did they regard them with any other feeling than that of disgust and horror; never did the polished Athenians admit any spectacle of that sort within their walls, notwithstanding the example of their conquerors, and of some of their own degenerate countrymen; and when a citizen once thought proper to propose publicly the introduction of these games, in order, as he said, that Athens might not be inferior to Corinth, "Let us first," cried an Athenian, with vivacity, "let us first overthrow the altar of Pity, which our ancestors set up more than a thousand years ago."

CHAPTER VI.

The Olympic Games.

"Sunt quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum
Collegisse juvat; metaque fervidis
Evitata rotis, palmaque nobilis

Terrarum dominos evehit ad Deos."

Horat. i. 1.

THE Olympic course was divided into two parts-the stadium, and the hippodromus; the former of which was an elevated open causeway, six hundred feet long, being appropriated to the foot-races and most of the combats; while the latter was reserved for the chariot and horse-races. Pausanias has transmitted to us an accurate description of both, particularly of the hippodromus; but instead of a detail which would be little interesting to the general reader, we prefer copying the following animated picture of the scene exhibited at Olympia on the morning when the games were opened. "At the first dawn of day we repaired to the stadium, which was already filled with athletæ, exercising themselves in preparatory skirmishes, and surrounded by a multitude of spectators; while others in still greater numbers were stationing themselves confusedly on a hill, in form of an amphitheatre, above the course. Chariots were flying over the plain; on all sides were heard the sound of trumpets and the neighing of

horses, mingled with the shouts of the multitude. But when we were able to divert our eyes for a moment from this spectacle, and to contrast with the tumultuous agitations of the public joy the repose and silence of nature, how delightful were the impressions we experienced from the serenity of the sky, the delightful coolness of the air from the Alpheus, which here forms a magnificent canal, and the fertile fields, illumed and embellished by the first rays of the sun!"*

The candidates, having undergone an examination, and proved to the satisfaction of the judges that they were freemen, that they were Grecians by birth, and that they were clear from all infamous and immoral stains, were led to the statue of Jupiter within the senate-house. This image, says Pausanias, was better calculated than any other to strike terror into wicked men, for he was represented with thunder in both hands; and, as if that were not a sufficient intimation of the wrath of the deity against those who should forswear themselves, at his feet there was a plate of brass containing terrible denunciations against the perjured. Before this statue the candidates, their relations, and instructers swore on the bleeding limbs of the victims that they were duly qualified to engage, solemnly vowing not to employ any unfair means, but to observe all the laws relating to the Olympic games. After this they returned to the stadium, and took their stations by lot, when the herald demanded-" Can any one reproach these athlete with having been in bonds, or with leading an irregular life?" A profound silence generally followed this interrogatory, and the combatants became exalted in the estimation of the assembly, not only by this universal testimony to their moral character, but by the consideration that they were the free unsullied champions of the respective states to which they belonged; not engaged in any vulgar struggle for interested or ordinary objects, but incited to competition by a noble love of fame, and a desire to uphold the renown of their native cities in the presence of assembled Greece. Such being the qualities required before they could enter the lists, it was some distinction

* Anacharsis, cap. 38.

even to have been an unsuccessful competitor, for each might truly exclaim in the words of Achelous, when defeated by Hercules,

Non tam

Turpe fuit vinci quam contendisse decorum.

Filled with anxiety, their friends gathered round them, stimulating their exertions, or affording them advice, until the moment arrived when the trumpet sounded. At this signal the runners started off amid the cries and clamour of the excited multitude, whose vociferations did not cease until the herald procured silence by his trumpet, and proclaimed the name and abode of the winner. The following is a translation of an epigram upon this subject in the Greek anthology, the hyperbole of which, when the poet describes the swiftness of the victor, may be compared with Virgil's upon Camilla. It must be borne in mind that Tarsus, the birthplace of the winner, was founded by Perseus, who in old fables is represented as having had wings upon his feet.

ON ARIAS OF TARSUS, VICTOR IN THE STADIUM.

The speed of Arias, victor in the race,
Recalls the founder of his rative place,
For, able in the course with him to vie,
Like him he seems on feather'd feet to fly.
The barrier when he quits, the dazzled sight
In vain essays to catch him in his flight.
Lost is the racer thro' the whole career,
Till victor at the goal he reappear.

