Chapter II: Part 2

So the Christian Powers have been for a century trying not to hear the cries of anguish and terror coming from the Ottoman Empire, because European diplomacy has decided that the only safe course is to let the "unspeakable Turk" stay where he is; and the Sultan, secure in his foul, crime-stained old Empire, which is tottering and crumbling under his feet, laughs softly, and rubs his hands in pleasant satisfaction, and the butchery goes on.

But recently the cries from Armenia became so piercing, so heartrending, and so prolonged, that the Christian people in Europe would stand it no longer. They demanded that, come what would, the Powers _must_ put a stop to the wholesale slaughter of Armenian Christians.

So the six Ambassadors of the six Great European States came together and gravely discussed what should be done.

One of the ways of diplomacy is to act very slowly. This gives time for things to come right again of themselves, and also time for the people to cool down, and not disturb the game by foolish outbursts of sentiment.

And another of the ways of diplomacy in this Eastern Question has been, with great show of indignation, to threaten the Sultan with destruction unless--he promises certain reforms for the future.

This, of course, he is perfectly willing to do. He solemnly pledges protection to the Christians, and punishment to their persecutors, without the slightest intention of carrying out the promised reforms. Indeed, he knows that he could not do it even if he wanted to. And the Powers know it too, just as well as they know _they_ would not carry out their threat to destroy his rickety throne.

But all this talk gives time, and two or three more years are thus gained for the Sultan and for the Powers, too; and in the mean time the people are pacified, because they think something is being done toward wiping out the great iniquity in the East.

But as I said, the Ambassadors of the six Powers not long ago came together, and under instructions from their various governments talked over the Armenian atrocities. Just as they were cautiously and solemnly preparing their decision, or _ultimatum_, as it is called (which was the old threat to the Sultan if the Christians were not protected), something unexpected happened.

It was not a part of the diplomatic game at all; and it was the act of an insignificant Kingdom, which had nothing whatever to say in the great European Concert.

The name of this insignificant Kingdom is the most splendid and renowned in the history of the world.

For two thousand years people in all other lands have been trying to do things as well as they did. But no such pictures, no such statues, no such architecture as theirs has ever been produced. No men have talked and thought as wisely upon great subjects. No poets have excelled theirs in grandeur. No women have been more perfect types of beauty and refinement; and no men more liberty-loving, grand, and heroic.

Now, do you know the name of this people? They were the _Ancient Greeks_. And the brave little Kingdom which has just upset all the calculations of the Great Powers is _Modern Greece_.

Since the days of her ancient splendor, poor Greece, shorn of all her glory, has been terribly humiliated.

First, the Romans broke her power; then the Venetians tore her from the Romans; and then, worse than all, she became a slave to the Turk. For a Christian nation, that means all possible suffering. And for five hundred years she was scourged and insulted by her Mohammedan master.

In the year 1820 the Greeks on the little peninsula resolved to be free, or to perish.

Like Cuba, they struggled. For nine long years Europe looked calmly on. Then people began to wonder at the invincible spirit of these new Greeks, and finally the world rang with praises of their valor, and there was an outburst of popular sympathy. Men from England and other lands volunteered to help them in their splendid fight for liberty. And Lord Byron, the great English poet, laid down his life in their cause.

At last the Great Powers began to think it would not be a bad thing to have a Christian race ruling the classic peninsula. And England, France, and Russia decided to help to put the little kingdom on its feet, and appointed its ruler.

They first selected Prince Alfred, Victoria's second son. But this did not give satisfaction. Finally, Otho, son of the King of Bavaria, was chosen, and then elected by the people, first king of Greece.

That was in 1835. In 1863, Otho was deposed, and a new king had to be found. The selection has proved to be a very wise one. King George was the son of Christian IX. of Denmark, and is therefore the brother of the Princess of Wales. During his reign of thirty-four years, Greece has steadily improved.

But all of the Greek Christians were not freed by this heroic struggle. There still remained several millions of their race in Macedonia and other parts of the Ottoman Empire. These people have looked on enviously at the prosperity and freedom of their kinsmen in Greece, and are always planning and hoping for the time when they, too, may break the Turkish yoke.

Twenty thousand of these Greeks live on the island of _Crete_, where they suffer unspeakably; not alone from the cruel oppression of Ottoman rule, but from the persecutions and daily conflicts with the Mohammedans who live with them on the island.

