Schliemann 1- 30 Schliemann 30-60 Schliemann 60-90 Schliemann 90-120 Schliemann 120-150 Schliemann 150-180 Schliemann 180 – 210 Schliemann 210 – 240 Schliemann 240 – 270 Schliemann 270 – End
(GERMAN ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, ATHENS)
In 1876, the Schliewwns kgw emntm in the Pelofonnem at Mycme, horn oj Agmmnon, Tragedy dimxed the legends and history oj te site, whkh was “rich in gold, kthed in Uood! J
(GERMAN ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, ATHENS)
Great grave circle inside the Lion Gate at Mycenae, as it looked from the fortress walls. Here the SchHemanms were visited by Dom Pedro II, the Emperor of Brazil, and his Empress.
Standing atop the Lion Gate and leaning on lion’s back is Schliemann. His associate and friend WUhelm Dorpfeld is framed in opening at upper left. Sophia, wearing elegant white hat, sits with visitors below.
(GEIMAM ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, ATHENS)
Most interesting discoveries at Mycenae were the Treasuries, which were Tholoi, beehive-shaped tombs. Top left is the entrance to the famous Treasury of Atreus; bottom left is the Second Treasury,
(ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS)
excavated by Sophia (shown in drawing) and her crew. At right are the Third (top) and Fourth Treasuries.
(GERMAN ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, ATHENS)
(ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS)
Eighteen-joot-high entrance to the Treasury oj Atreus w approached by a wdkway 20 l / 2 jeet long. Interior is constructed oj hewn bkcks skilljuUy fitted together without any Unding material. Drawing
shows Heinrich, at left, explaining details to two Athenian visitors.
(ILLUSIHATIB LONDON NEWS)
J. Ptoi of Treasury of Atreus: (A) rock-cut chamber; (B) door way; (C) approach. 2. Section of above: (C) earth- filed approach; (D) slope of ground; (E) wdl on north side of approach;
(F) stone; (G) door to chamber A. Numbers 3 and 4 are sketch plans of Third and Fourth Treasuries respectively.
Mycenaean tombstone has bas-relief of intertwined spirals on upper portion, chariot scene below.
(GENNADIUS LIBRARY, ATHENS)
(FREE UNIVERSITY, WEST EERUN)
(FREE UNIVERSITY, WEST BESLZH
(FSEE UNIVERSITY, WEST BERLIN)
Fwe skeletons m fourth tomb were blanketed in jewelry. Two gold intaglio signet rings fascinated the ScUiemanns: one shows hunt ers in chariot; the other, wmors fighting. Lwge ring has jour wmm } child, pdm tree, double axe. Sir heads on right side mem bk Trajm idok jonnd at Hissarlik,
(HEE UNIVERSITY, WEST mm)
Chy potsherds, asmM by Hmrich, show frocesm oj wmsktot&egev.
(V. & N. TOMBAZI, ATHENS; COURTESY: GREEK NATIONAL TOURIST OFFICE)
Gold mask which Schliemann supposed to be that of Agamemnon (above) was uncovered in first of five graves of Great Grave Circle. At right is one of the cows’ heads from Mycenae. Both are now in National Archaeological Museum in Athens.
(PAVLOS MYLOFF, ATHENS,* COURTESY*. GREEK NATIONAL TOURIST OFFICE;
(COURTESY: ALEX L. MELAS)
(COURTESY: ALEX L, MELAS)
Two drawings made at Great Grave Circle in citadel of Mycenae show Sophia (above) and Heinrich (below) with members of local work crew.
‘” ^
(nXUSTRATH) LONDON NEWS)
In jrock coat and white tie, Schliemam delivered a speech before the Royal Society of Antiquaries at Burlington House in England. Heinrich’s low collar was specially designed by London shirtmaker to minimize his short neck.
TWENTY
Schliemann’s field notes were so detailed that he was able to assemble a definitive book on Mycenae in an amazingly short time. He was impelled to answer criticisms of his brief reports on Mycenae, already published, chiefly in the London Times, which he considered to be the world’s most prestigious newspaper. His scholarly critics ranged from insignificant, like the contentious Ernst Boetticher, to illustrious, like the German archaeologist Ernst Curtius and the Oxford University philologist Hans Muller. They eventually were to contribute immeasurably to general understanding of Schliemann’s discoveries by placing them in proper perspective and interpreting them factually. But neither Curthis nor Muller could accept as valid every conclusion of Schliemann, who coveted the approval of both men.
When the manuscript was completed in the early spring of 1877, Schliemann went off to lecture in Russia, Italy, France and Germany. When in Germany he arranged for publication of the Mycenae book, collaborating with translators. He also talked with a prospective publisher in England, the country where Schliemann’s archaeological accomplishments were first hailed and he was highly esteemed.
