The Near East: Dalmatia, Greece and Constantinople — Edition Insights

A Traveler's Eye for the Everyday

Hichens excels at capturing the texture of daily life. In Thebes, he notes the “parade of horses, mules, and donkeys” during a military inspection, and the “mysterious compound” cooking in the tents of Romani travelers. These details are not mere color; they ground the narrative in a specific time and place. The author's attention to the mundane—the murmur of waters, the voices of peasants—creates a sense of immediacy that balances the weight of historical allusion.

His description of the Romani encampment is particularly telling: “they pitch their tents usually on the outskirts of the villages, staying for days or weeks, as the luck serves them.” The phrase “as the luck serves them” hints at a sympathetic, unsentimental view of itinerant life. Hichens does not romanticize; he observes, and his observations often carry a quiet irony.

The Weight of the Past

Hichens frequently juxtaposes the present with the ancient past. Thebes, once the city of Hercules, Oedipus, and Epaminondas, is now “just a busy village on the flank of a hill.” The contrast is stark, but Hichens does not dwell on decline. Instead, he turns to the Lion of Chaeronea, a monument that “testifies to the grief of men long since dead, to their anger, even to their despair, but not to their cowardice or shame.”

The lion, restored in 1902, becomes a focal point for Hichens' meditation on memory and honor. He notes that “for long years the lion lay broken in pieces and buried in the earth,” yet its resurrection allows it to continue its testimony. This passage is one of the most emotionally resonant in the excerpts, showing Hichens' ability to weave personal response with historical narrative.

Structure and Movement

The book's structure follows a clear geographical arc: from Dalmatia to Greece, then to Constantinople. Within each region, Hichens moves from city to site, often by car or on foot. The excerpts show a pattern of arrival, observation, and reflection. At Thebes, he descends from his car, unpacks provisions, and is immediately engaged by a local. The encounter is casual, yet it leads to a broader commentary on Greek curiosity.

Hichens' movement is not merely physical; it is also temporal. He shifts from the present scene to ancient history, as when he lists Thebes' legendary associations before noting its modern ordinariness. This oscillation between then and now gives the narrative a layered quality, inviting the reader to see the landscape as palimpsest.

The Role of the Illustrations

The book is illustrated by Jules Guérin, whose paintings are listed in the front matter. Titles such as “The Mosque of Suleiman at Constantinople” and “The Parthenon at Athens” suggest that the images complement the text's focus on iconic sites. Guérin's work, reproduced as frontispiece and plates, likely provides a visual counterpoint to Hichens' prose.

While the excerpts do not describe the illustrations directly, the list of plates indicates a deliberate pairing of word and image. The reader may find that Guérin's paintings—often depicting monuments in their landscape—reinforce Hichens' own method of situating the past within the present. The collaboration between author and illustrator was a common feature of early twentieth-century travel books, and here it seems integral to the work's appeal.

As you read The Near East, pay attention to how Hichens balances the specific and the general. His best passages arise from concrete encounters—a question from a stranger, a view of a monument—that then open onto wider reflections. The book rewards a slow reading, one that lingers on the details of daily life as much as on the ruins of antiquity. Let the illustrations guide your eye, but let the text guide your imagination.