Is Polite Society Polite? Part 5

My first visit to Athens was in the year 1867. The Cretans were at this time engaged in an energetic struggle for their freedom, and my husband was the bearer of certain funds which he and others had collected in America for the relief of the dest.i.tute families of the insurgents. A part of this money was employed in sending provisions to the Island of Crete, where the women and children had taken refuge in the fortresses of the mountains, subject to great privations, and in danger of absolute starvation.

With the remainder of the fund, schools were endowed in Athens for the children of the Cretan refugees. My husband's efforts were seconded by an able Greek committee; and when, at the close of his labors, he turned his face homeward, he was followed by the prayers and thanksgivings of those whose miseries he had been enabled to relieve.

Nearly ten years later than the time just spoken of, I again threaded my way between the isles of Greece and arrived at the Piraeus, the ancient port of Athens. A railway now connects these two points; but on this occasion, we did not avail ourselves of it, preferring to take a carriage for the short distance.

In approaching Athens for the second time, my first surprise was to find that it had grown to nearly double the size which I remembered ten years before. The cleanly, thrifty, and cheerful aspect of the city presented the greatest contrast to the squalor and filth of Constantinople, which I had just left. The perfect blue of the heavens brought out in fine effect the white marble of the new buildings, some of which are costly and even magnificent. Yet there, in full sight, towering above everything else, stood the unattainable beauty, the unequalled, unrivalled Parthenon.

I made several pilgrimages to the Acropolis, eager to revive my recollection respecting the design and history of its various monuments.

I listened again and again to the statements of well-read archaeologists concerning the uses of the temples, the positions of the statues and bas-reliefs, the hundred gates, and the triumphal road which led up to the height crowned with glories.

But while I gave ear to what is more easily forgotten than remembered,--the story of the long-vanished past,--my eyes received the impression of a beauty that cannot perish. I did not say to the Parthenon: Thou _wert_, but, Thou _art_ so beautiful, in thy perfect proportion, in thy fine workmans.h.i.+p!

What silver chisel turned the tender leaves of this marble foliage? Here is a little bit, a yard or so, which has escaped the gnawing of the elements, lying turned away from the course of the winds and rains! No king of to-day, in building his palace, can order such a piece of work.

Artist he can find none to equal it. And I am proud to say that no king nor millionaire to-day can buy this, or any other fragment belonging to this sacred spot. What England took before Greece became a power again, she may keep, because the British Museum is a treasure-house for the world. But she will never repeat the theft: she is too wise to-day.

Christendom is too wise, and the Greeks have learned the value of what they still possess.

At the Acropolis, the theatre of Bacchus had been excavated a short time before my previous visit. Near it they have now brought to light the temple of aesculapius. This temple, with the theatre of Bacchus and that of Herodius Atticus, occupies the base of the Acropolis, on the side that looks toward the sea.

As one stands in the light of the perfect sky, discerning in the distance that perfect sea, something of the cheerfulness of the ancient Greeks makes itself felt, seems to pervade the landscape. Descending to the theatre of Bacchus, the visitor may call up in his mind the vision of the high feast of mirth and hilarity. Here was the stage; here are, still entire, the marble seats occupied by the priests and other high dignitaries, with one or two interesting bas-reliefs of the G.o.d.

When I visited Greece in 1867, I found no proper museum containing the precious fragments and works of art still left to the much-plundered country. Some of these were preserved in the Theseion, a fine temple well known to many by engravings. They were, however, very ill-arranged, and could not be seen with comfort. I now found all my old favorites and many others enshrined in the three museums which had been added to the city during my absence.

One of them is called the Barbakion. It contains, among other things, a number of very ancient vases, on one of which the soul is represented by a female figure with wings. Among these vases is a series relating to family events, one showing a funeral, one a nativity, while two others commemorate a bridal occasion. In one of these last, the bride sits holding Eros in her arms, while her attendants present the wedding gifts; in the other, moves the bridal procession, accompanied by music.

Here are preserved many small figures in clay, commonly spoken of in Greece as the Tanagra dolls. A fine collection of these has been given to the Boston Art Museum by a well-known patron of all arts, the late Thomas G. Appleton. Here we saw a cremating pot of bronze, containing the charred remains of a human body. I afterwards saw--at the Keramika, an ancient cemetery--the stone vase from which this pot was taken.