The prize of the simple foot-race in the stadium, as it was the most ancient, was deemed the most honourable of any; so much so, that the name of the victor was generally associated with the Olympiad, and quoted with it by writers and historians; a distinction which must have been more attractive than any other to a people so passionately fond of fame as the Greeks. To vary the diversions of the stadium, foot-races were afterward performed by children, by armed men, and by athlete, who ran twelve times the length of the stadium. None of the victors were crowned

till the last day of the festival, but at the end of the race they carried off a branch of palm, an emblem, says Plu

tarch, of their insuperable vigour and resolution in triumphing over difficulties, since it is the nature of that plant to rise and flourish against all endeavours to bend or suppress it. In order to excite the greater emulation, the olive crowns as well as the palm-branches were deposited on a table of gold and ivory, placed within view of the competitors and of the whole assemblage. On his receiving the palm, every one pressed forward to see and congratulate the victor; his friends and relations embraced him with tears of joy, and, lifting him on their shoulders, held him up to the applauses of the spectators, who strewed handfuls of flowers over him.

The gymnastic exercises, which bore the name of the Pentathlon, consisted usually of leaping, running, quoiting, darting, and wrestling, the precise form and manner of which it is unnecessary to detail; though we may notice, before we quit this part of the subject, that the leapers performed to the sound of flutes playing Pythian airs, and that they seem to have had poles or some artificial assistance in jumping. This, indeed, would be necessary, if we are to credit an inscription, cited by Eustathius, on the statue of Phaulus of Crotona, which asserts that he had leaped a distance of fifty-five feet. Chionis, the Spartan, is said to have accomplished fifty-two.

The cæstus, a cruel and dangerous species of boxing, in which the hands and arms were furnished with gauntlets, loaded with lead or iron, was revived in the twentythird Olympiad; but, as the victory in this game was frequently stained with blood, it was never held in much estimation by the Greeks, who evinced in their public sports none of the sanguinary ferocity that characterized the Romans. Damoxenus, a champion of the cæstus, having slain his adversary under circumstances of much cruelty and treachery, was not only refused the wreath, but driven from the stadium with every mark of infamy and indignation, while his deceased victim was solemnly crowned by the judges. The combatants in this exercise wore headpieces of brass for their defence, notwithstanding which they were often terribly mutilated, though they might escape with life and limb. The following epigram of Lucilius informs us that a cæstus-fighter once became so disfigured

that, being unable to establish his identity, he lost his inheritance to a younger brother.

ON A CONQUEROR IN THE CÆSTUs.

This victor, glorious in his olive wreath,

Had once eyes, eyebrows, nose, and ears, and teeth,
But turning cæstus-champion, to his cost,
These and, still worse, his heritage he lost!
For by his brother sued-disown'd-at last,
Confronted with his picture, he was cast.*

Aulus Gellius relates a singular story of one of the athletæ, a confirmed stammerer, who, being a candidate for one of the four sacred crowns, and perceiving the officer who was appointed to match the combatants fraudulently endeavouring to put a wrong lot upon him, cried out against it with such vehemence, that the impediment being suddenly cured, he continued for the rest of his life to speak without hesitation.

These gymnastic exercises, being the most ancient, took precedence of the horse and chariot-races, though the competitors in the latter were, generally speaking, men of higher rank and consideration than the athlete, and the spectacle was much more pompous and magnificent. The richest individuals of Greece made a study and a merit of producing the species of horses best adapted for the course; thus accomplishing the original object of the institution, which probably had in view the improvement of the breed: and even sovereigns and republics frequently enrolled themselves among the competitors, intrusting their glory to able horsemen and charioteers. At one festival, seven chariots were entered in the name of the celebrated Alcibiades, three of which gained prizes, and furnished an occasion to Euripides for inscribing a complimentary ode to the conqueror. Over a bar that ran across the entrance of the lists was placed a brazen dolphin, and upon an altar in the middle of the barrier stood an eagle of the same metal. By means of a machine, put in motion by the president of the games, the eagle suddenly sprang up into the air with its wings extended, so as to be seen by all the spectators; and at the same moment the dolphin sank to the ground, which was

* Anthol. lib. ii. cap. 1. ep. 1.