A huge crowd is awaiting the procession, and the sacred grove of Olympia is surrounded by a tent city, housing thousands of spectators. Strangers crowd together— even celebrities:
Plato the son of Ariston shared a tent at Olympia with some men he did not know, nor did they know him. He so gained their affection with his comradery, eating with them simply and passing the days with all of them that the strangers felt fortunate to have met this man. He made no mention of the Akademy, nor of Sokrates. He only told them that his name was Plato. Later, when they visited Athens, he received them graciously, and the strangers said, “Plato, please take us to see your namesake, the student of Sokrates, take us to his Akademy, and introduce us to that man so that we can enjoy him.”
He responded, quietly and with a smile as was his custom, “I am that man.” [Aelian, VH4.9; A144]
As the crowd settles in, smoke from fires and sacrifices is thick overhead and the air fills with the cries of people from all walks of life. One ancient author describes the scene at the Isthmian Games of about fifty years before our Olympics (probably of 359 B. C.): “That was the time to hear crowds of wretched sophists around the Temple of Poseidon as they shouted and heaped abuse on each other, and their so-called students as they fought with one another, and many historians reading out their stupid writings, and many poets reciting their poetry to the applause of other poets, and many magicians showing their tricks, many fortune-tellers telling fortunes, countless lawyers perverting justice, and not a few peddlers peddling whatever came to hand” (Dio Chrysostom 8.9-12; A145).
Other sources relate that poets, painters, and sculptors attended the games to display their works and seek commissions from victorious athletes or pious pilgrims. Indeed, Herodotus publicized his History of the Persian Wars by going to the back porch of the Temple of Zeus and reading to the crowds from the manuscript he had just completed. Dio Chrysostom’s reference to peddlers is hardly surprising, but the excavations at Olympia show that all the official weights, used in commercial activities to weigh produce and other goods, belong exclusively to the fifth and early fourth centuries. This suggests that in later times commercial activities were removed from close proximity to the religious center. Further, all the weights of the earlier period found within the Altis (Sanctuary of Zeus) were located in the northwestern corner, at the entrance; none were in the central area around the Altar of Zeus.
All this hustle and bustle went on against a backdrop of discomfort that served to show just what visitors were willing to put up with in order to be a part of the festi-
Val: “There are unpleasant, difficult things in life. But don’t they happen at Olympia? Don’t you suffer from the heat? Aren’t you cramped for space? Don’t you bathe badly? Don’t you get soaked whenever it rains? Don’t you get your fill of noise and shouting and other annoyances? But I suspect that you compare all this to the value of the show and endure it” (Epictetus, Disc. 1.6.26-28: A146).
Returning to the morning of August 7: now the Hellanodikai must go to the council house (Bouleuterion) with the athletes to make their final determination of the athletes’ age and administer the oath. This determination will be based at least in part on an examination of the athletes, as well as of their fathers, brothers, and trainers, and even after an athlete’s age is established the Hellanodikai must decide whether an eighteen - or nineteen-year-old is so well-developed physically that he has to compete in the andres (men’s) category. We hear of athletes having nightmares because they feared that even though they had marched from Elis to Olympia with the boys (paides), on this day they would be assigned to compete against men (Artemi-doros, Oneir. 5.13: A 93). The age certification for the horses will also be made, apparently at the same time and place as for the athletes.
The classification by age clearly had a lot to do with an athlete’s chances, and the Hellanodikai had to swear that they would not accept bribes in making their decisions. The whole scene would have been chaotic, with pushing and shoving all round, and arguments undoubtedly breaking out about the age classification of various boys and horses. Adding to the confusion would be the horses, who were apparently excited by the statue of a horse that was considered by the Eleans to be magical:
It is much inferior in size and beauty to all the horses standing within the Altis. Moreover, its tail has been cut off, which makes the figure uglier still. But stallions, not only in springtime but on any day, are in heat towards it. In fact, they rush into the Altis, breaking their tethers or escaping from their grooms, and they leap upon it much more madly than upon a living brood mare, even the most beautiful of them. Their hoofs slip off, but nevertheless they keep on neighing more and more, and leap with a yet more violent passion, until they are driven away by whips and sheer force. In no other way can they be separated from the bronze horse. [Pausanias 5.27.3-4]
Yet it is here in the Bouleuterion that the formal oath is now administered in front of the statue of Zeus Horkios (Zeus of the Oath). Pausanias describes the scene: “Of all the images of Zeus, the Zeus in the Bouleuterion is the one most likely to strike terror into the hearts of sinners. This Zeus... holds a thunderbolt in each hand. Beside this statue it is established for the athletes, their fathers and brothers, and their trainers to swear an oath on slices of the flesh of wild boars that they will do nothing evil against the Olympic Games” (5.24.9; A 90; fig. 206).
