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+Project Gutenberg’s Buried Cities: Pompeii, Olympia, Mycenae, by Jennie Hall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Buried Cities: Pompeii, Olympia, Mycenae
+
+Author: Jennie Hall
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2004 [EBook #9628]
+Last Updated: September 5, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BURIED CITIES, ALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+BURIED CITIES
+
+BY
+
+JENNIE HALL
+
+Author of “Four Old Greeks,” Etc. Instructor in History and English in
+the Francis W. Parker School, Chicago
+
+With Many Drawings and Photographs From Original Sources
+
+
+
+The publishers are grateful to the estate of Miss Jennie Hall and to her
+many friends for assistance in planning the publication of this book.
+Especial thanks are due to Miss Nell C. Curtis of the Lincoln School,
+New York City, for helping to finish Miss Hall’s work of choosing the
+pictures, and to Miss Irene I. Cleaves of the Francis Parker School,
+Chicago, who wrote the captions. It was Miss Katharine Taylor, now of
+the Shady Hill School, Cambridge, who brought these stories to our
+attention.
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD: TO BOYS AND GIRLS
+
+Do you like to dig for hidden treasure? Have you ever found Indian
+arrowheads or Indian pottery? I knew a boy who was digging a cave in
+a sandy place, and he found an Indian grave. With his own hands he
+uncovered the bones and skull of some brave warrior. That brown skull
+was more precious to him than a mint of money. Another boy I knew was
+making a cave of his own. Suddenly he dug into an older one made years
+before. He crawled into it with a leaping heart and began to explore. He
+found an old carpet and a bit of burned candle. They proved that some
+one had lived there. What kind of a man had he been and what kind
+of life had he lived--black or white or red, robber or beggar or
+adventurer? Some of us were walking in the woods one day when we saw a
+bone sticking out of the ground. Luckily we had a spade, and we set to
+work digging. Not one moment was the tool idle. First one bone and then
+another came to light and among them a perfect horse’s skull. We felt as
+though we had rescued Captain Kidd’s treasure, and we went home draped
+in bones.
+
+Suppose that instead of finding the bones of a horse we had uncovered a
+gold-wrapped king. Suppose that instead of a deserted cave that boy
+had dug into a whole buried city with theaters and mills and shops and
+beautiful houses. Suppose that instead of picking up an Indian arrowhead
+you could find old golden vases and crowns and bronze swords lying in
+the earth. If you could be a digger and a finder and could choose your
+find, would you choose a marble statue or a buried bakeshop with bread
+two thousand years old still in the oven or a king’s grave filled with
+golden gifts? It is of such digging and such finding that this book
+tells.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  FOREWORD: To BOYS AND GIRLS
+
+
+  POMPEII
+
+  1. The Greek Slave and the Little Roman Boy
+
+  2. Vesuvius
+
+  3. Pompeii Today
+
+  _Pictures of Pompeii:_
+
+  A Roman Boy
+
+  The City of Naples
+
+  Vesuvius in Eruption
+
+  Pompeii from an Airplane
+
+  Nola Street; the Stabian Gate
+
+  In the Street of Tombs
+
+  The Amphitheater; the Baths
+
+  Temple of Apollo; School of the Gladiators
+
+  The Smaller Theater
+
+  A Sacrifice
+
+  Scene in the Forum; Hairpins; Bath Appliances
+
+  Peristyle of the House of the Vettii
+
+  Lady Playing a Harp
+
+  Kitchen of the House of the Vettii
+
+  Kitchen Utensils; Centaur Cup
+
+  The House of the Tragic Poet
+
+  Mosaic of Watch Dog
+
+  The House of Diomede
+
+  A Bakery; Section of a Mill
+
+  Lucius Cæcilius Jueundus
+
+  Bronze Candleholder
+
+  The Dancing Faun
+  Hermes in Repose
+
+  The Arch of Nero
+
+
+  OLYMPIA
+
+  1. Two Winners of Crowns
+
+  2. How a City Was Lost
+
+  _Pictures of Olympia_:
+
+  Entrance to Stadion
+
+  Gymnasium
+
+  Boys in Gymnasium
+
+  Temple of Zeus
+
+  The Labors of Herakles
+
+  The Statue of Victory
+
+  The Hermes of Praxiteles
+
+  The Temple of Hera
+
+  Head of an Athlete
+
+  A Greek Horseman
+
+
+  MYCENÆ
+
+  1. How a Lost City Was Found
+
+  _Pictures of Mycenæ_:
+
+  The Circle of Royal Tombs
+
+  Doctor and Mrs. Schliemann at Work
+
+  The Gate of Lions
+
+  Inside the Treasury of Atreus
+
+  The Interior of the Palace
+
+  Gold Mask; Cow’s Head
+
+  The Warrior Vase
+
+  Bronze Helmets; Gem
+
+  Bronze Daggers
+
+  Carved Ivory Head; Bronze Brooches
+
+  A Cup from Vaphio
+
+  Gold Plates; Gold Ornament
+
+  Mycenæ in the Distance
+
+[Illustration: Line Art of Bronze Lamp. Caption: _Bronze Lamps_. The
+bowl held olive oil. A wick came out at the nozzle. These lamps gave a
+dim and smoky light.]
+
+
+
+
+THE GREEK SLATE AND THE LITTLE ROMAN BOY
+
+Ariston, the Greek slave, was busily painting. He stood in a little room
+with three smooth walls. The fourth side was open upon a court. A little
+fountain splashed there. Above stretched the brilliant sky of Italy. The
+August sun shone hotly down. It cut sharp shadows of the columns on the
+cement floor. This was the master’s room. The artist was painting the
+walls. Two were already gay with pictures. They showed the mighty deeds
+of warlike Herakles. Here was Herakles strangling the lion, Herakles
+killing the hideous hydra, Herakles carrying the wild boar on his
+shoulders, Herakles training the mad horses. But now the boy was
+painting the best deed of all--Herakles saving Alcestis from death. He
+had made the hero big and beautiful. The strong muscles lay smooth in
+the great body. One hand trailed the club. On the other arm hung the
+famous lion skin. With that hand the god led Alcestis. He turned his
+head toward her and smiled. On the ground lay Death, bruised and
+bleeding. One batlike black wing hung broken. He scowled after the hero
+and the woman. In the sky above him stood Apollo, the lord of life,
+looking down. But the picture of the god was only half finished. The
+figure was sketched in outline. Ariston was rapidly laying on paint with
+his little brushes. His eyes glowed with Apollo’s own fire. His lips
+were open, and his breath came through them pantingly.
+
+“O god of beauty, god of Hellas, god of freedom, help me!” he half
+whispered while his brush worked.
+
+For he had a great plan in his mind. Here he was, a slave in this rich
+Roman’s house. Yet he was a free-born son of Athens, from a family of
+painters. Pirates had brought him here to Pompeii, and had sold him as a
+slave. His artist’s skill had helped him, even in this cruel land. For
+his master, Tetreius, loved beauty. The Roman had soon found that his
+young Greek slave was a painter. He had said to his steward:
+
+“Let this boy work at the mill no longer. He shall paint the walls of my
+private room.”
+
+So he had talked to Ariston about what the pictures should be. The Greek
+had found that this solemn, frowning Roman was really a kind man. Then
+hope had sprung up in his breast and had sung of freedom.
+
+“I will do my best to please him,” he had thought. “When all the walls
+are beautiful, perhaps he will smile at my work. Then I will clasp his
+knees. I will tell him of my father, of Athens, of how I was stolen.
+Perhaps he will send me home.”
+
+Now the painting was almost done. As he worked, a thousand pictures were
+flashing through his mind. He saw his beloved old home in lovely Athens.
+He felt his father’s hand on his, teaching him to paint. He gazed again
+at the Parthenon, more beautiful than a dream. Then he saw himself
+playing on the fishing boat on that terrible holiday. He saw the pirate
+ship sail swiftly from behind a rocky point and pounce upon them. He saw
+himself and his friends dragged aboard. He felt the tight rope on his
+wrists as they bound him and threw him under the deck. He saw himself
+standing here in the market place of Pompeii. He heard himself sold for
+a slave. At that thought he threw down his brush and groaned.
+
+But soon he grew calmer. Perhaps the sweet drip of the fountain cooled
+his hot thoughts. Perhaps the soft touch of the sun soothed his heart.
+He took up his brushes again and set to work.
+
+“The last figure shall be the most beautiful of all,” he said to
+himself. “It is my own god, Apollo.”
+
+So he worked tenderly on the face. With a few little strokes he made the
+mouth smile kindly. He made the blue eyes deep and gentle. He lifted the
+golden curls with a little breeze from Olympos. The god’s smile cheered
+him. The beautiful colors filled his mind. He forgot his sorrows. He
+forgot everything but his picture. Minute by minute it grew under his
+moving brush. He smiled into the god’s eyes.
+
+Meantime a great noise arose in the house. There were cries of fear.
+There was running of feet.
+
+“A great cloud!” “Earthquake!” “Fire and hail!” “Smoke from hell!” “The
+end of the world!” “Run! Run!”
+
+And men and women, all slaves, ran screaming through the house and out
+of the front door. But the painter only half heard the cries. His ears,
+his eyes, his thoughts were full of Apollo.
+
+For a little the house was still. Only the fountain and the shadows and
+the artist’s brush moved there. Then came a great noise as though the
+sky had split open. The low, sturdy house trembled. Ariston’s brush was
+shaken and blotted Apollo’s eye. Then there was a clattering on the
+cement floor as of a million arrows. Ariston ran into the court. From
+the heavens showered a hail of gray, soft little pebbles like beans.
+They burned his upturned face. They stung his bare arms. He gave a cry
+and ran back under the porch roof. Then he heard a shrill call above all
+the clattering. It came from the far end of the house. Ariston ran back
+into the private court. There lay Caius, his master’s little sick son.
+His couch was under the open sky, and the gray hail was pelting down
+upon him. He was covering his head with his arms and wailing.
+
+“Little master!” called Ariston. “What is it? What has happened to us?”
+ “Oh, take me!” cried the little boy.
+
+“Where are the others?” asked Ariston.
+
+“They ran away,” answered Caius. “They were afraid, Look! O-o-h!”
+
+He pointed to the sky and screamed with terror.
+
+Ariston looked. Behind the city lay a beautiful hill, green with trees.
+But now from the flat top towered a huge, black cloud. It rose straight
+like a pine tree and then spread its black branches over the heavens.
+And from that cloud showered these hot, pelting pebbles of pumice stone.
+
+“It is a volcano,” cried Ariston.
+
+He had seen one spouting fire as he had voyaged on the pirate ship.
+
+“I want my father,” wailed the little boy.
+
+Then Ariston remembered that his master was away from home. He had gone
+in a ship to Rome to get a great physician for his sick boy. He had left
+Caius in the charge of his nurse, for the boy’s mother was dead. But
+now every slave had turned coward and had run away and left the little
+master to die.
+
+Ariston pulled the couch into one of the rooms. Here the roof kept off
+the hail of stones.
+
+“Your father is expected home to-day, master Caius,” said the Greek. “He
+will come. He never breaks his word. We will wait for him here. This
+strange shower will soon be over.”
+
+So he sat on the edge of the couch, and the little Roman laid his head
+in his slave’s lap and sobbed. Ariston watched the falling pebbles. They
+were light and full of little holes. Every now and then black rocks of
+the size of his head whizzed through the air. Sometimes one fell into
+the open cistern and the water hissed at its heat. The pebbles lay piled
+a foot deep all over the courtyard floor. And still they fell thick and
+fast.
+
+“Will it never stop?” thought Ariston.
+
+Several times the ground swayed under him. It felt like the moving of a
+ship in a storm. Once there was thunder and a trembling of the house.
+Ariston was looking at a little bronze statue that stood on a tall,
+slender column. It tottered to and fro in the earthquake. Then it fell,
+crashing into the piled-up stones. In a few minutes the falling shower
+had covered it.
+
+Ariston began to be more afraid. He thought of Death as he had painted
+him in his picture. He imagined that he saw him hiding behind a column.
+He thought he heard his cruel laugh. He tried to look up toward the
+mountain, but the stones pelted him down. He felt terribly alone. Was
+all the rest of the world dead? Or was every one else in some safe
+place?
+
+“Come, Caius, we must get away,” he cried. “We shall be buried here.”
+
+He snatched up one of the blankets from the couch. He threw the ends
+over his shoulders and let a loop hang at his back. He stood the sick
+boy in this and wound the ends around them both. Caius was tied to his
+slave’s back. His heavy little head hung on Ariston’s shoulder. Then the
+Greek tied a pillow over his own head. He snatched up a staff and ran
+from the house. He looked at his picture as he passed. He thought he
+saw Death half rise from the ground. But Apollo seemed to smile at his
+artist.
+
+At the front door Ariston stumbled. He found the street piled deep with
+the gray, soft pebbles. He had to scramble up on his hands and knees.
+From the house opposite ran a man. He looked wild with fear. He was
+clutching a little statue of gold. Ariston called to him, “Which way to
+the gate?”
+
+But the man did not hear. He rushed madly on. Ariston followed him. It
+cheered the boy a little to see that somebody else was still alive in
+the world. But he had a hard task. He could not run. The soft pebbles
+crunched under his feet and made him stumble. He leaned far forward
+under his heavy burden. The falling shower scorched his bare arms and
+legs. Once a heavy stone struck him on his cushioned head, and he fell.
+But he was up in an instant. He looked around bewildered. His head was
+ringing. The air was hot and choking. The sun was gone. The shower was
+blinding. Whose house was this? The door stood open. The court was
+empty. Where was the city gate? Would he never get out? He did not know
+this street. Here on the corner was a wine shop with its open sides. But
+no men stood there drinking. Wine cups were tipped over and broken on
+the marble counter. Ariston stood in a daze and watched the wine
+spilling into the street.
+
+Then a crowd came rushing past him. It was evidently a family fleeing
+for their lives. Their mouths were open as though they were crying. But
+Ariston could not hear their voices. His ears shook with the roar of the
+mountain. An old man was hugging a chest. Gold coins were spilling out
+as he ran. Another man was dragging a fainting woman. A young girl ran
+ahead of them with white face and streaming hair. Ariston stumbled on
+after this company. A great black slave came swiftly around a corner and
+ran into him and knocked him over, but fled on without looking back. As
+the Greek boy fell forward, the rough little pebbles scoured his face.
+He lay there moaning. Then he began to forget his troubles. His aching
+body began to rest. He thought he would sleep. He saw Apollo smiling.
+Then Caius struggled and cried out. He pulled at the blanket and tried
+to free himself. This roused Ariston, and he sat up. He felt the hot
+pebbles again. He heard the mountain roar. He dragged himself to his
+feet and started on. Suddenly the street led him out into a broad space.
+Ariston looked around him. All about stretched wide porches with their
+columns. Temple roofs rose above them. Statues stood high on their
+pedestals. He was in the forum. The great open square was crowded with
+hurrying people. Under one of the porches Ariston saw the money changers
+locking their boxes. From a wide doorway ran several men. They were
+carrying great bundles of woolen cloth, richly embroidered and dyed
+with precious purple. Down the great steps of Jupiter’s temple ran a
+priest. Under his arms he clutched two large platters of gold. Men were
+running across the forum dragging bags behind them.
+
+Every one seemed trying to save his most precious things. And every one
+was hurrying to the gate at the far end. Then that was the way out!
+Ariston picked up his heavy feet and ran. Suddenly the earth swayed
+under him. He heard horrible thunder. He thought the mountain was
+falling upon him. He looked behind. He saw the columns of the porch
+tottering. A man was running out from one of the buildings. But as he
+ran, the walls crashed down. The gallery above fell cracking. He was
+buried. Ariston saw it all and cried out in horror. Then he prayed:
+
+“O Lord Poseidon, shaker of the earth, save me! I am a Greek!”
+
+Then he came out of the forum. A steep street sloped down to a gate. A
+river of people was pouring out there. The air was full of cries. The
+great noise of the crowd made itself heard even in the noise of the
+volcano. The streets were full of lost treasures. Men pushed and fell
+and were trodden upon. But at last Ariston passed through the gateway
+and was out of the city. He looked about.
+
+“It is no better,” he sobbed to himself.
+
+The air was thicker now. The shower had changed to hot dust as fine
+as ashes. It blurred his eyes. It stopped his nostrils. It choked his
+lungs. He tore his chiton from top to bottom and wrapped it about his
+mouth and nose. He looked back at Caius and pulled the blanket over his
+head. Behind him a huge cloud was reaching out long black arms from the
+mountain to catch him. Ahead, the sun was only a red wafer in the shower
+of ashes. Around him people were running off to hide under rocks or
+trees or in the country houses. Some were running, running anywhere to
+get away. Out of one courtyard dashed a chariot. The driver was lashing
+his horses. He pushed them ahead through the crowd. He knocked people
+over, but he did not stop to see what harm he had done. Curses flew
+after him. He drove on down the road.
+
+Ariston remembered when he himself had been dragged up here two years
+ago from the pirate ship.
+
+“This leads to the sea,” he thought. “I will go there. Perhaps I shall
+meet my master, Tetreius. He will come by ship. Surely I shall find him.
+The gods will send him to me. O blessed gods!”
+
+But what a sea! It roared and tossed and boiled. While Ariston looked,
+a ship was picked up and crushed and swallowed. The sea poured up the
+steep shore for hundreds of feet. Then it rushed back and left its
+strange fish gasping on the dry land. Great rocks fell from the sky,
+and steam rose up as they splashed into the water. The sun was growing
+fainter. The black cloud was coming on. Soon it would be dark. And then
+what? Ariston lay down where the last huge wave had cooled the ground.
+“It is all over, Caius,” he murmured. “I shall never see Athens again.”
+
+For a while there were no more earthquakes. The sea grew a little less
+wild. Then the half-fainting Ariston heard shouts. He lifted his head.
+A small boat had come ashore. The rowers had leaped out. They were
+dragging it up out of reach of the waves.
