Every third editorial written this electoral season prophesies that American decline, manifested this year (our decline is frequently predicted) in the tragicomedy of our politics, has set in for good. Depending on the ambitions of the writer, a parallel to ancient Rome is thrown in so we know we are getting good analysis. And while Rome’s decline and fall does illuminate aspects of our current situation, the democratic soul of America—in all its variations—finds a more useful antecedent in the history of its Greek forbearers. It is thus a treat to be taken advantage of when the largest exhibition of ancient Greek artifacts in a generation makes its way to Washington’s National Geographic Museum, the final stop of a four-city tour.
The Greeks: Agamemnon to Alexander the Great is an exceptional collection due in part to the extraordinary access that led to these 550 artifacts being brought together, borrowed in consultation with the directors of nearly two dozen national collections throughout Greece. As Fredrick Hiebert, Archaeology Fellow at the National Geographic Society told our group, having the best of Greece’s national patrimony concentrated in one place and unified under one theme is like visiting 22 museums in one day, while being directed to the most significant pieces of each.
Structured as a chronological progression over 5,000 years, starting in the Aegean around 3200 B.C. and ending in Macedonia around 336 B.C., one moves from room to room and epoch to epoch, witnessing, along the way, the birth (and birthing pangs) of Western civilization.
A few artifacts, in particular, stand out as worth the price of admission on their own. Most arresting are the warrior helmets from a burial site in Archontiko, Pella. These lifeless sentries, of which one only sees a collection of golden, glistening masks assembled side by side, conjure up, with a little imagination, the terrifying experience of facing down a Greek phalanx. In another room, a replica of a Greek shield, riddled with arrows (suspended from the ceiling) brings this passage from Herodotus’ to life:
Yet the Spartan Dienekes is said to have proved himself the best man of all … being informed by one of the men of Trachis that when the Barbarians discharged their arrows they obscured the light of the sun by the multitude of the arrows, so great was the number of their host, he was not dismayed by this, but making small account of the number of the Medes, he said that their guest from Trachis brought them very good news, for if the Medes obscured the light of the sun, the battle against them would be in the shade and not in the sun.
One is also treated to every variety of pot and shard imaginable, from a Linear B tablet to my personal favorite—and the finest known ancient depiction to come down to us—from Argos (670-650 B.C.), a vase depicting Odysseus’ blinding of Polyphemus in The Odyssey. It is one thing to read Homer to appreciate the philosophic continuity between the Greeks and ourselves, but to view a depiction from his work thousands of years old drives home (no pun intended) the power his narrative exerts throughout time.
Near the very end of the exhibit comes, perhaps, the nicest treats of the whole collection: Philip II’s diadem, found in his burial site. And next to this majestic crown, one is presented with the hypnotically beautiful gold myrtle crown worn by one of his seven wives, Queen Meda. Made up of hundreds of interwoven leaves and blossoms, Meda’s crest makes the Queen Mother’s headpiece look like a dime store trinket.
Children will also find something to content themselves with throughout The Greeks, if only because many of the artifacts are replicated and offered to the public for touch. There is also a delightful board game for play, which resembles Chutes and Ladders, except the goal is to help Odysseus arrive back in Ithaca—oops, you landed on angry Poseidon, move back two spaces!
If there is a flaw with The Greeks, it is this: should the visitor lack an understanding of Greek history, the brilliance of this collection will be dulled. Perhaps on account of spacing issues, there is less attention paid to the written descriptions museum-goers may be used to relying on as guideposts. This is not to say one is cast adrift, but only that some knowledge of Hellenic antiquity does much to enrich one’s experience. Usefully, National Geographic is hosting a summer of special events supporting the exhibit. There will also be a three-hour PBS series starting June 21st.
And if you hear about a Trojan Horse somewhere in Washington, it does not mean a certain orange-haired barbarian is having a meeting at RNC headquarters. More than likely, the speaker is referring to the two-story wooden structure standing in the courtyard of National Geographic advertising this summer’s Greek invasion. So come pay a visit, and bring the kids, if only because care for our democratic republic requires an understanding of its foundations; otherwise the next exhibit your great-grandchildren may attend will be titled The Americans: George Washington to Donald Trump.