Fig. 206 Zeus Horkios holding a thunderbolt in each hand, flanked by his altar and a sacrificial pig. Bezel of a gold finger ring. London, The British Museum, inv. no. GR 1988.10-20.2 (photo:
® The British Museum).
Now come the first competitions, but these are not for the athletes. The contests take place on an altar near the entrance to the stadium, and they are for the trumpeter (salpinktes; see fig. 164) and the herald {keryx; see fig. 163). The winners of these two events will function as the ancient equivalent of the public-address system, announcing events, competitors, and winners. On this August 7 in 300 B. C., the winner of the trumpet contest is Herodoros of Megara.
The remainder of the day will be taken up with sightseeing, watching the crowd, and making sacrifices. The horse owners, in particular, will attend to these duties for their competitions will take place the next day, and they want to appease the evil spirits (embodied in the Taraxippos) that might operate against them in the hippodrome.
At dawn on August 8 a procession sets out from the Prytaneion, at the northwest corner of the Altis, where the sacred flame burns (see figs. 166,167). Leading this procession are the priests of Zeus and the Hellanodikai, clad in purple and carrying switches with which to punish athletes committing a foul. The marchers visit sixty-three altars to various gods located within the Altis. (There were actually more altars, but some were used for special purposes and did not belong to the standard processional sacrifices.) Perhaps the most interesting altar they stop at is the Altar of Zeus Apomyios (Fly Averter). Given the crowds at the Olympics and the number of sacrifices, involving huge quantities of blood and meat, fly control was clearly a concern.
Now the scene shifts to the hippodrome. The trumpeter blows a blast to summon the crowd, and the competitors and their horses pass in review. As each competitor goes by, the herald announces his name, his father’s name, and his native city-state. This information is given so that challenges can be voiced about the competitor’s eligi-
Fig. 207 The Nike at left holds a palm branch for the winner of the pankra-tion, while another hovers with the ribbon. Another athlete watches from the right. Panathenaic amphora by the Painter of Athens 12592,360/59 b. c. Athens, National Museum, inv. no. 20046 (photo: © Treasury of Archaeological Receipts).
Bility: is he under any charges of homicide or sacrilege? Is he a citizen in good standing of his city-state or an exile? Is he Greek? Every competitor in every event has to pass through this review.
The first competition is the one most geared to the aristocracy: the tethrippon (four-horse chariot) race (see figs. 145-150). Here the wealthy will display their economic power. Alkibiades, for instance, entered seven different tethrippa in 416 B. c. (Isokrates 16.32-35: A 67, and Thucydides 6.16.2; A 219), and the unpopular Dionysios of Syracuse entered several in 388 (Diodorus Siculus 14.109; A 245). The crowd was pleased when they all crashed. Today the victor is a repeater, Theochristos of Gyrene.
Next comes the horseback race (keks; see figs. 151-153), followed by the two-horse chariot race (synods; see figs. 154,155), which was a more recent addition to the program but was well-established by the end of the fourth century. Finally, a few years before our games a four-foal chariot race (the tethnppon polikon) was added to the program, and this would be the final event in the hippikos agon. Once more the Hellan-odikai would have examined the horses to determine who belonged in this age category (the polos), just as with the athletes, a horse might be declared too old (or too well developed) to belong to the polos category (Pausanias 6.2.2). Unfortunately, we don’t know who won any of these races in 300.
With the completion of the equestrian competitions, the scene would shift to the stadium, immediately north of the hippodrome, and to the competition in the pentathlon. This will be the first of the gymnikoi agones (nude competitions). As already discussed, we don’t know how the victor in the pentathlon was chosen, but once someone won, his name would be announced, and he would receive a ribbon (tainia) to tie around his head and a palm branch (klados phoinikos). (The winners of all the events got these; fig. 207). The herald would announce his name (fig. 208), and he
Fig. 208 A diskos thrower and a runner approach the herald, who is announcing the victor. Meanwhile, a judge ties another ribbon around the head of the victor, who already has ribbons on his arm and leg and holds the branches and flowers showered on him by the crowd. Red-figure amphora of the Pezzino Group, ca. 500 B. c. Munich, Staatliche Antiken-sammlungen und Glyptothek, inv. no. 2420.