+
+“How strange!” thought Ariston. “They are not running away. They must be
+brave. We are all cowards.”
+
+“Wait for me here!” cried a lordly voice to the rowers.
+
+When he heard that voice Ariston struggled to his feet and called.
+
+“Marcus Tetreius! Master!”
+
+He saw the man turn and run toward him. Then the boy toppled over and
+lay face down in the ashes.
+
+When he came to himself he felt a great shower of water in his face. The
+burden was gone from his back. He was lying in a row boat, and the boat
+was falling to the bottom of the sea. Then it was flung up to the skies.
+Tetreius was shouting orders. The rowers were streaming with sweat and
+sea water.
+
+In some way or other they all got up on the waiting ship. It always
+seemed to Ariston as though a wave had thrown him there. Or had Poseidon
+carried him? At any rate, the great oars of the galley were flying. He
+could hear every rower groan as he pulled at his oar. The sails, too,
+were spread. The master himself stood at the helm. His face was one
+great frown. The boat was flung up and down like a ball. Then fell
+darkness blacker than night.
+
+“Who can steer without sun or stars?” thought the boy.
+
+Then he remembered the look on his master’s face as he stood at the
+tiller. Such a look Ariston had painted on Herakles’ face as he
+strangled the lion.
+
+“He will get us out,” thought the slave.
+
+For an hour the swift ship fought with the waves. The oarsmen were
+rowing for their lives. The master’s arm was strong, and his heart was
+not for a minute afraid. The wind was helping. At last they reached calm
+waters.
+
+“Thanks be to the gods!” cried Tetreius. “We are out of that boiling
+pot.”
+
+At his words fire shot out of the mountain. It glowed red in the dusty
+air. It flung great red arms across the sky after the ship. Every man
+and spar and oar on the vessel seemed burning in its light. Then the
+fire died, and thick darkness swallowed everything. Ariston’s heart
+seemed smothered in his breast. He heard the slaves on the rowers’
+benches scream with fear. Then he heard their leader crying to them. He
+heard a whip whiz through the air and strike on bare shoulders. Then
+there was a crash as though the mountain had clapped its hands. A
+thicker shower of ashes filled the air. But the rowers were at their
+oars again. The ship was flying.
+
+So for two hours or more Tetreius and his men fought for safety. Then
+they came out into fresher air and calmer water. Tetreius left the
+rudder. “Let the men rest and thank the gods,” he said to his overseer.
+“We have come up out of the grave.”
+
+When Ariston heard that, he remembered the Death he had left painted
+on his master’s wall. By that time the picture was surely buried under
+stones and ashes. The boy covered his face with his ragged chiton and
+wept. He hardly knew what he was crying for--the slavery, the picture,
+the buried city, the fear of that horrid night, the sorrows of the
+people left back there, his father, his dear home in Athens. At last
+he fell asleep. The night was horrible with dreams--fire, earthquake,
+strangling ashes, cries, thunder, lightning. But his tired body held
+him asleep for several hours. Finally he awoke. He was lying on a soft
+mattress. A warm blanket covered him. Clean air filled his nostrils. The
+gentle light of dawn lay upon his eyes. A strange face bent over him.
+
+“It is only weariness,” a kind voice was saying. “He needs food and rest
+more than medicine.”
+
+Then Ariston saw Tetreius, also, bending over him. The slave leaped to
+his feet. He was ashamed to be caught asleep in his master’s presence.
+He feared a frown for his laziness.
+
+“My picture is finished, master,” he cried, still half asleep.
+
+“And so is your slavery,” said Tetreius, and his eyes shone.
+
+“It was not a slave who carried my son out of hell on his back. It was a
+hero.” He turned around and called, “Come hither, my friends.”
+
+Three Roman gentlemen stepped up. They looked kindly upon Ariston.
+
+“This is the lad who saved my son,” said Tetreius. “I call you to
+witness that he is no longer a slave. Ariston, I send you from my hand a
+free man.”
+
+He struck his hand lightly on the Greek’s shoulder, as all Roman masters
+did when they freed a slave. Ariston cried aloud with joy. He sank to
+his knees weeping. But Tetreius went on.
+
+“This kind physician says that Caius will live. But he needs good air
+and good nursing. He must go to some one of Aesculapius’ holy places. He
+shall sleep in the temple and sit in the shady porches, and walk in the
+sacred groves. The wise priests will give him medicines. The god will
+send healing dreams. Do you know of any such place, Ariston?”
+
+The Greek thought of the temple and garden of Aesculapius on the sunny
+side of the Acropolis at home in Athens. But he could not speak. He
+gazed hungrily into Tetreius’ eyes. The Roman smiled.
+
+“Ariston, this ship is bound for Athens! All my life I have loved
+her--her statues, her poems, her great deeds. I have wished that my son
+might learn from her wise men. The volcano has buried my home, Ariston.
+But my wealth and my friends and my son are aboard this ship. What do
+you say, my friend? Will you be our guide in Athens?” Ariston leaped up
+from his knees. A fire of joy burned in his eyes. He stretched his hands
+to the sky.
+
+“O blessed Herakles,” he cried, “again thou hast conquered Death. Thou
+didst snatch us from the grave of Pompeii. Give health to this Roman
+boy. O fairest Athena, shed new beauty upon our violet crowned Athens.
+For there is coming to visit her the best of men, my master Tetreius.”
+
+
+[Illustration: _A Marble Table_: The lions’ heads were painted yellow.
+You can see a table much like this in the garden pictured later.]
+
+
+
+
+VESUVIUS
+
+So a living city was buried in a few hours. Wooded hills and green
+fields lay covered under great ash heaps. Ever since that terrible
+eruption Vesuvius has been restless. Sometimes she has been quiet for
+a hundred years or more and men have almost forgotten that she ever
+thundered and spouted and buried cities. But all at once she would move
+again. She would shoot steam and ashes into the sky. At night fire
+would leap out of her top. A few times she sent out dust and lava and
+destroyed houses and fields. A man who lived five hundred years after
+Pompeii was destroyed described Vesuvius as she was in his time. He
+said:
+
+“This mountain is steep and thick with woods below. Above, it is very
+craggy and wild. At the top is a deep cave. It seems to reach the bottom
+of the mountain. If you peep in you can see fire. But this ordinarily
+keeps in and does not trouble the people. But sometimes the mountain
+bellows like an ox. Soon after it casts out huge masses of cinders. If
+these catch a man, he hath no way to save his life. If they fall upon
+houses, the roofs are crushed by the weight. If the wind blow stiff,
+the ashes rise out of sight and are carried to far countries. But this
+bellowing comes only every hundred years or thereabout. And the air
+around the mountain is pure. None is more healthy. Physicians send
+thither sick men to get well.”
+
+The ashes that had covered Pompeii changed to rich soil. Green vines
+and shrubs and trees sprang up and covered it, and flowers made it gay.
+Therefore people said to themselves:
+
+“After all, she is a good old mountain. There will never be another
+eruption while we are alive.”
+
+So villages grew up around her feet. Farmers came and built little
+houses and planted crops and were happy working the fertile soil. They
+did not dream that they were living above a buried city, that the roots
+of their vines sucked water from an old Roman house, that buried statues
+lay gazing up toward them as they worked.
+
+About three hundred years ago came another terrible eruption. Again
+there were earthquakes. Again the mountain bellowed. Again black clouds
+turned day into night. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud. Tempests
+of hot rain fell. The sea rushed back and forth on the shore. The whole
+top of the mountain was blown out or sank into the melting pot. Seven
+rivers of red-hot lava poured down the slopes. They flowed for five
+miles and fell into the sea. On the way they set fire to forests and
+covered five little villages. Thousands of people were killed.
+
+Since that time Vesuvius has been very active. Almost every year there
+have been eruptions with thunder and earthquakes and showers and lava.
+A few of these have done much damage. [Footnote: In this year, 1922,
+Vesuvius has been very active for the first time since 1906. It has been
+causing considerable alarm in Naples. A new cone, 230 feet high, has
+developed.--Ed.] And even on her calmest days a cloud has always hung
+above the mountain top. Sometimes it has been thin and white--a cloud of
+steam. Sometimes it has been black and curling--a cloud of dust.
+
+Vesuvius is a dangerous thing, but very beautiful. It stands tall and
+pointed and graceful against a lovely sky. Its little cloud waves from
+it like a plume. At night the mountain is swallowed by the dark. But
+the red rivers down its slopes glare in the sky. It is beautiful and
+terrible like a tiger. Thousands of people have loved it. They have
+climbed it and looked down its crater. It is like looking into the heart
+of the earth. One of these travelers wrote of his visit in 1793. He
+said:
+
+“For many days Vesuvius has been in action. I have watched it from
+Naples. It is wonderfully beautiful and always changing. On one day huge
+clouds poured out of the top. They hung in the sky far above, white as
+snow. Suddenly a cloud of smoke rushed out of another mouth. It was as
+black as ink. The black column rose tall and curling beside the snowy
+clouds. That was a picture in black and white. But at another time I saw
+one in bright colors.
+
+“On a certain night there were towers and curls and waves and spires of
+flames leaping from the top of the mountain. Millions of red-hot stones
+were shot into the sky. They sailed upward for hundreds of feet, then
+curved and fell like skyrockets. I looked through my telescope and saw
+liquid lava boiling and bubbling over the crater’s edge. I could see it
+splash upon the rocks and glide slowly down the sides of the cone. The
+whole top of the mountain was red with melted rock. And above it waved
+the changing flames of red, orange, yellow, blue.
+
+“On another night, as I was getting into bed, I felt an earthquake. I
+looked out of my window toward Vesuvius. All the top was glowing with
+red-hot matter. A terrible roaring came from the mountain. In an instant
+fire shot high into the air. The red column curved and showered the
+whole cone. In half a minute came another earthquake shock. My doors and
+windows rattled. Things were shaken from my table to the floor. Then
+came the thunder of an explosion from the mountain and another shower
+of fire. After a few seconds there were noises like the trampling of
+horses’ hoofs. It was, of course, the noise of the shot-out stones
+falling upon the rocks of the mountainsides eight miles away.
+
+“I decided to ascend the volcano and see the crater from which all these
+interesting things came. A few friends went with me. For most of the way
+we traveled on horses. After two or three hours we reached the bottom of
+the cone of rocks and ashes. From there we had to go on foot. We went
+over to the river of red-hot lava. We planned to walk up along its edge.
+But the hot rock was smoking, and the wind blew the smoke into our
+faces. A thick mist of fine ashes from the crater almost suffocated us.
+Sulphur fumes blew toward us and choked us. I said,
+
+“‘We must cross the stream of lava. On the other side the wind will not
+trouble us.’
+
+“‘Cross that melted rock?’ my friends cried out. ‘We should sink into it
+and be burned alive.’
+
+“But as we stood talking great stones were thrown out of the volcano.
+They rolled down the mountainside close to us. If they had struck us
+it would have been death. There was only one way to save ourselves. I
+covered my face with my hat and rushed across the stream of lava. The
+melted rock was so thick and heavy that I did not sink in. I only burned
+my boots and scorched my hands. My friends followed me. On that side we
+were safe. We climbed for half an hour. Then we came to the head of our
+red river. It did not flow over the edge of the crater. Many feet down
+from the top it had torn a hole through the cone. I shall never forget
+the sight as long as I live. There was a vast arch in the black rock.
+From this arch rushed a clear torrent of lava. It flowed smoothly like
+honey. It glowed with all the splendor of the sun. It looked thin like
+golden water.
+
+“‘I could stir it with a stick,’ said one of my friends.
+
+“‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘See how slowly it flows. It must be very thick
+and heavy.’
+
+“To test it we threw pebbles into it. They did not sink, but floated on
+like corks. We rolled in heavier stones of seventy or eighty pounds.
+They only made shallow dents in the stream and floated down with the
+current. A great rock of three hundred pounds lay near. I raised it upon
+end and let it fall into the lava. Very slowly it sank and disappeared.
+
+“As the stream flowed on it spread out wider over the mountain. Farther
+down the slope it grew darker and harder. It started from the arch like
+melted gold. Then it changed to orange, to bright red, to dark red, to
+brown, as it cooled. At the lower end it was black and hard and broken
+like cinders.
+
+“We climbed a little higher above the arch. There was a kind of chimney
+in the rock. Smoke and stream were coming out of it. I went close. The
+fumes of sulphur choked me. I reached out and picked some lumps of pure
+sulphur from the edge of the rock. For one moment the smoke ceased. I
+held my breath and looked down the hole. I saw the glare of red-hot lava
+flowing beneath. The mountain was a pot, full of boiling rock.”
+
+Another man writes of a visit in 1868, a quieter year.
+
+“At first we climbed gentle slopes through vineyards and fields and
+villages. Sometimes we came suddenly upon a black line in a green
+meadow. A few years before it had flowed down red-hot. Further up we
+reached large stretches of rock. Here wild vines and lupines were
+growing in patches where the lava had decayed into soil. Then came
+bare slopes with dark hollow and sharp ridges. We walked on old stiff
+lava-streams. Sometimes we had to plod through piles of coarse, porous
+cinders. Sometimes we climbed over tangled, lumpy beds of twisted, shiny
+rock. Sometimes we looked into dark arched tunnels. Red streams had
+once flowed out of them. A few times we passed near fresh cracks in the
+mountain. Here steam puffed out.
+
+“At last we reached a broad, hot piece of ground. Here were smoking
+holes. The night before I had looked at them with a telescope from the
+foot of the mountain. I had seen red rivers flowing from them. Now they
+were empty. Last night’s lava lay on the slope, cooled and black. I
+was standing on it. My feet grew hot. I had to keep moving. The air I
+breathed was warm and smelled like that of an iron foundry. I pushed my
+pole into a crack in the rock. The wood caught fire. I was standing on a
+thin crust. What was below? I broke out a piece of the hard lava. A red
+spot glared up at me. Under the crust red-hot lava was still flowing. I
+knew that it would be several years before it would be perfectly cool.”
+
+So for three centuries people have watched Vesuvius at work. But she is
+much older than that--thousands of years older--older than any city or
+country or people in the world. In all that time she has poured out
+millions of tons of matter--lava, huge glassy boulders, little pebbles
+of pumice stone, long shining hairs, fine dust or ashes. All these
+things are different forms of melted rock. Sometimes the steam blows the
+liquid into fine dust; sometimes it breaks it into little pieces and
+fills them with bubbles. At another time the steam is not so strong and
+only pushes the stuff out gently over the crater’s edge. Many different
+minerals are found in these rocks--iron, copper, lead, mica, zinc,
+sulphur. Some pieces are beautiful in color--blue, green, red, yellow.
+Precious stones have sometimes been found--garnets, topaz, quartz,
+tourmaline, lapis lazuli. But most of the stone is dull black or brown
+or gray.
+
+All this heavy matter drops close to the mountain. And on calm days the
+ashes, also, fall near at home. Indeed, the volcano has built up its own
+mountain. But a heavy wind often carries the fine dust for hundreds of
+miles. Once it was blown as far as Constantinople and it darkened the
+sun and frightened people there. Some of the ashes fall into the sea.
+For years the currents carry them about from shore to shore. At last
+they settle to the bottom and make clay or sand or mud. The material
+lies there for thousands of years and is hard packed into a soft fine
+grained rock, called tufa. The city of Naples to-day is built of such
+stone that once lay under the sea. An earthquake long ago lifted the
+ocean bottom and turned it into dry land. Now men live upon it and cut
+streets in it and grow crops on it.
+
+So for many miles about, Vesuvius has been making earth. Her ashes lie
+hundreds of feet deep. Men dig wells and still find only material that
+has been thrown out of the volcano. When this matter grows old and lies
+under the sun and rain it turns to good soil. The acids of water and air
+and plants eat into it. Rain wears it away. Plant roots crack the rocks
+open. The top layer becomes powdered and rotted and mixed with vegetable
+loam and is fertile soil. So the country all around the volcano is a
+rich garden. Tomatoes, melons, grapes, olives, figs, cover the land.
+
+But Vesuvius alone has not made all this ground. She is in a nest of
+volcanoes. They have all been at work like her, spouting ashes and
+pumice and rocks and lava. Ten miles away is a wide stretch of country
+where there are more than a dozen old craters. Twenty miles out in the
+blue bay a volcano stands up out of the water. A hundred miles south
+is a group of small volcanic islands. They have hot springs. One has a
+volcano that spouts every five or six minutes. At night it is like a
+lighthouse for sailors. One of these Islands is only two thousand years
+old. The men of Pompeii saw it pushed up out of the sea during an
+earthquake. A little farther south is Mt. Aetna in Sicily. It is a
+greater mountain than Vesuvius and has done more work than she has done.
+So all the southern part of Italy seems to be the home of volcanoes and
+earthquakes.
+
+There are many other such places scattered over the world--Iceland,
+Mexico, South America, Japan, the Sandwich Islands. Here the same
+terrible play is going on--thunder, clouds, falling ashes, scalding
+rain, flowing lava. The earth is being turned inside out, and men are
+learning what she is made of.
+
+
+[ILLUSTRATION: _Bronze lampholder_: Five lamps hung from the branches
+of this bronze tree. It was twenty inches high.]
+
+
+
+
+POMPEII TO-DAY
+
+Years came and went and changed the world. The old gods died, and the
+new religion of Christ grew strong. The old temples fell into ruins, and
+new churches were built in their places. Instead of the old Roman in his
+white toga came merchants in crimson velvet and knights in steel armor
+and gentlemen in ruffles and modern men in plain clothes.
+
+Among all these changes, Pompeii was almost forgotten. But after a long
+while people began to be much interested in ancient Italy. They read old
+Roman books, and learned of her wonderful cities. They began to dig here
+and there and find beautiful statues and vases and jewels. They read the
+story of Pompeii in an old Roman book--a whole city suddenly buried just
+as her people had left her!
