Chapter III: Part 3

It is thus that the great centres of intercommunication, or vital points of our planet, as we should like to call them, become shifted in the course of time. Port Said, an improvised town on a desert shore, has thus become a centre of attraction for travellers and merchandise, whilst the neighbouring cities of Tyre and Sidon have dwindled down into miserable villages, with nothing to indicate the proud position they held in the past. Carthage, too, has perished, and Venice decayed. Many a thriving place on the shores of the Mediterranean has been reduced to insignificance through the silting up of its harbour, the employment of larger vessels, the loss of independence, or through political changes of all kinds. But in nearly every instance some neighbouring town has taken the place of these decayed harbours, and most of the great routes of commerce have maintained their original directions, and their terminal points, as well as intermediate stations, have remained in the same localities.

There are, moreover, certain places which ships are almost obliged to frequent, and where towns of importance arise as a matter of course. Such are the Straits of Gibraltar and of Messina; such, also, are places like Genoa, Trieste, and Saloniki, which occupy the bottom of gulfs or bays penetrating far into the land. Ports offering the greatest facilities for embarking merchandise intended for foreign countries, such as Marseilles and Alexandria, are likewise natural centres of attraction to merchants. One town there is in the Mediterranean which enjoys at one and the same time every one of the geographical advantages which we have pointed out, for it is situated on a strait connecting two seas and separating two continents. This town is Constantinople, and despite the deplorable maladministration under which it suffers, its position alone has enabled it to maintain its place amongst the great cities of the world.

The ports of the Mediterranean no longer enjoy a monopoly of commerce as they did for thousands of years, but the number of ships to be met with in that inland sea is, nevertheless, proportionately far greater than what we meet with on the open oceans. The commercial marine of the Mediterranean numbers thirty-seven thousand vessels, of a capacity of two million seven hundred and ninety-six thousand tons, without counting fishing-boats. This is more than one-fourth of the entire commercial marine of the world, as respects the number of ships, and one-sixth of it as regards tonnage. This inferiority of tonnage is due to the small vessels of ancient types which still maintain their ground in Greece and Italy, and which possess certain advantages for the coasting trade.

To this marine of the Mediterranean should be added the vessels belonging to foreign ports, which visit it for purposes of trade, and amongst which those of {34} England take the most prominent rank. The Government of Great Britain has even taken care to secure itself a place amongst the Mediterranean powers. It has occupied Gibraltar, at the eastern entrance to this basin, and taken possession of Malta, which commands its centre; and although the western entrance, formed by the Suez Canal, is not in its possession, its garrisons on Perim and the rock of Aden are able at any moment to close up the only approach to it which leads from the Indian Ocean through the Red Sea.

Scale 1 : 45,000,000.]

The share which England takes in the commerce of the Mediterranean is considerable, but it is surpassed by far by that of France and Italy. A sovereign who aspired to the dominion of the world once spoke of the inland sea extending from the Strait of Gibraltar to Egypt as a “French lake;” but with equal justice might it be called a Greek, a Dalmatian, or Spanish lake, and with still greater an Italian lake. The pirates of Barbary were, in reality, the last “masters” of the Mediterranean: their swift vessels presented themselves unexpectedly before the coast towns, and carried off their inhabitants. But since their predatory fleets have been destroyed, the Mediterranean has become the common property of the world, and the meshes of an international network of maritime highways become closer from year to year. The merchantmen no longer pursue their voyages in company as they did in former times, discharging their cargo from port to port, for a single vessel may venture now into any portion of the Mediterranean in safety. Still there remain the dangers of reefs and of storms. The art of navigation has made vast progress; most of the capes, at least on the coasts of Europe, are lit up by lighthouses; the approaches to the ports are rendered easy by lightships, buoys, and beacons; but shipwrecks are nevertheless of frequent occurrence. Even large vessels founder sometimes, without leaving a stray plank behind to indicate the place of their disappearance.

Steamers travelling along prescribed routes are now gradually taking the place of sailing vessels, and where they cross at frequent intervals they may be {35} likened to ferry-boats crossing a river. The regularity and speed of these steam ferries; the facilities which they afford for the conveyance of merchandise; the increasing number of railways which convey the produce of the interior to the seaports; and lastly, the submarine telegraphs, which have established instantaneous means of communication between the principal ports, all contribute towards the growth of Mediterranean commerce. This commerce, including imports and exports, and the transit through the Suez Canal, actually amounts to about £353,000,000, a year.[12] This may not be much for a maritime population of a hundred millions, but a perceptible increase is taking place from year to year. We should also bear in mind that, face to face with the busy peninsulas of Europe, there lies torrid Africa, an inert mass, avoided by the sailors of our own age as much as it was by those of ancient Greece. Its coasts are hardly ever visited, with the exception of those portions which extend from Oran to Tunis, and from Alexandria to Port Said. It is matter of surprise, too, that certain localities which formerly attracted crowds of vessels, such as Cyrenaica, Cyprus, and beautiful Crete, at the very entrance to the Archipelago, should still remain outside the ordinary track of our steamers.

{36}

GREECE.

I.—GENERAL ASPECTS.

