Delighted to add P.M. Iannetta’s choice of Ios for our ‘Reading The Cyclades’ project, marking the 140th (1885-2025) anniversary of Theodore Bent’s classic The Cyclades, or Life Among the InsularGreeks. If you want to join in, just Messenger us! (photo credits: see link)
Ios [Bent’s Ch. 7: Wednesday 23 January 1884 – Sunday 27 January 1884]
P.M. Iannetta; Ios harbour in the 1930s (after Liddell 1954); Ekaterina Lorenziadis’ costume (National Historical Museum, Athens); Ios, the Chora today (Joshua Doubek: Wikipedia).
English language teacher and island-hopper P.M. Iannetta narrates the Bents’ landing on Ios – ‘Little Malta’ – and their first impressions of the main town. We meet mayor Lorenziadis and his family and are treated to a fashion show by his daughter Ekaterina – the dress she is modelling is now on display at the National Historical Museum, Athens.
Map and title page of Bent’s bestseller on the Cyclades (1885) (archive.org).
“The Islands of the Aegean Sea offer plenty of scope for the study of Hellenic archaeology, but they are more particularly rich in the preservation of manners and customs which have survived the lapse of years, and the result of a special study of both these points, made during two winters passed by my wife and myself amongst the islanders, in their distant hamlets, and in their towns by the sea-coast, I here place before the public.” (From Bent’s Preface, page v) note 1
“… Mr. Theodore Bent’s excellent book on the ‘Cyclades’, the only recent book which is really serviceable to teach ordinary readers the details of the subject.” (Prof. Sir John Pentland Mahaffy, Irish classicist, in Good Words, 1888: Vol. 29, 305 ff.)
Detail from a raised-relief map of Greece (Glyn Griffiths 2024).
Theodore Bent’s evergreen (ever-blue perhaps?) account of two winters happily spent island-hopping in the Greek Cyclades was published on 28 February 1885 in London by Longman, Green and Co. The Cyclades, or Life Among the Insular Greeks was the first such travelogue to appear in English and to this day features regularly in the bibliographies of those writing about these iconic islands.
Reviews spanning the century:
“Mr. Bent’s book deserves all success, for it is the result of researches pursued in the most laudable manner. When an educated man selects for his field of observation an interesting and little-explored area of country, and, after learning the language, spends a considerable part of two winters there, living among all classes of people so as to familiarise himself with the details of their life, and to become intimately acquainted with their ideas and modes of thought, he deserves the title of an enthusiastic investigator.” Academy 27, Jan/June 1885, p. 322.
“It is the classic of Aegean travel in English and will never be superseded, for one good reason that Bent was lucky enough to visit the islands when they were still, as it were, intact and only just waking out of the sleep of centuries.” Ernle Bradford, The Companion Guide to the Greek Islands (1983, Collins, London, p. 156).
“James Theodore Bent (1852-1897), author of The Cyclades (London, 1885), much the most valuable book on the Aegean.” (Robert Liddell, Aegean Greece, London, 1954, p.107, n.1)
“Seriphos and Siphnos sound like Heavenly Twins, and are very similar in size and scope. Kimolos and Sikinos are hard to visit, and harder to escape from… frankly it is not worth the trouble to do so, unless you are as determined and thorough about your Aegean as old Theodore Bent – who wrote the real classic on the area.” (Lawrence Durrell, The Greek Islands, London, 1980, p.254)
Reading The Cyclades
As an audiobook of The Cyclades has yet to appear, to mark its 140th anniversary (2025) we have asked ‘Cycladists’, those with affinities to the islands, to read memorable extracts from Bent’s guide for us.
The order of appearance is in accordance with how Bent sequenced them, not as the couple actually visited them – for this you need to see the diary of his wife, Mabel, for the winter of 1883/4. The dates given, where possible, of when they made their visits are from this diary – and not always reliable. The Bents’ first winter in the area, 1882/3, is unchronicled by Mabel, seeming to have been limited to a few Easter weeks, taking in Tinos and Amorgos. The diarist notes on their return to London in the Spring of 1884 that “though we like good food and beds and ease and comfort as well as others, we think the pleasure we have had quite pays for all the pains”. (The Travel Chronicles of Mrs J. Theodore Bent, Vol. 1, Oxford, 2006, p. 61)
The tsabouna played by Yannis Pantazis of Santorini.
Most readings begin with a short melody on the island bagpipes (tsabouna) played by Yannis Pantazis of Santorini. The Bents would have been very familiar with this sound, even acquiring their own instrument (now in the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford).
So, πάμε, click on an audio file below to transport yourself to the Bents’ Cyclades as they found them in 1883/4 (zoom out on the map below to slowly reveal the islands). Further reader contributions will be added, of course, as they sail in, σιγά-σιγά! note 2
(All rights remain with the individual readers, 2025-)
The Readings
Introduction and Bent’s Preface (pp. v-viii), dated November 1884
An introduction to ‘Reading “The Cyclades”‘, followed by Bent’s Preface to the first edition, providing a little background and his main objectives in visiting the islands over the course of two winters…
Serifos [Bent’s Ch. 1: Saturday 1st December – Tuesday 4th December 1883]
“The Church of St. Athanasius was worth seeing, being round with two little apses. It has a lovely iconostasis… carved in wood, with vine tendrils, and festoons, and niches for twenty eikons…” Metropolitan Church of Agios Athanasios, Ano Chora, Serifos (C. Messier, Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 4.0).
After a short stay on Syros, Siphnos was the first island the couple visited on their second winter tour, with Bent also choosing to begin his travelogue here. This ‘very pretty island’, as Mabel calls it, still makes the perfect overture to Bent’s Cycladic idyll, introducing us to all the themes that reappear throughout his work – ‘Zorba’-like characters, myths and legends, food and drink, custom and costume, antiquities, the ups and downs of travel, everyday life ‘among insular Greeks’ indeed… Our first reader is Elizabeth Boleman-Herring, author, inter alia, of The Aegean Islands Insight Pocket Guide: Mykonos and Santorini, publishing-editor of Weekly Hubris, and Cycladophile.
Melos [Bent’s Ch. 4: Saturday 15th December – Friday 21 December 1883]
View of the ancient theatre of Melos (330 x 558 mm, graphite, pen and ink, and watercolour) by James Skene, c. 1841 (CC Trustees of the British Museum (asset number 1280633001)).
Anafi [Bent’s Ch. 5: Wednesday, 9 January 1884 – Friday, January 11 1884 or Saturday, 12 January 1884]
A photo from the early 1940s giving some idea of what Anafi’s harbour jetty might have looked like 100 years after the Bents sailed from the island (Margaret Kenna).
Bent’s entire chapter read by social anthropologist and Anafi specialist Margaret Kenna (Professor Emerita, Swansea University), who has spent 50 years researching in Greece, most of it focussed on the islanders and migrants of Anafi, spending a year on the island doing fieldwork for her doctorate in 1966 (Greek Island Life: Fieldwork on Anafi, Sean Kingston Publishing, 2017).
Santorini [Bent’s Ch. 6: Monday 7th January – Wednesday 23 January 1884]
Travel writer Jennifer Barclay reads the Bents on Santorini (photo = Ian smith).
Travel writer and Tilos resident Jennifer Barclay first got to know the Bents a few years back when they went with her some of the way on her breezy Dodecanese travelogue Wild Abandon (Bradt Guides 2020); she wrote an article for us about the adventure too (In the Footsteps of Theodore and Mabel). Needless to say, we’re now very happy she has agreed to sail a little west from Tilos into the Cyclades to read a few of her favourite extracts from Bent’s visit to Santorini (no introduction required there, of course), where she spent a summer in the early 1990s. And if you think you can hear cicadas in the background now and then, you can; Jennifer has her window open as she reads…
Ios [Bent’s Ch. 7: Wednesday 23 January – Sunday 27 January 1884]
P.M. Iannetta; Ios harbour in the 1930s (after Liddell 1954); Ekaterina Lorenziadis’ costume (National Historical Museum, Athens); Ios, the Chora today (Joshua Doubek: Wikipedia).
English language teacher and island-hopper P.M. Iannetta narrates the Bents’ landing on Ios – ‘Little Malta’ – and their first impressions of the main town. We meet mayor Lorenziadis and his family and are treated to a fashion show by his daughter Ekaterina – the dress she is modelling is now on display at the National Historical Museum, Athens.
Delos [from Bent’s Ch. 10, Mykonos (as ‘Note II – The Excavations at Delos’): Saturday, 1 March 1884]
Delos – bases and monuments north of Theophrastos’ Agora, the ‘Hypostyle Hall’, photographed in 1908, i.e. 25 years or so only after the Bents’ visit. The photographer is unknown (CC Archimage).
Rather like today’s tourists, the Bents spent a day on Delos, legendary birthplace of Apollo and Artemis, at the end of their visit to Mykonos. Then as now, excavations on this island, the heart of the Cyclades, are under the aegis of L’École Française D’Athènes in coordination with the Greek State. Bent, of course, finds the remains tantalising. His archaeological thoughts are read by Catherine Bouras, Secrétaire de rédaction pour La Chronique des fouilles en ligne, l’EFA.
Naxos [Bent’s Ch. 14: Sunday, 23 December 1883 – Monday, 7 January 1884]
Portara, the large portal of the Sanctuary of Delian Apollo, Naxos (C. Messier, Wikipedia).
