Chapter 7

ATHENS AND THE ACROPOLIS.

The sun was just appearing in the east as we approached the seaport of the Grecian capital.

Through the mists of the dawning day we could make out dimly, ahead of us, only bleak bare hills. As the Moltke steamed through the straits we saw a lighthouse and a few buildings on the shore and over the low hill on our right the tops of masts; but when the vessel had entered through a narrow passage between the moles extending from either side, and had anchored in the centre of the well protected and commodious harbor of Piræus, we gazed on a scene of animation and activity. The bay was filled with shipping and the shore lined with warehouses where the stevedores were already busily engaged in lading or discharging cargoes. On each side of the Moltke, little more than a stone's throw away, lay gray battleships, cruisers, torpedo boats, destroyers, and other naval craft.

"What war vessels are those?" was the question asked eagerly by many passengers.

"The white flag with the blue St. Andrew's cross floating over that warship is the Russian national emblem," patiently replied one of the officers of our steamer, "and so I conclude that these vessels compose the Russian Mediterranean squadron."

A band on the flagship began to play and the Russian sailors in clean white suits were seen forming in lines on the decks of the vessels, evidently for inspection or morning roll-call. On the rigging above the sailors' heads, swaying in the breeze, were hundreds of white suits, washed and hung out to dry.

Soon fifty or more large row boats were plying around our steamer in readiness to convey us to the railroad station at the upper end of the harbor about a mile away. As we approached the shore in these boats we saw on the wharf at Piræus a motley crowd of dirty-handed, bare-footed, ill-clothed men and boys. It seemed as if all the idle and vagabond population of the city had assembled to lounge lazily in the sun, hoping, perhaps, to obtain some small coins from the tourists during the transfer from boat to cars. If this was their hope they were disappointed. All arrangements for the welfare of the Moltke tourists had been carefully made in advance, and, as there was no baggage to be carried, the services of the dirty-handed men were not required.

"Are these vagabonds and tramps the descendants of the noble Greeks whom we have honored all our lives?" sadly remarked a minister in our boat. "Can these be the offspring of the great orators who electrified their hearers, or of the famous architects and artists whose names are immortal? Are these swarthy-faced, plain-featured idlers the representatives of the Greek beauty of form and feature?"

In preparation for a visit to these historic shores we had filled our minds with tales of heroism and visions of the beautiful; now the sight of this bare-footed throng, so different from the pictures we had formed in our minds, was a severe shock to our imagination.

"These vagabonds do not represent the Greek race," responded another who had traveled in that country before; "they are merely the dregs of the people, a class that may be found in any large city and especially in the seaports."

The distance from Piræus to the city of Athens is but five miles. From the windows of the little cars we could see that the valley through which we passed was a succession of well cultivated fields, vineyards, and gardens. A white road, almost parallel to the railroad, traversed the valley. Gray-green trees in the distance indicated a district of olive orchards.

At a station on the outskirts of the city we left the train and followed an old guide to visit the Theseum, or Temple of Theseus, a large edifice built in simple Doric style. The plain columns and unadorned pediments express strength and simplicity rather than beauty. Notwithstanding the fact that twenty-four centuries have passed since its erection, this temple is noted as being the best preserved of all the ancient buildings of Greece. A short time, however, sufficed for a view of the plain exterior and an entrance into the gloomy interior.

Then proceeding along a fine modern road, built over the ruins of the ancient city, traces of which were seen in adjacent excavations, we passed, on our right, an open plateau on the rocks where an audience of eight or ten thousand might assemble. This was the Pynx of ancient times, a gathering place of the people. A flight of steps hewn in the stone at one side of this plateau leads up to a platform cut in the rock. From this rock, named the Platform of Demosthenes, great orators addressed the multitude, stirring their countrymen to deeds of valor. Beyond the Pynx, a cave with gates of rusty grated iron was pointed out as the prison in which the noble Socrates was incarcerated before being condemned to drink the fatal hemlock.

