of, 204.
Doctors, 218.
Dogmas of Greek Church, 221.
Domes and arches, 275.
Doors of temples, 109.
Doric architecture, development of,
i39 279; chiton of Athene, 123;
colonnades, 108, 168; columns, 252,
270, 271, 276, 344 ; lighting of, 101 ;
order, revival of, 13, 89, 90 ; pilasters,
347; roof of, 119; simpHcity, 198;
temples, 114, 202, 283.
Dorpfeld, vi., viii., ix., 8, 94, 153, 164,
168, 255, 257, 264, 267, 268, 273,
276-280, 283, 291-293, 342, 347,
356-371; lectures, 116; lighting of
temples, loi ; monuments of Athens,
226; studies, 117.
Dorpfeld's architectural knowledge,
102, 109; discoveries of, 112; Greek
theatre, 144, 145, 148.
Dowry, 183-191, 198.
Drachmas, fluctuations of, 171.
Draco, 126.
Drama, development of, 141, 149.
Dressed stones at Troy, 3CS.
Drinking songs, Greek, 160.
Drunkenness, 197.
Duelling, 229.
Dumas, 35, 38, 58.
" Each and All," 96.
Eagle, symbol of Zeus and John the
Evangelist, 211.
Early Christian apologists, 204; dwel-
lers in Athens, 93,
Earrings, on early statues, 121.
Earthquakes at /Etna, Katakolon,
Pyrgos, Zante, 80; at Charleston,
79 ; at Zante, 70, 191, causes of, 79;
Olympia, 290 ; Parthenon, 98.
Easter, 30, 221, 222, 244, 287.
Ecclesiastical authority, 218; schools,
218.
Echo colonnade, 292.
Educational movements, 250.
Egyptian statues compared to Greek,
121.
Eileithyia, temple of, 209.
Elders of Greek Church, 218.
Eleusinian mysteries, 251.
Eleusis, 7, 251-253, 345; dances at,
140, 154.
Elgin, Lord, and Parthenon frieze, 95,
251; Caryatides, 113.
Elis, 297.
378
INDEX
Emerson, R. W., 96.
England, protectorate of, 19, 26, 45>
60, 74, 80.
English Archaeological School, Mega-
lopolis, 198; residents in Zante,
78, 80, war-vessel, 85.
Entasis of columns, 99, 100.
Ephialtes, 322.
Epidaurians, 273.
Epidaurus, 7, 264, 272; theatre at,
142, 147, 148, 152, 154.
Epirus, sayings in, 210.
Epitaphs, 134, 137.
Ept>chs of Greek architecture, 252.
Erechtheum, 117, 118, 120; as Chris-
tian church, 114; as Turkish harem,
115; Cleomenes refused admission
to, 114; description of, 94, 97, 105,
113, 114.
Erechtheus, 126.
Eretria, theatre of, 335, 342, 343.
Erinyes, 208.
Eski-Hissarlik, 362.
Eubcea, 254, 260, 335-3431 Po^s of,
317, 318; priest in, 219.
Enboea, villages of, 338.
Eulogia, 208.
Eumaeus, 58, 63, 64.
Euphemisms, 208, 209.
Euripides, 126, 153, 154.
Euripus, 317, 318.
European cathedrals, grotesque in, 212.
European influence on Athens, 159,
181.
Evans, E. P. 214.
Excavations at Corinth, 271; at
Delphi, 299; at Olympia, 291.
Excavations of 1893, 366.
Excommunication, 208.
Fashionable life in Athens, 182.
Fates presiding over birth and mar-
riage, 210.
Felton, Professor, 7, 200.
Felton's translation of " CEconomicus,"
200.
Fergusson, lighting of temples, loi.
Figurines, Tanagra, 248.
Piliogtie, 217.
Financial condition of Zante, 'j'j, 81.
Fishwives, 168, 176.
Flowers, 22, 23, 27, 43, 70, 350.
Flower-sellers, 173, 175.
Fluting of columns, 252, 259.
Fortresses of Mycenaean age, 366.
Foster, Mr., seismologist, 80.
France, "j^j ; wine-market of, 81.
" Francinet," 236.
Prankish rule, 95 ; supremacy, 4 ; times^
relics of, 251.
Freedom of the press, 229.
Freeman, Edward A., 224, 251.
French Academy, 158; and Italian
opera, 159; Archaeological School,
226, 301, 347; government, excava-
tions of, 291, 299.
Frescoes, Propylaea, no.
" Friends of the Poor," 250.
Frieze of Parthenon, 95, 124.
Fruit-dealers, 168, 171, 174.
Funerals in Athens, 179, 180.
Funeral, an international, 335.
Funerals, Greek, 179, 180, 339.
Fustanella, 159, 172.
Future Hfe, belief in, 252.
" Gaius, Lean," 232.
Game cock, 242, 243.
Games, 282, 288; children's, 179.
Gardner, Ernest, 280,
Gargoyles, 212, 213.
Gastouni, 80.
Gastouri, 39, 41, 43, 114, 310.
Gate of the Agora, 167, 168.
Gauls, invasion by, 301, 302, 306.
Geldart, 28.
Gell, 64, 69.
George, King of Greece, 26, 36, 48,
73, 78, 85, 221.
Georgios, 183-192, 225, 244.
Gerasimo, Hagios. See Saint.
German excavations, Olympia, 291 ;
Institute, 226.
Germanus, Metropolitan, 219.
Germany, response from, jy.
" Gerostathes," 236.
Girls wheeling barrows, 198.
Gladiatorial spectacles, arrangement
for, 150.
" Glory of Hellas," 309.
INDEX
379
*' Glory of the Imperfect," 6.
Glyptothek at Munich, 345.
Goats, 172, 175, 238-240.
God-parents, 193, 194.
Good Friday, 221, 222, 284.
Gorgoneion, 121.
Goths, invasion of, 181.
