CHAPTER VIII
‘Ther as need is they were nothyng ydel,Ther fomen steeds on the golden bridelKnawing.’Chaucer:Knight’s Tale.‘And while she seemed to hear her beating heart,Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out,And forth they sprang.’Morris:Atalanta’s Race.
‘Ther as need is they were nothyng ydel,Ther fomen steeds on the golden bridelKnawing.’Chaucer:Knight’s Tale.‘And while she seemed to hear her beating heart,Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out,And forth they sprang.’Morris:Atalanta’s Race.
‘Ther as need is they were nothyng ydel,Ther fomen steeds on the golden bridelKnawing.’Chaucer:Knight’s Tale.‘And while she seemed to hear her beating heart,Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out,And forth they sprang.’Morris:Atalanta’s Race.
‘Ther as need is they were nothyng ydel,Ther fomen steeds on the golden bridelKnawing.’Chaucer:Knight’s Tale.
‘Ther as need is they were nothyng ydel,
Ther fomen steeds on the golden bridel
Knawing.’
Chaucer:Knight’s Tale.
‘And while she seemed to hear her beating heart,Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out,And forth they sprang.’Morris:Atalanta’s Race.
‘And while she seemed to hear her beating heart,
Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out,
And forth they sprang.’
Morris:Atalanta’s Race.
Thesame year which saw his triumph as an orator and a statesman gave Alkibiades an opportunity of another triumph, in Grecian eyes, no less great and wonderful. The first had brought with it immense advantage to the state, and repaired the injuries inflicted by the weakness of poor Nikias; the second enabled him to do perhaps as great a service to his country, and shine resplendently before the whole of Greece.
In the year 420 the ninetieth of the Olympic games was celebrated. The war, which had continued, with varying success, between Sparta with her allies and Athens, shut the Athenians out of Elis, the territory in which the Olympic gameswere held. Athens had been excluded from the two last contests. Argos and Elis, though neutral in the war, were allied with Sparta, and dare not act against her. This alliance was at an end. Elis could now welcome the Athenians.
They determined by the splendour of their appearance to make up for their absence at the two last festivals, and give the lie to the Spartans, who were spreading it about that Athens was so ruined by the ten years’ war that she would be unable to make a show at the coming games.
His patriotism and generosity, his love of splendour, his foresight, his ambition, all determined Alkibiades to make an occasion for display such as no individual ever made before, and such as no Greek has ever rivalled since.
The plain itself where the Olympic games were held had been designed, it seemed, by the gods themselves only for this purpose. The vale was sacred to the gods, the games were, as it were, divine.
During the four years which intervened between each celebration the Olympic valley was tenanted by its sixty temples, nearly three times as many altars, and a thousand statues of former victors. No human beings were allowed within that sacred spot except the priests who tended the altars andministered within the temples, which the gods, as it was said, loved to inhabit. The scene was fit for gods. The very air was more diaphanous, serene, and clear, the rivers, the woods, the hills, more lovely, than elsewhere; the flowers there gave out a more delicious fragrance. All was filled with a peace divine, and with the beauty of the world.
But when the cycle of the months of quietude was past, then all was animation, as striking as the peace had been before. The Eleans, special guardians of the sacred vale, had sent their unarmed troops in preparation. Greeks were hurrying hitherward from every colony, island, city, town, from all the villages of Ionia and Greece. The Spartans alone, on account of their base conduct, were excluded. Stadia, theatres, and places where the manly combats of all sorts would be witnessed by unnumbered crowds, were ready. Soon the surrounding hills were covered by ten thousand tents and other temporary habitations. Where silence had reigned so long, all became bustle and activity, until the day came when the ‘architheori,’ who were the chiefs selected to head the missions of envoys (called ‘theori’) sent by the different states to represent them at the sacred games, were seenapproaching the renowned Olympic valley, with all their followers, high and low, musicians, singers, runners, wrestlers, boxers, and athletes of every kind.
Unless we realize the depth of the religious meaning of the games we shall but inadequately understand the honours that were given to the victors. After due study of the history of the Grecian race, we say advisedly that no honour known in Greece, whether that given to the statesman, the poet, sculptor, tragedian, or even to the greatest warrior and general, was to be compared with the honours given to the victors at these games.