Would make his victory lap (periageirmos) while the crowd cheered and showered flowers and ribbons on him in a tradition known asphyllobolia.
As in today’s Olympics, some athletes were more popular than others and received more ribbons and flowers: the victor in figure 208 has three ribbons, and other paintings show even more. In the Olympics of 448 B. c„ two brothers from Rhodes, Akousilaos and Damagetos, each won a victory—one in boxing, the other in the pankration (Pausanias 6.7.2-3; A 370; Pindar, Pythian 10.22; Plutarch, Pelopidas 34.4; Cicero, Tuscul. Disp. 1.46.111). They took a joint victory lap and then ran into the crowd to pick up their father—who had himself been an Olympic victor (see fig. 289). As the two sons paraded their father around the track, the crowd went wild and showered them with flowers. At that point a Spartan shouted out to the father, “Die now Diago-ras! You will never be happier.”
We should not forget, however, that most of the competitors lost and returned empty-handed to the locker room. These are the defeated ones who, as Pindar says, run home to their mothers by slinking through the back alleys (Pythian 8.77-78; A 249).
The pentathlon would conclude the first day’s competition. In the evening the victors would celebrate and stage parties for their friends. One of the most famous such celebrations took place in 416 when Alkibiades, after his victory in the tethrip-pon, borrowed the official golden ritual vessels of the Athenians to serve his guests. But he allowed them to believe that he owned the vessels, much to the chagrin of the Athenians ([Andokides] 4.29; A116). On the evening of August 8, then, the tent city surrounding the Altis would be pricked with isolated spots of light, where the winners I'ejoiced with their friends. Meanwhile, in the silent darkness, the losers would bemoan their luck, and athletes still to compete would hope that they would be having their own victory parties in the nights to come.
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Fig. 209 The central part ofthe Altis at Olympia with the Temple of Zeus and the conical Altar of Zeus, formed from the ashes of previous sacrfices. Reconstructed drawing from F. Adler et ah, Die Bauiienkmaier von Olympia (Berlin, 1896), pi. 132.
There is evidence to suggest that the day of August 8,300, ended with sacrifices to Pelops at his shrine, located between the temples of Zeus and Hera. This was the earliest cult center at Olympia, and the sacrifices performed late in the day on August 8 served as a preliminary to the great sacrifice to Zeus that would occur on the next day, even as Pelops probably represents an early cult figure who was supplanted by the great Olympian god.
The night of August 8-9 marked the full moon, the panselinos, that ushered in the religious high point of the games: the great sacrifice at the Altar of Zeus. In the second century A. D. we know that the altar was conical, roughly 7 meters high and about 10 meters in diameter (fig. 209). But because it was created entirely from the ashes of previous sacrifices, it has disappeared without a trace, and we must rely upon Pausa-nias (5.13.8-11) for this description and dimensions. Its bulk was created in part by individual sacrifices performed at various times during the year, but most of it came from the sacrifice held on the day of the full moon every four years. This was August 9 in 300, although in ancient times the new day actually began at sunset on the 8th.
The morning of August 9 would begin with the great procession through the Altis led by the priests and the Hellanodikai followed by the athletes and the official ambassadors of the various city-states, all eager to make a good impression for their home towns. Ambassadors would bring the finest table service from their city-states in order to entertain guests at Olympia, and these gold vessels and incense burners would be set on display, especially during the procession of the panselinos. (We can thus understand why the Athenians were outraged when Alkibiades implied in 416 that their vessels were his.) But the central element in the procession were the hundred oxen for the hekatomb, the sacrifice the Eleans would offer to Zeus. The animals would be taken to the great altar and slaughtered. Then their thighs would be placed on the top of the altar and burned for the gratification of Zeus, while the rest of the meat was roasted and distributed to the crowd. This was the great banquet put on by the local hosts for their guests (who probably supplemented the feast with food of their own). Anyone who has been in a Greek village on Easter will have a feeling for this scene.
Now we come to a problem that has yet to be solved. Many scholars have placed the competitions for the boys, the paides, on the afternoon of the day following the panselinos. If they are right, and if we are correct in assuming that the competitions for the boys were completely separate from those for the men, then in 300 the boys’ competitions in the stadion, wrestling, and boxing would have been held on the afternoon of August 9. But would anyone pay much attention to the competition after all the feasting? Given the brevity of the program for the boys, it is possible that they competed late in this day, but I suspect that they actually competed on the morning of the next day and that the remainder of August 9 was spent in recovering from the feast.
