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The Turkish action caused universal indignation, and letters of protest by the hundreds were sent to Greek authorities and to Schliemann. Even some who had previously been his bitter critics closed ranks, praising Schliemann and his contributions to science.
Every delay in the courtroom gave Heinrich an excuse for trips to other European cities, from which he returned with each resumption of testimony. He wrote to Renan from Bologna that being forced to suspend excavation, he could not “waste time sitting in Athens, So, I am continuing my studies in the museums and archives of the Continent, the better to interpret my past and future finds/’
Now and again, Sophia briefly joined Heinrich in Europe, con ferring with him about the bwsuit. She returned to Athens with confidential messages to the lawyers and instructions for her personal dealings with officials.
Sophia and Heinrich were elected to honorary membership by the Greek Archaeological Society of which Eustratiades was a director. No sooner was Schliemann a member than someone in the Society suggested that he might enhance his puWk image by paying for the removal of an ugly Prankish Tower from the Acropolis, The Turks, who occupied Greece for four centuries of turmoil and bloodshed, constructed the Tower as a fortification that overshadowed the Propylea and the Parthenon. Under the supervision of members of the Archaeological Society, the Tower was razed at a cost of 9,000 drachmae, donated by Schliemann. The Society’s vice-president, S. Fendikles, wrote on July 4, 1874, profusely thanking Schliemann for his contribution to the continuing restoration of the glories of ancient Greece.
It must have given Schliemann considerable satisfaction to finance the destruction of anything Turkish, because he was in a mood to do physical violence to Turks who persecuted him with words in the courtroom and with actions in Greece and Europe. Without warning Turks swarmed into the Schliemanns’ house in Athens and into the homes of Sophia’s relatives, vainly looking for Trojafo treasures. It was embittering to the Schliemanns that the Turks made their raids by authority of the Greek government In European hotels, Heinrich several times was awakened by Turks who forced their way into his room and left only after they were satisfied he had no treasure with him. On other occasions his hotel rooms were torn apart during his absence. He and Sophia were shadowed wherever they went, as were some members of her family.
Yannakis was a victim of Turkish cruelty. He had stayed on at Hissarlik to act as guide for ambassadors and scholars who came from all over the world to visit the excavations, sonoe to observe and some to study the trenches and objects displayed at the site. The Schliemanns, pleased by reports from Yannakis, were heart-skk to learn he had been placed under arrest by Turks who, raiding the HiB, had destroyed many objects in the storehouse aad had set fire to the buildings. Schliemann’s efforts to have Yannakis freed were thwarted by the wily Turks. They spirited their prisoner from the jail at Konm-Kale, incarcerated him at Erenkeoy, and finally placed him in irons at the Dardanelles, from where he was released through Schliemaiin’s intenxsskxi. But Yannakis carried to his grave the scars of wounds inflicted by his Turkish gaolers.
To no avail, Heinrich and his friends made formal protest about the surveillance and indignities to which the Schliemanns and their family were subjected. Turkish and Greek officials completely distrusted the motives of Sophia, who regularly con ferred with visiting dignitaries and entertained influential Greeks. Twice the Greek police physically forced her to remain at home when they knew she had planned to visit people suspected of conspiracy with her and Heinrich. A politician, seeking to call on Sophia, was recognized by police, who barred entry to him on one occasion, and on another, pushed him back into his carriage, whipping his horses into a gallop.
After months of lengthy deliberation, the Greek judges ruled that Dr. Schliemann could keep the treasure of Troy but must pay an indemnity to the Turkish government. Congratulations were sent immediately to the Schliemanns by their long-time adversaries Valassopoulos and Eustratiades. But when the latter presented his calling card at the Schliemanns’ house, he was in formed by a servant that Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann were not at home to Mr. Eustratiades.
Heinrich, jubilant in victory, invested in the future when complying with the court order to make payment to the Turkish government. Astutely capping his success, he sent to Turkey not only the 10,000 gold francs stipulated, but also an additional 40,000 as contribution to the Imperial Museum at Constantinople. Schliemann figured that his generosity would in time pay dividends. And it did.
SEVENTEEN
The Christmas holidays of 1874 were merry and lively. Heinrich was home with his family. Sophia, humming cheerfully, darted about the house putting up festive decorations and supervising the preparation of confections that gave off mouth-watering aromas. Friends and relatives called early and late, delivering brightly wrapped gifts that were added to a heaping pile.
Heinrich had been profligate when he shopped in seven countries, purchasing lavish gifts for Sophia and her many relatives, buying the greatest number for Andromache. She was permitted to open a few presents on Christmas, but the rest were saved for the New Year’s first day, always celebrated by Greeks in honor of St. Basil, churchman and philanthropic founder of Basilias, a city for the needy.
Andromache, not yet three, was allowed to stay up on New Year’s Eve. As the hours wore on, she tried to overcome drowsi ness by toddling from doting uncles to her adoring grandmother to playful cousins. Heinrich was amused when Andromache, tugging at his trouser leg, asked him please to pinch her. Finally she sat on the floor, banging her head against a door jamb to stave off sleep. Although she could not have understood the mid night ceremony, her piping voice joined with the others harmonizing through “Kalanda,” a carol to St. Basil, that signaled the arrival of 1875.
Sophia was hostess at the family’s traditional New Year’s Day dinner, climaxed by the cutting of the Vasilopeta. Bishop Vimbos blessed the New Year’s cake, and then Heinrich, as head of the household, cut the first slice. It was set aside for the Lord, the second slice was for St. Basil, and successive slices were for the family, by order of age. Heinrich dramatically prolonged the serving of the Vasilopeta, tantalizing grownups and children alike. When all were served, adults hastily separated their pieces with forks; youngsters crumbled theirs with fingers. Somewhere
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in the cake there was a coin, a lucky piece assuring a happy year to the finder.
Disappointed expressions already had crossed several faces when Sophia, coin in hand, let out a squeal. Licking the coin dean, she looked at it closely and her eyes filled with tears. She got up, walked to the far end of the table, and tenderly embraced her husband.
The coin, passed from hand to hand around the table, was recognized by the grownups as one always carried by Heinrich. Men and women alike began to shed tears and to exclaim with the animation and gesticulations so characteristic of the uninhibited and emotional Greeks. Seeing the coin, Bishop Vimbos also rose and went to embrace Heinrich. When they first were friends in St. Petersburg, Vimbos, the struggling theological student, had given the coin to Heinrich, the young businessman risking every thing on ventures that became the foundations of his fortunes.