Perusal of the columns of the Times and the Illustrated London News discloses that much linage was given to Schliemann in the first six months of 1877 and that many correspondents were sent to Greece. Accelerated interest in that country was in large measure due to the Schliemanns’ excavations that incited travelers and journalists to learn more about Greece, ancient and modern. A
reporter from the Illustrated London News wrote a story about the comparatively new Royal Palace in Athens, indicating that many readers would be familiar with the landmarks mentioned:
The view given in our illustration represents the southern side of the palace, which has most architectural pretensions, and here are the rooms occupied by the Royal family. This side looks to the south over
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the gardens, and commands a fine view of the Acropolis. -From the windows some very interesting- points connected with old Athens can be seen. The fine Corinthian columns of the Temple of Zeus Olympus appear not far beyond the garden enclosure; the Arch of Hadrian is also seen ; and over the Ilissus is the hollow of the old stadium. Away to the left is Hymettus, and in the distant south is the open Mediterranean, with some of the Isles of Greece visible in the blue haze of the horizon.
In the same weekly, an article about the impressive celebration of the Greek Orthodox Easter contained the brief paragraph :
We regret to say, however, that one person at least among the Carnival Sunday masqueraders was seen next day in no befitting condition of mind and body. This was a rollicking, popular humorist of the town, who had put on the classic helmet of the Princely Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, making a little fun of Dr. Schliemann’s recent discoveries there.
When that inconsequential squib was called to Schliemann’s attention, he huffily observed that it was beneath any British journalist to include such a minor incident in his dispatch. Appeasing Heinrich, Sophia said, “Let the swine mock. Instead of being angry, my love, accept it as praise that you are so famous that one of the lowly herd must seek fame through making fun of you/’
That Easter, the Prince of Wales, later to be Edward VII of England, was the guest of the King and Queen of Greece, who shortly after were visited by the King’s sister Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. It may have been coincidence that the Princess of Wales chose to make the first visit to her brother King George I in the same spring that the Schliemann name was prominent in England. It was reported to Heinrich and Sophia that Her Royal Highness, well informed about their excavations, had read articles by and about both of them in widely circulated periodicals and in specialized journals.
Sophia, as a native-born Greek, was upset by the Hellenic royal family’s failure to invite her and Heinrich to court functions honoring visiting royalty, dignitaries and heads of state, who evinced an interest in the Schliemanns. It hurt both of them to be slighted in Greece, especially after the success at Mycenae for which they were being widely acclaimed, particularly in England.
The first of several letters offering honorary membership to
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learned societies of England was sent to Schliemann from London in February 1877. Heinrich’s first invitation came from the British Archaeological Association, requesting that he speak about his excavations and accept a diploma as well as honorary membership of the society.
After Schliemann’s acknowledgment of the honor, he was invited to address the association on April 11. He received and accepted similar invitations from the Royal Institution, the Royal Geographical Society, the Royal Institute of British Architects, the Royal Society of Antiquaries, the Royal Archaeological Association, and the Royal Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland.
With a tentative schedule for an extended stay in London, he put up at the Atheneum Club in early April, subsequently moving to the Charing Cross Hotel. The tone of letters of arrangement from Loftus Brock, a noted architect and a secretary of the British Archaeological Association, showed with what respect Schliemann was regarded.
Courted by intellectuals and lauded by scholars, he often addressed meetings at which he was also extolled by others. At the spring meeting of the Royal Geographical Society, Schliemann spoke, and a Mr. Hutchison read a paper for Bishop Crowther, who could not be present; the Bishop’s paper, entitled Journeys Up the Niger and Notes oj the Neighboring Countries, contained innumerable references to Schliemann’s excavations. By such in direction, various speakers sought to show how much they knew about Schliemann’s accomplishments.
Even the London Grocer’s Association, without even a tenuous connection to archaeology, invited Schliemann to lecture at a meeting and elected him to membership. That fact was reported by the press, whkh assiduously made news of Schliemann’s every appearance before an audience. A line portrait of Heinrich made by an artist of the Illustrated London News was reproduced throughout the world in newspapers, periodicals and professional journals.
Another drawing in the Illustrated London News showed Schliemann delivering a speech before the Royal Society of Antiquaries at Burlington House. In frock coat and white tie, he wore a collar much lower than those of members crowded around him.
The standard height of his collar had been set years earlier after consultation with the London shirtmaker who designed a style that would de-emphasize Schliemann’s short neck, and give the illusion of greater height to his stature.
Clothes-conscious, Schliemann was accompanied to London in 1877 by his valet who kept Schliemann’s apparel in perfect condition brushing, pressing and shining as required. But Schliemann inspected everything as he dressed, often rebrushing garments that were lint- and dust-free. For years his suits, as well as his shirts, were tailored in London, where he also purchased boots and shoes, and headgear from a hatter who made bowlers and beavers to Schliemann’s specifications. Although he itemized in diaries the high sums paid to his tailor, hatter, shirtmaker and shoe designer, Schliemann never identified any of them by name. He once mentioned in passing that his current wardrobe contained fifty suits, twenty hats, forty-two pairs of shoes, thirty walking sticks and fifteen riding crops.
