Letters to Ann Lear
The extracts from the five letters below to Lear's sister Ann describe his visit to Athos and its aftermath.
See Editor's Note to Lear and Mount Athos under 'About' tab for how these letters have been edited in a limited way.
21st August 1856 – Larissa
[.......] [Giorgio] is the best of all servants I have had abroad, because, besides his capability as interpreter & cook, & general travelling domestic, he is so good a house servant & has always been used to the duties of valet to Englishmen at Corfu; moreover he is never out of temper at all, though the life of a journey is always more or less a trying one. [........]
Setting off at nine we came to Salonica by 6 o’clock & thus far my Mount Athos trip is accomplished. I found Mr Blunt [1], our Consul, & oddly enough they all recollected me as being there in 1848. He gives me letters to the monks of Athos, & I dine with the Blunts today, & set out early tomorrow [........]
And now I will tell you in a few words, somewhat about Mt Athos, where I am going. It is called by the Greeks Τὸ Ἅγιον Ὄρος or ‘The Holy Mountain’ – and has always been, i.e. from the very early ages, an object of great veneration, & indeed a sort of Holy Land to their form of Christianity. I should tell you that near here is a peninsular of singular form ending in 3 prongs, & called by the ancients Chalcidice because first colonised from Chalcis in Greece. When Xerxes [2] invaded Greece he cut a canal through the narrow bit at A, to avoid sailing round Athos, which is the point marked B & is the only mountainous bit of the whole peninsular.[3] [………] Well the high rock of Athos was chosen after the renunciation of Paganism by Constantine as a place of retreat & devotion just as Syria & the Thebaid were. But Athos has never been in the way of war or disturbance, & so the immense monasteries founded by successive emperors have remained undisturbed, & you may conclude are very picturesque. There are 20 principal monasteries … up & down – besides 50 or 60 little ones! - I mean to go to all, & draw all, & most probably publish all. Every nation possessing the Greek form of faith has one, Russia a large one, Bulgaria, etc, etc. But the queer part of the story is that no female creature is allowed within the holy ground, let it be woman, no she cat, no hen, no she ass, or mare etc !!! The common people devoutly believe any woman would die if she crossed the boundary (though Lady Stratford and her daughter went to several of the convents & tell all sorts of absurd stories). It would matter little enough, only one can’t get fowls or eggs, so you will imagine me living on fish and fruit during my visit. I mean, as far as I can, to pay great attention to drawing this remarkable place, and may remain 2 or 3 or even more weeks before I come out of it [……..]
You may be sure I shall send or bring you some recollection of the Holy Mountain (by the bye I should have told you it ends in a peak of 6,350 feet clear & perpendicular out of the sea! & here the Greeks believe Christ was taken by Satan to see the Kingdom of the World) – most probably a worked cross as there will be no ladies dresses!
Saloniki, 23rd September 1856
My Dear Ann
I can only write you a few lines from here, but I think you will like a short letter better than none, to tell you that I arrived quite safely and wonderfully well yesterday. […….] I cannot now enter into descriptions of Mt Athos – the most wonderful and strange bit of the world I have seen yet, excepting Egypt. But I did not like it as I did the Nile - & never wish to see ‘The Holy Mountain’ any more. For all that I have got drawings of all the 20 monasteries, which may be very useful to me – though as landscape, the Swiss forest scenery which abounds there wants many qualities. One thing you would like at Mt Athos; there is not a single dog in all the territory! 60 or 80 miles long and no dog! But you would be amply repaid for this want by the overwhelming redundance (sic) of Tom Cats. One day I observed hearing a mouse : ‘ I wondered there were any left’; ‘Oh’ said the abbot, ‘we have so few cats; there are scarcely 100 left in our monastery; but I have sent over to Imbros and Lemnos for 20 score.’ Fancy 400 Tom Cats in a boat!! The convents are all so many villages in boxes - fortified and castellated [………] Giorgio, my man, was very ill at Athos with fever, & I thought he would die, or that I should have to stay there an indefinite time; but he recovered, thank God, & is better. As for me, I cannot tell when I have been so well; & the effects of my fall are quite gone.
Quarantine, Corfu, 8th October 1856
[........] the great cone of Athos, strictly speaking, rises up at once 6,500 feet from the sea: there are no harbours at its base, & the sea rages always on its vast rocky roots - so that in bad weather mariners go no nearer to Athos than they can help ! From [one end to the other] is all mountain – not a bit of flat land – covered with vast forests of oak and chesnut and ilex, & only the top of Athos is quite bare limestone, above pines and beech.
The principal monasteries are 20, and I give my list of names that you may trace my tour by the numbers [4]; but there are 4 or 500 little hermitages containing I, 2, 3, or 4 monks or more – all over the peninsular so that in all there are about 6 or 7,000 monks. At K is Kariéss [5], the capital city of the Holy Mountain, & there is the general seat of government; for each of the 20 great monasteries sends an annual deputy or member, who chooses one to be ruler (chosen from any convent) for the year; & these 21, making a Parliament, reside in 21 houses at Kariéss. There are bazaars also at Kariéss & one Turk lives there to collect the Sultan’s taxes [….....] 10 of the monasteries are governed by Abbots, chosen for life, despotic kings as it were. The other 10 are governed by 2 or 3 of the monks chosen annually. But I do not think I will endeavour to describe all minutely, since I have kept a most elaborate journal which I should like to publish with representations of the Mountain & monasteries some day [6]. And as you will read that I shall confine myself to generalities.
The first day’s journey from Salonica was uninteresting – all up hill – to Galatista where I slept in a decent Khan; 2nd day [29th August] Eriliggova [7] & near that village one crosses a ridge of hills, whence Athos is first discovered – a blue peak on a bluer sea – seen above the most wondrous forests of beech I ever beheld… nothing did I ever behold more lovely than these views, but it was so late, & so far to the village, that I only dared to make a little scrap sketch - & when I returned the weather was all cloudy, Athos invisible, & myself too glad to get on as fast as I could so as to avoid a coming storm – for you know how I hate being wet in those places.
On the 3rd day I reached Erissò, rather a large village on the borders of the sea, & from here you could see the peak of Athos more clearly – very like a great Alp. The women of Eriliggova and Erissò are quite a beautiful sight; they are all good looking and dress in striped stuffs made by themselves, of scarlet, crimson, purple & brown. On their heads they wear a scarlet fez, with an embroidered handkerchief round it, & bunches of lilies or other flowers on one side. They carry their babies at their backs, in crimson & orange striped sacks, & the cuffs of their sleeves are about 3 or 4 feet wide - turned back and lined with all kinds of colours -so they look like Queens on Court cards (their dresses being quilted & stiff & striped at odd angles – or like the pictures of Queen Jane Seymour [8].
From Erissò the next day’s journey was to bring me into the Holy Mountain - & a hard day’s work it was. Early in the morning I passed the cut across the Isthmus [2] & the high mounds & deep hollows even now tell the tale without any room for doubt.
