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diff --git a/9628-0.txt b/9628-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47cea5b --- /dev/null +++ b/9628-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3593 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BURIED CITIES, ALL *** + +***** This file should be named 9628-0.txt or 9628-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/6/2/9628/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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