A gentleman of fashion, Schliemann did not look the part as he stood before the members of trade associations and learned societies. The invitations of many of the latter had included Sophia, who did not accompany him to London. He gave the excuse that his wife was not well, which was not the whole truth. Sophia, again pregnant, was suffering only from morning sickness.
The Royal Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland planned to present diplomas of honorary membership to both Sophia and Heinrich, and he urged her by letter to join him in London. Until the last possible day before the Institute meeting, Heinrich delayed in expressing his regrets that Mrs. Schliemann could not be present on Friday, May 4. Unfortunately, the Institute could not postpone its meeting, so Heinrich attended alone.
A large and distinguished company assembled in Schliemann’s honor. The program was opened by the Institute’s president, The Lord Talbot de Malahide, who highly praised the archaeological activities of Schliemann. The president asked the honored guest “to remember how entirely those labours are appreciated by your friends in England, and how sincerely they will welcome their completion and your presence again amongst them.” The Lord de Malahide then addressed himself to the absent Sophia: “As the first lady who has ever been identified in a work so arduous
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and stupendous, you have achieved a reputation which many will envy some may emulate but none can ever surpass.” Heinrich, briefly responding, signed the membership book, and received elegantly embossed diplomas for himself and Sophia. Her absence was so sincerely regretted by the Institute’s members that they planned a special session for paying homage to her. Heinrich received a formal invitation from the Institute’s secretary asking Sophia to be the honored guest of the Royal Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland. She was requested to “read a paper upon such a subject as may be agreeable to her.”
Proud of the invitation to his Sophithion, Heinrich wrote imploring her to journey to London. She, sufficiently advanced in her pregnancy to have recovered from queasiness, was eager to join him. In a letter saying that she would accept the invitation of the Society, Sophia tenderly phrased for Heinrich her feeling about the baby she was carrying, which was theirs together. As devoted wife, she looked forward to being publicly honored as partner to her husband. In Athens, she wrote the paper she would give at the special meeting planned in her honor for Friday, June 8, 1877, at five in the afternoon.
Waiting for Sophia’s arrival, Heinrich worked with the secre tary on the list of invitations to be sent to those who were not members of the Institute. His list included the names of friends, colleagues, and even some critics in other countries. Certain of the scholar detractors Heinrich had forgiven but not Hans Meister, who had issued the petty and sarcastic statement when Schliemann had made his identification of the skeletal embryo found at Troy. The name Hans Meister, which might have been expected to be on Schliemann’s invitation list, was noticeably missing.
Sophia duly arrived in London with the paper she was to read. There were conflicting views on the paper’s authorship. Some maintained that Heinrkh wrote the paper in London; others thought Sophia had composed it in Greek, which Heinrich then translated into English, rewriting as he chose. Neither opinion was correct. His diary and their correspondence about the papei*Kx>nfirmed that she had written it in English, and Heinrich, reading the paper in their London hotel room, had corrected certain phrases so, as she said, her words would be immediately understood by her British listeners.
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On June 6 Schliemann received from Hartshorne twenty additional tickets for the meeting and the request that “Mrs. S. and you arrive here about five minutes after five o’clock on Friday next. Please to send up your name to me and then I will arrange that Mrs. S. is properly met in the staircase and conducted to her seat by the president.”
Dressed well in advance of the appointed hour, Sophia read her speech aloud while Heinrich paced up and down their room. A servant at the door announced the waiting carriage. Heinrich lightly kissed Sophia on the left cheek and offered her his arm. The famous couple, heads high, sallied forth to share together yet another memorable experience.
At the precise minute set by Albert Hartshorne, Sophia and Heinrich reached the top of the sweeping staircase leading to the meeting room of the Royal Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland. The Lord Talbot de Malahide, President of the Institute, greeted them cordially. At his side was the Honor able William Ewart Gladstone, leader of the British Liberal party and four times Prime Minister during the reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Gladstone had asked if he might share the privilege of escorting Mrs. Schliemann to her place in the hall.
With one hand resting lightly on the arm of The Lord de Malahide and the other on the arm of Gladstone, Sophia descended the stairs. Her elegant costume that she wore with grace was accented by a hat elaborately decorated with flowers, in the fashion of the day. She accepted with a radiant smile the welcome of the assembly that rose at her entrance, applauding and cheering.
Heinrich, overcome by emotion, followed behind The Lord de Malahide, Gladstone and Sophia. “As I heard and saw the ovation given to my Sophithion by such a notable assemblage, and as I gazed upon this divine creature, I could only wonder why the great gods of Olympus had given me this woman as wife, friend, colleague and lover. My eyes ran with tears so I could barely see ; my shoulders, arms and hands trembled ; my legs shook so I could hardly walk. Unashamedly I wept copiously and my skin was aflame with bit-bumps as I saw my own Sophithion face the cheering group of distinguished people and merely incline her flushed, smiling face in recognition of this reception.”