Graeco-Roman city at Troy, 360 ; vase
paintings, 149.
Graeco-Turkish War, 250, 320.
Grave monuments, 131, 132, 135, 226.
Great Britain, protectorate of, 19, 26*
45, 60, 74, 80.
Great Treasure, The, 359.
Greece, excursions in, 267 ; old and
new, 125, 162; sculptors in, 132;
shrines of, 93; Venetian hold in, 95.
Greek Academy,
and Roman
churches, 215; anthology, 136, 232,
233; Archaeological Society, 251,
255,256, 274; architecture, loi; art,
later, 120, symbols of, 120; banks,
170, 171; calendar, 29, 248, 259^
260; church, 28, 52, 71, 164, 216-
221, 227, 311, 312; columns in
modern architecture, 157; deities,
temples to, 97 ; domestic life, 181 ;
engineers, 270 ; games, 282, 288 ;
gods, 5 ; guns, bombardment by, 96 ;
idea, influence of, 103 ; inns, 48, 65,
322 ; language, paganism in, 204,
Christianity in, 204; liberty, 127;
literature, conception of death, 136 ;
love of nature in, 256 ; modern pro-
nunciation of, 164 ; money, varia-
tions in, 171 ; national victories, 254 ;
nationality, 126, 128 ; philosophy
in Christianity, 203; Punch and
Judy, 178; schools, 279; spirit, 195;
stucco, 271 ; temples, orientation of,
loi ; theatre, formation of, 142, act-
ing in, 144, germinal idea of, 154,
origin of, 139, stage in, 143; virgin,
inspiration of, 104; wedding, 140;
wit, 232.
Grotesque in architecture, 212-214.
Grotto at Delphi, 299 ; of Apollo,
124, 348 ; of Pan, 124.
Gyaros, 349.
Gymnasts, 176.
Hadrian, 167; Arch of, 127, 227;
Aristides' apology to, 204 ; Stoa of,
225.
Hahn's " Neugriechische Marchen,"
209.
Haigh, Arthur E., theories of, 144-148.
" Hail, Columbia," 237.
Hair-dressers, 168.
Hall of Bulls, 346, 347.
Hanai-Tepeh, 361.
Handel, funeral march, 136.
Harness-makers, 168.
Harrison, Miss Jane, 208.
Havoc of earthquake, 76,
Hebrew religion, rise of, 94.
Hecla, earthquakes in, 80.
Hegeso, monument to, 130.
Hegoumenos^ 309, 310, 311.
Helen, 345, 364, 365, 370.
Helene, 345.
Helicon, 302, 306.
Hellenic academy, 158; educators,
288.
Hellenism among rich and poor, 195.
Hellenistic Greek, 163.
Hellenists, organized, 267.
Hellespont, 363.
Hephaestus, 362.
Hera, temple of, 289.
Heraeon, 279, 292, 293.
Hercules, 319.
Hermes, 135, 173, 261 ; of Praxiteles,
7, 18, 293; statues of, 117, 165;
Street, 167.
" Hermogenes, Little," 232.
Hermopolis, 346.
Herod with nimbus, 211.
Herodes Atticus, 164, 223, 269;
Odeion of, 104, 127, 154.
Herodotus, 351.
Heroic age, customs of, 191.
Hill, Rev. Dr., 234, 235.
Hippocrates Street, 167.
Hiram of Tyre, 277.
Hissarlik, 357, 359, 361, 363, 370.
History, 3, 5 ; and geography, 268.
Holidays, 30, 313.
Holiness in Greek religion, 206.
Holy Monday, Greek Church, 140;
Oriental Orthodox Catholic Apos-
380
INDE}i
tolic Church, 217; Trinity, festival
of, 312, monastery of, 326.
Homer, 4, 9, 13, 28, 32, 3^1 35 37,
56, 59, 63, 69, 82, 318, 357, 361,
363 ; conception of Athene, 103 ;
epithets of, 83, 224, 262 ; the sea,
262.
<' Homer's School," 67.
Homeric cock, 228 ; cooking, 284 ;
gallantry, 191; geography, 56, 67-
69, 84; Greek, 163; greeting, 63;
ground, 274 ; Ilios, 365, 370 ; scenes,
27S ; times, 20, 27, 63 ; tradition,
25, 29 ; Troy, 358, 364.
Homolle, Monsieur, 347.
Honesty of the Greeks, 197.
Hopken, Dr. Julius, theory of, 144,
145.
Homed Altar, 346, 347.
Horses in Ithaca, 61.
Hospitals, 250.
Hucksters in Agora, 168-173.
Hulme, F. Edward, 21 r.
Hymettus, 10, 104, 253, 345, 355.
Hymnals, Greek, 227.
Icon of Virgin, 298.
Iconoclastic controversies, 216.
Icons, 216, 298.
Ictinus, 90.
Idolatry, 216.
Ignorance of Greek priests, 218.
Iliad, 25, 32, 56, 260, 360, 363.
Ilios, 364-371.
Ilium, 365.
Images in Greek church, 212, 216.
Imbros, 363.
Immersion, rite by, 215.
ImpossibiHty of stage in Greek the-
atre, 145.
Independence, Greek, 254.
Inns, 48, 65, 322,
Inquisitiveness, 59.
Insane, hospitals for, 250.
Inscriptions, 167, 284, 346 ; on early
statues, 121.
Invasion by the Gauls, 30T, 302, 306.
Ionian Isles, ix, 19, 25,26, 54, 70, 83;
Musician, 237; Sea, 287, 297; wor-
shippers, shrine of, 346,
Ionic colonnades, 108, 168; columns,
Nike temple, 113; temple, Erech-
theum, 114.
Ischomachus, 199, 200.
Island trip, 255.
Islands of iEgean, 346.
Isthmian Wall, 268.
Isthmus of Corinth, 268, 269,
Italy, 76, 85.
Itea, 297, 298.
