Chapter XVI: Mediæval Greece (2)

Yet here are large companies of men, who have given up the world to live on hard fare and strict rule, spending days and nights in the service of God, and resigning the ordinary pleasures and distractions of the world. Surely here there must be some strong impulse, some living faith which sways so many lives. And yet after long and anxious searching for some spiritual life, after hours spent in watching the prayers and austerities of the monks, we could not but come to the conclusion that here was no real religion; that it was a mountain, if not a valley, “full of dry bones, and, behold, they were very dry.”

It is of course very hazardous for a stranger to assert a negative; there may be, even in this cold and barren ritual, some real breath of spiritual life, and some examples of men who serve God in spirit and in truth. But the general impression, as compared with that of any Western religion—Roman Catholic, Protestant, Unitarian—is not favorable. Very possibly no Western man will ever be in real sympathy with Orientals in spiritual matters, and Orientals these monks are in the strictest sense. They put a stress upon orthodoxy as such, which to most of us is incomprehensible. They regard idleness as not inconsistent with the highest and holiest life. They consider the particular kind of food which they eat of far more religious importance than to avoid excess in eating and drinking. How can we judge such people by our standards? To them it seems to be religion to sit in a stall all night, perhaps keeping their eyes open, but in a vague trance, thinking of nothing, and not following one word that is said, while they ignore teaching, preaching, active charity, education of the young, as not worthy of the anchorite and the recluse. To us the _ἀγρυπνία_ which we attended seemed the most absolute misconception of the service of God; to the monks this was the very acme of piety.

I have spoken unreservedly of these things, as I learned that these gentle and hospitable souls were impossible to please in one respect—they think all criticism of their life most rude and unjust. They complained to me bitterly of Mr. Riley’s book, which they had learned to know from extracts published in Greek papers, and yet could there be a more generous and sympathetic account than his? If, then, I must in any case (though I deeply regret it) incur their resentment, it is better to do so for a candid judgment, than to endeavor to escape it by writing a mere panegyric, which would mislead the reader without satisfying the monks. Indeed, in one point I could not even satisfy myself. No panegyric could adequately describe their courteous and unstinted hospitality.

INDEX.

About, M. E., 24, 28.
Acro-Corinthus, 395 _sq._
Acropolis of Athens,
first view of, 34, 89 _sq._;
bombarded by Venetians, 91;
by Turks, 98;
works on, 103;
excavations about, 122, 123;
the view from, 152 _sq._
Adler, Dr., his theory concerning Mycenæ, 486.
Ægina, 171, 428 _sq._
Æschines, 294, 324.
Æschylus, 82, 112, 130.
Æsculapius, temple of, at Athens, 139.
Agatharchus, scene-painter, 128.
Air, lightness and clearness of, 255.
Alfieri, 134.
Alkamenes, 107, 307, 312.
Alpheus, the, 302, 317, 342, 357.
Alpine character of Greece, 154.
Altis, the, at Olympia, 302 _sq._
Anaxagoras, 138.
Apollo, temple of,
at Delphi, 283 _sq._;
at Bassæ, 264 _sq._
Arachova,
in Phocis, 276 _sq._;
in Kynuria, 440.
Arcadia, 351 _sq._;
the ideal, 352 _sq._;
description of, 358, 382.
Areopagus, the, 139 _sq._
Argion, 457.
Argos, 410 _sq._
Aristion, stele of, 68.
Aristophanes, 408.
Art, Greek,
reserve of, 79, 80 _sq._, 113, 114;
progress of, 110–112.
Aspendus, theatre of, 127.
Assyrian features in old Greek art, 261.
Astros, 436.
Athena Nike, temple of, 117.
Athens,
faces eastward, 3;
museums of, 51, 55 _sq._;
ancient synœkismos of, 171;
Byzantine art in, 496;
dukes of, 502.
Athletics, Greek, 321–324, 340–342.
Attica, 152 _sq._

Barathrum, the, 86.
Bassæ, 364 _sq._
Bath-room, archaic, at Tiryns, 487 _sq._
Beulé, M., quoted, 342, 358.
Boating, 430.
Bœotia, 229 _sq._
Book of Kells, 470, 524, 525.
Bournouf, M. E., 103, 419.
Boxing, 334.
Brauron, 153, 198.
Brigands, 185, 194–197, 200, 360.
British Museum, 99.
Bruyères, Hugo de, 505.
Bugs, 254.
Bull, fresco of, 489.
Byron, Lord, 29, 200, 205.
Byzantine architecture and art in Greece, 494 _sq._, 496, 507.

Camels, 296.
Canaris, M., 240.
Canon statue, the, 63.
Canova, 336.
Caryatids on Erechtheum, 101, 103.
Cashel, rock of, 120.
Castalian fount, 289, 293.
Castroménos, M., 343.
Cella frieze, of Parthenon, 109 _sq._
Cerigo, 12.
Chæronea, 264 _sq._
Charos, 282.
Cheese, used in training, 326.
Christ,
the Passion of, 81;
in Arcadia, 363.
Christian antiquities of Athens, 145.
Cicada (Tettix), 409.
Cicero, 210, 320.
Cithæron, Mount, 219, 223, 229.
Clarke, Dr., 460.
Cleonæ, 404.
Cockerell, Mr., 368.
Cocks at Sparta, 444.
Coins, 391.
Comedy, Greek, 137;
at Cambridge, 137.
Constantine, the Emperor, 291.
Convent Libraries, 522;
metals and gems, 526;
embroideries, 527;
plaques, 527.
Copais, Lake, 248, 249.
Corinth, 20, 392 _sq._
Corinthian order, 36, 369, 434.
Coronea, 250.
Costume, 268, 279, 379, 437.
Crete, 14, 15.
Curzon, M., 509.
Cyclades, 14, 166, 182.
Cyclopean walls, 472, 473.

Daphne,
pass of, 205;
church at, 500.
Delphi, 282 _sq._
Dionysus (_see_ Theatre).
Divri, 345.
Dodwell, quoted, 96, 228, 464, 471.
Dogs, 32, 301;
on tombs, 261.
Dorians, 442.
Dorian states and their art, 420–423.
Doric order, 34, 37, 98, 304, 407, 474.
Dörpfeld, Dr., 314, 487, 490.
Dramatic competitions, 131.

Eagles, 232.
Earthquakes, 277, 289, 305, 454.
Easter, 361, 383.
Elatea, 265.
Eleusinia, the, 210–214.
Eleusis, 207 _sq._
Eleutheræ, 223–229.
Elgin, Lord, 97, 98, 460.
Elis, 299 _sq._
Entrances, plan of, in Greek palaces, 487–489.
Epaminondas, 241, 242.
Epicureans, 144, 145.
Epidauros, 429, 432 _sq._
Erechtheum, the, 101.
Ergasteria, mines of, 167 _sq._
Erymanthus,
Mount, 343;
river, 345, 347, 358.
Euripides, his art, 129, 130, 321.
Eurotas, the, 440.
Events, the, at Olympic games, 331–333.
Expression in art, 114 _sq._

Fallmerayer, 415.
Forts
at Phyle, 215;
Eleutheræ, 226;
Karytena, 373;
Staigue, Kerry, a comparison, 407;
Tiryns, 405;
Mycenæ, 457.
Freeman, Prof.,
on restorations, 93;
criticised, 93, 246.
French tragedy, 134.
Frieze
of Parthenon, 105;
at Tiryns, 489.
Funeral orations, 75.

