href="#fb3_img_img_5bd58f1c-dffb-5082-9c4c-b573a8a3d6d8.jpg" alt="Pericles, son of Xanthippus, Athenian. Roman copy after a Greek original, c. 430 BC."/>
Pericles, son of Xanthippus, Athenian. Roman copy after a Greek original, c. 430 BC.
“You misunderstand me,” replied Pericles, showing no sign of irritation. “I believe our responsibility to protect the Delian League is a sacred obligation, and I would never shirk it. But our duty is to provide protection in the form of soldiers and ships, which we have done and will do. And if we are providing it, what grounds would the league have to grumble?”
The opposition was having none of it. The crowd grew restive.
“Well then,” continued Pericles, “if you are convinced we cannot use the Delian treasury, even though the city is so stocked with armaments that we will not have to purchase more for a generation, then I will pay for the rebuilding on the Acropolis myself. I rather like the idea of having the name ‘Pericles’ across the pediment of Athena’s temple!”
At first there were some cheers. Pericles was fabulously rich; he could afford it. Then the idea sank in. The temple was still in the planning phase, but it was obviously going to be spectacular, the largest and the most elegant of its type. If Pericles got his way, rather than being a monument to Athens and her people it would be a monument to one wealthy man who might start to think of himself as a king. Suddenly, using the Delian treasury seemed like the prudent course.
It was often like that when you argued with Pericles. One of his toughest political opponents – an Olympic wrestling champion – once said that even if Pericles were wrestled to the ground he could convince everyone standing around looking at him lying on his back that he had actually won the match.33
Plutarch, Pericles 8. Pericles’ chief political opponent was named Thucydides (possibly related to the historian of the same name).
“Fine,” spat the old man, “get on with it, and spend what you like, as long as not one piece of silver comes out of your blasted pockets.”
The Acropolis: the dawn of time
“I saw it first, Athena,” said Poseidon testily, “and it’s mine.”
It was true. As the lord of the ocean cavorted in the sea one day, a gleaming white rock about a mile ashore caught his attention. Upon further investigation, he found the site to be not only beautiful but also strategic, commanding broad views of the surrounding plain. Poseidon resolved that it should be sacred to him, and the few rude humans who had been living there would worship him.
Then Athena arrived to see what had captured her uncle’s notice. As goddess of both wisdom and war, she quickly recognized the value of the Acropolis and laid claim to it as well.
Poseidon’s anger at Athena’s challenge set off earthquakes, and the fur-clad humans who witnessed this standoff muttered uneasily as the rock moved beneath them.
Athena was unimpressed. Instead, she gestured toward the men. “Why not let them choose? They are the ones who will be worshipping one or the other of us, so they may as well have a voice in the matter.”
Poseidon thought for a moment, then grasped his trident and jabbed it deep into the rock. A spring gushed forth – salt water, the men discovered when they stuck their hands in it to be sure it was real. Poseidon folded his arms smugly as they marveled at his power.
Amasis Painter, olpe with the contest between Athena and Poseidon, c. 540 BC.
Athena stretched out her hand. At first nothing happened, and Poseidon looked even more smug. Then a small rock tumbled over. A green shoot appeared where it had been and promptly grew into a small but sturdy tree with silvery leaves and green fruit.
Athena beckoned to the men. “This,” she said, “is an olive tree.”
A man picked one of the fruits and took a bite, which he quickly spit out. Rinsing his mouth with the salt water, he sputtered, “It’s terrible! Must be poison.”
“It is nothing of the sort. It just needs to be prepared correctly,” Athena replied. Poseidon yawned. She glared at him and went on: “The fruits are hard and bitter now, but if you cure them in salt they become delicious and will last a long time. Or you can press them and they’ll give you a wonderful oil that can be used for everything from cooking to dressing your hair. The tree itself can grow out of a rock and it takes care of itself.”
Athena let the men come to the obvious conclusion. While a salt spring might be impressive, it was of little practical use since the water couldn’t be drunk. This tree, on the other hand, offered shade from the sun as well as food and oil. In the end, the men voted unanimously to accept Athena’s gift. Athens had her patroness.
So goes the myth of the founding of Athens, setting the stage for the great developments that took place in the city from the sixth to the fourth century BC – developments that reverberate through Western culture to the present day. The Athenians viewed themselves as being specially favored by the goddess of wisdom and war, and they believed that as long as they and their exceptional city were under her protection they would excel in both. But as legend told them, they had not passively received favors from the Olympians; they had made the crucial decision about the destiny of their city themselves.
The Theater of Dionysus: April 472 BC
“A curse is a heavy thing, Pericles,” sighed Aeschylus.
“Don’t I know it,” Pericles replied wryly.
“It’s certainly not something to joke about,” the older man scolded. “I know more about curses than any other man in Athens.” He was, after all, the city’s foremost writer of tragedy.
The revered playwright and the young politician were sitting on wooden seats above the circular stage of the Theater of Dionysus, watching the final dress rehearsal for The Persians. The annual drama festival would begin the next day, and a trio of tragedies by Aeschylus were considered frontrunners for the top prize. The Persians in particular was attracting attention because it featured a contemporary event – the invasion of Greece by the Persian Empire – rather than a traditional subject such as the affairs of the gods or the legendary deeds of ancient heroes. Comedies, another innovation, had recently brought a lighter note to the popular theater festivals, but Athenians always preferred the tragedies, the darker and more heartrending the better. They appear to have reveled in painful topics, relishing the sight of the powerful and wellborn grappling with the same merciless fate that beset the common people.
Pericles was serving as the choregos, or producer, for Aeschylus at the Festival of Dionysus.44 The Athenian governing council, the Boule, honored selected wealthy citizens by allowing them to pay for the plays. The choregos was also responsible for hiring the actors, training the musicians, and overseeing the sets. Pericles had recently received a substantial inheritance when his father died, and he was delighted to have been chosen as the producer for Aeschylus.
Stephen V. Tracy, Pericles: A Sourcebook and Reader (University of California, 2009), 15, 22. Of the three tragedies that Aeschylus presented at this festival, only The Persians survives. The first play, Phineas, and the third, Glaucus, apparently both dealt with more traditional, mythological subjects.