Heinrich had substituted his coin for the modern one given to the cook for the Vasilopeta. Sophia knew how much the coin meant to Heinrich and, on that New Year’s Day she placed it in her jewel case where it remained until she died.
Celebration of the New Year continued after dinner with toasts by the adults, and games for the children. Heinrich played with the children, teased the menfolk, and even danced some sedate steps with Madame Victoria. Few ever saw Heinrich in holiday mood jolly, witty, gay and gracious. He seemed another man entirely from Schliemann the dedicated archaeologist, the canny tycoon, the opinionated scholar. There was no resemblance to the man capable of smuggling treasure out of Turkey, of out witting international financiers, and of establishing a reputation for recalcitrance^ His obstinance was in evidence during the week following the New Year when he argued over details of the law suit with government officials of Greece and Turkey.
In the first weeks of 1875, Schliemann’s study, normally well-ordered, looked like the command post of some major operation, which in fact it was. He analyzed international stock-market reports and gave orders for the management of his far-flung properties. He considered business propositions made to him, and initiated enterprises of his own. Messengers dashed to and from the study with mail and cables. There were daily requests to
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Schliemann to write articles for scholarly journals, to speak at conferences, at universities, and before members of learned societies. Often the pace became too much even for him, and stretching out on the floor, he went through a routine of exercises.
Heinrich, in rare contentment, was happy at home, and his state of mind was reflected by Sophia’s joy. Little Andromache enjoyed her father’s undivided attention for part of every day. When the weather warmed enough for Heinrich to ride to Phaleron for his morning swim, he often took Andromache with him and showed her a trick that delighted them both. One morning an old servant went along and rowed them out from shore. Heinrich, expertly diving into the water, disappeared, and Andromache chuckled because she knew he was playing their game. The servant, nervous about anyone who swam in the sea, cried out in alarm, “The master has sunk ! He is nowhere to be seen !”
Andromache giggled.
Her father, suddenly surfacing, grabbed the side of the row-boat. His receding hair was plastered tight to his head ; his mustache dripped with globules of salt water that glinted in the sun. Heinrich grasped the arm of the servant, who, dropping his oars, said, ‘Thanks god! You are not drowned!” Solemn-faced, he did not join in the loud laughter of Heinrich and Andromache that rang out over the Bay of Phaleron. Although he frequently drove Heinrich and his little daughter to Phaleron, the servant never failed to be distressed by Heinrich’s dive and disappearance.
One morning at breakfast, after his swim, Heinrich, in a sepulchral tone, said, “Today I have decided, my darling Sophithion, to leave four days from now for the Continent/’ She smiled at him and, without comment, continued to eat. Did he think that she had forgotten, that she did not know the date? It was April 1, the day of the fools, the day when she and her beloved friend and husband always tried to best each other.
Heinrich was traveling in Europe during the summer, and on August 10 he wrote her a peevish letter from Copenhagen. He fussed about the climate of Denmark, decried the ruthlessness of the royal family, described the ugliness of Danish women, and complained about Sophia’s management of their affairs in Athens. His captious words did not fool Sophia, who knew her Heinrich well. She answered him with a succinct letter in which she spelled
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out the truth for him. “Your state of mind and emotion, undoubtedly unfair to all mentioned in your letter, was obviously a result of not being feted as you feel is your due.” Heinrich’s answer to her was loving and cheerful.
From Copenhagen he went to Stockholm, and from there to Germany. At Dobberan he took the baths to freshen his body and mind. He refused a dinner invitation from the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg, but spent an hour with him, promising to send a gift of antiquities for his museum. Heinrich pressed on to Rostock, where he lectured at the university that gave him the doctoral degree. He visited his sister Doris at Robel, en route to Berlin. In quick succession Schliemann visited museums at Danzig, Dillenberg, Pest, and Vienna ; and doubled back from a brief stayin Paris to Leipzig, where he received a standing ovation from a lecture audience.
In late September, after a quick trip to Athens, he was in Naples and Rome, where he advised members of the government about Italian excavations. On October 10 he met with Minister Benghi in Albano, and three days later was in Palermo. While speeding from place to place in compulsive study of ancient objects and history, he answered voluminous correspondence forwarded from Athens. He complained that keeping up with his mail hampered his studies, but he refused Sophia’s offer to write replies to routine communications. Many letters contained pleas for financial aid from the poor of the world who had read about his largess to the Turkish government. They could not have known that Heinrich’s gift of 40,000 gold francs was a calculated investment.
Late in 1875 he went to Constantinople to call on Safvet Pasha, who had expressed in glowing terms his gratitude for the generous donation to the Imperial Museum. After exchanging amenities, Schliemann blandly broached the subject of a new firman for excavation at Hissarlik. Safvet Pasha, usually in scrutable, was visibly shaken by Schliemann’s audacity.
The effrontery of Schliemann amazed even his friends in Turkey. However he had rationalized the smuggling of the treasure from Turkey, the fact remained that by his action he had broken his agreement with the government. Impressed by Schliemann’s daring, his friends rallied to his cause, and the firman was about to be signed when the Council of State peremptorily rejected his request. As devious as the Turks, Schliemann called on His Excellency Rashid Pasha, Minister of Foreign Affairs, a cultivated and worldly gentleman, who was receptive to the idea of further excavation at the site of Troy. He went personally to His High ness the Grand Vizier, Mahmoud-Nedim Pasha, to say a good word for Schliemann. Negotiations were slow, but Schliemann had his firman by the end of April 1876.
Leaving Sophia at home, Heinrich went to the Dardanelles and encountered an old enemy with a long memory. The Governor of the Dardanelles and the Archipelago, Ibrahim Pasha, unforgiving about the stolen treasure, had ordered the raid and destruction at Hissarlik and the arrest of Yannakis. Ibrahim Pasha also had profited from the sale of rights for excavation at Hissarlik: with his official permission, wealthy tourists, provided with spades and shovels, took away such artifacts and objects as they were able to dig up.
