John Roberts - An Academic Question

'What do you do in these parts?' I asked my guide. 'Drown the ugly ones at birth?'

'In Athens,' he said, 'we have devoted many centuries to cultivating excellence in all things.'

'Well, you've been successful in most areas,' I admitted. 'Too bad you couldn't add politics and military affairs to the lot.'

'Rome's excellence in these areas,' he said drily, 'makes up for many shortcomings.'

I deserved that. I should not have been so belittling. It just seemed unfair that any people should possess so much beauty in one small place.

My attention was drawn toward a patch of shade in a corner of the exercise yard. In an alcove formed by a half-circle of olive trees a truly spectacular youth sat playing the lyre, surrounded by admirers, most of them older men but a few about his own age.

He was fairer of hair than most Greeks, his features so perfectly cut that he could have made a living posing for sculptors as one of the better-looking gods. His physique was superb, but I could detect no scars, so the wonderfully proportioned muscles were all for show. He had never stood in the battle line and, Greek military activity being what it was by that time, was unlikely to.

Androcles caught the direction of my gaze. 'Ah, the incomparable Isaeus is here. You are lucky, Senator. He does not come here often.'

'Well, I wouldn't have made a special trip just to get a look at him but he is striking. Who are those men admiring him? Other than the usual gaggle of pederasts, I mean?'

'These are connoisseurs of art as well as of beauty. The tall man with the near-white beard is Rhoecus. He is a very rich man who sponsors plays at the great festivals. The burly man with the short brown beard is Agesander the sculptor. Some judge him to be the finest of this generation. His Diomedes and Odysseus , dedicated at Delphi by the Thebans, is wonderful to behold. The bald one is Neacles, famed teacher of the lyre. Isaeus is his student.'

'Teaches him for free, I'll bet. Who are the younger ones?' I cannot say why I was so curious, except that this scene, civilised as it was, was so far from anything you could expect to encounter in Rome.

'That superb one, only slightly less beautiful than Isaeus himself, is Melanthus, his rival in almost everything. They are close companions, despite the fact that Melanthus comes in second in everything.' This youth, perhaps a year or two older than Isaeus, had features as fine and a body as perfect, but his hair was dark and his complexion a commonplace olive. In truth he was no less handsome than his friend, just less striking.

'The younger boy is Amyntas, the son of Rhoecus, a very promising athlete who displays poetic talent as well.' This lad had curly brown hair and an agreeable, snub-nosed face. He displayed some dark down on his chin and upper lip, but was a year or so from his first shave.

'The rest, young and old, are simply admirers, people of taste but no reputation.' And every damned one of them, of whatever age or station, was mooning over that boy like Paris panting over Helen. Well, they were Greeks.

'Would you like to meet him?' Androcles asked.

'Decidedly,' I said, 'just so I can brag about it when I get back home.'

Isaeus paused in his song at our approach. His eyes widened to take in my plain woollen tunic with its senator's stripe, the military boots and belt that proclaimed my warlike status, and last of all my typically Roman face with its numerous scars and long, Metellan nose. To his credit, he did not recoil in horror.

'Isaeus, gentlemen,' Androcles proclaimed, 'allow me to introduce a distinguished visitor. This is the noble Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, lately Urban Aedile of Rome, now on his way to Cyprus to crush the pirates in the eastern sea.' One by one they were introduced, took my hand and murmured polite inanities.

We Romans are quite aware that nobody loves us. Greeks, in particular, have had to swallow a lot of pride in bending their necks to the Roman yoke. But the better educated among them, like those men present upon this occasion, knew perfectly well that they were hopelessly inept at managing their own affairs, and that the Roman hand rested very lightly on Greece. We put down their seditions gently, taxed them lightly, and spent great sums repairing and adorning their cities and shrines after we'd looted them in the first place. Only Corinth suffered greatly. We had to make an example of somebody. Nobody ever did as much damage to the Greeks as their fellow Greeks anyway.

So these men were probably not faking extravagantly in proclaiming their pleasure in meeting me.

'Senator,' Rhoecus said, 'you do us honour. Will you honour me further by taking dinner at my house tonight?'

'The honour will be mine,' I told him, having no graceful way out. I knew all too well the austerity of Greek dining habits. However, I might one day find myself governing Athens and it is always good to have the rich men on your side. It makes the job so much easier. Rhoecus extended his invitation to all those present and all accepted, although Isaeus seemed as reluctant as I.

I turned to the sculptor. 'Agesander, you are famed everywhere I go. On Rhodes I saw your superb Aphrodite and Eros , and in Syracuse I was taken to see your Dionysus Dancing before I was allowed to see anything else. It is the pride of the city.'

He inclined his head graciously. 'The Muses have guided my hands. But those were early works. I hope that the group I am now completing will surpass all my earlier efforts.'

'What might this project be?' I asked him.

'He's sculpting Achilles and Patroclus !' Amyntas cried. 'With Isaeus and Melanthus as his models!' This earned the boy some stern looks. Well-bred Greek boys are not supposed to intrude upon the conversations of their elders unless invited. Amyntas gazed upon Isaeus with adoration.

'A wonderful subject,' I commended. 'And I cannot imagine two finer models for the roles.' No harm in laying on a little flattery, I thought. 'Will this group be in marble as at Rhodes, or in bronze as at Syracuse?'

'I am portraying the heroes in marble,' he said, 'nude, of course, as is the convention in heroic sculpture, and only lightly tinted. The helmets and shields are being executed in bronze to my design and cast by Melanippus, who performs all my bronze casting. The armour of Achilles, of course, was the work of a god, and I hope I will be forgiven if the quality of my shield falls a trifle short of that divine standard.'

'But,' I said, 'the armour of Achilles was not made by Vulcan – Hephaestus, I should say, until Patroclus was dead.'

'Quite perceptive,' the sculptor said. 'In fact, the title of the group is Achilles and Patroclus reunited in the Fields of Elysium . I could not resist having a try at sculpting that shield as it is described in the Iliad .' He looked about him. 'I always picture Elysium looking rather like the Academy.'

'It is an incomparable place,' I agreed. 'Agesander, would it be too great an imposition to ask to see this sculpture? I know many artists are touchy and never allow anyone to see a work in progress, but I must return to my ships tomorrow and I may never get to Miletus.'

He smiled amiably. 'By all means. I love nothing more than seeing the stone and metal take shape beneath my hands and I would not deny others this pleasure. As it occurs, all is finished except for some details of the pedestal and the bronze work. It would please me if all of you would come to my studio and tell me what you think.'

I would never pose as a connoisseur, and my grasp of other aspects of Greek culture is dismally low, but I have a lifelong love for fine sculpture and this offer alone made the trip to Athens worthwhile.

The younger men donned their clothes, which didn't amount to much – just brief chitons draped from one shoulder and concealing nothing. It was interesting to see the three of them move. Even in the simple act of rising and dressing, I could see that Isaeus had the perfect poise of a dancer, Melanthus the feral grace of a warrior, and Amyntas the springy co-ordination of an athlete.