The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-02-05

it is-little modern Greek village, with
one fairly decent inn, or pub. Of softS,
down at the foot of the hill, n
then the ancient Acropolis at the TOP:
George. It was called the Grand Hotel
de IIliade ct de Venizelos, and 1t
had eight rooms in it, which was pal
atial for that part of the world. you
took your bath, when or If you dld,
in a tin tub that was brought IN TO
you by, Helen, but as there was sell
dom any hot water, and occasionally
no water at all, we didn't overindulge.
The food was pretty good Of its kind,
and there was plenty of Greek wine
and mastika, so we considered our
selves to be living well. And we were,
too, for the time and place-that was,
become such a pampered species.
The retired grave robber had two
children, a boy named Agamemnon
and a girl named Helen. I don't think
old George was very familiar with
his Homer, and it never seemed to
bother him that the original Agamem.
non and Helen were not brother and
fitted in well with the general idea
of Mycenae, so he bestowed them on
his children. Agamemnon was a sturdy
little fellow, who started to work early
on the dig, carrying baskets of earth
for the Germans. But Helen-ah!
I must be very careful not to over
state my case about Helen, but I as
sure you, speaking with due restraint,
full objects, animate or inanimate,
that I had ever seen. She had the
pure Greek type of the classic age,
with a nose and brow modelled as in
fifth century sculpture. Her eyes were
deep and dark, her mouth full and
slightly resentful-the effect you get
lean era. Her body was straight and
strong, developed but not heavy, and
her movements, her posture, gave it
wonderful grace. Helen was already,
when I first saw her, a lovely thing
to look at-and then she was only
ten years old. I watched her grow,
marvel. I used to go to Mycenae every
year then, and the budding and bloom
ing Of Helen-forgive me if I adopt
your own romantical sort of language
was one of the most memorable
things I ever saw there.
Now, of course, you all know that
these antique beauties are not rare
IN Greece: Among the peasants in the
up every now and then, both in the
male and in the female. But Helen
was something quite special, some
thing one hadn't seen before in living
flesh, something that instantly sug-
gested Parian marble, temples, the
p;1etIy Of ba Homer IHa I suppose it was vas
classic type, by one of these fairly
usual throwbacks, but possessed it
with a particular beauty and COM
pleteness of her own. Anyhow, there
she was, a Homeric beauty, a figure
straight out Of the golden age of gods
and heroes, dwelling among the ruins
Of the ruins-of the very city of
A~gamemnon.
You can easily imagine what hap
pened to the German psychologists
who used to be SO thick at Mycenae in
the old days: They were a sentimental
and romantic lot, who could quote
so much as a nice bit Of moonlight on
a ruined arch. Specialized and bearded
and preter-naturally learned, they
used to perch little Helen on their
knees before she was 10 years old and
teach her lines of ancient poetry. They
taught it to her in their own pro-
nothing like the language of the an
clients. was at least more varied and
more correct than modern Greek. One
of the first things the child learned
was to make the aspirate sound and
thus to pronounce her own name.
Helen" she said quite clearly, and
never Ellen" as the modern Greeks
say it. I remember so well the first
time I v saw her. She wa a very
young goddess then, and she answered
the shouts by which the traveller in
her fathers inn call for hot water or
drinks. I had yelled down over the
balcony rail into the little courtyard
for some water. It was brought to me
by the bare-legged daughter of the
house, silent and dark eyed, with her