Games, the Olympic, 318 _sq._
Glendalough, chapels in, 495.
Gods, the unknown, 143.
Gold cups, polishing of, 485.
Greece,
faces eastward, 2;
routes to, 2, 18–20;
first aspect of, 4;
depopulation of, 11, 232;
permanence of inhabitants, 24, 414–419.
Greek art,
polychromatic, 40–46;
notions of death, 77–79 (cf. Art);
travel, 494.
Greeks,
character of, 21, 146 _sq._ (note) 360;
courage of, 201.
Guide-books for Greece, 53.
Gregorovius, Mr., 493.

Hadrian’s temple of Zeus at Athens, 34–37.
Hagios Petros, 438.
Handbooks for Greece, 53, 54.
Helicon, 248.
Helmet of Hiero, 317.
Heræon, the, at Olympia, 314, 371.
Heraldic ornaments, 482.
Hermes
of Vatican, 63;
archaic at Athens, 68;
of Praxiteles, 313.
Herodotus, 423.
Hesiod, 408.
Homer, 77, 284, 403, 409.
Honey
of Hymettus, 156;
of Laurium, 176.
Hopf, 415.
Hydra, the island of, 183, 425–427.

Ictinus, 364, 370.
Iliad, the, 284, 318, 334, 411, 466.
Inns, 361.
Ionic order, 116.
Ireland, resembles Greece in various natural features, and in its
art, 5, 17, 121, 407, 464, 468–470, 478.
Italy, faces westward, 1.
Itea, 297.
Ithome, Mount, 449 _sq._
Iviron, Monastery, 527.

Jealousy, Greek, 245.
Julian, the Emperor, 292.
Julius Cæsar, 390.

Kalamata, 449, 505.
Karytena, 372, 505.
Katakolo, 299, 381.
Kephissus, the,
near Athens, 157;
in Thriasian plain, 219;
at Orchomenus, 257.
Kirrha, 295.
Kladeos, the, 302 _sq._, 343.
Koron, Gulf of, 6.
Krissa, 294.
Kynætha, 354.
Kynuria, 435.

Ladon, the, 358, 359.
Lala, 344.
Lambros, Mr., 524.
Langada Pass, 446.
Laurium, 169–172;
its mining companies, 173–179.
Lechæum, 390–392.
Lechouri, village of, 347.
Legends, 282, 411, 478.
Lion
of Marathon, 199;
of Chæronea, 268 _sq._;
of the Arsenal, Venice, 270;
of Lucerne, 271.
Lionardo da Vinci, 419.
Lion-gate at Mycenæ, 471.
Livádia, 251 _sq._
Locrian inscriptions, 260.
Lycabettus, 189.
Lysicrates, monument of, 36, 47, 150.

Mænalus, Mount, 381, 387.
Maina, 7.
Malea promontory, 13;
hermit of, 13.
Marathon, 153, 198, 199, 203, 204.
Marble,
Greek, 40;
Pentelican, 190, 304.
Mars’ Orchestra, 243.
Mediæval Greece, 492 _sq._
Medicine in Greece, 362.
Medusa, 419.
Megalopolis, 374.
Melos, 15;
Venus of, 16.
Messene, walls and gates of, 452.
Messenia, 449 _sq._
Meteora Monastery, 528.
Michaelis, 103 _sq._
Mistra, 445, 503.
Monasteries,
Scripou (Orchomenus), 260;
Vourkano, 450.
Morea (_see_ Peloponnesus).
Mount Athos, 509 _sq._
Munychia, 160.
Murray, Mr. A. S., 61, 270, 313, 476.
Museums,
subdivision of, 50–54, 151;
of Athens, 55 _sq._, 74;
of Acropolis, 118;
of Olympia, 306.
Music, 280–282;
in Arcadia, 353, 372.
Mycenæ, 456 _sq._
Myron, 423.
Mysteries, the Eleusinian, 210 _sq._

Naples, museum of, 44.
Natural beauty, exhilarating effect of, 255.
Nauplia, 423, 429.
New Grange, 464, 468.
Nicias, a slave-owner, 177, 178.
Nike of Pæonius, 306, 316.

Oaks, 344, 366.
Œnoe, 224.
Old Cathedral, Athens, 495.
Olive-trees, in Attica, 158, 197.
Olonos, Mount, 343, 347, 348.
Olympia, 303 _sq._
Olympiads, the, 318 _sq._
Oracle, Delphic, 285 _sq._
Orchestra, the, 140.
Orchomenus, 257 _sq._
Ornamentation of temples, 105, 106.
Ostrich egg, at Mycenæ, 478.
Owen, Mr., 528.

Pæonius, 307, 316.
Pæstum, temple of, 394.
Pan, 353, 387.
Panagia Phæneromené, Monastery of, 497, 507.
Panathenaic procession, 109.
Pankration, the, 329, 337.
Papalexopoulos, Dr., 387, 410.
Parnassus, Mount, 274, 281.
Parnes, Mount, 154.
Parthenon,
the older burnt, 66;
account of, 90 _sq._;
sketched by Carrey, 104;
decorations of, 105, 369.
Paul, S., at Athens, 141 _sq._, 389.
Pausanias, King, 292.
Pausanias quoted, 263, 284, 291, 307, 308, 311, 312, 328, 329, 368,
377, 408, 464, 465.
Pediments,
of Parthenon, 105 _sq._;
of temple at Olympia, 308 _sq._
Peiræus (Piræus), 31, 32, 159–161, 206.
Peloponnesus, the, 6.
Penrose, Mr., 102.
Pentathlon, 320, 331.
Pentelicus, Mount, quarries of, 190–193.
Perrot, M. G., quoted, 185–189.
Perseids and Pelopids, 486.
Petrachus, the fort of Chæronea, 264.
Phædriades, the, 289.
Phalerum, 161.
Phayllus, 333.
Phidias, 107, 115, 303.
Phigalia, 364.
Phocians, the, 291.
Phocis, 274 _sq._
Phœnicians, in Greece, 12, 170.
Phyle, pass of, 215.
Pickering, Mr., 326.
Pindar, 242, 294, 316.
Pirene, fountain of, 397.
Platæa, 223, 231.
Plato, 138.
Plutarch, quoted, 213, 265.
Politics, modern Greek, 236–240.
Polyandrion, at Chæronea, 272.
Polybius, 346, 353.
Polychromy, Greek, 39 _sq._
Pompeii, statues from, 70.
Praxiteles, 112;
his Hermes, 313;
his Faun, 353.
Propylæa
at Athens, 100;
at Eleusis, 208, 209.
Psophis, 346.
Psyttalea, 31.
Pullen, Mr., 493.
Pylæa, the, 294, 295.
Pyramids, 465.
Pyrgos, 300.
Pyrrhic dance, 280.
Pythian games, 285, 310, 311.

