Travelling during summer meant that the voyage to Greece was calm. The eldest children took the trip well, but the youngest was restless and needed the constant care of Katerina and her mother.
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ATHENS, 1838
Upon arrival in Greece, the family was welcomed into the paternal home of Andreas, but it was crowded. The space was limited.
Andreas immediately searched for accommodation and found a small three-bedroom home with an attic near the Acropolis of Athens. From the funds left over, Andreas bought the home for 500 gold sovereigns.
There was land on the house for future improvements. The allocation of space was that the children would share two rooms, Inna would have one room, and Katerina and Andreas would live in the attic.
There was a small shed in the backyard that was made of wood and with a corrugated iron roof that would be the future workshop for Andreas. Andreas immediately went to work as a hat-maker to support his family.
Although Andreas was fifty-eight years old, his hair was still full and brown with some white hairs near his sideburns. He was fit from the legacy of the wars and was quite alert. Katerina was forty-two yet still a handsome woman and well kept. Inna was spritely and adored caring for the children.
Andreas made a modest living but not like the living his father had made, making hats. The customers of Kostas Kapelis were either dead or had moved on.
As for the politics at the time, Andreas was advised that King Othon was disliked. There were demands by the people of Greece for an effective constitution.
Andreas was approached again to involve himself with the cause. Although he had trepidation to take part in some form of protest or uprising against the king, Katerina stepped in and made it clear it was his moral duty.
By being so close as a couple, Andreas spoke Russian very well. Likewise, Katerina spoke even better Greek. The children were fortunate that they spoke both languages well.
As the hat-maker to the regents, Andreas took part again in imparting intelligence to the resistance.
Andreas found a wholesaler of fruit and vegetables and would work there at night, packing hessian bags with fruit and vegetables six days a week for extra money.
In 1843, the king granted the wishes of the people of Greece and approved a constitution.
Andreas had advised the protagonists from the intelligence he had gathered that there were unfair negotiations and tactics being employed by the king. The elections were riddled with unfair conduct, fraud, bribery, corruption, and abuse of the process and sovereign power.
The king also manipulated the Orthodox Church and the hierarchy of the church to accept his position or he would expose the conduct of senior members of the church, eroding the people’s faith.
During this time, Greece suffered from poverty and external meddling. Andreas did not expect this to happen to his country.
In 1842, Andreas and Katerina had their last child, a baby boy, which was quite unexpected. Andreas was sixty-two when he had his last child, and Katerina was forty-six.
The birth of his child gave him a new lease of life. His eyes were as blue as the Mediterranean.
Katerina took one look at the boy and said to Andreas, ‘We have been blessed with Kostas, a part of your father’s soul.’
Kostas was christened and baptised in the local church. Andreas’s mother was overjoyed that she had a grandson named after her late husband and the father of Andreas.
The civil unrest in Greece between 1842 and 1850 was relentless. Andreas struggled to make a living.
As Russia predicted earlier about the meddling of Britain and France and the appointment of their choice of a king of Greece, the anti-monarchists swelled to a number greater than those who supported this foreign king.
King Othon was playing a dangerous role in pitting one internal Greek political faction against another to achieve his aims. Andreas made it clear to the anti-monarchists that King Othon was deceitful and not to be trusted.
At the request of Russia, the political powers within Greece were requested to ally themselves with Russia in the Crimean War. The generals, soldiers, and the people felt a moral and religious obligation to support Russia. The king was against this position, being told what to do by Britain.
Despite the king’s disapproval, Greece sent an armada of its Greek navy to assist the Russians; however, the armada was blockaded by the British Royal Navy from taking part in the war or attacking the Ottoman Empire. This conduct was repeated by the British in 1854.
As this political pantomime unfolded, scandalous conduct was also unfolding. There was anger and antagonism vented by the Greek people back in Athens.
There was an influx of foreign troops in Athens, bringing with them cholera. An epidemic soon followed in Athens, causing the death of many Athenians. God was kind to Andreas and his family. The disease passed over his home and no one contracted cholera, like a blessing from God.
The Peloponnese was alight with vehemence in relation to the conduct of Britain and the obviously paralysed king of Greece.
King Othon had married Amalia of Oldenburg, and she stood as the queen of Greece. Queen Amalia was a cold woman. A smile would never grace her lips.
She was proud of her station in life, and despite the obvious poverty suffered by the people of Greece, she lived in the lap of splendour and greed. There was no passion in what she did, and it was at odds with the passion of her subjects. Queen Amalia was disliked even by the monarchists. It was hard to tolerate her conduct.
In 1861 the antimonarchists made an unsuccessful attempt to take her life. King Othon was now in grave fear of his own life and that of his queen.
The couple had no children. Some had quipped that no one would think of being amorous with the Queen of Ice.
Andreas had advised the leaders that his intelligence was clear that the king would visit the Peloponnese shortly.