If you will examine a map of Europe, you will see the Greek peninsula, looking as if it had been broken into fragments and half devoured by the sea. Just south of its ragged edge lies this little island of _Crete_, of which all the world is talking to-day.

It looks as if one of the fragments of Greece had broken off and floated away a short distance, and was waiting for the tide to come some day and carry it back to its old home.

And that is just what happened long, long ago; and it seems now as if the tide had set in, which is going to float it back to its old moorings by its motherland.

The island of Crete originally belonged to Greece. It is one of the most classic spots in the world. For there, on and about Mount Ida, Jupiter, the great god of Greek mythology, is supposed to have spent his boy-hood. And Homer sung about this island, too. And he has described its _ninety cities_--which surprises us very much when we reflect that the island is a narrow strip of land only one hundred and fifty miles long; so that the ninety cities must have been set close together, like a string of beads!

However this may be, it has just three towns now, which are making history for Europe in a very remarkable fashion; and are more talked about to-day than London, Paris, and St. Petersburg.

Ever since the Greeks struggled into freedom, seventy-five years ago, and became an independent kingdom, it has been the dream of the Cretans to get back to their mother country. Recently their sufferings have been past endurance, and at last, in their helpless wretchedness, they cried out to Greece to come and take them under her protection. They said: "We are one with you in race and in religion. We speak your language; you are our natural rulers. Let us be a part of your Christian kingdom."

With splendid daring and enthusiasm Greece responded to the appeal.

King George sent men and arms and ships, and his brave young son Prince George as Admiral of the fleet, and declared his determination at all hazards to take the island under his protection. Not only would he fight the Turks in Crete or in Greece, but he would carry the war into the Ottoman Empire itself, if necessary.

The Powers were aghast. Fight the Turk! Was that not the very thing they had for a century been trying _not_ to do? Disturb the Sultan in those dominions of which he was the only safe and harmless occupant! Tear away the barrier between Europe and Asia, and let the torrent rush through--the prizes going to the strongest! What madness--what folly! What impertinence for this King George to assume such a responsibility, and to invite such a crisis!

But King George never wavered in his purpose. The Powers sent demands, and then threats, but all were met firmly by the reply, that _he should not withdraw his troops from Crete_.

What made it more difficult and exasperating was that the people--the people, who are always giving their rulers so much trouble, and making it so hard for them--were wildly applauding King George and the Greeks for the firm stand they had taken, and saying that the old fire which burned at Marathon and Thermopylae had not been extinguished; that the modern Greeks were the worthy sons of a great race!

In England, France, and Italy, public opinion has to be listened to, if their Governments would stand! When the Ambassadors and the Ministers of these three countries read the papers and the telegrams, they began to go very slowly and cautiously. But Germany and Russia, although bound, as I have already told you, by close family relationships to the King of Greece, were in hot indignation that he should have audaciously raised such a storm. He must be stopped at once in a course which might embroil Europe in a war with Turkey; and more than that, he must be punished.

Then there were more conferences, which were more solemn than before: three of the Ministers (Salisbury, Hanotaux, and Rudini) not very sure that an indignant people might not even then be planning their overthrow; and the other three, with no such apprehension, urging extreme and severe measures against Greece.

At last they thought they had found a safe compromise.

They would demand that the Sultan should give up Crete, which should have its own government, or _autonomy_, as it is called, with a ruler whom they, the Powers, should select. Greece must go home with her troops and her ships, and have nothing hereafter to do with the fate of the island.

This was considered a wise solution of the difficulty. It would satisfy public opinion in Europe, while at the same time it properly humiliated Greece, who would be rebuked before all the world.

Again something unexpected happened. The stalwart, stubborn Cretans had their own views and preferences.

They did not want autonomy at all. What they desired was _union with Greece_; and Greece declared her unaltered and unalterable determination to stand by the island at any cost, and to protect her from being coerced into a political condition she did not desire.

One small, feeble nation dared to stand up and defy the combined power of Europe!

There was indignation and amazement among the Powers, who after further consultation sent an ultimatum to Greece and to Turkey. They must both withdraw from the island of Crete within six days, or the combined fleets of six European States would compel them to do it.

The polite Sultan, who never refuses demands, of course consented at once.

But what do you think was the reply of the Prime Minister of Greece?

They were brave words! He said: _"Greece would rather be wiped off the map of Europe than yield to the threat of the Powers!"_

There were twenty thousand of her countrymen on the island, helpless, defenceless, among fierce and cruel Mohammedans. Greece had promised them protection. She would _not_ leave them to their fate!