Beyond one soon enters a narrow bit of paths between cliffs where wooden gates announced the commencement of the monkish territory; & thenceforth the path was most toilsome through the wildest & grandest forest scenery - from which every now & then you looked out on such screens & depths of green wood as would astonish those who talk of England as having more trees than other countries. Toward the end of the day I saw on the eastern shore, the first monastery (it was Vatopaidi, no.20) looking like a huge castle – not unlike Windsor Castle; with my glass I could see that it was like a village surrounded by high walls & great towers, but that was all. Towards dusk I reached Karièss which is really a beautiful place – at a distance. Here the great peak of the mountain is sublime & I consider the drawings I made hereabouts are some of the finest I possess. The village or town stands on a hill slope - surrounded by the 21 Parliament houses so to speak, besides a vast number of little villas, as it were, each with a dome chapel. All this I did not see then, as it was dark, but I had leisure enough later. I went first to the ‘head of the Holy Mountain’, i.e. the annually chosen Dictator, always sure to be a clever managing man. He made me a tolerably civil welcome for I had letters from consuls, bishops, etc. – and gave me some supper & a bed; first of all, they bring you on a tray some sort of sweets & a glass of spirit; (oh! dear! – what a lot of sweets & rhum have I taken in that Holy Mountain!), then coffee. This is the universal routine of all visits. I felt at once on entering Karièss that it was a place of fever-air, as later I had occasion to know.
Next morning [1 September] the Synod of 20 were assembled & I was put at the head of the room, while my letters were read; a circular was then given to me, to present to all the convents as I chose – & in the afternoon I began my tour by going to Koutloumoushi – No. 1 – close by the town. I hardly know how to describe these astonishing places to you; as I said, they resemble a village in a box; high walls surround all; nearly all have a great tower at one end. All have a court yard more or less large - & this court contains sometimes one, sometimes 2 or 3 churches, a clock tower, a large refectory, fountains, etc, etc. All have a kiosk outside the gates; also a fountain close by. Round 3 or 4 sides of the court are the cells – galleries above galleries of honeycomb arches; very frequently the abbot’s house occupies one side, or his, and the strangers rooms, look out on the best view. At Koutloumoushi I made my acquaintance with the finest reception room I had seen – very large, square; a matting over the centre; low sofas & divans round 3 sides, covered with beautiful (but dirty) carpets; & a fire place somewhere about. Here they spread a bed - but I only allowed it to remain there till they were gone out of the room, when my own capote & blankets & sheets were a better substitute.
The supper in this first instance was with the abbot - but generally alone; in 2 or 3 convents the fare was pretty good; in some very particularly beastly; in others all fish & cheese, etc. etc.; but as I made a practice of seizing on the dish of rice whenever I could get one, I generally dined off that alone. If you take up a little sand & some dirt, & mix it with your bread, you have an idea of the quality of that article throughout the whole set of monasteries; my teeth are on edge with the grittiness thereof even now. The abbot of Koutloumoushi was a jolly old man, with feet turned in, & walking with a crutch; he was one of the reasonable few I came to know – ‘”if you like to turn Caloger [9]", said he to me, “you may come here, but you must work; you must paint the church, & you must set up a school to teach Italian.” He asked me for some needles to sew, but I had none to spare.
Next day, after I had got 2 drawings, they lent me 2 mules & off I set to No.2 Pantokrátora. I always asked to see the churches - more to please my hosts than myself - for I can assure you 20 Greek churches – one just like another – are a task, & I listened meekly to the dreadful nonsense stories they told me of this or that picture. One floated from Jerusalem by sea, one cried when the Turks came, another bled at some apropos time; a 4th, a Pagan having poked his finger at him, held the finger so tight it was obliged to be cut off, & a 5th (No.17) has a picture which they declare to have been painted by the Almighty himself!!! As it is only 8 or 900 years old & very ill done, the blasphemy is almost lost in the absurdity of the matter. Oh those candles! & ostrich eggs! & gold & silver & paintings!! Oh Holy Mountain! what have I not suffered to get drawings of you!
Well Pantokrátora is on the sea; and so is No.3 Stavronikétes, & as they are built on rocks, & look up to the mighty peak of Athos, they make noble scenes, a lonely grandeur one hardly can understand till one has felt for days that none but these miserable solitaries occupy this strange land. Alas! – for 3 weeks was I oppressed with this atmosphere of falsehood & ignorance, & I would not go again to the Holy Mountain for thousands of pounds. I do not say hypocrisy - but I say falsehood, because I am positive that living alone, banishing all women whom God has made to be our equals & companions, passing life in everlasting repetition of formal prayers – in fact, turning God’s will & works upside down – I say this is falsehood, though it may be ignorance as well.
That evening we got to Iviron – No.4 - an immense monastery – in a bad position but wonderful as to extent & picturesque interior. 60 or 80 of the monks here are always laid up with fever, & you may judge of my vexation therefore when I tell you that Georgio, on the next morning, told me he had it; which, indeed, I should have found out without such information. Foolish fellow he had caught it at Karièss but had said nothing; consequently he grew rapidly worse, & by the time we got to No.5 Φιλοθέου [Philotheo] he was alarmingly ill. This monastery is very small, and there was nothing but bad bread & very salt cheese to be got there & moreover it was dirty over particularly. The medicine I gave took no effect because not applied early enough - & in spite of all I could do the fever increased & I dared not give quinine [10] as yet. I had therefore to think & to decide rapidly.
To return to Karièss would be madness - as it was there the fever was caught; all the adjacent convents were poor & impossible but 7 hours off was Lávra (No.7) the largest of all the monasteries, where I knew I should be well received, as I had very particular letters to Melchisedek the head of the convent, & I knew him also to be a good kind man. Moreover Lávra is next to No.8 – St Paul – & that is the Ionian convent, where the Corfiotes I knew would take as much care as monks could take, of their own countryman. I resolved therefore to go to No.6 (Karacallas) & get a mule on to Lávra, & to return with 3 mules the next day for Georgio; and so - off I set. But Karacalla was an exception to all the convents; they seem very poor and filthy, and more like dead men than any I have yet seen; & they would not take my letter to the abbot because he was asleep - nor did they give me even any rhum & jelly; so I set off again alone - determined to go to Lávra by myself at all risks, for the matter was serious.
The word "alone" in Mt. Athos has a far deeper sense than anywhere else. Oh dear ! how terribly lonely I felt that place – no inhabitants near – no dogs even – scarcely a bird – & if one should meet in the 6 hours walk with a Caloyer [9], I knew well he would only mutter prayers and say “how should I know?” to whatever question I asked him. However I went on & I suppose in all the world there is no finer coast scenery than below Athos, the peak at the end of the peninsular. You walk always in a thick grove, or on the top of high cliffs, but as you approach the mountain, it becomes hidden from you by projecting rocks above. At sunset I reached the huge monastery Lávra [7] which stands on a point of high land & is beautifully situated; built to contain 800 monks, it now has barely 200, but its courtyard full of orange & lemon trees, with the domes of the churches & clock towers, is a wonderfully interesting scene.
