as umpire of the games, rewarding the victors by giving them crowns of
wild olive leaves. This custom had been kept up ever since, and the
Greek youths considered this simple crown the finest prize which could
be given.
As the Spartans were great athletes, they soon took important parts in
the Olympic games, won most of the prizes, and claimed the honor of
defending the temple at Olympia in all times of danger.
All the people who went to Olympia to witness the games laid some
precious offering before the shrines, so that the temple came to be
noted for its beauty and wealth. Painters and sculptors, too, further
adorned it with samples of their skill, and it soon contained numerous
gems of art.
The most precious of all was a statue representing Jupiter, which was
the work of the renowned sculptor Phid'i-as. This statue was more than
forty feet high; and, while the god himself was carved out of pure white
ivory, his hair, beard, and garments were made of gold, and his eyes of
the brightest jewels.
The temple and grove were further adorned with a great many statues
representing the other gods and all the prize winners, for it was
customary to place a life-sized statue of each of them in this beautiful
place.
During the celebration of the Olympic games many sacrifices were offered
up to the gods, and there were many religious processions in their
honor. Poets and artists, as well as athletes, were in the habit of
hastening thither on every occasion; for there were contests in poetry
and song, and the people were anxious to hear and see all the new
works.
Between the games, therefore, the poets recited their poems, the
musicians sang their songs, the historians read their histories, and the
story-tellers told their choicest tales, to amuse the vast crowd which
had come there from all parts of Greece, and even from the shores of
Italy and Asia Minor.
As the games were held every four years, the people eagerly looked
forward to their coming, and soon began to reckon time by them. It was
therefore usual to say that such and such a thing happened in the first,
second, or third year of the fifth, tenth, or seventieth O-lym'pi-ad, as
the case might be.
Soon even the historians began to use this way of dating important
events; and by counting four years for each Olympiad, as the time
between the games was called, we can find out exactly when the chief
events in Greek history took place.
Although the Olympic games were probably held many times before this
system of counting was begun, and before any good record was kept, we
can trace them back to 774 B.C.
For one thousand years after that, the name of each victor was carefully
written down; and it was only about three centuries after Christ that
the Olympic records ceased. Then the games came to an end, to the sorrow
of all the Greeks.
Several attempts have since been made to revive these games; but all
proved fruitless until the Greek king arranged to renew them in 1896. In
that year a great festival was held, not at Olympia, but in the city of
Athens.
Besides some of the old-fashioned Greek games, there were bicycle and
hurdle races, shooting matches, and contests in jumping. People from all
parts of the world went to see them in as large numbers as they went to
Olympia in the olden times.
The victors in the games, who belonged to many different nations,
received medals, and wreaths of wild olive and laurel leaves; but the
people did not wear crowns of flowers as formerly, nor offer sacrifices
to the old gods, for Greece is now a Christian country.
XXX. MILO OF CROTON.
Among the athletes whose statues were to be seen at Olympia was Mi'lo, a
man of Cro'ton, one of the Greek colonies in Italy. This man was
remarkable for his great strength, and could carry very heavy weights.
In order to develop his muscle and become strong, he had trained himself
from a boy, and had practiced carrying burdens until he could lift more
than any other man of his time.
We are told that he was so earnest in his efforts to become strong, that
he daily carried a pet calf, gradually increasing the distance. As the
calf grew larger, Milo became stronger, and his muscles became so
powerful that he could carry the animal with ease when it became a
full-sized ox.
To please his companions and show them what he could do, Milo once
carried an ox for several miles, and then, feeling hungry, killed it
with one blow of his fist, cooked it, and ate it all at a single meal.
On another occasion, Milo was sitting with several companions in a
rather tumble-down house. All at once he noticed that the roof was
falling in. He stretched up his great arms, spread out his hands, and
held the roof up until all his companions had run out of the house.
Milo's hands were so strong that when he seized a chariot, even with one
hand only, four horses could not make it stir until he let it go. Of
course, Milo was very proud of his great strength, which, however,
proved unlucky for him, and caused his death.
