The Modern Athens 30

The Modern Athens 30

Society is indeed, as it were, reversed in the Athens; the men of the

law give their evenings to Bacchus; those who are called philosophers,

give theirs to butterflies; the ladies associate for the purposes of

gossipping; and the gentlemen, with praise-worthy gallantry, assist the

ladies; while the artizans pursue literature, and study philosophy.

Thus, although there be more both of the one and the other in the

Athens, than one would at first sight suppose, the supposition is

excusable because they are not to be found where one would first and

most naturally seek for them.

 

But if these habits make the labouring classes in the Athens more

intelligent and delightful as a people than the same classes are in

England, they render them as much more dangerous as a mob. It is true,

that any demagogue cannot lead them to any mischief for any cause that

he pleases, as is but too often the case with a less informed and

reflective population. But if they are not to be collected or set

on by every casual breath, it is not every casual breath that will

make them disperse, or make them desist from their purpose. They have

repeatedly--indeed upon every occasion where they have been aroused and

brought together, evinced an union and organization which, with arms

and perseverance, would have made them formidable to a large military

force; and they have kept their plans so secret, and executed their

purposes with so much promptitude and skill, that the whole of the

legal and local authorities, in the joint exercise of their wisdom and

their fears, have not been enabled to penetrate the one or prevent the

other. “The Porteus” mob is universally known; and a gentleman who was

an eye-witness gave me such an account of a minor one, both in its

object and in its mischief, that occurred upon the result of the late

Queen Caroline’s trial, as convinced me that their skill and their

spirit have not yet abated.

 

The populace of the Athens, as well as of most other places, resolved

upon having a general illumination, when the result of that trial was

made known. I do not say this was right, neither do I say that it

was wrong; but it was the will and the wish of the people, and they

did it. The official part of the Athenians were of course against

the measure, on political grounds; and a very large proportion of

the superior classes disliked it, either because they had doubts of

its propriety, or because they disliked the expense and trouble.

Disturbances were apprehended, and the authorities took what they

were pleased to call “vigorous measures:” they gave plenary power to

Archy Campbell,--armed deacon Knox with a great bludgeon,--supported

the constabulary with staves,--hung bayonets and cartouch-boxes

across the shoulders of the writers clerks,--stuck swords behind the

sheriff and advocates-depute,--sent for the Lothian farmers and their

cart-horses,--collected the military detachments,--shotted the guns of

the Castle, and lighted the linstocks,--dined, and put in the internal

armour of divers bottles of wine a-stomach,--and then bolting as many

doors upon themselves as ever they could, sat down to wonder and wait

for the issue. After preparations so extensive in their nature, and

so profound in their organization, one would naturally have supposed

that not so much as a rebellious candle would have been lighted, or an

Athenian lamp broken. But this was by no means the case.

 

My informant, who had just arrived from Glasgow, where a similar scene

had been performed on the preceding evening, with much credit to the

military, some little to the magistrates, and no positive disgrace to

the people, was induced, by the unusual radiance that he observed in

the street, to walk out and see what was the matter, or rather how the

matter was. He passed along Princes Street, which exhibited nearly the

same number of candles, and the same taste in transparent paintings

that are usual upon other grease-burning and gauze-daubing occasions;

but the street itself was unusually quiet, and free of people. As he

stood gazing at a window opposite the earthen mound, in the decoration

of which some painter had been peculiarly happy in absurdity, a

stranger took him by the arm, and requested him to go to the other

side of the street, as where he stood he was by no means safe. He

hesitated, alleging that he heard nothing. “But it is coming,” said the

stranger, “and the more silent it is the less safe.” They crossed the

street together; and my informant looking towards the other end of the

mound, observed that the lamps were extinguished one by one, and though

not a tongue was heard, there was a heavy and hurried tread as of a

dense crowd rapidly approaching. It came, filling the whole breadth,

and about half the length of the mound. In the front were borne two

transparencies, rendered barely visible by dull blue lights behind.

On each flank were treble lines of men, armed with stakes, which they

had torn from a paling; and the whole square, of which they formed two

sides, was as thick in its composition and as regular and rapid in

its march as the Macedonian phalanx. This thick phalanx moved along

some of the principal streets: when a voice in one key called out one

set of numbers, a shower of missiles instantly demolished every pane

in the windows; and when a voice in another key called out another

set of numbers, not a stone was thrown. This mass of people passed

along the streets, and performed its quantity of mischief with the

silence and rapidity of a destroying angel; and when it had wreaked a

double portion of violence upon the dwelling of the Lord Provost, it

melted away nobody knew how, where, or by what agency. Meanwhile, the

alarm had been given to the powers and protectors; but when they came

to read the riot act, and scatter the spoilers, there remained none

to hear, but shattered houses and frightened inmates, and nothing to

scatter, except fragments of glass. Fortunately, the mischief was not

very great; but the manner in which it was done was enough to show the

superior tactics, and consequently superior danger of an Athenian mob.