+
+“There we should find treasures!” they said. “We should see houses,
+temples, shops, streets, as they were seventeen hundred years ago. We
+should find them full of statues and rich things. Perhaps we should find
+some of the people who lived in ancient days. But where to dig?”
+
+Their question was answered by accident. At that time certain men were
+making a tunnel to carry spring water from the hills across the country
+to a little town near Naples. The tunnel happened to pass over buried
+Pompeii. They dug up some blocks of stone with Latin inscriptions carved
+on them. After that other people found little ancient relics near the
+same place.
+
+“This must be where Pompeii lies buried,” the wise men said.
+
+They began to excavate. That was about two hundred years ago. Ever since
+that time the work has gone on. Sometimes people have been discouraged
+and have given up. At other times six hundred men have been working
+busily. Kings have given money. Emperors and princes and queens have
+visited the excavations. Artists have made pictures of the ruins, and
+scholars have written books about them. But it is a great task to
+uncover a whole city that is buried ten or twelve feet deep. The
+excavation is not yet finished. Perhaps when you are old men and women
+the work will be completed, and a whole Roman city will be open to your
+eyes.
+
+But even as it is to-day, that ghost of a city is among the world’s
+wonders. There is the thick stone wall that goes all about the town. On
+its wide top the soldiers used to stand to fight in ancient days. Now
+the stones are fallen; its towers are broken; its gates are open. Yet
+there the battered little giant stands at its task of protecting the
+town. Out of its eight gates stretch the paved streets.
+
+Perhaps some day you will cross the ocean to visit this “dead city.”
+ It lies on a slope at the foot of Vesuvius. Behind stands the tall,
+graceful volcano with its floating feather of steam and smoke. In front
+lies a little plain, and beyond it a long ridge of steep mountains. Off
+at the side shines the dark blue sea with island peaks rising out of it.
+On hillsides and plain are green vineyards and dark forests dotted with
+white farmhouses.
+
+In some places there are high mounds of dirt outside the city wall. They
+are made by the ashes that have been dug out by the excavators and piled
+here. If you climb one of them you will be able to look over the city.
+You will find it a little place--less than a mile long and half a mile
+wide inside its ragged wall. And yet many thousand people used to live
+here. So the houses had to be crowded together. You will see no grassy
+lawns nor vacant lots nor playgrounds nor parks with pleasant trees.
+Many narrow streets cross one another and cut the city into solid blocks
+of buildings. You will be confused because you will see thousands of
+broken walls standing up, but no roofs. They are gone--crushed by the
+piling ashes long ago.
+
+At last you will come down and go in at one of the gates through the
+rough, thick wall, past the empty watch towers. You will tread the very
+paving stones that men’s feet trampled nineteen hundred years ago as
+they fled from the volcano. You will climb a steep, narrow street. This
+is the street the fishermen and sailors used in olden times when they
+came in from the river or sea, carrying baskets of fish or leading mules
+loaded with goods from their ships. This is the street where people
+poured out to the sea on that terrible day of the eruption.
+
+You will pass a ruined temple of Apollo with standing columns and lonely
+altar and steps that lead to a room that is gone. A little farther on
+you will come out into a large open paved space. It is the forum. This
+used to be the busiest place in all Pompeii. At certain hours of the day
+it was filled with little tables and with merchants calling out and with
+gentlemen and slaves buying good’s. But now it is empty and very still.
+Around the sides a few beautiful columns are yet standing with carved
+marble at the top connecting them. But others lie broken, and most of
+them are gone entirely. This is all that is left of the porches where
+men used to walk and talk of business and war and politics and gossip.
+
+At one end of the forum is a high stone platform and wide stone steps
+leading up to a row of broken columns in front of a fallen wall. This is
+the ruin of the temple of Jupiter, the great Roman god. Daily, men used
+to come here to pray before a statue in a dim room. Here, in the ruins,
+the excavators found the head of that statue--a beautiful marble thing
+with long curling hair and beard, and calm face. They found, too, a
+great broken body of marble. And in that large body a smaller statue was
+partly carved. This was a puzzling thing, but the excavators studied it
+out at last. They said:
+
+“Old Roman books tell us that sixteen years before the great eruption
+there had been another earthquake. It had shaken down many buildings and
+had cracked many walls. But the people loved their city, and when the
+earthquake was over, they began to rebuild and to make their houses and
+temples better than ever. We have found many signs of that earthquake.
+We have found uncarved blocks of marble in the forum. Evidently masons
+were at work there when the eruption stopped them. We have found rebuilt
+walls in some of the houses. And here is the temple of Jupiter being
+used as a marble shop. Probably the early earthquake had shaken down and
+broken the statue of the god. A sculptor was set to work to carve a new
+one from the ruin. But suddenly the volcano burst forth, the artist
+dropped his chisel and mallet, and here we have found his unfinished
+work--a statue within a statue.”
+
+Behind the roofless porches of the forum are other ruined
+buildings--where the officers of the city did business, where the
+citizens met to vote, where tailors spread out their cloth and sold
+robes and cloaks. One large market building is particularly interesting.
+You will enter a courtyard with walls all around it and signs of lost
+porches. Broken partitions show where little stalls used to open upon
+the court. Other stalls opened upon the street. In some of these the
+excavators found, buried in the ashes and charred by the fire, figs,
+chestnuts, plums, grapes, glass dishes of fruit, loaves of bread, and
+little cakes. Were customers buying the night’s dessert when Vesuvius
+frightened them away? In a cool corner of the building is a fish market
+with sloping marble counter. Near it in the middle of the courtyard are
+the bases of columns arranged in a circle around a deep basin in the
+floor. In the bottom of this basin the excavators found a thick layer
+of fish scales. Evidently the masters used to buy their fish from the
+market in the corner. Then the slaves carried them here to the shaded
+pool of water and cleaned them and scaled them and washed them. In
+another corner the excavators found skeletons of sheep. Here was a
+pen for live animals which a man might buy for his banquet or for a
+sacrifice to his gods. His slave would lead the sheep away through the
+crowds. But on that terrible day when the volcano belched, the poor
+bleating animals were deserted. Their pen held them and the ashes
+covered them and to-day we can see their skeletons.
+
+The walls around the market are still standing, though the top is broken
+and the roof is fallen. They are still covered with paintings. If you
+will look at them you can guess what used to be for sale here. There are
+game birds and fish and wine jars all pictured here in beautiful colors.
+There are cupids playing about a flour mill and cupids weaving garlands.
+There are also pictures of the gods and heroes and the deeds they did.
+Imagine this painted market full of chattering people, the little shops
+gay with piles of beautiful fruit and vegetables, the graceful columns
+and dark porches adding beauty. Imagine these people crying out and
+running and these columns swaying and falling when Vesuvius bellowed and
+shook the earth. And yet we can see the very fruits that men were buying
+and the pictures they were enjoying.
+
+The forum with its markets and shops and offices and temples and statues
+was the very heart of the city. Many streets led into it. Perhaps you
+will walk down one of them, between broken walls, past open doorways.
+After several street corners you will come to a large building with high
+walls still standing and with tall, arched entrance. This also was one
+of the gay places in Pompeii, for it was a bathhouse. Every day all
+the ladies and gentlemen of the town came strolling toward it down the
+streets. The men went in at the wide doorway. The women turned and
+entered their own apartments around the corner. And as they walked
+toward the entrance they passed little shops built into the walls of
+the bathhouse. At every stall stood the shopkeeper, bowing, smiling,
+begging, calling. “Perfumes, sweet lady!”
+
+“Rings, rings, beautiful madam, for your beautiful fingers!”
+
+“Oil for your body, sir, after the bath!”
+
+“A taste of sweets, madam, before you enter! Honey cakes of my own
+making!”
+
+“Don’t forget to buy my dressing for your hair before you go in! You’ll
+get nothing like it in there.”
+
+So they chattered and called and coaxed. Some of the people bought, and
+some went laughing by and entered the bathhouse. As the gentlemen went
+in, a large court opened before them. Here were men bowling or jumping
+or running or punching the bag or playing ball or taking some other kind
+of exercise before the bath. Others were resting in the shade of the
+porches. A poet sat in a cool corner reading his verses to a few
+listeners. Some men, after their games, were scraping their sweating
+bodies with the strigil. Others were splashing in the marble
+swimming tank. Here and there barbers were working over handsome
+gentlemen--smoothing their faces, perfuming their hair, polishing their
+nails. There was talk and laughter everywhere. Men were lazily coming
+and going through a door that led into the baths. There were large rooms
+with high ceilings and painted walls. In one we can still see the round
+marble basin. The walls are painted with trees and birds and swimming
+fish and statues. It was like bathing in a beautiful garden to bathe
+here. Another room was for the hot bath, with double walls and hot air
+circulating between to make the whole room warm. The bathhouse was a
+great building full of comforts. No wonder that all the idle Pompeians
+came here to bathe, to play, to visit, to tell and hear the news. It was
+a gay and noisy place. We have a letter that one of those old Romans
+wrote to a friend. He says:
+
+“I am living near a bath. Sounds are heard on all sides. The men of
+strong muscle exercise and swing the heavy lead weights. I hear their
+groans as they strain, and the whistling of their breath. I hear the
+massagist slapping a lazy fellow who is being rubbed with ointment. A
+ball player begins to play and counts his throws. Perhaps there is a
+sudden quarrel, or a thief is caught, or some one is singing in the
+bath. And the bathers plunge into the swimming tank with loud splashes.
+Above all the din you hear the calls of the hair puller and the sellers
+of cakes and sweetmeats and sausages.”
+
+After you leave the baths perhaps you will turn down Stabian Street. It
+has narrow sidewalks. The broken walls of houses fence it in closely
+on both sides and cast black shadows across it. It is paved with clean
+blocks of lava. You will see wheel ruts worn deep in the hard stone.
+Almost two thousand years old they are, made by the carts of the
+farmers, perhaps, who brought in vegetables for the market. At the
+street crossings you will see three or four big stone blocks standing
+up above the pavement. They are stepping-stones for rainy weather.
+Evidently floods used to pour down these sloping streets. You can
+imagine little Roman boys skipping across from block to block and trying
+to keep their sandals dry.
+
+The street will lead you to the district of good houses where the
+wealthy men lived. Through open doorways you will get glimpses into the
+old ruined courtyards. It is hard guessing how the rooms used to look.
+But when you come to the door of the house of Vettius you will cry out
+with wonder. There is a lovely garden in the corner of the house. A long
+passage leads to it straight from the street. Around it runs a paved
+porch with pretty columns. Here you will walk in the shade and look out
+at the gay little garden, blooming in the sunshine. In every corner tiny
+streams of water spurt from little statues of bronze and marble and
+trickle into cool basins. Marble tables stand among the flowers. You
+will half expect a slave to bring out old drinking cups and wine bowls
+and set them here for his master’s pleasure, or tablets and stylus for
+him to write his letters. Everything is in order and beautiful. It was
+not quite so when the excavators uncovered this house. The statues were
+thrown down. The flowers were scorched and dead under the piled-up
+ashes. But it was easy for the modern excavators to tell from the ground
+where the flower beds had been and where the gravel paths. Even the
+lead water pipe that carried the stream to the fountain needed little
+repairing. So the excavators set up the statues, cleaned the marble
+tables and benches, planted shrubs and flowers, repaired the porch roof,
+and we have a garden such as the old Romans loved and such as many
+houses in Pompeii had.
+
+Several rooms look out upon this garden. One of them is perhaps the most
+interesting place in all Pompeii. You will walk into it and look around
+and laugh with delight. The whole wall is painted with pictures, big and
+little--pictures of columns and roofs, of plants and animals, of men
+and gods. They are all framed in with wide spaces of beautiful red. And
+tucked away between them in narrow bands of black are the gayest little
+scenes in the world. They are worth going all the way across the ocean
+to see. Psyches--delicate little winged girls like fairies--are picking
+slender flowers and putting them into tall, graceful baskets. They are
+so light and so tiny that they seem to be flitting along the wall
+like bright butterflies. In other panels plump little cupids--winged
+boys--are playing at being men. They are picking grapes and working a
+wine press and selling wine. It is big work for tiny creatures, and they
+must kick up their dimpled legs and puff out their chubby cheeks to do
+it. They are melting gold and carrying gold dishes and selling jewelry
+and swinging a blacksmith’s hammer with their fat little arms. They are
+carrying roses to market on a ragged goat and weaving rose garlands and
+selling them to an elegant little lady. Everywhere these gay little
+creatures are skipping about at their play among the beautiful red
+spaces and large pictures. This was surely a charming dining room in the
+old days. The guests must have been merry every time their eyes lighted
+upon the bright wall. And if they looked out at the open side, there
+smiled the garden with its flowers and statues and splashing fountains
+and columns.
+
+There lived in this house two men by the name of Vettius. We know this
+because the excavators found here two seals. In those days men fastened
+their letters and receipts and bills with wax. While the wax was soft
+they stamped their names in it with a metal seal. On the stamps that
+were found in this house were carved Aulus Vettius Restitutus and Aulus
+Vettius Conviva. Perhaps they were freedmen who once had been slaves of
+Aulus Vettius. But they must have earned a fortune for themselves, for
+there were two money chests in the house. And they must have had slaves
+of their own to take care of their twenty rooms and more. In the tiny
+kitchen the excavators found a good store of charcoal and the ashes of
+a little fire on top of the stone stove. And on its three little legs
+a bronze dish was sitting over the dead fire. A slave must have been
+cooking his master’s dinner when the volcano frightened him away.
+
+Vettius’ dining room is empty of its wooden tables and couches. But some
+houses had stone ones built in their gardens for pleasant summer days.
+These the ashes did not crush, and they are still in place. Columns
+stood about the tables and vines climbed up them and across to make cool
+shade. The tables were always long and narrow and built around three
+sides of a rectangle. Low couches stand along the outside edges. Here
+guests used to lie propped up on their left elbows with pretty cushions
+to make them comfortable. In the open space in the middle of the square
+servants came and went and passed the dishes across the narrow tables.
+Children used to have little wooden stools and sit in this middle space
+opposite their elders. But in one old ruined garden dining room you will
+see a little stone bench for the children, built along the end of the
+table. It must have been pleasant to have supper there with the sunset
+coloring the sky, behind old Vesuvius, the cool breeze shaking the
+leaves of the garden shrubs, and the fountain tinkling, and a bird
+chirping in a corner, and the shadows beginning to creep under the long
+porches, and the tiny flames of lamps fluttering in the dusky rooms
+behind.
+
+After you leave the house of Vettius and walk down the street, you will
+come to a certain door. In the sidewalk before it you will see “Have”
+ spelled with bits of colored marble. It is the old Latin word for
+“Welcome.” It is too pleasant an invitation to refuse. Go in through
+the high doorway and down the narrow passage to the atrium. Every Roman
+house had this atrium. It is like a large reception hall with many
+rooms opening off it--bedrooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms. Beautiful
+hangings instead of doors used to shut these rooms in. The atrium had an
+opening in the roof where the sun shone in and softly lighted the big
+room. Here the master used to receive his guests. In the house of
+Vettius the two money chests were found in the atrium. In this same room
+in the house of “Welcome,” there was found on the floor a little bronze
+statue, a dancing faun, one of the gay friends of Dionysus. It is a tiny
+thing only two feet high, but so pretty that the excavators named the
+house after it--The House of the Faun. Evidently the old owner loved
+beautiful things and had money to buy them. Even the floors of some of
+his rooms are made in mosaic pictures. There are doves at play, and
+ducks and fish and shells all laid under your feet in bright bits of
+colored marble. And beyond the pleasant court with its porches and
+garden is a large sitting room. In the floor of this the excavators
+found the most wonderful mosaic picture of all, a picture of a battle,
+with waving spears and prancing horses and fallen men. Two kings are
+facing each other to fight--Darius, king of Persia, standing in his
+chariot, and Alexander, king of Greece, riding his war horse. The bits
+of stone are so small and of such perfect color that the mosaic looks
+like a beautiful painting. Imagine how the excavators’ hearts leaped
+when the spades took the gray ashes off this bright picture. It was too
+precious a thing to leave here in the rain and wind. So the excavators
+carefully took it up and put it into the museum of Naples where there
+are other valuable things from Pompeii.
+
+There are many other houses almost as pleasant and beautiful as this
+House of the Faun. Every one has its atrium and its sunny court and its
+fountains and statues and its painted walls. But Pompeii was a city of
+business, too, and had many workshops. There is a dye shop where the
+excavators found large lead pots and glass bottles still full of dye.
+There are cleaners’ shops where the slaves used to take their masters’
+robes to be cleaned. Here the excavators found vats and white clay
+for cleaning, and pictures on the wall showing men at work. There are
+tanneries where leather was made. The rusted tools were found which the
+men had thrown down so long ago. There is a pottery shop with two ovens
+for baking the vases. On a certain street corner you will see an old
+wine shop. It is a little room cut into the corner wall of a great
+house. Its two sides are open upon the street with broad marble
+counters. Below the counters are big, deep jars. Their open tops thrust
+themselves through the slab. You can look into their mouths where the
+shopkeeper used to dip out the wine. On the walls of the room are marks
+that show where shelves hung in ancient days to hold cups and glasses.
+In the outer edge of the sidewalk before the shop are two round holes
+cut into the stone. Long ago poles were thrust into them to hold an
+awning that shaded the walk in front of the counters. We can imagine men
+stopping in this pleasant shade as they passed. The busy slave inside
+the shop whips out a cup and a graceful, long-handled ladle and dips out
+the sweet-smelling wine from the wide-mouthed jar. And we can imagine
+how the cups fell clattering from the men’s hands when Vesuvius
+thundered. In one shop, indeed, the excavators found an overturned cup
+on the counter and a wine stain on the marble. But the most interesting
+shops are the bakeries. There were twenty of them in Pompeii. You will
+see the ovens in the courtyard. They are big beehives built of stone or
+brick. The baker made a fire inside and let the walls become hot. Then
+he raked out the coals and cleaned the floor and put in his bread. The
+hot walls baked the loaves. In one oven the excavators found a burned
+loaf eighteen hundred years old. When the earthquake shook his house,
+did the baker snatch out the rest of the ovenful to feed his hungry
+family as they groped about for safety in the terrible darkness?