Racine, his estimate of tragedy, 132–134.
Rain, 346.
Renan, quoted, 141, 246 _sq._
Rhamnus, 185.
Riley, Mr., 519, 522, 526, 528.
Roads, Greek, 190, 220, 256.
Routes, through Greece, 296, 343, 349, 380, 396, 424.

Salamis, 207, 209.
Salonica churches, 497.
Salzburg, compared to Athens, 152.
Sannazaro, Jacopo, 355.
Sayce, Prof., 416.
Schliemann, Dr. H.,
his Mycenæan treasure, 151;
at Nauplia, 435;
excavations at Orchomenus, 258;
Mycenæ, 458 _sq._, 464, 473 _sq._
Schultz, Mr., 493.
Sepulchral monuments, county Meath, compared, 468.
Scott, Sir Walter, 267.
Sculpture, in relation to other arts, 316, 321.
Shelley, 86.
Shepherd children, 448.
Sicily, 63, 404.
Smith, Adam, his theory of sympathy, 80.
Socrates, 138.
Sophocles, 130.
Sorrow, its expression in art, 83.
Sparta, 9, 10 _sq._
Spartans, 320, 325, 441.
Squier, Mr., 60.
Stadium, at Delphi, 293.
Stage, the Greek, 128.
Statues,
various types of, 65;
votive, 315;
archaic, 65–70, 71, 72;
at Argos, 418;
archaistic, 70.
Stele,
of Aristion, 68;
of Alxenor, 261.
Stoics, at Athens, 144.
Strabo, 389, 396, 408.
Sunium, temple of, 166, 179–181.
Swinburne, Mr., his Greek plays, 135.

Tactics, old Greek, 203.
Tainaron, promontory of, 9.
Tanagra, figurines of, 59–62.
Taygetus, 443.
Tegea, 385.
Temple of the Winds (Athens), 47, 150.
Tennyson, his _In Memoriam_ criticised, 84.
Tettix, the (_see_ Cicada).
Theatre of Dionysus at Athens, 122 _sq._;
size of, 125;
at Argos, 413.
Thebans, character of, 241–243.
Thebes, 233–237, 241.
Theocritus, quoted, 192, 336, 353, 402.
Theodosius, 292.
Therasia (Thera), prehistoric discoveries at, 16.
Theseus, temple of, 37, 38, 46, 47.
Thespiæ, 242.
Thucydides, quoted, 207, 259.
Thyreatis, 440.
Tiryns, 405 _sq._, 487 _sq._;
destruction of, 484, 490, 491.
Tomb of S. Luke, 235.
Tombs,
defaced, 47, 48;
the Attic, 74 _sq._;
at Mycenæ, 474 _sq._
Treasury
of Minyæ, 258, 464;
of Atreus, 457 _sq._
Trikoupi, M., 237, 240, 244.
Tripod of Delphi, 292.
Tripolitza, 278, 381, 384.
Tripotamo, 345, 346.
Trophonius, oracle of, 251.
Trypi, 446.
Turks, in Greece, 3, 10, 26, 55, 281 _sq._

Umpires, at Olympia, 337, 338.

Vegetation,
in Arcadia, 366, 367;
Argolis, 401, 429, 458;
Kynuria, 436;
Laconia, 444, 447;
Messenia, 453, 454.
Venetian tower at Athens, 93.
Venetians,
bombard the Acropolis, 91;
destroy sculptures, 100.
Venus, various types of, 113, 114.
Vergil, quoted, 335, 354.
Villehardouins, the, 445, 503.
Viollet-le-duc, M., 393.
Vourkano, monastery of, 449, 508.

Walls, 159, 162;
Peiræic, 259.
Wedding scene, 279.
Wood, use of, in archaic buildings, 491.

Xenophon, cited, 201.

Zea, harbor, 160, 161.
Zeus,
temple of, at Athens, 46;
temple and statue of, at Olympia, 303 _sq._;
bronze figures of (_Ζᾶνες_), 338.

[Map: Greece and the Ægean Sea]

FOOTNOTES

1 Though this statement is broadly true, it requires some
modification. I should be sorry to be thought insensible to the
beauties, not only of Ravenna, with its mosaics and its pines, but
of Ancona, of the splendid Monte Gargano, of Trani and Bari, and of
the rich gardens and vineyards of Apulia.

2 Cf. Strabo, viii. c. 2, _ἐστι τοίνυν ἡ Πελοπόννησος ἐοικυῖα φύλλῳ
πλατάνου τὸ σχῆμα_.

3 These words were written in 1873. On a later occasion, our ship was
obliged to run into this bay for shelter from a storm, when we found
some cultivation along the coasts, and a village (Koron), with
extensive fortifications above it, said to be Venetian. The aspect
was by no means so desolate as appeared from a passing view outside
the headlands. Coasting steamers now call here (at Kalamata) every
second day.

4 Which the reader will find best portrayed in Prosper Mérimée’s
_Colomba_.

5 See the remarks of Polybius, who was himself witness of this great
change, quoted in the last chapter of my _Greek Life and Thought,
from Alexander to the Roman Conquest_.

6 We hailed him with a steam whistle in 1886, in vain; so it may be
that he has passed to some newer and more social kind of life.

7 A closer view of Crete disclosed to me the interesting fact that the
island is turned to the north, as regards its history. It is barred
on the south by great walls of rock, with hardly any landing-places,
so that all traffic and culture must have started from the slopes
and bays on the north side, where the Cyclades are its neighbors.

8 I should except the splendid _Venus victrix_, as she is called,
found at Capua, and now in the Museum of Naples.

9 In my _Social Life in Greece, from Homer to Menander_.

10 The words are M. About’s.

11 I beg to point out to a learned and kindly critic in the _Athenæum_,
who corrected several faults of spelling in the first edition, that
this is the form of the name warranted by inscriptions, and now to
be received by scholars: cf. Wachsmuth’s _Stadt Athen_, i. p. 49.

12 This beautiful monument has been so defaced and mutilated that the
photographs of to-day give no idea of its decoration. The careful
drawings and restorations of Stuart and Revett were made in the last
century, when it was still comparatively intact, and it is through
their book alone that we can now estimate the merits of many of the
ancient buildings of Athens. It should be added that there was a
solitary Corinthian capital found in the temple of Bassæ, which I
will describe in another chapter. But this still affords an unsolved
problem. The Philippeion at Olympia (built by the famous Philip of
Macedon) also contained an inner circle of Corinthian pillars, while
the outer circle was Ionic.

13 The following remarks on the polychromy of Greek art are not
intended for Professors of Fine Art, to whom, indeed, few things in
this book, if true, can be new, but for the ordinary reader, who may
not have seen it discussed elsewhere.

14 By the way, the appellation “Temple of Theseus” is more than
doubtful. The building fronts towards the east. This is proved by
the greater size and more elaborate decoration of the eastern
portal. It is almost certain, according to an old scholion on
Pindar, that the temples of heroes like Theseus faced west, while
those only of the Olympian gods faced the rising sun. The temple,
therefore, was the temple, not of a hero, but of a god. Probably the
Temple of Heracles, worshipped as a _god_ at Athens, which is
mentioned in the scholia of Aristophanes as situated in this part of
Athens, is to be identified with the building in question. But I
suppose for years to come we must be content to abide by the old
name of Theseon, which is now too long in general use to be easily
disturbed.