Greece, within its confined political boundaries, to the south of the Gulfs of Arta and Volo, is a country of about nineteen thousand square miles, or at most equal to the ten-millionth part of the earth’s surface. Within the vast empire of Russia there are many districts more extensive than the whole of Greece, but there is nothing which distinguishes these from other districts which surround them, and their names call forth no idea in our mind. The little country of the Hellenes, however, so insignificant upon our maps—how many memories does it not awaken ! In no other part of the world had man attained a degree of civilisation equally harmonious in all respects, or more favourable to individual development. Even now, though carried along within an historical cycle far more vast than that of the Greeks, we should do well to look back frequently in order to contemplate those small nations, who are still our masters in the arts, and first initiated us into science. The city which was the “school of Greece” still remains the school of the entire world; and after twenty centuries of decay, like some of those extinct stars whose luminous rays yet reach the earth, still continues to enlighten us.

The considerable part played by the people of Greece during many ages must undoubtedly be ascribed to the geographical position of their country. Other tribes having the same origin, but inhabiting countries less happily situated—such, for instance, as the Pelasgians of Illyria, who are believed to be the ancestors of the Albanians—have never risen above a state of barbarism, whilst the Hellenes placed themselves at the head of civilised nations, and opened fresh paths to their enterprise. If Greece had remained for ever what it was during the tertiary geological epoch—a vast plain attached to the deserts of Libya, and run over by lions and the rhinoceros—would it have become the native country of a Phidias, an Æschylos, or a Demosthenes? Certainly not. It would have shared the fate of Africa, and, far from taking the initiative in civilisation, would have waited for an impulse to be given to it from beyond. {37}

Greece, a sub-peninsula of the peninsula of the Balkans, was even more completely protected by transverse mountain barriers in the north than was Thracia or Macedonia. Greek culture was thus able to develop itself without fear of being stifled at its birth by successive invasions of barbarians. Mounts Olympus, Pelion, and Ossa, towards the north and east of Thessaly, constituted the first line of formidable obstacles towards Macedonia. A second barrier, the steep range of the Othrys, runs along what is the present political boundary of Greece. To the south of the Gulf of Lamia a fresh obstacle awaits us, for the range of the Œta closes the passage, and there is but the narrow pass of the Thermopylæ between it and the sea. Having crossed the mountains of the Locri and descended into the basin of Thebæ, there still remain to be crossed the Parnes or the spurs of the Cithæron before we reach the plains of Attica. The “isthmus” beyond these is again defended by transverse barriers, outlying ramparts, as it were, of the mountain citadel of the Peloponnesus, that acropolis of all Greece. Hellas has frequently been compared to a series of chambers, the doors of which were strongly bolted; it was difficult to get in, but more difficult to get out again, owing to their stout defenders. Michelet likens Greece to a trap having three compartments. You entered, and found yourself taken first in Macedonia, then in Thessaly, then between the Thermopylæ and the isthmus. But the difficulties increase beyond the isthmus, and Lacedæmonia remained impregnable for a long time.

At an epoch when the navigation even of a land-locked sea like the Ægean was attended with danger, Greece found herself sufficiently protected against the invasions of oriental nations; but, at the same time, no other country held out such inducements to the pacific expeditions of merchants. Gulfs and harbours facilitated access to her Ægean coasts, and the numerous outlying islands were available as stations or as places of refuge. Greece, therefore, was favourably placed for entering into commercial intercourse with the more highly civilised peoples who dwelt on the opposite coasts of Asia Minor. The colonists and voyagers of Eastern Ionia not only supplied their Achæan and Pelasgian kinsmen with foreign commodities and merchandise, but they also imparted to them the myths, the poetry, the sciences, and the arts of their native country. Indeed, the geographical configuration of Greece points towards the east, whence she has received her first enlightenment. Her peninsulas and outlying islands extend in that direction; the harbours on her eastern coasts are most commodious, and afford the best shelter; and the mountain-surrounded plains there offer the best sites for populous cities. Greece, at the same time, does not share the disadvantage of Turkey, which is almost cut off from the western world by a mountain region difficult to cross. The Ionian Sea, to the west of the Peloponnesus, it is true, is, comparatively speaking, a desert; but farther north the Gulf of Corinth almost cuts in two the Greek peninsula, and the sight of the distant mountains of Italy, which are visible from the Ionian Islands, must have incited to an exploration of the western seas. The Acarnanians, who knew how to build vaults long before the Romans, were thus brought early into contact with the Italians, to whom they imparted their {38} knowledge, and at a subsequent period the Greeks became the civilisers of the whole western world of the Mediterranean.

The most distinctive feature of Hellas, as far as concerns the relief of the ground, consists in the large number of small basins, separated one from the other by rocks or mountain ramparts. The features of the ground thus favoured the division of the Greek people into a multitude of independent republics. Every town had its river, its amphitheatre of hills or mountains, its acropolis, its fields, pastures, and forests, and nearly all of them had, likewise, access to the sea. All the elements required by a free community were thus to be found within each of these small districts, and the neighbourhood of other towns, equally favoured, kept alive perpetual emulation, too frequently degenerating into strife and battle. The islands of the Ægean Sea, likewise, had constituted themselves into miniature republics. Local institutions thus developed themselves freely, and even the smallest island of the Archipelago has its great representatives in history.