+In several bakeries you will see, also, the mills. They are great
+mortar-shaped things standing taller than a man. The heavy stone above
+turned around upon the stone below. A man poured wheat in at the top. It
+fell down and was ground between the two stones and dropped out at the
+bottom as flour. A horse or donkey was hitched to the mill to turn it.
+Around and around he walked all day. He was blindfolded to prevent his
+becoming dizzy. You will see on the stone floor in one bakery the path
+that was made by years of this walking. In the old days this silent
+empty court must have been an interesting place. The donkey’s hoofs beat
+lazy time on the stone floor. Now and then a slave lifted up a bag of
+wheat and poured it into the mill or scooped out the white flour from
+the trough at the bottom. Another man sifted the flour and the breeze
+blew the white dust over his bare arms. Some of the ovens were smoking
+and glowing with fresh fire. Others were shut, with the browning bread
+inside, and a good smell hung in the air. And out in front was a little
+shop where the master sold the thin loaves and the fancy little cakes.
+
+In the hundreds of houses and shops of this little town the excavators
+have found bronze tables and lamps and lamp stands and wine jars and
+kitchen pots and pans and spoons and glass vases and silver cups and
+gold hairpins and jewelry and ivory combs and bronze strigils and
+mirrors and several statues of bronze and marble. But where they
+had hoped to find thousands of precious things they have found only
+hundreds. Many pedestals are empty of their statues. Here and there the
+very paintings have been cut from the walls. Those are the pictures we
+should most like to see. How beautiful could they have been?
+
+“Evidently men came back soon after the eruption,” say the excavators.
+“The tops of their ruined houses must have stood up above the ashes.
+They dug down and rescued their most precious things. We have even found
+broken places in walls where we think men dug tunnels from one house to
+another. That is why the temple and market place have so few statues.
+That is why we find so little jewelry and money and dishes. But we have
+enough. The city is our treasure.”
+
+One rich find they did make, however. There was a pleasant farmhouse out
+of town on the slope of Vesuvius. Evidently the man who owned it had
+a vineyard and an olive grove and grain fields. For there are olive
+presses and wine presses and a great court full of vats for making wine
+and a floor for threshing wheat and a mill for grinding flour and a
+stable and a wide courtyard that must have held many carts. And there
+are bathrooms and many pleasant rooms besides. In the room with the wine
+presses was a stone cistern for storing the fresh grape juice. Here
+the excavators found a treasure and a mystery. In this cistern lay the
+skeleton of a man. With him were a thousand pieces of gold money, some
+gold jewelry, and a wonderful dinner set of silver dishes. There are a
+hundred and three pieces--plates, platters, cups, bowls. And every one
+has beaten up from it beautiful designs of flowers and people. An artist
+must have made them, and a rich man must have bought them. How did they
+come here in this farmhouse? They must have been meant for a nobleman’s
+table. Had some thief stolen them and hidden here, only to be caught
+by the volcano? Did some rich lady of the city have this farm for her
+country place? And had she sent her treasure here to escape when the
+volcano burst forth? At any rate here it lay for eighteen hundred years.
+And now it is in a museum in Paris, far from its old owner’s home.
+
+In this buried city we find the houses in which men lived, the pictures
+they loved, the food they ate, the jewels they wore, the cups they drank
+from. But what of the people themselves? Were they real men and women?
+How did they look? Did they all escape? Not all, for many skeletons have
+been found here and there through the city--in the market place, in the
+streets, in the houses. And sometimes the excavators have found still
+stranger, sadder things. Often as a man has been digging in the
+hard-packed ashes, his spade has struck into a hole. Then he has called
+the chief excavator.
+
+“Let us see what it is,” the excavator has said, “Perhaps it will be
+something interesting.”
+
+So they have mixed plaster and poured it into the hole. They have given
+it a little time to harden and then have dug away the ashes from around
+it. In that way they have made a plaster cast just the shape of the
+hole. And several times when they have uncovered their cast they have
+found it to be the form of a man or woman or child. Perhaps the person
+had been hurrying through the street and had stumbled and fallen. The
+gases had choked him, the ashes had slowly covered him. Under the
+moistening rain and the pressure of all the hundreds of years the ashes
+had hardened almost to stone. Meantime the body had decayed and had sunk
+down into a handful of dust. But the hardened ashes still stood firm
+around the space where the body had been. When this hole was filled with
+plaster, the cast took just the form of the one who had been buried
+there so long ago--the folds of his clothes, the ring on his finger, the
+girl’s knot of hair, the negro slave’s woolly head. So we can really
+look upon the faces of some of the ancient people of Pompeii. And in
+another way we can learn the names of many of them.
+
+One of the streets that leads out from the wall is called the “Street of
+Tombs.” It is the ancient burying ground. You will walk along the paved
+street between rows of monuments. Some will be like great square altars
+of marble beautifully carved. Some will be tall platforms with steps
+leading up. There will be marble benches where you may sit and think of
+the old Pompeians who were twice buried in their beautiful tombs. And
+there on the marble monument you will see their names carved in old
+Latin letters, and kind things that their friends said about them. There
+are:
+
+Marcus Cerrinius Restitutus; Aulus Veius, who was several times an
+officer of the city; Mamia, a priestess; Marcus Porcius; Numerius
+Istacidius and his wife and daughter and others of his family, all in
+a great tomb standing on a high platform; Titus Terentius Felix, whose
+wife, Fabia Sabina, built his tomb; Tyche, a slave; Aulus Umbricius
+Scaurus, whose statue was set up in the market place to do him honor;
+Gaius Calventius Quietus, who was given a seat of honor at the theater
+on account of his generosity; Nævoleia Tyche, who had once been a slave,
+but who had been freed, had married, and grown wealthy and had slaves of
+her own; Gnæus Vibius Saturninus, whose freedman built his tomb; Marcus
+Arrius Diomedes, a freedman; Numerius Velasius Gratus, twelve years old;
+Salvinus, six years old; and many another.
+
+After seeing the tombs and houses and shops you will leave that little
+city, I think, feeling that the people of ancient times were much like
+us, that men and mountains have done wonderful things in this old world,
+that it is good to know how people of other times lived and worked and
+died.
+
+
+
+
+PICTURES OF POMPEII
+
+
+A ROMAN BOY.
+
+This statue, now in the Metropolitan Museum, was found at Pompeii.
+Probably Caius was dressed just like this, and carried such a stick when
+he played in his father’s courtyard.
+
+
+THE CITY OF NAPLES, WITH MOUNT VESUVIUS ACROSS THE BAY.
+
+
+VESUVIUS IN ERUPTION, FROM AN AIRPLANE.
+
+Nowadays men know from history what may happen when Vesuvius wakes. But
+in 79 A.D., when Pompeii was buried, the mountain had slept for hundreds
+of years, and no man knew that an eruption might bury a city.
+
+
+POMPEII FROM AN AIRPLANE.
+
+The roofs are all gone and all the partitions inside the houses show.
+That is why it all looks so crowded and confused. But if you study it
+carefully you can see some interesting things. The big open space is
+the forum. It is about five hundred feet long, running northeast and
+southwest. South of it is the temple of Apollo. North of it, where you
+see the bases of columns in a circle, was the market. Next to the market
+is the place where the gods of the city were worshipped. The broad
+street beside the forum running southeast is the one down which Ariston
+fled. Then he turned into the forum, ran out the gate near the lower end
+into the steep street that runs southwest and ends at a city gate near
+the sea.
+
+
+NOLA STREET AND THE TEMPLE OF FORTUNE.
+
+You must imagine this temple with an altar in front, a broad flight of
+steps, and a portico of beautiful columns. You can see the street paved
+with blocks of lava, the deep wheel ruts, and the stepping stones for
+rainy weather.
+
+
+THE STABIAN GATE.
+
+Pompeii was surrounded by two high walls fifteen feet apart, with earth
+between. An embankment of earth was piled up inside also. This is one of
+the eight gates in the wall. IN THE STREET OF TOMBS.
+
+On the tomb of Nævoleia Tyche was a carving of a ship gliding into port,
+the sailors furling the sails. Within this tomb is a chamber where
+funeral urns stand, containing the ashes of Tyche and her husband, and
+of the slaves they had freed. Pompeians always burned the bodies of the
+dead.
+
+
+THE AMPHITHEATER.
+
+Like other Roman towns, Pompeii had an amphitheater. Here twenty
+thousand people could come and watch the gladiators fight in pairs till
+one was killed. Then the dead body was dragged off, and another pair
+appeared and fought. Sometimes the gladiators were prisoners captured in
+war, like the famous Spartacus; sometimes they were slaves; sometimes
+criminals condemned to death. Sometimes a man was pitted against a wild
+beast; sometimes two wild beasts fought each other. The amphitheater had
+no roof. Vesuvius, with its column of smoke, was in plain view from the
+seats. There was a great awning to protect the spectators. The lower
+seats were for officials and distinguished people; for the middle rows
+there was an admission fee; all the upper seats were free.
+
+
+RUINS OF THE GREAT STABIAN BATHS.
+
+A few large houses had baths of their own, but most people went every
+day to a great public bath which was a very gay place. This open court
+which you see, was for games.
+
+
+THE RUINED TEMPLE OF APOLLO.
+
+The temple was built on a high foundation. A broad flight of steps led
+up to it, with an altar at the foot. There was a porch all round it held
+up by a row of columns. Some of the columns have stood up through all
+the earthquakes and eruptions of two thousand years. Inside the porch
+was a small room for the statue of Apollo. In the paved court around
+this temple were many altars and statues of the gods. This was at one
+time the most important temple in Pompeii.
+
+
+THE SCHOOL OF THE GLADIATORS.
+
+In this large open court the gladiators had their training and practice.
+In small cells around the court they lived. They were kept under close
+guard, for they were dangerous men. Sixty-three skeletons were found
+here, many of them in irons.
+
+
+THE SMALLER THEATER.
+
+Pompeii had two theaters for plays and music, besides the amphitheater
+where the gladiators fought. The smaller theater, unlike the others, had
+a roof. It seated fifteen hundred people. We think perhaps contests in
+music were held here.
+
+
+A SACRIFICE.
+
+A boar, a ram, and a bull are to be killed, and a part of the flesh is
+to be burned on the altar to please the gods.
+
+
+A SCENE IN THE FORUM.
+
+On the walls of a room in a house in Pompeii men found this picture,
+showing how interesting the life of the forum was. At the left is a
+table where a man has kitchen utensils for sale. But he is dreaming and
+does not see a customer coming. So his friend is waking him up. Near him
+is a shoemaker selling sandals to some women.
+
+
+IVORY HAIRPINS.
+
+Underneath are two ivory toilet boxes. One was probably for perfumed
+oil.
+
+
+APPLIANCES FOR THE BATH.
+
+These were found hanging in a ring in one of the great public baths. You
+see a flask for oil, a saucer to pour the oil into, and four scrapers to
+scrape off the oil and dirt before a plunge.
+
+
+PERISTYLE OF THE HOUSE OF THE VETTII.
+
+With the columns and tables and statues that were found, this court has
+been built on the site of an old ruined villa. Flowers bloom and the
+fountain plays in it to-day just as they did over two thousand years
+ago. There are wall paintings in the shadows at the back. The little
+boys holding the ducks must look very much like Caius when he was a
+little boy. When he went to the farm in the hills for a hot summer, he
+had ducks to play with; here are statues to remind him, in the winter
+time, of what fun that was.
+
+A garden like this, not generally so large, was laid out _inside_ every
+important house in Pompeii. The family rooms surrounded it. These rooms
+received most of their light and air from this garden. Caius was lying
+on a couch in a garden like this, when the shower of pebbles suddenly
+began. Ariston was painting the walls of a room that overlooked the
+garden.
+
+
+LADY PLAYING A HARP.
+
+This is part of a beautiful wall painting in a Pompeian house, the sort
+of painting that Ariston was making when the volcano burst forth. See
+how much the little boy looks like his mother, and what beautiful bands
+they both have in their hair. Chairs like this one have been found in
+the ruins, and the same design is on many other pieces of furniture.
+
+The Metropolitan Museum owns the complete wall paintings for a Pompeian
+room. They are put up just as they were in Pompeii. There is even an
+iron window grating. A beautiful table from Pompeii stands in the
+center. The room is one of the gayest in the whole museum, with its rich
+reds and bright yellows, greens, and blues.
+
+
+KITCHEN OF THE HOUSE OF THE VETTII.
+
+In this house the cook must have been in the kitchen, just ready to go
+to work when he had to flee. He left the pot on a tripod on a bed of
+coals, ready for use. You can see an arched opening underneath the
+fireplace. This was where the cook kept his fuel. The small size of
+the kitchens shows that the Pompeians were not great gluttons.
+
+
+KITCHEN UTENSILS.
+
+These kettles and frying pans and ladles are made of bronze, an alloy of
+copper and tin. They look very much like our kitchen furnishings.
+
+
+CENTAUR CUP.
+
+Some rich Pompeian had a pair of beautiful silver cups with graceful
+handles. The design was made in hammered silver, and showed centaurs
+talking to cupids that are sitting on their backs. A centaur was half
+man, half horse.
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF THE TRAGIC POET (restored).
+
+From the ruins and from ancient books, men know almost all the rooms of
+a Pompeian house. So they have pictured this one as it was before the
+disaster, with its many beautiful wall paintings, its mosaic floors, its
+tiled roofs. If you can imagine these two halves fitted together, and
+yourself inside, you can visit one of the most attractive houses in
+Pompeii. Do you see how the tiled roof slants downward from four sides
+to a rectangular opening in the highest part of the house? Below this
+opening was a shallow basin into which the rainwater fell. This basin
+was in the center of the atrium, the most important room in the house.
+The walls of this room were painted with scenes from the Trojan war.
+This is the house which has the mosaic picture of a dog on the floor of
+the long entrance hall (see next page). On each side of the hall, facing
+the street, are large rooms for shops, where, doubtless, the owner
+conducted his business. He was not a “Tragic Poet.” Some people think he
+was a goldsmith. On each side of the atrium were sleeping rooms. Can you
+see that the doors are very high with a grating at the top to let in
+light and air? Windows were few and small, and generally the rooms took
+light and air from the inside courts rather than from outside. Back of
+the atrium was a large reception room with bedrooms on each side. And
+back of this was a large open court, or garden, with a colonnade on
+three sides and a solid wall at the back. Opening on this garden was a
+large dining room with beautiful wall paintings, a tiny kitchen, and
+some sleeping rooms. This house had stairways and second story rooms
+over the shops. This seems to us a very comfortable homelike house.
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF THE TRAGIC POET (as it looks to-day).
+
+Here you see the shallow basin in the floor of the atrium. This basin
+had two outlets. You can see the round cistern mouth near the pool.
+There was also an outlet to the street to carry off the overflow. At the
+back of the garden you can see a shrine to the household gods. At every
+meal a portion was set aside in little dishes for the gods.
+
+
+MOSAIC OF WATCH DOG.
+
+From the vestibule of the House of the Tragic Poet. It says loudly,
+“Beware the dog!” Pictures and patterns made of little pieces of
+polished stone like this are called mosaic. Sometimes American
+vestibules are tiled in a simple mosaic. Wouldn’t it be fun if they had
+such exciting pictures as this? A real dog, or two or three, probably
+was standing inside the door, chained, or held by slaves.
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF DIOMEDE.
+
+There was a wine cellar under the colonnade. Here were twenty skeletons;
+two, children. Near the door were found skeletons of two men. One had a
+large key, doubtless the key of this door. He wore a gold ring and was
+carrying a good deal of money. He was probably the master of the house.
+Evidently the family thought at first that the wine cellar would be a
+safe place, but when they found that it was not so, the master took one
+slave and started out to find a way to escape. But they all perished.
+
+
+RUINS OF A BAKERY, WITH MILLSTONES.
+
+
+SECTION OF A MILL.
+
+If one of the mills that were found in the bakery were sawed in two, it
+would look like this. You can see where the baker’s man poured in the
+wheat, and where the flour dropped down, and the heavy timbers fastened
+to the upper millstone to turn it by.
+
+
+PORTRAIT OF LUCIUS CÆCILIUS JUCUNDUS.
+
+This Lucius was an auctioneer who had set free one of his slaves, Felix.
+Felix, in gratitude, had this portrait of his master cast in bronze.
+It stood on a marble pillar in the atrium of the house.
+
+
+BRONZE CANDLEHOLDER.
+
+It is the figure of the Roman God Silenus. He was the son of Pan, and
+the oldest of the satyrs, who were supposed to be half goat. Can you
+find the goat’s horns among his curls? He was a rollicking old satyr,
+very fond of wine, always getting into mischief. The grape design at the
+base of the little statue, and the snake supporting the candleholder,
+both are symbols of the sileni.
+
+
+THE DANCING FAUN.
+
+In one of the largest and most elegant houses in Pompeii, on the floor
+of the atrium, or principal room of the house, men found in the ashes
+this bronze statue of a dancing faun. Doesn’t he look as if he loved
+to dance, snapping his fingers to keep time? Although this great house
+contained on the floor of one room the most famous of ancient mosaic
+pictures, representing Alexander the Great in battle, and although it
+contains many other fine mosaics, it was named from this statue, the
+House of the Faun, Casa del Fauno.
+
+
+HERMES IN REPOSE.
+
+This bronze statue was found in Herculaneum, the city on the other slope
+of Vesuvius which was buried in liquid mud. This mud has become solid
+rock, from sixty to one hundred feet deep so that excavation is very
+difficult, and the city is still for the most part buried.
+
+
+THE ARCH OF NERO.
+
+The visitors to-day are walking where Caius walked so long ago on the
+same paving stones. The three stones were set up to keep chariots out of
+the forum.