An early extract from Bent’s chapter on Naxos (‘The Town of Naxia’), where the couple spend Christmas, 1883. The passage – referencing the famous islet off the main town and its trademark temple remains that still salute every arrival by sea – is read by our friend the cartographer Glyn Griffiths, who has kindly provided many maps for our website and publications over the last twenty years, and for whose work we are most happy to thank here.
Revis Cruttenden, “Island Chapel” (detail, 2010, oil on board, 35.5 x 20.5).
A second extract from Bent’s Naxos chapter (‘In the Mountains of Naxos’) takes us inland and up into the mountains by paths still traceable among the picture-book villages of the interior region of Potamia. It is read by garden-designer/artist Revis Cruttenden, Cycladic traveller and erstwhile Mani resident. (Mabel’s diary gives the date of the rainy mule ride as 29 December 1883.)
notes
Note 1: In terms of contemporary English visitors (tourists) to the region, Bent would have found little in the way of popular literature. There exists a superficial, anonymous, article that he most probably would have read, written by a young male(?) traveller who decided to make a short sail from Athens in February 1880, ‘to woo the sea breezes among the Cyclades’. His tour takes in Syros, Tinos, Delos, Naxos, Paros, and Antiparos. On Tinos he makes reference to the famous annual pilgrimage – an event that draws Bent there in the spring of 1883. The article, barely recommendable, is A Cruise in Greek Waters (The St. James’s Magazine and United Empire Review, v.39 (12) JY-D (1880), pp.39-46). Curiously, its title is identical to the earlier (1870) travelogue by the affable maverick Frederick Trench Townshend. This is well worth the trouble of finding, although the Cyclades are not included. Return from Note 1
Note 2: More readings will be added as and when they appear. For details of how to participate, contact info[at]thebentarchive[dot]com Return from Note 2
While we wait for an audiobook of Theodore Bent’s “The Cyclades, or Life Among the InsularGreeks“, to mark its 140th anniversary (2025) we are asking ‘Cycladists’, those with affinities to the islands, to read memorable extracts for us.
Santorini [Bent’s Ch. 6: Monday 7 January – Wednesday 23 January 1884]
Travel writer Jennifer Barclay reads the Bents on Santorini (photo = Ian smith).
Travel writer and Tilos resident Jennifer Barclay first got to know the Bents a few years back when they went with her some of the way on her breezy Dodecanese travelogue Wild Abandon (Bradt Guides 2020); she wrote an article for us about the adventure too (In the Footsteps of Theodore and Mabel). Needless to say, we’re now very happy she has sailed a little west for us, from Tilos, into the Cyclades to read a few of her favourite extracts from Bent’s visit to awe-inspiring Santorini (no introduction required there, of course), where she spent a summer in the early 1990s. And if you think you can hear cicadas in the background now and then, you can; Jennifer has her window open as she reads…
For an accompanying slideshow, click the start ikon below:
Title page from the first edition (1885) of Bent’s “The Cyclades; or Life Among the Insular Greeks”.
“Though Mr. Bent is an Oxford man, he knows some Greek, and has managed somehow to retain or acquire a profound interest in things Hellenic. That is always something, for Greece is a country towards which, in spite of our education, we all possess somewhat of a filial affection: but Mr. Bent does more than this – he takes an active interest in the living Greeks, his ways and modes of thinking, largely tempered by the modern anthropological and sociological point of view, too often wholly wanting or absolutely repellent to the confirmed Hellenist. If there is one form of savant left on earth upon whose ears the echo of the sociological revolution falls dull and muffled, it is your old-fashioned classical scholar, hermetically sealed in his own sturdy with his grammar and his lexicon, his editions and manuscripts. For him, Lubbock and Tylor are not: the Folk-lore Society sings to him like a siren, all in vain: no savage myth rises vague upon his narrow horizon: no dim memory of forgotten barbarism shines faintly on him from the storied pages of Plato or Pausanias. His world begins with the First Olympiad: his history finishes with the death of Odoacer. Not of such as these is Mr. Bent. A folk-lorist to the backbone, eager to discover and compare while yet they survive the lingering relics of native Hellenic popular mythology, he has spent two winters hard at work among the almost unbroken ground of the Cyclades, and has finally recorded his net results for us in this pleasant, amusing, and instructive volume.
A detail from Bent’s map of the Cyclades from his 1885 edition.
“[Bernhard] Schmidt had been beforehand with him, it is true, on the Greek mainland; but then, the Greek mainland is largely Albanian, and its folk-lore is largely tinctured with alien elements. The islands, on the other hand, have been always Greek, and, practically speaking, always free. So hither Mr. Bent went with his wife, in search of habits and manners, and dwelling among the people in their own hamlets, collected a goodly store of facts and fancies, which he knows how to detail for us with a cunning pen. At first he studied his human subjects with the aid of a dragoman; but as time went on, and as he began to acquire fluency in the language which we are all supposed to have learned at school, he went direct to the fountain head, and extorted from the not unwilling lips of demarchs and priests and hostesses and pretty Greek maidens innumerable tales of Fates and Nereids, of Boreas and St. Demetrius, of ancient god and Christian martyr, in the picturesque confusion of medieval Europe. The nymphs of the fountain take the place, among the Cyclades, of our northern fairies; Dionysus has got himself thinly Christianized as St. Dionysius; and Charon, properly baptised no doubt for the occasion, still ferries over orthodox Greeks to their last resting-place, as he used to do rightminded Pagans of old to the realms of Hades. Nowhere does the thin veneer of the new religion lie more lightly over the solid and enduring substructure of the old than among the Greek Islands. Essentially pagan still in all his underlying mythological conceptions, the insular Hellene remains a living relic of ages far earlier than even those of the Attic dramatists – he goes back in part to the most primitive stratum of European belief and philosophy. We could have wished that Mr. Bent had given us a little more of actual description of these beautiful and barren islands, but we recognize at the same time how much his book gains from its unique devotion to a difficult, elusive, and fascinating pursuit.
Detail from the front page of the “Pall Mall Budget” for 17 April 1885.
“Sometimes, indeed, as in the episode of the ardent collector waiting patiently at Myconos till somebody should die, and inquiring with sinister anxiety after the health of the various failing invalids, in order that he might be present at one of the death-wails which form the staple product and pride of the island – the eagerness of the folk-lorist becomes positively weird and gruesome in its intensity. A modern story-teller might improve upon the position by making the single-hearted inquirer poison his host so as to provide a victim for the wailing women in the interests of science. We present the hint gratuitously as a valuable property to Mr. Wilkie Collins. If we have repeated none of Mr. Bent’s own good stories, it is only in order that we may send our readers direct to his amusing pages in search of them at first hand. There is matter enough in this little volume to stock half a dozen ordinary bookmakers’ fat notebooks.”
* “The Cyclades.” By J. Theodore Bent. 12s. 6d. (London: Longmans.)
……………………..
Anonymous review of Bent’s The Cyclades; or Life Among the Insular Greeks, from the Pall Mall Budget – 17 April 1885, page 28.
While we wait for an audiobook of Theodore Bent’s “The Cyclades, or Life Among the InsularGreeks“, to mark its 140th anniversary (2025) we are asking ‘Cycladists’, those with affinities to the islands, to read memorable extracts for us. Who better to read from Bent’s Anafi chapter than Professor Emerita Margaret Kenna who carried out her fieldwork there for a doctorate in 1966-1967.
Anafi [Bent’s Ch. 5: Wednesday, 9 January 1884 – Friday, January 11 1884 or Saturday, 12 January 1884]
A photo from the early 1940s giving some idea of what Anafi’s harbour jetty might have looked like 100 years after the Bents sailed from the island (Margaret Kenna).
Bent’s entire chapter read by social anthropologist and Anafi specialist Margaret Kenna (Professor Emerita, Swansea University), who has spent 50 years researching in Greece, most of it focussed on the islanders and migrants of Anafi, spending a year on the island doing fieldwork for her doctorate in 1966 (Greek Island Life: Fieldwork on Anafi, Sean Kingston Publishing, 2017).
Bent’s imaginary sketch of ‘Old Basil’ (The Bent Archive).
“‘Why Old Basil Became a Monk’, by J. Theodore Bent, with illustrations drawn by E.H. Edwards, from Sketches by the Author, engraved by Del Orme and Butler” (being Bent’s fanciful story based on a picnic on Karpathos (1885), published in The Hour Glass, Vol. 1, March 1887, pp. 79-84).
The text and images here are from original 1887 material in the collection of the Bent Archive. The article has never appeared online before. You are free to reproduce the text here, which is our transcription, but are requested to acknowledge us – “Transcription: the Bent Archive, April 2025”.
(Some context: The celebrity explorers Theodore and Mabel Bent made a tour of some of what are now called the Greek Dodecanese islands in the Spring of 1885, inspired by the results of their travels in the Cyclades between 1882-1884. Their first stop was Rhodes, arriving from Alexandria, then there were short visits to Nisyros and Tilos before their extended stay on Karpathos. It will be Bent’s voice you hear next…)
Google map of Karpathos in the Greek Dodecanese. The arrow shows the general area of the Bents’ picnic in March 1885 (Google Maps).
HALFWAY BETWEEN CRETE AND RHODES lies a thin, attenuated island called Karpathos, unknown to travellers, unvisited; its inhabitants are semi-barbarous Greeks, rich only in their inheritance of superstitions; amongst them my wife and I spent three Spring months digging for antiquities and studying folk-lore. Nominally, Karpathos is governed by a Turkish official and a few soldiers; in reality each village governs itself, holds its own parliament in its own church, and the nominal rulers never interfere with this autonomy; for Karpathos is nigh unto Crete, and in consequence revolutionary.
