A Spartan Philosopher: Chilon the Wise

It may surprise many modern readers that Plato, writing a history of philosophy in the 4th Century BC, claimed that all early philosophers were “imitators, lovers and disciples of Spartan education.”  Furthermore, the seven “wise men” that Plato considered the fathers of philosophy included two Lacedaemonians, one of which was Spartiate: Chilon the Wise. In the 5th century BC, it had become common to speak about “seven” wise men, whose selection varied from writer to writer so that a total of 17 are actually named on one list or another.  

Significantly, Chilon is always among the seven.

So just who was Chilon of Sparta?

Based on the stories told about Chilon, which include personally meeting the famous writer of fables, Aesop, and Hippokrates, the father of the Athenian tyrant Peisistratos, historians conclude that Chilon lived in the first half of the 6th century BC, or – one might say – in the Golden Age of Sparta.  Furthermore, he is said to have been an ephor during the 56. Olympiad, or between 556 and 554 BC, by which time, the sources say, he was “very old.” Modern historians such as Conrad Stibbe suggest he was somewhere between 60 and 75 when he was elected ephor in ca. 555 BC.

Chilon was a Spartiate, but apparently not from a “leading” or royal family. The fact that his descendants married into both royal houses, however, is an indication of just how highly he was regarded by his contemporaries and admired by subsequent generations of Spartans.  Particularly significant is the fact that a great-granddaughter of Chilon was selected by a later college of ephors as the bride for the then childless Agiad King Anaxandridas.  Anaxandridas had been married for many years to his niece, who appeared to be barren, and the ephors after futilely urging the king to set aside his wife and take a new wife, convinced him to take a second wife.  This wife (who is nameless in Herodotus) promptly became pregnant and gave birth to a male child, who later became one of Sparta’s most controversial kings, King Cleomenes I.  What is striking about this particular marriage is less that the college of ephors would put forward the name of a girl descended from one of their own predecessors, than that Anaxandridas, who would have been a reigning king at the time Chilon was an ephor, would accept one of Chilon's descendents as a worthy bride. The importance of this fact is best understood when we remember that Chilon is credited by ancient and modern historians with raising the status of the ephorate to a body almost as powerful as the kings. 

In any case, Conrad Stibbe in his excellent work on archaic Sparta, Das Andere Sparta (Mainz: 1996), credits Chilon with conceiving of the Peloponnesian League.  As he points out, throughout Sparta’s previous history, complete subjugation of a conquered people followed successful Spartan conquests. This was true for the conquest of the heartland of Lacedaemon, the Eurotas Valley in the ninth century and for the conquest of Messenia in the second half of the seventh century.

 Yet after a bitter war with Tegea during the first half of the sixth century BC, in which Sparta suffered at least one humiliating defeat resulting in the enslavement of Spartiate hoplites, Sparta chose a different path. Following a decisive victory over Tegea under the leadership of King Anaxandridas, Sparta made the revolutionary decision not to subjugate and occupy Tegea, but rather to form a defensive alliance with its defeated foe. This course was unprecedented in Greek history at the time. (Note: My novel The Olympic Charioteer deals with this period of Spartan history.)  Furthermore, the alliance with Tegea was not a one-off event, but rather signaled a completely new Spartan foreign policy that was pursued throughout the rest of the century. Under both Anaxandridas and his sons, Sparta built up her power and prestige not through direct conquest but through the formation of a system of alliances, first on the Peloponnese (under Anaxandridas and Cleomenes) and with all of Hellas under Leonidas.

Yet while Chilon sought peace and alliances with Sparta’s democratic neighbors, he was according to ancient tradition together with Anaxandridas the driving force behind a series of military actions undertaken by Sparta to depose tyrants in Sikyon, Samos, and Athens. The fact that Chilon and Anaxandridas are mentioned as working together to depose the tyrants is significant because it suggests a joint policy – something that makes the later marriage of Anaxandridas to a great-granddaughter of Chilon more understandable. 

Interestingly, Chilon is described in Herodotus as a seer and Chilon’s first act of extraordinary wisdom was advice that, had it been followed, would have spared Athens the tyranny of Peisistratos in the first place.  Chilon’s wisdom was thus associated with Sparta’s opposition to tyranny.  According to legend, when the father of Peisistratos, Hippokrates, was in Olympia, he received a sign from the Gods.  A cauldron full of sacrificial meat boiled over without a fire being lit under it.  Although Hippokrates recognized that this could only be a message from the gods, he could not interpret it, and turned to Chilon for advice.  Chilon told him not to marry and if he was already married to disown any son he already had.

