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diff --git a/9628-h/9628-h.htm b/9628-h/9628-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85c10a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/9628-h/9628-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4608 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + BURIED CITIES + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 20%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 25%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + pre { font-family: Times; font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <h1> + BURIED CITIES + </h1> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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: October 21, 2012 + +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 + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1> +BURIED CITIES +</h1> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (28K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +BURIED CITIES +</h1> +<h3> +BY +</h3> +<h2> +JENNIE HALL +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +FOREWORD: TO BOYS AND GIRLS +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> +<h3> +<a href="#linkpompeii">POMPEII</a> +</h3> +<p> +1. <a href="#linkslave">The Greek Slave and the Little Roman Boy</a><br /><br /> +2. <a href="#linkvesuvius">Vesuvius</a><br /><br /> 3. <a +href="#linkpompeii_today">Pompeii Today</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +<a href="#linkPICTURES_OF_POMPEII"><i>Pictures of Pompeii:</i></a> +</h3> +<p> +<a href="#link01">A Roman Boy</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link02">The City of +Naples</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link03">Vesuvius in Eruption</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link04">Pompeii from an Airplane</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link05">Nola +Street; the Stabian Gate</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link07">In the Street of +Tombs</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link08">The Amphitheater</a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link09">The Baths</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link10">Temple of Apollo</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link11">School of the Gladiators</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link12">The +Smaller Theater</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link13">A Sacrifice</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link63d">Scene in the Forum</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link63b">Hairpins</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link63c">Bath Appliances</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link14">Peristyle +of the House of the Vettii</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link15">Lady Playing a +Harp</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link16">Kitchen of the House of the Vettii</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link67a">Kitchen Utensils</a> <a href="#link17">The House of the +Tragic Poet</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link19">Mosaic of Watch Dog</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link20">The House of Diomede</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link21"> A +Bakery</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link22">Section of a Mill</a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link23">Lucius Cæcilius Jueundus</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link24">Bronze +Candleholder</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link25">The Dancing Faun</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link26">Hermes in Repose</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link27">The +Arch of Nero</a><br /><br /> <br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /> +</p> +<h3> +<a href="#linkolympia">OLYMPIA</a> +</h3> +<p> +1. <a href="#linkwinners">Two Winners of Crowns</a><br /><br /> 2. <a +href="#linklost">How a City Was Lost</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +<a href="#linkPICTURES_OF_OLYMPIA"><i>Pictures of Olympia</i></a> +</h3> +<p> +<a href="#link28">Entrance to Stadion</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link29">Gymnasium</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link118a">Boys in Gymnasium</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link30">Temple +of Zeus</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link31">The Labors of Herakles</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link37">The Statue of Victory</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link38">The +Hermes of Praxiteles</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link39">The Temple of Hera</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link40">Head of an Athlete</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link41">A +Greek Horseman</a><br /><br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h3> +<a href="#linkmycenae">MYCENÆ</a> +</h3> +<p> +1. <a href="#linkfound">How a Lost City Was Found</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +<a href="#linkPICTURES_OF_MYCENAE"><i>Pictures of Mycenæ</i></a> +</h3> +<p> +<a href="#link42">The Circle of Royal Tombs</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link43">Doctor +and Mrs. Schliemann at Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link44">The Gate of +Lions</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link45">Inside the Treasury of Atreus</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link46">The Interior of the Palace</a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link47">Gold Mask</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link48">Cow’s Head</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#link49">The Warrior Vase</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link51">Bronze +Helmets</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link52">Gem</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link53">Bronze +Daggers</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link54">Carved Ivory Head</a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link55">Bronze Brooches</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link56">A Cup from +Vaphio</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link59">Gold Plates</a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link60">Gold Ornament</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link62">Mycenæ in the +Distance</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linkpompeii" id="linkpompeii"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +POMPEII +</h1> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="lamp.jpg (17K)" src="images/lamp.