+
+[ILLUSTRATION: _A Vase Store_]
+
+
+
+
+
+OLYMPIA
+
+TWO WINNERS OF CROWNS
+
+The July sun was blazing over the country of Greece. Dust from the dry
+plain hung in the air. But what cared the happy travelers for dust or
+heat? They were on their way to Olympia to see the games. Every road
+teemed with a chattering crowd of men and boys afoot and on horses. They
+wound down from the high mountains to the north. They came along the
+valley from the east and out from among the hills to the south. Up from
+the sea led the sacred road, the busiest of all. A little caravan of men
+and horses was trying to hurry ahead through the throng. The master
+rode in front looking anxiously before him as though he did not see the
+crowd. After him rode a lad. His eyes were flashing eagerly here and
+there over the strange throng. A man walked beside the horse and watched
+the boy smilingly. Behind them came a string of pack horses with slaves
+to guard the loads of wine and food and tents and blankets for their
+master’s camp.
+
+“What a strange-looking man, Glaucon!” said the boy. “He has a dark
+skin.”
+
+The boy’s own skin was fair, and under his hat his hair was golden. As
+he spoke he pointed to a man on the road who was also riding at the head
+of a little caravan. His skin was dark. Shining black hair covered his
+ears. His garment was gay with colored stripes.
+
+“He is a merchant from Egypt,” answered the man. “He will have curious
+things to sell--vases of glass, beads of amber, carved ivory, and
+scrolls gay with painted figures. You must see them, Charmides.”
+
+But already the boy had forgotten the Egyptian.
+
+“See the chariot!” he cried.
+
+It was slowly rolling along the stony road. A grave, handsome man stood
+in it holding the reins. Beside him stood another man with a staff in
+his hand. Behind the chariot walked two bowmen. After them followed a
+long line of pack horses led by slaves. “They are the delegates from
+Athens,” explained Glaucon. “There are, doubtless, rich gifts for Zeus
+on the horses and perhaps some stone tablets engraved with new laws.”
+
+But the boy was not listening.
+
+“Jugglers! Jugglers!” he cried.
+
+And there they were at the side of the road, showing their tricks and
+begging for coins. One man was walking on his hands and tossing a ball
+about with his feet. Another was swallowing a sword.
+
+“Stop, Glaucon!” cried Charmides, “I must see him. He will kill
+himself.”
+
+“No, my little master,” replied the slave. “You shall see him again at
+Olympia. See your father. He would be vexed if we waited.”
+
+And there was the master ahead, pushing forward rapidly, looking neither
+to the right hand nor the left. The boy sighed.
+
+“He is hurrying to see Creon. He forgets me!” he thought.
+
+But immediately his eyes were caught by some new thing, and his face
+was gay again. So the little company traveled up the sloping road amid
+interesting sights. For here were people from all the corners of the
+known world--Greeks from Asia in trailing robes, Arabs in white turbans,
+black men from Egypt, kings from Sicily, Persians with their curled
+beards, half civilized men from the north in garments of skin. “See!”
+ said Glaucon at last as they reached a hilltop, “the temple!”
+
+He pointed ahead. There shone the tip of the roof and its gold ornament.
+Hovering above was a marble statue with spread wings.
+
+“And there is Victory!” whispered Charmides. “She is waiting for Creon.
+She will never wait for me,” and he sighed.
+
+The crowd broke into a shout when they saw the temple. A company of
+young men flew by, singing a song. Charmides passed a sick man. The
+slaves had set down his litter, and he had stretched out his hands
+toward the temple and was praying. For the sick were sometimes cured
+by a visit to Olympia. The boy’s father had struck his heels into his
+horse’s sides and was galloping forward, calling to his followers to
+hasten.
+
+In a few moments they reached higher land. Then they saw the sacred
+place spread out before them. There was the wall all around it. Inside
+it shone a few buildings and a thousand statues. Along one side
+stretched a row of little marble treasure houses. At the far corner lay
+the stadion with its rows of stone seats. Nearer and outside the wall
+was the gymnasium. Even from a distance Charmides could see men running
+about in the court.
+
+“There are the athletes!” he thought. “Creon is with them.”
+
+Behind all these buildings rose a great hill, dark green with trees.
+Down from the hill poured a little stream. It met a wide river that
+wound far through the valley. In the angle of these rivers lay Olympia.
+The temple and walls and gymnasium were all of stone and looked as
+though they had been there forever. But in the meadow all around the
+sacred place was a city of winged tents. There were little shapeless
+ones of skins lying over sticks. There were round huts woven of rushes.
+There were sheds of poles with green boughs laid upon them. There were
+tall tents of gaily striped canvas. Farther off were horses tethered.
+And everywhere were gaily robed men moving about. Menon, Charmides’
+father, looking ahead from the high place, turned to a slave.
+
+“Run on quickly,” he said. “Save a camping place for us there on Mount
+Kronion, under the trees.”
+
+The man was off. Menon spoke to the other servants. “Push forward and
+make camp. I will visit the gymnasium. Come, Charmides, we will go to
+see Creon.”
+
+They rode down the slope toward Olympia. As they passed among the tents
+they saw friends and exchanged kind greetings.
+
+“Ah, Menon!” called one. “There is good news of Creon. Every one expects
+great things of him.”
+
+“I have kept room for your camp next my tent, Menon,” said another.
+
+“Here are sights for you, Charmides,” said a kind old man.
+
+Charmides caught a glimpse of gleaming marble among the crowd and
+guessed that some sculptor was showing his statues for sale. Yonder was
+a barber’s tent. Gentlemen were sitting in chairs and men were cutting
+their hair or rubbing their faces smooth with stone. In one place a
+man was standing on a little platform. A crowd was gathered about him
+listening, while he read from a scroll in his hands.
+
+But the boy had only a glimpse of these things, for his father was
+hurrying on. In a moment they crossed a bridge over a river and stopped
+before a low, wide building. Glaucon helped Charmides off his horse.
+Menon spoke a few words to the porter at the gate. The man opened the
+door and led the visitors in. Charmides limped along beside his father,
+for he was lame. That was what had made him sigh when he had seen
+Victory hovering over Olympia. She would never give him the olive
+branch. But now he did not think of that. His heart was beating fast.
+His eyes were big. For before him lay a great open court baking in the
+sun. More than a hundred boys were at work there, leaping, wrestling,
+hurling the disk, throwing spears. During the past months they had been
+living here, training for the games. The sun had browned their bare
+bodies. Now their smooth skins were shining with sweat and oil. As they
+bent and twisted they looked like beautiful statues turned brown and
+come alive. Among them walked men in long purple robes. They seemed to
+be giving commands.
+
+“They are the judges,” whispered Glaucon. “They train the boys.”
+
+All around the hot court ran a deep, shady portico. Here boys lay on
+the tiled floor or on stone benches, resting from their exercise. Near
+Charmides stood one with his back turned. He was scraping the oil and
+dust from his body with a strigil. Charmides’ eyes danced with joy
+at the beauty of the firm, round legs and the muscles moving in the
+shoulders. Then the athlete turned toward the visitors and Charmides
+cried out, “Creon!” and ran and threw his arms around him.
+
+Then there was gay talk; Creon asked about the home and mother and
+sisters in Athens, for he had been here in training for almost ten
+months. Menon and Charmides had a thousand questions about the games.
+
+“I know I shall win, father,” said Creon softly. “Four nights ago Hermes
+appeared to me in my sleep and smiled upon me. I awoke suddenly and
+there was a strange, sweet perfume in the air.”
+
+Tears sprang into his father’s eyes. “Now blessed be the gods!” he
+cried, “and most blessed Hermes, the god of the gymnasium!”
+
+After a little Menon and Charmides said farewell and went away through
+the chattering crowd and up under the cool trees on Mount Kronion to
+their camp. The slaves had cut poles and set them up and thrown a wide
+linen cover over them. Under it they had put a little table holding
+lumps of brown cheese, a flat loaf of bread, a basket of figs, a pile
+of crisp lettuce. Just outside the tent grazed a few goats. A man in a
+soiled tunic was squatted milking one. Menon’s slave stood waiting and,
+as his master came up, he took the big red bowl of foaming milk and
+carried it to the table. The goatherd picked up his long crook and
+started his flock on, calling, “Milk! Milk to sell!”
+
+Menon was gay now. His worries were over. His camp was pitched in a
+pleasant place. His son was well and sure of victory.
+
+“Come, little son,” he called to Charmides. “You must be as hungry as a
+wolf. But first our thanks to the gods.”
+
+A slave had poured a little wine into a flat cup and stood now offering
+it to his master. Menon took it and held it high, looking up into the
+blue heavens.
+
+“O gracious Hermes!” he cried aloud, “fulfill thy omen! And to Zeus, the
+father, and to all the immortals be thanks.”
+
+As he prayed he turned the cup and spilled the wine upon the ground.
+That was the god’s portion. A slave spread down a rug for his master
+to lie upon and put cushions under his elbow. Glaucon did the same for
+Charmides, and the meal began. Menon talked gaily about their journey,
+the games to-morrow, Creon’s training. But Charmides was silent. At last
+his father said:
+
+“Well, little wolf, you surely are gulping! Are you so starved?”
+
+“No,” said Charmides with full mouth. “I’m in a hurry. I want to see
+things.”
+
+His father laughed and leaped to his feet.
+
+“Just like me, lad. Come on!”
+
+Charmides snatched a handful of figs and rolled out of the tent
+squealing with joy. Menon came after him, laughing, and Glaucon followed
+to care for them. “The sun is setting,” said Menon. “It will soon be
+dark, and to-morrow are the games. They will keep us busy when they
+begin, so you must use your eyes to-day if you want to see the fair.”
+
+He stopped on the hillside and looked down into the sacred place.
+
+“It is wonderful!” he said, half to himself. “The home of glory! I love
+every stone of it. I have not been here since I myself won the single
+race. And now my son is to win it. That was when you were a baby,
+Charmides.”
+
+“I know, father,” whispered the boy with shining eyes. “I have kissed
+your olive wreath, where it hangs above our altar at home.”
+
+The father put his hand lovingly on the boy’s yellow head.
+
+“By the help of Hermes there soon will be a green one there for you to
+kiss, lad. The gods are very good to crown our family twice.”
+
+“I wish there were crowns for lame boys to win,” said Charmides. “I
+would win one!”
+
+He said that fiercely and clenched his fist. His father looked kindly
+into his eyes and spoke solemnly.
+
+“I think you would, my son. Perhaps there are such crowns.”
+
+They started on thoughtfully and soon were among the crowd. There were
+a hundred interesting sights. They passed an outdoor oven like a little
+round hill of stones and clay. The baker was just raking the fire out of
+the little door on the side. Charmides waited to see him put the loaves
+into the hot cave. But before it was done a horn blew and called him
+away to a little table covered with cakes.
+
+“Honey cakes! Almond cakes! Fig cakes!” sang the man. “Come buy!”
+
+There they lay--stars and fish and ships and temples. Charmides picked
+up one in the shape of a lyre.
+
+“I will take this one,” he said, and solemnly ate it.
+
+“Why are you so solemn, son?” laughed Menon.
+
+The boy did not answer. He only looked up at his father with deep eyes
+and said nothing. But in a moment he was racing off to see some rope
+dancers.
+
+“Glaucon,” said the master to the slave, “take care of the boy. Give him
+a good time. Buy him what he wants. Take him back to camp when he is
+tired. I have business to do.”
+
+Then he turned to talk with a friend, who had come up, and Glaucon
+followed his little master.
+
+What a good time the boy had! The rope dancers, the sword swallowers,
+the Egyptian with his painted scroll, a trained bear that wrestled with
+a wild-looking man dressed in skins, a cooking tent where whole sheep
+were roasting and turning over a fire, another where tiny fish were
+boiling in a great pot of oil and jumping as if alive--he saw them all.
+He stood under the sculptors’ awning and gazed at the marble people more
+beautiful than life. And when he came upon Apollo striking his lyre, his
+heart leaped into his mouth. He stood quiet for a long time gazing at
+this god of song. Then he walked out of the tent with shining eyes.
+
+At last it grew dark, and torches began to blaze in front of the booths.
+
+“Shall we go home, Charmides?” said Glaucon.
+
+“Oh, no!” cried the boy. “I haven’t seen it all. I am not tired. It is
+gayer now than ever with the torches. See all those shining flames.”
+
+And he ran to a booth where a hundred little bronze lamps hung, each
+with its tongue of clear light. It was an imagemaker’s booth. The table
+stood full of little clay statues of the gods. Charmides took up one. It
+was a young man leaning against a tree trunk. On his arm he held a baby.
+
+“It is a model of the great marble Hermes in the temple of Hera, my
+little master,” said the image maker. “Great Praxiteles made that one,
+poor Philo made this one.”
+
+“It is beautiful,” said Charmides and turned away, holding it tenderly
+in his hand.
+
+Glaucon waited a moment to pay for the figure. Then he followed
+Charmides who had walked on. He was standing on the bridge gazing at the
+water.
+
+“Glaucon,” he said, “I must see that statue of Hermes.”
+
+They stood there talking about the wonderful works of Praxiteles and of
+many another artist. Glaucon pointed to a little wooden shed lying in
+the meadow.
+
+“That,” he said, “is the workshop of Phidias. There he made the gold and
+ivory statue of Zeus that you shall see in Zeus’s temple. That workshop
+will stay there many a year, I think, for people to love because so
+great a thing was done there.”
+
+“Is it so wonderful?” asked Charmides.
+
+“When it was finished,” Glaucon answered solemnly, “Phidias stood before
+it and prayed to Zeus to tell him whether it pleased the god. Great Zeus
+heard the prayer, and in his joy at the beautiful thing he hurled a
+blazing thunderbolt and smote the floor before the statue as if to say,
+‘This image is Zeus himself.’ But I have never seen it, for a slave may
+not pass the sacred wall.”
+
+Now the full moon had risen, and the world was swimming in silver light.
+The statue of Victory hung over the sacred place on spread wings. Many
+another great form on its high pillar seemed standing in the deep sky
+above the world. The little pool in the pebbly river had stars in the
+bottom.
+
+“This Kladeos is a savage little river in the spring,” said Glaucon. “It
+tries to tear away our Olympia or drown it or cover it with sand. You
+see, men have had to fence it in with stone walls.”
+
+But Charmides was looking at the sacred place and its soft shining
+statues in the sky.
+
+“Let us walk around the wall,” he said.
+
+So they left the river and passed the gymnasium and the gate. Along this
+side the wall cast a wide shadow. Here they walked in silence. Here
+there were no tents, no torches, no noisy people. Everything was quiet
+in the evening air. The far-off sounds of the fair were a gentle hum. A
+hundred pictures were floating in Charmides’ mind--Phidias, Zeus, Creon
+with the strigil, his own little Hermes, the strange people in the fair,
+the marble Apollo under the sculptor’s tent. In a few moments they
+turned a corner and came out into the soft moonlight. A little beyond
+gleamed a broad river, the Alphaeus. Charmides and the slave went over
+and strolled along its banks. Here they were again in the crowd and
+among tents. They saw a group of people and went toward them. A man
+sat on a low knoll a little above the crowd. His hair hung about his
+shoulders and his long robe lay in glistening folds about his feet. A
+lyre rested on his knees, and he was striking the strings softly. The
+sweet notes floated high in the moonlit air. At last he lifted his voice
+and sang:
+
+  When the swan spreadeth out his wings to alight
+  On the whirling pools of the foaming stream,
+  He sendeth to thee, Apollo, a note.
+  When the sweet-voiced minstrel lifteth his lyre
+  And stretcheth his hand on the singing string,
+  He sendeth to thee, Apollo, a prayer.
+  Even so do I now, a worshiping bard,
+  With my heart lifted up to begin my lay,
+  Cry aloud to Apollo, the lord of song.
+
+Then he sang of that lordliest of all minstrels, Orpheus--how the trees
+swung circling about to his music; how the savage beasts lay down at his
+feet to listen; how the rocks rose up at his bidding and followed him,
+dancing, to build a town without hands; how he went to the dismal land
+of the dead to seek his wife and with his clear lyre and sweet voice
+drew tears from the iron heart of the king of hell and won back his
+loved Eurydice and lost her again the same hour.
+
+The boy, sitting there in the moonlight, went floating away on the song
+until he felt himself straying through that fair garden of the dead with
+singing lyre or riding with Artemis through the sky in her moon chariot.
+
+When the song was ended, Glaucon said, “Come, little master, you have
+fallen asleep. Let us go home.”
+
+And Charmides rose and went, still clutching his image of Hermes in his
+hand and still holding the song fast in his heart.
+
+In the morning the whole great camp was awake and moving long before
+daylight. Every man and boy was in his fairest clothes. On every head
+was a fresh fillet. Every hand bore some beautiful gift for the gods--a
+vase, a plate of gold, an embroidered robe, a basket of silver. All were
+pouring to the open gate in the sacred wall. Here a procession formed.
+Young men led cattle with gilded horns and swinging garlands, or sheep
+with clean, combed wool. Stately priests in long chitons paced to the
+music of flutes. The judges glowed in their purple robes. Then walked
+the athletes, their eyes burning with excitement. And last came all the
+visitors with gift-laden hands. The slaves and foreigners crowded at
+the gate to see the procession pass, for on this first holy day only
+freedmen and Greeks of pure blood might visit the sacred shrines. When
+Charmides passed through, his heart leaped. Here was no empty field with
+a few altars. He had never seen a greater crowd in the busy market place
+at home in Athens. But here the people were even more beautiful than
+the Athenians. Their limbs were round and perfect. They stood always
+gracefully. Their garments hung in delicate folds, for they were people
+made by great artists--people of marble and of bronze. All the gods of
+Olympos were there, and athletes of years gone by, wrestling, running,
+hurling the disc. There were bronze chariots with horses of bronze to
+draw them and men of bronze to hold the reins. There were heroes of Troy
+still fighting. And here and there were little altars of marble or
+stone or earth or ashes with an ancient, holy statue. At every one the
+procession halted. The priests poured a libation and chanted a prayer.