A statue of each victor was erected there; and the people of his native town or village went forth to meet him as he returned, and brought him home in triumph, with garlands, music, and with incense. An opening was made in the city walls, that he might come in by a way no one had entered through before. His name was graven on stone or brass in the most noted place, and he and his descendants after him were maintained at the sole charges of the state. No Roman Emperor, proceeding in triumph through the streets of Rome, was more honoured than a victor at the Olympic games.
And the reason was the holy sanction given them. It might be of the last importance to the several states that their young men should be for ever training themselves, keeping their bodies in subjection, strengthening their thews, their muscles, and their nerves, so that at each returning festival they might maintain the glory of their native towns or villages, and prepare themselves to fight when called on for their liberties. That was, indeed, a great thing, and had an influence on every man and boy, and woman too, within them. But the first thought that ran through all was to do honour to the gods, who in their various temples deigned to be present and accept the services and sacrifices that were offered to them.
And this, the ninetieth Olympiad, was for many reasons peculiarly grand. First came the Korinthian theori, with their four-horse chariot, destined to run in the chief race, with their chanters and musicians, as well as their athletes, in magnificent array. Ere they had been received by the presiding priest and his attendant train, the smaller company that had come from the island of Chios was seen descending from the north-east of the Olympic hill, which protected that side of the natural amphitheatre. Lesbos came next, thenKyzikos from the distant Propontis. And then processions from all the different Ionian and Doric Grecian towns, from all except from Sparta. Each was distinguished by its own style of dress, which differed in some respects from that of the others; each with its athletes and its chorus; most of them with their racing chariots.
When they were all assembled, some began to sneer at Athens, saying that after all her boasting they doubted if she would appear at all, being too proud to make a humble show, too impoverished to make a great one. When all were welcoming friends long unmet, kinsmen, and old acquaintances, and there was a general feeling of expectancy, a stir arose among them, a consciousness of something coming, and over the highest road appeared the foreguard of the architheorus of Athens. He was drawn superbly in his equipage of state. Then followed the renowned athletes, the well-known champions with the diskos, the wrestlers, boxers, runners, whose names were known as household words in all the Grecian cities. Then came the four-horse chariot of the state, which also would contend in the great chariot race, the crowning contest of the sports.
So the Athenians’ stately show came on. Thosewho had jeered were silent; all saw that Athens meant to do her best, and would, an she could, still show herself the first of all. But then appeared a wondrous thing—another chariot with four bays, driven by Tolas, the famous charioteer, now in the service of Alkibiades, and surrounded by his retainers.
It was soon noised abroad that this fine chariot and its more splendid horses, bred by Alkibiades himself, and reared on his patrimonial estates, was sent by him to strive to wrest the first prize from all states and peoples who should contend. Seldom, it was said, had any private individual yet been known to send a four-horse chariot. Though cities and states and kings and tyrants might do so, it was considered too great a burden for one man so to uphold the honour of his land, and thus do service to Olympic gods.
Before the people had recovered from their astonishment, and to the amazement of them all, there followed close behind another chariot, driven by another of Alkibiades’ men, and then another, and then two more, all four-horse chariots belonging to him. And before their fresh wonder was abated, lo another four-horse chariot, and then another. This last one, more ornate and graceful, designed for show rather than for the roughcontest of the race, was driven by its lord himself. The four magnificent black steeds, scarcely less fleet than those of the first chariot, knew well his voice and face, but best of all the firmness of the hand that guided them.
The cheers, the shouts of admiration, the joy of all the people, as he passed along, proved how the honour he had done to them, to the games, and to the gods, was recognised by everyone. The theori of various cities vied with one another in their welcome. The Ephesians asked to be allowed to offer him a sumptuous tent, in which he might repose; Chios, that it might provide the forage for such horses; the Lesbians, that they might supply his wine and his repasts; while the theori of Kyzikos sent him the victims for his holy sacrifices.
Next day began with prayers, libations, solemn processions, and sacrifices to the gods; for the gods themselves had not disdained of old to strive for prizes at these games. Then came gymnastic exercises. The first prize was won by Klynios of Korinth. Then a race for youths wont to do all their exercises nude, and in the open air, not shivering and coy, as unaccustomed to the light and fresh air of the heavens, but as if in their native element, unclad.