When the members and their guests were at last quiet, the chairman presented Sophia with a bouquet of blue and white flowers, the colors of the flag of her native Greece, and graciously introduced her as speaker. It was less than eight years since she had stood up at the Arsakeion School to quote a lengthy passage from Homer for the foreigner and stranger visiting her class room. That schoolgirl had had the simplicity and composure that marked the appearance of the matron, who only twenty-five was yet worthy to be honored at a special meeting of the august Institute. Her intelligent mind, in less than a decade, had absorbed facts and philosophies that she had put to her own use, translating them into ideas productive of scholarly conclusions and interpretations. Sophia’s experience in excavation was much more extensive than that of most of the Institute’s members, whose dedication to the science of archaeology was primarily based on concepts and the written word. Her speech reflected strong attach ment to her Greek heritage, stressed the labors and wonder of excavation, and contained a plea to British mothers for the instruction of their children in Greek so that the classics of her country might be fully appreciated. The sincerity and dignity of young Mrs, Schliemann was admired by the large audience, which gave her a tumultuous standing ovation at the end of the speech.
(Sophia’s complete address appears in Appendix A.)
It was followed by remarks from Heinrich, Gladstone, and Lord Houghton, in that order, at the request of The Lord de Malahide, again presiding. The three men each talked briefly about various pronunciations of ancient Greek words, but their mild controversy did not dim Sophia’s triumph. Heinrich, beaming, remembered his 1869 promise to his bride: “You, my Sophithion, shall be honored as few women have been privileged. Learned men will one day bow to your greatness.”
The Schliemanns lingered on in London for a few days and were honored at a dinner reception given by the Lord Mayor. Again Gladstone was escort to Sophia, who sat at his right. A sumptuous banquet was served, and guests vied with one another in proposing toasts to the Schliemanns. Letters, cables and tele grams of congratulations were read by the chairman. One of the telegrams, signed Ernst Boetticher, read: “Our differences may remain forever. But, no one dares dispute the fact that Dr. and
Mrs. Heinrich Schliemann have persevered in the face of every possible disputation and danger in following a path of personal conviction that cannot help but add greatly to the scholarship of mankind and an understanding of the past.”
Sophia and Heinrich regretted many more invitations than they could possibly have accepted before their departure on June 17. Their last public appearance was at a meeting of the Royal Historical Society held June 12, at 11 Chandos Street, Cavendish Square. Greeted with loud cheers by the members, the Schliemanns were both made Honorary Fellows of the Society, and were presented with beautifully bound diplomas signifying their unanimous election. After they signed the album of membership, Heinrich gave a speech about the excavations made by him and Sophia.
The day the Schliemanns left England, they were accompanied to the boat train by a group of well-wishers that included Glad stone, The Lord de Malahide, and M. Gennadius, Greek charge d’affaires.
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TWENTY-ONE
Most Europeans went to watering places on the Continent because it was the fashionable thing to do; but in 1877 the Schliemanns went from spa to spa consulting doctors and taking cures for specific ailments. Sophia was suffering from a recurrence of her abdominal pains; Heinrich, from persistent earache. Doctors examined his ears and superficially treated them, without conclusive diagnosis.
The Schliemanns did not stay long in one place, nor did they really rest. Both were reading final proofs of the Mycenae book, and Heinrich was, as always, busy with voluminous correspondence and with rebuttals of attacks on his work published in periodicals, both popular and scholarly. After they had spent some time at Boulogne-sur-Mer, Sophia decided she was tired of watering places and went to Paris. The house at 6, Place St. Michel was rented, so Sophia took a large flat on the Rue de Tilsitt.
Heinrich, restless and far from well, began a city-hopping jaunt. He was concentrating on plans for an exhibition of the Trojan treasure in London, a project that distressed Sophia. She was afraid he would decide to leave the collection in England permanently, depriving Greece of antiquities that, she thought, rightfully belonged in a museum at Athens. Heinrich had long vacillated about the disposal of the treasure of Troy, which was sought by the Russian and French governments while the Turks were suing Schliemann. When he had won the case, he tentatively suggested that the one or the other might buy the Trojan collection, but neither government would set terms of purchase. Schliemann, half-hearted about selling, repeatedly stated later that he had never seriously thought of profiting from the sale of the treasure of Troy.
He did offer it as an outright gift to the British Museum in October 1876, and a four-page letter of refusal to Schliemann was signed by J. Winter Jones of the museum’s staff. While acknowl
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edging the “world famous value of the treasure,” Jones explained that the British Museum was already too full to accommodate another exhibition. Confirmation of the museum’s decision is documented in many of Schliemann’s diaries and letters. The rebuff cost the museum the ownership of the treasure of Troy, a tragedy in light of the ultimate disposition and eventual fate of the collection.
The London exhibition, which distressed Sophia, resulted from negotiations that Schliemann had initiated while in the north of France. The London Times of August 16, 1877, printed the following notice:
Dr. Heinrich Schliemann wrote to us from Boulogne-sur-Mer where he is now staying:
“I have much pleasure in informing you that, in order to show my gratitude to the English people for the warm receptions 1 have found with them during my three months* stay in London, I have resolved to bring my Trojan collection, including the treasure in gold and silver, to England and to exhibit it provisionally at the South Kensington Museum. Of course, it is not for sale. I have taken great care to note on every one of the thousands of objects of which the collection is composed, the exact depth at which it was found, and it may, therefore, at a glance be seen to which of the four historic cities, built one atop the other on Mount Hissarlik, each belongs.”