Farther up the slope the guide pointed to a small rock elevation on our left and said: "That is the Areopagus, or Mars Hill, from which the Apostle Paul made his appeal to the idolatrous Athenians. He probably ascended those sixteen steps that you see hewn in the rock. Where we are standing now, the people stood to listen. From that elevation Paul could view the avenues leading to the Acropolis, avenues adorned with statues in honor of gods and goddesses and famous heroes."

As we stood there, we could almost hear Paul's words:

"Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by, and beheld the gods that ye worship, I found an altar with this inscription, 'To the Unknown God.'--God dwelleth not in temples made with hands.--We ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device." The altar to the unknown god to which Paul referred may have been one of the many altars within sight of the elevation on which he stood.

After we left Mars Hill a few minutes' walk brought us to the foot of a long flight of ruined steps, at the top of which stood broken marble columns. Before us was the Acropolis, the highest point of the city, a rocky eminence with inaccessible cliffs on three sides. The only approach to its summit, which is about two hundred feet above the level of the modern city, is on the southwest side, being reached by the avenues we had followed up the gradual slope past Mars Hill.

"On this height," said the guide, "the Athenians, during the reign of Pericles in the golden age of Greece, erected a temple to their patron deity, Minerva, the goddess of wisdom. And to this goddess, named also Athena, who, as they asserted, sprang from the brain of Jupiter a mature woman in complete armor, they looked for protection. For her they offered their choicest gifts, yet they did not neglect the multitude of other gods whom they feared to offend."

The old guide was well informed, but his English was rather difficult to understand. He was interrupted a number of times until one of the tourists, a college professor, undertook the task of assisting him in the story.

"These dilapidated stone steps," said the professor, "formed once the magnificent marble staircase that led to the gateway of the Acropolis. The staircase was seventy feet in width; in the centre was a sloping carriageway up which chariots could be driven. It was built by Pericles four hundred years before the Christian era. Statues of wonderful beauty, by famous sculptors, were arranged along the steps. At times of great rejoicing, as after a victory, triumphal processions ascended these flights to present offerings to the gods, or to deposit in the treasury of the temple the spoils taken from their enemies and to offer sacrifices and worship to their protecting goddess. The Propylæa, or grand entrance hall and gateway to the Acropolis, stood at the head of the stairway; these broken columns are all that remain of one of the most imposing structures of that golden age."

"Keep close to the professor and never mind the guide," urged one of our companions. We followed her suggestion.

"This small building on our right with four graceful Ionic columns in front," continued the professor, "is the Temple of the Wingless Victory, so called because it was erected by the Athenians in honor of Nike, the goddess of Victory. The statue of Nike which they placed within the temple, bore in her hand the palm of victory and upheld the wreath of laurel, but lacked the customary wings. The Athenians hoped that without wings victory might never depart from the shores of Greece."

"The building to our left," said the professor as we moved on, "was named the Erechtheum after the Attic hero Erechtheus, and once contained a seated figure of the goddess Athena. These six gigantic statues of women upholding the cornice of the porch are the Caryatides and deserve a careful examination; for, although carefully prepared casts of the Caryatides may be seen in some of the large museums, no cast can be a perfect representation of the original. One of these figures, as you may easily see, is only a copy, the original having been carried away to England by Lord Elgin and given to the British Museum. The marble columns on the other side of the Erechtheum are considered the best examples in existence of the Ionic style of architecture."

Near the Erechtheum we passed the foundation on which had stood a colossal bronze figure of Athena, sixty feet in height, holding in her hand a spear tipped with gold, the point of which could be seen by the ancient mariners far out at sea. Making our way across the summit of the Acropolis around pieces of broken columns, trampling over fragments of decorations, and passing foundations of missing statues, we stood in front of the Parthenon, the temple which had been erected to the patron deity of the Athenians. We thought that the professor might weary of answering questions, but he seemed glad to voice the thoughts that were arising in his mind.

