Requiem For Athens

by David Alkek

  Phidias sat at a table in the portico of the Temple of the Muses built on an elevation with a view down the wide avenue toward the harbor. He gazed at the busy harbor allowing his thoughts to roam from the cataloging he was doing. The city was not as iridescent as he remembered the Aegean. The harbor was much grander than the one at Piraeus, but he missed his homeland and especially Athens.

  How long had it been since he had seen Athens? Almost 40 years, he reckoned as realized he was approaching seventy years of age. His legs hurt when he climbed the steps of the temple or museum, and his eyes had trouble reading the many manuscripts that were collected.

  His attention shifted from the distant harbor to the slaves working in the museum. They were carrying in and arranging specimens of stuffed animals, insects and butterflies in containers, reptiles and amphibians in jars. In another area slaves carefully shelved scroll after scroll under the supervision of a Greek scholar. There were books on every subject from anatomy, astronomy, biology, mathematics, history, biographies, and philosophy. The museum had collected so many books that Phidias was going to ask Ptolemy to build a large separate building for the library alone.

  One of the young Greeks, who was supervising the cataloging of some books, approached Phidias. "Pardon me, Master Phidias, but could you help me catalog this treatise from Lachaetes of Syracuse. He has written on the teachings of Pythagoras. He has mathematical theorems, of course, but also relates them to them in a mystical way to some of the new religions from the East. Should I place it in the section on mathematics, or religion, or perhaps philosophy next to those of Pythagoras and his followers?"

  "Let me read the manuscript and I will decide where to place it," Phidias replied. "Do you enjoy your work here at the museum, Cleanthes?"

  "Oh yes, I am hungry for knowledge and devour what I can from the scholars here. I like to study the mathematics and science at the Babylonians and Persians developed. The collection of books is such a treasure of information. I hope to use that knowledge someday for great projects in Egypt."

  "Books are my love also," said Phidias. “I am caretaker of these books, for they are my children, since I have none of my own. I lavish my time and love on them. I read them of course, add notes of my own, and have the slaves repair and copy them. They contain all the knowledge that mankind has painstakingly found by trial and error and carefully collected and passed from generation to generation to us. We no longer have to memorize and recite histories as Homer had to do before there was writing. Knowledge doesn't have to be passed from father to son, some being lost, and some having to be rediscovered. Now each generation is free to add to the cumulative knowledge of the past."

  "That is a wonderful message, Master Phidias. You ought to teach it. Where did you get that insight?"

  “I was a student of the great teachers, Plato and Aristotle. I have their books. Their teachings will not be lost after those whom they taught are dead. They will live on, studied by future scholars. Thus it should be with all knowledge."

  "Thank you. I will leave Lachaetes’ book with you and get back to supervising the slaves."

  Phidias opened a scroll, but could not concentrate on the script. He had mentioned the revered names of Plato and Aristotle, which stirred his recollections and brought them into the vivid present. Alexandria might be developing into a center of culture and learning, but it would never overshadow the brilliant glory that was Athens. He loved his work here, but he had planted the seeds and nourished the beginnings of this museum. Ptolemy and the supervisors he had trained would continue the process.

  He missed Athens, the lively arguments in the marketplace, the brilliant conversation in the symposia, even the political bickering. They are what made life interesting in Athens. He especially missed his friend, Aristotle and the intellectual stimulation at the Academy. He longed to stroll the paths of his Lyceum. Perhaps he would write to Theophrastus and ask him if it was safe to return to his beloved Athens.

  Phidias heard from Theophrastus of the peaceful atmosphere ruling Athens and again went to Ptolemy, demanding that he be allowed to return there. Once more Ptolemy demurred.

  "I told you before that I will not allow you to leave Alexandria. You're doing a good job in the plans I have for a wonderful museum and library."

  "But Ptolemy, the supervisors that I have training can take care of the facilities. The scholars that are here will draw others..."