But whilst there thus exists the greatest diversity, owing to the configuration of the ground and the multitude of islands, the sea acts as a binding element, washes every coast, and penetrates far inland. These gulfs and numerous harbours have made the maritime inhabitants of Greece a nation of sailors—amphibiæ, as Strabo called them. From the most remote times the passion for travel has always been strong amongst them. When the inhabitants of a town grew too numerous to support themselves upon the produce of their land, they swarmed out like bees, explored the coasts of the Mediterranean, and, when they had found a site which recalled their native home, they built themselves a new city. It was thus Greek cities arose in hundreds of places, from the Mæotis Palus to beyond the columns of Hercules—from Tanais and Panticapæum to Gades and Tingis, the modern Tangier. Thanks to those numerous colonies, some of them more powerful and renowned than the mother towns which gave birth to them, the veritable Greece, the Greece of science and art and republican independence, in the end overflowed its ancient cradle, and sporadically occupied the whole circumference of the Mediterranean. The Greeks held the same position relatively to the world of the ancients which is occupied at the present time by the Anglo-Saxons with reference to the entire earth. There exists, indeed, a remarkable analogy between Greece, with its archipelago, and the British Islands, at the other extremity of the continent. Similar geographical advantages have brought about similar results, as far as commerce is concerned, and between the Ægean and the British seas time and space have effected a sort of harmony.

* * * * *

The admiration with which travellers behold Greece is due, above all, to the memories attaching to every one of its ruins, to the smallest amongst its rivulets, and the most insignificant rock in its seas. Scenery in Provence or Spain, though it may surpass in grace or boldness of outline anything to be seen in Greece, is appreciated only by a few. The mass go past it without emotion, for names like Marathon, Leuctra, or Platææ are not connected with it, and the rustle of bygone ages is not heard. But even if glorious memories were not associated with the {39} coasts of Greece, their beauty would nevertheless entitle them to our admiration. In the gulfs of Athens or of Argos the artist is charmed not only with the azure blue of the waters, the transparency of the sky, the ever-changing perspective along the shores, and the boldness of the promontories, but also with the pure and graceful profile of the mountains, which consist of layers of limestone or of marble. We almost fancy we look upon architectural piles; and the temples with which many a summit is adorned appear to epitomize them.

It is verdure and the sparkling water of rivulets which we miss most on the shores of Greece. Nearly all the mountains near the coast have been despoiled of their large trees. There remain only bushes, mastic, strawberry, and juniper trees, and evergreen oaks; even the carpet of odoriferous herbs which clothes the declivities, and upon which the goat browses, has in many instances been reduced to a few miserable patches. Torrents of rain have carried away the mould, and the naked rock appears on the surface. From a distance we only see greyish declivities, dotted here and there with a few wretched shrubs. Even in the days of Strabo most mountains along the coasts had been robbed of their forests, and one of our modern authors says that “Greece is a skeleton only of what it used to be !” By a sort of irony, geographical names derived from trees abound throughout Hellas and Turkey: Caryæ is the “town of walnut-trees,” Valanidia that of the Valonia oaks, Kyparissi that of cypresses, Platanos or Plataniki that of plane-trees. Everywhere we meet with localities whose appellation is justified by nothing. Forests at the present day are confined almost entirely to the interior and to the Ionian coast. The Œta Mountains, some of the mountains of Ætolia, the hills of Acarnania, and Arcadia, Elis, Triphylia, and the slopes of the Taygetus, in the Peloponnesus, still retain their forests. And it is only in these forest districts, visited solely by herdsmen, that savage animals, such as the wolf, the fox, and the jackal, are now met with. The chamois, it is said, still haunts the recesses of the Pindus and Œta Mountains; but the wild boar of the Erymanthus, which must have been a distinct species if we are to judge by antique sculptures, exists no more in Greece, and the lion, still mentioned by Aristotle, has not been seen for two thousand years. Amongst the smaller animals there is a turtle, common in some parts of the Peloponnesus, which the natives look upon with the same aversion as do many western nations upon the toad and the salamander.

Greece is a small country, but the variety of its climate is nevertheless great. Striking differences in the climate of different localities are produced by the contrasts between mountains and plains, woodlands and sterile valleys, coasts having a northern or southern aspect. But even leaving out of sight these local differences, it may safely be asserted that the varieties of climate which we meet with in traversing Greece from north to south are scarcely exceeded in any other region. The mountains of Ætolia, in the north, whose slopes are covered with beech-trees, remind us of the temperate zone of Europe, whilst the peninsulas and islands towards the east and south, with their thickets of fig and olive trees, their plantations of oranges and lemons, their aloe hedges and rare palm-trees, belong to the sub-tropical zone. But even neighbouring districts occasionally {40} differ strikingly as regards climate. In the ancient lake basin of Bœotia the winters are cold, the summers scorching, whilst the temperature of the eastern shore of Eubœa is equable, owing to the moderating influence of sea breezes. Within a narrow compass Greece presents us with the climates of a large portion of the earth, and there can be no doubt that this diversity of climate, and the contrasts of every kind springing from it, must have favourably influenced the intellectual development of the Hellenes. A spirit of inquiry was called forth amongst them which reacted upon their commercial tastes and industrial proclivities.

The diversity of the climate of the land, however, is compensated for, in Greece, by a uniformity in the climate of the maritime districts. As in a mountain valley, the winds of the Ægean Sea blow alternately in contrary directions. During nearly the whole of summer the atmospheric currents of Eastern Europe are attracted towards the African deserts. The winds from the north of the Archipelago and Macedonia then speed the navigator on his voyage to the south, and on many occasions the conquering tribes of the northern shores of that sea have availed themselves of them in their improvised attacks upon the inhabitants of the more southern districts of Asia Minor and of Greece. These regular northerly currents, known as etesian or annual winds, cease on the termination of the hot season, when the sun stands above the southern tropic. They are, moreover, interrupted every night, when the cool sea air is attracted by the heated surface of the land. When the sun has set the wind gradually subsides; there is a calm, lasting a few moments; and then the air begins to move in an inverse direction—“the land begins to blow,” as the sailors say. Nor is this regular wind without its counter-current, known as the _embates_, or propitious south-easterly breeze of which the poets sing. General winds and breezes, moreover, are deflected from their original directions in consequence of the configuration of the coast and the direction of mountain chains. The Gulf of Corinth, for instance, is shut in by high mountains on the north and the south, and the winds alternately enter it from the east or west—a phenomenon likened by Strabo to the breathing of an animal.