By late spring of 1876 the Governor of the Dardanelles, although reluctant, was somehow forced to honor the new firman. But he sent as watchdog to Hissarlik a weasel-eyed overseer, Isset Effendi, whose instructions were to obstruct operations at every turn. He carried out his orders with such zeal that Schliemann, deeply angered, sent a scathing letter to the Times of London. He let it be known to all that the lengthy epistle about his treatment by the Turks had been written by him. The Times printed the letter on July 24.
I hear, with regret, that Dr. Schliemann, though powerfully supported by the foreign Ambassadors at Constantinople and by many of the more enlightened Turkish Ministers, has not been able as yet to carry on his excavations at Troy. The Porte granted him a Firman, and, after engaging a large number of workmen, Dr. Schliemann hoped that nothing would interfere with his further explorations of the ruins at Hissarlik. Unfortunately, the Governor of the Dardanelles and the Archipelago, Ibrahim Pasha, did not approve Dr. SchUemann’s presence. During the last three years he had exercised a kind of protectorate over “the diggings” at Troy. All travellers had to apply to him for a permit to inspect the trenches opened by Dr. Schliemann, while, after the Doctor’s return, the Governor’s authority ceased. This seems to have offended his vanity. It is difficult, also, for any Oriental to imagine that people can spend large sums of money in digging for
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mere rubbish, and after the discovery of the gold and silver ornaments at Hissarlik three years ago, the people in the neighborhood and the Governor himself looked upon the place as a vast gold mine. Hence, Ibrahim Pasha, though obliged to obey the Sultan’s Firman, threw every kind of obstacle in Dr. Schliemann’s way. He appointed a delegate, a certain Isset Effendi, who was to receive a salary of 20 pounds a month, and whose chief object seems to have been to thwart Dr. Schliemann’s labours. The Doctor had to dismiss his own servants and to engage Turkish navvies. He was not allowed to make drawings of the new objects which were discovered, and he was expected with regard to any new excavations to obey the orders of the Governor and his delegate. At last the Doctor’s patience, which is great, seems to have given way. The Firman gave him 600 acres of land on which to build whatever houses and sheds he required for himself, his clerks, and servants. The Governor, putting his own interpretations on this clause, insisted on Dr. Schliemann covering the whole of these 600 acres with houses and magazines of stone and wood. After trying for two months to come to terms with the Governor of the Dardanelles, Dr. Schliemann, I am sorry to hear, has left the field of his labours, and I doubt whether, in the present state of public affairs in the Turkish Provinces, he is likely soon to return.
The Vilayet of the Dardanelles seems to have enjoyed the most perfect security under the governorship of Ibrahim Pasha’s predecessor, Achmed Kaiserli Pasha, the present Minister of the Navy. At present it is infested by brigands and the whole country is in a state of utter misery. At Priapson (Caraboa) the Circassians quite recently wounded and killed a large number of Christians, and forced the remainder to fly naked to Peristasis, in European Turkey. At Bairamits, at the foot of Mount Ida, not more than 40 miles from the Dardanelles, the Redifs, on the 16th of June, ransacked the town and killed the Christian inhabitants. The Governor, Ibrahim Pasha, sent no troops to protect
them, nor has any notice been taken to the murders lately committed at Chois. Whether Ibrahim Pasha will be supported by the authorities at Constantinople remains to be seen, but it is hardly likely that in present circumstances the Turkish Government will have time to pay much attention to Dr. Schliemann’s just complaints. This is much to be regretted. As it is, the trenches opened at Hissarlik have been filled by rubbish washed down from the ruins, and are now 10 ft. less deep than they were three years ago. Dr. Schliemann intended more especially to explore the lowest stratum at Hissarlik, which ought to solvesome of the most interesting problems connected with the early civilization of that neighborhood, but the difficulties are very great. If the stratum containing the gold ornaments is to be identified with Troy, then, as Dr. Schliemann has proved by measuring- the accumulation of rubbish, its date could not be less than 3000 B.C. or about 2,000 years before the traditional date of Homer. The lower stratum, however, would go far beyond 3000 B.C. and yet, to judge from some specimens, the pottery found in it seems more perfect than that of the later cities. In examining again the layers of ruins of the first city in the great trench, Dr. Schliemann found that they slope towards the great tower, which belongs to the second city, and that, consequently, the first town must have been very small, consisting of a couple of large buildings only. There are powerful walls belonging to one of them, possibly the sanctuary of a Phrygian goddess erected on the rock of Hissarlik.
Here are problems of the highest importance for students of historic and prehistoric antiquities, but unless Dr. Schliemann is powerfully supported at Constantinople, the evidence by which alone they can be solved may be lost for ever and Troy be destroyed once more. Through the immediate reaction of influential diplomats representing powerful governments, repercussions to the letter were
swift and far-reaching. Ibrahim Pasha was heavily fined and imprisoned, Safvet Pasha, a victim of high-echelon reorganization, was sent to a remote post, his career ruined. Schliemann wasted no time in celebration of victory over Turkish officialdom. His attention had already shifted to Mycenae, because the Greek government had granted him another permit for excavation.
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EIGHTEEN
Schliemann had first visited Mycenae in 1868, rapidly exploring the citadel and the lower town of the place once ruled by Agamem non, one of the aggressors of the Trojan War. Schliemann’s research and his “extra sense,” which he thought of as a gift from the gods of Olympus, led him to the conclusion that the thread of history binding Asia Minor, the Greek islands and the Hellenic mainland was much stronger than was commonly accepted.
The Mycenaean landscape was forbidding even in early summer when Schliemann made his initial investigations. The sky was often clouded above the horseshoe ridge of mountains dominated by two bare peaks to the east of the citadel. It crowned a hill more than 900 feet above sea level, with a sheer diff to the south. Two gloomy ravines cut through the narrow flatland dose to the fortification walls.
In prehistoric times that geological fastness was chosen as the seat of an empire that controlled the Argolid, a large area of the Peloponnesus. Nature’s stark aspect symbolized tragedy, which dimaxed every legend and all history of Mycenae. Blood flowed there in the days of Perseus, son of Zeus, and of Atreus, son of Pelops; and Agamemnon, on the day of his return from the Trojan War, died a gory death at the hands of his wife, Clytem-nestra, and her lover, Aegisthus.
