CRETE AND GREECE.
Well, well, well! So little Greece has really done it! While the Great Powers have been worrying each other, have been forming alliances and triple alliances, have been threatening Turkey and shaking their fists at each other, have been trembling in their boots and calling conferences, little Greece has fired upon one of Turkey's ships, and "accepts full responsibility for all her acts."
The first shots came from Crete, that long, beautiful island south of Greece, called in the time of Homer the "Isle of One Hundred Cities." It has a most heroic history, remaining free long after Greece herself had become subject to Rome. Only in the year 68 B.C., after a long and determined effort upon the part of Rome, did Crete surrender.
And her islanders have the same heroic blood in their veins to-day. The trouble now is that Turkish misrule, since she was made over to the Turks in 1840 by the Great Powers, has fanned the old desire for freedom into flame.
The Greeks were most probably unwise in firing upon the Turkish transport Fuad as she was bearing munitions to the Turkish garrison at Canea; but we can hardly blame them.
There comes a time when patience almost ceases to be a virtue. The Cretans are human. They have waited long, though impatiently, and their very impatience has shown us how hard the waiting has been for men of such fiery character. They feel now that they would rather die in the struggle for freedom than submit longer to the injustice of their Turkish rulers.
I was in Athens when the coming of age of Crown Prince George, the brave, handsome young Greek of whom we hear so much, was celebrated.
The streets, from the palace to the church where the ceremonies were to take place, were most beautiful with triumphal arches. Rich tapestries floated from the windows all along the way, and the flags of all nations—among them our own dear Stars and Stripes—swung merrily to the breeze.
The city was full of soldiers. Among them were the Greek mountaineers in their picturesque costume of white linen, consisting of tunics with long, flowing sleeves, and kilted skirts so full and so starched that they stood out like the skirts of a circus rider.
Their long, pointed shoes, which turned up at the toes like a toboggan, had large red rosettes on the very points. Their caps were gayly colored, and a long tassel fell from the crown to their shoulders.
Not a very good fighting costume, you will probably think; but if you had looked into their keen eyes and determined faces, you would have forgotten the costume—especially if they had come to fight you.
They are hardy fellows, and although their enemies outnumber them four to one, we may depend upon it that, if battle comes, there will be as brave and heroic fighting upon the side of the Greeks, as when their forefathers fought the Trojans in the days of long ago.
But they will have need of all their courage, for the enemy is not only fierce, but cruel. The Turks are fatalists, who believe that whatever is to be will be, and that if they are fated to die in battle, nothing can save them.
If they die fighting bravely they believe that they are sure to go to Paradise.
With this belief you can readily see how little they are likely to run away.
Unless the Great Powers interfere, the conflict will be a terrible one. How much better it would be to settle the difficulty by arbitration, and prevent such a cruel war.