The rains, like the winds, deviate in many places from the average, and whilst the water pours down into some mountain valleys as into a funnel, elsewhere the clouds drift past without parting with a drop of their humid burden. Contrasts in the amount of precipitation are thus added to those resulting from differences of configuration and variety of climate. As a rule, rain is more abundant on the western shores of Greece than on the eastern, and this fact accounts for the smiling aspect of the hills of Elis, as compared with the barren declivities of Argolis and Attica. Thunder-storms, driven before the winds of the Mediterranean, likewise recur with greater regularity in the western portion of the peninsula. In Elis and Acarnania the roll of thunder may be heard in spring daily, for whole weeks, in the afternoon. No sites more apposite could have been found for temples dedicated to Jupiter, the god of lightning.

* * * * *

The ancient inhabitants of the Cyclades, and probably, also, those of the coasts {41} of Hellas and Asia Minor, had already attained a considerable amount of culture long before the commencement of our historical records. This has been proved by excavations made in the volcanic ashes of Santorin and Therasia. At the time their houses were buried beneath the ashes, the Santoriniotes had begun to pass from the age of stone into that of copper. They knew how to build arches of stone and mortar, they manufactured lime, used weights made of blocks of lava, wove cloth, made pottery, dyed their stuffs, and ornamented their houses with frescoes; they cultivated barley, peas, and lentils, and had begun to trade with distant countries.

We do not know whether these men were of the same race as the Hellenes; but thus much is certain—that at the earliest dawn of history the islands and coasts of the Ægean Sea were peopled by various families of Greeks, whilst the interior of the country and the western shores of the peninsula were inhabited by Pelasgians. These Pelasgians, moreover, were of the same stock as the Greeks, and they spoke a language derived from the same source as the dialects of the Hellenes. Both were Aryans, and, unless natives of the soil, they must have immigrated into Greece from Asia Minor by crossing the Hellespont, or by way of the islands of the Archipelago. The Pelasgians, according to tradition, sprang from Mount Lycæus, in the centre of the Peloponnesus; they boasted of being “autochthons,” “men of the black soil,” “children of oaks,” or “men born before the moon.” All around them lived tribes of kindred origin, such as the Æolians and the Leleges, and these were afterwards joined by Ionians and Achæans. The Ionians, who, in a subsequent age, exercised so great an influence over the destinies of the world, only occupied the peninsula of Attica and the neighbouring Eubœa. The Achæans for a long time enjoyed a preponderance, and in the end the Greek clans collectively became known by that name. Later on, when the Dorians had crossed the Gulf of Corinth where it is narrowest, and established themselves as conquerors in the Peloponnesus, the Amphictyons, or national councils, sitting alternately at Thermopylæ and Delphi, conferred the name of Hellenes, which was that of a small tribe in Thessaly and Phthiotis, upon all the inhabitants of the peninsula and the islands. The name of Greek, which signifies, perhaps, “mountaineer,” “ancient,” or “son of the soil,” gradually spread amongst the nation, and in the end became general. The Ionians of Asia Minor, and the Carians of the Sporades, emulated the Phœnicians by trading from port to port amongst these half-savage tribes, and, like bees which convey the fecundating pollen from flower to flower, they carried the civilisation of Egypt and the East from tribe to tribe.

Phœnician merchants and Roman conquerors scarcely modified the elements composing the population of Hellas, but during the age of migrations barbarians in large numbers penetrated into Greece. For more than two centuries did the Avares maintain themselves in the Peloponnesus. Then came the Slavs, aided, on more than one occasion, by the plague in depopulating the country. Greece became a Slavonia, and a Slavonian language, probably Servian, was universally spoken, as is proved by the majority of geographical names. The superstitions and legends {42} of the modern Greeks, as has been remarked by many authors, are not simply a heritage derived from the ancient Hellenes, but have become enriched by phantoms and vampires of Slav invention. The dress of the Greeks, too, is a legacy of their northern conquerors. But, in spite of this, the polished language of the Hellenes {43} has regained by degrees its ancient preponderance, and the race has so thoroughly amalgamated these foreign immigrants, that it is impossible now to trace any Servian elements in the population. But hardly had Hellas escaped the danger of becoming Slav when it was threatened with becoming Albanian. This occurred during the dominion of Venice. As recently as the commencement of the present century Albanian was the dominant language of Elis, Argos, Bœotia, and Attica, and even at the present day a hundred thousand supposed Hellenes still speak it. The actual population of Greece is, therefore, a very mixed one, but it is difficult to say in what proportions these Hellenic, Slav, and Albanian elements have combined. The Mainotes, or Maniotes, of the peninsula terminating in Cape Matapan, are generally supposed to be the Greeks of the purest blood. They themselves claim to be the descendants of the ancient Spartans, and amongst their strongholds they still point out one which belonged to “Signor Lycurgus.” Their Councils of Elders have preserved from immemorial times, and down to the war of independence, the title of Senate of Lacedæmonia. Every Mainote professes to love unto death “Liberty, the highest of all goods, inherited from our Spartan ancestors.” Nevertheless, a good many localities in Maina bear names derived from the Servian, and these prove, at all events, that the Slavs resided in the country for a considerable time. The Mainotes practise the _vendetta_, as if they were Montenegrins. But is not this a common custom amongst all uncivilised nations?