One day when he was very old, Milo wandered out alone into a forest
where some woodcutters had been at work. The men had gone away, leaving
their wedges in an unusually large tree trunk.
Milo, remembering his former strength, gazed for a moment at the tree,
and then, feeling sure that he could easily pull it apart, he slipped
his fingers into the crack. At his first effort the tree parted a
little, and the wedges fell out; but the two halves, instead of
splitting apart, suddenly came together again, and Milo found his hands
held fast.
In vain he struggled, in vain he called. He could neither wrench himself
free nor attract any one's attention. Night came on, and soon the wild
beasts of the forest began to creep out of their dens.
They found the captive athlete, and, springing upon him, tore him to
pieces, for he could not defend himself, in spite of all his boasted
strength.
XXXI. THE JEALOUS ATHLETE.
Near the statue of Milo of Croton stood that of The-ag'e-nes, another
noted athlete, who lived many years after Milo. He too had defeated
every rival. He was the winner of many prizes, and all envied him his
strength and renown.
One of the men in particular, whom he had defeated in the games, was
jealous of him, and of the honors which he had won. This man, instead of
trying to overcome these wicked feelings, used to steal daily into the
temple to view his rival's statue, and mutter threats and curses against
it.
In his anger, he also gave the pedestal an angry shake every night,
hoping that some harm would befall the statue. One evening, when this
jealous man had jostled the image of Theagenes a little more roughly
than usual, the heavy marble toppled and fell, crushing him to death
beneath its weight.
When the priests came into the temple the next day, and found the man's
dead body under the great statue, they were very much surprised. The
judges assembled, as was the custom when a crime of any kind had been
committed, to decide what had caused his death.
As it was usual in Greece to hold judgment over lifeless as well as over
living things, the statue of Theagenes was brought into court, and
accused and found guilty of murder.
The judges then said, that, as the statue had committed a crime, it
deserved to be punished, and so they condemned it to be cast into the
sea and drowned. This sentence had scarcely been executed, when a plague
broke out in Greece; and when the frightened people consulted an oracle
to find out how it could be checked, they learned that it would not
cease until the statue of Theagenes had been set up on its pedestal
again. The superstitious Greeks believed these words, fished the statue
up out of the sea, and placed it again in Olympia. As the plague stopped
shortly after this, they all felt sure that it was because they had
obeyed the oracle, and they ever after looked upon the statue with great
awe.
XXXII. THE GIRLS' GAMES.
Although the women and girls were not often allowed to appear in public,
or to witness certain of the Olympic games, there were special days held
sacred to them, when the girls also strove for prizes.
They too ran races; and it must have been a pretty sight to see all
those healthy, happy girls running around the stadium, as the foot-race
course was called.
One of these races was called the torch race, for each runner carried a
lighted torch in her hand. All were allowed to try to put out each
other's light; and the prize was given to the maiden who first reached
the goal with her torch aflame, or to the one who kept hers burning
longest.
The prize for the girls was the same as that given to the boys; but the
boys took part in more games, and were present in greater numbers,
than the girls, and their victories were praised much more than those of
their sisters.
[Illustration: A Torch Race.]
The crowd of people watching the games often grew so excited that they
carried the victor all around the grounds on their shoulders, while
Olympia fairly re-echoed with their cries of joy.
We are also told that one old man called Chi'lo was so happy when his
son laid at his feet the crowns he had just won, that he actually died
of joy, thus turning his son's happiness into bitter grief.
While all the foot races took place in the stadium, the horse and
chariot races were held in the hippodrome, and excited the greatest
interest. There were two-, four-, and eight-horse races; and, as the
horses were sometimes unruly, the chariots were liable to be overturned.
Thus at times a number of horses would fall in a heap, and lie
struggling and kicking in the dust, which added to the general
excitement.
XXXIII. THE BLOODY LAWS OF DRACO.
You have already learned that Athens was one of the greatest cities of
ancient Greece, and that after the heroic self-sacrifice of Codrus the
inhabitants would not allow any one to bear the name of king.