 

It is not, however, the education of politicians, of professional

men, or of the populace, which constitutes that peculiar course of

discipline which deserves to be designated, as “the education of the

Athens.” That education is a training of the manners more than of

the mind,--an initiation into the practices of life, rather than the

principles of any art, or of any science. Most species of education

imply some sort of restraint; but the Athenian education is chiefly

taken up with removing the restraints that have been imposed in other

places, and by other systems; and the rapidity with which students make

proficiency in it is without parallel in any of the ordinary schools

or colleges. A mere boy shall come from the remotest glen or island

of Scotland, as timid as a hare, as modest as a maiden, and as honest

as a man of five feet in a mill-stone quarry; and yet, astonishing to

tell! three little months, sometimes three little weeks, of Athenian

tuition, shall make him a perfect adept in all the theory, and an

expert proficient in all the practice of the Athenian mysteries. No

where else, indeed, can young men be thus educated at so early an

age; and it is the boast of the Athens, that she frees the youth of

Scotland of more of their antiquated notions and narrow prejudices

than they could get rid of even in London itself. The number of young

men who resort annually to the Athens as students in the college, and

under the private lecturers in the different departments of medical

science--who, as I have said, are now in a great measure eclipsing and

supplanting the college professors, together with the still greater

number who throng to the offices of the men of law, form a separate and

unguardianed and unguarded society of youths, greater in proportion to

the whole population than is to be found in any other British city.

They meet with those of but a year’s longer standing, and these meet

those of but another year, and so on, till the total take in every

lesson-abhorring student, and every quill-driving clerk, to the amount

of some thousands,--all of them furnished with at least moderate means

of supporting themselves, and without the slightest check or control

as to how those means shall be expended. The studies of the law-clerks

are of an exceedingly dry description, and those of the other students

are not very different. The infant scribes are set loose at an early

hour in the evening, and as the professors in the Athens are said to

be far more strict in looking after their own fees than after the

attendance of the students, the whole of this mass of young persons

are left to govern themselves and each other for nearly the half of

every day in the week, and almost the whole of Saturday and Sunday.

Athenian apprentices to the law are seldom lodged in the families of

their masters; and it is a rare thing indeed for an Athenian student

to be boarded with his professor. Hence, both classes are allowed to

help each other in the formation of their habits, without any control

from the more experienced part of society. It is the interest of the

lodging-house-keepers, with whom the greater part of them reside, that

their juvenile frolics should not come to the ears of their relations;

and therefore each is allowed to indulge himself as he pleases, and the

only measure of indulgence is the purse.

 

While this mode of life holds out facilities for indiscretions which

the greater activity and occupation of even a mercantile city prevent,

the great numbers take off the shame of individual transactions, and

give a fashion and eclât to what would no where else be tolerated.

Youths of no great advance in life have their nightly drinking-bouts,

and boys, in the first year of their studies or apprenticeships, have

their occasional carousals in ale-houses suited to the state of their

funds. As the greater number of young men in the Athens, setting

aside the working classes, whose conduct is very different, are of

this description, perhaps they stamp upon the whole place much of its

character; and, especially in the several professions connected with

the law, they in all probability stamp the greater part of it.

 

The results are just what might be expected. There is no place that

I visited where both the manners and the morals of young persons

are so free; and, with a greater partiality for the bottle, and a

greater proneness to all its consequences, there is perhaps less moral

feeling, and a less clear perception either of intellectual or of moral

truth, among young men who have passed through the several stages of

an Athenian education, than among those who have had their novitiate

any where else. Too young for reflection, and too much exposed to

temptation for study, their minds become as desultory as their manners

are dissipated; and while yet they hardly know any thing, they are

prompt in their decision of every thing; and having once found that it

is easier, and gives more notoriety to decide without thinking, than to

think without deciding, they become as dogmatical in speech as they are

shallow in knowledge, and raw in experience.

 

The force of ardent and inexperienced passions, just set loose from

paternal restraint, the force of every day’s example, the force of

ridicule, and frequently also the force of direct compulsion, all

conspire to drive every young man who goes to reside in the Athens

into these courses, and to keep him in them as long as he continues

to reside in the Athens; and be it for study or for business, the

novitiate is in ordinary cases sufficiently long to stamp the character

for life. Accordingly it has been remarked, that though young men who

profited by a regular course of Athenian study, be often very showy

and frequently very jovial as companions, they are not very pre-eminent