  "I said, no!" Ptolemy slammed his fist on the maps that he had been studying. Antigonus is gathering an army. He may invade Egypt. He is a very capable general, the best survivor of those who serve Alexander. To tell you the truth, I am afraid of him. Now leave me from your pleadings to go back to Greece.

  "I will be occupied in trying to save Egypt and your precious museum. And now... go back to the good work that you're doing."

  Phidias left. He understood Ptolemy's anxiety over his political situation. He felt even stronger in his desire to return to Athens. He would approach Ptolemy again when he thought the time appropriate.

  * * *

  During the revolt of Athens and other cities against Cassander, Olympias, Alexander's mother, led an army from her homeland Epirus. While Cassander was busy in the south, she took Pella and visited wrath on any of her opponents.

  "That witch!" Cassander exploded. She caused my father unceasing trouble, while he ruled Macedon for Alexander. Now she will give me more headaches."

  "She has made it no secret that she wants to unite the Empire under Alexander's son," said one of his generals.

  "And of course, she will be his regent," said Cassander cynically. Still considers herself Queen of Macedon. I will have to deal with her after I have finished with the Greeks."

  After Cassander returned victorious to Macedon, he chased Olympias from Pella and had her executed.

  The year after Ptolemy moved to Alexandria, Antigonus and his son struck.

  "I will cross the Hellespont and attack Lysimachus in Thrace and Cassander in Macedon," Antigonus told his son. "I will cut off the source of supplies and mercenaries from Greece that Ptolemy needs. Seleucus is in Babylon, and no threat for now."

  "What about Ptolemy?" Demetrius asked.

  "Take a contingent of about twenty thousand to Gaza. You can block him there if he comes out of Egypt."

  Demetrius did that, but Ptolemy surprised him by bringing a large force across the Sinai, supplied by new ships. He overwhelmed Demetrius, who fled north.

  Meanwhile, Antigonus was having trouble supplying his army due to a lack of naval power, and soon withdrew back to Asia Minor.

  Ptolemy, followed up his victory by advancing up the coast and capturing Sidon, Tyre, and lower Syria..

  The two sides called a truce and licked their wounds. All the allies except Seleucus signed what amounted to an armistice. Antigonus planned to hunt down Seleucus, with his son. The war would resume four years later.

  During the next year when Antigonus and Demetrius failed to destroy Seleucus, Ptolemy took advantage and annexed the island of Cyprus, that rich source of copper, from which it got its name.

  That same year Cassander was also preparing to defend himself politically. "I can't allow anyone to use Alexander's son as rallying point against me, like Olympias tried to do. He and his mother must die."

  "But, Sire," one of his advisers replied, "won't that play into the hands of Antigonus? He had Alexander's sister murdered. He wants to unite the whole Empire under himself."

  "That will take away his excuse that he is uniting it for young Alexander. He will thus be shown to be the naked aggressor that he and his son are."

  Alexander's half-brother had already been killed. When Cassander executed Roxana and her son Alexander, it ended the Argead family line.

  * * *

  Phidias felt that the time was right for him to plead with Ptolemy once more. He waited until after the celebrations of his victory and the news that Cyprus was now a part of Egypt's growing territory.

  Phidias asked
for a meeting in the morning, before Ptolemy began his official business, and was ushered into Ptolemy's chambers. He had finished his breakfast and was lounging in comfortable clothes on a veranda with a view of the harbor in the distance He would not see official visitors until after his bath and noontime meal. The sun was not hot yet and a pleasant breeze caressed the open area. Ptolemy welcomed his old tutor and organizer of his museum.

  "Sit down, my friend," he gestured to serve fruit that was on the table." Have some fruit. Have you had your breakfast? Perhaps some wine?"

  "No thank you, Ptolemy. I have not had the chance to congratulate you in person for your remarkable success against Antigonus." He raised a cup of fruit juice.

  Ptolemy raised his own cup in acknowledgment. “And what important business brings you here?"

  "There are no serious problems at the museum and library. In fact, they are growing steadily. More scholars are visiting us and many have asked to stay. No, the institutions are doing so well, that I feel I can approach you once more about my leaving Alexandria."