It is a very lofty and lovely island, but the choicest spot of all is a gorge down by the sea called, from a church which is built therein, the gorge of Mrs. All-Holy, or of the Virgin Mary, as we call her in Western Christendom; this church is looked after by a monk called Basil, a very old tottering anchorite, whom we visited together with the Turks one day on muleback. The narrow gorge is clad with fir trees as it ascends the mountain, and with rank vegetation, myrtle, mastic, oleander, maidenhair, all closely interwoven as it approaches the sea; fantastic rocks peep out from amongst the verdure, and the rippling waves of the blue sea wash a narrow beach of silvery sand, just below the Virgin’s church. This church is Basil’s sole charge; at stated hours he rings the bell and chants the services with none to hear him; he takes care that the ever-burning lamps before the sacred pictures do not go out; three times a year he covers the edifice with whitewash; he lives on a few herbs, which he cultivates close around his cabin; he is a monk and hermit combined. Once a year the pious Karpathiotes come to this spot on a pilgrimage, and make merry on the shore; for the rest of the time old Basil lives there alone; for severe affliction has severed him for ever from the joys of this life; his only consolation now is the rigorous asceticism of solitary monastic life.
The church of Kyra Panagia, Karpathos (Alan King).
When we and our polyglot companions reached the gorge, old Basil was much bewildered; he stood at his cabin door, leaning on his staff, and silently inspected us as he crossed himself, then he stroked his long white beard and bade us welcome. His dress was that of a working monk, tattered and torn; his tall hat, which once was black, was now brown; his coat, which once was blue, had now much of the colour of earth about it; his pantaloons, which were tied round his knees, were of doubtful colour; his legs and feet were covered only by many sores. We entered his cabin, the furniture of which consisted of his bed of leaves, his basket of stale bread, his jug of water, a wooden stool, a few sacred pictures; beyond these he neither possessed nor wished for other worldly goods.
“We washed down our lamb with cream and generous wine ‘like the brigands of the mountains’…..” (Lamb ‘kleftiko’ from Wikipedia).
Despite the austere supervision of the monk, our al fresco meal was a great success. An Albanian soldier, whom the Turks had sent round by a mountain farm for a lamb, was our cook. We saw our victim slain and skinned; we watched it pierced with a new-cut wooden skewer, and with impatient eyes we looked on whilst it revolved before a smouldering fire of brushwood, for the process of basting with cream and salt produced such exquisite sensations on our nasal organs that our appetites became painfully keen. When ready, a table of sweet smelling herbs was spread, around which we squatted on our haunches, and no pressing was needed to induce us to take in our fingers the proferred [sic] joints; and I must candidly admit that the barbarous process of gnawing produced far more real enjoyment than the most exquisitely served repast of western civilization. We washed down our lamb with cream and generous wine “like the brigands of the mountains”, suggested our Albanian and we privately congratulated ourselves that it was unaccompanied by sensations which must spoil the repast of those who are compelled to eat thus against their will.
Old Basil, though at first affecting to despise our mundane appetites, was at length persuaded to drink from our gourd of wine; his eye grew brighter, the strings of his tongue were unloosed, and though we had heard his story from the villagers, we could not resist asking him to renew for us his tale of unutterable woe, and in acceding to our request he introduced us to many interesting glimpses into the inner life of these wild islanders.
Page 1 (p.79) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article (The Bent Archive).
When young, Basil, like most men on Karpathos still do, had travelled far during the summer months in search of work, he had visited many of the coastal towns of Asia Minor, he had fought in several Cretan rebellions, and each winter had returned to his home. Being thrifty, and not without personal attractions, he was recognised as a desirable husband by the parents of one Penelope; he married, and in due course became the father of two sons and one daughter – Agape by name. Every summer he was absent, and every winter he spent with Penelope and his children, until the sons were old enough to go and earn their living abroad; and on Penelope’s death old Basil determined to stop at home and till his property, which he had got as a dower with his wife, and which was to be Agape’s portion when her turn came to marry. There is a curious, and very ancient, custom existing still in the remote Greek islands; the eldest daughter inherits everything, to the exclusion of her brothers and younger sisters. Agape would not only have her mother’s house and property, but her mother’s embroidered dresses, her mother’s grave in the churchyard, nay, even her mother’s slab in the church, on which she had inherited the exclusive right to kneel. This survival of a matriarchal system is productive of two evils, an enormous proportion of old maids, and an ambition to secure for the heiress a grand match; fathers and mothers to gain their object, will often leave themselves and the rest of their family in abject poverty, for the sole gratification of being able to speak amongst men of their daughter, the school-master’s wife, or of their son-in-law, the captain.
Page 2 (p.80) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article. The illustration is based on a sketch by the author (The Bent Archive).
Basil shared with the other parents of Karpathos this keen ambition; by his private earnings he had greatly increased and improved his property; he was the owner of a farm on the mountains, and many flocks; all these, in addition to her mother’s portion, he carefully advertised would belong to Agape when the right man should come. As a natural consequence of this advertisement the right man was not long in coming, and what was more, he came from a rich neighbouring island called Chalki. He was a well-to-do sponge-fisher, “a man of substance, and the owner of a caique”, said old Basil, with the fire of his former ambition still lurking in him; his face was animated, and his gesture very unlike that of a monk anchorite, as he related to us the great triumph of his life, the marriage of his daughter.
Page 3 (p.81) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article. The illustration is based on some sketches by the author (The Bent Archive).
He gave us a lively account of the wedding and its old-world semi-barbarous functions; nothing he had ever seen before exceeded the lavish waste of rice and comfits which the bystanders threw at the young people when the priests chanted the “Crown them in glory and honour” and the “Esaias dances”; and the gifts brought by the relatives, “the crowning gifts” as they call them, were exceedingly numerous, and doubtless by comparison costly, consisting, as is the custom there, of sheep, goats, honey, cheese, and other edibles for the wedding feasts; and for the space of eight days the village where Basil lived was the scene of continued dissipation.
Page 4 (p.82) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article (The Bent Archive).
He entered very fully into the captain’s folly in not conforming to certain well-recognised superstitious customs, which brides and bridegrooms in Karpathos must attend to if they wish their married life to be a prosperous one. Before three days had elapsed, the captain actually dared to jump over a stream, and laughed at the old women who predicted that he would suffer from the baneful smile of the water nymphs, Nereids, as the Greeks still call them. Regardless of any warning, he insisted on pruning the vines and trees on his newly-acquired property before the lapse of the customary cessation from such labour for forty days after marriage, and furthermore by a promise of reward he had induced Basil’s two sons to assist him in this work.
“He was”, added Basil to extenuate his son-in-law’s folly, “a world-travelled man, and we world-travelled men are foolishly apt to scoff at ancestral traditions.”
The captain evidently cared but little for his wife’s relations; he must needs set off home with Agape to Chalki before the expiration of the mysterious forty days; the expostulations of the old women were in vain – even the wedding decorations were taken down hurriedly without a priestly blessing, and Basil told us how he parted from his daughter with a heavy heart, fearing misfortune, yet not liking to give expression to his fears.
After the lapse of a few months he visited his daughter in her new home; he told us much concerning the comparative grandeur of Agape’s house, almost anything would look grand after a Karpathiote hovel; she had glass in her windows; she had wooden floors, instead of pressed manure; she had in fact what old Basil generalised at the end of his catalogue by the one word “civilization”; and the summer passed at Chalki, whilst his sons were away, must have been to Basil the brightest speck in his long life ; and I imagine that, on his return to Karpathos, he must have been insupportably arrogant concerning his daughter’s magnificence, for even now, monk anchorite that he is, he cannot check his tongue when once loosened on this subject.
In the autumn the captain and his wife visited Karpathos, to gather in the vintage and other products of their property; and it was during this visit that the fatal compact was made between Basil’s two sons, Andrew and Paul, and their brother-in-law; they were to join him in his sponge-fishing expedition in the summer, instead of going to Smyrna in search of work; by this means both parties would be benefited, money would be kept in the family, and, as usual in Karpathos, the winter passed in revelry and idleness.
One day, early in May, news came that the captain’s caique was approaching Karpathos; so Basil and his two sons hurried down to the little harbour to greet their distinguished kinsfolk; a proud moment it was for the old man when the craft arrived, and his fellow-islanders with wondering eyes beheld the diving apparatus and improved fishing-tackle with which the captain’s caique was furnished; in poor benighted Karpathos there are no sponge-fishers, for they have no capital, hence these things were new to them; the captain was the hero of the hour, and much reflected glory fell on old Basil’s head.
After a few days of festivity and farewells, the three sponge-fishers started on their way, and Agape and her father went up to their home in the mountain village to pass the weary summer months, as best they could, and it was well on in the month of August before the blow came; old Basil was sitting basking in the sun, Agape was twirling her spindle and gossiping with her neighbours, when a messenger came to say that a Turkish steamer was in the harbour and that old Basil was wanted without delay.
Scenery around Kyra Panagia today. The path taken by the Bents would have led them through this wooded valley… (photo: Jennifer Barclay)
“I could not imagine”, said the old monk, “what the Turks could want with an old man like me; surely they did not intend to punish me for my participation in Cretan rebellions; and with terrible suspicions of some impending evil, I was rowed to the steamer and ushered into the captain’s cabin with an interpreter, who seemed to enjoy my anxiety, and to delay as much as possible arriving at the facts. ‘Is this the old man Basil?’ asked the captain, ‘the father of the young men?’ and from this I knew that it was about my sons I had been summoned, and my heart sank within me. Then they talked low and hurriedly for some time, and all I could gather with my slight knowledge of Turkish was that something terrible was going to be revealed to me. I could only pray to the All-Holy one for support.”
