CHAPTER II
That which I am going to relate to you took place in the year in which Plato died. I was then in Halicarnassus engaged upon my part of the labour that was to produce at last the great tomb of King Mausolus the Long-haired. It was a thankless task if ever there was one. Scopas, who directed all of us, had decided to decorate the whole of the eastern front of the monument himself, so that from the early morning sunrise when they made the sacrifices the marbles of our master were resplendent in the full light and, truly, people saw little of the other work.
To his comrade of the chisel, Timotheus, he had given the lateral face of the monument, south; less interesting and more extended. Leochares was entrusted with the western front. As for me, I had taken that side others had not wished for—the northern, an enormous piece of work perpetually in the shadow.
(Pithis was also employed in raising a pyramid over this stately monument and the top was adorned by a chariot harnessed to four horses. The expenses of this edifice were immense, and this gave an occasion to the philosopher Anaxagoras to exclaim when he saw it: “How much money changed into stones!”)
During five years I sculptured Victories and Amazons that looked, in the sun, like living women; but each time it became necessary for me to fix one for ever in the shadow of the monument it seemed to me that the look of life died out of the stone form, and then my tears came. At last my task came to an end. I occupied myself with preparations for returning into Attica. In that year, as to-day, the Ægean Sea was not very safe. War everywhere and strife between one city and another. Athens besides was vanquished. The day upon which I wished to take my departure I could not find a ship-master, or owner of a privateer, who had any desire to go to the Piræus. The people of Caria, good dealers, turned towards the vanquisher, and from the time that the taking of Olynthus had let Chalcis fall into the hands of the Macedonians, all the merchants of Halicarnassus filled out their sails for Eubœa in order to sell there silken robes of Cos to the courtesans of Cnidus, where Venus was the chief deity.
I also departed for Chalcis. The voyage by sea was unpleasant to me. I was not treated well even in the little corner of the vessel that I professed to be satisfied with. My name in those days had not the same sound and fame as it has to-day and the great monument to Mausolus was too new and too near to men’s minds. The other voyagers upon the ship contented themselves with knowing that I was a citizen of Athens. That quite sufficed and they mocked, for Athens then was an unfortunate city. One morning when the sun was high we landed at Chalcis in the midst of an immense crowd in which I lost myself, and with pleasure. In questioning some one I learnt that there was outside the gates an extraordinary market. Philip, at the fall of Olynthus after having destroyed the city had led into captivity and slavery the whole of the population.
There were about forty-five thousand people. The slave-market to dispose of these had been on about two days and might last for three months. Also the city was thronged, full of strangers—purchasers and people suffering from curiosity. My interlocutor who was a dealer in wines did not complain, but he confided to me that his neighbour who sold slaves as a rule very dear was ruined. I heard the tavern-keeper say with many gestures: “Consider, a Thracian of twenty years of age one knows what he is worth, by all the Gods. When one has bought twelve to cultivate land one counts twelve bags of gold. Now mark the price, it has fallen to fifty drachmas. Judge of the others by that only. Such a thing has never been heard of. There are three thousand virgins for sale. They will go for twenty-five drachmas apiece, and please do not think that I speak rashly on the subject. Perhaps a few drachmas more may be got for those of the whitest skins. Ah! Philip is a great king indeed!”
This man wearied me and I separated from him and followed the multitude beyond the open gates of the city to the vast stretch of country where the Olynthians were camped. With great pains I wore myself a way through the many groups in movement. Suddenly I saw pass near me a procession that was extravagant and majestical. Before it the crowds parted to left and right.
Six Sarmatian slaves advanced in pairs, armed. Behind them a little Ethiopian held horizontally a long cross of cedar decorated with gold. It was the stick of the Master. Finally, gigantic and heavy, crowned with flowers, the beard impregnated with perfumes and clad in an enormous purple robe, I saw Parrhasius himself. He walked as though he scorned and spurned the earth beneath his feet. Each arm was around the shoulders of a beautiful girl. He was like the Indian Bacchus.