But in the mean time the storm clouds have been gathering in other parts of the sky. The people in England and France and Italy are asking very significantly whether their Governments are expecting them to fire upon a Christian army and the Cross, in defence of the rights of the Mohammedan Empire and the Crescent?

In addition to this, another storm cloud seems to be forming over the Ottoman Empire itself. There are indications of a general uprising where Greek Christians abound.

If the clouds over Turkey and those over Europe should unite--what then? The Powers could fight battalions; but could they stand before a whirlwind of popular sentiment?

Macedonia has no doubt long cherished the hope of a reunion with Greece; and the other Graeco-Turkish provinces too. Perhaps they think the hour is at hand for realizing that hope!

Nor is it strange if Greece also has been long hoping that when the Ottoman Empire did finally crumble--as it must--she might out of the wreck be able to bring together the long-separated fragments of her race.

God grant there may be no conflict between Greece and Europe. But if it does come--and if a general overturning follows, as it might--it is not impossible that Greece may come out of it a new and greater kingdom, by a reunion of the scattered Hellenic (or Greek) peoples.

It is not at all improbable that some such dream of Hellenic unity underlies the extraordinary drama we are witnessing in the East.

Of course, it is wise to try and avert a great European war. And of course, diplomacy and tact are needed in dealing with such a delicate and complicated situation. But there are two opposing parties in England which hold different views as to the policy which should be pursued in this "Eastern Question."

Mr. Gladstone, the great and sagacious statesman, has always insisted that whatever the result, _the Christians in Turkey should be protected by Christian Europe_; and that the British policy should be a straightforward and resolute dealing with the Sultan. That is, if promised reforms are not carried out in good faith by him, the Powers should fulfil their threats to destroy his authority in his Empire.

About forty years ago the opposite policy was advocated (if not created) by another great leader and statesman, Lord Beaconsfield; and has ever since been the one pursued by Great Britain.

Its main purpose is to keep the wicked old Ottoman Empire undisturbed, and to shield it from the indignation of Europe.

Here and there the Sultan is compelled to loosen his grasp upon some exasperated and suffering province like Crete, which is set up as an _autonomous_ (or self-governing) principality (or kingdom), under a double protection from Turkey and Europe.

This looks kind, and as if the Sultan was being severely dealt with and punished. But at the same time the knowledge of Turkish atrocities is being carefully suppressed; and harrowing stories of cruelties in Bulgaria a few years ago, and in Armenia to-day, are listened to with smiling incredulity; because it is inconvenient to take notice of these things while the situation in the East is critical.

Some people think this is a very crooked and shuffling policy for the great British Empire to pursue. And others, that the Gladstone policy is sentimental and dangerous.

Of course, the policy which has been for years adopted by England is controlled entirely by motives of _interest_, and has not one lofty purpose in it. But when there was talk of making war upon Greece in _defence of the rights of the Sultan_, the Government realized it had gone one step too far.

The people would not, and _will_ not permit it. And we are rejoiced to know that the good and gracious Queen herself protests against such an act, and is deeply in sympathy with Greece and the Cretans.

It looks now very much as if the much-talked-of Concert of Europe was about to break in two as cleanly as an orange. Russia, Germany, and Austria in one half; and England, France, and Italy in the other.

The Emperor of Germany is very angry at the desertion of the other three States, and threatens dire and dreadful things.

The young Czar of Russia, with his gentle eyes and delicate face, does not look capable of severity.

But he is a Russian. And he has settled himself in the seat of his ancestors, evidently with a stern purpose of carrying out their despotic policy.

Small matter is it that King George of Greece is his mother's brother. Small matter that the young Admiral of the Greek fleet is his cousin and loved companion, whose quick, strong arm and ready courage saved his life in Japan five years ago.

He will not be swerved by personal influences from the course demanded by Russian interests.

The Emperor of Austria has no family ties, no personal feelings to sway him; and he is the natural ally of despotic Russia and Germany.

With these three men, lies the fate of Greece, Crete, and perhaps the "Eastern Question" to-day.

Will they meet the other three States half-way, and effect a peaceful compromise? Or will they carry out the threat of the German Emperor, and, in the words of her own brave Prime Minister:

_"Wipe Greece off the map of Europe"?_

Now this is the story of the Greek and Cretan troubles of which every one is talking in Europe and in America.