+The people sang a hymn. Many left gifts piled about the altar. Before
+Hermes Charmides left his little clay image of the god. And while
+the priests prayed aloud, the boy sent up a whispered prayer for his
+brother.
+
+Once the procession came before a low, narrow temple. It was of
+sun-dried bricks coated with plaster. Its columns were all different
+from one another. Some were slender, others thick; some fluted, others
+plain; and all were brightly painted. Charmides smiled up at his father.
+
+“It is not so beautiful as the Parthenon,” he said.
+
+“No,” his father answered, “but it is very old and very holy. Every
+generation of man has put a new column here. That is why they are not
+alike. This is the ancient temple of Hera.”
+
+Then they entered the door. Down the long aisle they walked between
+small open rooms on either side. Here stood statues gazing out--some of
+marble, some of gold and ivory. The priests had moved to the front and
+stood praying before the ancient statues of Zeus and Hera. But suddenly
+Charmides stopped and would go no farther. For here, in a little room
+all alone, stood his Hermes with the baby Dionysus. The boy cried out
+softly with joy and crept toward the lovely thing. He gently touched the
+golden sandal. He gazed into the kind blue eyes and smiled. The marble
+was delicately tinted and glowed like warm skin. A frail wreath of
+golden leaves lay on the curling hair. Charmides looked up at the tiny
+baby and laughed at its coaxing arms.
+
+“Are you smiling at him?” he whispered to Hermes. “Or are you dreaming
+of Olympos? Are you carrying him to the nymphs on Mount Nysa?” And then
+more softly still he said, “Do not forget Creon, blessed god.”
+
+When his father came back he found him still gazing into the quiet face
+and smiling tenderly with love of the beautiful thing. As Menon led him
+away, he waved a loving farewell to the god.
+
+The most wonderful time was after the sacrifice to Zeus before the great
+temple with its deep porches and its marble watchers in the gable.
+The altar was a huge pile of ashes. For hundreds of years Greeks had
+sacrificed here. The holy ashes had piled up and piled up until they
+stood as a hill more than twenty feet high. The people waited around the
+foot of it, watching. The priests walked up its side. Men led up the
+sleek cattle to be slain for the feast of the gods. And on the very top
+a fire leaped toward heaven. Far up in the sky Charmides could half
+see the beautiful gods leaning down and smiling upon their worshiping
+people.
+
+Then he turned and walked with the crowd under the temple porch and into
+the great, dim room. He trembled and grasped his father’s hand in awe.
+For there in the soft light towered great Zeus. In embroidered robes of
+dull gold he sat high on his golden throne. His hands held his scepter
+and his messenger eagle. His great yellow curls almost touched the
+ceiling. He bent his divine face down, and his deep eyes glowed upon his
+people. Sweet smoke was curling upward, and the room rang with a hymn.
+
+As Charmides gazed into the solemn face, a strange light quivered about
+it, and the boy’s heart shook with awe. The words of Homer sprang to his
+lips:
+
+“Zeus bowed his head. The divine hair streamed back from the kindly
+brows, and great Olympos quaked.”
+
+After the sacrifices were over there was time to wander again among the
+statues and to sit on the benches under the cool porches and watch the
+moving crowd and the glittering sun on the gold ornaments of the temple
+peaks. Then there was time to see again the strange sights of the fair
+in the plain. The next morning was noisier and gayer than anything
+Charmides had ever known. While it was still twilight his father hurried
+him down the hill and through the gates, on through the sacred enclosure
+to another gate. And all about them was a hurrying, noisy crowd. They
+stumbled up some steps and began to wait. As the light grew, Charmides
+saw all about him men and boys, sitting or standing, and all gaily
+talking. Below the crowd he saw a long, narrow stretch of ground. He
+clapped his hands. That was the ground Creon’s feet would run upon! Up
+and down both sides of the track went long tiers of stone seats. They
+were packed with people who were there to see Creon win. The seats
+curved around one narrow end of the course. But across the other end
+stood a wall with a gate. Menon pointed to a large white board hanging
+on the wall and said, “See! The list of athletes.”
+
+Here were written names, and among them, “Creon, son of the Olympic
+winner Menon.” Charmides’ eyes glowed with pride.
+
+Every eye was watching the gate. Soon the purple-clad judges entered.
+Some of them walked the whole length of the stadion and took their seats
+opposite the goal posts. Two or three waited at the starting line. There
+was a blast of a trumpet. Then a herald cried something about games
+for boys and about only Greeks of pure blood and about the blessing of
+Hermes of the race course.
+
+Immediately there entered a crowd of boys, while the spectators sent
+up a rousing cheer. The lads gathered to cast lots for places. At last
+eight of them stepped out and stood at the starting line. Creon was not
+among them. A post with a little fluttering flag was between every two.
+The boys threw off their clothes and stood ready. One of the judges said
+to them:
+
+“The eyes of the world are upon you. Your cities love an Olympic winner.
+From Olympos the gods look down upon you. For the glory of your cities,
+for the joy of your fathers, for your own good name, I exhort you to do
+your best.”
+
+Then he gave the signal and the runners shot forward. Down the long
+course they went with twinkling legs. The spectators cheered, called
+their names, waved their chlamyses and himations. Their friends cried
+to the gods to help. Down they ran, two far ahead, others stringing out
+behind. Every runner’s eyes were on the marble goal post with its little
+statue of Victory. In a moment it was over, and Leotichides had first
+laid hand upon the post and was winner of the first heat.
+
+Immediately eight other boys took their places at the starting line.
+Charmides snatched his father’s hand and held it tight, for Creon was
+one of them. Another signal and they were off, with Creon leading by
+a pace or two. So it was all the way, and he gave a glad shout as he
+touched the goal post.
+
+Charmides heard men all about him say:
+
+“A beautiful run!”
+
+“How easily he steps!”
+
+“We shall see him do something in the last heat.”
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+And when the herald announced the name of the winner, the benches buzzed
+with,
+
+“Creon, Creon, son of Menon the Athenian.”
+
+Four more groups were called and ran. Then the six winners stepped up
+to the line. This time the goal was the altar at the farther end of the
+stadion. A wave of excitement ran around the seats. Everybody leaned
+forward. The signal! Leotichides sprang a long pace ahead. Next came
+Creon, loping evenly. One boy stumbled and fell behind. The other three
+were running almost side by side. Menon was muttering between his teeth:
+
+“Hermes, be his aid! Great Zeus look upon him! Herakles give him wind!”
+
+Now they were near the goal, and Leotichides was still leading by a
+stride. Then Creon threw back his head and stretched out his legs and
+with ten great leaps he had touched the altar a good pace ahead. He had
+won the race.
+
+The crowd went wild with shouting. Menon leaped over men’s heads and
+went running down the course calling for his son. But the guards caught
+him and forced him back upon the seats. Charmides sat down and wept for
+joy. And nobody saw him, for everybody was cheering and watching the
+victor.
+
+One of the judges stepped out and gave a torch to Creon. The boy touched
+the flame to the pile on the altar. As the fire sprang up, he stretched
+his hands to the sky and cried,
+
+“O blessed Hermes, Creon will not forget thy help.”
+
+As he turned away the judge gave him a palm in sign of victory. The boy
+walked back down the course with the palm waving over his shoulder. His
+body was glistening, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were burning
+with joy. He was looking up at the crowd, hoping to see his father and
+brother. And at every step men reached out a hand to him or called
+to him, until at last Menon’s own loving arms pulled him up upon the
+benches. Then there was such a noise that no one heard any one else, but
+everybody knew that everybody was happy. Men pushed their heads over
+other men’s shoulders, and boys peeped between their fathers’ legs to
+see the Olympic winner. And in that circle of faces Menon stood with
+his arms about Creon, laughing and crying. And Charmides clung to his
+brother’s hand. But at last Creon whispered to his father:
+
+“I must go and make ready. I am entered for the pentathlon, also.”
+
+Menon cried out in wonder.
+
+“I kept that news for a surprise,” laughed Creon. “Good-by, little one,”
+ he said to Charmides, and pushed through the crowd.
+
+Menon sat down trembling. If his boy should win in the pentathlon also!
+That would be too great glory. It could not happen. He began to mutter a
+hundred prayers. Another race was called--the double race, twice around
+the course. But Menon did not stand to see it. He could think of nothing
+but his glorious son. After the race was another great shout. Some other
+boy was carrying a palm. Some other father was proud. Then followed
+wrestling, bout after bout, and cheering from the crowd. But Menon cared
+little for it all.
+
+It was now near noon. The sun shone down scorchingly. A wind whirled
+dust up from the race course into people’s faces.
+
+“My throat needs wetting,” cried a man.
+
+He pulled off a little vase of wine that hung from his girdle and passed
+it to Menon, saying:
+
+“I should be proud if the father of the victor would drink from my
+bottle.”
+
+And Menon took it, smiling proudly. Then he himself opened a little
+cloth bag and drew out figs and nuts.
+
+“Here is something to munch, lad,” he said to Charmides.
+
+Other people, also, were eating and drinking. They walked about to visit
+their friends or sat down to rest. Menon’s neighbor sank upon his seat
+with a sigh.
+
+“This is the first time I have sat down since sunrise,” he laughed.
+
+Then the pentathlon was announced. Everyone leaped to his feet again. A
+group of boys stood ready behind a line. One of the judges was softening
+the ground with a pick. An umpire made a speech to the lads. Then, at a
+word, a boy took up the lead jumping weights. He swung his hands back
+and forth, swaying his graceful body with them. Then a backward jerk! He
+threw his weights behind him and leaped. The judges quickly measured
+and called the distance. Then another boy leaped, and another, and
+another--twenty or more. Last Creon took the weights and toed the line.
+
+“Creon! Creon!” shouted the crowd: “The victor! Creon again!”
+
+He swung and swayed and then sailed through the air.
+
+“By Herakles!” shouted a man near Charmides. “He alights like a
+sea-gull.”
+
+There went up a great roar from the benches even before the judges
+called the distance. For any one could see that he had passed the
+farthest mark. The first of the five games was over and Creon had won
+it.
+
+Now the judges brought a discus. A boy took it and stepped behind the
+line. He fitted the lead plate into the crook of his hand. He swung it
+back and forth, bending his knees and turning his body. Then it flew
+into the air and down the course. Where it stopped rolling an umpire
+marked and called the distance.
+
+“I like this game best of all,” said a man behind Charmides. “The whole
+body is in it. Every movement is graceful. See the curve of the back,
+the beautiful bend of the legs, the muscles working over the chest! The
+body moves to and fro as if to music.”
+
+One after another the boys took their turn. But when Creon threw,
+Charmides cried out in sorrow, and Menon groaned. His disc fell short of
+the mark. He was third.
+
+“It was gracefully done,” Charmides heard some one say, “but his arms
+are not so good as his legs. See the arms and chest of that Timon. No
+one can throw against him.”
+
+After that a judge set up a shield in the middle of the course. Every
+boy snatched a spear from a pile on the ground and threw at the central
+boss of the shield. Again Creon was beaten. Phormio of Corinth, son of a
+famous warrior, won.
+
+Then they paired off for wrestling. Creon and Eudorus of Aegina were
+together. Each boy poured oil into his hand from a little vase and
+rubbed the body of his antagonist to limber his muscles. Then he took
+fine sand from a box and dusted it over his skin for the oiled body
+might slip out of his arms in the wrestling match. Then, at a signal,
+the pairs of wrestlers faced each other.
+
+Creon held his hands out ready, bent his knees, thrust forward his head,
+and stood waiting. Eudorus leaped to and fro around him trying to get a
+hold. At last he rushed at him. Creon caught him around the waist and
+hurled him to the ground. Charmides laughed and shouted and clapped
+his hands. That was one throw. There must be three. Eudorus was up
+immediately and was circling around and around again. Suddenly Creon
+leaped low and caught him by the leg and threw him. He had won two bouts
+out of three and stood victor without a throw.
+
+Soon all the pairs had finished. The eight victors stood forth and cast
+lots for new partners. Again they wrestled. This time, also, Creon won.
+Then these four winners paired off and wrestled, and at the end Creon
+and Timon were left to try it together.
+
+In the first bout the Spartan boy lifted Creon off the ground and threw
+him, back down. Then the men on the benches began shouting advice.
+
+“Look out for his arms!”
+
+“Don’t let him grapple you!”
+
+“Feint, feint!”
+
+Creon leaped to his feet. He began circling around Timon as Eudorus had
+circled around him. He dodged out from under Timon’s arms. He wriggled
+from between his hands. The benches rang with cheers and laughs.
+
+“He is an eel,” cried one man.
+
+Suddenly Creon ducked under Timon’s arms, caught him by his legs and
+tripped him. The two boys were even.
+
+In the next bout Timon ran at Creon like a wild bull. He caught him
+around the waist in his strong arms to whirl him to the ground. But with
+a crook of his leg Creon tripped him and wriggled out of his arms before
+he fell.
+
+Menon caught up Charmides and threw him to his shoulder laughing and
+stamping his feet.
+
+“Do you see, lad?” he cried. “He has won two games. Only the race is
+left, and we know how he can run.”
+
+And how he did run! He threw back his head and leaped out like a deer,
+skimming over the ground in long strides and leaving his dust to the
+others. He had the three games out of five and was winner of the
+pentathlon.
+
+Then there was no holding the crowd. They poured down off the seats and
+ran to Creon. Some lifted him upon their shoulders and carried him out
+of the stadion, for this was the end of the games for that day. And
+those who could not come near Creon and his waving palms crowded around
+Menon. So they went, shouting, out of the gate and among the statues and
+on to the river. There they put Creon down, and his father and Charmides
+led him away to camp.
+
+That was the happiest night of Charmides’ life. He heard his wonderful
+brother talk for hours of the life in the gymnasium. He heard new tales
+of Creon’s favorite god, Hermes. He heard of the women’s games that were
+held once a year at Olympia in honor of Hera. He heard a hundred new
+names of boys and cities, for there had been, athletes from every corner
+of Greece in training here. He held the victor’s palms in his own hands.
+He slept beside this double winner of Olympic crowns. He dreamed that
+Apollo and Hermes came hand in hand and gazed down at him and Creon as
+they lay sleeping and dropped a great garland over them both. It was
+twined of Olympic olive leaves and Apollo’s own laurel.
+
+On the next day there were games for the men, like those the boys had
+played. On the day after that there were chariot races in a wide place
+outside the walls. Every night there was still the gay noise of the
+fair. But instead of going to see it, Charmides stretched himself under
+the trees on Mount Kronion and gazed up at the moon and dreamed.
+
+Then came the last day, with its great procession again and its
+sacrifices at every altar. The proud victors walked with their palm
+leaves in their hands. In the temple of Zeus, under the eyes of the
+glowing god, the priests put the precious olive crowns upon the winners’
+heads. They were made from sacred olive leaves. They were cut with a
+golden sickle from the very tree that godlike Herakles had brought out
+of the far north. That wreath it was which should be more dear than a
+chest of gold to Creon’s family and Creon’s city. That was the crown
+which poets should sing about. When the priest set the crown upon
+Creon’s head, Charmides thought he felt a god’s hands upon his own brow.
+Menon leaned upon a friend’s shoulder and burst into tears.
+
+“I could die happy now,” he said. “I have done enough for Athens in
+giving her such a glorious son.”
+
+As the three walked back to camp, Menon said:
+
+“Who shall write your chorus of triumph, Creon? Already my messengers
+have reached Athens, and the dancers are chosen who shall lead you home.
+But the song is not yet made. It must be a glorious one!”
+
+Then Charmides blushingly whispered,
+
+“May I sing you something, father? Apollo helped me to make it.”
+
+His father smiled down in surprise. “So that is why you have been lying
+so quiet under the trees these moonlit nights!” he said.
+
+Charmides ran ahead and was sitting thrumming a lyre when his father
+and Creon came up. He struck a long, ringing chord and raised his clear
+voice in a dancing song:
+
+  When Creon, son of Menon, bore off the Olympic olive,
+  Mount Kronion shook with shouting of Hellas’ hosts assembled.
+  They praised his manly beauty, his grace and strength of body.
+  They praised his eyes’ alertness, the smoothness of his muscles.
+  They blessed his happy father and wished themselves his brothers.
+  Sweet rang the glorious praises in ears of Creon’s lovers.
+  But I, when upward gazing, beheld a sight more wondrous.
+  The gates of high Olympos were open wide and clanging,
+  Deserted ev’ry palace, the golden city empty.
+  And all the gods were gathered above Olympia’s race-course,
+  They smiled upon my Creon and gifts upon him showered.
+  From golden Aphrodite dropped half a hundred graces.
+  Athene made him skillful. Boon Hermes gave him litheness.
+  Fierce Ares added courage, Queen Hera happy marriage.
+  Diana’s blessed fingers into his soul shed quiet.
+  Lord Bacchus gave him friendship and graces of the banquet,
+  Poseidon luck in travel, and Zeus decreed him victor.
+  Apollo, smiling, watched him and saw his thousand blessings.
+  “Enough,” he said, “for Creon. I’ll bless the empty-handed.”
+   He turned to where I trembled, and stepping downward crowned me.
+  “To thee my gift,” he whispered, “to sing thy brother’s glory.”
+
+“Well done, little poet!” cried Menon.
+
+“A happy man am I. One son is beloved by Hermes, the other by Apollo.
+Bring wax tablets, Glaucon, and write down the song. I will prepare a
+messenger to hurry with it to Athens.”
+
+So it happened that a lame boy won a crown. And when Creon stepped
+ashore at Pirseus, and all Athens stood shouting his name, a chorus of
+boys came dancing toward him singing his brother’s song. Creon was led
+home wearing Zeus’ wreath upon his head, and Charmides with Apollo’s
+crown in his heart. [Illustration: _A Coin of Alexander the Great_. It
+shows Zeus sitting on his throne.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW A CITY WAS LOST
+
+Such was Olympia long ago. Every four years such games took place. Then
+the plain was crowded and busy and gay. Year after year new statues were
+set up, new gifts were brought, new buildings were made. Olympia was
+one of the richest places in the world. Its fame flew to every land. At
+every festival new people came to see its beauties. It was the meeting
+place of the world.