The sons of Codrus were named archons, or rulers for life,--an office
which was at first handed down from father to son, but which soon became
elective; that is to say, all the people voted for and elected their
own rulers. Then nine archons were chosen at once, but they kept their
office for only one year.
As these men received no pay for serving the state, only the richest
citizens could accept the office; and thus Athens, from a monarchy, or
country ruled by a king, became an oligarchy, or state ruled by the rich
and noble citizens.
As the rich thus held the reins of the government, they often used their
power to oppress the poor, and this gave rise to many quarrels. Little
by little the two parties, the rich and the poor, grew to hate each
other so much that it was decided that a new code or set of laws should
be made, and that they should be obeyed by all alike.
A severe archon called Dra'co was chosen to draw up these new laws (602
B.C.); and he made them so strict and cruel that the least sin was
punished as if it had been a crime, and a man was sentenced to be hanged
for stealing even a cabbage.
When the Athenians heard these new laws, they were frightened. Such
severity had never been known before; and one and all said that the laws
had been written in blood instead of ink. Some of the citizens, hoping
to make Draco change them, asked why he had named such a terrible
punishment for so small a crime as the theft of a cabbage. Draco sternly
replied that a person who stole even the smallest thing was dishonest,
and deserved death; and that, as he knew of no severer punishment, he
could not inflict one for the greater crimes.
The Athenians had all promised to obey Draco's laws, so they were
obliged to submit for a short time. Then, driven wild by their
strictness, rich and poor rose up, drove the unhappy lawmaker out of the
city, and forced him to go to the neighboring Island of AE-gi'na. Here
Draco spent all the rest of his life.
The people were now in a state of great uncertainty. The laws of Draco
were too severe, but they had no others to govern the city. While they
were hesitating, not knowing what to do, Cy'lon, an Athenian citizen,
tried to make himself king.
His first move was to gather together a few of his friends, and go
secretly to the Acropolis, or fortress of Athens, which he took by
surprise. Now that he was master of the fortress, he tried to force the
Athenians to recognize him as their king, but this they stoutly refused
to do.
Instead of yielding, the Athenians armed themselves, met the rebels in a
bloody battle, and killed Cylon himself in the midst of the fight.
As their leader was now dead, and they feared the anger of their
fellow-citizens, Cylon's friends fled in haste to the temple of the
goddess Athene. Once inside the sacred building, they felt quite safe;
for no person could be killed in a temple, or be taken out of it by
force.
Although they had neither food nor drink, the rebels refused to leave
the temple, until the archon Meg'a-cles, fearing that they would die
there, and thus defile the temple, promised to do them no harm if they
would only come out.
The rebels did not quite trust to this promise, so they came out of the
temple holding a small cord, one end of which was fastened to the statue
of the goddess. They were thus still under her protection, and any one
touching them would be guilty of a great crime.
When the men reached the street at the bottom of the hill where the
temple stood, the cord to which they were all clinging suddenly broke.
Megacles, the first to notice this, said that the goddess refused to
protect the rebels any longer, and gave orders to kill the unhappy men.
XXXIV. THE LAWS OF SOLON.
Shortly after the death of Cylon and the murder of his followers, a
great many troubles came upon the city of Athens. The people were
frightened, and soon the friends of Cylon began to whisper that the gods
were surely punishing the Athenians, and especially Megacles, for
breaking his promise.
This report spread throughout the city. The terrified people assembled,
and voted to exile Megacles and all his family, the Alc-mae-on'i-dae. Such
was the fury of the Athenians against the archon whose crime had brought
misfortunes upon them, that they even dug up the bones of his ancestors,
and had them carried beyond the boundary of Attica.
The city had been defiled by the crime which Megacles had committed, and
the people felt that they would never be prosperous again until Athens
had been purified; but the great question was to find a man holy enough
to perform the ceremony.
After much talking, they decided to send for Ep-i-men'i-des, and to ask
him to purify the city. This man, when a mere lad, once went into a cave
near his native town, and there laid himself down to sleep. Instead of
taking an ordinary nap, however, he slept fifty-eight years, without
awakening or undergoing any change. When he came out of the cave, where
he fancied he had spent only a few hours, he was surprised to find
everything new and strange to him.
