Part 6

In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevaïdes, who had been very helpful to Dr. Howe and myself on the occasion of our visit to Athens in 1867. This gentleman was one of the first to greet my daughter and myself, when she, for the first, and I, for the second time, arrived in Athens. It was from him that we heard of the court ball just mentioned, and through him that we received the cards enabling us to attend it. I had given Mr. Paraskevaïdes a copy of the _Woman's Journal_, published in Boston, containing a letter of mine describing a recent visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. Our friend called at the palace to speak of my presence in Athens to the proper authorities, and by chance encountered the Queen as she was stepping into her carriage for a drive. He told her that the widow and daughter of Dr. Howe would attend the evening's ball. She asked what he held in his hand. "A paper, printed in Boston, containing a letter written by Mrs. Howe." "Lend it to me," said the Queen. "I wish to read Mrs. Howe's letter." Thus it was that the Queen was able to greet me with so pleasant a mark of interest.

The King and Queen withdrew just before supper was announced, which was very considerate on their part; for, as royal personages may not eat with others, we could not have had our supper if they had not taken theirs elsewhere. We were then escorted to the banquet hall, where were spread a number of tables, at which the guests stood, and regaled themselves with such customary viands as cold chicken, salad, sandwiches, ices, and fruit. All of the usual wines were served in profusion, with nice black coffee to keep people awake for the German, or, as it is called in Europe, the _cotillon_. And presently we marched back to the ball-room, and the sovereigns re-appeared. The _Germanites_ took chairs, the chaperons kept their modest distance, and the thing that hath no end began, the Queen making the first loop in the mazy weaving of the dance. The next thing that I remember was, three o'clock in the morning, a sleepy drive in a carriage, and the talk that you always hear going home from a party. Now, I ask, was not this orthodox?

This being the gay season of the year, we were present at various festivities whose elegance would have done honor to London or Paris. I particularly remember, among these, a fancy ball at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Zyngros. Our hostess was a beautiful woman, and looked every inch a queen, as she stood at the head of her stately marble stairway, in the gold and crimson costume of Catherine de Medici. The ball-room was thronged with Spanish gipsies, Elizabethan nobles, harlequins, Arcadian shepherds, and Greek peasants. I may also mention another ball, at which a band of maskers made their appearance, splendidly attired, and voluble with the squeaking tone which usually accompanies a mask. The master and mistress of the house were prepared for this interruption, which added greatly to the gaiety of the occasion.

I have given a little outline of these gay doings, in order that you may know that the modern Athens is entitled to boast that she possesses all the appliances of civilization. Now let me say a few words of things more interesting to people of thoughtful minds.

I remember with great pleasure an evening passed beneath the roof of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. Well known as is Dr. Schliemann by reputation, it is less generally known that his wife, a Greek woman, has had very much to do with both his studies and the success of his excavations. She is considered in Greece a woman of unusual culture, being well versed in the ancient literature of her country. I was present once at a lecture which she gave in London, before the Royal Historical Society. At the close of the lecture, Lord Talbot de Malahide announced that Mrs. Schliemann had been elected a member of the society. The Duke of Argyll was present on this occasion, and among those who commented upon the opinions advanced in the lecture was Mr. Gladstone. Mrs. Schliemann, however, bears her honors very modestly, and is a charming hostess, gracious and friendly, thoroughly liked and esteemed in this her native country, and elsewhere.

The _soirée_ at Mrs. Schliemann's was merely a conventional reception, with dancing to the music of a pianoforte. We were informed that our hostess was suffering from the fatigues undergone in assisting her husband's labors, and that the music and dancing were introduced to spare her the strain of overmuch conversation. She was able, however, to receive morning visitors on one day of every week, and I took advantage of this opportunity to see her again. I spoke of her little boy, a child of two years, who had been pointed out to me in the Park, by my friend Paraskevaïdes. He bore the grandiose name of Agamemnon. Presently we heard the voice of a child below stairs, and Mrs. Schliemann said: "That is my baby; he has just come in with his nurse." I asked that we might see him, and the nurse brought him into the drawing-room. At sight of us, he began to kick and scream. Wishing to soothe him, I said: "Poor little Agamemnon!" Mrs. Schliemann rejoined: "I say, nasty little Agamemnon!"

Is it to be supposed that I entered and left Athens without uttering the cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like _Miss Flyte_, in "Bleak House," for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment."

It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid thus afforded, to earn their own support.

Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms, the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton fabrics, and serviceable carpets.

In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth of Lord Byron's lines:--

The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea.

This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands, but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of some three hours brought us to the spot.

A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle; a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic sunlight--this is what we saw at Marathon.

Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all heroic deeds have a fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes extinct.

Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the function assigned it in our own.

The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not, as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas characterize for us the _morale_ of that ancient community. They expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:--

Himself from God he could not free.

How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,--that a certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people had no god left to pray to.

In the city of the Cæsars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury. The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the state, to which their church was in great measure subservient. The statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force, column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln.

Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of _bric-à-brac_, bits of color, an unexpected shimmer here and there--such are the favorite aspects of art with us.

In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection.

We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with reverent appreciation, and behold in them a record of the naïve and simple faith of a great people.

If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama?

Sit down with me before this palace of OEdipus, whose façade is the only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the plot.

Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic" play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The _dénouement_ will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and such vice! How shall we be sure which is which?

During this visit, I had an interview which brought me face to face with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule.

I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michælis, the youngest of the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others. Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years, and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French, setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:--

MADAM,--

We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by the ties of gratitude.

The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:--

MY DEAR SIR,--

I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of Crete. Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island, [Greek] tên eleutherian tês Krêtês.

A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:--

The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821, and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek, to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her the voice of her heart.

I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just described.

Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air, would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take place, is an ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the unclassic railway furnished our conveyance.

The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a short time,--some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour, after which interval, dinner was announced.

Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right sat Katzi Michælis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevaïdes, the giver of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup was served,--quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern _entremets_ followed, and then, as _pièce de résistance_, the lambs, with accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting his first glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance to the master of the feast.

The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs. Howe. Mr. Paraskevaïdes drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French, with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only say that I did as well as I was able.

At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to acknowledge the compliment in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:--

I greet the warriors of brave Crete Assembled in this place. Each of them represents her mountains, Each her heart, each her breath. If life may be measured by struggles, So great is her life, That on the day when she becomes free Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom.

The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards, resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest--Korakas, Kriaris, and Syphacus--spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded.

When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company, "Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were her father's companions in arms."

After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens, seemed a return to the commonplace.

A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents, without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox. It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies. The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood.

The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went on, making converts from time to time, and supplying certainly a direct and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which their national existence has been preserved.