"In the harmonious proportions of this stately edifice," he said, "the peerless genius of the architect Ictinus, who designed the structure, is revealed, and in the delicate finish of the smallest details of the sculptured work, the wonderful skill of the artists who carried out the master's design is shown. We hardly know which to admire more, the matchless genius of the designer, or the marvelous skill of the artists. Our poet Emerson truly says:

"Earth proudly wears the Parthenon As the best gem upon her throne."

During a pause for critical examination of the front of the temple, the amateur photographers of the party placed their cameras in position.

"Place a group of people in the foreground," suggested the professor. "You see that the marble steps are nearly two feet in height, and without some object for comparison, these steps in a picture will appear to be only of ordinary size, thus an adequate idea of the size of the temple will not be given. When you see any picture of the Parthenon notice the truth of my suggestion.

"There were, as you see at this end now," continued our instructor, "eight white marble columns at each end and seventeen columns along each side. The columns on the sides are mostly broken now or altogether gone, and the color has changed from white to this soft golden yellow tint. The carved marble frieze, which, over five hundred feet in length, extended around the building, was the work of Phidias and has never been surpassed in beauty by any sculpture of the kind in the world. And these fluted columns are, in grace and proportion, the noblest examples of the Doric style of architecture."

"But, in the interior," said the professor, becoming more enthusiastic, "surrounded by statues and works of art in marble, bronze, ebony, ivory, and gold, stood the crowning glory of the Parthenon, the famous colossal statue of the goddess Athena Parthenos, Athena the Virgin, forty feet in height, made of ivory and gold under the direction of Phidias. The Caryatides as we looked at them awhile ago appeared gigantic in size, but they are only eight feet in height. The height of the statue of Athena was equal to five Caryatides one above the other. Let me read you the description of the statue by an old Greek historian, Pausanias."

The professor, drawing a note book from his pocket, read as follows: "The image itself is made of ivory and gold. Its helmet is surmounted in the middle by the figure of a sphinx, and on either side of the helmet are griffins wrought in relief. The image of Athena stands upright, clad in a garment that reaches to her feet; on her breast is the head of Medusa wrought in ivory. She holds a Victory about four cubits high in one hand, and in the other hand a spear. At her feet lies a shield, and near the spear is a serpent."

"The Victory referred to by Pausanias," said the professor, replacing his note book, "was an image of the goddess of Victory half the height of the Caryatides, which we refer to for comparison. The size of the statue held in Athena's hand helps us to realize the height of the colossal figure."

"The Parthenon contained also a treasury in which the Athenians deposited the immense treasures and spoils taken from their enemies. In the course of centuries, however, the growing wealth and power of Athens incurred the jealousy and wrath of other nations. The city was conquered and ravaged many times. The Persians ingloriously failed in their attempt, but the Romans, victorious under Nero, despoiled this temple and carried away hundreds of bronze statues and works of art to grace the Emperor's triumphal entry into Rome. Other Roman conquerors, following Nero's example, exhibited to the applauding multitudes in the streets of Rome long trains of spoils, consisting of the rarest paintings, ornaments, and bronzes torn from the Parthenon. Goths, Normans, Franks, Venetians, and Vandals successively plundered the city, stripping away the decorations of gold and silver from columns and walls, and breaking from their foundations the statues that adorned the plateau of the Acropolis. The Turks carried off shiploads of marble and bronzes to Constantinople. England also enriched the British Museum with many choice marbles from the Acropolis--to preserve them, Lord Elgin explained."

The professor paused for a moment and his hearers made use of the time to express some very decided opinions with reference to Lord Elgin.