After studying the site in 1868, Schliemann propounded a controversial theory about Mycenae. It was one of the two prime theories about andent civilizations published in his Ithaca, the Peloponnesus and Troy, a copy of which he had presented to Madame Victoria on the first evening he spent with Sophia’s family. In that work, for which he was awarded his doctorate by the University of Rostock, he stated that royal tombs would be found within the extant cyclopean walls of the Mycenae citadel. His theory was in direct contradiction to the one firmly held by most scholars who, like him, based their conclusions on a passage from Descriptions of Greece (11,16,6) written by the 2nd-century topographer and travder Pausanias.
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Amongst other remains of the wall is the gate, on which stand lions. They [the walls and the gate] are said to be the work of the Cyclopes, who built the wall for Proteus of Tiryns. In the ruins of Mycenae is the fountain called Perseia and the subterranean buildings of Atreus and his children, in which they stored their treasures. There is the sepulchre of Atreus, and the tombs of the companions of Agamemnon, who on their return from Ilium were killed at a banquet by Aegisthus. The identity of the tomb of Cassandra is called In question by the Lacedaemonians of Amyclae. There is the tomb of Agamemnon and that of his charioteer Eurymedon, and of Electra. Teledamus and Pelops were buried in the same sepulchre, for it is said that Cassandra bore these twins, and that, while as yet infants, they were slaughtered by Aegisthus together with their parents. . . . Clytemnestra and Aegis thus were buried at a little distance from the wall, because they were thought unworthy to have their tombs inside of it, where Agamemnon reposed and those who were killed together with him.
Pausanias’ lines about Clytemnestra and Aegisthus were generally interpreted as meaning that the murderers were buried outside the walls that enclosed the lower town and the citadel. Schliemann claimed as erroneous the theory of scholars who “. . . thought that, in speaking of the wall, he [Pausanias] meant the wall of the city, and not the great wall of the Acropolis ; and they therefore understood that he fixed the site of the five sepulchres in the lower city, and the site of the tombs of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus outside of it. But such was not his intention, and that he had solely in view the walls of the citadel he shows by saying that they were inside the walls of the Lion Gate.”
Scholars who did not hold with Schliemann’s theory about the location of the tombs were generally agreed that the fortress and lower town of Mycenae had existed for centuries. But few cared enough to search in the earth at the site. The Schliemanns, who did care, received a permit to dig from ministers of Greece, but only after lengthy negotiations.
Permission was given with the provisos that excavation was to be directed by the Greek Archaeological Society, and that all excavated objects were to be the property of the Greek govern ment. To insure that not one artifact or fragment of treasure would be retained by the Schliemanns, a man named Stamatakis was assigned as inspector in constant attendance at Mycenae.
In early February 1874 he accompanied the Schliemanns to the Peloponnesus. That mulberry-shaped, southern part of the Hel-
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lenic mainland was tenuously connected to the north by an umbilical stretch of land little more than a mile wide. The cord, holding together the northern mainland and the Peloponnesus was not severed until the construction of the Corinth Canal was begun in 1881.
Schliemann’s aim was to uncover remains that would distinguish myth from fact in the Mycenaean tales of incest, adultery, vengeance, and murder. His party on horseback rode toward the citadel through a landscape somberly colored from dark to ghostly grays. The citadel’s great wall stood like a threatening sentinel, defying invaders, its cyclopean stones piled by what superhuman strength one on another.
On foot, the silent group made its way to the citadel’s Lion Gate, the entrance blocked by the debris of ages. The lions, with time less regality, stood above the lintel, their forefeet on a carved stone base separated by a Doric column. The kingly lions, symbols of power and feudal control, dominated the relief ; it, carved from one slab of gray limestone, was thought to be the oldest architectural sculpture extant. Seeing the impressive lions for the first time, Sophia wrote : “For how many centuries have these animals stood their silent guard, daring a wanderer to pass through into the realm over which they alone are the custodians?” For decades scholars wrangled over that same question to which she and Heinrich provided the first clues to an answer.
Six years earlier, when Schliemann predicted that five graves would be found close to the Lion Gate but within the citadel walls, his interpretation of Pausanias had been mocked with scholarly invective. After it became known that the Schliemanns were to dig at Mycenae in 1874, an unsigned paragraph appeared in the Times of London:
Schliemann continues to deny the world of intellectuals who have devoted their entire lives to the world of the past. But, let him proceed and prove himself to be but the butt of our amusement Graves will never be found within the citadel walls unless the destroyer of Troy seeds graves during the night.
Unperturbed by the insulting item, Schliemann began the excavations, directing crews that sank the first exploratory shafts just inside the Lion Gate. Work was going forward rapidly when the Turkish lawsuit interrupted operations. Without opportunity to examine any of the thirty-four sunken shafts, the Schliemanns left Mycenae to which they would not return for two years.
Schliemann, requiring a renewal of his permit in 1876, anticipated opposition from Greek officials. He asked for support from no less a personage than the erudite Gladstone. The British Prime Minister wrote on a postal card to Schliemann: “. . . in much haste to say that out of respect for you I have taken the great liberty of writing direct through the P.O. [Foreign Office] to the person you name. I have made known to him all you say. But I must own to you that I have done this with great doubt and embarrassment for I can by no means say what he will think, or whether he may judge himself to have the slightest desire to interfere.”
The person Gladstone meant was the British Ambassador in Athens. Schliemann correctly reasoned that if the British Ambassador were to intercede for him with Greek authorities, they would be receptive; the breach in their relationship with the British government caused by the Dilessi murders was one the Greeks could ill afford and wanted to close by every possible means.
After receiving Gladstone’s note, Schliemann called on the British Ambassador and was told that, in spite of mutual recriminations in the correspondence between Schliemann andGreek ministers, they had granted the permit. It again designated the Greek Archaeological Society as the agency to direct the excavations, and Stamatakis as the ephor who would assure that directions were explicitly followed. Without delay the Schliemanns assembled their paraphernalia and staff, and reached Mycenae on August 7, 1876.
In ancient times the citadel on the Acropolis and the lower town, spread out in the valley, were encircled by a tremendous wall, measured in miles. Within the wall were houses, several treasuries, wells, and the citadel, itself walled. Some ancient remains were already exposed to view when the Schliemanns began their excavations.