At this juncture the poor old monk’s voice grew shaky, and he wept a little; we felt rather sorry for having asked him to renew his grief, but then we could give him sympathy, a soothing antidote to woe, which must be rare in his dreary solitude. “How I was told I don’t remember”, continued he; “after some time I awoke as from a painful dream; I found myself lying on deck on a mattress, and on raising my head I saw that we were steaming past the northern promontory of Karpathos. I was alone, amongst the Turks, going I knew not whither. I had no means of asking if the horrible tale which forced itself on my recollection was true, yet I gradually felt sure that it was – that my three brave sons were dead – that my daughter was a widow, and that death had come upon them in a form which makes me shudder now every time I think of it, and every night I fancy to myself some new and horrible picture of the event which, though I never saw it, is more vividly before me than anything I have ever seen.”
Page 5 (p.83) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article. The illustration is based on a sketch by the author (The Bent Archive).
Upon this Basil grew very rambling and very heart-broken, poor old man – so I will relate in fewer words than he did the events as they happened. The three fishermen had been very successful; they had sold, to merchants in Kalymnos, their sponges, and were starting again in quest of further gain, when a boat overtook them, manned by eight men from the island of Amorgos, one of the last strongholds of petty piracy in these seas; these men had learnt in Kalymnos that the three men had money with them, and looked upon them as a desirable prize. Basil’s son-in-law was shot dead whilst attempting to offer resistance; the pirates boarded his caique, and after transferring everything of value to their own, they tied Basil’s two sons to the mast, scuttled the boat, and left the two young men to be swallowed by the waves. Another fishing boat, which chanced to be near, having witnessed this wholesale murder and robbery, hurried back to Kalymnos and gave notice to the authorities; divers were sent to verify the account; the dead bodies of Basil’s two sons were recovered and conveyed to Kalymnos, whilst, with a promptitude unusual in Turkey, a government steamer was summoned by telegram from Chios, and the pirates were captured. Such was the story that old Basil learnt on the steamer which conveyed him to Kalymnos to identify the bodies of his sons; as for the captain, Agape’s husband, his remains were never found – he never received consecrated burial.
Page 6 (p.84) of Bent’s 1887 ‘Old Basil’ article. The bizarre illustration is possibly by the author from another source (The Bent Archive).
Sad and sick at heart, after burying his two sons at Kalymnos, old Basil returned to Karpathos, where scenes of lamentation and death wails served doubtless to render his grief more poignant; and there is something more especially melancholy in the wails that these islanders hold in honour of the dead who have died [away?] from home; though the corpse is not in their midst, as is usually the case, the hired mourning women and the relatives think it a duty incumbent on them on such occasions to indulge in more heartrending dirges, and to tear their hair and lacerate their faces and arms with the greater vehemence. These deathwails [sic], too, last for forty days; every day the mourners meet for an hour or so to give way to their extravagant grief; again and again are the virtues of the deceased recorded; again and again is the loneliness of the survivors pitied – and I feel sure that poor old Basil had many genuine sympathisers, for his bereavement was bitter indeed. The sentiment of having the remains of the departed reposing near is not much felt in Greece, for after the lapse of a year the coffinless body is always exhumed, and the bones, tied up in an embroidered bag, are consigned to the family charnel house. When we were in Karpathos, owing to heavy rains, many of these private bone-houses were in ruins, and never shall I forget the ghastly spectacle afforded by the deceased family of the chief priest – his parents, his cousins, his sisters, and his aunts were all rolling about in grim confusion around the ruins of the bone-house; this painful sight, at least, old Basil was spared.
The listing of Bent’s ‘Old Basil’ article in the March 1887 issue of ‘The Hour Glass’ (The Bent Archive).
By degrees, from Agape’s heart the grief soon fled, a grief which, perhaps, if the truth were known, had its alleviations. In twelve months after the loss of her husband and brethren, she listened to the wooings of another lover, from another island, who carried off his bride without festivities, and without her father’s blessing, but with the same ample dower that had won for her the captain from Chalki. On her departure old Basil’s cup of bitterness was full. Alone in the world and bereft, he sought the kindly solitude of the secluded gorge, where, shut off from the world by a screen of mountains, he could devote himself to asceticism for the brief period of life that still remained to him.
As evening was coming on, we quitted old Basil; we did not insult his feelings by offering him the remnants of our feast; we simply left them to his discretion, and we hope his comfort.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Vol. 1 of ‘The Hour Glass’, 1897, in which Bent’s article appears. In a competitive market, it lasted a year (The Bent Archive).
The above, obscure article by Theodore Bent appeared in The Hour Glass in March 1887. It is one of his more fictitious pieces, perhaps based on some tales and customs (including funeral rites) he heard in the islands: research in the media of the time might turn up an account of the murders related. Mabel makes no mention of the monk Basil/Vasili in her charming chronicle describing the picnic – which did take place in March 1885 and tallies with Theodore’s setting (and elaboration to include ‘Vasili’) in his later, extended, account of the couple’s stay on the island (‘On a far-off island’. Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 139, Feb. 1886, pp.233-44). For Mabel’s first-hand account of Karpathos, see The Travel Chronicles of Mabel Bent, Vol. 1, 2006, Oxford, pp.85-6).
Bent was remunerated for his stories in the popular journals (e.g. Blackwood’s Magazine) for which he wrote, and this may explain why he decided to expand the ‘Old Basil’ idea. Perhaps he had had positive feedback on the episode from third parties. Perhaps over the summer of 1886 (or earlier) he was aware of the proposed new Hour Glass magazine and made his submission (including his sketches) in time to proofread it before leaving for the Eastern Mediterranean in the last week of January 1887. Given how busy he was with all his other ‘serious’ publications, lecturing, and preparing for the next expedition, he obviously took pleasure in giving his imagination free rein now and then, taking time off from his more academic pursuits. (Some of Bent’s other fanciful pieces are listed below.)
The final page (p.84) of the original article shows a bizarre engraving of a (Western) monk, perhaps by Bent (a monogram bottom right ‘JTB’ ?) or another artist (The Bent Archive).
The three illustrations in the piece are based on Bent’s Karpathos sketches – he was never without his sketchbook and there is no end of references to his art in Mabel’s notebooks. In the village of ‘Mesochorio’ (Mesochori) we know that Theodore drew a likeness of Papas Manolis (or Manoulas) and, who knows, perhaps he presented this to the Hour Glass as ‘Old Basil’ and it is his likeness we see at the top of this present article? Where the originals are is unknown, but unpublished albums of Bent’s sketches are hidden away in Ireland and Zimbabwe, hopefully to appear in public one day. The person responsible for interpreting Bent’s sketches was E.H. Edwards, who does not seem to appear online; the engravers, however, are the well-known partners Del Orme and Butler. The final page (p.84) in the original has a bizarre engraving of a (Western) monk perhaps by Bent (a monogram bottom right ‘JTB’ ?) or another artist.
The Hour Glass was gone in the time it took for the sand to run through it: it lasted 12 months. The new periodical was announced in December 1886: “Ready in a few days, ‘Hour Glass’; threepence monthly. The new illustrated magazine contains short articles by the best writers on topics of the Hour…” (The Globe, Friday, 10 December 1886). Bent’s issue (March 1887) was advertised, inter alia, on 28 February (Freeman’s Journal and The Globe) and again on 4 March (The Globe).
The publishers took pride in its low price, 3d, and it seems, ultimately, that the sums just didn’t add up.
Among Bent’s other Greek ‘fictional’ articles are:
Istanbul Archaeological Museum, the Bents’ statue of Vibia Sabina from Thasos (3rd century CE). Photo G. Dallorto (Wikipedia Creative Commons).
Sunday, 20 March 1887: “Yesterday morning we turned over a pedestal and found this inscription: ‘Good Luck. The Elders to the most excellent Archpriestess Floueivia Savia of unblemished ancestry, their own mother, the first who ever enjoyed equal honours with the Elders’.”
Introduction
Among all their other ‘finds’, three distinctive statues stand proud in the Bents’ list of Aegean trophies – all from islands. They could not be more different. The earliest is the bizarre, ostensibly prehistoric, limestone cult figurine (?) from Karpathos in the Dodecanese, now famously known as the ‘Karpathos Lady’; the next, chronologically, is the ‘Bent Kouros’ (6th c. BCE) from Aliki, Thasos. (See below, where both are illustrated note 1 .) The third, the subject of this short article, and also from Thasos, is the 3rd-century CE local grey marble statue of Fulvia Vibia Sabina (83-136/137 CE) – inter alia, noble Roman empress, priestess, wife, and second cousin once removed of the Emperor Hadrian.
The Greek island of Thasos, c. 17 nautical miles south of Kavala in the northern Aegean. The port of Limenas, the findspot of the Bents’ statue of Vibia Sabina, is on the northeast coast (Google Maps).