+
+But meantime the bad fortune of Greece began. Her cities quarreled and
+fought among themselves. A king came down from the north and conquered
+her. After that the Romans sailed over from Italy and conquered her
+again. Often Roman emperors carried off some of her statues to make Rome
+beautiful. Shipload after shipload they took. The new country was filled
+with Greek statues. The old one was left almost empty. Later, after
+Christ was born, and the Romans and the Greeks had become Christian, the
+emperor said,
+
+“It is not fitting for Christians to hold a festival in honor of a
+heathen god.” And he stopped the games. He took away the gold and silver
+gifts from the treasure houses. He carried away the gold and ivory
+statues. Where Phidias’ wonderful Zeus went nobody knows. Perhaps the
+gold was melted to make money. Olympia sat lonely and deserted by her
+river banks. Summer winds whirled dust under her porches. Rabbits made
+burrows in Zeus’ altar. Doors rusted off their hinges. Foxes made their
+dens in Hera’s temple. Men came now and then to melt up a bronze statue
+for swords or to haul away the stones of her temples for building.
+The Alpheios kept eating away its banks and cutting under statues and
+monuments. Many a beautiful thing crumbled and fell into the river and
+was rolled on down to the sea. Men sometimes found a bronze helmet or a
+marble head in the bed of the stream.
+
+After a long time people came and lived among the ruins. On an old
+temple floor they built a little church. Men lived in the temple of
+Zeus, and women spun and gossiped where the golden statue had sat. In
+the temple of Hera people set up a wine press. Did they know that the
+little marble baby in the statue near them was the god of the vineyard
+and had taught men to make wine? Out of broken statues and columns and
+temple stones they built a wall around the little town to keep out their
+enemies. Sometimes when they found a bronze warrior or a marble god they
+must have made strange stories about it, for they had half forgotten
+those wonderful old Greeks. But the marble statues they put into a kiln
+to make lime to plaster their houses. The bronze ones they melted up for
+tools. Sometimes they found a piece of gold. They thought themselves
+lucky then and melted it over into money.
+
+But an earthquake shook down the buildings and toppled over the statues.
+The columns and walls of the grand old temple of Zeus fell in a heap.
+The marble statues in its pediments dropped to the ground and broke.
+Victory fell from her high pillar and shattered into a hundred pieces.
+The roof of Hera’s temple fell in, and Hermes stood uncovered to the
+sky. Old Kronion rocked and sent a landslide down over the treasure
+houses. Kladeos rushed out of his course and poured sand over the sacred
+place.
+
+That earthquake frightened the people away, and they left Olympia alone
+again. Hermes was still there, but he looked out upon ruins. Victory lay
+in a heap of fragments. Apollo was there, but broken and buried in earth
+with the other people of the pediments. Zeus and all the hundreds of
+heroes and athletes were gone. So it was for a while. Then a new race of
+people came and built another little town upon the earth-covered ruins.
+They little guessed what lay below their poor houses. But for some
+reason this town, also, died and left the ruins alone. Then dusty winds
+and flooding rivers began to cover up what was left. Kladeos piled up
+sand fifteen feet deep. Alpheios swung out of its banks and washed away
+the race-course for chariots. Under the rains and floods the sun-dried
+bricks of Hera’s walls melted again into clay and covered the floor.
+Again the earth quaked, and Hermes fell forward on his face, and little
+was left of the beautiful old Olympia. Grass and flowers crept in from
+the sides. Seeds blew in and shrubs and trees took the place of columns.
+Soon the flowers and the animals had Olympia to themselves. A few gray
+stones thrust up through the soil. So it was for hundreds of years.
+Greece was conquered by the men of Venice and then by the Turks. But
+Olympia, in its far corner, was forgotten and untouched except when a
+Turkish officer or farmer went there to dig a few stones out of the
+ground. And they knew nothing of the ancient gods and the ancient
+festival and the old story of the place, for they were foreigners and
+new people.
+
+But about a hundred years ago Englishmen and Germans and Frenchmen began
+to visit Greece. They went to see, not her new Turkish houses or her
+Venetian castles or the strange dress of her new people, but her old
+ruins and the signs of her old glory. These men had read of Olympia in
+ancient Greek books and they knew what statues and buildings had once
+stood there. They wrote back to their friends things like this:
+
+“I saw a piece of a huge column lying on top of the ground. It was seven
+feet across. It must have belonged to the temple of Zeus.”
+
+“To-day I saw a long, low place in the ground where I think must have
+been the stadion in ancient days.”
+
+At last, about thirty years ago, Ernst Curtius and several other Germans
+went there. They were men who had studied Greek history and Greek art
+and they planned to excavate Olympia.
+
+“We will uncover the sacred enclosure again. Men shall see again the
+ancient temples and altars, the stadion, the statues.”
+
+Germany had given them money for the work, and at last Greece allowed
+them to begin. In October they started their digging. Workmen up-rooted
+shrubs and dug away dirt. Excavators watched every spadeful. They were
+always measuring, making maps, taking notes. They found a few vases,
+terra cotta figures, pieces of bronze statues, swords and armor. They
+cleared off temple floors and were able to make out the plans of the old
+buildings. They found the empty pedestals of many statues. Yet they were
+disappointed. Olympia had been a beautiful place, a rich place. They
+were finding only the hints of these things. The beauty was gone. Of the
+three thousand statues that had been there should they not find one?
+
+Then they uncovered the fallen statues of the pediments of Zeus’ temple.
+Thirty or more there were--Apollo, Zeus, heroes, women, centaurs,
+horses. Arms were gone, heads were broken, legs were lost. The
+excavators fitted together all the pieces and set the mended statues up
+side by side as they had been in the gable. They found, too, the carved
+marble slabs that showed the labors of Herakles. But even these were not
+the lovely things that people had hoped to see from Olympia. They were
+rather stiff and ungraceful. They had not been made by the greatest
+artists. In the temple of Hera one day men were digging in clay. Over
+all the rest of Olympia was only sand. The excavators wondered for a
+long time why this one spot should have clay. Where could it have come
+from? They read their old books over and over. They thought and studied.
+At last they said:
+
+“The walls of the temple must have been made of sun-dried brick. In the
+old days they must have been covered with plaster. This and the roof
+kept them dry. But the plaster cracked off, and the roof fell in, and
+the rain and the floods turned the bricks back to clay again.”
+
+Then one May morning, when the men were digging in the clay, a workman
+lifted off his spadeful of dirt, and white marble gleamed out. After
+that there was careful work, with all the excavators standing about to
+watch. What would it be? They thought over all the statues that the
+ancient books said had stood in Hera’s temple. Then were slowly
+uncovered, a smooth back, a carved shoulder, a curly head. A white
+statue of a young man lay face down in the gray clay. The legs were
+gone. The right arm was missing. From his left hung carved drapery. On
+his left shoulder lay a tiny marble hand.
+
+“It is the Hermes of Praxiteles,” the excavators whispered among
+themselves.
+
+In his day Praxiteles had been almost as famous as Phidias. The old
+Greek world had rung with his praises. Modern men had dreamed of what
+his statues must have been and had longed to see them. How did he shape
+the head? How did his bodies curve? What expression was on his faces?
+All these things they had wished to know. But not one of his statues
+had ever been found. Now here lay one before the very eyes of these
+excavators. They put out their hands and lovingly touched the polished
+marble skin. But what would they find when they lifted it?--Perhaps the
+nose would be gone, the face flattened by the fall, the ears broken, the
+beautiful marble chipped. They almost feared to lift it. But at last
+they did so.
+
+When they saw the face, they were struck dumb by its beauty, and I think
+tears sprang into the eyes of some of them. No such perfect piece of
+marble had ever been found before. There was not a scratch. The skin
+still glowed with the polishing that Praxiteles’ own hands had given it.
+There was even a hint of color on the lips. The soft clay bed had saved
+the falling statue. Here was a statue that the whole world would love.
+It would make the name of Olympia famous again. The excavators were
+proud and happy. That old ruined temple seemed indeed a sacred place to
+them as they gazed upon perhaps the most beautiful statue in the world.
+
+“Surely we shall find nothing else so perfect,” they said.
+
+Yet they went on with the work. Before long Hermes’ right foot was found
+imbedded in the clay. Its sandal still shone with the gilding put on two
+thousand years before. Workmen were tearing down one of the houses of
+the little town that had been built on the ancient ruins. Every stone in
+it had some old story. Pieces of fluted columns, carved capitals, broken
+pedestals, blocks from the temple of Zeus--all were cemented together to
+make these walls. The workmen pulled and chipped and lifted out piece
+after piece. The excavators studied each scrap to see whether it was
+valuable. And at last they found a baby’s body. They carefully broke off
+the mortar. It was of creamy marble, beautifully carved. They carried it
+to Hermes. It fitted upon the drapery over his arm. On a rubbish heap
+outside the temple they had found a little marble head. They put it upon
+this baby’s shoulders. It was badly broken, but they could see that it
+belonged there. So after two thousand years Hermes again smiled into the
+eyes of the baby Dionysus.
+
+Other things were found. The shattered Victory was uncovered. Carefully
+the excavators fitted the pieces together. But the wide wings could
+never be made again, and the head was ruined. Even so, the statue is a
+beautiful thing, with its thin drapery flying in the wind.
+
+After five years the work was finished. Now again hundreds of visitors
+journey to Olympia every year. They see no gleaming roofs and
+high-lifted statues and joyful games. They walk among sad ruins. But
+they can tread the gymnasium floor where Creon and many another victor
+wrestled. They can enter the gate of the grass-grown stadion. They can
+see the fallen columns of the temple of Zeus. In the museum they can see
+the statues of its pediments and, at the end of the long hall, they
+see Victory stepping toward them. They can wander on the banks of the
+Kladeos and the Alpheios. They can climb Mount Kronion and see the whole
+little plain and imagine it gay with tents and moving people.
+
+All these things are interesting to those who like the old Greek life.
+But most people make the long journey only to see Hermes. In the museum,
+in a little room all alone, he stands, always calm and lovable, always
+dreaming of something beautiful, always half smiling at the coaxing
+baby.
+
+
+
+
+PICTURES OF OLYMPIA
+
+
+ENTRANCE TO STADION.
+
+This was not the gate where Charmides entered. This entrance was
+reserved for the judges, the competitors, and the heralds. Inside there
+were seats for forty-five thousand people. On one side the hill made a
+natural slope for seats. But on the other sides a ridge of earth had to
+be built up. The track was about two hundred yards long. Only the two
+ends have been excavated. The rest still lies deep under the sand.
+
+
+GYMNASIUM.
+
+Here Creon and the other boys spent a month in training before the
+games. The gymnasium had a covered portico as long as the track in the
+stadion, where the boys could run in bad weather. A Greek boy of to-day
+is playing on his shepherd’s pipes in the foreground, and they are the
+same kind of pipes on which the old Greeks played.
+
+
+BOYS IN GYMNASIUM.
+
+From a vase painting. They are wrestling, jumping with weights, throwing
+the spear, throwing the discus, while their teachers watch them. One man
+is saying, “A beautiful boy, truly.”
+
+
+THE TEMPLE OF ZEUS.
+
+When we see a picture of fallen broken columns lying about a field
+in disorder, we try to learn how the original building looked and to
+imagine it in all its beauty. This, men believe, is the way the Temple
+of Zeus looked. The figures in the pediment were all of Parian marble.
+In the center stands Zeus himself. A chariot race is about to be run,
+and the contestants stand on either side of Zeus. Zeus gave the victory
+to Pelops, and Pelops became husband of Hippodameia, and king of Pisa,
+and founded the Olympic Games. These games were held every fourth year
+for more than a thousand years.
+
+  Note: This and the following plates of the Labors of Herakles and the
+  statue of Victory, were photographed from Curtius and Adler’s
+  “Olympia: Die Ergebnisse der von dem Deutschen Reich Veranstalteten
+  Ausgrabung,” etc. This is one of the most beautiful books ever made
+  for a buried city.
+
+Boys and girls who can reach the Metropolitan Museum Library should not
+miss it. It is in many volumes, each almost as large as the top of the
+table, and you do not need to read German to appreciate the plates.
+
+
+THE LABORS OF HERAKLES.
+
+Under the porches of the Temple of Zeus were twelve pictures in marble,
+six at each end, showing the Labors of Herakles. Herakles was highly
+honored at Olympia and, according to one tale, he, instead of Pelops,
+was the founder of the Olympic Games.
+
+[Illustration: Herakles and the Nemean lion.--_Metropolitan Museum_]
+
+[Illustration: Herakles and the hydra.--_Metropolitan Museum_]
+
+
+THE STATUE OF VICTORY.
+
+In the sand, not far from the Temple of Zeus, the explorers found the
+fragments of this statue. It shows the goddess flying down from heaven
+to bring victory to the men of Messene and Naupaktos. So the victors
+must have erected this statue at Olympia in gratitude.
+
+Something like the picture used as the frontispiece, men believe the
+statue looked originally. It stood upon a base thirty feet high so that
+the goddess really looked as if she were descending from heaven.
+
+
+THE TEMPLE OF HERA.
+
+This shows the ruins of the temple where Charmides saw the statue of
+Hermes, perhaps the most beautiful statue in the world.
+
+
+HEAD OF AN ATHLETE.
+
+The Greek artist who made this statue believed that a beautiful body is
+glorious, as well as a beautiful mind, and a fine spirit. Do you
+think his statue shows all these things? The original is now at the
+Metropolitan Museum.
+
+
+A GREEK HORSEMAN.
+
+The artist had great skill who could chisel out of marble such a strong,
+bold rider, and such a spirited horse.
+
+  This picture and the one before it are not pictures of things found at
+  Olympia. They are two of the most beautiful statues of Greek athletes,
+  and we give them to remind you of the sort of people who came to the
+  games at Olympia.
+
+
+
+
+
+MYCENAE
+
+
+HOW A LOST CITY WAS FOUND
+
+Thirty years ago a little group of people stood on a hill in Greece. The
+hilltop was covered with soft soil. The summer sun had dried the grass
+and flowers, but little bushes grew thick over the ground. In this way
+the hill was like an ordinary hill, but all around the edge of it ran
+the broken ring of a great wall. In some places it stood thirty feet
+above the earth. Here and there it was twenty feet thick. It was built
+of huge stones. At one place a tower stood up. In another two stone
+lions stood on guard. It was these ruined walls that interested the
+people on the hill. One of the men was a Greek. A red fez was on his
+head. He wore an embroidered jacket and loose white sleeves. A stiff
+kilted skirt hung to his knees. He was pointing about at the wall and
+talking in Greek to a lady and gentleman. They were visitors, come to
+see these ruins of Mycenae.
+
+“Once, long, long ago,” he was saying, “a great city was inside these
+walls. Giants built the walls. See the huge stones. Only giants could
+lift them. It was a city of giants. See their great ovens.”
+
+He pointed down the hill at a doorway in the earth. “You cannot see well
+from here. I will take you down. We can look in. A great dome, built of
+stone, is buried in the earth. A passage leads into it, but it is filled
+with dirt. We can look down through the broken top. The room inside is
+bigger than my whole house. There giants used to bake their bread. Once
+a wicked Turk came here. He was afraid of nothing. He said, ‘The giants’
+treasure lies in this oven. I will have it.’ So he sent men down. But
+they found only broken pieces of carved marble--no gold.”
+
+While the guide talked, the gentleman was tramping about the walls. He
+peered into all the dark corners. He thrust a stick into every hole. He
+rubbed the stones with his hands. At last he turned to his guide.
+
+“You are right,” he said. “There was once a great city inside these
+walls. Houses were crowded together on this hill where we stand. Men and
+women walked the streets of a city that is buried under our feet, but
+they were not giants. They were beautiful women and handsome men.
+
+“It was a famous old city, this Mycenae. Poets sang songs about her. I
+have read those old songs. They tell of Agamemnon, its king, and his
+war against Troy. They call him the king of men. They tell of his
+gold-decked palace and his rich treasures and the thick walls of his
+city.
+
+“But Agamemnon died, and weak kings sat in his palace. The warriors of
+Mycenae grew few, and after hundreds of years, when the city was old and
+weak, her enemies conquered her. They broke her walls, they threw down
+her houses, they drove out her people. Mycenae became a mass of empty
+ruins. For two thousand years the dry winds of summer blew dust over her
+palace floors. The rains of winter and spring washed down mud from her
+acropolis into her streets and houses. Winged seeds flew into the cracks
+of her walls and into the corners of her ruined buildings. There they
+sprouted and grew, and at last flowers and grass covered the ruins.
+Now only these broken walls remain. You feed your sheep in the city of
+Agamemnon. Down there on the hillside farmers have planted grain above
+ancient palaces. But I will uncover this wonderful city. You shall see!
+You shall see how your ancestors lived.
+
+“Oh! for years I have longed to see this place. When I was a little boy
+in Germany my father told me the old stories of Troy, and he told me of
+how great cities were buried. My heart burned to see them. Then, one
+night, I heard a man recite some of the lines of Homer. I loved the
+beautiful Greek words. I made him say them over and over. I wept because
+I was not a Greek. I said to myself, ‘I will see Greece! I will study
+Greek. I will work hard. I will make a bankful of money. Then I will
+go to Greece. I will uncover Troy-city and see Priam’s palace. I
+will uncover Mycenae and see Agamemnon’s grave.’ I have come. I have
+uncovered Troy. Now I am here. I will come again and bring workmen with
+me. You shall see wonders.” He walked excitedly around and around the
+ruins. He told stories of the old city. He asked his wife to recite
+the old tales of Homer. She half sang the beautiful Greek words. Her
+husband’s eyes grew wet as he listened.