But here I was received by Melchisedek in the kindest manner - & I long to be able to send that good man some token of remembrance for the extreme trouble he gave himself on my account. Early next morning I was set agoing back again with my 3 mules & I got to Philotheo in the middle of the day - to find my poor servant very much worse. Judging therefore that it was better to divide the journey as much as possible, I put him on a mule and brought him to Karakalla (No.6) for that night & there remained. He became quite delirious & my alarm was great. There was however no choice so next morning I took him on the remaining 6 hours to Lávra. It was not very easy to keep him on the mule & you may suppose how glad I was to get him into a room & quiet. Here for 2 days he continued to get worse & I gave up all hope; I wrote to Lushington begging him to tell Spero & their mother, and I wrote to you, informing you of the state of things & how uncertain the length of my stay was, for even if Giorgio did not die, he might still remain ill a long time & I could not have left a good servant (or indeed any servant) alone in such a place. But as a last resource I bleed (sic) him and gave physic enough for 6; so that happily the fever turned, & I could give the quinine [10], & thus my anxiety was lessened, though he still continued unable to rise.
Meanwhile for 5 days I lounged about Lávra - drawing it all round; poking about the sea shore or into the hermitages among the half witted old filthy Caloyeri; or watched the Tom cats in the galleries; or talked Greek with Melchisedek & Anthemos - smoking 5 pipes a day, & having my morning & every meal with that good dirty man; for it must be said in truth that filth was at least as remarkable a characteristic of my friend’s menage as charity & kindness of his own character; I vow that the table cloth daily laid was not less than ¼ inch thick in substantial ancient dirt. U! O! A! what did I suffer! what did I not eat! Well - at last I came away, as soon as Giorgio could move, resolving to go to St. Paul’s as my next stage. One day by the bye I saw St. Nilo - a small monastery on the cliff at [...] the very end of the mountain; that was the queerest & saddest spot I ever beheld ! 2 old men lived there – neither more than half witted; they gave me a dry fish & water melon but only said these words all the time I was there – “are you a Christian ?” hundreds of times over & over.
The road from Lávra to No.8 St. Paul is most magnificent; I say road but I mean path - through beech and pine woods – very like the Swiss alpine scenes. And on coming to the west side you descend a frightful staircase to St. Anna [...] a little monastery I greatly regret not having drawn; but I knew there was short time to get to St. Paul’s & those cliffs are not places for after dusk. I should have told you that all these monasteries possess mules of the greatest beauty & the best quality I suppose to exist among mules; they are like lambs in temper – & cats in agility; the descent to St. Anna however would have been too much for my head on any mule – though Giorgio absolutely slept through it on a mule’s back next day ! They put all their 4 feet together & slibber [sic] down large bits of stone 10 or 20 feet long – stopping just in time to jump neatly on to the next. In particularly dangerous places they stop and scratch their noses with one hoof – standing on 3 - so that all things considered I usually prefer my own legs for progress.
St. Paul’s monastery is wholly different to those I had previously seen; piled up on vast rocks over a torrent, just below [...] the highest point of the mountain; I have 2 very accurate drawings of it but they appear, though exact, almost too wonderful. Here, the abbot Sophronios was also very kind though he persisted in coming to dine with me when I was so sleepy I could hardly keep my eyes open. Giorgio came the next day much better, & from that time, as I forced him to take quinine constantly he grew better, though he was very weak till we reached Salonica. (When I eventually got there I found my letters to you and to Lushington only just arrived, & just going to the post – so I was glad enough they had travelled so slowly.)
One day – before Giorgio could be moved over the mountain – I devoted to seeing Nos. 9, 10 & 11 – St. Dionysio, St. Greggorio, & Simòpetra. I walked to all these – got 2 drawings of each – paid a visit to the abbot, & had some "rhum and jelly" - & saw the churches of all 3 – returning by moonlight to St. Paul – where they believed my feat to be almost supernatural.
No. 9 St. Dionysio is stupendously picturesque; it hangs with its walls and towers on the edge of the sea high on a cliff below the vast Athos, & is a terror to look at. Some of the paths to it are as high as Beachy Head above the sea, & merely projecting bits of rock 2 or 3 feet wide – like in a cornice in one place there is a bit of space - & you step literally over the sea below. Here I observe the mules like particularly to scratch themselves, though the rider’s outside leg is hanging over the white foam far below. Booh! – I never trust beasts so far as this comes to.
No. 10 St .Gregorio was burned down some years ago – & is just rebuilt – spick & span new - blue slates & white-wash; it has a little port with boats - & has altogether a civilised look not acceptable to Art, or dovetailing with its brother monasteries outwardisms.
No. 11 – Simòpetra is by way of atonement – picturesque in the extreme; it looks at a distance like a giant cage; - quite white, but with galleries & interminable stairs of bright scarlet! – I am happy to say I had not to stay at this place – for unless I had had eau de Cologne or some scent, I must have succumbed to its odiferous atmosphere; bah! – I am sick at the thought of it. (All the convents I should tell you have very old prints, which they give to travellers; so, besides my own works, I have an antique set; as for my sketches they usually looked at them upside down or sideways, & said “beautiful wonderful !”)
I had now to see the remaining 9 convents & to do this, the only way [.....] is to return to Karièss – one of the most superb of rides – half way across the peninsular close below Athos. But unluckily thick clouds came on - & a pouring rain - & all I saw was dark forests of beech & pine through which I passed till near Karièss, when it cleared up & was again fine. Here I went to the Konak, or Parliament House of St. Paul, by leave of the abbot Sophronia, & well it was I did so; donkey that I was! – I forgot my own rules & maxims; for I had got wet in that rain, & yet seeing the finest view of Karièss as I entered the town, I did not go on to change my dress – but stopped to draw over a damp ravine. I had hardly got into the house when my dearly beloved friend Mr. Fever gripped me - & in the most decided manner !! The shaking fit only lasted an hour - & the hot fit attacked my head at once making me delirious directly – but not till I had taken a vast dose of physic. I have no fear of fever now as I can doctor it beautifully. Next morning, I swallowed quinine amaine [10] - & soon grew better; Giorgio bought a cock from an unwilling old monk who used the brute as a clock, & made me broth - & by common care & lots of quinine I grew well in 3 days – but you may suppose I took good caution never to move in Karièss again without warm clothes.
Meanwhile it poured with rain all those days - & I began to believe I should pass the rest of my life at Karièss – when once more a fine time arrived, & I, who hate giving up anything once commenced – set off again to see the rest of the convents – still 9 in number. I did not walk any more however – firstly because the roads were henceforward tolerably good – secondly because I could now sit on horse back, & was anxious to avoid fatigue so I made a short move to No. 12 Xeropotámo; a grand newly restored convent by the sea, with wide views towards the opposite promontory of Sithonia [12]; here was a facetious & clever abbot - & a clean one; the rooms were clean - & he had a musical snuff box – so one felt in a civilised place, the more that he could talk rationally on various subjects. Indeed I was often obliged to try all kinds of shuffles to avoid laughing at the strange questions these monks asked; did the Queen of England speak English or Greek ? What city in London was I born in ? Are there any cats in England ? etc. etc.
