The Crown of Hellas in Peril: King Otto Compelled to Yield to the Constitutional Will of Athens

ATHENS, 3rd September — The tidings that have reached our distant station from the Levant carry a weight of portent seldom felt even in these wolf-haunted passes. King Otto of Greece, the fair-haired son of Bavaria, has been compelled by an uprising of his own subjects to grant a constitution, thereby transforming the Hellenic kingdom from an absolute monarchy into a constitutional one. The self-same streets that once resounded with the clamour of liberation from the Ottoman yoke have now rung with cries for liberty of a different sort, and the young sovereign has bent before the storm, as reeds upon the Ilissus bend before the mountain gale.

From the reports of our correspondents in the Piræus, it appears that the disaffection had long simmered beneath the surface of public life, fed by the intrigues of factions and the heavy hand of Bavarian counsellors. The army, that faithful but neglected instrument of royal power, refused to march against the people, and the palace found itself isolated amidst a sea of discontent. The King, seeing the catastrophe that threatened his throne, yielded to the inevitable, and on the very steps of his palace, swore to uphold the new charter, his voice perhaps drowned by the acclamations of the multitude, who now seek to inscribe their own will upon the tablet of the law.

For us, who traverse the wild roads of the Carpathians and report upon the hazards of travel, this Grecian revolt carries a singular admonition. The traveller who ventures beyond the familiar confines of his own province must ever be alert to the sudden shifts of political fortune, for the very ground beneath his feet may be shaken by convulsions far removed from his origin. A passport that was honoured at dawn may be worthless by dusk, and the coach that sets forth in peace may find its path barred by barricades before the setting of the sun. The wise voyager, like the prudent mountaineer, scans the horizon not only for storms of nature but for the dark clouds of human passion that gather with equal suddenness.

And yet, as I pen these lines by the flickering light of a tallow candle in the staging house at Scarlet Pass, I cannot but reflect upon the strange symmetry of fates. The King of Greece, though his crown was purchased with the blood of heroes, has learned that the sceptre of power is a brittle reed when not rooted in the affections of the people. We, too, who carry the mails through the Borgo and the Argeș, know that our safety depends not upon the strength of our locks nor the speed of our horses, but upon the goodwill of those who dwell in the shadows of the forest. A constitution, whether of parchment or of custom, is but a fragile bulwark against the wildness of the world.