+
+This man’s name was Dr. Henry Schliemann. He kept his word. He went
+away but he came again in a few years. He hired men and horse-carts. He
+rented houses in the little village. Myceae was a busy place again after
+three thousand years. More than a hundred men were digging on the top
+of this hill. They wore the fezes and kilts of the modern Greek. Little
+two-wheeled horse-carts creaked about, loading and dumping.
+
+Some of the men were working about the wall near the stone lions.
+
+“This is the great gate of the city,” said Dr. Schliemann. “Here the
+king and his warriors used to march through, thousands of years ago. But
+it is filled up with dirt. We must clear it out. We must get down to the
+very stones they trod.”
+
+But it was slow work. The men found the earth full of great stone
+blocks. They had to dig around them carefully, so that Dr. Schliemann
+might see what they were.
+
+“How did so many great stones come here?” they said among themselves.
+
+Then Dr. Schliemann told them. He pointed to the wall above the gate.
+
+“Once, long, long ago,” he said, “the warriors of Mycenae stood up
+there. Down here stood an army--the men of Argos, their enemies. The men
+of Argos battered at the gate. They shot arrows at the men of Mycenae,
+and the men of Mycenae shot at the Argives, and they threw down great
+stones upon them. See, here is one of those broken stones, and here, and
+here. After a long time the people of Mycenae had no food left in their
+city. Their warriors fainted from hunger. Then the Argives beat down the
+gate. They rushed into the city and drove out the people. They did not
+want men ever again to live in Mycenae, so they took crowbars and tried
+to tear down the wall. A few stones they knocked off. See, here, and
+here, and here they are, where they fell off the wall. But these great
+stones are very heavy. This one must weigh a hundred twenty tons,--more
+than all the people of your village. So the Argives gave up the attempt,
+and there stand the walls yet. Then the rain washed down the dirt from
+the hill and covered these great stones, and now we are digging them out
+again.”
+
+The men worked at the gateway for many weeks. At last all the dirt and
+the blocks had been cleared away. The tall gateway stood open. A hole
+was in the stone door-casing at top and bottom. Schliemann put his hand
+into it.
+
+“See!” he cried. “Here turned the wooden hinge of the gate.”
+
+He pointed to another large hole on the side of the casing. “Here the
+gatekeeper thrust in the beam to hold the gate shut.”
+
+Just inside the gate he found the little room where the keeper had
+stayed. He found also two little sentry boxes high up on the wall. Here
+guards had stood and looked over the country, keeping watch against
+enemies. From the gate the wall bent around the edge of the hilltop,
+shutting it in. In two places had been towers for watchmen. Inside this
+great wall the king’s palace and a few houses had been safe. Outside,
+other houses had been built. But in time of war all the people had
+flocked into the fortress. The gate had been shut. The warriors had
+stood on the wall to defend their city.
+
+But while some of Dr. Schliemann’s men were digging at the gateway and
+the wall, others were working outside the city. They were making a great
+hole, a hundred and thirteen feet square. They put the dirt into baskets
+and carried it to the little carts to be hauled away. And always Dr.
+Schliemann and his wife worked with them. From morning until dusk every
+day they were there. It was August, and the sun was hot. The wind blew
+dust into their faces and made their eyes sore, and yet they were happy.
+Every day they found some little thing that excited them,--a terra cotta
+goblet, a broken piece of a bone lyre, a bronze ax, the ashes of an
+ancient fire.
+
+At first Dr. Schliemann and his wife had fingered over every spadeful
+of dirt. There might be something precious in it. “Dig carefully,
+carefully!” Dr. Schliemann had said to the workmen. “Nothing must be
+broken. Nothing must be lost. I must see everything. Perhaps a bit of a
+broken vase may tell a wonderful story.”
+
+But during this work of many weeks he had taught his workmen how to dig.
+Now each man looked over every spadeful of earth himself, as he dug it
+up. He took out every scrap of stone or wood or pottery or metal and
+gave it to Schliemann or his wife. So the excavators had only to study
+these things and to tell the men where to work. When a man struck some
+new thing with his spade, he called out. Then the excavators ran to
+that place and dug with their own hands. When anything was found, Dr.
+Schliemann sent it to the village. There it was kept in a house under
+guard. At night Dr. Schliemann drew plans of Mycenae. He read again old
+Greek books about the city. As he read he studied his plans. He wrote
+and wrote.
+
+“As soon as possible, I must tell the world about what we find,” he said
+to his wife. “People will love my book, because they love the stories of
+Homer.”
+
+There had been four months of hard work. A few precious things had
+been uncovered,--a few of bronze and clay, a few of gold, some carved
+gravestones. But were these the wonders Schliemann had promised? Was
+this to be all? They had dug down more than twenty feet. A few more
+days, and they would probably reach the solid rock. There could be
+nothing below that. November was rainy and disagreeable. The men had to
+work in the mud and wet. There was much disappointment on the hilltop.
+
+Then one day a spade grated on gravel. Once before that had happened,
+and they had found gold below. They called out to Dr. Schliemann. He and
+his wife came quickly. Fire leaped into Schliemann’s eyes.
+
+“Stop!” he said. “Now I will dig. Spades are too clumsy.”
+
+So he and his wife dropped upon their knees in the mud. They dug with
+their knives. Carefully, bit by bit, they lifted the dirt. All at once
+there was a glint of gold.
+
+“Do not touch it!” cried Schliemann, “we must see it all at once. What
+will it be?”
+
+So they dug on. The men stood about watching. Every now and then they
+shouted out, when some wonderful thing was uncovered, and Schliemann
+would stop work and cry,
+
+“Did not I tell you? Is it not worth the work?”
+
+At last they had lifted off all the earth and gravel. There was a great
+mass of golden things--golden hairpins, and bracelets, and great golden
+earrings like wreaths of yellow flowers, and necklaces with pictures
+of warriors embossed in the gold, and brooches in the shape of stags’
+heads. There were gold covers for buttons, and every one was molded into
+some beautiful design of crest or circle or flower or cuttle-fish.
+
+And among them lay the bones of three persons. Across the forehead of
+one was a diadem of gold, worked into designs of flowers. “See!” cried
+Schliemann, “these are queens. See their crowns, their scepters.”
+
+For near the hands lay golden scepters, with crystal balls.
+
+And there were golden boxes with covers. Perhaps long ago, one of these
+queens had kept her jewels in them. There was a golden drinking cup with
+swimming fish on its sides. There were vases of bronze and silver and
+gold. There was a pile of gold and amber beads, lying where they had
+fallen when the string had rotted away from the queenly neck. And
+scattered all over the bodies and under them were thin flakes of gold in
+the shapes of flowers, butterflies, grasshoppers, swans, eagles, leaves.
+It seemed as though a golden tree had shed its leaves into the grave.
+
+“Think! Think! Think!” cried Schliemann. “These delicate lovely things
+have lain buried here for three thousand years. You have pastured your
+sheep above them. Once queens wore them and walked the streets we are
+uncovering.”
+
+The news of the find spread like wildfire over the country. Thousands of
+people came to visit the buried city. It was the most wonderful treasure
+that had ever been found. The king of Athens sent soldiers to guard the
+place. They camped on the acropolis. Their fires blazed there at night.
+Schliemann telegraphed to the king:
+
+“With great joy I announce to your majesty that I have discovered
+the tombs which old stories say are the graves of Agamemnon and his
+followers. I have found in them great treasures in the shape of ancient
+things in pure gold. These treasures, alone, are enough to fill a great
+museum. It will be the most wonderful collection in the world. During
+the centuries to come it will draw visitors from all over the earth to
+Greece. I am working for the joy of the work, not for money. So I give
+this treasure, with much happiness, to Greece. May it be the corner
+stone of great good fortune for her.”
+
+The work went on, and soon they found another grave, even more
+wonderful. Here lay five people--two of them women, three of them
+warriors. Golden masks covered the faces of the men. Two wore golden
+breastplates. The gold clasp of the greave was still around one knee.
+Near one man lay a golden crown and a sceptre, and a sword belt of gold.
+There was a heap of stone arrowheads, and a pile of twenty bronze swords
+and daggers. One had a picture of a lion hunt inlaid in gold. The wooden
+handles of the swords and daggers were rotted away, but the gold nails
+that had fastened them lay there, and the gold dust that had gilded
+them. Near the warriors’ hands were drinking cups of heavy gold. There
+were seal rings with carved stones. There was the silver mask of an
+ox head with golden horns, and the golden mask of a lion’s head. And
+scattered over everything were buttons, and ribbons, and leaves, and
+flowers of gold.
+
+Schliemann gazed at the swords with burning eyes.
+
+“The heroes of Troy have used these swords,” he said to his wife,
+“Perhaps Achilles himself has handled them.” He looked long at the
+golden masks of kingly faces.
+
+“I believe that one of these masks covered the face of Agamemnon. I
+believe I am kneeling at the side of the king of men,” he said in a
+hushed voice.
+
+Why were all these things there? Thousands of years before, when their
+king had died, the people had grieved.
+
+“He is going to the land of the dead,” they had thought. “It is a dull
+place. We will send gifts with him to cheer his heart. He must have
+lions to hunt and swords to kill them. He must have cattle to eat. He
+must have his golden cup for wine.”
+
+So they had put these things into the grave, thinking that the king
+could take them with him. They even had put in food, for Schliemann
+found oyster shells buried there. And they had thought that a king, even
+in the land of the dead, must have servants to work for him. So they had
+sacrificed slaves, and had sent them with their lord. Schliemann found
+their bones above the grave. And besides the silver mask of the ox head
+they had sent real cattle. After the king had been laid in his grave,
+they had killed oxen before the altar. Part they had burned in the
+sacred fire for the dead king, and part the people had eaten for the
+funeral feast. These bones and ashes, too, Schliemann found. For a long,
+long time the people had not forgotten their dead chiefs. Every year
+they had sacrificed oxen to them. They had set up gravestones for them,
+and after a while they had heaped great mounds over their graves.
+
+That was a wonderful old world at Mycenae. The king’s palace sat on a
+hill. It was not one building, but many--a great hall where the warriors
+ate, the women’s large room where they worked, two houses of many
+bedrooms, treasure vaults, a bath, storehouses. Narrow passages led from
+room to room. Flat roofs of thatch and clay covered all. And there were
+open courts with porches about the sides. The floors of the court were
+of tinted concrete. Sometimes they were inlaid with colored stones. The
+walls of the great hall had a painted frieze running about them. And
+around the whole palace went a thick stone wall.
+
+One such old palace has been uncovered at Tiryns near Mycenae. To-day
+a visitor can walk there through the house of an ancient king. The
+watchman is not there, so the stranger goes through the strong old
+gateway. He stands in the courtyard, where the young men used to play
+games. He steps on the very floor they trod. He sees the stone bases of
+columns about him. The wooden pillars have rotted away, but he imagines
+them holding a porch roof, and he sees the men resting in the shade. He
+walks into the great room where the warriors feasted. He sees the hearth
+in the middle and imagines the fire blazing there. He looks into the
+bathroom with its sloping stone floor and its holes to drain off the
+water. He imagines Greek maidens coming to the door with vases of water
+on their heads. He walks through the long, winding passages and into
+room after room. “The children of those old days must have had trouble
+finding their way about in this big palace,” he thinks.
+
+Such was the palace of the king. Below it lay many poorer houses, inside
+the walls and out. We can imagine men and women walking about this city.
+We raise the warriors from their graves. They carry their golden cups in
+their hands. Their rings glisten on their fingers, and their bracelets
+on their arms. Perhaps, instead of the golden armor, they wear
+breastplates of bronze of the same shape, but these same swords hang at
+their sides. We look at their golden masks and see their straight noses
+and their short beards. We study the carving on their gravestones, and
+we see their two-wheeled chariots and their prancing horses. We look at
+the carved gems of their seal rings and see them fighting or killing
+lions. We look at their embossed drinking cups, and we see them catching
+the wild bulls in nets. We gaze at the great walls of Mycenae, and
+wonder what machines they had for lifting such heavy stones. We look at
+a certain silver vase, and see warriors fighting before this very wall.
+We see all the beautiful work in gold and silver and gems and ivory, and
+we think, “Those men of old Mycenae were artists.”
+
+
+
+
+
+PICTURES OF MYCENAE
+
+
+THE CIRCLE OF ROYAL TOMBS.
+
+Digging within this circle, Dr. Schliemann found the famous treasure
+of golden gifts to the dead, which he gave to Greece. In the Museum at
+Athens you can see these wonderful things. (From a photograph in the
+Metropolitan Museum.)
+
+
+DR. AND MRS. SCHLIEMANN AT WORK.
+
+This picture is taken from Dr. Schliemann’s own book on his work.
+
+
+THE GATE OF LIONS.
+
+The stone over the gateway is immensely strong. But the wall builders
+were afraid to pile too great a weight upon it. So they left a
+triangular space above it. You can see how they cut the big stones with
+slanting ends to do this. This triangle they filled with a thinner
+stone carved with two lions. The lions’ heads are gone. They were made
+separately, perhaps of bronze, and stood away from the stone looking out
+at people approaching the gate.
+
+
+INSIDE THE TREASURY OF ATREUS.
+
+No wonder the untaught modern Greeks thought that this was a giants’
+oven, where the giants baked their bread. But learned men have shown
+that it was connected with a tomb, and that in this room the men
+of Mycenae worshipped their dead. It was very wonderfully made and
+beautifully ornamented. The big stone over the doorway was nearly thirty
+feet long, and weighs a hundred and twenty tons. Men came to this
+beehive tomb in the old days of Mycenae, down a long passage with a high
+stone wall on either side. The doorway was decorated with many-colored
+marbles and beautiful bronze plates. The inside was ornamented, too, and
+there was an altar in there.
+
+
+THE INTERIOR OF THE PALACE.
+
+From these ruins and relics, we know much about the art of the
+Mycenaeans, something about their government, their trade, their
+religion, their home life, their amusements, and their ways of fighting,
+though they lived three thousand years ago. If a great modern city
+should be buried, and men should dig it up three thousand years later,
+what do you think they will say about us?
+
+
+GOLD MASK.
+
+This mask was still on the face of the dead king. The artist tried to
+make the mask look just as the great king himself had looked, but this
+was very hard to do.
+
+
+A COW’S HEAD OF SILVER.
+
+The king’s people put into his grave this silver mask of an ox head with
+golden horns. It was a symbol of the cattle sacrificed for the dead.
+There is a gold rosette between the eyes. The mouth, muzzle, eyes and
+ears are gilded. In Homer’s Iliad, which is the story of the Trojan war,
+Diomede says, “To thee will I sacrifice a yearling heifer, broad at
+brow, unbroken, that never yet hath man led beneath the yoke. Her will I
+sacrifice to thee, and gild her horns with gold.”
+
+
+THE WARRIOR VASE.
+
+This vase was made of clay and baked. Then the artist painted figures on
+it with colored earth. This was so long ago that men had not learned to
+draw very well, but we like the vase because the potter made it such a
+beautiful shape, and because we learn from it how the warriors of early
+Mycenae dressed. Under their armor they wore short chitons with fringe
+at the bottom, and long sleeves, and they carried strangely shaped
+shields and short spears or long lances. Do you think those are
+knapsacks tied to the lances?
+
+
+BRONZE HELMETS.
+
+These may have been worn by King Agamemnon, or by the Trojan warriors.
+They are now in the Metropolitan Museum in New York.
+
+
+GEM FROM MYCENAE.
+
+Early men made many pictures much like this--a pillar guarded by an
+animal on each side.
+
+
+BRONZE DAGGERS.
+
+It would take a very skilfull man to-day, a man who was both goldsmith
+and artist, to make such daggers as men found at Mycenae. First the
+blade was made. Then the artist took a separate sheet of bronze for his
+design. This sheet he enamelled, and on it he inlaid his design. On one
+of these daggers we see five hunters fighting three lions. Two of the
+lions are running away. One lion is pouncing upon a hunter, but his
+friends are coming to help him. If you could turn this dagger over, you
+would see a lion chasing five gazelles. The artist used pure gold for
+the bodies of the hunters and the lions; he used electron, an alloy of
+gold and silver, for the hunters’ shields and their trousers; and he
+made the men’s hair, the lions’ manes, and the rims of the shields, of
+some black substance. When the picture was finished on the plate, he
+set the plate into the blade, and riveted on the handle. On the smaller
+dagger we see three lions running.
+
+
+CARVED IVORY HEAD.
+
+It shows the kind of helmet used in Mycenae. Do you think the button at
+the top may have had a socket for a horse hair plume?
+
+
+BRONZE BROOCHES.
+
+These brooches were like modern safety pins, and were used to fasten the
+chlamys at the shoulder. The chlamys was a heavy woolen shawl, red or
+purple.
+
+
+ONE OF THE CUPS FOUND AT VAPHIO.
+
+Some people say that these cups are the most wonderful things that
+have been found, made by Mycenaean artists. Some people say that no
+goldsmiths in the world since then, unless perhaps in Italy in the
+fifteenth century, have done such lovely work. The goldsmith took a
+plate of gold and hammered his design into it from the wrong side. Then
+he riveted the two ends together where the handle was to go, and lined
+the cup with a smooth gold plate. One cup shows some hunters trying to
+catch wild bulls with a net. One great bull is caught in the net. One
+is leaping clear over it. And a third bull is tossing a hunter on his
+horns. On the other cup the artist shows some bulls quietly grazing in
+the forest, while another one is being led away to sacrifice.
+
+The Vaphian cups are now in the National museum in Athens. They were
+found in a “bee-hive” tomb at Vaphio, an ancient site in Greece, not far
+from Sparta. It is thought that they were not made there, but in Crete.
+
+
+PLATES.
+
+At Mycenae were found seven hundred and one large round plates of gold,
+decorated with cuttlefish, flowers, butterflies, and other designs.
+
+
+GOLD ORNAMENT. (Lower right hand corner.)
+
+
+MYCENAE IN THE DISTANCE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Buried Cities: Pompeii, Olympia,
+Mycenae, by Jennie Hall
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