Ithaca, 25, 33, 37, 54-83, 182, 274,
350, 370.
Ithome, or Phanari, 325.
JACKSTONES, 1 79.
Jars at Troy, 368.
Jason, 319.
Jerusalem, temple at, 116.
Jesus, apotheosis of, 203 ; disciples of,
116; miraculous birth of, 205;
monotheism of, 203, 204.
Jewish temple, stones of, 116.
John the Evangelist, eagle as, 211.
Johnstone, Captain, 78.
Josephus on Jewish temple, 116.
Jugglers, 178.
Justin Martyr, 204, 205.
Kabbadias, Mr., 258.
Kaesariani, 253.
Kalabaka, 325, 326.
Kalikiopoulo, 37.
Kalopothakes, Dr., x., 227.
Karystos, 337.
Katakolon, 76, 80.
Katsiropoulou, Maria, 237.
Kehaya, Mademoiselle, 250.
Keos, 254.
Kephisia Street, 157.
Kerkyra, 25.
Khan of Baba, 322.
King George, 26, 48, 72) 7^ > his gar-
den, 36, 345 ; religion, 221 ; yacht,
85.
Kingdom of Greece, 26.
Klephtic ballads, 210.
Konistra, 150, 273.
Korte, Dr. A., x., 355, 356.
KreaSy 226.
Kyanos, 278.
INDEX
381
Kyrie eleisan, 52, 187.
Kynthos, Mt., 349.
Labyrinth, 274.
Laconia, 284 ; marriages in, 186.
" Ladies of the Acropolis," 121,
122.
Laertes, 58, 67, 69.
Lambrds, Professor, 228.
Lamps in Greek temples, 102.
Language, 28.
Laodamas, 261.
Larissa, 279, 319, 320, 324, 325.
Laurium, 263.
Law and order in Greece, 320.
Lawyers, 218.
Lechevalier, 362.
Lent, abstinence in, 197, 221 ; in Ath-
ens, 140; marriages in, 18'
Leon, tomb of, 133.
Leonidaeon, 292.
" Les Sculptures Grotesques et Sym-
boliques," 214.
Lesbos, 363.
Leto, temple of, 346.
Leucadian rock, 64.
Levke, 66.
Liberty, struggles for, 126, 127.
Library in Athens, 158.
Light in Greece, loi.
Limestone, 93, 258, 285, 286.
Lion as symbol in art, 133, 211.
Lion Gate, Mycenae, 274, 276.
Literary and artistic products, 103.
Literature, 82 ; shrines of, 57.
Liturgy of Greek Church, 220.
Lockyer, 10 1.
Logeion, 144-153-
Lolling, Dr., 286.
Long Walls of Themistocles, 126.
Lotikoumi, 183.
Louvre, sculptures removed to, 291.
Lover of trees, a, 339.
Lowell's opinion of Odyssey, 58.
Lucerne, 345.
Lucian, 210.
Lycabettus, 104, 155, 253.
Lycaeus, Mount, 284.
Lycurgus, 197, 284; of Athens, 152.
Lykosoura, 283.
" Lysimachus' cushion," 233.
" Lysistrata," 146.
Mackail, J. W., 137, 233.
Magdalen College, gargoyles in, 213,
Magi, with nimbus, 211.
Magicians, 178.
Mahaffy, Parthenon, 90.
" Maidens of the Porch," 114, 115.
Makronisi, 254, 345.
Malta, 76, 78.
Manatt, J. Irving, ix., 277, 336.
Mandylion, 191.
Mani, 186.
Mansell, Rear-Admiral, 318.
Mantinea, 279.
Mantzeros, 237.
Marathon, 126, 254, 279.
Marble, Pentelic, loi, 108.
" Marcus the doctor," 233.
Market inspection, 176; prices, 167.
Marketing in Athens, 170, 176.
Marriage compact, 185 ; customs, 182-
190 ; Fates presiding over, 210 ; fees,
219 ; laws of, 191 ; of Greek clergy,
217, 218 ; presents, 185 ; service, 182.
Martyrs of paganism, 127.
Masks, in carnival, 178.
Masonry on Acropolis, 93.
Mathetes, 204.
Mathitario, Ithaca, 67.
Matrimonial bargaining, 183.
Mavilla, ix., 14, 21, 28, 30, 37, 39, 46,
48, 53, 62, 63, 171, 172, 188.
Mavro Vouni, 319.
Mazi, 287, 289.
Megalopolis, 7, 279, 280, 283, 348;
excavations, 198 ; theatre of, 273.
Megara, 154 ; dances at, 140, 345.
Megaron, 276, 365.
Melanydro, spring of, 67.
Melas, Leon, 236.
Memorial of the dead, 243; mound,
254.
Menelaus, 195.
Messenia, 284.
Messianic idea, 203 ; Christ, 204.
Meteora, 324 ; cliffs of, 325.
Metropolitan Church, Athens, 207,
225.
382
INDEX
Metropolitans, 217-222.
Mice, havoc of, 278.
Middle Ages, representations of devil
and demons in, 211.
Mimont, Baron, 335.
Minaret placed on Parthenon, 95.
Mining, 263.
Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, 218.
Ministers of State, 222.
Miracles of Epidaurus, 272.
Mnesicles, Propylaea, iii.
Modern Greek Church, 214-222 ; lan-
guage, 27, 267 ; theatres in Athens,
159.
Mohammedanism victorious overChris-
tianity, 95.
Molo, Gulf of, 64-68.
Monasteries, 49, 53, 218, 219, 307-312.
Monastery, ascent of, 326 ; of Holy
Trinity, 326; of St. Barlaam, 328,
330 ; of St. George, 155 ; of St. Luke,
307, 309, 310. 312 ; of St. Stephen,
327 ; supper in, 32S.
Monastic life, 49, 53, 310-312 ; prop-
erty, 218, 219.
Money-changers, 170.