However this may be, in spite of invasions and intermixture with other races, the Greeks of to-day agree in most points with the Greeks of the past. Above all things, they have preserved their language, and it is truly matter for surprise that the vulgar Greek, though derived from a rural dialect, should differ so slightly only from the literary language. The differences, analogous to what may be observed with respect to the languages derived from the Latin, are restricted almost to two points, viz. the contraction of non-accentuated syllables and the use of auxiliary verbs. It was, therefore, easy for the modern Greeks to purify their language from barbarisms and foreign terms, and to restore it gradually to what it was in the time of Thucydides. Nor has the race changed much in its physical features, for in most districts of modern Greece the ancient types may yet be recognised. The Bœotian is still distinguished by that heavy gait which made him an object of ridicule amongst the other Greeks; the Athenian youth possesses the suppleness, grace of movement and bearing which we admire so much in the horsemen sculptured on the friezes of the Parthenon; the Spartan women have preserved that haughty and vigorous beauty which constituted the charm of the virgins of Doris. As regards morals, the descent of the modern Hellenes is equally evident. Like their ancestors, they are fond of change, and inquisitive; as the descendants of free citizens, they have preserved a feeling of equality; and, still infatuated with dialectics, they hold forth at all times as if they were in the ancient market-place, or Agora. They frequently stoop to flattery: like the ancient Greeks, too, they are apt to rate intellectual merit above purity of morals. {44} Like sage Ulysses of the Homeric poem, they well know how to lie and cheat with grace; and the truthful Acarnanian and the Mainote, who are “slow to promise, but sure to keep,” are looked upon as rural oddities. Another trait in the character of the modern and ancient Greeks, and one which distinguishes them from all other Europeans, is this—that they do not allow themselves to be carried away by passion, except in the cause of patriotism. The Greek is a stranger to melancholy: he loves life, and is determined to enjoy it. In battle he may throw it away, but suicide is a species of death unknown amongst the modern Greeks, and the more unhappy they are, the more they cling to existence. They are very seldom afflicted with insanity.

In spite of the diverse elements which compose it, the Greek nationality is one of the most homogeneous in Europe. The Albanians, of Pelasgian descent like the Greeks, do not cede to the latter in patriotism; and it was they—the Suliotes, Hydriotes, Spezziotes—who fought most valiantly for national independence. The eight hundred families of Rumanian or Kutzo-Wallachian Zinzares who pasture their herds in the hills of Acarnania and Ætolia, and are known as Kara-Gunis, or “black cloaks,” speak the two languages, and sometimes marry Greek girls, though they never give their own daughters in marriage to the Greeks. Haughty and free, they are not sufficiently numerous to be of any great importance. To foreigners the Greeks are rather intolerant, and they take no pains to render their stay amongst them agreeable. The Turks—who were numerous formerly in certain parts of the Peloponnesus, in Bœotia, and in the {45} island of Eubœa, and whose presence recalled an unhappy period of servitude—have fled to a man, and only the fez, the narghile, and the slippers remind us of their former presence. The Jews, though met with in every town of the East, whether Slav or Mussulman, dare hardly enter the presence of the Greeks, who are, moreover, their most redoubtable rivals in matters of finance: they are to be found only in the Ionian Islands, where they managed to get a footing during the British Protectorate. In this same Archipelago we likewise meet with the descendants of the ancient Venetian colonists, and with emigrants from all parts of Italy. French and Italian families still form a distinct element of the population of Naxos, Santorin, and Syra. As to the Maltese porters and gardeners at Athens and Corfu, they continue for the most part in subordinate positions, and never associate with the Greeks.

* * * * *

The homogeneous character of the population of Greece does not admit of that country being divided into ethnological provinces, like Turkey or Austro-Hungary, but it consists geographically of four distinct portions. These are (1), continental Hellas, known since the Turkish invasion as Rumelia, in remembrance of the “Roman” empire of Byzantium; (2), the ancient Peloponnesus, now called the Morea, perhaps a transposition of the word “Romea,” or from a Slav word signifying “sea coast,” and applied formerly to Elis; (3), the islands of the Ægean Sea; (4), the Ionian Islands. In describing the various portions of Greece we shall make use, in preference, of the ancient names of mountains, rivers, and towns; for the Hellenes of our own day, proud of the glories of the past, are endeavouring gradually to get rid of names of Slav or Italian origin, which still figure upon the maps of their country.[13]

II.—CONTINENTAL GREECE.

The Pindus, which forms the central chain of Southern Turkey, passes over into Greece, and imparts to it an analogous orographical character. On both sides of this conventional boundary we meet with the same rocks, the same vegetation, the same landscape features, and the same races of people. By dividing the Epirus and handing over Thessaly to the Turks, European diplomacy has paid no attention to natural features. The eastern portion of the boundary is made to follow the line of water parting over the range of the lofty Othrys, commanding the plain of the Sperchius. Westward of the Pindus the boundary {46} crosses transversely the valley of the Achelous, and the hills which separate it from the Gulf of Arta.

The isolated summit of Mount Tymphrestus, or Velukhi, which rises where the grand chain of the Othrys branches off from the Pindus, is not the culminating point of continental Greece, but it is a centre from which the principal mountain spurs and rivers radiate. Within its spurs lies hidden the charming valley of Karpenisi, and an elevated ridge joins them, towards the south-east, to the most important mountain mass of modern Greece, viz. the group surmounted by the snow-clad pyramids of the Vardusia and Khiona, whose slopes are covered with dark firs, and to the superb Katavothra, the Œta of the ancients, on which Hercules built his funeral pile. The mountains of Vardusia and Khiona are face to face with the fine mountain masses of Northern Morea, likewise wooded and covered with snow during the greater part of the year.