Then a chariot race, won by the state of Argos. Two chariots of Alkibiades took part in this; one came in fourth. Then many contests of leaping, boxing, wrestling, and then a chariot race, won by the Boiotian chariot. This was a most exciting race, and would have been won by Alkibiades, as most men said, but that the Syrakusan competitor went too near the altar of Taraxippos, dreaded of all horses, and steeds, chariot, and charioteer were commingled in the dust, in front of the Athenian car, just as its driver prepared to make his final rush; so it obtained only the second prize.
The first day’s sport concluded with music and selections from the ‘Ajax’ and ‘Agamemnon’ at the larger theatre. Alkibiades was loudly cheered as he came in with the missions of Thebes and of Athens. And after that came a brilliant feast, at which the Eleans entertained the representatives of the various states and all who had come to try for prizes at the games.
On the second day a race for hoplites, heavy-armed soldiers, with nothing on but their shining greaves and helmets and carrying their shields, opened the proceedings. Then a chariot race, won apparently by the Boiotian federation—at least, in their name the chariot had been entered, and asa Boiotian victory it was proclaimed. But then a curious scene occurred. A rich and well-known Lakedaimonian named Laches, who was allowed to be present as a private person, but was not permitted to take part in the contests, because of the conduct of his countrymen, unable to restrain his pride, rushed forward eagerly and placed a wreath upon the head of the victorious charioteer, an act which implied that he, and not Boiotia, was the real owner of the chariot. The people were indignant at the trick by which the Spartan attempted to outwit them and to set the order of the sacred games at nought. The Elean guardians of the course, seizing the offender, punished his act of disobedience by scourging him, and drove him from the ground.
On the third day, after many other races, came the pentathlon, in which the victor had to excel in the fivefold exercise of running, jumping, wrestling, and throwing the spear and the diskos. The name of him who won the prize for these combined accomplishments has not come down to us. Then, last of all, came the greatest of the races, in which the four-horse chariots of different states—Korinth, Miletos, Chios, Samos, Argos, Lesbos, Athens, Abydos—took part, and also the private chariot of Alkibiades. The Thebans, whohad won on the first day, prayed that they might be suffered to contend again in this the crowning struggle. They were especially pledged, if possible, to beat their rival Athens; and, indeed, as the end proved, they did excel the architheoric chariot. By consent of all the judges Thebes was allowed to race, although already victors at these games.
Whatever attention had been given to the various events by those who cared especially for this or that peculiar form of emulation, it was all concentrated now on the closing contest. Some thought they could trace signs of anxiety on the face of Alkibiades, as he assisted Tolas to mount the lightly-built, well-balanced vehicle, and could catch almost a pathetic look as he stroked the manes of those dear horses who knew his touch, and neighed with equine love as they turned their heads and saw their master, giving promise that, come who might against them, they would do what in them lay to bring him glory and repay the care he had bestowed upon them. How many times in after-years he thought of those so cherished animals, their more than human fidelity!
But now it was time to take his place among the great men and hide all traces of emotion.It was for this moment he had longed so many years, of this he had so often dreamt by night, to this, when a boy, he had looked forward as the great effort of his life—his worthiest effort. Now it was here—the very moment was arrived.
He was speaking courteously to those near him—men whose names would live in their various cities for generations not yet born; but he saw them indistinctly, or as in a dream. His thoughts, his eyes, were there where ten chariots stood abreast and forty horses were waiting for the signal to be given, their hearts leaping with excitement, feeling as though wings had come upon them and they must fly. And off they went; the cries were deafening. Seas of faces watched them upon their way; seas of faces greeted them as they turned the corner and the first round was run. ‘Thebes and Boiotia!’ cried the crowd, as the victor of the first day’s race was seen to lead. ‘Thebes and Boiotia!’ yelled the Thebans, and all who took their side. Thebes and Boiotia seemed, indeed, to be about to gain the double prize.
Here they come round for the last time, and the trumpets sound a gallant flourish. Now they near the end. Thebes and Boiotia first—notmuch ahead of Tolas there, just behind, as calm as his master tries to be—now scarcely ahead at all. ‘Ye gods, a hundred victims if I win!’ And as he stretched forth head and neck, forgetting his affected carelessness, among the mass of faces gazing all one way, peering to catch the first sight of the flying chariots, the horses straining every nerve and sinew of their frames, he met the great eyes of Sokrates turned full upon him.
Some had come to sell their wares: painters to puff their pictures; sculptors to show their graven images; authors to recite their works, if they could get a chance; most had come to watch the games and races. Sokrates had come to watch mankind, and amongst them one he cared for more than all the rest.
