If the riderless horse is superb, it is certain that the chariot, the ancient Greek chariot, immortalized by Homer, is the most æsthetic frame for it. The other day I read a commonplace remark from Madame Dacier, who has only, and quite justly, seized the meaning of words in Greek. “I do not understand,” she said, “why the Greeks, who were so wise, should have used the chariot for so long a time—why they did not see its great inconvenience. I am not speaking of the difficulty of managing a chariot, although it is far greater than of managing a horse; nor of the space occupied by it: I only say that there were two men to each chariot. These two men were important individuals, both fit for war. Yet only one of them could fight. Moreover, some chariots required not only two, but even three or four horses for a single warrior—another loss which merits attention.”
[p196]
The excellent Madame Dacier has forgotten one thing, that the Greeks were devoted to beauty before everything else. They liked the chariot, because the quadriga was a superbly æsthetic picture—a moving pedestal for the hero. So that the chariot was not only an engine of war in their eyes; it was an object of luxurious pleasure. Do you remember the beautiful descriptions of chariot-races which fill the literature of Greece, and particularly the plays of Sophocles?
Do you remember, amongst others, the account of the tutor of Orestes? For my own part, I never witness one of these heroic displays without the lines of the divine poet recurring to my memory.
“At sunrise the chariot-races took place. Orestes appeared, and with him many charioteers. One was Achean, another from Sparta; two came from Lybia, true masters of the reins. Orestes was fifth, with mares from Thessaly. The sixth brought light chestnuts from Etolia. The seventh was from Magnesia. The eighth, a son of Enia, advanced with white horses. The divine Athene had sent the ninth. Lastly, a Beotian mounted the tenth chariot.
“The heroes were standing, and when the lots had been drawn and their places were assigned to them, they sprang forward at the blast of the brazen trumpets. All together they raised the beasts; they shook the reins; the arena was full of the roll of their ringing chariots. And all mingled, confused, lavished the whip to pass by the axle of some opponent. And the breath of the horses, covered with foam, the backs of the drivers, and the wheels of the chariots. [p197]
“When they reached the last post Orestes grazed it slightly with his axle. He slackened the reins, and gave the wheeler his head. With his right hand he restrained the other. . . . He was preparing for the finish of the race. But when he saw that only the Athenian was left, he made his [p198] whip whistle round the ears of his steeds, and sprang forward behind his rival. The two chariots rolled on in front. Alternately they passed and re-passed each other by the length of a head. Upright in his uninjured chariot, Orestes had successfully run in every race; but in giving the left rein to the horse rounding the post, he struck the column. His axle was broken; from the height of his chariot he rolled entangled in the reins, whilst the frightened horses tumultuously rushed into the arena.”
Pantomime—another ancient amusement—is the glory of the Hippodrome as well as the races. All who saw it will still remember the splendours of the Chasse. It seemed difficult to find anything more brilliant, for there are not many subjects which can be used for these grand spectacular shows. When a Roman Triumph has been displayed, a Nero with chariot races, a Fête amongst the Rajahs with rivulets of precious stones, an Arab Fantasia, a fairy piece, and a genuine Congo, the management must fall back upon military pieces. But we live upon former triumphs, and the Hippodrome dare no longer produce old-fashioned effects from its storehouses.
The embarrassment of M. Houcke the manager, who arranges his own plays, was therefore very great. The resources of a large place like the Hippodrome vary from one season to the other. Sometimes acrobats form the great novelty, sometimes a troupe of vaulting clowns is the central attraction. Lastly, the horses were there to be exhibited, so that the director found himself obliged to select a military pantomime.