15 I was since informed at Athens that this complaint had not been
without results, and that steps are being taken to prevent quarrying
at random on classical sites.

16 Even the marble statue set up to the patriot Botzari over the grave
of the heroes of Missolonghi was so mutilated by the inhabitants
that the authorities have removed it from mere shame.

17 It is fair to add that an exception has been made for the
discoveries at Mycenæ, which have been almost all brought to Athens;
and that a handsome museum has now been built at Olympia, and a good
road from Pyrgos, which has a railway to the sea.

18 Since this was written there have been published (in German) two
careful catalogues of the sculptures of Athens by V. Sybel and by
Milchhöfer (1881), and there is besides the excellent _Handbook for
Greece_ by Dr. Lolling (Bædeker). The new edition of Murray’s
Handbook is very dear and not very satisfactory. There is a small
Greek Catalogue published by Stanford, translated by Miss Agnes
Smith. The Mycenæan antiquities are described in a separate book by
Schliemann, and by Schuchhardt.

19 There is no more pathetic instance than that described by Mr. Squier
(in his admirable work on Peru) of the tomb of a young girl which he
himself discovered, and where he comments on the various objects
laid to rest with the dead: cf. Squier’s _Peru_, p. 80. There has
since been found at Myrina, on the Asiatic coast, a great store of
these clay figures, also in tombs. Some sets of them were made to
represent the sculptures of a pediment, such as that of the
Parthenon, or rather of the east front of the temple of Olympia.

20 If I mistake not, Mr. A. S. Murray seems disposed to date them about
the first century either B. C. or A. D., thus bringing them down to
about the time of Strabo.

21 There is already quite a large collection of them in the British
Museum, _e. g._ Vase Room I., case 35, where there are many of these
figures from Tanagra. In Room II. there is a whole case of them,
chiefly from Cyrene, and from Cnidus.

22 No. 53, Mus. Pio Clem., in a small room beside the _Apollo
Belvedere_ and _Laocoon_.

23 There is now an excellent publication of the archaic statues found
in the Acropolis, by Cavvadias (Wilberg, Athens).

24 I endeavored to examine these drums by looking down through a hole
in the wall over them. They seemed to me not fluted, and rather of
the shape of barrels, very thick in the middle, than of the drums of
pillars in temples.

25 It is asserted somewhere by a Greek author that the temples burned
by the Persians were left in ruins to remind the people of the
wrongs of the hated barbarians. But we have distinct evidence, in
some cases, that this assertion is not true, and besides, using the
materials for other purposes is not the same thing. We now know that
a quantity of mutilated statues were shot as rubbish into the space
between the old Parthenon and the wall, to make a terrace for the
newer and greater building. Here they were found in the recent
excavations.

26 Aristion is also mentioned among the artists of the period.

27 “Vultum ab antiquo rigore variare.”—Plin. xxxv. 35.

28 They have been published in the first part of an excellent work on
the treasures of Athens, reproduced in phototype by Rhomaïdès
Brothers, with an explanatory text by various Athenian scholars.

29 I cannot do better than quote the admirable description of M. Ch.
Diehl: “C’étaient surtout de nouvelles statues de jeunes femmes, au
mystérieux sourire, à la parure étincelante, de ces idoles fardées
et peintes, bien faites, par leur saveur étrange, pour tenter le
pinceau d’un Gustave Moreau ou la plume d’un Pierre Loti. Comme
leurs sœurs, ces nouvelles venues ont la même attitude et le même
costume, les mêmes coquetteries de parure, le même soin de leur
chevelure, la même expression aussi; pourtant à la série déjà connue
elles out ajouté quelques œuvres exquises, et trois d’entre elles en
particulier méritent d’être signalées. L’une est une merveille de
coloris; sa tunique à large bande rouge, sa chemisette d’un vert
foncé, bordée de pourpre, son manteau orné de méandres du dessin le
plus fin, ses vêtements parsemés de croix rouges ou vertes, qui se
retrouvent sur le diadème de ses cheveux, sont d’un incomparable
éclat. Sous les tons chauds de ces riches couleurs disposées avec un
goût exquis, il semble que le marbre s’anime et fasse la chair
vivante; et un charme étrange émane de cette figure. Celle-ci (cf.
Plate) d’une date plus récente, probablement l’une des plus jeunes
de la série, montre l’effort d’un artiste habile pour créer une
œuvre originale. Dans ces formes élancées, dans cette tête petite et
fine, dans ces bras jetés en avant du corps, on sent la volonté du
maître qui cherche à faire autrement que ses devanciers; le sourire
traditionnel est devenu presque imperceptible, les yeux, qui
souriaient jadis à l’unison des levres, out cessé de se relever vers
les tempes; les joues creuses se remplissent et s’arrondissent; avec
des œuvres de cette sorte, l’archaisme est prêt à finir.... La
troisième enfin est une des œuvres les plus remarquables de l’art
attique. Plus ancienne que la précédente, elle est d’une valeur
artistique bien supérieure. Le modelé en est exquis, et son
irréprochable finesse fait un contraste singulier avec les procédés
qui sentent encore les conventions de l’école. Suivant les
traditions de l’art antique, les yeux sont obliques et bridés, le
sourire fait toujours grimacer les levres; mais dans les yeux le
regard n’est plus indifférent et fixe; il brille d’une lueur de vie
et de pensée; le sourire de ces levres n’est plus sec et dur, il
semble avoir une douceur attendrie. Certes il n’y a dans cette
sculpture nul effort pour chercher des chemins nouveaux; mais parmi
les œuvres de l’art archaïque, parmi celles où le maître a
docilement suivi la route frayée et battue, cette sculpture à
l’expression candide et presque attristée est l’une des plus
admirables.”—_Excursions archéologiques en Grèce_, p. 104.

30 When I revisited Athens in the spring of 1889, the National Museum,
which is a fine and spacious building, was quite an orderly museum,
and it was easy to see and enjoy the works of art preserved in it.
The archaic things were, moreover (as in the Acropolis), placed by
themselves; so were the tombs, and so were most of the portrait
busts. All that was still wanting was a good and complete catalogue.

31 These panegyrics—_λόγοι ἐπιτάφιοι_ they were called—were a favorite
exercise of Greek literary men. There are five classical ones still
extant—that mentioned, that in the _Menexenus_ of Plato, that of
Hypereides, and those ascribed (justly) to Lysias and (falsely) to
Demosthenes. That of Hypereides, very mutilated as it is, seems to
me the finest next to that of Thucydides. But they are all built
upon the same lines, showing even here that strict conservatism in
every branch of Greek art which never varied, for variety’s sake,
from a type once recognized as really good.

32 Roubillac’s monuments in Westminster Abbey, which excited the
admiration of his contemporaries, are the best example I know of
degradation in public taste on this question.