Monoliths, 270.
Monotheism, 203.
Monte San Salvatore, 27.
Morosini, 20, 95,
Mosque, Parthenon as, 95.
" Mother of God," 203.
Mother of the Gods, temple to, 168,
289.
Mother Superior of Cephalonia Mon-
astery, 50.
Mount Ida, 363.
Mount Kynthos, 349.
Mountain shrines, 40.
" Mourning Athene," 122, 123.
Muir, Miss Marion, x., 235, 237.
Murray's Hand-Book, 318.
Museums at Olympia, 291, 293 ; at
Athens. See Athens.
Music in Athens, 159.
Musical notation, 302.
Musicians in Roman theatre, 150;
in later times, 151.
Mycenae, 4, 7, 38, 64, 69, 268, 274-
279, 358, 365-371-
Mycenaean age, 358.
Mycenaean city, 365.
Mycenaean period, 366.
Mykale, 351.
Mykonos, 349, 351.
Myrtle-sellers, 168.
" Mythology and Monuments of An-
cient Athens," 208.
Mythology in the mart, 245; pagan,
202, 204.
Myths, Christian and pagan, 205.
Names, revival of ancient, 166.
Naos, 206.
Narthex, 206.
National Exposition, 158; holidays,
30, 313 ; hymn of Greece, 237 ;
Museum, 7, 158, 226, 248, 258,
stelce in, 129-135.
Nationality, feeling of, 288.
Natural beauty, appreciation of, 256.
Nature worship, 286.
Nauplia, 272, 278, 279.
Nausicaa, 32-36, 39, 42, 349
Nave, 206, 216.
Naxos, 345, 347, 349.
Naxos, legends of, 209.
Nazarenes, Greek priests, 217.
Neachori, Zante, 75.
Neale, excommunication, 208 ; orien-
tation of Greek churches, 206.
Neander, 216.
Neapolitan supremacy, 26.
" Nearer, my God, to Thee," in Greek,
227.
Nemesis, temples of, 25S.
Neo-Platonists, 127,
Nereids in popular poetry, 210.
Neritos, 59.
Nero, 300 ; Corinthian Canal, 269, 270.
" Neugriechische Marchen," 209.
New Testament, evil spirits in, 208 ;
Greek, 28, 209; times, 170, 215,
271.
New woman of Athens, 196.
New Year's, 249; in Agora, 174, 176.
Newsboys' schools, 250.
Newspaper jokes, 232.
Newspapers, advertisements in Greek,
199 ; in Athens, 228-232.
INDEX
383
Nicholas, 183, 190, 280.
Nicolas, Prince, 78.
Night schools, 250.
Nightingales, 256, 323.
Nike, temple of, 97, 104, 105.
Nimbus, origin of, 211.
Noach, Dr., 356.
" Noctes Atticae," 223.
Novum Ilium, 365.
Numismatics, 246.
Nymphs, cave of the, 68, 69.
Observatory Hill, Athens, 104.
Odeion of Herodes Atticus, 104, 127,
154, 164.
Odysseus, 32-37, 56-69, 136, 261,
278, 349, 355. 357.
" Odysseus' Castle," 62.
Odyssey, 25, 32-38, 57-70, 135, 195,
262, 279, 322, 349.
" CEconomicus," 199, 200.
CEdipus, 139; at Colonus, 146.
Officers of Greek Church, 218, 219,
Oil dealers, 168.
Old Greece and the New, The, 3-
Testament rites, 221.
Olga, Queen of Greece, y8, 79.
Olympia, 7, 268, 282, 287-297; museum
at, 291; shell conglomerate, no;
temples at, 100, 102, 270, 351^
360.
Olympic games, 288, 290, 292, 297.
Olympus, 9, 10, 319, 321, 322, 325,
340.
" On the Track of Odysseus," 27-
Opera in Athens, 228.
Opisthodomos, 206.
" Opisthodomos at Acropolis," 114.
Oracle of Oropus, 256.
Orchestra, 141, 143, 152, 263.
Orientation of Byzantine church, 206;
of temples, loi, 206, 259.
Origen's reply to Celsus, 204, 205.
Origin of Christianity, humble, 201.
Oropus, 255, 256.
Orphans, care of, 250.
Orpheus, Christ as, 211.
Ossa, 319, 321, 322.
Otus, 322.
PiEONius, Victory of, 293.
Pagan marriage customs, 182 ; service,
188.
Paganism, 272; and Christianity, 201,
202 ; assimilation of, 202 ; decay of,
201; deities of, 103; in Greek lan-
guage, 204 ; martyrs of, 127; splen-
dor of, 201 ; triumph of, 203.
Paintings, Propylaea, no.
Palace of Priam, 357.
Palaeokrdpi, 68.
Palaestra, 288, 292.
Palmer, George Herbert, 6, 36, 61.
Pan, grotto of, 124, 300, 307.
Panaghia Blastike, 209.
Panagiotes, 308, 311-313.
Panathenaic procession, 96, 177.
Pandion, 126.
Pantheon, Church of All Saints, 210.
" Papa Narkissos," 219.
Papal infallibiUty, 217.
Paradoi, 151.
Paraskevds, 298, 307.
Paris, influence of, on Athens, i8r.
Parish priest, income of, 219; occupa-
tions of, 219.
Parliament debates, 230.
Parnassus, 271, 297, 298, 300, 313;
Club, 228, 249; inn, 65.
Parnes, 104, 253.
Paros, 345, 349.
Parren, Mme. CalHrhoe, x., 196, 250;
Monsieur, x.
Parrot, Greek, 225.