The Treasuries were the most interesting remnants of the Mycenaean civilization, and were in fact Tholoi, underground tombs constructed in the shape of beehives. The most famous was the Treasury of Atreus, with an approach down a walkway, 20 feet 7 inches long, flanked by tremendous stones. The 18-foot-high entranceway was topped by two beautifully cut and polished slabs, weighing an estimated 300,000 pounds. The great domed chamber, 50 feet in diameter, resembled a vast beehive. It was constructed skillfully of hewn blocks, placed in regular layers and precisely fitted together without binding material. A doorway to the right of the main entranceway led into a second chamber, dark and square, cut from rough rock.
Immediately upon arrival at Mycenae, Schliemann ordered a crew to clear the approach to the Treasury of Atreus which has since awed millions of travelers. It took eight workmen two weeks to reach the upper part of open triangular space above the door; chopping through soil hard as stone, they often struck huge blocks of rock that impeded progress.
Several crews, comprising forty-three men, started a trench in front of the Lion Gate, an operation temporarily halted by Stamatakis, who reached Mycenae a few days later. He fired off a complaint to the Greek Archaeological Society, accusing the Schliemanns of proceeding without his approval. The suspicious ephor used violent epithets to discredit the Schliemanns, being particularly venomous about Sophia.
Stamatakis, who considered himself to be the assigned partner of Schliemann, resented Heinrich’s consultations with Sophia. She gained the complete loyalty of the work crews, who obeyed all her orders and ignored countercommands by Stamatakis. He not only resented Sophia as colleague to her husband and favorite of the workmen, but could not be reconciled to a Greek woman of her social standing who would labor as she did at the digs.
In his letter of complaint to Athens, Stamatakis asserted that she was an evil influence on her husband and hinted that the aging dreamer could be managed if Madame Schliemann were barred from the excavations. The president of the Society received, along with the report from Stamatakis, a message from Schliemann containing a defense of his capable wife and counter charges against the inspector.
Schliemann and Stamatakis attacked each other in written notes sent to Athens, and in verbal confrontations at Mycenae. Face to face at the ancient site, the two men yelled at each other in fearful argument; Schliemann screamed, the high pitch of his voice raised in anger, and Stamatakis bellowed, the deep sound rumbling up from inside him. Schliemann, though slight, was tough, strong and wiry, conditioned by daily swimming, other
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exercise, and a rigid diet. Physically fearless, he faced up to the hulking Stamatakis, who towered over him. Peasants, attracted by the altercations, frequently gathered around in anticipation of a good fight; but Sophia remained calm, knowing that every argument would end without fisticuffs.
With the grudging consent of Stamatakis, the passageway to the Lion Gate and its aperture were opened. Just inside and to the left there was a chamber that Schliemann took to be an ancient gatehouse. Excavation inside the citadel wall was productive. Workmen turned up bronze objects, small gold pieces, combs and needles ; terra-cotta goblets and figurines, many in animal shapes ; keys, knives, and weapons of metal; and numerous other objects marked with both the swastika and the sauvastika.
Schliemann, following along an excavated water conduit, studied how it had been engineered for efficient use. Beyond reservoirs for water storage, two tombstones were positioned in a direct north-to-south line; both were ornamented with detailed bas-reliefs. One, carved from soft calcareous stone, was worn and ravaged by centuries of time. The other, in good condition, had beautiful rythmic designs of intertwined spirals across its upper section, and a chariot scene on the lower section. A seated warrior, head in profile and chest flat, without perspective, leaned toward a stallion with legs outstretched for running. The charioteer held in his left hand a knob-handled sword, still sheathed, and in his right, a long object more like a lance than reins, although it touched the stallion’s mouth. A naked warrior, running ahead of the stallion, grasped its head with his right hand and clutched a double-edged sword in his left.
An average of 125 workmen dug at the site each day, and debris was carried away in four horse-carts that rattled over the rough terrain from dawn to dusk. Important examples of archaic pottery and innumerable idols were unearthed before workmen dug around other sculptured tombstones marking very simple graves. Schliemann described each find with such scientific pre cision and attention to detail that his diaries proved to be in valuable source material for later archaeologists at Mycenae.
Stamatakis and Schliemann continued their running battle, sending telegrams and letters to the Greek Archaelogoical Society and to Athenian officials. In a progress report, Schliemann ad dressed Valassopoulos : “Your Excellency, I and my wife are
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exposed here to all kinds of hardships, seeing that my life is always in danger, as I stand the whole day in the blazing sun; I pay out four hundred francs every day for the pure love of scholarship and pure love of Greece, in an endeavor to enrich her by the discovery of new worlds for archaeology, by which I shall attract thousands of foreigners to the country.”
Stamatakis complained, not of the blazing sun but of the un reasonably long hours spent at the digs by the Schliemanns at whose side he was required to be. He stated falsely that he was forced to rise at 2 A.M. and remain on his feet throughout the day and into the dark of night.
In early September, Sophia assumed total responsibility for the excavation of a small Treasury near the Lion Gate where she worked with thirty laborers and two horse-carts. The work men had difficulty in removing the hundreds of huge stones that had fallen from the vault’s ceiling, but Sophia, refusing to call on Heinrich, figured out exactly how the work should be done and then directed the workmen in their labors. In spite of the difficulties encountered, Sophia persisted and finally cleared the debris.
That Treasury was less sumptuous than the Treasury of Atreus ; but inside, Sophia and her crew found archaic pottery, the svastika and sauvastika signs, vases decorated with geometrical patterns, and necklaces of large glass beads, white and colored.
Inside the citadel wall, Heinrich was busy directing the clearing of debris from the foundations of an ancient house with a number of parallel corridors and labyrinthian chambers. Sophia came often to watch the unearthing of the house and the progress being made on the graves near the area.
Once while digging, Heinrich found potsherds which, when put together, showed a procession* of warriors in full fighting gear as though about to leave for battle. Much was learned about the prehistoric people from the manner, marching and armor of these men.
The relationship with the ephor deteriorated to such a point that Sophia made a September trip to Athens, where she demanded an interview with Valassopoulos. She advised him that Stamatakis from spite was deliberately delaying the excavation by ruses, diverse and malicious.
