times round the course would thus be nearly equivalent to two miles; and the race, for the whole of that distance, would be immediately under the eye of every spectator.

The moment for the all-important event at length arrived. Fourteen chariots were entered in the lists, and awaited the preparations for starting in their several stalls. The excitement was terrific. Scarcely a word was spoken by that vast multitude. The officers of the course arranged the preliminaries with a coolness and deliberation that irritated spectators and charioteers. A rope had been passed round the two sides and apex of the triangle, in order to keep every chariot in its stall. The two ends of this rope were now gradually brought forward until they formed one straight line right across the course at the apex of the triangle, and thus enabled all the fourteen chariots to stand abreast. Every steed was now impatient of delay; every driver was anxiously awaiting the signal. At length the appointed officer touched a secret spring in the altar within the triangle, and the bronze dolphin fell to the ground and the eagle soared in the air. Down fell the rope, and off started the chariots. The first pillar was a critical point. To turn it sharply without coming in contact was the object of every aspiring driver. The crowd of chariots tore along the course with fearful speed. To lead the way was of the utmost consequence at the beginning of a race, in order to escape a collision with each other. Some, however, more wary and cautious, kept a tighter hold upon their reins, trusting to their skill to preserve them from danger. Four were clear ahead; then followed eight in a confused mass, two being already left well behind. The first and nearest to the post was compelled to give way to the bold driving of the second which threatened a collision; but all the four got right away to the return side without accident. The fifth, eager to follow their example, produced ruin and desolation. The nave of his wheel dashed violently against the post, smashed the

GREAT FOUR-HORSE CHARIOT RACE.

197

axle-tree, and sent the unlucky charioteer spinning into the midst of his kicking horses. The confusion became general. The crush and collision of the crowd of chariots, the kicking and plunging of thorough-breds, the yells, curses, and prayers of the maddened drivers, rendered the accident so desperate that only three outsiders escaped from the melée in time to follow the four, and show anything like play. Leaving their companions to a misery which was the work of a moment, the seven soon became intermingled, and tore along with alternate success to the conclusion of the race, followed by a few who had lost all chance excepting that of being last. Four times the course had to be traversed. The last pillar was passed. The goal was in view. The fury of the drivers was awful. The horses raced along like steeds of flame, as the wheels bounded like balls over the uneven ground. Neck and neck, the three first drivers lashed their steeds with the desperation of demons. A whip fell, wheels were locked, a second crash flashed upon the spectators like lightning, when the fourth chariot plunged forward, and the race was

won.

In a moment the herald entered the course and proclaimed the name and country of the winner. Then the overcharged excitement of that enormous throng found a vent in thundering acclamations. The great event was now over. The broken chariots and vanquished steeds were taken from the area. The victor drove his winning horses once more along the course, amidst renewed and continuous cheers from the mighty assembly. The remaining races passed quietly away, and thus the games were finished, and the wearied multitudes left the hippodrome to talk of horses and athlete, and prepare for the thanksgiving sacrifices, triumphant coronations, and joyous banquets of the morrow.

Bright Day, born of Night and Darkness, again smiled. upon the sacred valley. Solemn but joyous processions

were marching once again to the great temple of Olympian Zeus. Pious hymns and triumphant songs rang through the clear blue ether. The sacred portions of a thousand victims were burned upon the holy altar, whilst the remainder were set apart for the public banquets of the afternoon. The consecrated tripod was prepared for the coronations. The garlands, cut with a golden sickle from the sacred olive tree, were all ready. Winner after winner then ascended the bronze tripod; and the olive crown was placed upon his head, and the palmbranch of victory was given into his hand. Exulting parents, kinsmen, friends, and countrymen, rent the air with joyful acclamations. The happiness of a victor was indeed more than mortal; it elevated him to the gods. Garlands of flowers were scattered on his head and strewn upon his path. Poets, like Pindar and Simonides, saluted him with immortal odes. Henceforth his name would be canonised in the Greek calendar, and be as familiar in the mouth as household words. Statues would be erected in his honour. But the crowning triumph of a victor would be the return to his native city. The gate and wall pulled down, to show that he alone could protect the state. The exulting procession of his fellow-citizens, with flowers and palms. The well-trained chorus, singing the triumphant ode. The decorated chariot and the four white horses, bearing him in his purple robes to the temple of the guardian deity of his city. Joyous sacrifices, magnificent banquets, sumptuous gifts, and glorious nobility. So blest and godlike would be his life, that Pindar well might say, "Aspire no higher, mighty conqueror, lest the avenging Nemesis seek to humble such presuming pride and such insatiable ambition!"

The present night, however, was to be spent at Olympia in national banquets to the great body of Olympic victors. The tables were arranged upon the greensward. The roasted flesh of the thousand victims was eaten with

CONCLUDING FESTIVITIES.

199

joy and exultation. Wine, music, and choral odes, enlivened the vast multitude of feasters. Scenes, incident to the occasion, ever and anon attracted the notice and applause of that mighty assembly. The eldest of eight sons had gained the victory in the boxing match; the youngest had been equally successful in the pancratium. The exulting young men carried their proud old father in triumph on their shoulders. The spectators threw garlands upon the glorious three, and a Spartan cried to the father, "Die now, Diagoras, for you can wish for nothing higher." Songs, revelry, and thanksgivings to all-potent Zeus. Such was the conclusion of the great festival of the eightieth Olympiad.

200

-FASTING DISCUSSED.

CHAP. XIV.

DELPHI, B. C. 460.

HERODOTUS BECOMES AMBITIOUS. — AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. STORY OF ARION AND THE DOLPHIN. VOYAGE TO DELPHI. PITCH LAKE IN THE ISLAND OF ZACYNTHUS. ARRIVAL AT THE DELPHIAN PORT OF CIRRHA. -MOUNT PARNASSUS. -APPEARANCE OF DELPHI. CASTALIAN SPRING. HERODOTUS VISITS THE WONDERS OF DELPHI. STORY OF THE HEROES PHYLACUS AND AUTONOUS. IMMENSE TREASURES AND VOTIVE GIFTS IN THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO. TRIAL OF THE ORACLES. WHITENED PHOCIANS AND PANIC-STRICKEN THESSALIANS. HORSES' LEGS AND EMPTY JARS.

upon

THE great banquets were over, and once again Herodotus stood by moonlight upon the heights of Cronium. His ears were still ringing with the plaudits which Hellas had bestowed her favourite sons. The flame of young ambition had been fairly kindled in his breast, and he had felt constrained to leave his light-hearted and unsympathising companions to commune with his own thoughts in mysterious solitude.

Ambition may be one of the loftiest or one of the meanest of human desires. Power which shall command universal homage is the goal to which ambition leads. Those who succeed even in part are supposed to be happy; those who fail, seek to hide their defeat. Riches might do much; but, for aught Herodotus knew, he might have them already in his grasp. He might, if he pleased, enter a chariot for the next Olympic festival. But if he won the race, could he win more than barren applause and useless fame? Would it instruct or benefit Hellas? Would it even give him the government of a single village? Politics was a game for grey-beards. Poets