33 I did, indeed, see one relief at Athens, in which the relatives are
represented as rushing forward in agony, as it were to delay the
departure of the fainting figure. It is right that this exception
should be noted, as it shows that they understood what violent grief
was, and yet avoided representing it as a rule.

34 I fancy, from the unity of type shown in many of them, that they may
even have been designed by the artist without regard to the special
case, and purchased by the family of the deceased ready made. The
figures upon them do not seem to me personal likenesses.

35 In the _Adonais_, Shelley affords a curious contrast to the somewhat
morbid prominence of the poet in the case before us. The
self-effacement of Shelley has centred all our interest on his lost
friend.

36 He also supposed that the tower was Frankish, and built long before
the Venetian conquest. But here he was wrong. The stones inside the
tower, when taken down, showed clear traces of gun-powder, as was
clearly shown in a learned refutation of his views, printed at
Athens.

37 Other specimens are preserved in the little Turkish house on the
Acropolis, and should be noted by the visitor, who may easily pass
them by.

38 I speak, of course, of the copies of these famous statues which are
to be seen in the Vatican Museum.

39 The illustrated work of Michaelis is probably the most complete and
critical account both of the plan and the details, which have often
been discussed, and especially with great accuracy by Mr. Penrose,
whose monumental work, the _Principles of Athenian Architecture_,
has recently been republished. Among the many newer works, I would
call special attention to the first volume of Viollet-le-duc’s
_Entretiens sur l’Architecture_, already translated into English,
which is full of most instructing and suggestive observations on
Greek architecture; also to M. E. Bournouf’s _Acropole d’Athènes_.

40 They will be most readily consulted in the plates of Michaelis’s
_Parthenon_.

41 The discovery of the figures from the western pediment of the temple
at Olympia, carved by Alcamenes, a contemporary of Phidias, will
hardly lead us to modify this judgment. For though they show a great
talent in the composition, the defects in execution are so grave as
to lead many critics to suspect that we have in them the work of
mere local artists, certainly not the masterful hands that adorned
the Parthenon.

42 It is very uncertain, perhaps unlikely, that any of the
architectural sculpture we possess was actually finished by
Phidias’s own hand. But there can be no doubt that he directed it,
and must have designed much of it in detail, since the general
composition was certainly his creation.

43 This very pattern, in mahogany, with cane seats, and adapted, like
all Greek chairs, for loose cushions, was often used in eighteenth
century work, and may still be found in old Irish mansions furnished
at that epoch.

44 I state this because many critics have drawn an opposite inference
from a mistranslation of a passage in Plato (_Apol._ 26, E).

45 The exact number, according to Papadakis (cf. A. Müller,
_Bühnenalt._, p. 47), is stated at 27,500. But I am convinced this
is a great exaggeration. I should rather give 15,000 as a liberal
estimate; and this agrees with the measurements made for me by Dr.
Dörpfeld in 1889. This mistake is also due to misunderstanding a
passage in Plato’s _Symposium_, which says that “Agathon, whom
30,000 citizens hear——”. It is not said that they heard him at the
same time.

46 Cf. on this point my _History of Greek Literature_, i. p. 345.

47 Cf. on the details of Greek painting the last chapter of my _Social
Life in Greece_.

48 The actual passage is well worth quoting—“Au reste, je n’ose encore
ajouter que cette pièce soit en effet la meilleure de mes tragédies.
Je laisse et aux lecteurs et au temps à décider de son véritable
prix. Ce que je puis assurer, c’est que je n’en ai point fait où la
vertu soit plus mise en jour que dans celle-ci; les moindres fautes
y sont sévèrement punies; la seule pensée du crime y est regardée
avec autant d’horreur que le crime même; les faiblesses de l’amour y
passent pour des vraies faiblesses; les passions n’y sont présentées
aux yeux que pour montrer tous les désordres dont elles sont causes,
et le vice y est peint partout avec des couleurs qui en out fait
connaître et haïr la difformité. C’est là proprement le but que tout
homme qui travaille pour le public se doit proposer; et c’est que
les premiers poètes tragiques avaient en vue sur toute chose. Leur
théâtre était une école où la vertu n’était pas moins bien enseignée
que dans les écoles des philosophes.... Il serait à souhaiter que
nos ouvrages fussent aussi solides et aussi pleins d’utiles
instructions que ceux de ces poètes. Ce serait peut-être un moyen de
réconcilier la tragédie avec quantité de personnes célèbres par leur
piété et par leur doctrine, qui l’ont condamnée dans ces derniers
temps, et qui en jugeraient sans doute plus favorablement, si les
auteurs songeaient autant à instruire les spectateurs qu’à les
divertir, et s’ils suivaient en cela la véritable intention de la
tragédie.”

49 Racine is here the exception.

50 Alfieri, though starting with a violent feeling of reaction against
some of the faults of the French drama, was wholly trained upon it,
and only knew the Greek plays through French versions until very
late in life, when most of his works were already published. I
therefore class him unhesitatingly as an offshoot of that school.

51 There is now (1891) a controversy raging concerning the height of
the Greek stage and its arrangements, owing to the researches of Dr.
Dörpfeld. I cannot enter upon it here.

52 This was written before the very interesting revivals of Greek plays
which do such honor to Cambridge. Those who had the privilege of
seeing them can judge not only how far a reproduction was possible,
but how far it can succeed, for never will it be more ably
undertaken and carried out.

53 The reader who cares to consult the various prices cited in my _Old
Greek Life_ will see the grounds for assuming some such change in
the value of money between the fourth century B. C. in Greece and
the nineteenth A. D. in England.

54 I perceive that M. Renan, who alone of skeptical critics is
persuaded, possibly by the striking picturesqueness of the scene, to
accept it as historical, considers it not impossible that S. Paul
may have been actually brought before the court. He notices that in
later days it assumed a general direction not only of literature,
but of morals, and that any new teacher might fairly have been
summoned before it to expound his views. This does not seem to me to
agree with the ironical and trivial character of the whole audience,
as intimated by the historian. The author of the work called
_Supernatural Religion_, when analyzing, in his third volume, the
Acts of the Apostles, is actually silent on this speech, though he
discusses at great length the speeches of S. Paul which he thinks
composed as parallels to those of S. Peter. Most German critics look
on the passage as introduced by the author, like the speeches in
Thucydides or Tacitus, as a literary ornament, as well as an
exposition of the Apostolic preaching of the early Church. They also
note its many contrasts to the teaching of such documents as the
Epistle to the Romans. I have assumed, as even M. Renan seems to do,
that the Apostle told Timothy, or Luke, or some other follower, the
main purport of this memorable visit, and also the headings of the
speech, which is too unlike his received writings to be a probable
forgery.

55 The fact that the title of Menander’s famous play was _Δεισιδαίμων_
has escaped the commentators. S. Paul must have meant “rather
superstitious,” as the A. V. has it.

56 Though _ἄγνωστος_ may surely have this meaning, I do not find it
suggested in any of the commentaries on the passage. They all
suppose some superstitious precaution, or else some case of the real
inscription being effaced by time, and supplied in this way. The
expression in Pausanias—the gods called unknown, _τοῖς ὀνομαζομένοις
ἀγνώστοις_—seems to suggest it as a regular title, and we know that
there were deities whose name was secret, and might not be
pronounced. But in the face of so many better critics I will not
insist upon this interpretation.