"But the culminating disaster to the Parthenon occurred in the year 1687," continued the professor, resuming his story with as much sadness in his voice as if the disaster had been a personal loss. "Greece was then under the rule of the Sultan, and the Parthenon was used by his army as a powder magazine. The Venetians at war with the Turks, besieging Athens, bombarded the city. A shell descended into the Parthenon, and in a moment's time the most magnificent architectural structure of ancient times, the pride of centuries, lay shattered in the ruins we see before us."

"The Parthenon in twenty-four centuries has seen many religious changes. Built first as a temple of idolatry, it became under the Romans a Roman Catholic Cathedral, under the Greeks again a Greek Christian Church, and then under the Sultan's rule a Mohammedan Mosque."

The professor wished to apologize for detaining us with the length of his explanations but he was overwhelmed with expressions of appreciation for his kindness.

"Why," said one of the tourists, "we have sailed half way around the world to see these ruins, and yet some of us have so neglected history and mythology that, we are ashamed to say, our knowledge of the history of Greece and the stories of its heroes is extremely limited. I am indeed grateful and trust that you will be patient with our ignorance."

After walking through the small museum on the Acropolis where a number of interesting relics are on exhibition, we lingered awhile on a little platform at the northeast corner of the Acropolis from which an excellent view of the city may be obtained. As seen from this view-point the predominating color of the city is yellow. The buildings erected of stone, and plastered or frescoed, are white, or yellow, or light pink, or combinations of yellow and white, and the roofs appear to be covered with yellow tiles. Below us to the right we saw the ruined columns of the Temple of Jupiter, and the white palace and the royal gardens of the king. Across the valley beyond the city we could see the prominent steep rock named Lycabettus with the chapel of St. George on the summit, and ten miles away we could make out dimly Mt. Pentelicus, from which all the white marble for the temples was quarried, and Mt. Hymettus, in a region noted for the excellent quality of its honey.

Descending from the heights of the Acropolis we entered the ruins of the Odeon of Herodus Atticus which lay at the base of the Acropolis. This theatre had a stone floor, a stone stage, and tiers of stone seats capable of seating an audience of six thousand, and was covered with a cedar roof. Now the roof is completely gone and the seats are in partial ruin. Beyond this smaller theatre are the ruins of a larger one called the Theatre of Bacchus. Here the masterpieces of Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, in the golden days of Grecian glory, gave delight to great audiences. This theatre, accommodating thirty thousand spectators, contained a semi-circle of marble seats built up against the cliff of the Acropolis, and was open to the sky. The large stage was built of marble and the front of it was carved with grotesque figures. The lower tiers of seats nearest the stage were marble chairs reserved for priests and other dignitaries. The names of the men who occupied the chairs were carved in the marble, and some of these names are yet visible. While resting for a short time in these official chairs, we tried to imagine that we were viewing on the marble stage the performance of an old Greek tragedy by actors in the graceful flowing robes of those ancient times. A few minutes later we were grouped at the side of the columns which are all that remain of the glory of the Temple of Jupiter.

The professor, responding to our request for information, said: "The Olympieum was the Temple erected in honor of Zeus, the supreme deity of the Greeks. As the Roman name for the supreme deity was Jupiter or Jove, the temple was called the Temple of Zeus by the Greeks, and the Temple of Jupiter by the Romans. The Athenians began the construction of the edifice two centuries before the birth of Christ, but the work was interrupted by wars and lack of funds and remained unfinished for three hundred years. Then the Roman Emperor Hadrian, having conquered Greece, completed the work and claimed for himself all the honor and glory for the erection of the temple. The Temple of Zeus, next to that erected to Diana by the Ephesians, was the largest of the temples of antiquity. It was built in the Corinthian style of architecture and had a triple row of eight columns each at the ends, and a double row of twenty columns each at the sides. Now you see only these fifteen huge columns remaining. In the interior of the temple was a colossal statue of Jupiter overlaid with ivory and gold. Beside the statue of the god stood a companion figure of equal size representing the Emperor Hadrian. The grounds around the temple were filled by Hadrian with hundreds of statues, many of which represented himself."