  Ptolemy raised his brows and started to reply.

  Phidias lifted his hand to continue. "I know that you have been occupied with your own political security, but now you have it. I have carefully considered my arguments for you to allow me to return to Athens. I give you the following reasons, why you should grant my wish. I am getting old, now seventy winters. My legs rebel at the thought of climbing all those steps to the library. My eyes cannot read the small script of the scrolls, and I must have younger men read them to me. I have trained others how to collect and organize the books that come from all corners of Alexander's Empire. My sources will continue to send them. The library is rapidly outgrowing its present facility. You will have to spend many talents on constructing new buildings, and that will take years.

  “There is peace for now among the successors of Alexander, and you have expanded your power. You are secure in your kingdom. Cassander rules Greece and Athens is peaceful under Demetrius Phalerum.”

  Phidias paused and stood erect as if to emphasize his next statement. The most important reason of all is that, even though you are King and Pharaoh of Egypt, I am not your slave. I am a free Greek and have the right to leave without your permission. I only seek it out of courtesy and friendship. If you do not grant it, I will leave with the summer winds in any case.”

  "You have made your arguments well, my friend," said Ptolemy. "It is true that I cannot force you to stay, but hoped that you would do so out of loyalty to me and the important work you are doing here. I grant you permission to return to your beloved Athens. I will make sure a proper vessel is provisioned for your journey. Not only that, but I want to reward you for your years of service to me. I will instruct my treasurer to give you five talents. You may take as many of your slaves with you that you may need. All I ask is that you remember me with charity when you teach or write your history."

  "Thank you, Ptolemy, you have truly been a friend as well as a generous sponsor of my work for the museum. I will never forget your wisdom as a ruler and your friendship to philosophers."

  Phidias took his leave and prepared for his journey home. He had not seen Athens for thirty-two years.

  VIII The Road Back

  Chapter 36

  As the vessel rolled up its sail and the oarsmen carefully guided it into the harbor at Piraeus, Phidias' eyes filled with tears. He stood near the bow and noted how new shops and houses had sprung up along the shore near the port. His ship glided past many vessels, obviously not manned by Greeks. They seemed to be from every port in the Mediterranean, Aegean, and Black Seas. Colorful sails and pennants, exotic costumes, and foreign smells filled his senses.

  He had brought with him some of his books, letters from Aristotle and others, and all of his notes. He left behind all of his slaves, whom he had freed, except for his old manservant, Pilocrates, who had followed him from Athens to Pella and throughout Asia to Egypt. He had been head of the household of over twenty slaves in Alexandria. He also brought Lydia, who refused to leave him, and would serve as cook and housekeeper.

  Slaves took his belongings to the house that Theophrastus had arranged for him. Phidias had written to him that he was returning and Theophrastus was overjoyed that his fellow student of Aristotle was coming. He had assured Phidias that a place was waiting for him at the Lyceum.

  As Phidias was led through the streets of Athens to his new home, he noticed the changes that the years of his absence had brought to the city. The people were dressed in costumes and colors of the rainbow, reflecting their varied origins from all over the expanded Greek world. Athens was not the monotonous undyed cotton or wool of its past years. There were purple cloaks from Tyre, scarlet caftans from Persia, and silk scarves and sashes from as far away as India in brilliant green, yellow and blue.

  Many of the houses that Phidias remembered had been torn down and replaced by larger homes of the new rich. The houses were also more colorful, the newer style called for doors, shutters, window frames, and eaves to be painted in colors and patterns limited only by their owners' imaginations.

  Finally, the servants of Theophrastus stopped in front of the gate to Phidias' new home. He noticed it also was freshly painted a forest green. Inside the gate, they crossed a small courtyard and entered the house proper. The house was small, by the standards that Phidias was accustomed to in Egypt, but it would fulfill all his needs for the time being. He would use some of the money that Ptolemy had given him to purchase larger accommodations when he found what suited him.