Among the objects shown at this museum was a beautiful set of gold jewelry found in the cemetery just mentioned. It consisted of armlets, bracelets, ear-rings, and a number of finger-rings, among which was one of the coiled serpents so much in vogue to-day. I found here some curious flat-bottomed pitchers, with a c.o.c.ked-hat cover nicely fitted on. This Greek device may have supplied the pattern for the first c.o.c.ked hat,--Dr. Holmes has told us about the last.

But nothing in this collection impressed me more than did an ancient mask cast from a dead face. This mask had lately been made to serve as a matrix; and a plaster cast, newly taken from it, gave us clearly the features and expression of the countenance, which was removed from us by aeons of time.

A second museum is that built at the Acropolis, which contains many fragments of sculpture, among which I recognized a fine bas-relief representing three women carrying water-jars, and a small figure of wingless Victory, both of which I had seen twelve years before, exposed to the elements.

But the princ.i.p.al museum of the city, a fine building of dazzling white marble, is the patriotic gift of a wealthy Greek, who devoted to this object a great part of his large fortune. In this building are arranged a number of the ancient treasures brought to light through the persevering labors of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. As the doctor has published a work giving a detailed account of these articles, I will mention only a few of them.

Very curious in form are the gold cups found in the treasury of Agamemnon. They are shaped a little like a flat champagne gla.s.s, but do not expand at the base, standing somewhat insecurely upon the termination of their stems. Here, too, are masks of thin beaten gold, which have been laid upon the faces of the dead. Rings, ear-rings, brooches, and necklaces there are in great variety; among the first, two gold signet rings of marked beauty. I remember, also, several sets of ornaments, resembling b.u.t.tons, in gold and enamel.

From the main building, we pa.s.sed into a fine gallery filled with sculptures, many of which are monumental in character. I will here introduce two pages from my diary, written almost on the spot:--

Nothing that I have seen in Athens or elsewhere impresses me like the Greek marbles which I saw yesterday in the museum, most of which have been found and gathered since my visit in 1867. A single monumental slab had then been excavated, which, with the help of Pausanias, identified the site of the ancient Keramika, a place of burial. Here have been found many tombs adorned with bas-reliefs, with a number of vases and several statues. How fortunate has been the concealment of these works of art until our time, by which, escaping Roman rapacity and Turkish barbarism, they have survived the wreck of ages, to show us, to-day, the spirit of family life among the ancient Greeks! Italy herself possesses no Greek relics equal in this respect to those which I contemplated yesterday. For any student of art or of history, it is worth crossing the ocean and encountering all fatigues to read this imperishable record of human sentiment and relation; for while the works of ancient art already familiar to the public show us the artistic power and the sense of beauty with which this people were so marvellously endowed, these marbles make evident the feelings with which they regarded their dead.

Perhaps the first lesson one draws from their contemplation is the eternity, so to speak, of the family affections. No words nor work have ever portrayed a regard more tender than is shown in these family groups, in which the person about to depart is represented in a sitting posture, while his nearest friends or relatives stand near, expressing in their countenances and action the sorrow and pathos of the final separation. Here an aged father gives the last blessing to the son who survives and mourns him. Here a dying mother reclines, surrounded by a group of friends, one of whom bears in her arms the infant whose birth, presumably, cost the mother her life. Two other slabs represent partings between a mother and her child. In one of these the young daughter holds to her bosom a dove, in token of the innocence of her tender age. In the other, the mother is bending over the daughter with a sweet, sad seriousness. Other groups show the parting of husband and wife, friend from friend; and I now recall one of these in which the expression of the clasped hands of two individuals excels in tenderness anything that I have ever seen in paint or marble. The Greeks, usually so reserved in their portrayal of nature, seem in these instances to have laid aside the calm cloak of restraint which elsewhere enwrapped them, in order to give permanent expression to the tender and beautiful a.s.sociations which hallow death.

TWO DRAMAS

In the Bacchus theatre, With the wreck of countless years, The thought of the ancient jollity Moved me almost to tears.