Stamatakis was thoroughly angered by instructions from Valas-
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sopoulos to do the assigned job and to cease the petty harassment of the Schliemanns. In answer to the minister, Stamatakis wrote that communication between him and Schliemann had to be through an overseer because the archaeologist would neither acknowledge the presence of Stamatakis nor speak to him. As always, Sophia was his main target. “Would that she had never come here. She is to blame for everything, and I fear all will go on as before.” Although Heinrich was described as dogmatic and obstinate by the ephor, the refrain recurrent in his reports was that things are “even worse because of Madame Schliemann/’
From his point of view, Stamatakis was correct. Sophia, determined that nothing should interfere with Heinrich’s operations, protected him as a lioness does her cub. And he, well aware of her aid, wrote: “. . . the work here is condemned to come to a complete standstill, without you.”
Sophia, a talented mimic, by acting out the exaggerated gestures, the rage, the violent words, and pompous poses of Stamatakis, often managed to relax Heinrich. In the seclusion of their room, she would turn herself into the image of the ephar, going through the irritating incidents of the day past. Her scenes always made Heinrich laugh, and usually ended with husband and wife joining their physical selves in sensual bliss.
At the close of each workday, the Schliemanns and Stamatakis supervised the loading of finds into a cart, which headed for the village of Charvati where the storehouse buildings were. The two Schliemanns and the glowering ephor rode behind, and stood during the unloading. Stamatakis, yawning, scratching, sighing with boredom, stayed with Heinrich and Sophia while they studied, discussed, numbered and catalogued the day’s finds. Ignoring the ephor, who might have been a crude piece of furniture for all they cared, the Schliemanns animatedly talked with each other or, silent, were totally absorbed in the examination of objects.
On October 7 Schliemann received an official request from the Turkish government to hasten to the Troad to meet His Majesty Dom Pedro II of Brazil, a cultivated ruler intensely interested in Schliemann’s discoveries. Over the babbling protest of Stamatakis, Heinrich left Sophia in charge at Mycenae and started for the Hellespont. His Majesty, with the Empress and a large entourage, arrived aboard the steamer Aguila Imperiale in the early morning hours of October 14. Schliemann, no stranger to the amenities of receiving royalty, impressed Dom Pedro by a courtliness that carried no hint of obsequiousness.
While guiding their horses toward Hissarlik, Dom Pedro and Schliemann gave scant attention to others in the party. The man born to a throne and the man born for greatness were deep in discussion of Troy. At Hissarlik, Dom Pedro and Schliemann, talking or in companionable silence, examined the major sections of the digs, then rode off to Bunarbashi. Dom Pedro, after exploring the terrain, said he was more than ever convinced that Schliemann was correct in declaring for Hissarlik as the site of Troy. The Emperor had come to that opinion previously from reading books and articles, not only by Schliemann but also by other authors with both similar and conflicting views.
On the return trip to the Hellespont, the two men talked animatedly about the realization of the dream of a parson’s son from Germany. They spoke in Portuguese, Dom Pedro’s native tongue, which Schliemann used fluently. In warm farewell, Dom Pedro sincerely thanked Schliemann for his hospitality, and accepted with alacrity an invitation to visit the digs at Mycenae.
On October 29 the Emperor and his party arrived at Mycenae. Dom Pedro greeted Heinrich with an affectionate abrazo, and bent low to kiss Sophia’s hand before presenting her to the Empress, who, exhausted from the long and tiring trek, asked if she might rest. Sophia was pleased to accede to her wish, and Heinrich later wrote in his diary: “My joy knew no bounds because my devoted and wonderful Sophithion could accompany us through the citadel and His Majesty could see for himself the divine creature who is my wife.”
No greetings were wasted on Stamatakis, although he was the official representative of the Greek Archaeological Society. His presence, disregarded by the Schliemanns, was barely acknowledged by Dom Pedro, after which the ephor, shifting from one foot to another, remained on the party’s periphery.
Climbing to the Lion Gate, Dom Pedro was moved by the power of the sculpture, and said to Heinrich, “Dr. Schliemann, these timeless animals with all they convey should hereafter form your Coat-of-Arms.” Tears welled in Heinrich’s eyes, and Sophia moved to his side, grasping his hand in her own that shook with pride. “The Emperor attentively examined our excavations, the
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large circle of two parallel rows of tombstones and three straight lines of tombs. He paid particular attention to the pieces of sculpture, and one attracted his attention so much that he lost himself in it for more than half an hour. He conjectured and discussed with me why the parallel tombs should have been made as they were, and on what purpose the area in between might have been used for.”
Schliemann’s innate and keen sense of the dramatic was seldom more clearly emphasized than by the midday meal he gave his distinguished guests. With flair, Schliemann chose to have it served in the depth of the Treasury of Atreus. The Emperor, much feted on his foreign tour, had not previously been enter tained in a subterranean building forty centuries old. The mysterious setting seemed to heighten the animation with which he discussed archaeology with his hosts. The handsome Latin face
of Dom Pedro was mobile as he talked, and Schliemann responded with discussion of work accomplished and the expectations of things yet to be unearthed. The flicker of candles, too weak to
reflect against the smooth surface of the stones of the dome, 50 feet above the table, played over the faces of those around it. Heinrich’s eyes, deep-set, dominated his face in spite of his prominent nose. His expression was intense and intelligent; his statement lucid and lively.
The lackluster Empress seemed to be spellbound by the young Madame Schliemann, who spoke with charming directness. Sophia, becomingly dressed in a full-skirted frock of exquisite material, did not look like the day-laborer she was at Mycenae. Her shining black hair was piled high in a becoming coiffure, and her olive skin glowed with health. She could not have been more gracious or attentive a hostess had she been in her elegant Paris home.
At the conclusion of the successful party in the Treasury, the Emperor insisted on visiting the storehouses at Charvati. The large collection of prehistoric Mycenaean antiquities the Schliemanns had excavated fascinated Dom Pedro, who particularly admired the archaic sculptures and the Mycenaean pottery. After a tour of the quarry at Charvati, the Emperor left for Argos and Nauplia.
On the following day Heinrich and Sophia, standing on the citadel, looked down and saw a company of riders approaching slowly along the rugged trail below. Within minutes a horseman, led up the steep incline to the Acropolis of Mycenae by a running peasant, dismounted and called out to the Schliemanns. It was Dom Pedro, eager for further inspection before he left Greece.