Some time it will be printed in grave-looking histories, and will perhaps seem very dry and dull to the young people who have to commit to memory the strange names of men and places, and perhaps, the dates of great battles fought!

It is your privilege to read this thrilling story from day to day, as it unfolds.

The European and Cuban despatches which your fathers and brothers eagerly read and talk about at breakfast every morning, are _history_. Not dried and pressed between the covers of a school-book, with all the life and spirit taken out of it; but history warm and palpitating with life; telling of things which happened yesterday, and are happening to-day, and which we all fear or else long for to-morrow.

Every American with the blood of a patriot in his veins is longing to hear to-morrow that _Cuba_ is free, and that _Crete_ is safely restored to the arms of Greece. This will happily close two of the most thrilling chapters in the history of modern times.

MARY PLATT PARMELE.

SUPPLEMENT TO:::

=THE=

=Great Round World=

=AND WHAT IS GOING ON IN IT=

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VOL. 1 MARCH 25, 1897. NO. 20

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JUNO.

Juno was the cat. We all knew perfectly well that there never had been such a cat as Juno. Not that she was so fine-looking, or so expensive. She would never have taken a prize at a cat show, unless it might have been the booby prize. She was the very plainest kind of a brindled cat, and she wandered into our house from the street during her early kittenhood and calmly established herself in mother's work-basket.

From that time on Juno had been the friend and playmate of the younger generation. She never seemed like an animal to any of us. Many a time I have heard Ned apologize for having unintentionally hurt Juno, with the exclamation:

"Oh, excuse me, Juno, I didn't mean to do that!"

After which Juno always purred softly, and showed that she had forgiven him.

But the one thing that specially distinguished Juno from all the other cats that I ever knew, was her big-hearted motherhood. If Juno had been a woman, how many desolate orphans she would have cared for! She would have given them summer outings, no doubt, and would have filled their stockings brimful at Christmas time.

Not being a woman, Juno did her best, nevertheless, to make the world a little easier for all the orphans she knew. What a heart must have beaten under that gray fur! Ned and I often talked of it, and were filled with regret that Juno could not understand our language so that we could talk to her and get her views on the subject.

There was the time when she adopted the chicken, for instance. We knew Juno so well that we felt perfectly certain how she looked at those things, and so when the old yellow hen declined to acknowledge the little black chicken as hers, and pecked its head whenever it went near her, we took the helpless and disowned orphan and put it in Juno's bed, between the two kittens.

"There, Juno," said Ned, by way of explanation to her look of astonishment, "there's a child that's been deserted by its unfeeling mother; I wish you'd look after it."

And Juno took the chicken and held it with one paw while she licked it all over, though I am not sure that she liked the taste of the soft down that covered the little stranger. She kept the chicken all that night and every night afterwards until it considered itself big enough to go alone.

How we used to laugh to see Juno walking about the yard with her foster-child chirping after her, or to see the chicken run to her and insist on being hovered!

As time passed the adopted child became independent and needed no further guardianship, yet the friendliest relations existed between the two. Even after the chicken was grown and had chickens of her own they seldom met in their promenades about the place that Juno did not pause to rub her head affectionately against the neck of the orphan that she had brought up.

* * * * *

Juno was about a year older, I think, when there was a death in her family. The one little kitten that she loved with all her mother heart died and left her desolate. It was a very sad occasion, I remember, but we had a great funeral. We dug the grave at the end of the garden. Johnny's express wagon was the hearse, and Johnny drew it, and was very serious indeed. We borrowed Mrs. Martin's baby carriage, and that was the mourning coach. Juno rode in it, with Ned and Gimps walking one on each side and holding her in. I pushed the coach, while a long procession of the neighbors' children came behind, crying with all their might. We sung a hymn at the grave, and did everything we could to soothe Juno's grief.

But Juno would not be reconciled. She drooped around and mewed so pitifully for several days that we could not endure it; so we went to a neighbor's cat that had more kittens than she needed, and borrowed one of them for Juno. Dear me, how proud she was of it, and how she took it in her arms and cuddled it up close to her! The whole family came out to look at her, and the Colonel said:

"And this is only a cat! What great tenderness there should be in the human heart when a poor little animal can be like this!"

And the next day Uncle Dick, who was a great favorite with all of us, rode up to the fence and shouted cheerily:

"Hello, boys! Here is a present for you. I killed a mother fox at the mouth of her hole, and here is one of her babies."