On August 10, however, the program is as clear as our sources can make it, for this was the day of the gymnikoi agones for the individual athletes. Here the path of the athletes can be traced, following the same route the pentathletes and the boy competitors marched on the previous days.
The Hellanodikai and the competitors approach the stadium from the Altis. Before arriving at the stadium, they pass twelve bronze statues of Zeus, set in two groups of six (see fig. 173). These are the Zanes — statues paid for out of the fines levied against athletes who were caught giving and taking bribes to throw a match. The first group was erected in 388, the second in 332; both stand as warnings to our athletes in 300 that an Olympic victory is not to be bought or sold; if they cheat, the shame of their corruption will live long past their lifetime.
After they pass the Zanes, the Hellanodikai and the athletes come to the locker room (apodyterion) behind the Echo Stoa, where the athletes will undress, oil theirbod-ies, and begin to focus on the competitions. Leaving them there the Hellanodikai now enter the stadium through the tunnel (krypte esodos), cross the track, and and take their places on the Hellanodikaion —the only permanent seating in the stadium, and the base from which they will run the games. While the committee responsible for the running events is supervising on the track, the other Hellanodikai remain in their seats watching over the whole competition. They are surrounded by spectators, the closest of whom are from Elis.
This home-field advantage had sometimes been exploited, but not this year. In the early sixth century the Eleans had been advised not to participate in the games if they wanted to convince people of the absolute fairness of their games, essential to maintaining the Olympics’ preeminence (Herodotus 2.160; A105). They decided to ignore this advice, but later, after charges of favoritism following the double victory by the Hellanodikes Troilos of Elis in the synoris and the tethrippon polikon in 372 (Pau-sanias 6.1.5; A107), the Eleans decided that a judge could not enter the hippikos agon.
Once the judges have settled in the stadium, the athletes enter the tunnel, where they wait for their names to be called. They pass from the sunlight into the dark tunnel, back into the sunlit track. The alternation of light and dark, heat and cold, will increase their tension, which heightens further as the noise of the crowd hits them. As each athlete’s name is announced, and he runs out onto the stadium track, we can imagine his friends and fans cheering and applauding, while those of his opponents jeer (see fig. 199). The moment is dramatic —and magical. Athlete and spectator transcend their usual selves. For a few moments everyday life is left behind.
The first race is the dolichos (long-distance) race (see fig. 65). The competitors approach the balbis (starting blocks), position their toes in the cool stone grooves, and wait for the signal as the hysplex falls (see fig. 37). Because it takes much longer to run than the other races the dolichos serves as a warm up for the crowd, who probably now drag themselves in, recovering from the parties and feasting of the day before. But everyone is surely in the stadium on this morning of August 10 for the original and still the premier event of the Olympics; the stadion race.
We have some evidence that there were so many competitors in the stadion that it was run in two heats, followed by a runoff between the victors of each (Pausa-nias 6.13.4; A 99). If so, there may regularly have been up to forty-four competitors in the stadion since the balbis at Olympia had twenty-two lanes. Indeed, we know of one occasion where seven competitors in the stadion came from a single city-state (Strabo 6.1.12).
The winner of the stadion race can expect to gain even more than the ribbons and palm branch, the victory lap and the phyllobolia. His name will be added to this Olympiad; the 120th will forever be known as the Olympiad when Pythagoras of Magnesia (in Asia Minor) won the stadion. Ancient historians referring to events that occurred in, say, 297 (by our reckoning), wrote that they took place in the fourth year of the Olympiad when Pythagoras won, events in 293 were dated to the fourth year of the Olympiad when Pythagoras won for the second time (this athletic star repeated his victory four years later). Because of this custom of naming the Olympiad after the victor in the stadion we know the names of more than 250 ancient sprinters, that is, more than a millennium’s worth of stadion victors.
Back at our games, runners once again take their places at the balbis, but now they form in alternate lanes for the diaulos, the double-stadion race (see figs. 63-64). Today’s winner is a local Elean named Nikandros, and the absence of protest suggests that he has won without any help from his fellow citizens, the judges. After the diaulos there may have been an intermission while the skamma was prepared for the heavy events. Pairs of athletes have to be selected for these events, and they may already have been chosen, either at Elis or in the Bouleuterion here at Olympia. Or they could be chosen now, at the stadium. This seems the most likely, for it would make it harder to “fix” the pairs.