Our setting is a central area in the ancient harbour town of Limenas, on the northeast corner of Thasos, an island c. 17 nautical miles south of Kavala, modern Greece, but in Turkish hands when the British celebrity explorers Theodore and Mabel Bent visited between early March and early May 1887. The Bents have been busy ‘investigating’ (which seems to have included some blasting!) a complex of Roman remains. They discover a large statue, and it is love at first sight for Mabel, who provides some (sentimental) details in her diary:
Saturday, 19 March 1887: “… we turned over a pedestal and found this inscription: ‘Good Luck. The Elders to the most excellent Archpriestess Floueivia Savia of unblemished ancestry, their own mother, the first who ever enjoyed equal honours with the Elders’… We then became aware that the lady was lying underneath and then, of course, great and careful cleaning of the earth took place, a road cut in the great bank we had thrown up, and, finally, she was revealed; she had fallen headlong on her face, fortunately on sand and was very little broken. Her right hand and the tip of her nose were broken ‘then’, as the workmen say, and are missing. A ship’s captain was called to our aid and with great yells and screams and counter advice, she was hauled safely out. People were addressed as ‘infant’, ‘baby dear’, ‘beloved’, and ‘brother’, including Theodore and [Mustapha] Bey. Poor little man, I have talked so sensibly to him about not letting the holes be filled up and he is so well-meaning that I feel sure he would like to begin a museum with Floueivia. But we want her home…
Mabel Bent’s original ‘Chronicle’ entry for 20 March 1877, referring to the crosses ‘scribbled’ on the statue of Fl. Vibia Sabina (Hellenic Society Archive, London, Creative Commons).
“Today [i.e. Sunday 20 March] we found that children had scribbled crosses with sharp stones on Floueivia so that I sat by her while Theodore fetched the Bey and he desired a zaptich [officer], Vasillikos, to live and sleep by her. It being piercingly cold he was not pleased, but at last it was decided to remove her at once to the ‘konak’ – the Bey’s palace. Accordingly, no wheeled vehicle existing here, a forked tree was formed into a sledge with logs across and the lady tied on and then three yokes of oxen attached and away went Floueivia across a stream first, under the olive trees, with a gaily dressed and very picturesque crowd of various nationalities, and the chief rejoicers following behind.
“With the grey statue on the yellow and orange sledge, the whole scene was one of the prettiest triumphal processions any archaeologist ever beheld. It was so strange and mysterious to know her name and a scrap of her history and not yet to know what her face was like, and she was lying in such a helpless way with her head a little lower than her feet, one wondered why she did not help herself up and she looked so pretty and young and as I sat cross legged on her inscription imploring care for her head, I wonder why she had ever been so honoured and thought how glad she must be to come out after being trodden on and ploughed over for 2000 years – I should have liked to have a good comfortable cry.” (The Travel Chronicles of Mrs J. Theodore Bent, Vol. 1, Oxford, 2006, p. 200-202)
Site – The ‘Arch of Caracalla’, Limenas, Thasos
The find-site, the general area of Agora, on Thasos was a complex jumble of large stone blocks discovered by Theodore in a field owned by one Mr Sponti. Further discoveries, including inscriptions, revealed that Theodore had actually uncovered a monumental ceremonial arch dedicated to the Emperor Caracalla (ruled 188-217 CE) by grateful Thasians, with the statue of Fulvia Vibia Sabina forming part of it, located by one of the entrances. The local grey limestone could well have provided the figure, or she might perhaps have been commissioned from overseas, judging by the quality of the workshop. Theodore is credited with the unearthing of the remnants of this enormous site, and he later contributed several articles about his discoveries, including his ‘Arch of Caracalla’ and the statue of Fulvia. In one of these articles he gives his account of finding the statue:
Limenas, Thasos, reconstruction of the ‘Arch of Caracalla’ discovered by the Bents in 1887. The statue of Vibia Sabina stands in front of the second pier from the right (J.-Y. Marc, ΑΕΜΘ 7 (1993), fig.2 (public domain).
“In front of the northern columns nearest to the city, and consequently in the place of honour, stood a prettily adorned pedestal 6 ft. 9 in. high [2.06m], with an inscription which tells us that the statue which surmounted it was erected by the senate ‘to their mother Phloueibia Sabina, the most worthy archpriestess of incomparable ancestors, the first and only lady who had ever received equal honours to those who were in the senate.’ The statue we found at the foot of the pedestal, luckily preserved by falling into a bed of sand, so that only the tip of the nose and the right hand were missing; the left hand, which hung by her side, is adorned with a large ring, and the whole body is covered by a gracefully hanging robe; the face is that of a young and lovely woman. Although not resembling statues to the same person, it is highly probable it was erected to the honour of the Empress Sabina, wife of Hadrian…” (J.T. Bent, ‘Discoveries in Thasos’. Athenæum, Issue 3113 (Jun), p. 839)
The Inscription
Fulvia’s inscription was found by the Bents on a limestone base, c. 2 m high, and probably 1 m + in width and depth. Investigations are being made to trace it – very likely still in situ or in the newly renovated Thasos Museum.
Theodore and Mabel provide various interpretations of the inscription on the statue’s base. The first we have is from Mabel’s notebook (see illustration above), obviously an on-the-spot translation from the Greek made by the couple: “Good Luck. The Elders to the most excellent Archpriestess Floueivia Savia of unblemished ancestry, their own mother, the first who ever enjoyed equal honours with the Elders.” (The Travel Chronicles of Mrs J. Theodore Bent, Vol. 1, Oxford, 2006, p. 200)
Bent’s account in the Athenæum (as previously mentioned) informs that the statue “was erected by the senate ‘to their mother Phloueibia Sabina, the most worthy archpriestess of incomparable ancestors, the first and only lady who had ever received equal honours to those who were in the senate.'”
A further version is provided by the eminent philologist, and friend of Bent, Edward Lee Hicks (1843-1919), later Bishop of Lincoln (UK). He published many of Bent’s inscriptions from Thasos and elsewhere over a five-year period in the late 1880s, e.g. ‘Inscriptions from Thasos’, in The Journal of Hellenic Studies (1887, Vol. 8, 409-438).
This was a joint article with Bent, in which Hicks allocates the number 31 to the inscription. Bent provides some further information on the arch and the statue:
E.L. Hicks’ transliteration of the inscription on the plinth supporting the Bents’ statue of Fl. Vibia Sabina, part of the Arch of Caracalla, discovered in the spring of 1877 in Limenas, Thasos (Bent and Hicks, ‘Inscriptions from Thasos’. ‘The Journal of Hellenic Studies’, 1887, Vol. 8, 426) (archive.org).
“The Roman arch we found in the town occupied a conspicuous position on what appears to have been the central street, the site being only indicated by a stone about three feet out of the ground, the rest being buried in some twelve feet of soil. The arch was 54 feet in length, and rested on four bases—the northern and southern columns being alone perfect—4 feet 8 inches square at the base, 9 feet 5 inches high, and having a small pattern down the outer edge. The two outer entrances were 6 feet 2 inches in width, the central expanse being 20 feet, and the whole structure rested on a raised marble pavement 6 feet 11 inches in width… In front and behind the two central columns of the arch were four pedestals, three with inscriptions… That to the front and to the right was 6 feet 9 inches high [just over 2 m], and had inscription No. 31; just below it lay the statue which had surmounted it, in perfect condition save for the tip of the nose and the right hand. It represented a female figure 6 feet 3 inches high [just under 2 m], enveloped in a long cloak, the left hand by her side being adorned with a large ring; the face was that of a young and graceful lady, and the drapery hung much more gracefully than it did on fragments of the statues which we found close to the other pedestals…” (pp. 437-438)
In a summary of ongoing research in Greece in 1886/7, the eminent archaeologist E.A. Gardner refers to the Bents’ statue (p. 284):
Plan of the ancient capital of Thasos. The Bents’ ‘Arch of Caracalla’, in the general area of the agora, arrowed (Wikipedia).
“Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Bent are now exploring in Thasos. They seem not as yet to have come across any of the archaic sculptures or inscriptions for which the island seemed so promising a field. But the agora has been found, and a triumphal arch with an inscription in honour (apparently) of Caracalla… In front of the arch were two bases. One of them held a statue, more than life size, which has been recovered. It is a female portrait, and on the basis is the following very curious inscription, calling Flavia Vibia Sabina μητέρα γερουσίας, and stating that she was the first and only woman from all time that ever shared equally in the privileges of the senators.
“Flavia Vibia Sabina seems to have been an ancient and successful champion of the political rights of her sex: and if, as may be hoped, her statue be transported to London, it should not in these times miss its due honour…”
Happily, she is never, however, to travel to the foggy London of the late 19th century, for she is coveted by the mercurial Turkish polymath, and first director of the Istanbul Archaeological Museum.
Osman Hamdi Bey (1842-1910)
The Bents’ great nemesis, Osman Hamdi Bey (1842-1910) (Wikipedia).
At the time the Bents were ‘active’, modern Turkey, like modern Greece, was well aware of its cultural assets and soon placed tight restrictions on amateur, independent excavators – whether the Bents saw themselves as ‘archaeologists’ or not. Rights to dig were, in a way, licensed to the newly formed archaeological institutions in Greece (e.g. The French School at Athens – 1846; German Archaeological Institute at Athens – 1874; American School of Classical Studies at Athens – 1881; British School at Athens – 1886; etc.), and Turkey was about to do the same. In Istanbul, the official overseeing Turkey’s clampdown on illegal handling of cultural assets was Osman Hamdi Bey. Previously, in 1884, this remarkable artist/intellectual oversaw the initiation of regulations prohibiting historical artifacts from being smuggled abroad (‘Asar-ı Atîka Nizamnamesi’). Naturally enough, he soon became an implacable foe of the Bents, who, at last, by 1889, were forced to ‘work’ in lands where any restrictions on their explorations were minimal if non-existent, i.e. Bahrain and other regions where the British Empire held sway.