The mountains of Ætolia, to the west of the Velukhi and the Vardusia, are far less elevated, but they are rugged, and form a veritable chaos of rocks, savage defiles, and thickets, into which only Wallachian herdsmen venture. In Southern Ætolia, on the shores of the lakes and along the rivers, the country is more accessible, but mountains rise there likewise, and by tortuous ridges they are brought into connection with the system of the Pindus. Those on the coast of Acarnania, opposite to the Ionian Islands, are steep, covered with trees and shrubs; they are the mountains of the “Black Continent” mentioned by Ulysses. {47} To the east of the Achelous there is another coast chain, well known to mariners: this is the Zygos, the southern slopes of which, arid and austere, are seen from off Missolonghi. Still further to the east another range comes down to the seashore, and, together with the promontories on the opposite coast of the Morea, forms the narrow entrance to the Gulf of Corinth. Close to this entrance, on the Ætolian side, there rises bold Mount Varassova, a huge block of rock. Local tradition tells us that the Titans endeavoured to throw this rock into the sea, so that it might form a bridge between the two coasts; but the rock proved too heavy, and it was dropped where we now see it.

Towards the Ægean Sea the mountain mass of the Katavothra is continued by a coast range running in a direction parallel to the mountains of the island of Eubœa. This range should be described rather as a series of mountain-groups separated from each other by deep hollows, extensive depressions, and even by river valleys. These mountains, though low and intersected by numerous roads, are nevertheless difficult of access, for their slopes are steep, their promontories abrupt, and their precipices sudden, and in the times of the ancient Greeks a small number of men repeatedly defended them against large armies. At one extremity of this range is the passage of Thermopylæ; at the other, on the eastern foot of the Pentelicus, the famous plain of Marathon.

The mountain groups on the northern shore of the Gulf of Corinth, and to the south of Bœotia, may be looked upon as a range running parallel with that following the channel of Eubœa, but far more beautiful and picturesque. Every one of its summits recalls the sweet memories of poetry, or conjures up the image of some ancient deity. To the west we find ourselves in the presence of “double-headed” Parnassus, to which fled Deucalion and Pyrrha, the ancestors of the Greeks, and where the Athenians celebrated their torchlight dances in honour of Bacchus. From the summits of the Parnassus, which rival in height those of the Khiona, raising its pyramidal head towards the north-west, nearly the whole of Greece, with its gulfs, islands, and mountains, lies spread out below us, from the Thessalian Olympus to the Taygetus, at the extremity of the Peloponnesus; and close by, at our feet, lies the admirable basin of Delphi, the place of Peace and Concord, where Greeks forgot their animosities. The mountain group towards the east next to Parnassus is quite equal to it. The valleys of the Helicon, the seat of Apollo and the Muses, are still the most verdant and the most smiling in all Greece. The eastern slope of the Helicon is more especially distinguished for its charming beauty, its woods, its verdant pastures, gardens, and murmuring springs, which contrast most favourably with the bare and arid plains of Bœotia. If Mount Parnassus may boast of the Castalian spring, Mount Helicon possesses that of Hippocrene, which burst forth from the ground when struck by the hoof of Pegasus. The elongated summit of the Cithæron, the birthplace of Bacchus, joins the mountains of Southern Bœotia to those of Attica, whose marble has become famous through the neighbourhood of the city which they shelter. Mount Parnes rises to the north of Athens; to the east of it, like the pediment of a temple, rises the Pentelicus, in which are {48} the quarries of Pikermi, rendered famous through their fossil bones; on the south appears Mount Hymettus, celebrated for its flowers and its bees. Farther away, the Laurium, with its rich argentiferous slags, stretches towards the south-east, and terminates in Cape Sunium, consecrated in other days to Minerva and Neptune, and still surmounted by fifteen columns of an ancient temple.

Another isolated mountain group to the south of Attica, and occupying the entire width of the Isthmus of Megara, served the Athenians as a rampart of defence against their neighbours of the Peloponnesus. This is the mountain group of Gerania, the modern Pera Khora.[14] Having passed beyond it, we find ourselves upon the Isthmus of Corinth, properly so called, confined between the Gulfs of Athens and of Corinth. It is a narrow neck of land, scarcely five miles across, whose arid limestone rocks hardly rise two hundred feet above the sea. This neutral bit of territory, lying between two distinct geographical regions, naturally became a place for meetings, festivals, and markets. The remains of a wall built by the Peloponnesians across the isthmus may still be traced, as may also the canal commenced by order of Nero.