Carriages which had been ordered by the managers of the excursion awaited here to take us rapidly to other points of interest. As we crossed a bridge over a little stream on our way to the Stadium, the guide said: "This river appears small, perhaps, in your eyes, but it is great in the history and legends of Greece. It is the river Ilissus."

"The Stadium," said the professor as we entered the structure, "is the immense athletic field of Athens. It was constructed about the year 350 B.C. Five hundred years later the sixty tiers of seats capable of seating fifty thousand spectators were covered with white marble. Centuries afterwards in evil times athletic sports were neglected, the place fell into disuse, and the marble was converted into lime. In modern times the Stadium has been restored, perhaps not so large as before, and again the tiers of seats have been covered with white marble. In international athletic contests held in the restored Stadium, Americans have competed successfully for the laurel crown."

Leaving the Stadium, we drove around the Royal Gardens through streets shaded by graceful pepper trees, caught glimpses of palms, orange, and ornamental trees within the gardens, and stopped a few minutes in front of the extensive white marble palace of the king. As we passed through the residential portion of the city we were impressed with the cleanliness of the well swept streets and with the purity of the soft creamy yellow and pink colorings of the buildings. Fortunately we saw no great manufacturing establishments belching forth volumes of blackening smoke to soil these delicate shades.

We halted before the University, a majestic building occupying a block on a wide boulevard, and before the Academy of Science, another large white marble edifice adjoining the University, a building much more elaborate than its neighbor, with Ionic porticoes, a facade enlivened by bright coloring and gilding, and pediments adorned with statues.

"What odd-looking costumes those men wear. They look like ballet girls arrayed for the stage," said one of the ladies in our carriage, pointing to a group on the sidewalk. The men wore tights, low shoes with pompons on the toes, black garters with tassels, blue jackets ornamented with many brass buttons, red skull caps with large black tassels, and very full skirts. The guide said that these men were soldiers of the king's guard and though their uniforms might appear peculiar to our eyes they did not seem more strange than the tartans of Scotch Highlanders were to the Greeks. The king's guard, he told us, is composed of men from the mountain regions of Greece, who dress in the ancient military costume of that section. The uniforms of the regular Greek soldiers are very similar to those worn by the soldiers of our own country. The officers we met were handsome men and especially well uniformed. The well-to-do and middle class Athenian people whom we saw on the streets were dressed in modern English style.

The National Archæological Museum has a valuable collection of antiquities that would require much time for examination. Perhaps the most interesting to us were the old tombs from Mycenæ with their resurrected contents of skeletons, gold masques, ornaments, and weapons; the reduced copy of the gold and ivory statue of Athena Parthenos; the marble figure of a man in stooping position lately found in the sea; the statue of the god Hermes; and the large and beautiful vases recovered from the excavations. On the vases scenes of ancient Greek life or legend were represented.

"It was a pastoral scene of love-making carved on a Grecian vase that inspired the poet Keats to write his noted poem, 'Ode on a Grecian Urn,'" said one of our friends. "Let me tell you my favorite stanza," and, with an eloquence that brought out their meaning, she repeated the beautiful lines:

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

On both days while in Athens we lunched at one of the hotels facing Constitution Square and ate of the delicious honey from Mt. Hymettus, returning to the Moltke in the harbor in time to have a late dinner and to spend the night. In the public park in front of the hotel the trees were laden with oranges. Beyond the park through the green foliage could be seen the white palace of the king.

While rambling through the streets we saw a funeral procession. First came many banners and symbols of the Greek Church, carried by church officials; then followed the casket borne by men, the casket open and the pale face of the dead exposed to the gaze of the onlookers; a man came next carrying the lid of the coffin filled with flowers; then priests in black robes, men and women in black, and girls in white holding wreaths and flowers. The people along the way removed their hats and crossed themselves, muttering prayers as the procession passed by.