Schliemann^ public offer was accepted at once by the Sooth Kensington Museum, and he centered his complete attention on the arrangements. Sophia, in Paris and without a bank account of her own, was dependent on Heinrich for funds, which he, preoccupied and thoughtless, forgot to send. The 400 francs that he had given her when they parted at Boulogne-sur-Mer were soon gone, and at the end of August Sophia wrote him a pitiful letter, saying she was ashamed not to have money for necessities.
One of her brothers had travelled from Greece with little Andromache who was then in Paris with her mother. Berating Heinrich for running from place to place, Sophia reminded him that he had promised to join his family in Paris and to send money. He was informed that she, worried about finances and distracted by loneliness, often spent her nights agitatedly pacing the floor. Sophia received no tender messages of love and solicitude like those Heinrich had sent when she had been pregnant with Andromache. Their letters of the next few
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months showed that their personal relationship was at a low ebb, as it was whenever they were separated.
Heinrich, again studying the collections in museums through out Europe, was increasingly troubled by earache, and sought medical advice, which he then ignored. Sophia wrote to him in November: “I am desperate that the ear so dear to me continues to ache. I hope it will end very soon. It is strange that last night I felt an acute pain in my right ear which lasted five minutes only and I thought of what you are suffering, my little Henry . . . Dream conscious, he fixed the time of Sophia’s pain as coinciding with an almost unbearable earache he had suffered in Wurzburg. She asked her beloved whether that coincidence did not prove they were bound together to share joy and pain. “The gods have decreed it, Henry, my dearest friend. Please, please return to me so I can hold your head to my bosom.” He did not join her, but continually hinted at dreams that he was afraid to commit to paper- he customarily indicated any important dream by signing H., not Heinrich or Henry, to a letter written the following day.
Sophia, alone with Andromache, felt herself to be abandoned. She moved to 53, Boulevard Haussmann, and often summoned a doctor for Andromache, then six, who was frequently ill with colds, earaches and stomach upsets. Sophia pleaded with Hemrich to consult with doctors in England and Germany so their daughter might be restored to health. When he failed to do his duty as father and husband, Sophia wrote bitterly, “My heart, do not you consider me one of your occupations? I know I am worth nothing, but do not show it to me.”
In vain, helpful Parisian friends tried to comfort and cheer Sophia. With good reason, she resented a letter in which Heinrich criticized her for not properly managing her affairs, and in answer wrote:
Blvd. Haussmann
DEAR HENRY:
Is it not enough that I remain here in poverty by your request? Do not complain that I cannot manage what I do not have. Were it not for friends like the Rallis, I could not make all tilings come together. They know you do not provide. So, it is yotir responsibility that all know.
Your wife?
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That letter elicited from Heinrich the assurance, “All I do is for you alone. Do you think I consider myself? Not for a moment.” Unconvinced, Sophia pointed out how selfish he was, and wondered to him, “How the human mind and soul can delude itsdf and find in every action a justification.” He answered with one line: “Believe what you will, but my adoration is for you alone.”
The Schliemanns seemed hardly to be the same devoted couple who had shared the labor at Troy and the honors in London. Sophia reminded Heinrich that she was not the Sophia of “eight years ago” when they were married. She was indeed a woman of maturity.
Knowing her to be both worldly and wise, Heinrich did not hesitate to enlist her as ally in a difficult family situation that involved Serge, Schliemann’s son by his first wife. Serge, enjoying a liaison with a Parisian actress, threatened to many her after his father called her a “painted, wanton woman.” No record exists of how the affair between Serge and the actress was broken up by Sophia, but soon after Heinrich asked for her help, she wrote assuring him that the actress would never again see Serge, and that the illicit romance was definitely over.
Heinrich could depend on Sophia to solve his problems, but she could not count on him. He frequently went through Paris without stopping off to see Sophia and Andromache, and sent money grudgingly and sporadically. When it did reach Sophia, she often had to use the cash not for immediate necessities, but on bills long overdue.
Her husband thought only of the London exhibition. In Greece, Sophia’s brother Alexandros and other agents of Schliemann collected the treasure from its various repositories; some objects had remained hidden even after the legal ruling that Schliemann owned and could keep the collection. By consent of the Greek government, a few Mycenaean artifacts were added to the exhibit material. Schliemann himself made three quick trips to Athens in late autumn, supervising plans for the shipment of the objects to London. There he rolled up his elegant shirtsleeves and person ally worked on the installation with two staff members of the South Kensington Museum as aides.
When Heinrich was in England, working on the project that absorbed his total attention, Sophia wrote: “Dearest husband and friend, my hand meets yours across the land and channel.