57 This depends on no mere accident, but on the essential features of
the spiritual side of Greek character, on which I will quote an
admirable passage from Renan’s _S. Paul_:

“Ce qui caractérisait la religion du Grec autrefois, ce qui la
caractérise encore de nos jours, c’est le manque d’infini, de vague,
d’attendrissement, de mollesse féminine; la profondeur du sentiment
religieux allemand et celtique manque à la race des vrais Hellènes.
La piété du Grec orthodoxe consiste en pratiques et en signes
extérieurs. Les églises orthodoxes, parfois très-élégantes, n’ont
rien des terreurs qu’on ressent dans une église gothique. En ce
christianisme oriental, point de larmes, de prières, de componction
intérieure. Les enterrements y sont presque gais; ils ont lieu le
soir, au soleil couchant, quand les ombres sont déjà longues, avec
des chants à mi-voix et un déploiement de couleurs voyantes. La
gravité fanatique des Latins déplaît à ces races vives, sereines,
légères. L’infirme n’y est pas abattu: il voit doucement venir la
mort; tout sourit autour de lui. Là est le secret de cette gaieté
divine des poëmes homériques et de Platon: le récit de la mort de
Socrate dans le _Phédon_ montre à peine une teinte de tristesse. La
vie, c’est donner sa fleur, puis son fruit; quoi de plus? Si, comme
on peut le soutenir, la préoccupation de la mort est le trait le
plus important du christianisme et du sentiment religieux moderne,
la race grecque est la moins religieuse des races. C’est une race
superficielle, prenant la vie comme une chose sans surnaturel ni
arrière-plan. Une telle simplicité de conception tient en grande
partie au climat, à la pureté de l’air, à l’étonnante joie qu’on
respire, mais bien plus encore aux instincts de la race hellénique,
adorablement idéaliste. Un rien, un arbre, une fleur, un lézard, une
tortue, provoquant le souvenir de mille métamorphoses chantées par
les poëtes; un filet d’eau, un petit creux dans le rocher, qu’on
qualifie d’antre des nymphes; un puits avec une tasse sur la
margelle, un pertuis de mer si étroit que les papillons le
traversent et pourtant navigable aux plus grands vaisseaux, comme à
Poros; des orangers, des cyprès dont l’ombre s’étend sur la mer, un
petit bois de pins au milieu des rochers, suffisent en Grèce pour
produire le contentement qu’éveille la beauté. Se promener dans les
jardins pendant la nuit, écouter les cigales, s’asseoir au clair de
lune en jouant de la flûte; aller boire de l’eau dans la montagne,
apporter avec soi un petit pain, un poisson et un lécythe de vin
qu’on boit en chantant; aux fêtes de famille, suspendre une couronne
de feuillage au-dessus de sa porte, aller avec des chapeaux de
fleurs; les jours de fêtes publiques, porter des thyrses garnis de
feuillages; passer des journées à danser, à jouer avec des chèvres
apprivoisées—voilà les plaisirs grecs, plaisirs d’une race pauvre,
économe, éternellement jeune, habitant un pays charmant, trouvant
son bien en elle-même et dans les dons que les dieux lui ont faits.
La pastorale à la façon de Théocrite fut dans les pays helléniques
une vérité; la Grèce se plut toujours à ce petit genre de poésie fin
et aimable, l’un des plus caractéristiques de sa littérature, miroir
de sa propre vie, presque partout ailleurs niais et factice. La
belle humeur, la joie de vivre sont les choses grecques par
excellence. Cette race a toujours vingt ans: pour elle, _indulgere
genio_ n’est pas la pesante ivresse de l’Anglais, le grossier
ébattement du Français; c’est tout simplement penser que la nature
est bonne, qu’on peut et qu’on doit y céder. Pour le Grec, en effet,
la nature est une conseillère d’élégance, une maîtresse de droiture
et de vertu; la ‘concupiscence,’ cette idée que la nature nous
induit à mal faire, est un non-sens pour lui. Le goût de la parure
qui distingue le palicare, et qui se montre avec tant d’innocence
dans la jeune Grecque, n’est pas la pompeuse vanité du barbare, la
sotte prétention de la bourgeoise, bouffie de son ridicule orgueil
de parvenue; c’est le sentiment pur et fin de naïfs jouvenceaux, se
sentant fils légitimes des vrais inventeurs de la beauté.

“Une telle race, on le comprend, eût accueilli Jésus par un sourire.
Il était une chose que ces enfants exquis ne pouvaient nous
apprendre: le sérieux profond, l’honnêteté simple, le dévouement
sans gloire, la bonté sans emphase. Socrate est un moraliste de
premier ordre: mais il n’a rien à faire dans l’histoire religieuse.
Le Grec nous paraît toujours un peu sec et sans cœur: il a de
l’esprit, du mouvement, de la subtilité; il n’a rien de rêveur, de
mélancolique. Nous autres, Celtes et Germains, la source de notre
génie, c’est notre cœur. Au fond de nous est comme une fontaine de
fées, une fontaine claire, verte et profonde, où se reflète
l’infini. Chez le Grec, l’amour propre, la vanité se mêlent à tout;
le sentiment vague lui est inconnu; la réflexion sur sa propre
destinée lui paraît fade. Poussée à la caricature, une façon si
incomplète d’entendre la vie donne a l’époque romaine le _græculus
esuriens_, grammairien, artiste, charlatan, acrobate, médecin,
amuseur du monde entier, fort analogue à l’Italien des XVIe et XVIIe
siècles: à l’époque byzantine, le théologien sophiste faisant
dégénérer la religion en subtiles disputes; de nos jours, le Grec
moderne, quelquefois vaniteux et ingrat, le _papas_ orthodoxe, avec
sa religion égoïste et matérielle. Malheur à qui s’arrête à cette
décadence! Honte à celui qui, devant le Parthénon, songe à remarquer
un ridicule! Il faut le reconnaître pourtant: la Grèce ne fut jamais
sérieusement chrétienne; elle ne l’est pas encore. Aucune race ne
fut moins romantique, plus dénuée du sentiment chevaleresque de
notre moyen âge. Platon bâtit toute sa théorie de la beauté en se
passant de la femme. Penser à une femme pour s’exciter à faire de
grandes choses! un Grec eût été bien surpris d’un pareil langage; il
pensait, lui, aux hommes réunis sur l’_agora_, il pensait à la
patrie. Sous ce rapport, les Latins étaient plus près de nous. La
poésie grecque, incomparable dans les grands genres tels que
l’épopée, la tragédie, la poésie lyrique désintéressée, n’avait pas,
ce semble, la douce note élégiaque de Tibulle, de Virgile, de
Lucrèce, note si bien en harmonie avec nos sentiments, si voisine de
ce que nous aimons.

