They have the gift of beauty. If you live in New York or Boston or Chicago, or any other city where there is an Art museum, no doubt you often go on Saturday afternoons to see the casts of famous statues in the museum,—there may even be a cast hanging on your school-room wall,—and you know that the most beautiful statues, and the most famous, are those which the Greeks made, hundreds of years ago. With all our added years of skill and knowledge we have never been able to make any statues more beautiful than those early Grecian ones. If the Greeks bring us this gift of beauty, surely America must some day be a beautiful place to live in, free from crowded tenements, and lovely with fair dwellings.
And the gift of wisdom is theirs; for no philosophers are greater than those ancient Greeks, Socrates and Plato; no poets are greater than Homer, who told the story of Ulysses, or Æschylus who wrote a play about how Prometheus brought fire from heaven and gave it to man. Some day I hope you will read some of this Greek poetry and philosophy; you will never be a really well-educated man, or woman, unless you do.
Thirdly, they can give us the key to the out-of-doors. In the ancient days they were great athletes, they raced and wrestled and leaped, for the pure joy of motion. What does Marathon mean, little schoolmate? Why do we call a race a Marathon? Find out! The Greeks can tell you. To-day they are not such lovers of active sports as they used to be, perhaps, but they still love to live out-of-doors. At home, many of them are farmers, growing currants and olives and lemons; they are shepherds, herding sheep and goats upon the steep hillsides. When I see them trudging along our gray streets shoving their pushcarts of fruit, I cannot help wondering if they do not miss their olive orchards and lemon groves. Even the Greeks who lived in cities, before they came to us, must long for a glimpse of the Athenian acropolis, sometimes.
Do you not think we ought to make our American cities beautiful, so that the immigrants who come to us from more beautiful places need not be too homesick?
And now this homesickness of the Greek, this loyalty to his native land, brings me to the greatest gift he can give us. No matter how far away from Greece he goes, he carries the love of his country with him in his heart forever; and whenever she needs him he is ready to fly to her aid and to spend his money and himself in her service. He is a great patriot, and his children, born in America, ought to be even greater than he, for they must carry the love of two countries in their hearts, and the love of all the races which mingle to make the man we call an American.
But I have talked long enough. I know you are in a great hurry to read the stories which Madame Dragoumis has written for you about the joys and sorrows of the Greek children who might have been your brothers and sisters, if you lived in Greece to-day. You will find them very like you in many ways; very lively and noisy and lovable; patient in work (are you?); full of courage; fond of play; fond of moving picture shows, just as you are, for in Athens where once the people used to go to see the greatest plays in the world acted in the theatre, the plays of the poet Sophocles and Æschylus and Aristophanes, to-day there are cheap moving pictures for amusement, just as there are in New York or Chicago or San Francisco. But we must look forward to the day when our theatres and our plays shall be as great as those of Greece used to be, and the Greek children must help us to make them great.
Affectionately yours,
Florence Converse.