Parthenon, 6, 10, 20, 25, 55, 89-124,
139, i55> 156,263, 332, 352, 355;
Acropolis before time of, 93, 94;
ancient statue in, 123; approach to,
106; as Byzantine church, 95, 97,
100; as powder magazine, 95; best
time to see, 104 ; bombardment of,
92 ; Byzantine worship in, 102 ;
called St. Sophia, 210; changes in,
102; completion of, 95, 108, 117,
118; crown of Acropolis, 112; cur-
vature of, 92 ; details of, 102 ; drums
of, 116, 117; earthquakes, 98; first
impression of, 90 ; foundations of,
98 ; frieze, 95, 124 ; models of, 89;
moonlight, 104 ; Pentelic marble,
384
INDEX
10 1 ; perfection of , 103; photographs
of, 89; setting of, 96, loi ; sim-
plicity of, 97 ; situation of, 93 ;
statue of Atlione in, 101 ; sunset,
105 ; topped with minaret, 95 ; work,
resemblance of stelae to, 134.
Passion service, beauty of the, 220.
Pater Anthimos, 186-188, 196, 219.
Pathos of grave stelae, 136.
Patras, 76, 80, 287 ; goats at, 240.
Patriarchs, 218.
Patriotic institution, Greek Church a,
221 ; plays, 159.
Patriotism, 5 ; shrine of, 254.
Paul, Saint. See Saint.
Pauline church, 215.
Pausanias, 4, 8, 112, 117, 118, 167,
202, 255, 269-275, 281, 300, 301.
Peas in jars at Troy, 368.
Peasants, frugaUty of, 197.
Pedagogues, 233, 235.
Pediments, sculptured, loi ; at Olym-
pia, 293.
Pelasgic dweller in Athens, 93 ; walls,
97, 119.
Peleus, 319.
PeUon, 319, 321, 322, 340.
Peloponnesian War, 26.
Peloponnesus, 70, 76, 258, 267; an
island, 268-270, 345 ; heart of, 284;
homes in, 198 ; marriage customs
in, 183-189.
Peneius, 320, 322, 326, 328.
Penelope, 54, 58.
Pennethome, curvature, 92.
Penrose, measurements by, 98, 99, loi,
259.
Pentecost, 244.
Pentelic marljle, loi, 108, no, 123.
Pentelicus, 104, 156, 254, 263, 345 ;
monastery on, 219.
Perfumers, 168.
Pergamon, Attains, king of, 167.
Periander, tyrant of Corinth, 269, 270.
Pericles, 58, 90, 94, 96, 106, 225, 246;
age of, 126, 164, 275 ; Propylaea,
107, 108, III.
Peripatetic dairy, 238-240.
Permanent theatres, 143.
Persia, hosts of, 254, 279.
Persian invasion, 126; naval defeat,
351; War, 343, buildings before,
118, temple built after, 94.
Persians, spoils taken from, 117; de-
struction by, 120, of Erechtheum,
117, of Propylaea, 107, of statues,
120.
Pet animals on grave reliefs, 135.
Petrine church, 215.
Phaeacians, land of the, 25, 32, 2,7 i 38,
60.
Phaedriades, 297, 298, 300, 306.
Phaleron, Bay of, from Acropolis, 104.
Phanari, or Ithome, 325.
Pharsalus, home of Achilles, 325.
Pherae, 319.
Phidias, 58, 90, 94, 126, 263; statue
of Athene, 103, 118, 292.
Philanthropic enterprises, 230.
Philanthropy, 'j'j, 249.
Philippeion, 292.
Philologists, 218.
Philopappus, hill of, 104, 127.
" Philo's boat," 233.
Phocis, 271, 297.
Phoenicia, 277.
Phoenix, symbol of resurrection, 211.
Phorcys, harbor of, 60, 68, 69.
Piano in Athens, 160.
Pilatus railroad, 329.
Pindar, 126, 225.
Pindus, 328.
Piraeus, 25, 104, 255, 317, 337, 352,355.
Pisistratus on Acropolis, 94.
Pissaeto, 61.
Pithoi, 368.
Pithos^ 164, 173.
Plato, 58, 126, 127, 183, 200, 204, 225,
227,233, 252,311, 369.
Plutarch, 169.
Pnyx, 104; dancing on, 140.
Polis, Bay of, 67.
Political and ecclesiastical authority,
218.
Pollux, 179.
Polycleitus, 274.
Polyphemus, 278.
Polytheism, 208.
Pompey, battlefield of, 325.
Poros, 345.
INDEX
385
Poros stone, 103, no.
Poseidon, 37, 73, 261, 317, 363; as
Saint Nicholas, 209 ; contest with
Athene, 114 ; month of, 287.
Post-Iliad, 355.
Potters, 168, 169, 171.
Pottery sliops, 172.
PKiger, Dr., 356.
Praxiteles, 263 ; Hermes of, 7, 293.
Prayers for success in business, 177.
Preachers, selection of, 218.
Pre-Persian art, 120, 121, in Acropo-
lis, 108 ; days, 225.
Priesthood in Greek Church, 218.
Prime minister, 196, 222, 229.
Prince Nicolas, 78.
Prison chaplain, Athens, 219 ; school,
250.
Prisoner's aid society, 250.
Private schools, 234.
Procession of Holy Spirit, 217.
Prodicus, 345.
Promenades in Athens, 159.
Pronaos, 206, 347.
Propyl^a, 25, 97, 105-118, 139, 155,
156, 263; begun, 108; description
of, 107; design of, 108, no;
earthquakes and explosions, log ;
materials of, 108 ; never completed,
107 ; old and new, 107, 108 ; per-
manence of, 97 ; prophetic details
of, 112; symmetry of, 112.
Proscenium, 143-152.
Proskene, 257.
Proskenion, 143, 149, 151, 273, 281,
152.
159;
" Byzantine
Protection against rain, 143, 151,
Psomi^ 226.
Public buildings in Athens, 158,
cooks, 168, 173-175.
" Public Opinion," 228.
Pvblic schools, 233, 234.
Pullah, R. Popplewell
Art," 205.
Pulpitum, 144, 150; of Roman thea-
tre, 138.
Puritan churches as magazines, 95.
