Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 23 text:

maiden, and is the remains of the loveliest thing in Greek architecture. They say no one is in Athens more than a quarter of an hour before he hurries up to see it and we were no exception. On our way we stopped at the open-air stone theatre of Dionysus, cut out of the side of the hill. It is splendidly preserved, and plays can still be acted there. Soon we had climbed to the top, passing on our left the Erechtheum, a temple built in the Ionic style with slender delicately ornamented columns and an exquisite porch where every pillar is carved in the shape of a maiden. Facing it is the Parthenon built in simple Doric style with seventeen pillars on either side and eight at either end. Although it is over two thousand years old, it gives the impression of something living and lovely. It has the supple straightness that makes all other straight things look stiff. It is straight like a living thing, like a tree or the stem of a flower. And yet there is not a single straight line in the building. Look along the steps, and you will see a slight convex curve along what you had taken to be a straight line, while the columns have an almost imperceptible curve inward, and it has been calculated that if prolonged a mile into the air they would meet in a point. This temple, the home of a goddess, was treated as though it were sculpture, and with sure instinct every line, every pillar was adjusted, with the result that no two pillars are alike. These exquisite proportions are one cause of its beauty; another is its colour. Built of the purest Pentelic marble it is the colour of flesh — a rosy-gold mellowed by twenty- four centuries of exposure to Greek sunlight. And no words can give an adequate idea of what this light is like. It has a certain luminous quality which for revealing and intensifying beauty is unlike anything else in the world. I stayed up there on the Acropolis all the afternoon, watching the light deepen from golden to amethyst, and then to violet and seeing the Porch of the Maidens spring- ing into new loveliness in the changing light. Then the sun dipped over the bay of Salamis; a Greek guard blew a trumpet as a sign that all should depart. I took one last look around me, knowing that from this point I could see everything that was significant in Greek life. Here I was on the rock-like citadel with the city at my feet, and beyond, the plain, ringed round by mountains, open only to the sea. Across the bay lay Salamis where the Persians had been trapped twenty-four centuries ago and close by, the stirring sea always a challenge to the Greeks. I felt I was in the very heart of Greece, beside the loveliest thing she had produced, and surrounded by all the natural features which conditioned her history and existence. Thermopylae, high in the mountains, was the next place we visited. But the cele- brated Pass, once held by Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans, is no longer a pass but a plain. The river has brought down so much deposit that what was once a narrow- passage between the high cliffs and the river is now a wide plain. However the famous hot springs which give the place its name are still there, and we could not resist dipping our hands and feet in water where once the Spartans may have refreshed themselves for battle. Then we sailed northward to Thessaly, and coming to a picturesque village called Tsagarada, we got mules, and attended by our muleteers — mine was called Dmitri — we went swiftly enough up the shaggy side of Mount Pelion. I was thrilled at the thought of going up this mountain. It was here that Achilles had been brought up; it had [21]

Page 22 text:

On the other side of the hall is a struggling mass of Centaurs and Lapiths with Apollo, an almost perfect figure, directing or controlling the conflict. The severity and dignity of these figures are only equalled by their simplicity and perfect harmony. At the back of the Hall are two of the greatest treasures of Greek art, the Hermes of Praxitiles, and the Victory of Paeonius. We looked at these glorious statues forever young, forever fair , and then glanced down the valley and in a moment it was peopled — for me at least — with the splendid past, and I found myself wondering what men or gods are these! Then the sun sank, and turning away we drove back through the gathering dusk past the humble shacks, the now deserted fields, the little churches. The contrast between the past and present struck us sharply. But the sky was brilliant with stars, and looking up we felt the gods were still in Greece. Our next visit was to Athens. Rather to our surprise we found it quite a modern city with white houses, red roofs, handsome public buildings, broad boulevards lined with pepper-trees and fine open squares. We had forgotten that this Athens was built within the last seventy years, and that its chief function is to be a sort of frame for the Acropolis. This is a flat rock rising abruptly almost in the middle of the city, and crowned with a temple in honour of Athene. It is called the Parthenon which is the Greek word for [20]

Page 24 text:

furnished the wood from which Jason built the Argo, and it was in these very glades that the Centaurs used to live. I was trying to think of all these things, but I found it quite difficult to hold on to my saddle, and to duck my head when my mule plunged abruptly though what seemed an impenetrable thicket. But they are extraordinarily sure-footed creatures, and I think mine must have had some Centaur blood in him, so intelligently did he scale the precipitous cliff. Near the top we came to a cool beechy wood with a stream flowing through it. The air was delicious — like a June day in Eng- land. From here we had a glorious view across the Aegean Sea to Salonika in the distance and the craggy peaks of Mt. Athos. Here there is the famous Greek monastery, where nothing feminine, not even a hen! is ever allowed to set foot. When we arrived the following day at this holy spot, we knew of course we would not be allowed to land, but we hoped to have a swim round our boat while the men of our party went ashore to visit the monks. However we were soon informed that not only were women forbidden to land, but that no female form was allowed to sully the waters within a radius of three miles of the Holy Mountain! So we stayed on deck, gazing up at the cliffs, tower- ing in some places six thousand feet high, on the very brink of which were perched the cells of the monks. On the return of the men we heard a great deal about this Holy Republic of Mt. Athos, as it is called. It is situated on a peninsula about thirty miles long, and is separated from the mainland by the canal cut by Xerxes in 480 B.C. Its [22]