The king compounded the problem by dismissing his prime minister, Constantine Kanaris, a highly decorated former admiral of the Greek navy. He, as a decent man, was supported by the politicians at the time and true to his country.
The move by the king to take supreme control of Greece backfired, resulting in a catastrophic rebellion against the decision made by the king.
In 1862, whilst on a visit to the Peloponnese, the leaders of a fresh coup intended to cause harm to the king and the queen.
The king took heed of this warning and swiftly boarded a British warship back to Bavaria, where he died in exile in 1867 at the age of fifty-two. Many said that he died at such a young age from a broken heart as he yearned to return to Greece to feel the warm sun and its glow in summer.
Greece was now in an uncertain state of a provincial government ruling the land. One view was that there was one error made in the constitution that was overlooked by those who framed the law. The other view was more sinister—that the constitution was deliberately drafted with the error.
The error was that the constitution made provision for King Othon’s to be succeeded by his two younger brothers and their descendants, who lived in Bavaria.
The error, whether deliberate or accidental, was catastrophic for the people of Greece. It meant that Greece would always be subject to a monarchy.
The years passed, and Lemonyia died. Andreas was aging, and his children had finished their schooling and, one by one, commenced their own lives.
Andreas ensured that his youngest child, Kostas, had been trained by him in the skill of hat-making. Once Kostas had reached the age of ten in 1852, Andreas spent time with his son, teaching him hat-making.
Boris, who was much older than Kostas, was not interested in further schooling and joined the military forces of Greece.
By 1862, Kostas became a fine hat-maker at the age of twenty. He had been to school until the age of sixteen and was fluent in Greek and Russian
and could speak a little Turkish that his father had taught him.
Andreas was eighty-two years old, and life was taking its toll on his body. He would seldom leave the house. Rather than spend time at the local coffee lounge with his friends, discussing politics, playing cards or backgammon, or having a coffee and dessert after his meals, he stayed at home.
Andreas sat in front of the fire in winter or on the porch in summer, reading the newspaper or books to pass his time away but always keeping a keen eye on his son Kostas.
Although Kostas was not rich, he was making enough money to support his aging father and mother.
Greece had been without a king, and there seemed contentment in the homeland.
Whilst other countries in Europe and the United States were enjoying the fruits of the Industrial Revolution and advancements in construction and infrastructure, Greece remained a rural-based country, in poverty, and healing from the wounds of over 400 years of wars, both internal and external, and occupation.
In 1862, there were issues raised on the succession, if any, of a new king of Greece. Prince Alfred, the son of Queen Victoria of England, was positioned as a candidate. He was powerfully rejected by the political powers in Greece.
A young Danish prince, George, became the next king of Greece, King George I, upon the agreement that his sons would be baptised Greek Orthodox.
There was also fierce opposition to anyone taking the throne in Greece.
As he matured, King George I was a balding man with reddish hair, green eyes, and a very long and thin reddish handlebar moustache.
The powers of the king were significantly reduced under the constitution as a doorstop to his powers as a monarch.
The prime ministers were either liberals like Trikoupis then Venizelos or conservatives like Deligiannis or Zaimis.
Trikoupis was regarded by many who had fought in the uprising of 1821 and following as a turncoat and traitor for his sympathetic and close ties with Britain.
Deligiannis was admired for his robust doctrine of the Great Idea to advance Greece with nationalism and pride and, of course, no king. He had a liberal approach to politics.
Deligiannis was still annoyed at the fact that Lord Elgin, seventh Earl of Elgin, with the endorsement of the British, had removed the Parthenon Marbles from Athens to London between 1801 and 1813. He tried unsuccessfully to retrieve them.
The Parthenon marbles were safely stored in the British Museum. The payments this Scottish nobleman had received for the sale of the marbles was to satisfy his lifestyle and other debts he had acquired in his life.
When the old man Andreas would spend time with Kostas, he would tell him stories of his family, his grandfathers and grandmothers, and those before him so Kostas could retell the tales of these lives gone before him to, in turn, tell his children.
In 1872, at the age of ninety, Andreas passed away from the effects of ill health and old age. For a hat-maker, he had lived a most exciting and extraordinary yet difficult life.
Kostas was now busy as a hat-maker and was thirty years old. He was introduced by a friend to a lovely local girl named Aphrodite, named after the ancient goddess of beauty. The introduction was a formal event known as a proxy for marriage.
Kostas and Aphrodite enjoyed each other’s company from the outset, and the courtship blossomed. Aphrodite was twenty years of age and from a working-class family who was honourable and decent.
Aphrodite was not as beautiful as his mother when his mother was her age, but her inner soul was delightful. She was a natural young lady.
In 1873, the couple were married in the Orthodox tradition. Kostas continued to make hats. In 1874, the couple were blessed with their first child, who was a girl. Kostas named the first child after his mother, Katerina, in keeping with tradition. In 1877, the couple had their second child, a girl, and named her after Aphrodite’s mother, Athena. In 1885, the couple had a third child, a girl named Dimitra.