“La même différence se retrouve entre la piété de saint Bernard, de
saint François d’Assise et celle des saints de l’Église grecque. Ces
belles écoles de Cappadoce, de Syrie, d’Égypte, des Pères du désert,
sont presque des écoles philosophiques. L’hagiographie populaire des
Grecs est plus mythologique que celle des Latins. La plupart des
saints qui figurent dans l’iconostase d’une maison grecque et devant
lesquels brûle une lampe ne sont pas de grands fondateurs, de grands
hommes, comme les saints de l’Occident; ce sont souvent des êtres
fantastiques, d’anciens dieux transfigurés, ou du moins des
combinaisons de personnages historiques et de mythologie, comme
saint Georges. Et cette admirable église de Sainte-Sophie! c’est un
temple arien; le genre humain tout entier pourrait y faire sa
prière. N’ayant pas eu de pape, d’inquisition, de scolastique, de
moyen age barbare, ayant toujours gardé un levain d’arianisme, la
Grèce lâchera plus facilement qu’aucun autre pays le christianisme
surnaturel, à peu près comme ces Athéniens d’autrefois étaient en
même temps, grâce à une sorte de légèreté, mille fois plus profonde
que le sérieux de nos lourdes races, le plus superstitieux des
peuples et le plus voisin du rationalisme. Les chants populaires
grecs sont encore aujourd’hui pleins d’images et d’idées païennes. À
la grande différence de l’Occident, l’Orient garda durant tout le
moyen âge et jusqu’aux temps modernes de vrais ‘hellénistes,’ au
fond plus païens que chrétiens, vivants du culte de la vieille
patrie grecque et des vieux auteurs. Ces hellénistes sont, au XVe
siècle, les agents de la renaissance de l’Occident, auquel ils
apportent les textes grecs, base de toute civilization. Le même
esprit a présidé et présidera aux destinées de la Grèce nouvelle.
Quand on a bien étudié ce qui fait de nos jours le fond d’un Hellène
cultivé, on voit qu’il y a chez lui très-peu de christianisme: il
est chrétien de forme, comme un Persan est musulman; mais au fond il
est ‘helléniste.’ Sa religion, c’est l’adoration de l’ancien génie
grec. Il pardonne toute hérésie au philhellène, a celui qui admire
son passé; il est bien moins disciple de Jésus et de saint Paul que
de Plutarque et de Julien.”

58 The reader will find in my last chapter some further information
concerning the remains of mediæval Greece.

59 I have seen it very full in June; I have also seen it almost dry in
April, so that it depends upon the season whether the traveller will
enjoy the coolness of the river, or turn with disappointment from
its stony bed.

60 On a fine summer’s day, in the meadows about Eton, I was struck with
the truth of this phrase. A light breeze was making all the poplars
shiver beside the great elms, which stood in silence.

61 This was the military harbor, at least in the fourth century, B. C.,
when the architect Philo built a famous arsenal (_σκευοθήκη_) at its
north-east corner, of which the plan and even details have been
reconstructed by Dr. Dörpfeld from an important inscription
recovered in 1881.

62 Thucydides, followed by modern historians, has nevertheless been
inaccurate in his use of the expression _Long Walls_. He sometimes
means the north and Phaleric wall, sometimes the north and south
parallel walls, to the exclusion of the Phaleric wall. The long
walls rebuilt by Conon were the latter pair, and thus not the same
long walls as were finished in 456 B. C.

63 The reader who desires to see the best poetical picture of modern
Athens should consult the tenth chapter in Mr. Symonds’s _Sketches
in Italy and Greece_—one of the most beautiful productions of that
charming poet in prose.

64 IX. § I. p. 244 (Tauchn.).

65 He reads, however, _φρίξουσι_, instead of Herodotus’s _φρύξουσι_.

66 There is now a railway from Athens to the mines (1887).

67 The earliest allusion to them is a line in Æschylus’s _Persæ_, where
they come in so peculiarly, and without any natural suggestion, that
they must have been in his day a new and surprising source of
wealth. Atossa is inquiring of the chorus about Athens, and whether
it possesses any considerable wealth. The chorus replies (v. 238):

_ἀργύρου πηγή τις αὐτοῖς ἐστι, θησαυρὸς χθονός._

This inference of mine, made years ago, is now strongly confirmed by
the recovered _Polity of the Athenians_, which says (chap. xxii.):
“In the archonship of Nicodemus [484–3 B. C.], when the mines at
Maroneia [as he calls them] were discovered (_ἐφάνη_), and there was
a profit of 100 talents from the work, Themistocles,” etc.

68 It is possible that in the days of Eretria’s greatness, when she
ruled over a number of the Cyclades, Eretrians may have worked the
mines. These occupants probably preceded the Æginetans. But the
strange thing is, that the mines and their large profits appear
suddenly, and as a novelty, at a particular point of Greek history.

69 Arist. _Œcon._, II. 4.

70 Since I visited the place there are actually five companies—two
Greek and three French—established to work the district.

71 There is also a quotation in Strabo (iii. 3, § 9), from Demetrius
Phal., implying their activity in the third century B. C. Plutarch
(_de defectu or._ 43) speaks of them as having _lately_ failed.

72 Byron, who loved this spot above all others, I think, in Greece,
speaks of sixteen as still standing in his day.

73 Dr. Dörpfeld has since shown that the marble temple at Sunium was
built on the site of an older temple, with a very slight but
distinct enlargement of the plan. The older temple was of the
ordinary poros-stone found on the site.

74 “Aujourd’hui tout ce district est presque désert; seuls, quelques
archéologues et quelques artistes affrontent ces gorges pierreuses
et ces scabreux sentiers; on prend alors ce chemin pour aller de
Marathon à Chalcis et revenir à Athènes par Décélie, entre le
Pentélique et Parnès. Ces monuments de Rhamnunte offrent des traits
curieux qui les rendent intéressants pour le voyageur érudit; mais
de plus les ruines mêmes et le site ont assez de beauté pour
dédommager de leur peine ceux qui recherchent surtout le
pittoresque. Je n’oublierai jamais les quelques heures que j’ai
passées là, il y a déjà longtemps, par une radieuse matinée d’avril.
Pendant que nous examinions ce qui restait des anciens sanctuaires
et de leurs défenses, notre guide songeait au déjeuner; il avait
acheté un agneau à l’un de ces pâtres appelés _Vlaques_ qui, avec
leurs brebis et leurs chèvres éparses dans les buissons de myrtes et
de lentisques, sont à peu près les seuls habitants de ce canton.
Quand nous revînmes, l’agneau, soutenu sur deux fourches fichées en
terre par un jeune pin sylvestre qui servait de broche, cuisait tout
entier devant un feu clair, et la graisse coulait à grosses gouttes
sur les charbons ardents. Devant notre tapis étendu à l’ombre avait
été préparée une jonchée de verts branchages sur lesquels le
succulent rôti, rapidement découpé par le coutelas d’un berger,
laissa bientôt tomber côtelettes et gigots.