It was no time now to notice Sokrates. The chariots were scarce three hundred yards to where the winning-post was waiting for them, when, as with a bound into the air, the four bay horses brought their car up to and right ahead of all the others, and shouts arose: ‘Boiotia’s beaten! Tolas comes in more than two chariot-lengths ahead! Athens and Alkibiades!’
He heard no more distinctly. The hills went round for a moment, a mist came over them;he felt his hands grasped by many a rough and horny palm, and then he heard an endless shouting in his ears, and he felt somewhat ashamed as he wiped away a few big drops that had started from his forehead, and one or two others that had gathered to his eyes.
Before them all he was crowned with the simplest wreath on earth, made of wild olive-leaves, but the wild olive-tree from which they had been gathered grew only in that sacred grove, and the wreath was worth more to him and every other Greek than any kingly diadem. There was a great feast given by the architheori that night to the several victors in the games; and first among them, calm and radiant, sat the Athenian conqueror.
When it was over and he had retired to the tent provided for him by the state of Ephesos, and his servants and companions had left him, seeking their various amusements or repose, he strolled forth disguised, to muse in quiet after the day’s excitement. The scene was a curious one, the plain and its surrounding hills glimmering with ten thousand lights, and far and near resounding with music, mirth, and revelry; yet he heard and saw but little. While deep in a dreamy state of happiness, and some half-conscioussense of being still unsatisfied, a well-remembered voice recalled him to himself:
‘Son of Kleinias, art thou now content?’
‘Why not, Sokrates?’
‘Does the prize which thou hast won, that barren wreath of olive, satisfy thy soul?’
‘What could on earth, if that did not?’
‘Thou seest these thousands of the Greeks of every state and city except one, all engaged in peaceful rivalry and games, and in the service of the gods; would it not be well if Greece could ever be at peace, and all the cities and peoples live together, like one state?’
‘Indeed, I think it might be well.’
‘And hadst thou not an opportunity of late to keep peace with the bravest of them all—the rough and manly Spartans?’
‘I know not what you mean, Sokrates. I did the best I could for Athens. But tell me, thou who art so fond of questioning, when first the gods made man, did not they put into his heart a love of war? And if we should have peace for ever, might not mankind, grown sleek and fat, perchance forget the gods, nor ask for courage, nor delight in manly exercise?’
‘Not so, oh son of Kleinias, for peace wouldnourish wisdom, and so bring out all that is virtuous in man.’
‘But war also gives many opportunities of acquiring wisdom and practising virtue, and let me ask you this, Sokrates, have not the great gods planted in man’s breast a strong wish to propagate his race, and if there were no wars, would not the earth be overrun with men, till they must starve or feed on one another? Is it not better that we, being men, should die in noble combat, like the heroes who have gone before us, than feed like wild beasts upon our fellows?’
‘Son of Kleinias, thou hast put too long a question. I cannot answer it. The gods alone know which is better, peace or war.’
Soon after this conversation Alkibiades assisted at the ratification of the Argive treaty. It had been stipulated that this should be done at these Olympic games. So before the temple of Olympic Zeus, where the great gold and ivory statue of the god, the masterpiece of Pheidias, had lately been erected, he and the other leading men and generals on both sides swore, with libations to the god, to observe it faithfully.
Then he gave his splendid banquet to the Elean chiefs, to the various missions which had come from all parts of Greece, and to the victorsin the different games. Next day he set out for home; and the people from the isles and colonies, and all the states of Greece, departed, and the Olympic vale became once more the quiet habitation only of the gods and their attendants.
He went back much in the same array as that in which he came, but with an added glory. He had come as a competitor, he returned a victor. Seated in his chariot, dressed in purple, the wild olive wreath upon his head, he entered Athens. If he had been a god, indeed, descending from Olympos, he could hardly have been more rapturously received. The city in one mass came out to meet him. Flowers were strewn along the way; with songs and incense he was greeted. Friends and foes alike strove who could give him warmest welcome. None could keep at home on such a day. The people were seized with a joyful madness, like a troop of Bacchanals.
Afterwards, when enthusiasm had quieted, as all enthusiasms will in time, Pyromachos, the sculptor, was ordered by the city to design that wonderful bronze statue of Alkibiades, which represents him in a life-like attitude, himself driving the four-horse chariot with those noble animals by whose aid he won the chief prize at the ninetieth of the Olympic celebrations.