And he reached down into his pocket and drew out a baby fox about as large as an interrogation point, but the funniest and sharpest little thing you ever saw, though its eyes were not open yet.

With one accord we shouted:

"There's a baby for Juno!" and away we ran with it and laid it beside the new kitten.

Juno arose and looked the little stranger over with evident anxiety. She seemed to be troubled with some haunting suspicion that this was not an orthodox cat. The bushy red tail was a special subject of curiosity. She touched it up with her paw and looked at it with her head on one side.

For several dreadful minutes we were afraid that Juno was going to leave an orphan on our hands; but we did not know her, after all. In a few moments she reached the conclusion that the fox was probably a cat of some new and interesting kind, and she lay down again, purring softly, and took the little stranger to her heart.

Such a pair as those two did make! We named the fox Flash, and he was the pride and the delight of the family. In a few days after his adoption Juno came to look on him as quite the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and she showed a decided partiality for him. When she moved her family from the stable to mother's room, which she did systematically every morning, she always carried Flash in first and laid him on the rug with an air of pride impossible to describe.

"No, no, Juno," mother would say, "he is very pretty, but I can't have him here."

But Juno would run back after the kitten, and, having toiled upstairs with it, would lay it on the rug also and lie down beside it, as though she would say:

"I'd like to see you move me now!"

Within a month Flash could run everywhere, and he was the brightest, the sharpest, the merriest little fellow that ever kept a respectable cat in trouble with his escapades. That sharp nose of his was everywhere at once, it seemed to me, and those bright eyes were peering into every corner in search of mischief. He trotted about the house with a swaggering impudence, and went to bed in one of the Colonel's shoes if he liked, or played hide and seek in father's hat when he found it convenient.

As for the life he led poor Juno, we often wondered why she did not turn grayer than ever, having to deal with this graceless young reprobate. If he found her trying to sleep a little, he would bite her ears and pull at her tail, bracing himself back on all four of his absurd little feet, and sometimes tumbling over in his excitement; and he rolled over her and growled and worried her until she must have been almost on the verge of insomnia! Yet she never boxed his ears once, much as he deserved it.

As the kitten grew older and able to take part in the play, what romps the three used to have! How many times I have seen them rushing through the house in wild pursuit of one another, making as much noise as a drove of horses, mother said, with the fox in the lead, and the cats chasing him, and all the children running to look.

But their favorite playground was in the yard, where the fountain was, with its big circular basin. Around and around this basin they flew, and Flash always gained on his pursuers until he came up with them, vaulted over them, and was in front again, slipping out of sight like a spirit. I suppose most animals enjoy themselves, but I am sure I never saw animals have a better time than Juno and those two children of hers.

And the good times went on without diminution for many a day. Flash grew to be almost as large as his mother, but if he ever realized that he was not a cat we never knew it. He was as familiar in the house as though he owned it. When Ned and I were going to bed in the dark one night, and put out our hands to turn down the bedclothes, we touched something soft and furry, and we had both tumbled half-way down the stairs before we realized that Juno and Flash had gone to sleep in our bed.

And all the time how Juno loved the fox! She scarcely ever came near him without stopping to rub her head against him affectionately, or to lick his sharp little ears. She never did grow indifferent to this child of the forest that she had raised as her own. Perhaps it would have been better if she had not cared so much.

One day a strange dog slipped in at the gate while some one was passing out. The fox had never been hurt in his life, and he felt no fear of anything. He trotted up to the dog with his inquisitive nose in the air, and before any one could speak or move, the dog had seized him and was shaking the life out of him.

I never shall forget how we ran from the sight of it, when the dog was beaten away. But when we stole back after a while, Juno was with Flash, and was licking his face and trying her best to help him. Even the Colonel could not bear to see her, but went away and shut himself up.

As for poor Flash, his day was done, and the merry little heart was still. And a few hours later there was another grave at the foot of the garden.

We tried very hard after that to make Juno forget her loss, but she would not forget. She missed the child that she had loved so tenderly, and broke away from our caresses to go mewing from room to room, or to sit by the fountain, filling the air with disconsolate wails. She would not touch the food we offered her, though we saved her the most tempting morsels.

Of course this could not go on long. One night, a week after the death of Flash, Juno stretched herself out on the rug and died as quietly as though she had fallen to sleep; and we all cried as though our hearts would break.

"And this is only a cat," said the Colonel. "Think what human grief must be when a mere animal could grieve like this!"