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Our love for each other is enough for me. May we expect you for Christmas? Your own and only yours, Sophia/’ Heinrich promised not only to be with her and their child in the apartment on Boulevard Haussmann, but that the Christmas would be one “none will ever forget/’
Schliemann was delighted with the attention his exhibition at tracted even before its opening, scheduled for December 20, 1877. Three days earlier the Times ran a full column story, giving a de
tailed description of the exhibit. The report began with the paragraph :
The sightseers of London have a new and original treat in store for them in the remains from Hissarlik, on the plains of Troy, now being arranged by Dr. Schliemann, in some twenty cases, in one of the Courts of the South Kensington Museum. On the much-vexed question of the antiquity and historical value of these remains we do not intend now to enter; we wish simply to give an idea of the number and variety of the objects to be seen, which form but a part of the whole disinterred by Dr. Schliemann.
Sophia, close to the time of her delivery, was disconsolate in Paris. In a letter phrased with an anguish comparable to a lament from some ancient Greek tragedy, she wrote to Heinrich: “Are the praises of the English, the obeisance of the world, the sight of more and more objects, the selfish travels from place to place by yourself of greater importance than your family? Answer me, my friend. Tell me what is in your mind and heart. Why? Why do you demand, yet ignore? I thanks god for you, yet wonder what manner of man you are. No, my friend, I do not wonder because I know. I understand you and know the fate of every woman who is joined to a genius. How do I know ? Because I have lived with you, been your partner, friend, lover and slave since our marriage. Also, I know because I have asked for books about men whose fame has lasted through the centuries, as will yours, my Henry. These books tell me that their wives have suffered as do I, but were privileged to share moments of glory as I have. A woman’s place is but nothing in the shadow of her husband, and I thanks god that my fortune has been to be your wife, your shadow, rather than the wife of a man who works, spends time with his friends in the coffee house and comes home to his meal and his bed/*
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Although ill, Heinrich was sustained by elation. The Times of December 20 mentioned a forthcoming handbook of the Trojan collection, and thoroughly reviewed the exhibition. Heinrich, pleased with the long article, wrote about it to Sophia : “Be proud with me, my own darling wife, that the Times today saw fit to say that *. . . Dr. Schliemann may fairly be called the creator of Homeric archaeology. This title is his after finds at Mycenae, a scantling of which, it may be remarked in passing, enriches the collection opened to-day, have helped make good/ How I would you were here to share this with me, especially since you, my love, are a full partner in whatever I have been able to do/*
She must have been ambivalent about that letter. By the time she received it, the Christmas that Heinrich had promised would be unforgettable was past, and his one passion had taken precedence over his love of family. He remained in London for the holiday season, and Sophia had a dreary Christmas in Paris, cloudy and cold, with only her brother Spiros and Andromache for company.
In London, Heinrich, partially deaf and tortured with ear ache, strolled through the exhibition hall with friends, and con fronted those detractors who had come from many countries to see for themselves the discoveries of Schliemann. On his last day in England, as Schliemann was leaving the South Kensington Museum he ran into Hans Meister, the man who had sarcastically attacked Schliemann’s embryo discovery at Troy. Reporting on that incident to Sophia, Heinrich wrote: “As our eyes met, we looked deep into each other. At that moment, a young scholar said to a friend, ‘That is Meister who was never invited to any of Schliemann’s public triumphs in London. Something must have passed darkly between them in the past/ My darling, I heard and Meister heard ; we looked and I was the first to pass on.”
Irritable from illness and driven by his uncontrolled energy, Heinrich again passed on, but not to Paris. With nothing else to complain about, he wrote a letter chiding Sophia for her inability to write and speak as many languages as he. She answered with a short note written in four languages, the last English, in which she wrote: “You must come here because I did not have any joy at Christmas time. Love, Sophia/’
She wrote again to say their child Andromache was well and
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the “one to come tries to make his presence evident with all his force/’ From the time of the child’s conception in less stormy times for the Schliemanns, Heinrich had referred to the coming as the birth of “my child” or “when he will be born.” He discussed the future of the anticipated boy child in glowing terms.
But Sophia was alone in Paris for the birth of their son. In formed of the infant’s arrival, Schliemann announced the birth to the world, and rushed to Paris. Sophia immediately was com forted by Heinrich’s love and strength, and without hesitation forgave him for his heedless behavior of the months past. In reunion, the Schliemanns rejoiced together over the new heir, who was called not Odysseus, as they had so long planned, but Agamemnon, in honor of the great king of Mycenae, scene of their latest triumph.
At Agamemnon’s christening in a Greek Orthodox church, Heinrich was difficult, stopping the bearded priest just as he was about to lower the infant into the baptismal font. The finicky and hypochondriacal Heinrich took a thermometer from his pocket and placed it in the water, forcibly holding back the sputtering priest. He threatened to leave and not to continue with the ceremony, but Sophia, as so often in times of crisis with Hein rich, was able to charm the priest, persuading him to stay. He was intoning the baptismal rites when Heinrich, again interrupting, placed a copy of Homer’s Odyssey on the baby’s forehead and recited one hundred lines from the classic before the priest could resume the religious ceremony.