Puritanism, theatre, dancing, 138.
Pyrgos, 190.
Pythian games, 297.
Quarantine, 13.
Quarries, 254, 263.
Queen Olga of Greece, 78, 79, 221.
Ram of Odysseus, 278.
Rangabe, Alexander, x.
Reformatory in Athens, 160.
Refugees, sheltering, 250.
Reisch, Dr., 145.
Relation of temple and theatre, 139.
Religion,' birth and growth of, 125 ;
in human life, Greek, 206 ; of
Greece, 252.
Religious conflict, 5 ; dances, 138 ;
feeling, indications of, 120; rites,
pagan influence on, 202.
Representations of life on stel(S, 130.
Resinato^ 197.
" Retreat," 241.
Revolution of 1822, 124.
Rhamnus, 7, 257.
Rhenea, or Great Delos, 349.
Rhythm of Apollo hymn, 302.
Rings, wedding, exchange of, 186.
Ritual of Greek Church, 214, 220.
Rivers in Greece, 82.
Rodd, Rennell, 209.
Roman additions to Greek theatres,
143, 152; arena, 150; blocks, 367;
Corinthian Canal, 269, 272 ; cus-
toms of burial, 129; Ilium, 365;
monuments at Athens, 127 ; occupa-
tion, 4, 26 ; relics, 284 ; scuplture in
Athens, 134 ; stage, 138 ; stucco,
271 ; times, theatre in, 139, 150, 151.
Rome, Christian architecture, 201 ;
Pantheon, 210; the new, ii;7.
Roofs, 279; earthen, 119 ; temple, 119.
Roof-tiles, T18, 119.
Roscher, 61.
Rosetta Stone, 225.
Rouen, Palais de Justice, 213.
Royal palace at Athens, 1 58.
Russian Church, 217, 218.
Rustic pipes, 190.
Sacred precincts, in, 252; Way to
Eleusis, 251.
Saint Anastasios, 67 ; Barlaam, Mon-
astery of, 328, 330; Catherine,
25
386
INDEX
Asylum of, 250; Demetrius, 209;
Dionysius, 209; Gerasimo's con-
vent, 47, 48, 50, 51, 54; John, gospel
of, 106; Luke, gospel of, 106,
Monastery of, 307 ; Marina, 209 ;
Nicholas, 209; Paul, 4, 10, 14, 127,
140, 164, 169, 201, 202, 203, 216,
238, 246, 272, 340; Peter's, 106,
201; Sophia, 103, 207, 210, 275;
Spiridion, 29, 30, 32, 36, 39;
Stephen, Monastery of, 327 ; Theo-
dore's day, 243.
Saints, honors paid to, 211 ; icons of,
216; pagan gods as, 204, 209.
Saka, 286.
Salamis, 104, 126, 225, 251, 253, 271,
345-
Salary of clergy, 215, 218, 219.
Salisbury Cathedral, 106, 212, 213.
Samos, Cephalonia, 54, 61, 64, 67.
Samos, island of, 349.
Samothrace, 363.
Sanctuary, 206, 216.
Sanitarium, Epidaurus, 272 ; Oropus,
257.
Santa Maura, 64.
Sappho, 64.
Saronic Gulf, 268, 271, 337, 345.
Sarum, 106.
Satan with nimbus, 211.
Satire in cathedral sculpture, 212.
Scamander, 360, 362, 363.
Scene, 143, 152.
Scenery, 3, 8, 21, 26, 39, 43, 82, 104,
256, 261, 264, 287, 300, 309, 313, 321,
3501 370.
Scheria, 25, 38, 60.
Schliemann, Dr., 4, 7, 63, 64, 157, 196,
275, 278, 357-367; Agamemnon,
195 ; Mrs., X., 195, 276, 359.
Schliemannville, 357, 363.
Schmidt, M. B., 211.
School children, 233.
Schools, Greek, 164.
Screen in theatre, 142.
Sculptors of tombstones, 132.
Seats in Greek theatre, 143, 280, 281.
Seismology, students of, 79.
"Select Epigrams from the Greek
Anthology," 233.
Self-government, struggle for, 126.
Semantron, 331.
Seriphos, 349.
Servian Church, 218.
" Seven against Thebes," 255.
Sewing machines, 253.
Sexes divided in Greek church, 215.
Sheep at Mycenae, 278.
Shining Cliffs, 297, 298, 300, 306.
Ship of Stone, 32.
Shoemakers, 172, 174.
Shoes, Greek, 171, 172.
Shouts in Agora, 174.
Shrine in Agora, 177; of Hellenic
nationality, 291 ; of patriotism, 254;
of tlie mountains, 286 ; of the sea,
286 ; of the Virgin in homes, 182.
Slirines of Apollo and Artemis, 346.
Simois, 360.
Simonides, 345.
Sioux Indians, burial customs of, 131.
Siphnos, 349.
Sirens, symbols on tombs, 133.
Skene, 13, 141-143, 151, 152, 281.
Sky, Greek, loi.
Slavery, 263.
Slaves, 168, 174.
" Smoke-shops," 169.
Smoking, 169, 181, 280.
Smyrna, 356.
Social conventions in Athens, 181.
Socrates, 58, 127, 164, 168-170, 175,
200, 223, 238, 246, 311, 369.
Solidity of Cyclopean walls, 93.
Solomon's Temple, 277.
Solomos, poet of Zante, 237.
Solon, 126, 246; Street of, 167.
Sophia, Saint, temple of, 103.
Sophocles, 58, 126, 143, 149, 152, 154,
227, 369.
Sparta, 156, 284; girls in, 193; mar-
riage customs in, 183-189.
Spartan frugality, 285.
Spielhagen, 35.
Spinning, 253.
Spiridion, 181, 197, 225.
Spiridion, Saint. See Saint.
Spon and Wheler, 92.