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> Line Art of Bronze Lamp. Caption: <i>Bronze Lamps</i>.<br /> The bowl +held olive oil. A wick came out at the nozzle.<br /> These lamps gave a dim +and smoky light.<br /> <a name="linkslave" id="linkslave"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +THE GREEK SLAVE AND THE LITTLE ROMAN BOY +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“O god of beauty, god of Hellas, god of freedom, help me!” he half +whispered while his brush worked. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“Let this boy work at the mill no longer. He shall paint the walls of my +private room.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“The last figure shall be the most beautiful of all,” he said to himself. +“It is my own god, Apollo.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Meantime a great noise arose in the house. There were cries of fear. There +was running of feet. +</p> +<p> +“A great cloud!” “Earthquake!” “Fire and hail!” “Smoke from hell!” “The +end of the world!” “Run! Run!” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Little master!” called Ariston. “What is it? What has happened to us?” + “Oh, take me!” cried the little boy. +</p> +<p> +“Where are the others?” asked Ariston. +</p> +<p> +“They ran away,” answered Caius. “They were afraid, Look! O-o-h!” + </p> +<p> +He pointed to the sky and screamed with terror. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“It is a volcano,” cried Ariston. +</p> +<p> +He had seen one spouting fire as he had voyaged on the pirate ship. +</p> +<p> +“I want my father,” wailed the little boy. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Ariston pulled the couch into one of the rooms. Here the roof kept off the +hail of stones. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Will it never stop?” thought Ariston. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +“Come, Caius, we must get away,” he cried. “We shall be buried here.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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?” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“O Lord Poseidon, shaker of the earth, save me! I am a Greek!” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“It is no better,” he sobbed to himself. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Ariston remembered when he himself had been dragged up here two years ago +from the pirate ship. +</p> +<p> +“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!” + </p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“How strange!” thought Ariston. “They are not running away. They must be +brave. We are all cowards.” + </p> +<p> +“Wait for me here!” cried a lordly voice to the rowers. +</p> +<p> +When he heard that voice Ariston struggled to his feet and called. +</p> +<p> +“Marcus Tetreius! Master!” + </p> +<p> +He saw the man turn and run toward him. Then the boy toppled over and lay +face down in the ashes. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Who can steer without sun or stars?” thought the boy. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“He will get us out,” thought the slave. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Thanks be to the gods!” cried Tetreius. “We are out of that boiling pot.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“It is only weariness,” a kind voice was saying. “He needs food and rest +more than medicine.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“My picture is finished, master,” he cried, still half asleep. +</p> +<p> +“And so is your slavery,” said Tetreius, and his eyes shone. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +Three Roman gentlemen stepped up. They looked kindly upon Ariston. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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?” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkvesuvius" id="linkvesuvius"></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="table.jpg (24K)" src="images/table.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <i>A Marble Table</i>: The lions’ heads were painted yellow.<br /> +You can see a table much like this in the garden pictured later. <br /> +</p> +<h2> +VESUVIUS +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“After all, she is a good old mountain. There will never be another +eruption while we are alive.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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, +</p> +<p> +“‘We must cross the stream of lava. On the other side the wind will not +trouble us.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Cross that melted rock?’ my friends cried out. ‘We should sink into it +and be burned alive.’ +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“‘I could stir it with a stick,’ said one of my friends. +</p> +<p> +“‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘See how slowly it flows. It must be very thick and +heavy.’ +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +Another man writes of a visit in 1868, a quieter year. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linkpompeii_today" id="linkpompeii_today"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="lampholder.jpg (22K)" src="images/lampholder.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <i>Bronze lampholder</i>: Five lamps hung from the branches<br /> of +this bronze tree. It was twenty inches high. <br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +POMPEII TO-DAY +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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! +</p> +<p> +“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?” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“This must be where Pompeii lies buried,” the wise men said. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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!” + </p> +<p> +“Rings, rings, beautiful madam, for your beautiful fingers!” + </p> +<p> +“Oil for your body, sir, after the bath!” + </p> +<p> +“A taste of sweets, madam, before you enter! Honey cakes of my own +making!” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t forget to buy my dressing for your hair before you go in! You’ll +get nothing like it in there.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Let us see what it is,” the excavator has said, “Perhaps it will be +something interesting.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linkPICTURES_OF_POMPEII" id="linkPICTURES_OF_POMPEII"></a> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +PICTURES OF POMPEII +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="link01" id="link01"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +A ROMAN BOY. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="01.jpg (109K)" src="images/01.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link02" id="link02"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE CITY OF NAPLES, WITH MOUNT VESUVIUS ACROSS THE BAY. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="02.jpg (148K)" src="images/02.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link03" id="link03"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +VESUVIUS IN ERUPTION, FROM AN AIRPLANE. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="03.jpg (94K)" src="images/03.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link04" id="link04"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +POMPEII FROM AN AIRPLANE. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="04.jpg (187K)" src="images/04.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link05" id="link05"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE STABIAN GATE. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="05.jpg (62K)" src="images/05.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link07" id="link07"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +IN THE STREET OF TOMBS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="07.jpg (111K)" src="images/07.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link08" id="link08"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE AMPHITHEATER. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="08.jpg (65K)" src="images/08.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link09" id="link09"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +RUINS OF THE GREAT STABIAN BATHS. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="09.jpg (68K)" src="images/09.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link10" id="link10"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE RUINED TEMPLE OF APOLLO. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="10.jpg (83K)" src="images/10.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link11" id="link11"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE SCHOOL OF THE GLADIATORS. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="11.jpg (79K)" src="images/11.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link12" id="link12"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE SMALLER THEATER. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="12.jpg (159K)" src="images/12.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link13" id="link13"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +A SACRIFICE. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="13.jpg (157K)" src="images/13.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link63d" id="link63d"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +A SCENE IN THE FORUM. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="63d.jpg (53K)" src="images/63d.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link63b" id="link63b"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +IVORY HAIRPINS. +</h3> +<p> +Underneath are two ivory toilet boxes. One was probably for perfumed oil. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="63b.jpg (16K)" src="images/63b.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link63c" id="link63c"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +APPLIANCES FOR THE BATH. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="63c.jpg (18K)" src="images/63c.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link14" id="link14"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +PERISTYLE OF THE HOUSE OF THE VETTII. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +A garden like this, not generally so large, was laid out <i>inside</i> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="14.jpg (117K)" src="images/14.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link15" id="link15"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +LADY PLAYING A HARP. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="15.jpg (121K)" src="images/15.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link16" id="link16"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +KITCHEN OF THE HOUSE OF THE VETTII. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="16.jpg (96K)" src="images/16.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link67a" id="link67a"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +KITCHEN UTENSILS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="67a.jpg (120K)" src="images/67a.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="linkcentaur" id="linkcentaur"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +CENTAUR CUP. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="centaur.jpg (25K)" src="images/centaur.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link17" id="link17"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE HOUSE OF THE TRAGIC POET (restored). +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="17.jpg (76K)" src="images/17.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link18" id="link18"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE HOUSE OF THE TRAGIC POET (as it looks to-day). +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="18.jpg (73K)" src="images/18.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link19" id="link19"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +MOSAIC OF WATCH DOG. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="19.jpg (118K)" src="images/19.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link20" id="link20"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE HOUSE OF DIOMEDE. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="20.jpg (159K)" src="images/20.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link21" id="link21"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +RUINS OF A BAKERY, WITH MILLSTONES. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="21.jpg (75K)" src="images/21.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link22" id="link22"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +SECTION OF A MILL. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="22.jpg (103K)" src="images/22.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link23" id="link23"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +PORTRAIT OF LUCIUS CÆCILIUS JUCUNDUS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="23.jpg (44K)" src="images/23.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link24" id="link24"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +BRONZE CANDLEHOLDER. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="24.jpg (74K)" src="images/24.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link25" id="link25"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE DANCING FAUN. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="25.jpg (58K)" src="images/25.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link26" id="link26"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +HERMES IN REPOSE. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="26.jpg (108K)" src="images/26.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link27" id="link27"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE ARCH OF NERO. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="27.jpg (109K)" src="images/27.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkolympia" id="linkolympia"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +OLYMPIA +</h1> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="vasestore.jpg (60K)" src="images/vasestore.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<a name="linkwinners" id="linkwinners"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +TWO WINNERS OF CROWNS +</h3> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“What a strange-looking man, Glaucon!” said the boy. “He has a dark skin.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +But already the boy had forgotten the Egyptian. +</p> +<p> +“See the chariot!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +But the boy was not listening. +</p> +<p> +“Jugglers! Jugglers!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Stop, Glaucon!” cried Charmides, “I must see him. He will kill himself.” + </p> +<p> +“No, my little master,” replied the slave. “You shall see him again at +Olympia. See your father. He would be vexed if we waited.” + </p> +<p> +And there was the master ahead, pushing forward rapidly, looking neither +to the right hand nor the left. The boy sighed. +</p> +<p> +“He is hurrying to see Creon. He forgets me!” he thought. +</p> +<p> +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!” + </p> +<p> +He pointed ahead. There shone the tip of the roof and its gold ornament. +Hovering above was a marble statue with spread wings. +</p> +<p> +“And there is Victory!” whispered Charmides. “She is waiting for Creon. +She will never wait for me,” and he sighed. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“There are the athletes!” he thought. “Creon is with them.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Run on quickly,” he said. “Save a camping place for us there on Mount +Kronion, under the trees.” + </p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +They rode down the slope toward Olympia. As they passed among the tents +they saw friends and exchanged kind greetings. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Menon!” called one. “There is good news of Creon. Every one expects +great things of him.” + </p> +<p> +“I have kept room for your camp next my tent, Menon,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“Here are sights for you, Charmides,” said a kind old man. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“They are the judges,” whispered Glaucon. “They train the boys.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +Tears sprang into his father’s eyes. “Now blessed be the gods!” he cried, +“and most blessed Hermes, the god of the gymnasium!” + </p> +<p> +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!” + </p> +<p> +Menon was gay now. His worries were over. His camp was pitched in a +pleasant place. His son was well and sure of victory. +</p> +<p> +“Come, little son,” he called to Charmides. “You must be as hungry as a +wolf. But first our thanks to the gods.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“O gracious Hermes!” he cried aloud, “fulfill thy omen! And to Zeus, the +father, and to all the immortals be thanks.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“Well, little wolf, you surely are gulping! Are you so starved?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said Charmides with full mouth. “I’m in a hurry. I want to see +things.” + </p> +<p> +His father laughed and leaped to his feet. +</p> +<p> +“Just like me, lad. Come on!” + </p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +He stopped on the hillside and looked down into the sacred place. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +“I know, father,” whispered the boy with shining eyes. “I have kissed your +olive wreath, where it hangs above our altar at home.” + </p> +<p> +The father put his hand lovingly on the boy’s yellow head. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish there were crowns for lame boys to win,” said Charmides. “I would +win one!” + </p> +<p> +He said that fiercely and clenched his fist. His father looked kindly into +his eyes and spoke solemnly. +</p> +<p> +“I think you would, my son. Perhaps there are such crowns.