While on Thasos, the couple undertook their investigations under the watchful and approving eye of a local ‘Bey’, who clearly kept Istanbul informed of Theodore’s major finds. Consequently, he was unable to return to London with anything more then his rolls of paper ‘squeezes’ of the inscriptions he uncovered.
To the Bents’ great regret, Fulvia Vibia Sabina was post haste crated up and despatched to the Turkish capital and its new museum (see Gustave Mendel, Catalogue des Sculptures Grecques, Romaines et Byzantines I, pp. 347-348, no. 137 (Constantinople, 1912), museum inv. no. 375).
On a later trip to Constantinople in February 1888, Mabel paid a visit to Fulvia, obviously still bitter: “We also went to the museum and saw our statues exposed to the weather, planted in mud and really we carefully looked and saw nothing so good of their kind. No wonder Hamdi won’t give them up. He would like a few things out of our own little museum [i.e. the Bents’ London home] for he has some rubbish in his. How angry he’d be if he knew of our digging at Vourgounda in Karpathos! [in 1885]. Well, we hope to be even with him yet for robbing us.” (The Travel Chronicles of Mrs J. Theodore Bent, Vol. 1, Oxford, 2006, p. 230)
For an amusing retelling of Theodore’s (almost) love-hate relationship with Osman Hamdi Bey, see the former’s article ‘Hamdi Bey’, first published in the Contemporary Review in 1888 (Vol. 54, 1888 (July/Dec), pp. 724-733).
Those scratches
“Today we found that children had scribbled crosses with sharp stones on Floueivia.” One of the crosses still just visible on the statue today in Istanbul’s archaeological museum.
Mabel was clearly mortified by the crosses she found scratched into ‘her’ statue: “Today we found that children had scribbled crosses with sharp stones on Floueivia…”
How Mabel could be certain that children were to blame she does not say – it could easily have been any Orthodox believer trying to ‘de-paganise’ the Roman archpriestess. The crosses remain just visible on ‘Floueivia’s front today – obviously intended to be seen, and thus, as it were, reclaimed by the Church.
Note 1: The Bents’ two other remarkable statues
“The Karpathos Lady”. Acquired by the Bents from Karpathos island in 1885 (Trustees of the British Museum).
The other notable statues in the Bents’ trio of statues are the Neolithic (?) limestone cult (?) figurine from Karpathos in the Dodecanese, the ‘Karpathos Lady‘, which the couple were able to spirit off the island in 1885 – they had purchased it from a local and resold it to the British Museum.
The ‘Bent Kouros’ from Aliki, Thasos (see Gustave Mendel, ‘Catalogue des Sculptures Grecques, Romaines et Byzantines’, Vol. II. p.215, inv. no. 517, Constantinople, 1914; image: archive.org).
1877: ‘Discoveries in Thasos’. Athenæum, Issue 3113 (Jun), 839. [Reprinted in ‘Archæological News’, by A.L. Frothingham, Jr., The American Journal of Archaeology and of the History of the Fine Arts, Dec., 1887, Vol. 3, No. 3/4 (Dec., 1887), 446-455]
2012: Sheila Dillon, ‘Female Portraiture in the Hellenistic Period’, in S.L. James and S. Dillon (eds) A companion to Women in the Ancient World, pp. 274-275, London: Wiley-Blackwell.
Some of Mabel Bent’s ‘Chronicles’ in the archive of the Hellenic Society, London (photo: the Bent Archive).
[Unless otherwise referenced, original Mabel Bent material courtesy of The Hellenic Society/School of Advanced Study, University of London (reproduced under Creative Commons: Attribution-No Derivative Works 4.0)]
The Hellenic Society’s holdings of the notebooks and Chronicles of celebrity explorers Theodore and Mabel Bent have now been digitised and are available here via the School of Advanced Study, University of London.
The Bents had almost twenty years of travel adventures together (1877-1897), being interested in many fields of ethnology, archaeology, and geography in the Levant, Africa, and Arabia.
What follows is a quick glance at the subfusc covers of Mabel’s diaries (or ‘Chronicles’ as she called them) 1883-1897. Not all of them, however, i.e. her (alas lost?) diary of the pair’s trip to Ethiopia in 1893, and Mabel’s solo journey to Egypt in 1898, as a widow, depressively labelled by her: ‘A lonely useless journey’. (Click for the full itineraries and details of all the couple’s travels together.)
Mabel Bent’s travel notebooks:
Plate 1: Mabel Bent’s ‘Chronicle’ covers: 1883/4 to 1897 (upper: 1, 2; lower: 3, 4) (The Hellenic Society).
1) The Cyclades: beginning “Mabel Bent, her Chronicle in The Kyklades 1883-4. Dedicated to my Sisters and my Aunts”, the first of Mabel’s Chronicles (and the only one not to have a pasted front label) is written in a dark-red leather, lined and columned, accounts book (£.s.d.); it has marbled endpapers and edges and measures 175 x 110 mm. Mabel completes 94 of its 130 leaves. note 1
2) The Dodecanese: beginning “Mabel V.A. Bent her Chronicle in the Sporades, etc. 1885”, the second of Mabel’s Chronicles is written in a blue marbled, board covered notebook (185 x 120 mm) with marbled endpapers and edges. Mabel’s initials are inked on the front. There are 170 lined pages and Mabel fills 115 of them. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Egypt Greece 1885 –’.
3) The Eastern Aegean: inexplicably beginning “My Fourth Chronicle 1886”, the third of Mabel’s travel diaries is written in a dark-red leather notebook (180 x 115 mm) with marbled endpapers and edges. near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. There are 192 lined pages and Mabel uses all but 10 of them. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Istambul [sic] Greek Islands 1886 –’. note 2
4) The Northern Aegean: beginning simply “1887”, Mabel’s fourth Chronicle is written in a dark-red leather notebook (180 x 115 mm) with marbled endpapers and edges. near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines, the corners including a stylized clover design. There are 85 lined pages and Mabel has covered 75 of them. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Greece 1887’. note 3 Plate 2: Mabel Bent’s ‘Chronicle’ covers: 1888 and 1889 (upper: 5, 6; lower: 7, 8) (The Hellenic Society).
5) The Turkish coast: beginning “My fifth Chronicle” (the correct numbering is restored), Mabel’s 1888 diary is written in a dark-red leather book (180 x 115 mm), with gold lines on the spine and covers; the endpapers and edges are marbled. Near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. There are 192 pages of lined paper, of which Mabel has used 182. This expedition involved a happy cruise along Turkey’s south-western shores – “…a paradise for archaeologists and tortoises…” The pasted cover label reads: ‘Turkey Russia 1888’.
6, 7, 8) Bahrain and Iran (in 3 vols): beginning “Persia 1889”, this adventure, including a marathon ride, south-north, through present-day Iran, and well deserving of a documentary on its own, necessitated three notebooks. Mabel adds in the third volume (8) that it is her 6th Chronicle. Notebook 6 is plain and bound in dark-red leather (180 x 115 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled; near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. There are 148 lined pages, of which Mabel has used all, including the endpapers. Notebook 7, perhaps from the same retailer, is also a plain, dark-red leather volume (180 x 115 mm); the endpapers and edges are marbled; there are 148 pages, of which Mabel has used all, including the endpapers. Notebook 8 is from a different source; it is a plain, dark-red, leathered-covered book (170 x 110 mm); there are 184 pages, plus endpapers, of which Mabel has used 50; the edges are speckled with blue wavy lines. The three pasted cover labels read: ‘1889 no 1 –’; ‘Persia 1889 (2)’; ‘1889 No. 3’. note 4 Plate 3: Mabel Bent’s ‘Chronicle’ covers: 1890 and 1891 (upper: 9, 10; lower: 11, 12) (The Hellenic Society).
9) Turkey: beginning “My Seventh Chronicle ‘Rugged Cilicia’ 1890”, this Chronicle is written in a dark-red leather book (185 x 120 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; there are 90 pages and Mabel has filled 89 of them. Near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Cilicia 1890’. note 5
10, 11) South Africa: beginning “1891. My Eigth [sic] Chronicle To Zimbabye in Mashonaland”, Mabel uses two notebooks for the couple’s notorious 1891 travels to and from South Africa, occupying the energetic duo for most of 1891. Notebook 1 (10) is a plain, dark-red leather volume (180 x 120 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; there are 180 pages, plus endpapers, of which Mabel has used all. The volume ends in early August 1891 as the party approaches the year-old Fort Salisbury (modern Harare, where Theodore’s watercolours of the trip are now seemingly inaccessible in the Archives). The second notebook narrates the homeward journey, via Umtali (Mutare) and the Pungwe River to Beira in Mozambique. The second volume (11) does not quite match its predecessor; it is plain and in dark-red leather (175 x 115 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; near the edges of the covers of both books are two parallel and scored lines. There are 164 pages, of which Mabel has used all but six. The pasted cover labels read, respectively: ‘Central Africa No 1’ and ‘1891 No 2 Africa Central’. note 6
[Mabel’s notebooks, for what would have been her ‘9th Chronicle’, relating their subsequent expedition in 1893 to Ethiopia, are, alas, lost]
12) Wadi Hadramaut (Yemen): beginning, defiantly, ‘Hadramout’, with no Chronicle number (it would be No. 10), Mabel uses two notebooks to narrate their famous 1893-4 travels to the Wadi Hadramaut in Yemen, Southern Arabia (the start of a trio of ill-fated expeditions). The first volume includes the party’s preparations in Aden (December 1893). It is a plain, dark-red leather volume (180 x 115 mm); near the edges of the covers of both books are two parallel and scored lines. The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; there are 146 pages, plus endpapers, of which Mabel has used all. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Hadramaut 1893 to 94 No 1 A’.