No. 13 Russikon – is the Russian monastery [also known as St Panteleímon] & its pea green domes & gold crosses make a gorgeous spectacle.
14 is Zénofonta; 15 Dokieraeion; all these are similar, & all look away from Athos, to the low flat grounds of Chalchidice [.....].
16 Kostamonites is the smallest of all the convents – hidden in a deep dell of wood. 17 Zográpho – a most splendid (& clean) pile of buildings in a deep valley – surrounded by high forest clad hills; its abbot was a fussy little man, & so frightfully polite I didn’t know what to do.
I then [.......] crossed the peninsular & went to Kiliandárion – No. 18, a vast & ancient convent – built for a thousand monks; but the air there is very bad. 19 Esphigménou is a nice little building – clean, & in a good air, so I resolved to sleep there on my way back to Salonica.
20 Vatopedi – is 2nd in size and dignity only to Lávra - & here let me stop – oh my! I am so sick of convents! – However – anxious as I was to get out of them, I could not but feel a great pleasure in having done all I had appointed to do - & in possessing some 50 most valuable drawings, for I believe no such collection of illustrations has as yet been known in England.
From Vatopedi I returned to the odious Karièss once more to get what luggage I had left there, & to buy some things for little remembrances of one of the most extraordinary places in the world, & one which I never intend to see again – even if I could do so easily. So I bought some of the carved wood crosses - & bone crosses - & spoons - & gourd water jars - & wooden things for marking bread - & beads & a monk’s dress – to be of use in painting - & above all 3 of what I thought to be salad mixers – very long handled spoons – with little sharp knobs of wood cut in relief on the (so believed) bowl of the spoon. Now what do you think these turned out to be ? Ma’am – they were flea scratchers ! - I thought I must have screamed when an old monk said these are not spoons – but are for this (δὲν εἶναι χουλιάρια, ἀλλά εἶναι νὰ κάμνετε ἔτσι—) [12] – whereon he began to put it to its proper use.
After this, I returned to Ἐσφυγμένου [Esphigmenou] & slept there; & the next day, passed out of the land of the monks of Mt. Athos the Holy Mountain – never again to return. Sleeping at Erissò, another day brought me (a cloudy day & wet at times) to Ἐρελίγοβα [Eriligova], the next to Galatesta, & the following to Salonica, & so ends my journey to the Holy Mountain, which I hope some day to show you through my many drawings of it.
[…………….] On the morning of the 26th – I was on deck long before daylight – to see the great Mt. Athos. Below which the steamer goes on her way to Cavalla. And here I made my last sketch of the Ἅγιον Ὄρος [Holy Mountain] , rising most magnificently from the calm gray sea. The sun rose as we were close to Lávra - & I could see every one of the eastern monasteries, so that for an hour, it was like reading the heading of a chapter, or the index to the last 3 weeks of my life.
15th December 1856 [Corfu]
[.............] I have now letters from all my old friends I think. I do not know what I should do without letters. Meanwhile I have been working away at setting up for show my Athos drawings & have penned out, coloured, & mounted 40 of them, by dint of hard work.
31st December 1856 [Corfu]
[.............] So ends 1856, which has been a very singular year for me. On looking back I find I have painted 11 small oil paintings, & 16 or more large water-colour drawings, besides many smaller ones; a great many oil, pencil, & water-colour studies & sketches; a perfect collection of the monasteries of Athos & partly of Troy as an addition to my topographical collection; besides time spent in travelling, & a large correspondence - 126 letters in all. It is plain therefore I have not been what is called idle, though I am by no means satisfied with my own progress. The paintings & drawings (& the Athos collection will be so perhaps) are a positive addition to the knowledge & pleasure of many families for, possibly, a very long period of time; so that is one consolation - & I can assure you I need no little at times. It isn't very often as I take to moralising; only at the end of the year one may be pardoned doing so.
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Notes
[1] Charles Blunt, British consul at Salonica, had helped Lear escape a cholera outbreak in 1848. He later became consul at Smyrna; in his Cretan Journal Lear notes Blunt’s death in Smyrna in 1864.
[2] Xerxes the Great, was the fifth king of kings of the Achaemenid dynasty of Persia. He ruled from 486 BC until his assassination in 465 BC. He is also notable in Western history for his failed invasion of Greece in 480 BC. His forces temporarily overran mainland Greece north of the Isthmus of Corinth until the losses at Salamis and Plataea a year later reversed these gains and ended the second invasion decisively.
[3] Lear is quoting here from a small scale map he drew on his letter to Ann. This has not been reproduced on this site, but the Map (see tab) on the site shows the narrow area at its top left as the site of Xerxes' canal.
[4] Monasteries :
Koutloûmoushi 1 Karakállas 6 Simópetra 11 Kostamonites 16
Pantokrâtora 2 Lávra 7 Zeropotámo 12 Zográfou 17
Stavronikêtes 3 St Paul 8 Rûssikon 13 Khiliadárion 18
Iviron 4 St Dionýsios 9 Xenófonta 14 Esfigménou 19
Philothéo 5 St Gregório 10 Dokeirâeion 15 Vatopaidi 20
[5] Lear has drawn a map of the peninsula in the letter showing Karyés and the locations of the monasteries by number. This is small scale and not reproduced on this site but the Map tab gives a map which can be enlarged showing the monasteries and the dates on which Lear visited them (together with a drawing of each and brief description of his journey).
[6] This journal has not been found, and Lear's extensive diaries, held at Houghton Library, Harvard University, only commence in 1858.
[7] Eriliggova will be Liarigova, near Arnaia
[8] Lear includes a sketch of two women in their costumes in his letter. The copy of this in the transcribed letter is shown below these notes.
[9] The Caloyers (Greek: καλόγερος, kalos ghérôn, "good old men"), also spelled Calogers or Calogeri, were Greek monks who followed the rule of Saint Basil of Caesarea Only male Caloyers inhabited Mount Athos, but men and women Caloyers spread throughout many of the churches of the East. They lived either in monasteries, as at Mount Athos and Meteora, or isolated in hermitages, devoted to agriculture and prayer.
[10] Quinine was long used in its unextracted form in South America, and then by Europeans since the early 17th century as an antidote for malaria. In 1820 French researchers extracted quinine from the bark of Cinchona trees, and subsequently named it. Large scale use of quinine as a malaria prophylaxis commenced around 1850, thus only shortly before Lear's journey. Lear refers once to 'quinine amaine' - quinine is a basic amine which is a compound containing nitrogen.
[11] Sithonia is the central peninsula of the three-pronged Chalkidiki which is itself a larger peninsula now within Greece. The Athos peninsula is the easternmost of the three and Kassandra peninsula lies to the west of Sithonia.
[12] This word for spoon isn’t in modern Greek dictionaries; it derives from ancient Greek and was re-invented in katharevousa as κοχλιάριον, with a shorter form χουλιάρι. Lear (or the transcriber) actually writes χουλάρια but it is here corrected by putting the iota in. The monk probably used the word to him.