“Ce qui nous fit prolonger là notre halte après que notre appetit
fut satisfait, ce fut la vue magnifique dont on jouissait de la
plate-forme où nous étions établis, dans un coin de l’acropole. A
nos pieds, c’était la mer, veloutée de chatoyante reflets par le
soleil, par la brise, par les nuages qui passaient au ciel. En face
de nous se dressaient les hautes et sévères côtes de l’Eubée,
dominés par la pyramide du Dirphys. Ce fier sommet était encore tout
blanc des neiges de l’hiver; au contraire, si nous nous retournons
vers les gorges qui se creusaient autour de nous dans la montagne,
entre des parois de marbre rougies et comme hâlées par le soleil,
c’était le printemps de la Grèce dans tout son épanouissement et son
éclat. Dans le fond des ravins, là où un peu d’eau filtrait sous les
cailloux, arbres de Judée et cytises mêlaient leurs brillantes
couleurs au tendre feuillage des platanes, et sur les pentes les
plus âpres des milliers de genêts en fleur étincelaient parmi la
verdure des genévriers, des chênes et des oliviers francs.

“Dans l’antiquité, toute cette portion du territoire athénien, qui
faisait partie de ce que l’on appelait la _Diakria_ ou le ‘haut
pays,’ sans avoir de gros villages ni une population aussi dense que
celle des plaines d’Athènes ou d’Eleusis, devait pourtant présenter
un aspect assez diffèrent de celui qu’elle offre aujourd’hui; je me
la représente assez semblable à ce que sont maintenant certains
districts montueux de la Grèce moderne où le désir d’éviter le
contact des Turcs avait rejeté et cantonné les Hellènes: il en était
ainsi du Magne, de la Tzaconie, des environs de Karytena en Arcadie.
Partout là, une industrieuse persévérance a mis à profit tout ce que
pouvaient offrir de ressources le sol et le climat. Sur des pentes
abruptes et presque verticales, de petits murs en pierres sèches
s’efforcent de retenir une mince couche de terre végétale; malgré
ces précautions, les grandes pluies de l’hiver et les vents de l’été
en emportent une partie jusqu’au fond de la vallée, sans jamais se
lasser, hommes, femmes, enfants, travaillent sans relâche à réparer
ces dégâts. Que de fois, admirant la patience de ces sobres et
tenaces montagnards, je les ai suivis des yeux pendant qu’ils
allaient ainsi lentement, le dos courbé sous leurs hottes pleines,
gravissant des sentiers sablonneux ou d’étroits escaliers taillés à
même la roche qui leur renvoyait touts les ardeurs du soleil! Au
bout de quelques années, il n’est pas peut-être une parcelle du
terrain dans chacun de ces petits champs qui n’ait fait plusieurs
fois le voyage, qui n’ait glissé jusqu’au bord du torrent pour être
ensuite ramenée pelletée par pelletée, sur une des terrasses
supérieures. Ces sacrifices sont récompensés. Le long du ruisseau,
là où les côtes s’écartent et laissent entre elles un peu d’espace,
l’eau, soigneusement ménagée, mesurée par heures et par minutes à
chaque propriétaire, court bruyante et claire dans les rigoles; elle
arrose des vergers où croissent, suivant les lieux, soit l’oranger,
le citronnier et le grenadier, soit les arbres de nos climats
tempérés, le pêcher, le pommier et le poirier; à leur ombre
grossissent la fève et l’enorme courge. Plus haut, sur les versants
les moins roides et les moins pierreux, là où la légère charrue
inventée par Triptolème a trouvé assez de place pour tracer le
sillon, l’orge et le seigle verdissent au printemps, et, dans les
bonnes années, profitent pour mûrir des tardifs soleils d’automne.
Ce qui d’ailleurs réussit le mieux dans ces montagnes, ce qui paye
vraiment les habitants de leurs peines, c’est l’olivier, dont les
puissantes racines étreignent le roc et semblent faire corps avec
lui; c’est la vigne, qui, d’étage en étage, grimpe presque jusqu’aux
sommets. A l’un et à l’autre, pour donner une huile et un vin qui
seraient les plus savoureux du monde, s’ils étaient mieux préparés,
il suffit de beaucoup de soleil, d’un peu de terre et de quelques
coups de hoyau qui viennent à propos ameublir le sol et le dégager
des plantes parasites.

“C’est ainsi que dans l’Attique, au temps de sa prospérité, même les
cantons aujourd’hui les plus déserts et les plus stériles devaient
être habités et cultivés. Sur beaucoup de ces croupes où le roc
affleure presque partout, où verdit à peine, aux premiers jours du
printemps, une herbe courte, diaprée d’anémones et de cistes, qui
jaunira dès le mois de mai, il y avait jadis une couche plus épaisse
de terre végétale. Dans les ravins, là où j’ai perdu plus d’une fois
mon chemin en poursuivant la perdrix rouge ou la bécasse à travers
des maquis touffus, on a, pendant bien des siècles, fait la vendange
et la cueillette des olives; c’est ce dont témoignent, sur les
pentes les mieux exposées aux rayons du midi ou du couchant, des
restes de murs et de terrassements que l’on distingue encore dans
l’épaisseur du fourré. Dans les endroits où la culture était à peu
près impossible, des bois de pins, aujourd’hui presque entièrement
détruits, empêchaient la montagne de se dénuder; dans les clairières
et entre les rocs mêmes poussaient la sauge, la campanule et le
thym, toutes ces plantes aromatiques, tous ces vigoureux arbustes
que se plaît à tondre la dent des moutons et des chèvres.”

_ 75 πολλαὶ δ’ ἁμὶν ὕπερθε κατὰ κρατὸς δονέοντο_
_αἴγειροι πτελέαι τε· τὸ δ’ ἐγγύθεν ἱερὸν ὕδωρ_
_Νυμφᾶν ἐξ ἄντροιο κατειβόμενον κελάρυζε_
—THEOCR. VII. 135.

76 Since M. Trikoupi’s long and effective administration, brigandage
was so effectually put down that, although there were plenty of
brigands in Mount Olympus close to the frontier, it was perfectly
safe to wander about in Northern Greece up to the vale of Tempe.
Such was the state of things in 1889. Whether his recent successor
will keep as good order remains to be seen.

_ 77 Social Life in Greece_, p. 23.

78 Xen. _Hell._, iv., 3, § 1. To cite a parallel in modern history: a
writer in the _Pall Mall Gazette_ (July 12, 1876) says: “I witnessed
a battle during the War of Greek Independence. It lasted three days;
the quantity of ammunition expended was enormous, and the result was
one man wounded!”

79 So Strabo describes it, IX. 1, § 12. For further details consult the
_Guide Joanne_ for Athens (1888), p. 201.

_ 80 De Legg._, II. 14, § 36.

_ 81 in Cer._ v. 480.

_ 82 Thren._ (frag.)

_ 83 Œd.__ Col._ 1042.

_ 84 Ran._ 455.

_ 85 Phæd._ cc. 29, 30.

_ 86 Paneg._ § 6.

_ 87 Etym. Mag._, s. v. _τελετή_.

88 There seems no doubt that some of these symbols, derived from old
nature-worship, were very gross, and quite inconsistent with modern
notions of religion. But even these were features hallowed and
ennobled by the spirit of the celebrants, whose reverence blinded
their eyes, while lifting up their hearts.