Bacchus, the G.o.d who brightens life With sudden, rosy gleam, Lighting the h.o.a.ry face of Age With Youth's surpa.s.sing dream,

The tide that swells the human heart With inspiration high, Ebbing and sinking at sunset fall To dim eternity.

In the halls where treasured lie The monumental stones That stood where men no longer leave The mockery of their bones,

Why did I smile at the marble griefs Who wept for the bygone joy?

Within that sorrow dwells a good That Time can ne'er destroy.

Th' immortal depths of sympathy All measurements transcend, And in man's living marble seal The love he bears his friend.

It would take me long to tell how much Athens has been enriched by the munificence of her wealthy merchants, whose shrewdness and skill in trade are known all over the world. Of some of these, dying abroad, the words may well be quoted: "_Moriens reminiscitur Argos_," as they have bequeathed for the benefit of their beloved city the sums of money which have a permanent representation in the public buildings I have mentioned, and many others. Better still than this, a number of individuals of this cla.s.s have returned to Greece, to end their days beneath their native skies, and the social resources of the metropolis are enlarged by their presence.

This leads us to what may interest many more than statements concerning buildings and antiquities,--the social aspect of Athens.

The court and high society, or what is called such, asks our first attention. The royal palace, a very fine one, was built by King Otho.

The present King and Queen are very simple in their tastes. One meets them walking among the ruins and elsewhere in plain dress, with no other escort than a large dog. The visit which I now describe took place in Carnival time, and we heard, on our arrival, of a court ball, for which we soon received cards. We were admonished by the proper parties to come to the palace before nine o'clock, in order that we might be in the ball-room before the entrance of the King and Queen. We repaired thither accordingly, and, pa.s.sing through a hall lined with officials and servants in livery, ascended the grand staircase, and were soon in a very elegant ball-room, well filled with a creditable _beau monde_. The servants of the palace all wore Palikari costume,--the white skirt and full-sleeved s.h.i.+rt, with embroidered vest and leggings. The ladies present were attired with a due regard for Paris in general, and for Worth in particular. The gentlemen were either in uniform, or in that inexpressibly sleek and mournful costume which is called "evening dress."

We were presently introduced to the maids of honor, one of whom bore the historic name of Kolokotronis. They were dressed in white, and wore badges on which the crown and the King's initial letter were wrought in small brilliants. Many of the ladies displayed beautiful diamonds.

Presently a hush fell on the rapidly talking a.s.sembly. People ranged themselves in a large circle, and the sovereigns entered. The Queen wore a dress of white tulle embroidered with red over white silk, and a garland of flowers in which the same color predominated. Her corsage was adorned with knots of diamonds and rubies, and she wore a complete _parure_ of the same costly stones. Their majesties made the round of the circle. We, as strangers, were at once presented to the Queen, who with great affability said to me: "I hear that you have been in Egypt, and that your daughter ascended the great Pyramid." I made as low a courtesy as was consistent with my dignity as president of a number of clubs. One or two further remarks were interchanged, and the lovely, gracious blonde moved on.

When the presentations and salutations were over, the royal pair proceeded to open the ball, having each some high and mighty partner for the first _contredanse_. The Queen is very fond of dancing, and is happier than some other queens in being allowed to waltz to her heart's content.

There were at the ball three of our fellow-countrymen who could dance.

Two of them wore the uniform of our navy, and had kept it very fresh and brilliant. These Terpsich.o.r.ean gentlemen were matched by three ladies well versed in the tactics of the German. Suddenly a swanlike, circling movement began to distinguish itself from the quick, hopping, German waltz which prevails everywhere in Europe. People looked on with surprise, which soon brightened into admiration. And if any one had said to me: "What is that, mother?" I should have replied: "The Boston, my child."

Lest the Queen's familiarity with my movements should be thought to imply some previous acquaintance between us, I must venture a few words of explanation.

In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevades, 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. Paraskevades 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 n.o.bles, 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 ent.i.tled 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 pa.s.sed 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 _soiree_ 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 a.s.sisting 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 Paraskevades. 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. Wis.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sociation." 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 a.s.sociation 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.