During this period, Kostas could see that the poverty in Athens and the constant social and political turmoil was upsetting the people of Athens and making the existence for his family unbearable.
The only areas that were prospering in Greece were the sale of currants, raisins, and tobacco to overseas markets. Some very clever businessmen began to operate ships, and others became merchants from Piraeus. Many Greeks started to migrate overseas to the United States and other faraway places.
In 1887, Kostas finally confronted Aphrodite with a series of alternate proposals involving their future.
Kostas said, ‘We can stay here and face poverty. We can travel overseas to the unknown and leave everyone we love behind. We can try to commence another business. The final alternative is to return to my paternal home in Vrostena in the Peloponnese and grow raisins, currants, and tobacco leaves on our land for sale on the market and have some farm animal to feed the family. I leave the choice to you.’
Aphrodite thought about the options very deeply, spending days agonising about the choices presented to her by Kostas. A week later, she approached Kostas late in the evening after the children had been put to be bed. She said, ‘Husband, we will return to your village and do as you say. Leaving our homeland would be an insult to your late father for all he has done to free this country. The uncertainty of the other options leaves me uneasy.’
Kostas said, ‘That is the choice I knew in my heart you would make. A sympathetic wife is her husband’s best possession.’
Kostas and Aphrodite advised their respective families of their future plans and were given well wishes for their difficult choice.
Kostas asked Aphrodite if his mother, Katerina, could join them.
The answer was a resounding yes.
‘I would not go anywhere without my mother-in-law!’ exclaimed Aphrodite.
Kostas bought a used, multi-seated large horse-drawn carriage and an old mare to pack his entire life’s belongings and to seat his family and mother. It took Kostas four full days to load their possessions onto the carriage.
Vrostena was 130 miles from Athens. The journey involved mainly a coastal road along the Corinthian Sea coastline then up into the mountains of the Vouraikos Gorge, where the 1821 revolution had commenced.
As the family left Athens bound for the village of Vrostena, Aphrodite’s family openly wept as they farewelled Kostas and his family.
After many stops and other minor hindrances, the family arrived in the village.
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VROSTENA, 1887
The village was most picturesque. It was approximately one thousand metres above sea level. The mountains produced a constant cool breeze.
There were an abundance of pine and other trees enveloping the village. There was a small square with a coffee lounge full of activity.
It was late May when the family arrived, and there were beautiful rock cherries lining the roadway.
An old man with a sun-worn face was attending to his flock of sheep with his dog by his side.
Kostas stopped and asked the man, ‘I am Kostas Kapelis. I have a paternal home here in this village. Could you direct me to the house?’
The old man said, ‘I don’t know which house it is, but the town’s prefect is at the coffee lounge, and he knows everything about this area.’
Kostas drove the carriage to the square, stepped off the carriage, and entered the square. There were several men there drinking coffee and talking. The men stopped what they were doing when Kostas approached them.
He said to all, ‘I am Kostas Kapelis from Athens. This is my father’s village. I need assistance to find my paternal home. Can you help me?’
The prefect, named Spiros, said, ‘We have all heard about your father. I will take you to the home immediately. I think your wife and your family need some nourishment and food. Please tell them to leave the carriage and come here to the coffee lounge, and we
will make sure they are looked after. They have finally come home.’
Spiros walked through a dirt mountain track and passed a pebbled road. The men walked for about half an hour. At the bend of a track and the end of the road was a large wooden cabin with spider webs and long grass and weeds in the front yard; otherwise, it had withstood the absence of its masters and the weather.
The front door was locked. The prefect had a key to the front door, as he did for every house in the village for safety and security of the village. The key was a long silver key with four joints, like a cross.
Once the door was open, the cabin was very dusty, had spiderwebs, and smelled of a pungent, musty aroma. There were some exposed tiles in the ceiling.
The uncovered roof had allowed the weather to come in, the bedrooms were equally as dirty, but the floor was in good condition and had weathered time.
There was a chimney carrying an open wood fireplace in the lounge area. There were four bedrooms and a small annex and kitchen area in the cabin.
Both Kostas and the prefect walked through the house and into the backyard, where a garden had been covered by weeds and grass.
Both agreed there was much work to do but the house was liveable after a thorough cleaning and the roof repaired.
The prefect said, ‘Kostas, whatever you need, the townsfolk and I are here to help. You are now one of us. Welcome.’
Kostas walked back with the prefect, talking about Greece, the politics, and what had happened post the revolution. Neither man was pleased with the ultimate result; however, they remained hopeful.
Kostas, accompanied by the prefect, reached the square. The prefect sat in his chair and waved the carriage goodbye as Kostas drove the carriage to the cabin.
The family cuddled up and slept in the carriage, whilst Kostas slept under a blanket under a pine tree to give the family room to sleep in the carriage.
The next few weeks were spent by Kostas, Aphrodite, and Katerina removing the dust and spider webs from the house.
Kapelis- The Hatmaker Page 6