* * * * *

The limestone mountains of Greece, as well as those of the Epirus and of Thessaly, abound in lakes, but all the rivers are swallowed up in “sinks,” or _katavothras_, leaving the land dry and arid. Southern Acarnania, a portion of which is known as Xeromeros, or the “arid country,” on account of the absence of running water, abounds in lake basins of this kind. To the south of the Gulf of Arta, which may not inaptly be described as a sort of lake communicating with the sea through a narrow opening, there are several sheets of water, the remains of an inland sea, silted up by the alluvial deposits of the Achelous. The largest of these lakes is known to the natives as Pelagos, or “big sea,” because of its extent and the agitated state of its waters, which break against its coasts. This is the Trichonius of the ancient Ætolians. Reputed unfathomable, it is, in truth, very deep, and its waters are perfectly pure; but they are discharged sluggishly into another basin far less extensive, and surrounded by pestilential marshes, and through a turgid stream they even find their way into the Achelous. The hills surrounding Lake Trichonis are covered with villages and fields, whilst the locality around the lower lake has been depopulated by fever. The country, nevertheless, is exceedingly beautiful to look upon. Hardly have we passed through a narrow gorge, or _klisura_, of Mount Zygos before we enter upon a bridge over a mile in length, which a Turkish governor caused to be thrown across the swamps separating the two lakes. This viaduct has sunk down more than half its {49} height into the mud, but it is still sufficiently elevated to enable the eye freely to sweep over the surface of the waters, and to trace the coasts which bound them. Oaks, planes, and wild olive-trees intermingle beneath us, their branches hung with festoons of wild vine, and these, with the blue waters of the lake and the mountains rising beyond it, form a picture of great beauty.

Scale 1 : 800,000.]

Another lake basin lies to the south of the Zygos, between the alluvial lands of the Achelous and the Fidari. It is occupied by a swamp filled with fresh, brackish, or salt water; and since the days of ancient Greece, this swamp, owing to the apathy of the inhabitants, has continued to increase in extent at the expense of the cultivated land. Missolonghi the heroic is indebted for its name to its position near these marshes, for the meaning of it is “centre of marshes.” A barrier, or _ramma_, here and there broken through by the floods, separates the basin of Missolonghi from the Ionian Sea. During the war of independence every opening in this barrier was protected by redoubts or stockades, but at present the only obstruction consists of the reed barriers of the fishermen, which are opened in spring to admit the fish from the sea, and closed in summer to prevent their escape. Missolonghi, though surrounded by brackish water, is a healthy place, thanks to the breezes from the sea; whilst a heavy atmosphere charged with miasmata hangs perpetually over the bustling little town of Ætoliko (Anatolikon), which lies farther to the north-west in the midst of the swamps, and is joined to the dry land by two bridges. Between Ætoliko and the river Achelous may be observed a large number of rocky eminences, rising like pyramids above the plain. These are no doubt ancient islands, such as still exist between the mainland and the island of St. Mauro. The mud brought down by the Achelous has gradually converted the intervals between these {50} rocks into dry land. In former times the commercial city of Œniadæ occupied one of these islets. The geological changes already noticed by Herodotus are thus still going on under our eyes, and the muds of the Achelous, to which it owes its modern name of Aspro, or “white,” incessantly extend the land at the expense of the sea.

From the French Staff Map (1852). Scale 1 : 330,000.]

The Achelous, which the ancients likened to a savage bull, owing to its rapid current and great volume, is by far the most important river of Greece. One of the great feats ascribed to Hercules consisted in breaking off one of the horns of this bull; that is to say, he embanked the river, and thus protected the lands which it used to inundate. The neighbours of the Achelous, the rapid Fidari (Evenus, on the banks of which Hercules killed the centaur Nessus, for offering violence to Dejanira) and the Mornos, which rises in the snows of the Œta, cannot compare with it. Still less is it equalled by the Oropus, the Cephissus, and the Ilissus, “wet only when it rains,” which flow eastward into the Ægean Sea. The principal river of Eastern Greece, the Sperchius, is inferior to the Achelous, but, like it, has extensively changed the aspect of the plain near its mouth. When Leonidas and his three hundred heroes guarded the defiles of Thermopylæ against the Persians, the Gulf of Lamia extended much farther into the land than it does now. But the alluvial deposits of the river have extended its delta, and several rivulets which formerly flowed {51} directly into the sea have now to be numbered amongst its tributaries; the sea has retired from the foot of the Callidromus for a distance of several miles; and the narrow pass of Thermopylæ has been converted into a plain sufficiently wide to enable an entire army to manœuvre upon it. The hot springs which gush from the rocks, by forming deposits of calcareous tufa, may likewise have contributed towards this change of coast-line; nor are more violent convulsions of nature precluded in a volcanic region like this, subject to frequent earthquakes. Sailors still point out a small island in this neighbourhood, formed of scoriæ, from which the incensed Hercules hurled his companion, Lichas, into the ocean. Hot springs abound on the opposite coast of Eubœa, and the incrustations formed by them are so considerable as to assume the appearance of glaciers when seen from a distance. A bathing establishment exists now near the hot sulphur springs of Thermopylæ, and strangers are thus enabled to explore this region, so rich in memories of a great past. The pedestal, however, upon which reposed the figure of a marble lion, placed there in honour of Leonidas, has been destroyed by ruthless hands, and utilised in the construction of a mill !

The basin of the Cephissus, enclosed by the chains of the Œta and Parnassus, is one of the most remarkable from an hydrological point of view. The river first flows through a bottom-land formerly a lake, and then, forcing for itself a passage through a narrow defile commanded by the spurs of Mount Parnassus, it winds round the rock upon which stood the ancient city of Orchomenus, and enters upon a vast plain, where swamps and lakes are embedded amidst cultivated fields and reed-banks. These swamps are fed, likewise, by numerous torrents descending from the Helicon and other mountains in its vicinity. One of these is the torrent of Livadia, into which the bounteous springs of Memory and Oblivion—Mnemosyne and Lethe—discharge themselves. In summer a large portion of the plain is dry, and it yields a bountiful harvest of maize, the stalks of which are sweet like sugar-cane. But after the heavy rains of autumn and winter the waters rise twenty, and even twenty-five feet, and the plain is converted into a vast lake, ninety-six square miles in extent. The myth of the deluge of Ogyges almost leads us to believe that the rising floods occasionally invaded every valley which debouches into this basin. To the ancients the shallower part of this lake was known as Cephissus, and its deep eastern portion as Copais, from Copæ, a town occupying a promontory on its northern shore, and now called Topolias.