[.......] [Giorgio] is the best of all servants I have had abroad, because, besides his capability as interpreter & cook, & general travelling domestic, he is so good a house servant & has always been used to the duties of valet to Englishmen at Corfu; moreover he is never out of temper at all, though the life of a journey is always more or less a trying one. [........]
Setting off at nine we came to Salonica by 6 o’clock & thus far my Mount Athos trip is accomplished. I found Mr Blunt [1], our Consul, & oddly enough they all recollected me as being there in 1848. He gives me letters to the monks of Athos, & I dine with the Blunts today, & set out early tomorrow [........]
And now I will tell you in a few words, somewhat about Mt Athos, where I am going. It is called by the Greeks Τὸ Ἅγιον Ὄρος or ‘The Holy Mountain’ – and has always been, i.e. from the very early ages, an object of great veneration, & indeed a sort of Holy Land to their form of Christianity. I should tell you that near here is a peninsular of singular form ending in 3 prongs, & called by the ancients Chalcidice because first colonised from Chalcis in Greece. When Xerxes [2] invaded Greece he cut a canal through the narrow bit at A, to avoid sailing round Athos, which is the point marked B & is the only mountainous bit of the whole peninsular.[3] [………] Well the high rock of Athos was chosen after the renunciation of Paganism by Constantine as a place of retreat & devotion just as Syria & the Thebaid were. But Athos has never been in the way of war or disturbance, & so the immense monasteries founded by successive emperors have remained undisturbed, & you may conclude are very picturesque. There are 20 principal monasteries … up & down – besides 50 or 60 little ones! - I mean to go to all, & draw all, & most probably publish all. Every nation possessing the Greek form of faith has one, Russia a large one, Bulgaria, etc, etc. But the queer part of the story is that no female creature is allowed within the holy ground, let it be woman, no she cat, no hen, no she ass, or mare etc !!! The common people devoutly believe any woman would die if she crossed the boundary (though Lady Stratford and her daughter went to several of the convents & tell all sorts of absurd stories). It would matter little enough, only one can’t get fowls or eggs, so you will imagine me living on fish and fruit during my visit. I mean, as far as I can, to pay great attention to drawing this remarkable place, and may remain 2 or 3 or even more weeks before I come out of it [……..]
You may be sure I shall send or bring you some recollection of the Holy Mountain (by the bye I should have told you it ends in a peak of 6,350 feet clear & perpendicular out of the sea! & here the Greeks believe Christ was taken by Satan to see the Kingdom of the World) – most probably a worked cross as there will be no ladies dresses!
Saloniki, 23rd September 1856
My Dear Ann
I can only write you a few lines from here, but I think you will like a short letter better than none, to tell you that I arrived quite safely and wonderfully well yesterday. […….] I cannot now enter into descriptions of Mt Athos – the most wonderful and strange bit of the world I have seen yet, excepting Egypt. But I did not like it as I did the Nile - & never wish to see ‘The Holy Mountain’ any more. For all that I have got drawings of all the 20 monasteries, which may be very useful to me – though as landscape, the Swiss forest scenery which abounds there wants many qualities. One thing you would like at Mt Athos; there is not a single dog in all the territory! 60 or 80 miles long and no dog! But you would be amply repaid for this want by the overwhelming redundance (sic) of Tom Cats. One day I observed hearing a mouse : ‘ I wondered there were any left’; ‘Oh’ said the abbot, ‘we have so few cats; there are scarcely 100 left in our monastery; but I have sent over to Imbros and Lemnos for 20 score.’ Fancy 400 Tom Cats in a boat!! The convents are all so many villages in boxes - fortified and castellated [………] Giorgio, my man, was very ill at Athos with fever, & I thought he would die, or that I should have to stay there an indefinite time; but he recovered, thank God, & is better. As for me, I cannot tell when I have been so well; & the effects of my fall are quite gone.
Quarantine, Corfu, 8th October 1856
[........] the great cone of Athos, strictly speaking, rises up at once 6,500 feet from the sea: there are no harbours at its base, & the sea rages always on its vast rocky roots - so that in bad weather mariners go no nearer to Athos than they can help ! From [one end to the other] is all mountain – not a bit of flat land – covered with vast forests of oak and chesnut and ilex, & only the top of Athos is quite bare limestone, above pines and beech.
The principal monasteries are 20, and I give my list of names that you may trace my tour by the numbers [4]; but there are 4 or 500 little hermitages containing I, 2, 3, or 4 monks or more – all over the peninsular so that in all there are about 6 or 7,000 monks. At K is Kariéss [5], the capital city of the Holy Mountain, & there is the general seat of government; for each of the 20 great monasteries sends an annual deputy or member, who chooses one to be ruler (chosen from any convent) for the year; & these 21, making a Parliament, reside in 21 houses at Kariéss. There are bazaars also at Kariéss & one Turk lives there to collect the Sultan’s taxes [….....] 10 of the monasteries are governed by Abbots, chosen for life, despotic kings as it were. The other 10 are governed by 2 or 3 of the monks chosen annually. But I do not think I will endeavour to describe all minutely, since I have kept a most elaborate journal which I should like to publish with representations of the Mountain & monasteries some day [6]. And as you will read that I shall confine myself to generalities.
The first day’s journey from Salonica was uninteresting – all up hill – to Galatista where I slept in a decent Khan; 2nd day [29th August] Eriliggova [7] & near that village one crosses a ridge of hills, whence Athos is first discovered – a blue peak on a bluer sea – seen above the most wondrous forests of beech I ever beheld… nothing did I ever behold more lovely than these views, but it was so late, & so far to the village, that I only dared to make a little scrap sketch - & when I returned the weather was all cloudy, Athos invisible, & myself too glad to get on as fast as I could so as to avoid a coming storm – for you know how I hate being wet in those places.
On the 3rd day I reached Erissò, rather a large village on the borders of the sea, & from here you could see the peak of Athos more clearly – very like a great Alp. The women of Eriliggova and Erissò are quite a beautiful sight; they are all good looking and dress in striped stuffs made by themselves, of scarlet, crimson, purple & brown. On their heads they wear a scarlet fez, with an embroidered handkerchief round it, & bunches of lilies or other flowers on one side. They carry their babies at their backs, in crimson & orange striped sacks, & the cuffs of their sleeves are about 3 or 4 feet wide - turned back and lined with all kinds of colours -so they look like Queens on Court cards (their dresses being quilted & stiff & striped at odd angles – or like the pictures of Queen Jane Seymour [8].
From Erissò the next day’s journey was to bring me into the Holy Mountain - & a hard day’s work it was. Early in the morning I passed the cut across the Isthmus [2] & the high mounds & deep hollows even now tell the tale without any room for doubt.