His relatives had all died, no one knew him, and it was only after some
time had passed that he found out that he had slept fifty-eight years at
a stretch. This man was a poet of note, and, as he had enjoyed so long a
sleep, the people thought that he was a favorite of the gods.
When the Athenians asked him to purify the town, he came to do so; but
when the ceremonies were ended, he refused to accept any of the rich
gifts which the people offered him as reward. Instead, he humbly begged
them to give him a twig of the sacred olive tree which they said Athene
herself had planted on the Acropolis.
Their troubles having now ceased, the Athenians began to think of making
another and less severe code of laws. This time they chose as lawmaker a
wise man called So'lon, a descendant of the noble Codrus; and he soon
consented to tell them what to do.
Solon was a studious and thoughtful man, and had acquired much of his
wisdom by traveling, and by learning all he could from the people he
visited. He knew so much that he was called a sage, and he loved to
meet and talk with wise people.
Solon changed many of Draco's severe laws, arranged that the farmers and
poor people should no longer be treated badly by the rich, and even took
care of the slaves. He also gave the Athenians a court of law called
A-re-op'a-gus. Here there were jurymen to judge all criminals; and here,
for the first time, an accused person was allowed to speak in his own
defense.
When a man was accused of any wrongdoing, he was brought before this
jury, who sat under the open sky at night. No light was provided, and
the whole trial was carried on in the dark, so that the jury should not
be influenced by the good or bad looks of the prisoner, but should judge
merely from what was proved about him.
If the accused person was found guilty, he was also sentenced and
executed in the dark, so that the bright sun god, riding across the sky
in his golden chariot, should not be offended by the sad sight of a man
dying for his misdeeds.
Every citizen of Athens, whether rich or poor, was allowed to vote; and
as a salary was now paid to the men who helped govern the city, even a
man of small means, if elected to the Tribunal, could afford to give his
time to public duties.
By Solon's order the people were encouraged to talk matters over in
public in the market place; and, as the Athenians were fond of making
speeches, many of them became very eloquent.
Solon saw that his reforms were likely to work all the better if they
were fairly tried, and if he were not there to see how the people did.
He therefore made the Athenians promise to obey his laws for ten years,
and again set out on his travels.
XXXV. THE FIRST PLAYS.
In the days of Solon, men were often to be seen wandering around the
streets during the festival of Di-o-ny'sus, god of wine. They were clad
in goatskins, were smeared with the dregs of wine, and danced and sang
rude songs in honor of their god.
[Illustration: Theater of Dionysus.]
These songs were called tragedies, which in Greek means "goat songs,"
because the goat was sacred to the god whom they thus worshiped. The
people were greatly amused by the rude songs and dances of these
worshipers of Dionysus, and crowds gathered about them to listen to
their singing and to watch their antics.
Thes'pis, a Greek of great intelligence, noticed how popular these
amusements were, and to please the public taste he set up the first rude
theater. In the beginning it was only a few boards raised on trestles to
form a sort of stage in the open air; but Thespis soon built a booth, so
that the actors, when not on the stage, could be hidden from public
view.
The first plays, as already stated, were very simple, and consisted of
popular songs rudely acted. Little by little, however, the plays became
more and more elaborate, and the actors tried to represent some of the
tales which the story-tellers had told.
Some people did not approve of this kind of amusement; and among them
was Solon, who said that Thespis was teaching the Athenians to love a
lie, because they liked the plays, which, of course, were not true.
In spite of Solon's displeasure, the actors went on playing, and soon
the best poets began to write works for the stage. The actors became
more and more skillful, and had many spectators, although no women were
allowed on the stage, their parts being taken by men.
Finally, to make room for the ever-increasing number of theater goers, a
huge amphitheater was built. It was so large, we are told, that there
were seats for thirty thousand spectators. These seats were in
semicircular rows or tiers, of which there were one hundred, rising one
above another. The lowest row of all, near the orchestra, was composed
of sixty huge marble chairs. The amphitheater was open to the sky, the
stage alone being covered with a roof; and all the plays were given by
daylight. The ruins of this building, which is known as the Theater of
Dionysus, were dug out in 1862, and are now often visited by people who
go to Athens.