Plate 4: Mabel Bent’s ‘Chronicle’ covers: 1894 to 1897 (upper: 13, 14; lower: 15, 16) (The Hellenic Society).
13) Wadi Hadramaut (Yemen): beginning “Continuation of My Chronicle in the only very moderately Blest Arabia 1894”, Mabel’s second notebook here concludes their curtailed trek into the Wadi Hadramaut, and sees the pair reach London again in April 1894. It is a plain, dark-red leather volume (180 x 115 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled. Near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. The paper is lined; there are 146 pages, of which Mabel has used just 34. The cover label reads: ‘Hadramaut – no 2. A 1894 -’. (It appears that the year has been altered from ‘1884’.)
14) Muscat and Dhofar: beginning just “Saturday 15th December, 1894. The Residency, Muscat”, Mabel again gives no Chronicle number (it would be No. 11) to this notebook covering the couple’s aborted and dispiriting expedition into the Wadi Hadramaut, this time from the east. It is a dark-red leather volume with gilt bordering (180 x 115 mm). The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; there are 172 pages, plus endpapers, of which Mabel has used just 68, indicating a frustrated expedition. The pasted cover label reads (confusingly): ‘1894-5 Hadramaut’.
15) Red Sea (west coast): beginning “1895 The Chronicle of my Thirteenth Journey”, although in fact, and ominously, it should be referenced her as her twelfth, this penultimate adventure has the couple travelling from Suez, south to Massowa (Mitsiwa) and back, by dhow. On the way home, via Athens, they attend the first modern Olympic Games. Mabel keeps her diary in a lined, dark-red leather book (175 x 115 mm), near the edges of the covers there are two parallel and scored lines. The endpapers are marbled; there are 152 pages in the notebook but Mabel only completes 62. The cover label reads: ‘1895-6 Suez Kourbat Athens’. note 7
16) Sokotra, Aden: Beginning (with the ‘c’ altered to a ‘k’) “The Island of Sokotra 1896-7”, Mabel’s unnumbered diary (it is, in fact, the unlucky 13th Chronicle) details the couple’s final journey together, and is to witness them at the end both desperately ill with malaria (Theodore dies in London a few days after their return in May 1897, ending nearly twenty years of hitherto inseparable travel). The notebook is a dark-red leather volume (180 x 115 mm), with gold edging to the spine and covers. The endpapers and edges are marbled. The paper is lined; there are 178 pages, plus endpapers, of which Mabel has used 146. The pasted cover label reads: ‘Isle [of] Socotra 1896-7’. note 8
Notes
Four of Mabel’s opening flourishes to her ‘Chronicles’. The 1895 notebook was actually the account her 12th journey, making the ‘Sokotra’ journal her unlucky 13th – Theodore died of malarial complications a few days after returning to London, 5th May 1897. (The Hellenic Society).
Note 1: The Bents had first toured the Eastern Mediterranean, and some of the Greek and Turkish islands, including the Cyclades, in early 1883, but it seems Mabel did not keep a travel diary at that time, more’s the pity, although her later diaries make reference to it (i.e. see The Travel Chronicles of Mabel Bent, Vol.1, 2006, Oxford, p.52). Mabel’s first diary notebook was, in fact, one of Theodore’s, he has written in the back ‘J.T. Bent. Acct. Book. Oct. 13th 1871’: he would have been nineteen and about to go up Wadham College, Oxford, to read history. Perhaps, just before setting out for their second trip to Greece in November 1883, one of the couple hit upon the idea that Mabel should keep a record of the trip, and a simple, dark-red leather notebook that has been lying around for twelve summers is the first thing that comes to hand. But from this inconsequential idea flows a nearly twenty-year stream of travel diaries, unparalleled in their scope, and addictive in their appeal. Return from Note 1
Note 2: Still inside this volume is a letter from Mabel’s friend, Mrs H.R. Graham, who writes: “Why oh why don’t you publish it? It simply bristles with epigrams and I am certain would be a great success! You ought to blend the Chronicles into one and I am sure everyone would buy it.’ (This is now possible of course.). The H.R. Grahams were old friends, Graham seconding Theodore’s application for election as a Royal Geographical Society Fellow on 16 June 1890. Return from Note 2
Note 3: Included in the little volume remains a melancholy letter from the unhappy wife of a minor functionary in Skopje. She implores Mabel to visit: ‘Monday morning. My dear Madam, You would really do me a great favour if you would spend an hour or two with me today. Ours is rather a rough kind of home, but I can offer you a cup of tea. I think if you only knew how hard it is for an educated woman to be in exile at such a place as Uskub [Skopje], without either congenial society or habitual surroundings, you would come out of charity. May I fetch you about 4? With compliments to your husband, Faithfully yours, Florence K. Berger’”. Presumably by the end of tea Mabel would have learned that Mrs Berger was herself, in fact, a published author, having written about an earlier stay in Bucharest – A Winter in the City of Pleasure(London, 1877). Return from Note 3
Note 4: The first in the trilogy of notebooks elucidating the Bents’ journey from London, via Karachi and Bushire, to Bahrain; then their extraordinary overland ride, zigzagging north-south, through Persia (Iran). The second volume is a record from just north of Persepolis as far as modern Tabriz. Inside the cover Mabel has written her name and address (as she does for most of her notebooks): “Mabel V.A. Bent, 13 Great Cumberland Place, W., 1889”, and has the following note: “The state of the edge of this book is caused by a mule’s rolling in the saddlebags, which broke the butter tin so that the melted butter got into everything.” It seems that Mabel only set out with these two notebooks; aware of space problems, she contracted her usually neat handwriting, making the transcription of these volumes difficult in places. The third volume tells of the journey home – from Tabriz to London. This third book was bought locally (in Tabriz) and is of poorer quality than the other two that came from London. The binding is poor and some sheets are loose. Tucked into this book is a miscellaneous bill from the ‘Hôtel de l’Europe’, Vladikavkas (capital of North Ossetia-Alania, Russia). Return from Note 4
The ‘Mandragora’ leaf (M. officinarum) Mabel pins to a page within her 1890 notebook (her 5th Chronicle) during the couple’s travels along the Turkish littoral. (The Hellenic Society)
Note 5: This was another of the Bents’ enjoyable, carefree even, expeditions (1890, in which they famously discover the ancient site of Olbaalong the way). On several occasions in this Chronicle (but in no other within the 15-year series) Mabel has leaves occasional spreads of blank pages “for meditations”, suggesting rare hints of intimacy, girlishness too – “Theodore says I can keep the pages I have left out for meditations!” As an example, a ‘mandragora’ leaf remains pinned to one of her pages: “This is said to be a leaf of mandragora or mandrake. I have been given some roots and seen a good many, which are certainly most extraordinary, but I cannot help thinking they are helped into their human form with a knife and then earthed over. Some say after being cut they are planted again to grow a little but as they grow very deep I do not think that likely. I shall believe in them better when I have seen one dug up.” Importantly, this notebook also has tucked within it an extremely rare paper print from one of Mabel’s photographs in the field; no others have appeared to date. Return from Note 5
An extremely rare paper print of a photograph taken in 1890 by Mabel Bent at the site of an inaccessible inscription near Olba in Cilicia; it was tucked into her notebook of that year: “A ladder was needed to read this [inscription], so one had to be built and very cleverly it was managed… a couple of trees were cut and notches cut in the back of them and then some large sticks just laced on with one loop which hitched into the notches. As one side was about a foot and a half longer than the other it had a queer and dangerous twist.” (‘Travel Chronicles of Mabel Bent’, Vol. 1. Oxford, 2006, p.281) (photo: The Hellenic Society).
Note 6: This notebook records the couple’s homeward journey from Great Zimbabwe, via Fort Salisbury (modern Harare) and the Pungwe River to Beira in Mozambique. The volume differs from its predecessor; it was perhaps obtained from a stationer’s en route. The top of page two is stained and Mabel has written next to it ‘Hydrochloric Acid’ – presumably part of the photographic paraphernalia from her mobile ‘darkroom’; she was again expedition photographer. Return from Note 6
Note 7: By ‘Kourbat’ Mabel is referring to the Wadi Kurbab district on the southern Sudanese coast, including the so-called Halaib Triangle. Appointed by the British authorities in Cairo to keep an eye on the expedition was the young Capt. N.M. Smyth (1868-1941) (later Major General Sir Nevill Maskelyne Smyth, VC, KCB). Also with the party, paying his way, was Hugh Alfred Cholmley (1876-1944) of Place Newton, Rillington, Yorkshire; Hugh was a shooter on the trip – photographs and wildlife, especially birds: “While here [near Sawakin al-Qadim] we got a few Sand-Grouse, two young Shrikes, and an Egyptian Goatsucker. One day while near the sea I saw two black Ducks, which I am sure were Velvet Scoters – the large yellow beak and black plumage showed distinctly, but they were too far off for a shot.” (Cholmley, A.J. (1897). ‘Notes on the Birds of the Western Coast of the Red Sea’, Ibis 39(2): 196-209). The last four pages of this diary narrate the couple’s short stay in Athens on the way home, including a visit to the first Olympic Games of the modern era (April 6–15, 1896). The notebook has its cost price written in pencil in the front: one shilling (c. £2.50). Return from Note 7
The Bents’ hospital bill from Aden, 1897. Folded into her notebook of that year, it is signed by their Goanese physician, Dr Dias (The Hellenic Society).