Beyond one soon enters a narrow bit of paths between cliffs where wooden gates announced the commencement of the monkish territory; & thenceforth the path was most toilsome through the wildest & grandest forest scenery - from which every now & then you looked out on such screens & depths of green wood as would astonish those who talk of England as having more trees than other countries. Toward the end of the day I saw on the eastern shore, the first monastery (it was Vatopaidi, no.20) looking like a huge castle – not unlike Windsor Castle; with my glass I could see that it was like a village surrounded by high walls & great towers, but that was all. Towards dusk I reached Karièss which is really a beautiful place – at a distance. Here the great peak of the mountain is sublime & I consider the drawings I made hereabouts are some of the finest I possess. The village or town stands on a hill slope - surrounded by the 21 Parliament houses so to speak, besides a vast number of little villas, as it were, each with a dome chapel. All this I did not see then, as it was dark, but I had leisure enough later. I went first to the ‘head of the Holy Mountain’, i.e. the annually chosen Dictator, always sure to be a clever managing man. He made me a tolerably civil welcome for I had letters from consuls, bishops, etc. – and gave me some supper & a bed; first of all, they bring you on a tray some sort of sweets & a glass of spirit; (oh! dear! – what a lot of sweets & rhum have I taken in that Holy Mountain!), then coffee. This is the universal routine of all visits. I felt at once on entering Karièss that it was a place of fever-air, as later I had occasion to know.
Next morning [1 September] the Synod of 20 were assembled & I was put at the head of the room, while my letters were read; a circular was then given to me, to present to all the convents as I chose – & in the afternoon I began my tour by going to Koutloumoushi – No. 1 – close by the town. I hardly know how to describe these astonishing places to you; as I said, they resemble a village in a box; high walls surround all; nearly all have a great tower at one end. All have a court yard more or less large - & this court contains sometimes one, sometimes 2 or 3 churches, a clock tower, a large refectory, fountains, etc, etc. All have a kiosk outside the gates; also a fountain close by. Round 3 or 4 sides of the court are the cells – galleries above galleries of honeycomb arches; very frequently the abbot’s house occupies one side, or his, and the strangers rooms, look out on the best view. At Koutloumoushi I made my acquaintance with the finest reception room I had seen – very large, square; a matting over the centre; low sofas & divans round 3 sides, covered with beautiful (but dirty) carpets; & a fire place somewhere about. Here they spread a bed - but I only allowed it to remain there till they were gone out of the room, when my own capote & blankets & sheets were a better substitute.
The supper in this first instance was with the abbot - but generally alone; in 2 or 3 convents the fare was pretty good; in some very particularly beastly; in others all fish & cheese, etc. etc.; but as I made a practice of seizing on the dish of rice whenever I could get one, I generally dined off that alone. If you take up a little sand & some dirt, & mix it with your bread, you have an idea of the quality of that article throughout the whole set of monasteries; my teeth are on edge with the grittiness thereof even now. The abbot of Koutloumoushi was a jolly old man, with feet turned in, & walking with a crutch; he was one of the reasonable few I came to know – ‘”if you like to turn Caloger [9]", said he to me, “you may come here, but you must work; you must paint the church, & you must set up a school to teach Italian.” He asked me for some needles to sew, but I had none to spare.
Next day, after I had got 2 drawings, they lent me 2 mules & off I set to No.2 Pantokrátora. I always asked to see the churches - more to please my hosts than myself - for I can assure you 20 Greek churches – one just like another – are a task, & I listened meekly to the dreadful nonsense stories they told me of this or that picture. One floated from Jerusalem by sea, one cried when the Turks came, another bled at some apropos time; a 4th, a Pagan having poked his finger at him, held the finger so tight it was obliged to be cut off, & a 5th (No.17) has a picture which they declare to have been painted by the Almighty himself!!! As it is only 8 or 900 years old & very ill done, the blasphemy is almost lost in the absurdity of the matter. Oh those candles! & ostrich eggs! & gold & silver & paintings!! Oh Holy Mountain! what have I not suffered to get drawings of you!
Well Pantokrátora is on the sea; and so is No.3 Stavronikétes, & as they are built on rocks, & look up to the mighty peak of Athos, they make noble scenes, a lonely grandeur one hardly can understand till one has felt for days that none but these miserable solitaries occupy this strange land. Alas! – for 3 weeks was I oppressed with this atmosphere of falsehood & ignorance, & I would not go again to the Holy Mountain for thousands of pounds. I do not say hypocrisy - but I say falsehood, because I am positive that living alone, banishing all women whom God has made to be our equals & companions, passing life in everlasting repetition of formal prayers – in fact, turning God’s will & works upside down – I say this is falsehood, though it may be ignorance as well.
That evening we got to Iviron – No.4 - an immense monastery – in a bad position but wonderful as to extent & picturesque interior. 60 or 80 of the monks here are always laid up with fever, & you may judge of my vexation therefore when I tell you that Georgio, on the next morning, told me he had it; which, indeed, I should have found out without such information. Foolish fellow he had caught it at Karièss but had said nothing; consequently he grew rapidly worse, & by the time we got to No.5 Φιλοθέου [Philotheo] he was alarmingly ill. This monastery is very small, and there was nothing but bad bread & very salt cheese to be got there & moreover it was dirty over particularly. The medicine I gave took no effect because not applied early enough - & in spite of all I could do the fever increased & I dared not give quinine [10] as yet. I had therefore to think & to decide rapidly.
To return to Karièss would be madness - as it was there the fever was caught; all the adjacent convents were poor & impossible but 7 hours off was Lávra (No.7) the largest of all the monasteries, where I knew I should be well received, as I had very particular letters to Melchisedek the head of the convent, & I knew him also to be a good kind man. Moreover Lávra is next to No.8 – St Paul – & that is the Ionian convent, where the Corfiotes I knew would take as much care as monks could take, of their own countryman. I resolved therefore to go to No.6 (Karacallas) & get a mule on to Lávra, & to return with 3 mules the next day for Georgio; and so - off I set. But Karacalla was an exception to all the convents; they seem very poor and filthy, and more like dead men than any I have yet seen; & they would not take my letter to the abbot because he was asleep - nor did they give me even any rhum & jelly; so I set off again alone - determined to go to Lávra by myself at all risks, for the matter was serious.
The word "alone" in Mt. Athos has a far deeper sense than anywhere else. Oh dear ! how terribly lonely I felt that place – no inhabitants near – no dogs even – scarcely a bird – & if one should meet in the 6 hours walk with a Caloyer [9], I knew well he would only mutter prayers and say “how should I know?” to whatever question I asked him. However I went on & I suppose in all the world there is no finer coast scenery than below Athos, the peak at the end of the peninsular. You walk always in a thick grove, or on the top of high cliffs, but as you approach the mountain, it becomes hidden from you by projecting rocks above. At sunset I reached the huge monastery Lávra [7] which stands on a point of high land & is beautifully situated; built to contain 800 monks, it now has barely 200, but its courtyard full of orange & lemon trees, with the domes of the churches & clock towers, is a wonderfully interesting scene.