Whenever it was done, we know that the procedure called for the athletes to be arranged in a circle around the Hellanodikai, who had a silver vessel that held the small lots, marked in pairs with letters of the alphabet (Lucian, Hermotimos 40; A 97). Next to each athlete stood a slave known as a mastigophoros, a whip-bearer for punishing fouls. It was the job of the mastigophoros to prevent his athlete from looking at the letter on his lot until everyone had drawn from the vase. Then one of the Hellanodikai would go around the circle inspecting the lots and announce who was paired with whom. If there was an uneven number of competitors, one would get a bye for the first round of competition.
The first of the heavy events was usually the wrestling (pale). But the sequence could be changed if an athlete was entered in two events, for example, and did not want to be hurt in the riskier boxing before continuing in the second event (Pausanias 6.15.4; A 95). Such changes usually involved putting the boxing at the end of the program. Once, however, the favorite for the wrestling was so unpopular with the Eleans that they actually canceled the event rather than allow him the chance to win an Olympic victory (Dio Cassius 80.10; A 9 6). The practice, though it appears contrary to the ancient Greeks’ commitment to impartiality, is continued in the modern Olympics, where schedules are often juggled to accommodate particular athletes. On this day of our Olympics the victory goes to a famous strongman: Keras of Argos, who, it is said, has such a tremendous grip that he once tore the hoof from a bull struggling to get away from him (Africanus, Olympiad 120).
Next comes the boxing (the pyx or pygmachia), won by Archippos of Mytilene. The final event of the heavy competitions is the pankration. A Boiotian from Anthe-don, Nikon, takes the prize; he will win his second victory at the next Olympiad in 296. The final event of the day, and of the Olympic Games — at least according to modern scholars—would be the hoplitodromos (race in armor).
As the evening of August 10 draws in, the last athletes clean up and leave the apodyterion. Many have already departed Olympia, hoping for a fast getaway ahead of the crowds. These are probably the losers and their friends, for there are still the final ceremonies to come, and the victors are sure to remain for them.
On the last day of the festival, August n, in front of the Temple of Zeus, the final prize of victory is awarded to each winner, a crown of wild olive leaves that has been cut from the trees behind the temple. These branches must be cut with a golden sickle by a boy whose parents are both still living (Schol. Pindar, Olympian 3.60). The crowns have been sitting on display on a special gold-and-ivory table stored in the Temple of Hera (fig. 210). The table was made by Kolotes, a pupil of Pheidias, who also helped the master create the gold-and-ivory statue of Zeus inside the temple (Pliny, NH 34.87
And 35.54).
Fig. 210 The table of Kolotes with a crown. Bronze coin of Elis, a. d. 117-138. Olympia, Archaeological Museum, inv. no. M 876 (photo: author).
Fig. 211 A victorious athlete bearing his preliminary tokens of ribbon and branches prepares to receive the olive crown from Nike while another athlete, holding a stlengis, looks on. Red-figure pelike by the Painter of Louvre G 539, ca. 410 B. c. Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, inv. no. 19,769.
Now the victors, wearing their ribbons and clutching their palms of victory, pass before the Hellanodikai to receive their crowns — the ultimate proof of victory, which they will take home to share with their countrymen (fig. 211). They will be welcomed with an eiselasis, a triumphal entry into the city (Aelian, VH 12.58, and Pliny the Younger, Letters 10.118; A 372b and 211) and awarded a free meal every day for the rest of their lives (IG P131 and Plato, Apology 36d-e; A 221 and 231). They or their families may have already commissioned a statue or an ode to commemorate the victory. And their names will be entered into the official register of victors. But the leafy crown of olive will quickly wilt, dry up, and finally disintegrate. It is ephemeral. The real prize lies in the victory itself.
The Olympic festival ends with a victory dinner given by the Eleans to the newly crowned winners in the Prytaneion, where the ceremonies had begun three days earlier. These victors now join the select few who enter the chapters of Olympic history. Meanwhile, the spectators look for carriages, and the roads from Olympia are filled with pedestrians and horses, satiated by their experience and resolved to come again, but determined next time to find a way to beat the traffic. As one spectator groused in A. D. 165, “The end of the Olympic Games soon came — the best Olympics which I have seen, incidentally, of the four which I have attended. It was not easy to get a carriage since so many were leaving at the same time, and therefore I stayed on for another day against my will” (Lucian Peregrinus 35; A147).
World History