Note 8: Also, as a (paying) guest, on this trip to Sokotra was (later Sir) Ernest Nathaniel Bennett (1865-1947), academic, politician, explorer and writer; he made the sensible decision not to join the party’s onward trek into the Aden hinterlands. Assisting the Bents on this journey was their long-term dragoman, and friend, Mathew Simos from the Cycladic island of Anafi; from the time they met (the winter of 1883/4) there were only three adventures in which he did not take part: 1889 (Persia), 1891 (Great Zimbabwe), and 1895 (the Bents’ second visit to the Hadramaut). Noteworthy in this Chronicle are several rare inclusions: a unique ‘contract’ for the party’s passage from Socotra back up to Aden; a hospital bill; and a letter from the Aden authorities regarding their onward journey. Mabel was too ill to update her diary for their last few days east of Aden, but she made an effort, the relaxed style of the experienced traveller in the Sokotra sections contrasting with the feverishness and despair of what she was able to write. Her last diary entry in the field was 16 March 1897. She concluded her memoir later, but does not indicate where or when, ending her final journey with Theodore with the lines: “At last a M.M. [steamer] came from Madagascar with room for us, so one afternoon I was taken up and an ambulance litter was brought beside my bed and I was laid in it and carried down to the sea…” Return from Note 8
[A note on the labels pasted on the front covers. All Mabel’s Chronicles shown above, except for the 1883/4 volume (The Cyclades), appear to be cut from printed paper featuring a distinctive, narrow strip of zigzags. This is curious (as the notebooks cover a period of fifteen years or so), suggesting perhaps that the labels were pasted on at a later date – at around the same time? The handwriting could be Mabel’s, or that of her niece Violet Ethel ffolliott (1882-1932), who gave the notebooks to the Hellenic Society (Mabel died in 1929), or even a cataloguer at the Hellenic Society.]
(We are delighted to post here a translation (by the author) of an article on some traditional musical instruments enjoyed so much by celebrity explorers Theodore and Mabel Bent when they visited the Cycladic island of Tinos in March 1884. Dr Chiou’s article originally appeared (March 2024) in the newsletter of the Society for Tinian Studies.)
Tinos, the villages of Dío Choriá and Triandáros. A postcard, photographer unknown, printed by Krikelli – ‘Bibliohartemboriki’, c. early 20th century (some 20 years only after the Bents’ visit in March 1884). Reproduced in A. Kontogeorgis (2000), ‘Tinos of Yesterday and Today’, p. 30 (PIIET/Sillogos Ysternioton Tinou).
Theodore Bent and his wife Mabel Virginia Anna Bent were 19th-century British explorers who travelled the Cyclades. On a sunny Saturday afternoon in March 1884, they found themselves in the port of the island of Tinos (or Tenos), coming from Mykonos. It was the Saturday before Carnival Sunday. On the evening of the same day, koukouyiéroi (masqueraders) roamed around the narrow streets of Agios Nikolaos, as the present-day Chóra was called at that time. For the next three days, the Bents mounted mules and toured the Tinian hinterland. On Carnival Sunday they visited Xómbourgo and Loutrá and returned to Chóra. On ‘Kathará Deftéra’ (the first Monday in Lent, literally ‘Clean Monday’), 1884, they climbed up to Kechrovoúni, visiting the Monastery of Kechrovoúni, Arnádos village, and ending up in the village of Dío Choriá. On Tuesday they reached the village of Pýrgos, after making a stop at the villages of Kardianí and Ystérnia, in the north-western part of the island. Mabel writes in her diary that on Wednesday, 5th March, they returned to the bay of Ystérnia, where they boarded the steamer that would take them to the nearby island of Andros.
The above information comes from what Bent himself recorded in his classic travelogue The Cyclades, or Life among Insular Greeks, published in 1885, and which is still in print today, and from the account in Mabel’s ‘Chronicles’. Thanks to Bent’s observant and meticulous descriptions, we have the following account of how the inhabitants of the village of Dío Choriá spent their ‘Kathará Deftéra’ at the end of 19th century:
Close to Arnades are two villages, called δύοχωριά, or the two places, being quite close together; and here we came in for some of the gaiety incident on the first day of Lent; the sound of music and revelry filled the valley, and from afar off we descried the cause. All the villagers had turned out on the roofs, and on this flat surface were dancing away vigorously. As no other flat space occurs in or near the village they are driven to make a ballroom on their roof. […]
The dancers had put a flag up, and spread a white cloth on the roof for their repast, which consisted of olives, onions, bread, and wine in a large amphora. They were dancing to the tune of a sabouna, and what to us was a new instrument, called a monosampilos, and consisting of a small gourd fixed at one end of two reeds and a cow’s horn at the other. The music produced by this instrument was quaint and shrill, like that of a bagpipe or the sabouna, which in this case was made of the skin of a goat, with all the hair left on, so that when the musician put it down it looked quite alive, and palpitated visibly.
For a long time they continued to dance the inevitable syrtos, until they had had lusty and long pulls at their amphora of wine – and the wine of Tenos is by no means light, for here they made, and make still, the far-famed Malvasianor, or, as we know it better, Malmsey wine. […] Then they started a dance called by them ‘the carnival dance’ (ἀποκρεωτικός), which they said they were privileged to dance on the first day of Lent. It was a very amusing one: eight men took part in it with arms crossed, and moved slowly in a semicircle, with a sort of bounding step, resembling a mazurka. Occasionally the leader took a long stride, by way of adding point to the dance, but they never indulged in the acrobatic features of the syrtos, and never went so very fast; the singing as they danced was the chief feature and fascination of this carnival dance, and their voices, as they moved round and round, to the shrill accompanying music, had a remarkable effect. The words of their song, which I took down afterwards, formed a sort of rhyming alphabetical love song. It is needless to say that A stood for love (ἀγάπη). Θ spoke of the death (θάνατος) which would be courted if that M or apple (μῆλος) of Paradise was obdurate. P stood for ῥόδον, the rose, like which she smelt. Ψ was the lucky flea (ψύλλος) which could crawl over her adorable frame, and so on, till Ω closed the song and the dance with great emphasis, imploring for a favourable answer to the suit.
This vivid description is a valuable document in terms of the history of the bagpipe (tsaboúna) on Tinos. It confirms the use of the tsaboúna (pronounced there as ‘saboúna’) as an instrument played at feasts during the Carnival period, and with which they performed not only tunes to the rhythm of the syrtós, but also to the tune of the ‘ἀποκρεωτικός’ (apokreotikós) dance. The latter can be associated with the ‘apokrianós’ dance, also performed, until the middle of the 20th century, in the nearby village of Triantáros. Bent also gives us information about the morphology of the tsaboúna (a goatskin bag with the hair on the outside), and conveys an important account of a rare folk hornpipe, which the 19th-century revellers from Dío Choriá, who sold it to Bent, called ‘monotsábouno’ (while villagers from Ystérnia called it ‘kelkéza’). We are fortunate that this very same instrument survives intact to the present day in the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford.
However, if one has to choose the most important contribution of Bent’s testimony above, then it must be that it offers us the earliest starting point – a terminus ante quem – for research into the tsaboúna on Tinos. Of course, it can be reasonably assumed that the tradition of the tsaboúna on the island is much older, being a manifestation of the wider, older spread of the bagpipe (áskavlos) in the Aegean Sea area. However, thanks to Bent, the tsaboúna is now undoubtedly and tangibly recorded as part of the Tinian musical tradition.
The thread of this tradition connects the unknown tsaboúna player (tsabouniéris) of Dío Choriá of 1884 with the tsaboúna players of the 1970s, who played the ‘saboúnia persistently in Carnival season’ in the village of Arnados, and also reaches back to the last tsabouniéris of the 20th-century generation of musicians, for example Yiórgos Tzanoulínos, or ‘Krínos’, from Falatádos. The thread of this tradition goes ahead with the reappearance of the tsaboúna on Tinos in the second decade of the 21st century, in the context of, among others, events such as the Tinos World Music Festival 2021; The 18th Aegean Folk Wind Instruments Meeting (28-30 September 2022, Kea Island); and during New Year’s carols on Tinos at Chóra and Falatádos (2022 and 2023).
So, what more enjoyable occasion than to continue the revival of the Tinian tsaboúna, from the place where Bent first records for us, at a ‘Kathará Deftéra’ celebration in March 1884, with a tsaboúna party and ‘apokrianós’ dance in the square of Dío Choriá, more than a century and a half later!
7th Tinos World Music Festival, Tinos, 2-4 July 2021, Sunday, 4 July 2021, Part B: Tsambouna – The Askavlos of the Cyclades (https://itip.gr/events/twmf2021/).
Apergis, Savas 2007. The ‘Apokrianos’ of Triantaros, newspaper ed. by the Association of Triandarites Mandata, vol. 28, Dec-Feb 2007: 6-7.
Baines, Anthony 1960. Bagpipes: 45. Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.
Danousis, Konstantinos (ed.) 2005. Tradition and Memory. With the bow and the pen of Kostas Panorios, publication of the Society for Tinian Studies and the Brotherhood of Tinian Cardianiotes, The Holy Trinity: 30-31.
Moschona, Styliani 1975. Collection of folklore material from the village of Arnados, on the island of Tinos, in the prefecture of Cyclades. Archive of primary folklore material – Collection of manuscripts (NKUA), no. 2413.
Two other Bent Archive articles that might interest you:
the island bagpipes (tsabouna) played by Yannis Pantazis of Santorini.
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