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Honey cakes! Almond cakes! Fig cakes!” sang the man. “Come buy!” + </p> +<p> +There they lay—stars and fish and ships and temples. Charmides +picked up one in the shape of a lyre. +</p> +<p> +“I will take this one,” he said, and solemnly ate it. +</p> +<p> +“Why are you so solemn, son?” laughed Menon. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +Then he turned to talk with a friend, who had come up, and Glaucon +followed his little master. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +At last it grew dark, and torches began to blaze in front of the booths. +</p> +<p> +“Shall we go home, Charmides?” said Glaucon. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +“It is beautiful,” said Charmides and turned away, holding it tenderly in +his hand. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Glaucon,” he said, “I must see that statue of Hermes.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +“Is it so wonderful?” asked Charmides. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +But Charmides was looking at the sacred place and its soft shining statues +in the sky. +</p> +<p> +“Let us walk around the wall,” he said. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +When the swan spreadeth out his wings to alight<br /> On the whirling pools +of the foaming stream,<br /> He sendeth to thee, Apollo, a note.<br /> When +the sweet-voiced minstrel lifteth his lyre<br /> And stretcheth his hand on +the singing string,<br /> He sendeth to thee, Apollo, a prayer.<br /> Even +so do I now, a worshiping bard,<br /> With my heart lifted up to begin my +lay,<br /> Cry aloud to Apollo, the lord of song. +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +When the song was ended, Glaucon said, “Come, little master, you have +fallen asleep. Let us go home.” + </p> +<p> +And Charmides rose and went, still clutching his image of Hermes in his +hand and still holding the song fast in his heart. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“It is not so beautiful as the Parthenon,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“Zeus bowed his head. The divine hair streamed back from the kindly brows, +and great Olympos quaked.” + </p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +Here were written names, and among them, “Creon, son of the Olympic winner +Menon.” Charmides’ eyes glowed with pride. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Charmides heard men all about him say: +</p> +<p> +“A beautiful run!” + </p> +<p> +“How easily he steps!” + </p> +<p> +“We shall see him do something in the last heat.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is he?” + </p> +<p> +And when the herald announced the name of the winner, the benches buzzed +with, +</p> +<p> +“Creon, Creon, son of Menon the Athenian.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“Hermes, be his aid! Great Zeus look upon him! Herakles give him wind!” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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, +</p> +<p> +“O blessed Hermes, Creon will not forget thy help.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“I must go and make ready. I am entered for the pentathlon, also.” + </p> +<p> +Menon cried out in wonder. +</p> +<p> +“I kept that news for a surprise,” laughed Creon. “Good-by, little one,” + he said to Charmides, and pushed through the crowd. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +It was now near noon. The sun shone down scorchingly. A wind whirled dust +up from the race course into people’s faces. +</p> +<p> +“My throat needs wetting,” cried a man. +</p> +<p> +He pulled off a little vase of wine that hung from his girdle and passed +it to Menon, saying: +</p> +<p> +“I should be proud if the father of the victor would drink from my +bottle.” + </p> +<p> +And Menon took it, smiling proudly. Then he himself opened a little cloth +bag and drew out figs and nuts. +</p> +<p> +“Here is something to munch, lad,” he said to Charmides. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“This is the first time I have sat down since sunrise,” he laughed. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Creon! Creon!” shouted the crowd: “The victor! Creon again!” + </p> +<p> +He swung and swayed and then sailed through the air. +</p> +<p> +“By Herakles!” shouted a man near Charmides. “He alights like a sea-gull.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Look out for his arms!” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t let him grapple you!” + </p> +<p> +“Feint, feint!” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“He is an eel,” cried one man. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Creon ducked under Timon’s arms, caught him by his legs and +tripped him. The two boys were even. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Menon caught up Charmides and threw him to his shoulder laughing and +stamping his feet. +</p> +<p> +“Do you see, lad?” he cried. “He has won two games. Only the race is left, +and we know how he can run.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“I could die happy now,” he said. “I have done enough for Athens in giving +her such a glorious son.” + </p> +<p> +As the three walked back to camp, Menon said: +</p> +<p> +“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!” + </p> +<p> +Then Charmides blushingly whispered, +</p> +<p> +“May I sing you something, father? Apollo helped me to make it.” + </p> +<p> +His father smiled down in surprise. “So that is why you have been lying so +quiet under the trees these moonlit nights!” he said. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +When Creon, son of Menon, bore off the Olympic olive,<br /> Mount Kronion +shook with shouting of Hellas’ hosts assembled.<br /> They praised his +manly beauty, his grace and strength of body.<br /> They praised his eyes’ +alertness, the smoothness of his muscles.<br /> They blessed his happy +father and wished themselves his brothers.<br /> Sweet rang the glorious +praises in ears of Creon’s lovers.<br /> But I, when upward gazing, beheld +a sight more wondrous.<br /> The gates of high Olympos were open wide and +clanging,<br /> Deserted ev’ry palace, the golden city empty.<br /> And all +the gods were gathered above Olympia’s race-course,<br /> They smiled upon +my Creon and gifts upon him showered.<br /> From golden Aphrodite dropped +half a hundred graces.<br /> Athene made him skillful. Boon Hermes gave him +litheness.