  Over the next few days, Phidias visited the Lyceum and discussed teaching there. Some of the philosophers and scientists were either old acquaintances or men that Phidias had heard of. They were anxious to meet this man who had followed Aristotle to Pella and then followed Alexander on his conquests. They asked him what his experience was of King Philip, of Alexander, and of Ptolemy.

  "You were with Aristotle when he was tutor to Alexander," said one. "What did he actually think of his student?"

  Phidias took a deep sigh and stared into the distance, as if reliving the years when he had Aristotle first saw Pella and the future conqueror of the Persian Empire. "Aristotle was excited about being the tutor of the son of a strong king, and was encouraged to find Alexander an intelligent youth with a thirst for knowledge."

  They asked Phidias about Philip and Olympias, about Alexander's personality, and of course about Phidias' experiences in Asia.

  "I can tell you," he said after an hour or so regaling them with tales of murder and mayhem, "that Aristotle became disappointed. You heard stories of how bloodthirsty barbarism that Alexander had inherited from his mother, and the wild drinking of his father, began to overwhelm the civilized culture that Aristotle had instilled in him.

  "It tore at his heart," he looked sadly around the rapt faces. After Alexander killed Aristotle's nephew, Callisthenes, he turned his back on him. I knew it must've said it deeply, but I never saw or spoke with him again." He choked, unable to go on.

  One of the other philosophers patted his back. "We miss him, also. He was such a brilliant man. It is a great loss to us."

  Phidias nodded. He thought to himself, it was a great loss for Athens, too. He could see that the brilliant minds of the Greek world were gravitating no longer to Athens, but to Alexandria.

  "Phidias," another philosopher interrupted his thoughts, "you have such detailed knowledge of these persons and events. Why don't you write them down in a book, so that they can be shared and will not be lost?"

  "Perhaps I will. I have my journals, but I have not put them in any readable order. It is such a daunting task. I have never written a book. I don't know if I can."

  "You must," said someone, and they all murmured agreement.

  Phidias fell silent, overcome with the thought that he should do something that he felt unprepared to do. He shoved the thought aside temporarily and enthusiastically immersed himself in the intellectual atmosphere of the Lyceum.


  * * *

  As Phidias made his way through the crowded streets one day he noticed that ambling among the colorful people were dark men with rough and dirty clothes. Some walked in groups with menacing stares, obviously armed. Beggars with filthy rags over a sightless eye or a walking stick in place of a missing leg hugged the walls, holding out a hand or cup for passersby to drop a coin into.

  Phidias knew that these were not veterans of Alexander's army, who were all provided for by the dead conqueror. They were the victims of the violence between bands of hired thugs. Phidias had heard that Greece was riddled with petty lords that carved out pieces of the countryside and defended themselves against their neighbors with foreign or Greek mercenaries. As long as they pledged allegiance to Macedon, Cassander allowed these warlords to have their own sway. He shook his head in disgust as he watched a group of ruffians shove their way through the crowd, roughly pushing aside anyone who was too slow to move. Phidias backed to a wall watching the men go by, holding his breath at the stench that accompanied them.

  "Good evening, Master Phidias," Lydia said as she opened the door to his house. She followed as he walked through the open courtyard with its small fountain. "Do you want to eat now? I made a stew with some fresh lamb I got in the market today."

  "Not right now, Lydia. I'm a little winded after climbing that last hill to our house. Bring me a little wine to my room. I want to lie down for a while before eating."

  Lydia brought him the wine diluted about two thirds with water. She had been Phidias' slave for almost 20 years. He had offered freedom to Lydia along with his other slaves in Egypt, but the old woman had said, "But Master, what will I do and where will I go? You need me to care for you in your advancing age. Who would cook your meals and wash your clothes?"

  Phidias agreed with her logic and they grew inseparable as he relied on her and Pilocrates for all his bodily needs. He listened to her prattling and respected the down-to-earth wisdom she possessed. A daily visitor to the markets, she listened for the latest gossip. The slaves always knew what was going on in the homes of the rich and powerful.