Ictinus, Callicrates and Phidias, The Parthenon, 447–32 BC.
The Parthenon and the Birth of Democracy in Athens
Freedom is the sure possession of those alone who have the courage to defend it.
PERICLES, “Funeral Oration”
as quoted by Thucydides in the History of the Peloponnesian War
The Acropolis, Athens: 449 BC
Not one column remained standing, nor a single statue on its pedestal. The entire sacred precinct of Athens had been demolished with calculated thoroughness in two vindictive attacks, the first one in September of 480 BC. While most of the population had already been evacuated, a small force of temple stewards remained behind and fought valiantly, but unsuccessfully, to defend their sanctuary. Ten months later, the invaders came back to complete the destruction.
When the Persians attacked, the Athenians were in the process of rebuilding on the great rock that dominated their city. Some five hundred feet tall, with a surface area of almost eight acres, it had been inhabited for centuries and was known as the Acropolis, or “high city,” which functioned as both a citadel and a sacred space. The citizens were starting to construct a grand new temple to Athena, their special protectress, on top of it in thanks for their prosperity and freedom, but the Persians put an end to that project. While they had no love for any of the Greeks, they harbored a special hatred for Athens, which had been the first to assist the Greek colonies of Asia Minor in their rebellion against Persian rule. So they ravaged the entire city – perhaps frustrated by the paucity of human victims. Their devastation of the Acropolis was especially systematic and savage, leaving only the bases of temple columns and a thick layer of dust and ash.
It turned out to be a parting shot. When the small Greek city-states – usually more inclined to attack each other than band together in common purpose – had first begun resisting the mighty Persian Empire in the 490s, the effort seemed futile. But to everyone’s surprise, an unlikely alliance under the leadership of Athens defeated the Persians decisively and forced them out of Greece in 479 BC. The allies took an oath not to rebuild what the Persians had torn down, but rather to leave the ruins on their citadel as a reminder of what they had lost and of the need to remain vigilant in case the Persians returned.
Over the years, the Athenians went about fortifying and rebuilding much of their ravaged city, while the wreckage remained on top of the Acropolis. But after thirty years it was more of an eyesore than a memorial. Peace terms highly favorable to the Greeks had finally been reached with the Persians in 449 BC, and Athens had a leader who was determined to revive and expand the building projects that the Persians had derailed. He was the son of the politician Xanthippus, and his name was Pericles.
The Athenian Ecclesia – the popular assembly of male citizens who were eligible to vote in the city’s democratic system – was meeting in its customary place on the Pynx, an unkempt hillock at the foot of the Acropolis. Pericles had already made the case for a magnificent new complex of buildings and monuments on the citadel, centering on a great temple to Athena. This would only be fitting for the metropolis that was now the undisputed leader of Greece, he had argued. The question before the Ecclesia that day was how to pay for it.
Originally, Pericles had reasoned that the work on his various building projects around the city would provide a way for laborers to earn a share of the public wealth, just as warriors did. It was a savvy move that brought him a well-trained, disciplined workforce and broad political support.11 The Ecclesia had at first approved the expenditures with little question, but the staggering cost of the construction was becoming a scandal.
Plutarch, Pericles 12.
Pericles had enemies, particularly among the old guard – his father’s friends – and they smelled weakness. The traditionalists of Athens disliked the Acropolis rebuilding plan; they thought the rubble should be left as it was. They had even less appreciation for the efforts of Pericles to shift political power from the great families to the wider citizenry. They expected to bring him down a notch or two at this year’s vote over continued funding of the construction on the Acropolis.
When Pericles strolled to the center of the meeting space as if he had not a care in the world, the crowd immediately made room for him. A small man in his mid-fifties with a neatly trimmed beard, his most distinctive physical feature was his unnaturally large head. What was truly remarkable about Pericles, however, was his confidence.
“Friends, I have solved the problem of the building accounts,” he said in a tone so engaging that even his bitter enemies – of whom there were several in the crowd – might feel that he was speaking directly to them. “Surely you can all see it as plainly as I. Why else would Athena have brought us the treasury of the Delian League if not to use it in her honor?”
The assembly was shocked into silence. The money in the Delian treasury had been deposited by the various city-states in the league – the alliance that had expelled the Persians – in return for Athenian protection. Traditionally housed on the island of Delos, this money had recently been moved to Athens, ostensibly so it could be better secured.
Pericles’ enemies pounced. “Now you have gone too far!” thundered one old man, who by tradition spoke first because of his age. “They already suspect us for moving the treasury in the first place. What will they say when they learn we have used the money they have entrusted to us for waging war instead to bedeck Athens as if she were some whore, bedecked not with gems but with statues and temples?”22 The word “whore” was a personal insult to Pericles, an intensely private man whose divorce of his wife and longstanding affair with the foreign-born Aspasia were subjects of considerable public gossip.
Plutarch, Pericles 12.
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