<br /> Fierce Ares added courage, Queen Hera happy marriage.<br /> +Diana’s blessed fingers into his soul shed quiet.<br /> Lord Bacchus gave +him friendship and graces of the banquet,<br /> Poseidon luck in travel, +and Zeus decreed him victor.<br /> Apollo, smiling, watched him and saw his +thousand blessings.<br /> “Enough,” he said, “for Creon. I’ll bless the +empty-handed."<br /> He turned to where I trembled, and stepping downward +crowned me.<br /> “To thee my gift,” he whispered, “to sing thy brother’s +glory.” + </p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Well done, little poet!” cried Menon. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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: <i>A Coin of Alexander the Great</i>. It shows Zeus +sitting on his throne.] +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linklost" id="linklost"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +HOW A CITY WAS LOST +</h2> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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, +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +“To-day I saw a long, low place in the ground where I think must have been +the stadion in ancient days.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“We will uncover the sacred enclosure again. Men shall see again the +ancient temples and altars, the stadion, the statues.” + </p> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“It is the Hermes of Praxiteles,” the excavators whispered among +themselves. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Surely we shall find nothing else so perfect,” they said. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linkPICTURES_OF_OLYMPIA" id="linkPICTURES_OF_OLYMPIA"></a> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +PICTURES OF OLYMPIA +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="link28" id="link28"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +ENTRANCE TO STADION. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="28.jpg (142K)" src="images/28.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link29" id="link29"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +GYMNASIUM. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="29.jpg (104K)" src="images/29.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link118a" id="link118a"></a> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +BOYS IN GYMNASIUM. +</h3> +<p> +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.” <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="118a.jpg (69K)" src="images/118a.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link30" id="link30"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE TEMPLE OF ZEUS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<blockquote> +<p> +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. +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="30.jpg (92K)" src="images/30.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link31" id="link31"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE LABORS OF HERAKLES. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="31a.jpg (68K)" src="images/31a.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +[Herakles and the Nemean lion.—<i>Metropolitan Museum</i>] +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="31b.jpg (87K)" src="images/31b.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +[Herakles and the hydra.—<i>Metropolitan Museum</i>] <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="32.jpg (160K)" src="images/32.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="33.jpg (124K)" src="images/33.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="34.jpg (139K)" src="images/34.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="35.jpg (157K)" src="images/35.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="36.jpg (167K)" src="images/36.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link37" id="link37"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE STATUE OF VICTORY. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="37.jpg (140K)" src="images/37.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link39" id="link39"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE TEMPLE OF HERA. +</h3> +<p> +This shows the ruins of the temple where Charmides saw the statue of +Hermes, perhaps the most beautiful statue in the world. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="39.jpg (119K)" src="images/39.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="link38" id="link38"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="38.jpg (84K)" src="images/38.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link40" id="link40"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +HEAD OF AN ATHLETE. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="40.jpg (54K)" src="images/40.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link41" id="link41"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +A GREEK HORSEMAN. +</h3> +<p> +The artist had great skill who could chisel out of marble such a strong, +bold rider, and such a spirited horse. +</p> +<blockquote> +<p> +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. +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="41.jpg (137K)" src="images/41.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="plaque.jpg (39K)" src="images/plaque.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <a name="linkmycenae" id="linkmycenae"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +MYCENÆ +</h1> +<p> +<a name="linkfound" id="linkfound"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +HOW A LOST CITY WAS FOUND +</h3> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Some of the men were working about the wall near the stone lions. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“How did so many great stones come here?” they said among themselves. +</p> +<p> +Then Dr. Schliemann told them. He pointed to the wall above the gate. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“See!” he cried. “Here turned the wooden hinge of the gate.” + </p> +<p> +He pointed to another large hole on the side of the casing. “Here the +gatekeeper thrust in the beam to hold the gate shut.