The modern religion of Greece is that of the Greek church, a religion of many ceremonies. The priests, long-haired, heavy-bearded men, wear long flowing black robes and black hats resembling our silk dress hats turned upside down with the brim at the top. They, the guide informed us, are men of influence; their hands are kissed by their people; their advice is sought, and their opinions received with deference by the members of their church.

The stores for the sale of candles to be burned on ceremonial occasions made an interesting display. There were candles of all sizes, ranging from six feet in height, beautifully decorated, which only the wealthy could afford, down to the small unadorned dip that the smallest coin might purchase.

"These candles," said the guide while we were pricing some of the decorated ones, "are used for the rejoicings at baptisms, at the festivities on wedding occasions, and for lightening the gloom around the caskets of the dead. They are given as penance to the church, or as votive offerings to brighten the altars of the Virgin or patron saints."

Eikons, the sacred memorials which the Greek Christians hang in their homes, representing the Virgin Mary holding the infant Christ in her arms, were also for sale in great numbers. Some of these were merely painted boards or silvered or gilded metal; others were of expensive material, incrusted with jewels. In all the Eikons, either cheap or dear, the painted faces and heads of the Virgin and child were visible through openings in the metal or board.

"At Easter time," said one of the dealers in ecclesiastical wares, "we sell thousands of candles for the great midnight celebration of the lighting of the candles. Just as the Easter day is ushered in, the Patriarch from his platform makes the announcement, 'Christ is risen.' The people repeat it over and over, the candles are lighted, then raised and lowered three times in honor of the Trinity, and we return to our homes to break the three days' fast by a feast of rejoicing."

When returning from the wharf to the steamer in the evening some of the tourists were conveyed in a tug and others in row boats. The oarsmen to save the labor of rowing cast their lines to the tug and the dancing of the little boats on the waves as they were drawn swiftly down the bay in the wake of the larger craft caused some anxiety on the part of the more timid of the occupants.

On the evening of Tuesday, the twenty-fourth of February, just as the silver-toned bells on the Russian warships were telling the hour of five, the anchor of the Moltke was drawn up and the vessel almost imperceptibly moved around and headed for the narrow outlet between the breakwaters. As we slowly steamed away from the Russian vessels, our band played the Russian national hymn and the Russian flag was elevated to the top of the Moltke's mast in a farewell salutation. Immediately the crowds of Russian sailors on the warships removed their hats and remained bareheaded until the music ceased. Then, in response, the Russian band played our national hymn, and as we sailed away, the strains of the music became fainter and fainter until they died away in the distance.

Looking backward after leaving the harbor we saw clearly defined, in the golden evening light, the towering Acropolis and the Parthenon crowning its summit, and, as we sailed away from the city which was once the centre of culture, refinement, and wealth, we tried to recall the stories of her glorious past. The figures of legend, myth, and history,--mighty warriors, celebrated heroes, eloquent orators, illustrious painters, renowned architects, great historians, immortal poets, and wonderful deities; Spartan mothers, Thermopylæ defenders, and Persian invaders; beautiful Helen, muscular Hercules, crusty Diogenes, deformed Æsop, silver-tongued Demosthenes, fleet-footed Mercury, drunken Silenus, stately Juno, and lovely Venus,--a confused procession of mortals and immortals rushed across the brain.

"Look," said the professor with note book in hand interrupting our dreams of the past, "that strait to the left behind us is the entrance to the bay of Salamis where the Persian fleet of one thousand sail encountered the smaller fleet of only three hundred Grecian vessels in the year 480 B.C. The rocky brow of the hill on the farther side of the strait is the place where the haughty Xerxes sat in his silver-footed chair to gloat over the expected annihilation of Greek power. I want to read to you, before we go to our evening meal, the vivid description of the conflict from the tragedy of 'The Persians.' It was written by the poet Eschylus, who himself was one of the heroes in the fight."