From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 500,000.

K. Katavothras.]

The importance of regulating the floods just referred to, and of preventing the sudden overflow of the waters to the destruction of the cultivated fields, may readily be imagined. The ancient Greeks made an effort to accomplish this task. To the east of the large Lake of Copais there is another lake basin, about one hundred and thirty feet lower, and encompassed by precipitous rocks, incapable of cultivation. This basin, the Hylice of the Bœotians, appears to be made by nature for receiving the superabundant waters of the Copais. The remains of a canal may still be traced in the plain, which was evidently intended to convey into {52} it the floods of the Copais, but it appears never to have been completed. No doubt care was taken to keep open the various _katavothras_, or subterranean channels, through which the waters of the Copaic lake discharge themselves into the sea. One of these, on the north-western shore of the lake, and close to the rock of Orchomenus, swallowed up the river Melas, and conveyed its waters to the Gulf of Atalanta. Farther to the east other subterranean channels flow towards Lakes Hylice and Paralimni, but the most important of these channels are towards the north-east, in the Gulf of Kokkino. In that extreme angle of the lake, the veritable Copais, the waters of the Cephissus rush against the foot of Mount Skroponeri, and are swallowed up by the ground so as to form a subterranean delta. To the south there is a cavernous opening in the rock, but this is merely a sort of tunnel passing underneath a promontory, and, except during the rainy season, it may be traversed dry-shod. Beyond this, another opening swallows up one of the most important branches of the Cephissus, which makes its reappearance in the shape of bounteous springs pouring their waters into the sea. Two other branches of the river disappear in the rocks about a mile farther north. They join soon afterwards, and flow northwards beneath the bottom of a sinuous valley. The old Greek engineers dug pits in this valley, which enabled them to descend to the subterranean waters, and to clear away obstructions interfering with their flow. Sixteen of these pits have been discovered between the opening of the katavothra and the place where the waters reappear. Some of these are still thirty to one hundred feet in depth; but most of them have become choked up with stones and earth. These ancient engineering works, which Crates vainly endeavoured to restore in the time of Alexander, may possibly date {53} from the mythical age of King Minyas of Orchomenus,[15] and the successful draining of these marshes may account for the well-filled treasury of that king spoken of by Homer. Thus the ingenuity of the Homeric age had succeeded in accomplishing a work of the engineering art which baffles our modern men of science !

* * * * *

The whole of Western Greece, filled as it is by the mountains of Acarnania, Ætolia, and Phocis, is condemned by nature to play a very subordinate part to the eastern provinces. In the time of the ancient Greeks these provinces were looked upon almost as a portion of the world of the barbarians, and even in our own days the Ætolians are the least cultivated of all the Greeks. There is no commerce except at a few privileged places close to the sea, such as Missolonghi, Ætoliko, Salona, and Galaxidi. The latter, which is situated on a bay, into which flows the Pleistus, a river at one time consecrated to Neptune, although quite dry during the greater part of the year, was, up to the war of independence, the busiest seaport on the Gulf of Corinth. As for Naupactus, or Epakto, (called Lepanto by the Italians), it was important merely from a strategical point of view, on account of its position at the entrance of the Gulf of Corinth, which is sometimes named after it. Many naval engagements were fought to force the entrance into the gulf, defended by the castles of Rumelia and Morea—the ancient Rhium and Antirrhium. A curious phenomenon has been observed in connection with the channel which forms the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth. Nowhere more than 36 fathoms in depth, it is subject to perpetual changes in its width, owing to the formation of alluvial deposits by maritime currents. What one current deposits is carried away by the other. At the epoch of the Peloponnesian war this channel was 7 stadia, or about 1,200 yards, wide; at the time of Strabo its width was only 5 stadia; whilst in our own days it is no less than 2,200 yards from promontory to promontory. The entrance of the Gulf of Arta, between the Turkish Epirus and Greek Acarnania, does not present the same phenomena, and its present width is about equal to that assigned to it by every ancient author; that is to say, about 1,000 yards.

The valleys and lake basins of Eastern Greece, and more especially its position between the Gulf of Corinth, the Ægean Sea, and the channel of Eubœa, which almost convert it into a peninsula, sufficiently account for the prosperity of that country. With its cities of Thebes, Athens, and Megara, it is essentially a land of historical reminiscences. The contrast between the two most important districts of this region—Bœotia and Attica—is very striking. The first of these is an inland basin, the waters of which are collected into lakes, where mists accumulate, and a rich vegetation springs forth from a fat alluvial soil. Attica, on the other hand, is arid. A thin layer of mould covers the terraces of its rocky slopes; its valleys open out into the sea; the summits of its mountains rise into an azure sky; and the blue waters of the Ægean wash their base. Had the Greeks been fearful of the sea; had they confined themselves, as in the earliest {54} ages, to the cultivation of the soil, Bœotia, no doubt, would have retained the preponderance which it enjoyed in the time of the Minyæ of wealthy Orchomenus. But the progress of navigation and the allurements of commerce, which proved irresistible to the Greeks, were bound by degrees to transfer the lead to the men of Attica. The city of Athens, which arose in the midst of the largest plain of this peninsula, therefore occupied a position which assured to it a grand future.