I was passing through the Met's Greek and Roman section. Rooms filled with dingy white marble labeled with placards informing the masses of their history, of their importance to humanity, of why we should be awed to stand before them.
A standard (and rather non-attracting) slab of marble was edged up against a wall. There were grander pieces near it: a tall urn with specks of original coloring, a giant memorial for a dead king, a piece of ancient jewlery. This slab, about three feet across with no discernible pictures, most had not made the journey to this place and time, was emblazoned with some text. Text I could not read. It was readable, clear and sharp carvings despite being millennia old.
The placard told us it said:
"On the death of Chairedemos, his father Amphichares erected this monument on grieving a good son. Phaidimos made it."
The poetry in the words is lacking. Perhaps lost in translation, perhaps lost because of the eons of time separating us but regardless a man lost his son, a good son, and lamented this fact and built a monument. A monument that not only proves Amphichares was rich enough to make this memorial, but that he loved his good son enough to immortalize him and his emotions (and that fact he was "good" in stone.
I'm certain that Amphichares and Phaidimos (both since long dead) had no idea that 3,000 years later anyone, much less someone who is a resident of a land not even discovered at the time, would look at this and feel moved. But I suppose, that was the point of Amphichares' desire to make this. To create something that will be remembered eternally (if possible) like he will remember his son for the rest of his mortal life. So that someone else can understand or feel that pain that he did when he lost his son. Auden wrote (about death):
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Perhaps Amphichares would have shared these words with us in his own time, but his lack of poetry or ability to betray his emotions or dignity kept him from it. So instead he tells us, "Here lies a good son." Honorable words enough.