But here I was received by Melchisedek in the kindest manner - & I long to be able to send that good man some token of remembrance for the extreme trouble he gave himself on my account. Early next morning I was set agoing back again with my 3 mules & I got to Philotheo in the middle of the day - to find my poor servant very much worse. Judging therefore that it was better to divide the journey as much as possible, I put him on a mule and brought him to Karakalla (No.6) for that night & there remained. He became quite delirious & my alarm was great. There was however no choice so next morning I took him on the remaining 6 hours to Lávra. It was not very easy to keep him on the mule & you may suppose how glad I was to get him into a room & quiet. Here for 2 days he continued to get worse & I gave up all hope; I wrote to Lushington begging him to tell Spero & their mother, and I wrote to you, informing you of the state of things & how uncertain the length of my stay was, for even if Giorgio did not die, he might still remain ill a long time & I could not have left a good servant (or indeed any servant) alone in such a place. But as a last resource I bleed (sic) him and gave physic enough for 6; so that happily the fever turned, & I could give the quinine [10], & thus my anxiety was lessened, though he still continued unable to rise.
Meanwhile for 5 days I lounged about Lávra - drawing it all round; poking about the sea shore or into the hermitages among the half witted old filthy Caloyeri; or watched the Tom cats in the galleries; or talked Greek with Melchisedek & Anthemos - smoking 5 pipes a day, & having my morning & every meal with that good dirty man; for it must be said in truth that filth was at least as remarkable a characteristic of my friend’s menage as charity & kindness of his own character; I vow that the table cloth daily laid was not less than ¼ inch thick in substantial ancient dirt. U! O! A! what did I suffer! what did I not eat! Well - at last I came away, as soon as Giorgio could move, resolving to go to St. Paul’s as my next stage. One day by the bye I saw St. Nilo - a small monastery on the cliff at [...] the very end of the mountain; that was the queerest & saddest spot I ever beheld ! 2 old men lived there – neither more than half witted; they gave me a dry fish & water melon but only said these words all the time I was there – “are you a Christian ?” hundreds of times over & over.
The road from Lávra to No.8 St. Paul is most magnificent; I say road but I mean path - through beech and pine woods – very like the Swiss alpine scenes. And on coming to the west side you descend a frightful staircase to St. Anna [...] a little monastery I greatly regret not having drawn; but I knew there was short time to get to St. Paul’s & those cliffs are not places for after dusk. I should have told you that all these monasteries possess mules of the greatest beauty & the best quality I suppose to exist among mules; they are like lambs in temper – & cats in agility; the descent to St. Anna however would have been too much for my head on any mule – though Giorgio absolutely slept through it on a mule’s back next day ! They put all their 4 feet together & slibber [sic] down large bits of stone 10 or 20 feet long – stopping just in time to jump neatly on to the next. In particularly dangerous places they stop and scratch their noses with one hoof – standing on 3 - so that all things considered I usually prefer my own legs for progress.
St. Paul’s monastery is wholly different to those I had previously seen; piled up on vast rocks over a torrent, just below [...] the highest point of the mountain; I have 2 very accurate drawings of it but they appear, though exact, almost too wonderful. Here, the abbot Sophronios was also very kind though he persisted in coming to dine with me when I was so sleepy I could hardly keep my eyes open. Giorgio came the next day much better, & from that time, as I forced him to take quinine constantly he grew better, though he was very weak till we reached Salonica. (When I eventually got there I found my letters to you and to Lushington only just arrived, & just going to the post – so I was glad enough they had travelled so slowly.)
One day – before Giorgio could be moved over the mountain – I devoted to seeing Nos. 9, 10 & 11 – St. Dionysio, St. Greggorio, & Simòpetra. I walked to all these – got 2 drawings of each – paid a visit to the abbot, & had some "rhum and jelly" - & saw the churches of all 3 – returning by moonlight to St. Paul – where they believed my feat to be almost supernatural.
No. 9 St. Dionysio is stupendously picturesque; it hangs with its walls and towers on the edge of the sea high on a cliff below the vast Athos, & is a terror to look at. Some of the paths to it are as high as Beachy Head above the sea, & merely projecting bits of rock 2 or 3 feet wide – like in a cornice in one place there is a bit of space - & you step literally over the sea below. Here I observe the mules like particularly to scratch themselves, though the rider’s outside leg is hanging over the white foam far below. Booh! – I never trust beasts so far as this comes to.
No. 10 St .Gregorio was burned down some years ago – & is just rebuilt – spick & span new - blue slates & white-wash; it has a little port with boats - & has altogether a civilised look not acceptable to Art, or dovetailing with its brother monasteries outwardisms.
No. 11 – Simòpetra is by way of atonement – picturesque in the extreme; it looks at a distance like a giant cage; - quite white, but with galleries & interminable stairs of bright scarlet! – I am happy to say I had not to stay at this place – for unless I had had eau de Cologne or some scent, I must have succumbed to its odiferous atmosphere; bah! – I am sick at the thought of it. (All the convents I should tell you have very old prints, which they give to travellers; so, besides my own works, I have an antique set; as for my sketches they usually looked at them upside down or sideways, & said “beautiful wonderful !”)
I had now to see the remaining 9 convents & to do this, the only way [.....] is to return to Karièss – one of the most superb of rides – half way across the peninsular close below Athos. But unluckily thick clouds came on - & a pouring rain - & all I saw was dark forests of beech & pine through which I passed till near Karièss, when it cleared up & was again fine. Here I went to the Konak, or Parliament House of St. Paul, by leave of the abbot Sophronia, & well it was I did so; donkey that I was! – I forgot my own rules & maxims; for I had got wet in that rain, & yet seeing the finest view of Karièss as I entered the town, I did not go on to change my dress – but stopped to draw over a damp ravine. I had hardly got into the house when my dearly beloved friend Mr. Fever gripped me - & in the most decided manner !! The shaking fit only lasted an hour - & the hot fit attacked my head at once making me delirious directly – but not till I had taken a vast dose of physic. I have no fear of fever now as I can doctor it beautifully. Next morning, I swallowed quinine amaine [10] - & soon grew better; Giorgio bought a cock from an unwilling old monk who used the brute as a clock, & made me broth - & by common care & lots of quinine I grew well in 3 days – but you may suppose I took good caution never to move in Karièss again without warm clothes.
Meanwhile it poured with rain all those days - & I began to believe I should pass the rest of my life at Karièss – when once more a fine time arrived, & I, who hate giving up anything once commenced – set off again to see the rest of the convents – still 9 in number. I did not walk any more however – firstly because the roads were henceforward tolerably good – secondly because I could now sit on horse back, & was anxious to avoid fatigue so I made a short move to No. 12 Xeropotámo; a grand newly restored convent by the sea, with wide views towards the opposite promontory of Sithonia [12]; here was a facetious & clever abbot - & a clean one; the rooms were clean - & he had a musical snuff box – so one felt in a civilised place, the more that he could talk rationally on various subjects. Indeed I was often obliged to try all kinds of shuffles to avoid laughing at the strange questions these monks asked; did the Queen of England speak English or Greek ? What city in London was I born in ? Are there any cats in England ? etc. etc.