Schliemann had his way at the baptism, but the ritual with the Homeric volume did not influence Agamemnon to follow in the footsteps of his father as scholar and archaeologist. The son, who inherited Heinrich’s business sense, became a successful financier.
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TWENTY-TWO
Heinrich, publicly triumphant in London and elsewhere, was, as usual, egotistical and outwardly self-satisfied. But a new thoughtful point of view reflected a mellowing and a willingness to co operate with others in the world of archaeology. He noted that established scholars were being forced into a re-examination of their discipline, which was attracting new men from whom Schliemann thought he could learn. Stimulated to more profound study, not of antiquities but of theories, he traveled widely, seeking out men who questioned archaeological interpretations made both by himself and by others with field experience.
Schliemann’s transition from impetuous excavator and starry-eyed romantic to realistic scholar was due in part to the considerable influence of Rudolph Virchow, an internationally known German medical scientist, whose broad interests encompassed anthropology, archaeology and politics. Virchow, three months Schliemann’s senior, had been a brilliant student with sufficient money to explore several professions before deciding on medicine. He became a professor of pathological anatomy and leader of the German school that dominated world medicine in the mid-19th century. In 1862 Virchow was elected to the Prussian Diet, and thereafter was an active liberal in his country.
Intrigued by Schliemann’s reports on his excavations, Virchow initiated a correspondence that led to friendship, to joint investigation in the Troad, and to travel for archaeological study. Virchow’s association with Schliemann had far-reaching effects of historic significance.
Both men were imaginative and dynamic, but Virchow, also cool, contained, intrepid and imperturbable, had a knack for calming Schliemann. He advised Schliemann to disregard the libelous attacks of certain classicists, and to take into account only those scholars well disposed toward him and the universal support of the mass public.
Encouraged to be his own man, Schliemann returned to the
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island of Ithaca in the summer of 1878 to carry out an exploration he had started years earlier. Ithaca was the Homeric king dom of Odysseus, who, after the Trojan War, spent ten drama-packed years trying to regain his home. Schliemann ^thought that his added experience in excavating would now help him find ruins of importance. At the site of Ithaca’s capital on Mount Aetos, he uncovered ruins of 190 houses, built of cyclopean masonry; and crews, under his direction, excavated the home of Ithaca’s kings, situated at the very summit. Guided once again by the writings of Homer and Pausanias, Schliemann compared the excavated areas with their descriptions. He found, to his own satisfaction, the spring of water that fit the identical description of the Homeric place where the swine of Eumaeus were watered, and identified stables mentioned by Homer. Two coins unearthed at the foot of Aetos delighted Schliemann: One side of each coin showed a cock and was marked with the word Ithakon; the other side was decorated with the head of Odysseus, wearing a conical cap.
When Schliemann had to leave Ithaca, he said a reluctant fare well to the wealthiest man on the island, Aristides Dendrinos, and his wife Praxidea, who had been most hospitable, as, according to Heinrich’s published works, he asserted they would be to any traveler to Ithaca. He noted that their two children were named Telemachus and Penelope, after the son and wife of Odysseus, classical names that Schliemann considered to be only proper for children’ of Ithaca.
“Rare is this island with its beauty, its history and its people. In such a short time I have been rewarded with finding the ancient capital and made welcome by the people who now dwell here. When I left today, a large number of the populace swarmed around me, urging upon me presents for my wife and children. Their tears, matched with my own, were evidence of their love of Homer and affection for me. Thanks god for my life! To have experienced such honor as the diverse London and Ithaca is a thing few men warranted. I shall return, as I promised, in the company of my darling Sophithkm and my two children.”
At Athens, Heinrich packed for a return to Hissarlik and begged Sophia to accompany him, but she refused. She would neither leave her children nor spend another miserable winter at Troy, for which she had already sacrificed too much. Accepting the inevitable, Schliemann proceeded alone to the Dardanelles in
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late September 1878. Months earlier he had applied for another firman, the one of 1876 having expired. There were the usual difficulties over the new application, which, through the inter cession of Sir Austen Henry Layard, British Ambassador at Constantinople, had been pushed through with the firman predated to September. Layard had been first to excavate Nimrud.
It could only have been cupidity that led the Turks to grant firman after firman to Schliemann, known to them as a trouble maker, not to be trusted. The Turks tolerated him as the only man with funds and the ability to excavate antiquities for their Imperial Museum. Surprisingly, in the firman of 1878 they did not insist on keeping all objects from Troy, but gave Schliemann the right to a third of the finds. He was required to pay the wages of eleven guards one overseer, who would carry the key to the storehouse, and ten gendarmes. Schliemann wrote: “The ten gendarmes, to whom I paid 20 pounds and 10 shillings monthly, were all of great use to me, for they not only served as guards against the brigands by whom the Troad was infested, but they also carefully watched my laborers whilst they were excavating, and thus forced them to be honest.”