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” he said. “Now I will dig. Spades are too clumsy.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“Do not touch it!” cried Schliemann, “we must see it all at once. What +will it be?” + </p> +<p> +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, +</p> +<p> +“Did not I tell you? Is it not worth the work?” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +For near the hands lay golden scepters, with crystal balls. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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: +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +Schliemann gazed at the swords with burning eyes. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +“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. +</p> +<p> +Why were all these things there? Thousands of years before, when their +king had died, the people had grieved. +</p> +<p> +“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.” + </p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="linkPICTURES_OF_MYCENAE" + id="linkPICTURES_OF_MYCENAE"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +PICTURES OF MYCENAE +</h2> +<p> +<a name="link42" id="link42"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE CIRCLE OF ROYAL TOMBS. +</h3> +<p> +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.) +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="42.jpg (96K)" src="images/42.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link43" id="link43"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +DR. AND MRS. SCHLIEMANN AT WORK. +</h3> +<p> +This picture is taken from Dr. Schliemann’s own book on his work. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="43.jpg (264K)" src="images/43.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link44" id="link44"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE GATE OF LIONS. +</h3> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="44.jpg (93K)" src="images/44.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link45" id="link45"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +INSIDE THE TREASURY OF ATREUS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="45.jpg (91K)" src="images/45.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link46" id="link46"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE INTERIOR OF THE PALACE. +</h3> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="46.jpg (103K)" src="images/46.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link47" id="link47"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +GOLD MASK. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="47.jpg (98K)" src="images/47.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link48" id="link48"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +A COW’S HEAD OF SILVER. +</h3> +<p> +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.” + </p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="48.jpg (38K)" src="images/48.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link49" id="link49"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE WARRIOR VASE. +</h3> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="49.jpg (69K)" src="images/49.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="50.jpg (97K)" src="images/50.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link51" id="link51"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +BRONZE HELMETS. +</h3> +<p> +These may have been worn by King Agamemnon, or by the Trojan warriors. +They are now in the Metropolitan Museum in New York. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="51.jpg (88K)" src="images/51.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link52" id="link52"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +GEM FROM MYCENAE. +</h3> +<p> +Early men made many pictures much like this—a pillar guarded by an +animal on each side. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="52.jpg (33K)" src="images/52.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link53" id="link53"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +BRONZE DAGGERS. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="53.jpg (129K)" src="images/53.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link54" id="link54"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +CARVED IVORY HEAD. +</h3> +<p> +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? +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="54.jpg (79K)" src="images/54.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link55" id="link55"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +BRONZE BROOCHES. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="55.jpg (16K)" src="images/55.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link56" id="link56"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +ONE OF THE CUPS FOUND AT VAPHIO. +</h3> +<p> +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. +</p> +<p> +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. <br /><br /> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="56.jpg (69K)" src="images/56.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link59" id="link59"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +PLATES. +</h3> +<p> +At Mycenae were found seven hundred and one large round plates of gold, +decorated with cuttlefish, flowers, butterflies, and other designs. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="59.jpg (48K)" src="images/59.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="57.jpg (39K)" src="images/57.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="58.jpg (69K)" src="images/58.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link60" id="link60"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +GOLD ORNAMENT. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="60.jpg (41K)" src="images/60.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link62" id="link62"></a> <br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +MYCENAE IN THE DISTANCE. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="62.jpg (80K)" src="images/62.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +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-h.htm or 9628-h.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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