With Dom Pedro’s entourage scattered below, trying to find shaded protection from the hot autumn sun, the Emperor and Schliemann made their way around the excavations. The tall Brazilian wore a dashing hat at a rakish angle ; the wiry Schliemann, a sun helmet pulled down on his forehead. With the Emperor taking long strides and the archaeologist moving with his characteristic floating gait, an effortless walk, the two followed narrow paths and disappeared into tunneled areas. Exacting a promise from Schliemann to forward photographs of certain objects to Cairo, Dom Pedro reluctantly left for Athens.
Two years later, when Schliemann’s Mycenae was published, it contained a preface by William E. Gladstone, British Prime Minister, and was dedicated to Dom Pedro II with the profound respect of the author.
But the October day when Schliemann bade goodbye to his royal guest was not to be the end of their immediate contact. As the Emperor passed through Nauplia on his way to Athens, he gave a tip to the Chief of Police for his courtesy to the Emperor and his entourage during their stay. Stamatakis, seething with fury at having been pushed into the background, seized on the incident to make trouble for Schliemann. The ephor immediately reported to Athens that bribes of large amounts had been given to the Chief of Police, one being passed to him from Schliemann through Dom Pedro. The fantastic accusation sent Heinrich into one of his Olympian rages.
No less eager to clear the Chief of Police at Nauplia than to expose the prevaricating Stamatakis, Schliemann sent a cable to Dom Pedro, then in Constantinople, giving him brief details of the bribery charge and asking for a statement of the purpose of the money given to the Chief of Police, and the amount offered. Dom Pedro settled the matter, and the Chief of Police was exonerated.
Stamatakis was bested, but Schliemann wished that he “could place the devil Stamatakis in a grave shaft and cover him for eternity.” Unfortunately for Sophia and Heinrich, Stamatakis lived on and remained at Mycenae.
NINETEEN
At Mycenae, in November 1876, Sophia and Heinrich dug alone, without either crews or Stamatakis. The ephor, slow thinking, had at last worked out a system that relieved him of constant supervisory duties and freed him from standing around in the cold throughout the day. He had placed a cordon of guards around the citadel to make certain that neither Sophia nor Heinrich slipped away from the digs carrying excavated objects.
The arrangement pleased the Schliemanns, who could work rapidly when uninterrupted by the dour-faced ephor. Digging to the right of the Lion Gate, they found two tombstones, undecorated, and a tomb filled with natural earth brought from another place. That distinction was made without the aid of scientific instruments by Heinrich, who, keenly observant, noted the difference between the earth in the tomb and the soil of the citadel.
Beyond the earth-filled grave, the Schliemanns excavated a tombstone and tombstone fragments* jn an area since called the great grave circle. Working with intensity, but much more slowly than at Troy, Sophia and Heinrich unearthed, from five tombs, skeletons and fabulous gold objects that were only a small part of the Mycenaean collection.
The fourth tomb yielded twenty bronze swords, numerous knees, a copper vessel filled with gold buttons, and a silver cow’s head with two long gold horns and a sun, more than 2 inches in diameter, centered in the forehead. The skulls of five bodies in the fourth tomb were in such a state of decomposition that nothing could be done to preserve the crumbling bone remnants. Two of the skeletons, with heads toward the north, had large face masks of gold plate, and all five skeletons were blanketed in jewelry.
Two gold signet rings fascinated the Schliemanns who “. . . to gether spent many, many hours looking at these two delicate rings, studying them for the pure joy of their beauty/’ The workmanship of the intaglio design of one ring was typical of both.
The scene on the one represented a hunter in a chariot with two spirited and straining stallions in front ; no visible straps attached them to the chariot. The bushy tails and bodies of the animals were delineated as equine, but the heads bore a stronger resemblance to camels than to horses. In a number of written statements, Schliemann referred to the intaglio designs of the rings as “non objective.” “The scenes on the intaglio signet rings have tremendous force and power. They evoke from the viewer a complete sense of reality; nevertheless, the carving is non objective in detail/’
The design of another ring, a gold seal, was representational, showing a palm tree, four women, a child, a double axe and, along the right border, a design of six objects, strange in form, like helmeted heads and eyes. The ring was important as a comparative object: A tall seated woman had noble Grecian features like those carved on figures of the Parthenon; the double axes were identical with those found on metals in other parts of Greece and in Asia Minor ; the figure holding a long staff or lance probably was Pallas Athena, whose image was for ages unchanged. After studying that figure, Schliemann wrote: “This rudely represented woman in the presence of the splendidly dressed women
can in my opinion be nothing else than a Palladium … of a very ancient and primitive type. . . .” The border forms strongly resembled Trojan idols found at Hissarlik, which, when discovered, were also thought to be Palladia, statuettes of Pallas Athena. There was also close similarity between the six forms and the helmeted Pallas Athena, as she appeared on Corinthian coins of the 4th century B.C.
From the opening of the first treasure tomb, in December 1876, Heinrich and Sophia dug for forty-five days in the grave circle, using only small shovels, penknives and fingers. Delicate handling was essential to the preservation of skeletal remains and of many of the objects, which were incredibly fragile. Sophia, working almost exclusively with a penknife, sat on the cold ground shivering as she patiently cut around objects with fingers trembling inside thin gloves, the only kind she could wear for the tedious task.
The finds compensated for every back-breaking, miserable minute spent in the great grave circle. There were gold diadems and masks of incredible beauty and immeasurable archaeological importance. And terra-cotta, stone and gold vases ; large goblets, silver and gold ; gold drinking cups and silver flagons ; a stag of silver and lead alloy ; gold shoulder belts ; pins, clasps and brooches of silver and gold; amber bead necklaces; a three-handled alabaster vase; bone lids for jars; copper spears; wooden buttons covered with highly ornamented gold veneer; 118 gold buttons
with intaglio work of 15 separate designs; models of temples and statuettes of gods in gold, silver and ivory; a gold cuttlefish; gold knobs for sword handles; gold, silver and copper pots; copper, bronze and terra-cotta tripods; metal lances; and two-edged bronze swords with alabaster handles. The sauvastika symbol ornamented many objects. The treasure of Troy, magnificent as it was, paled in comparison with the treasure of Mycenae, excavated, not in a few hours but over a period of nearly seven weeks.