Five days after the excavations were reopened in 1878, a work man, stuffing a small stone idol into his pocket, was caught in the act by a Turkish guard. The guard twisted the workman’s arm behind his back and, with the butt of a gun, beat him until he dropped unconscious. Schliemann was revolted by the display of cruelty, which increased his loathing for the Turks; but he knew better than to interfere and, sickened, turned away.
Schliemann accepted the guards as necessary evils. In October an armed band swept down on Kalifatli, a small community about twenty minutes by foot from Hissarlik. It had been rumored that one of the villagers had a hoard of 10,000 francs, and his house was the target of the brigands. The intended victim ran to the roof to sound an alarm that brought out his neighbors, armed with rifles. Two villagers and two brigands were killed before the arrival erf the ten Turkish gendarmes, whose torture of captured brigands was soon common knowledge in the Troad. The presence of the guards at Hissariik was a deterrent to other lawless bands of the region.
Schliemann, in his fourth season at Troy, concentrated on an extensive section near the Skaean Gate and confirmed his opinion
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that a building there had been the home of the last chief of Troy. He uncovered hundreds of objects of historical value, and fumed when the Turks locked up two-thirds of each day’s find in their section of the warehouse. He had to abide by the rules or leave the digs, but his letters and diaries indicate that he took advantage of the ignorance of the Turks. When sorting the objects with the overseer, Schliemann sometimes gave up gold ones that were much less important than those of terracotta and stone which he kept for himself.
Troy was so well known by 1878 that it attracted many visitors who tramped around the digs, delaying work to a certain extent When the importance of the visitors required Schliemann to be cordial, he stopped whatever he was doing to guide them through the excavations. On October 21 officers of the British ship H.M.S. Monarch paid an official call on Schliemann at the very moment when he discovered several magnificent vases in the ruins of the house where he was digging. News of that latest find reached the outside world long before Schliemann was ready to announce it, because the Monarch’s officers wrote about the vases in letters to relatives and friends.
Although Schliemann had improved his techniques for digging, he still was attacked by scholars who read of new discoveries. In January 1879 a squib in the Times stated that “it is rumored that Dr. Schliemann will never again excavate at Troy. His anger at libels and a dire trouble in his ear which causes deafness are combined to force him to retire.” The rumor of retirement had no basis in fact. In February Schliemann was granted another firman and soon was at Troy with 10 armed guards and 150 work men. The weather conditions would have forced a lesser man to dose down the excavations, but Schliemann, though plagued by severe pain in his right ear, stayed on. “Up to the middle of March, I suffered cruelly from the north wind, which was soky cold that it was impossible to read or write in my wooden barracks, and it was only possible to keep warm by active exercise of work in the trench. To avoid taking cold, I went, as I have always done, very early in the morning on horseback to the Hellespont to take my sea-bath, but I always returned to Hissarlik before sunrise and before the work commenced.”
Schliemann was Spartan but foolhardy, as he was told by Virchow, who arrived at Hissarlik late in March. He advised
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against the daily sea baths as being detrimental to the ear condition, but Heinrich would not heed the warning. He insisted that the morning swim in salt water kept him tough and healthy.
Schliemann and Virchow were joined in April by fimile Burnouf, the French scholar who had so often been consulted by Schliemann during earlier excavations at Troy. Sharing his work and accepting in-the-field advice for the first time, Schliemann was unable to resist a slight condescension, saying that
Burnouf and Virchow “both assisted me in my researches, to the utmost of their ability.” Their respective abilities made the team of three remarkable. Burnouf, an engineer, artist, and authority on ancient architecture, had worked with an archaeological group at Olympia and was experienced in making maps of excavations. His mission to Troy was underwritten by the French government. The erudite Virchow, a keen observer, studied the flora and fauna and geology of the Troad, and not only practiced medicine but did important research in that field. His stay at Hissarlik was subsidized by Schliemann, who sharply reminded Virchow of his generosity at a later date.
The three men uncovered town walls at the digs, Virchow and Burnouf interpreting many things that had escaped Schliemann when he had worked alone. They examined various layers of specific cities, carefully removing debris at a pace slower than that to which Schliemann was accustomed. His snap judgments were tempered by the more deliberate ones of Virchow and Burnouf. Fourteen tumuli were excavated on the plain beside the Scamander River, the tombs yielding little immediate return for the large amount of money Schliemann spent on the project. But Virchow and Burnouf both thought that the tumuli would be of considerable value when, after doser investigation, the data amassed was correlated with facts learned at other sites.
Climbing to the peak of Mount Chigri, the three men studied the vast Hellenic ruins first explored by Frank Calvert. Their examination added to the accumulating knowledge about the Mycenaean civilization, by comparative and confirmative links with excavations at Troy, Mycenae, and other sites subsequently explored. Schliemann was the first to admit that he alone unveiled the Mycenaean age, a picture at first dim and shadowy that be came dearer through restoration by archaeologists who followed him.
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