Stadion, 292; caf6 near, 183; Olym-
pia, 290; Street, 173, 179, 202.
INDEX
387
Stadium, Delphi, 297.
Stage in Greek theatre, 141-151, 257,
280, 281.
Stagirite, school of the, 226.
State and Church, union of, 217.
Statue of Apollo, 346.
Statues, 7, 94, loi, 103, 114, 115, 118,
120, 124, 168, 261, 292, 293; de-
stroj'ed by Persians, 120; in Roman
and Greek churches, 216; on Acro-
polis, 120.
Stavrds, 66-68.
Steamships, 9, 45, 57.
StelcCj 129.
Stele, Athene guarding a, 123.
Steps, curvature of, 99 ; interpolation,
100 ; of theatre, 280, 281 ; size of
temple, 100.
Stillman, 37.
Stoa of Attalus, 167, 225.
Strack, Dr., 356.
Strata of Troy, 365.
Straw, mark of, 369.
" Street of the Anvil," 172.
" Street of the Red Shces, "171, 172.
" Street of Tombs," 129.
Streets in Athens, 156, 167, 171, 172.
Stretch, John, 21, 22, 46.
Stucco, use of, no, 271.
Studies in public schools, 235, 236.
Stylobate, curvature of, 98, 99, 100,
281.
Suicide, in Greek Church, 241.
Sunday, wedding day of the poor, 190.
Sunium, 118, 260, 261, 263, 286, 317,
345. 352.
Superstitions, 208.
Supplies for Zante, jS.
Supreme Court of Greece, 202.
Swallows in Vale of Tempe, 324.
Symbolism in Greek Church, 220.
" SymboHsm in Christian Art," 211.
Symbols in Greek art, 120, 133.
Syngros, Mr,, patriotic Athenian, 291.
Synod governing Greek Church, 217,
218.
Syra, 346, 349.
Tables of money-changers, 170.
Tagari, 176.
" Tales of the iEgean," 192, 219.
Tanagra figures, 226 ; vases, 247.
Tarbell, Professor, ix., 226, 317, 329,
Taygetus, 284.
Teachers, salary of, 234.
Tegea, 207, 279.
Telemachus, 58, 135.
Tempe, Vale of, 317, 320, 322, 327.
Temple doors, 109; lighting, loi ; of
Apollo, 346; of Artemis, 94, 346;
of Atliene, 94, 352, 365, 366; of
Athene Polias, 117, 118; of Hera,
35. -7i 289, 351 ; of Leto, 346; of
Nike, 113; of Olympian Zeus, too,
102, 127, 227, 289, 291 ; roofs, 119;
steps, curvature of, 99, size of,
100 ; interpolation of, loo ; to the
Mother of the Gods, 168, 289, 292.
Temples at Bassa;, 285 ; at Corinth,
270; at Mycenae, 276; at Olympia,
100, 102, 270, 351; at Rhamnus,
257-260; difficulties of building,
108; Greek, orientation of, loi.
Temporary stage, 144, 145 ; theatres,
143-
Tenedos, island, 360, 363.
Tenos, 254, 345, 349.
Terra-cottas on Acropolis, 120.
TertuUian, 211, 216.
Tetradrachma, 244.
Texier, Charles, " Byzantine Art,"
205, 210.
Textbooks in schools, 235-237.
'* The Attic Theatre," 144.
" The Clouds," 153.
" The Early Agora," 228.
"The Homely Sister," 192,
" The Knights," 153.
The Kyria, 181-190, 197.
" The Mycenaean Age," 277.
"The Stage in Aristophanes," 145.
Theatre at Argos, 279 ; at Epidaurus,
272-274; at Eretria, 355 ; at Megal-
opolis, 280, 281 ; at Oropus, 256,
257 ; at Rhamnus, 256 ; at Thoricus,
263, 264; Greek, 138; in Roman
days, 150; of Dionysus, 139; of
Herodes Atticus, 104.
Theban terra-cottas, 242.
388
INDEX
Thebes, 256.
Themis, statue of, 258.
Themistocles, 108, 126, 255, 289.
Theodoric, 369V
Theological school of university, 218.
Theology, scholastic, 203.
Theory of theatre construction, 257.
Thermopylae, 136, 166, 318.
Thersilion, 281.
Theseion, 104, 168, 201.
Theseus, 126.
Thespis, introduction of first actor,
141.
Thessahan coast, 318 ; grain, 321 ;
plain, 328.
Thessaly, homes in, 198.
Tholos^ 274.
Thoricus, 263, 264.
Thursday, fashionable marriage day,
190.
Tide mills at Cephalonia, 46.
Tigarni, 351.
Tiles for roofs, 279.
Tir>'ns, 7, 38, 274, 277, 279, 283, 358,
360, 367.
Tombs of Mycenze, 275.
Tombstones, 129.
Tool marks, evidence of, 102.
Topography of Athens, 253.
Tower of the Winds, 127, 156.
Toys on Acropolis, 120.
Tozer, 330.
Tragedy in Athens, 240.
Trained nurses, 250.
Trapezitai, 170.
" Treasury of Bones," 243.
Trees in Euboea, 339.
Triglyphs, 348 ; colored, loi ; painted
no.
Trikkala, 325.
Trikoupes, 164; Prime Minister, 196;
Miss Sophia, 196, 234.
Trinitarian formula, 204 ; formula in
marriage service, 189.
Tripolis, 279.
Troad, 363.
Trojan acropolis, 366 ; crematory, 362 ;
elders, 370; plain, 361; war, 56,
62.
Troy, 7, 25, 38, 64, 69, 355-371 ; an-
tiquity of, 276 ; Mrs. Schliemann at,
195.
Tryon, Admiral, 78.
Tsountas, Chrestos, 277.
Turkey, map of, 350.
Turkeys, 174, 175.