Fifteen gold diadems were taken from the second tomb, which contained only three graves. Each of the three skeletons had five diadems of thin gold plate. All showed the same repousse ornamentation of thin lines separated by a row of triple concentric circles that increased or decreased according to the breadth of the diadem, the largest circles being in the center. Many other pieces of jewelry and small gold objects were taken from the three graves, and the glitter of the collection was almost blinding.
Ashes on the tombs indicated that funeral pyres had topped the graves after the burial of the dead. In the second, third and fourth tombs, the bodies with their gold ornamentation had been covered with a three-inch layer of white clay and a thinner protective layer of pebbles.
The first tomb uncovered was the last to be fully excavated ; in it there were three male skeletons, all with their heads to the west, lying about three feet from each other. The most important tomb of the five, it alone showed unmistakable signs of grave robbery. Ashes covering the center skeleton had been disturbed, and no ornaments were found on the body or around it. Schliemann, commenting on the condition of that one grave, stated, “Most likely someone sank a shaft to examine the tomb, struck the central body, plundered it recklessly, and for fear of being detected carried off the booty in such a hurry that he thought of saving only the large massive gold ornaments, such as the mask, the large
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breast cover, the diadems and bronze sword, and remounting to the surface.” Silver and gold buttons and other little objects scattered on the earth covering the other bodies indicated that the grave robber might have dropped small treasures during his escape.
Since the three skeletons were large-boned and long, it seemed that the bodies must have been forcibly squeezed into the small space of only 5 feet 6 inches left for them between the inner walls of the tomb. The head of the first man was covered with a massive gold mask, and its removal caused the skull to crumble when exposed to the air ; the skull of the body in the plundered grave also disintegrated on contact with air.
The third body, at the north end of the tomb, had a round face with flesh well preserved under a gold mask. There was no vestige of hair and the nose was gone, but both eyes were intact as was the wide-open mouth with thirty-two perfect teeth. Schliemann hoped that the body could be kept in its condition long enough for medical examination; but, failing that, he was determined to have the figure in the tomb reproduced in an oil painting, and sent for an artist to come at once. The news that the skeleton of some hero of an ancient age was on view at Mycenae spread throughout the countryside, and peasants from miles around came to see it. On the second day after its discovery, Spiridon Nicolau, a pharmacist from Argos, arrived at the citadel and, with permission, hardened the body with a mixture of gum sandarac dissolved in afcohol. Schliemann had a small trench cut into the
rock and, by horizontal incision, removed the skeleton from its tomb in a 2-inch-thick slab. The skeleton was shipped from Charvati to the Greek Archaeological Society in Athens. Physicians who later studied the skeleton confirmed it as masculine, and estimated that the man was thirty-five years old at the time of death.
No find at Mycenae created more interest than the glorious gold object that Schliemann called the Mask of Agamemnon. The bearded noble face of the mask had an intelligent expression, and the hooded eyes seemed real. The romantic Schliemann wanted to believe that the three graves in the first tomb were those of King Agamemnon and his two companions, murdered by the treacherous Clytemnestra and her lascivious lover Aegisthus.
Schliemann relinquished that theory when later evidence proved that the gold mask had not been made during the time when Agamemnon lived.
Schliemann, in a telegram to King George I of Greece, stated that according to the tradition following Pausanias, the tombs were those of Agamemnon, Cassandra, Eurymedon and their comrades, as well as the tombs of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. His Majesty was assured by Schliemann that the treasures, be longing to the Greek government, would attract strangers from many countries. He stated, too, that his work had been for the pure love of science and not for the purpose of finding gold, as so many of his detractors claimed. That accusation, which persisted long past Schliemann’s lifetime, is not supported by ranking archaeologists today.
Contemporary archaeologists, reassessing Schliemann’s accomplishments, are certain that he was motivated by a passionate desire to uncover past history and to realize his dream of discovering Troy. His success there led him to Mycenae and to other locations for excavation. Nowhere in diaries, letters or published works did Schliemann state or imply that he sought gold. He did reiterate that he had to make a large fortune with which to support his work. He found gold, but the gold finds at Troy and Mycenae were fractional to the total number of objects on which Schliemann based his deductions about those two sites.
Scholars of his own time resented the fact that most journalists in 1876 reported principally on the gold finds when printing stories about Schliemann’s telegram to King George. Archaeologists of subsequent decades stressed the historical value, not the monetary worth, of Schliemann’s contributions as the father of modern archaeology. The late Professor D. Papadimitriou, chief of archaeology for the Greek government, stated: “When Schliemann made his discoveries, newspapers headlined the discovery of gold. This was natural, because more laymen are interested in gold than in bits of broken pots and inscriptions. This is true of contemporary popular writers who fasten on to the
glamor of gold, and, without conscience, ascribe to Schliemann a total motivation as a gold seeker.”
King George, through his secretary, A. Calinkis, answered Schliemann’s telegram : “I have the honor to inform you that His
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Majesty the King has received your dispatch, and has quickly charged me to thank you for your zeal and your love of science and to felicitate you on your important discoveries, and His Majesty hopes that your efforts will be always followed by more happy successes.”
Disgruntled scholars in cloistered studies muttered about Schliemann’s luck but Schliemann’ s great finds simply proved the old saying that “luck comes only to those well prepared.” At Mycenae, as at Troy, Schliemann searched for evidence of early civilizations ; and treasure, an inevitable adjunct to a flourishing culture, was but one proof of its existence and high rank.
A success that was bitter for Schliemann to accept was achieved at Mycenae in January 1877. Lieutenant Vasilios Drosinos, the engineer who had worked with Schliemann at Mycenae, went there from Nauplia on January 20 to do some work for Schliemann. Close to the house where Heinrich himself had excavated, Drosinos noticed masonry similar to that of the large tombs. Returning to Nauplia, he ran into the ephor, Stamatakis, who was en route to Mycenae to arrange for the construction of a wooden hut for watchmen. Stamatakis, learning of the precise location of the unexcavated tomb, went to it and instructed a workman, who struck gold with the first or second blow of the pickaxe, according to Schliemann. In a short time, Stamatakis had as sembled a considerable treasure from a section of the digs not more than a few feet from where Schliemann previously had excavated. He stated in writing that Drosinos had been quite correct in his identification of the masonry, and in passing on the information to Stamatakis. But both Sophia and Heinrich must have had many anguished thoughts about the ephor^s success. They had been within a few feet of an important archaeological find made by the man with whom they had so long been in conflict.
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