[Illustration: Sophocles.]
The Greek actors soon dressed in costume, and all wore masks expressing
the various emotions they wished to represent. The principal parts of
the play were recited; but from time to time singers came on the stage,
and chanted parts of the play in chorus.
Some of these plays were so sad that the whole audience was melted to
tears; others were so funny that the people shouted with laughter. When
you learn Greek, you will be able to read the grand tragedies which were
written by AEs'chy-lus, Soph'o-cles, and Eu-rip'i-des, and the comedies
or funny plays of Ar-is-toph'a-nes.
XXXVI. THE TYRANT PISISTRATUS.
Not very long after Solon had given the new laws to the Athenians, the
two political parties of the city again began to quarrel. One of these
parties was composed wholly of rich men and nobles, or _aristoi_, from
which Greek word is formed our English word "aristocrat;" the other
party included the farmers and poor people, or _demos_, the Greek term
which has given rise to the word "democrat."
Among the aristocrats, or nobles, there was a nephew of Solon called
Pi-sis'tra-tus. He was very rich; but, instead of upholding his own
party, he seemed to scorn the rich, and always sided with the poor. To
make friends with the democrats, he pretended to obey the laws with the
greatest care, and addressed every man with the utmost politeness.
Once, having killed a man by accident, Pisistratus came of his own free
will before the judges of the Areopagus, confessed his crime, and was so
humble that he quite disarmed the anger of the people.
As soon as he felt quite sure that he had won many friends among the
poor, Pisistratus appeared one day in the market place, covered with
blood, which flowed from slight wounds which he had made upon his own
body.
His polite manners and kindly words had been only a pretense, however;
and he was not only a hypocrite, but also a liar. So he now said that
the aristocrats had tried to kill him because he was the friend of the
people.
In proof of these words, he pointed to his wounds. The poorer
Athenians, who believed him, were very indignant, and began to talk
angrily about the wicked nobles, who had hurt Pisistratus only because
he was ready to help them.
When Pisistratus cried out that his life was no longer safe, all the
democrats exclaimed that they would protect him; and, as they had the
right of voting, they then and there said that he should have a
bodyguard of fifty armed men to protect him.
Pisistratus pretended to be very grateful for this favor, and, under
pretext of choosing his bodyguard, engaged a great number of soldiers.
When his plans were all ready, he took possession of the Acropolis by
force.
The people now found out, but too late, that Pisistratus had deceived
them only to get more power; and that, thanks to the guard they had
voted him, he had become master of the town, and held the reins of the
government.
The Athenians did not long remain angry with their former favorite,
however; for he did all he could to make them happy, and ruled them very
wisely. He improved the city by building magnificent temples and other
public buildings, and made a great aqueduct, so that the people could
have plenty of pure water to drink.
Pisistratus also laid out a public park, the Ly-ce'um, just outside the
city walls, so that the Athenians could go there, and enjoy the cool
shade of the groves he had planted.
Then he began to collect all the poems of Homer, had them carefully
written down, and placed them in a public library, so that the Greeks
could read them whenever they pleased. Until then these poems had only
been recited, and no written copy existed. Pisistratus, therefore, did a
very good work in thus keeping for our enjoyment the greatest epic poems
ever composed.
As Pisistratus ruled just as he pleased, without consulting the Tribunal
or people, he has been called a tyrant. This word in those days meant
"supreme ruler;" but as many of those who followed him made a bad use of
their power, and were cruel and grasping, its meaning soon changed, and
the word now means "a selfish and unkind ruler."
XXXVII. THE TYRANT'S INSULT.
While Pisistratus was thus governing Athens to suit himself, Solon was
traveling in Asia, where he met several interesting persons of whom you
will hear in ancient history.
Solon had gone away for ten years, hoping that the Athenians would
strictly obey his laws. During that time he had no news of his native
land; for there were no post offices or newspapers in those days, and
people neither wrote nor received letters except when something very
important happened.