No. 13 Russikon – is the Russian monastery [also known as St Panteleímon] & its pea green domes & gold crosses make a gorgeous spectacle.
14 is Zénofonta; 15 Dokieraeion; all these are similar, & all look away from Athos, to the low flat grounds of Chalchidice [.....].
16 Kostamonites is the smallest of all the convents – hidden in a deep dell of wood. 17 Zográpho – a most splendid (& clean) pile of buildings in a deep valley – surrounded by high forest clad hills; its abbot was a fussy little man, & so frightfully polite I didn’t know what to do.
I then [.......] crossed the peninsular & went to Kiliandárion – No. 18, a vast & ancient convent – built for a thousand monks; but the air there is very bad. 19 Esphigménou is a nice little building – clean, & in a good air, so I resolved to sleep there on my way back to Salonica.
20 Vatopedi – is 2nd in size and dignity only to Lávra - & here let me stop – oh my! I am so sick of convents! – However – anxious as I was to get out of them, I could not but feel a great pleasure in having done all I had appointed to do - & in possessing some 50 most valuable drawings, for I believe no such collection of illustrations has as yet been known in England.
From Vatopedi I returned to the odious Karièss once more to get what luggage I had left there, & to buy some things for little remembrances of one of the most extraordinary places in the world, & one which I never intend to see again – even if I could do so easily. So I bought some of the carved wood crosses - & bone crosses - & spoons - & gourd water jars - & wooden things for marking bread - & beads & a monk’s dress – to be of use in painting - & above all 3 of what I thought to be salad mixers – very long handled spoons – with little sharp knobs of wood cut in relief on the (so believed) bowl of the spoon. Now what do you think these turned out to be ? Ma’am – they were flea scratchers ! - I thought I must have screamed when an old monk said these are not spoons – but are for this (δὲν εἶναι χουλιάρια, ἀλλά εἶναι νὰ κάμνετε ἔτσι—) [12] – whereon he began to put it to its proper use.
After this, I returned to Ἐσφυγμένου [Esphigmenou] & slept there; & the next day, passed out of the land of the monks of Mt. Athos the Holy Mountain – never again to return. Sleeping at Erissò, another day brought me (a cloudy day & wet at times) to Ἐρελίγοβα [Eriligova], the next to Galatesta, & the following to Salonica, & so ends my journey to the Holy Mountain, which I hope some day to show you through my many drawings of it.
[…………….] On the morning of the 26th – I was on deck long before daylight – to see the great Mt. Athos. Below which the steamer goes on her way to Cavalla. And here I made my last sketch of the Ἅγιον Ὄρος [Holy Mountain] , rising most magnificently from the calm gray sea. The sun rose as we were close to Lávra - & I could see every one of the eastern monasteries, so that for an hour, it was like reading the heading of a chapter, or the index to the last 3 weeks of my life.
15th December 1856 [Corfu]
[.............] I have now letters from all my old friends I think. I do not know what I should do without letters. Meanwhile I have been working away at setting up for show my Athos drawings & have penned out, coloured, & mounted 40 of them, by dint of hard work.
31st December 1856 [Corfu]
[.............] So ends 1856, which has been a very singular year for me. On looking back I find I have painted 11 small oil paintings, & 16 or more large water-colour drawings, besides many smaller ones; a great many oil, pencil, & water-colour studies & sketches; a perfect collection of the monasteries of Athos & partly of Troy as an addition to my topographical collection; besides time spent in travelling, & a large correspondence - 126 letters in all. It is plain therefore I have not been what is called idle, though I am by no means satisfied with my own progress. The paintings & drawings (& the Athos collection will be so perhaps) are a positive addition to the knowledge & pleasure of many families for, possibly, a very long period of time; so that is one consolation - & I can assure you I need no little at times. It isn't very often as I take to moralising; only at the end of the year one may be pardoned doing so.
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Notes
[1] Charles Blunt, British consul at Salonica, had helped Lear escape a cholera outbreak in 1848. He later became consul at Smyrna; in his Cretan Journal Lear notes Blunt’s death in Smyrna in 1864.
[2] Xerxes the Great, was the fifth king of kings of the Achaemenid dynasty of Persia. He ruled from 486 BC until his assassination in 465 BC. He is also notable in Western history for his failed invasion of Greece in 480 BC. His forces temporarily overran mainland Greece north of the Isthmus of Corinth until the losses at Salamis and Plataea a year later reversed these gains and ended the second invasion decisively.
[3] Lear is quoting here from a small scale map he drew on his letter to Ann. This has not been reproduced on this site, but the Map (see tab) on the site shows the narrow area at its top left as the site of Xerxes' canal.
[4] Monasteries :
Koutloûmoushi 1 Karakállas 6 Simópetra 11 Kostamonites 16
Pantokrâtora 2 Lávra 7 Zeropotámo 12 Zográfou 17
Stavronikêtes 3 St Paul 8 Rûssikon 13 Khiliadárion 18
Iviron 4 St Dionýsios 9 Xenófonta 14 Esfigménou 19
Philothéo 5 St Gregório 10 Dokeirâeion 15 Vatopaidi 20
[5] Lear has drawn a map of the peninsula in the letter showing Karyés and the locations of the monasteries by number. This is small scale and not reproduced on this site but the Map tab gives a map which can be enlarged showing the monasteries and the dates on which Lear visited them (together with a drawing of each and brief description of his journey).
[6] This journal has not been found, and Lear's extensive diaries, held at Houghton Library, Harvard University, only commence in 1858.
[7] Eriliggova will be Liarigova, near Arnaia
[8] Lear includes a sketch of two women in their costumes in his letter. The copy of this in the transcribed letter is shown below these notes.
[9] The Caloyers (Greek: καλόγερος, kalos ghérôn, "good old men"), also spelled Calogers or Calogeri, were Greek monks who followed the rule of Saint Basil of Caesarea Only male Caloyers inhabited Mount Athos, but men and women Caloyers spread throughout many of the churches of the East. They lived either in monasteries, as at Mount Athos and Meteora, or isolated in hermitages, devoted to agriculture and prayer.
[10] Quinine was long used in its unextracted form in South America, and then by Europeans since the early 17th century as an antidote for malaria. In 1820 French researchers extracted quinine from the bark of Cinchona trees, and subsequently named it. Large scale use of quinine as a malaria prophylaxis commenced around 1850, thus only shortly before Lear's journey. Lear refers once to 'quinine amaine' - quinine is a basic amine which is a compound containing nitrogen.
[11] Sithonia is the central peninsula of the three-pronged Chalkidiki which is itself a larger peninsula now within Greece. The Athos peninsula is the easternmost of the three and Kassandra peninsula lies to the west of Sithonia.
[12] This word for spoon isn’t in modern Greek dictionaries; it derives from ancient Greek and was re-invented in katharevousa as κοχλιάριον, with a shorter form χουλιάρι. Lear (or the transcriber) actually writes χουλάρια but it is here corrected by putting the iota in. The monk probably used the word to him.