In his celebrated “history” poems, the modern Greek poet Constantine Cavafy drew heavily on Hellenistic Age (330-30 BCE), making references to rulers and events in a time largely unknown or forgotten in the Western imagination. The reason is an obvious one: the era is bracketed by the brief but extraordinary exploits of Alexander the Great on one side; and Rome’s final triumph on the other, with the defeat of Mark Antony and Cleopatra at the battle of Actium.
From Cavafy, I found my way to Peter Green’s short book, a distillation of his definitive history, From Alexander to Actium. It is brief but dense: the number of royal conspiracies, sibling murders, incestuous marriages, and phalanx battles packed into a single paragraph can be staggering. How many rulers, aspiring and actual, were named Antiochus? At least thirteen by my count —followed by innumerable warlords and generals named Alexander, Antigonus, Demetrius, and Seleucus. Among the women: many many Cleopatras, some of whom became what Green calls “sister-wives” to kings in Ptolemaic Egypt.
The era begins, of course, with the ragged division of Alexander the Great’s European and Asian empires after his death. With the passing of Alexander’s generals — the “Successors” — a rough tripartite division took place, with the Antigonid dynasty ruling Macedonia and Greece, the Ptolemies in Egypt, and the Seleucids based largely in Baghdad.
But the entire system was unstable and subject to dynastic infighting as well as constant warfare and invasions. First, the restive Greek city states, such as Athens and Thebes, never reconciled themselves to Macedonian rule, and rebelled at regular intervals. More often than not, the Macedonians retaliated by sacking the rebel cities. The Ptolemies and Seleucids fought constantly over territories in Asia Minor and present-day Syria. Everyone seems to have conquered or contested Mediterranean islands like Crete.
Enter Rome, the rising “barbarian” power from the west that, by the second and first centuries BCE, used diplomacy, threats, and conquest to turn the Greek kingdoms into pliant client states, and eventually, Roman provinces. At several climatic battles such as Pydna in 168 BCE, as Green points out, the Roman legion prevailed over the Macedonian phalanx. The last to fall was Cleopatra’s Egypt in 30 BCE.
Yet Greek art and philosophy enjoyed unprecedented prestige, albeit enveloped in a haze of nostalgia for the golden era of Periclean Athens in the distant 5th century. Greek thought may have flourished under Roman tutelage, but Rome also looted Greek ceramics, painting, and sculptures in massive numbers and shipped them to Italy, where they graced the villas of Greece’s conquerors.
Culturally, Green depicts the Hellenistic Age as a profoundly conservative one, lacking any energy to innovate technologically or artistically — with the exception of such purely aristocratic activities as philosophy and theoretical mathematics. There were several reasons for this. One is the pervasiveness of slavery, which provided the raw energy to run the ancient world. Constant warfare ensured a steady supply of slaves and wealth to be earned from slave trading. The idea of “labor-saving” devices would have been bizarre, even threatening.
The veneration of all things Greek meant a society that in many respects looked backward and not forward. Finally, the instability and threat of warfare meant a search for security and protection, not an impulse to innovate or explore. Of course, profound change did come to the region, notably in the dispersal of Greek culture and language among non-Greek peoples in Asia Minor and the Middle East. Perhaps the greatest single cultural accomplishment of the time was the founding of the city of Alexandria and its legendary library.
Still, for those who enjoy history’s arcane and exotic pathways, the exploration of the classical world’s Hellenistic Age can be highly rewarding, especially with the poems of Cavafy as your guide — and Peter Green for fact checking and sorting out all those rulers named Antiochus.