Turkish battery on Acropolis, 113;
dress, 364; harem in Erechtheum,
115 ; invasion, 4, 6, 26, 45 ; mosque,
Parthenon as, 97 ; pipes, 169; wed-
ding, 363.
Turks, Corinth, 272 ; on Acropolis,
95 ; unbaptized, 280.
Types of expression, 122, 123.
Unitarian Church, women ministers
of, 252.
Unity of Greek Church, 219.
University of Athens, 158, 159, 226,
234-
Ujek-Tepeh, 362, 363.
Vale of Tempe, 317, 320, 322, 327.
Valonia, 345.
Van Lennep, 35.
Vases, 247 ; as grave ornaments, 133.
Vathy, Ithaca, 62-68, 350 ; Sanios,
350-
Vegetable venders, 174.
Velestino, 319, 325,
Venders of small wares, 168-178.
Venetian supremacy, 4, 26, 41, 45^
95; architecture, 4, 29, 71, 74.
Venetians, Corinth, 272.
Victories leading a cow, 1 1 3.
Victory binding her sandal, 113; of
Paeonius, 293 ; of Samothrace, 293.
Vido, 13, 16, 21, 23, 71.
Village washing, 41.
Villages of Euboea, 338.
Villages, Troy, 366.
Vineyards, 27.
Virgin goddess, 203, conception of,
103; icons of, 216; Mary, image of
in Parthenon, 97 ; Mary, Parthenon
as church of, 103.
Virtues of the home, 198.
Vitruvius, 148, 149, 280, 281; state-
ment of, 144.
Vlachou, Miss Marigo, 235, 236.
INDEX
389
" Volksleben der Neugriechen," 211.
Volo, 317, 319, 320, 340; Bay of, 319.
Von Moltke, 362.
Votive tablets, 135.
Wagner, 106 ; at Bayreuth, 90.
Waldstein, Dr., 343.
Walls at Mycenae, 276; without
mortar, 257.
Wasliing, village, 41.
Washington, 156; Capitol, approach
to, 107; Monument, 329.
Wedding in Greek home, 140; pro-
cession, 190.
Weddings, 43.
Wheelbarrows, 198, 364.
Wheeler, Professor J. R., ix., 227.
Wheler, Spon and, 92.
White, Professor John Williams, ix.,
114, 145, 147.
Winckelmann, 291.
" Wine-dark sea," 262 ; wine-mer-
chants, 169 ; wine-shops, 168, 169.
' Wingless Victory," 113.
Wolters, Dr., x., 357.
Womanhood, idealization of, 203.
Wotnan's journal of Athens, 196.
Women as clerks, 170; as wage-
earners, 198; marketing, 170.
Women's work in Greece, 170;
gallery, Greek Church, 215.
Wooden Horse, 357.
Wooden structure, reminiscence of,
109, no.
Woodley, Alfred, 46, 47, 49, 53, 55.
Working-girls, help for, 250.
Workmen at Troy, 364.
Xenodocheion^ 290.
Xenophon, 231, 279, 285, 287.
Xenophon's " CEconomicus," 199,200*
Xenophontine Greek, 163.
Xerochori, 337.
Zakynthos, 70.
Zante, 54, 'j'j^ 82, 287, 289 ; currants,
49 70, 71, 81 ; earthquake, 4, 70-
86, 230; marriage customs, 183,
190, 191 ; natural formation of, 79;
Neachori, 75 ; poet, 237.
Zeus, 175, 233; altar of, 288; eagle
symbol of, 211; statue to, 168;
temple of, 289, 292 ; temple, Olym-
pia, 100, 102, 227, 351.
GREEK INDEX
*Ayv(iarT<f fte^^ 202.
*A<cp<)7roAi?, 163.
'AArjflis dve'o-JTj, 222.
dAefi^poxoi/, 231.
avafiaiyu), Kara/SaiVw, fig. uSC of, I49.
dpyvpoScVijSj 224.
dpTOTTuiATjSj 169.
'Ao-Tu, 163.
Xdpo5, 210.
Xat'pere, 63.
XeAiSoVi, 324.
Xopei'a, 141.
Xopeuco, 141.
XpiffTo? avearrf^ 222.
6aifi(i>^ 208.
Aei/ f^evpto, 280.
'H 'Ao-xiJM'? 'A6eA<^^, 1 92.
'H Koii'>) ri/wMI* 228.
'H Pa7rTo/u.i7xaj'^, 230.
^a, 174.
ifinopo^ 170.
ejTi <r/cijj'^?j I49
CTTi Tpane^Hi'. 149.
eroi/xa, 329.
Ew/aefifies, 208.
ew^Aoyia, 209.
*I5iwTicbf SxoAeioj', 234.
Kaipoij 163.
KaAiif opefii/^ 3^1
*ca:r.jAi/cds, 170.
xdmjAo?, 170.
KanvoviaXelov, 169.
KaOapa. Sevrepa^ 140.
/cepa/LioTTwAeioi', 169.
kAijtjjp, 176.
KOKKa\o0r]Kr)j 244.
Aeirra, 194.
AouTpo(/)dpo5 133.
ftaknTTa^ 341.
MapTupiKd, 194.
MeAeVrj eirl toO Btou twi' N6(i>Tep<i)V
'EAA^i/wi/j 211.
Moipai, 210.
covi'ds, 193, 194.
oJi/OTTwAr/Sj 169.
opxijCTTpa, 141.
jravoupyos, 63.
iraTraydAo lopaio, 235.
IIofijfAaTaj 230.
IIoAinj?, N, r,, 211.
iroAvdetpd;, 321.
Trpol/co, 183, 184, 198.
Tpoif, 183.
irpoJTvAoiaj 106.
'2 rd 5i<d (ra?j 18S.
(reAr}cid^O|xat, 209.
'S.etiovkiva^ 230.
(TTran'w? 185.
<rup4novia^ 1 85, 186.
Tpdve^a^ 170.
TvpojTulArjfj 169.
wparoc, 341.
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