 

The Spartan Chilon was according to ancient tradition also a contemporary of the fable-writer Aesop.  According to legend, Chilon told the former slave that Zeus’ job was to “humiliate the mighty and rise up the humble.” While this was clearly a reference to Aesop’s own fate, it was a strikingly revolutionary statement nonetheless – heralding the Christian notion that “the meek shall inherit the earth.”

Likewise with respect to women, Chilon set revolutionary standards of behavior that were uniquely Spartan.  While the Athenian philosopher Socrates showed utter contempt for the intellect of his wife, refusing to even take leave of her after he was condemned to death, Chilon was depicted on his grave sitting side-by-side with his wife. Even more impressive, one of his daughters, Chilonis, was recognized by name as a disciple of the philosphoer Pythagoras. In short, while the Athenians contended that women were permanent children with brains incapable of developing rational thought,[i] Sparta’s greatest philosopher encouraged his daughter to study under the greatest of his contemporaries.

But it was hardly for his attitude toward women or former slaves that Chilon attained so much fame among his fellow Greeks. Rather, Chilon was admired and honored by subsequent generations of Greek philosophers and their Roman and modern admirers primarily for his “wisdom.” Chilon was the author of some 600 verses familiar to the ancients that they admired greatly. Unfortunately, none of these have survived into the present, at least none have been identified as the work of Chilon. More famous, however, were three – typically Laconic – sayings that were carved over the entrance to the Delphic oracle and attributed to Chilon. Let me close this brief essay on Chilon by quoting him.  I think many would find his advice relevant even today:

Sponsorship brings misfortune.

Nothing in excess.

Know thyself.

[i] Good sources on Athenian attitudes for women can be found in the Sarah Pomeroy’s Goddesses, Whores, Waves and Slaves, (New York: 1975), Sue Blundell’s Women in Ancient Greece, (London:1995) and in the chapter on “Citizen Women in Athens,” in Anton Powell’s Athens and Sparta: Constructing Greek Political and Social History from 478 BC, (Portland, Oregon: 1988).

The Road to Thermopylae - The Reformer King

Most historians confine their commentary on Leonidas to his appearance and departure from the stage of history.  His reign was, after all, quite short (ten years) and there were no known changes to Spartan territory or law, no works of art or monuments, not even any natural disasters that can be dated specifically to the reign of Leonidas.  It is therefore presumptuous of me to label Leonidas a “reformer king.” I know that.

Now that I have your attention….

Looking at Spartan history from the Messenian War to Sparta’s dismal and ignominious end under Rome, the reign of Leonidas represents in many ways a turning point. In crude terms, the archaic age extended from the mid-eight century to the end of the 6^th century  BC. The classical age followed. Thus Leonidas’ reign fell at the transition.

In Sparta, it is exactly that transition that represents a particularly sharp and significant break in Sparta’s development.  The history of Sparta as a distinct city-state coincides with the dawn of the archaic period and the Messenian War(s). The latter sparked unrest leading to massive reforms embodied in Sparta’s unique laws. 

Archaic Sparta saw not only the establishment of this new, revolutionary form of government (arguably the first democracy in history), but also a significant flourishing of the arts and trade. Sparta’s most significant monuments (e.g. the Menelaion, the Amyklaion) were constructed in the archaic period. Sparta’s most famous poets – Tyrtaios, Alkman – lived and worked in the archaic age. Spartiate  sculptors produced works for Olympia, while Sparta's pottery was in international demand and exported throughout the 6^th century.  Sparta’s archaic bronze works were even more outstanding and competitive, reaching a peak in quality and creativity in the early 6^th century.  Not least important, Sparta’s two most admired statesmen in the ancient world, Lycurgus and Chilon, both lived in the archaic period. While many doubt that Lycurgus was a real person and prefer to see him as a mere legend, Chilon was certainly real, and counted as one of the ancient world’s “wise men.”

Sparta in the classical period in contrast is characterized by artistic stagnation and such a dramatic end to Sparta’s competitiveness in trade and manufacturing that those who study only classical and Hellenistic Sparta are completely unaware of Sparta’s impressive earlier accomplishments. Indeed, based on descriptions of the Spartan state and constitution written at the end of the fifth century and later, Sparta appears to have become a city-state that disdained luxury and by inference art itself.  Certainly Sparta’s exports of finished products declined, and a sharp drop in the number of artifacts from this period have been found at the sites of Spartan temples. This may indicate that domestic production was also severely restricted. (Alternatively, younger layers of deposits were lost due to flooding, earthquakes etc.)

Assuming the existing archeological record and the written depictions of Spartan society more-or-less accurately describe classical and later Spartan society, then Sparta underwent a radical, indeed revolutionary, change in the mid-5^th century.  The question is why?

There are a number of possible answers: A) the Persian Wars, B) the Great Earthquake of 465 and subsequent population decline, C) a Helot Revolt; D) the bitter war with Athens, and E) All of the Above.

So, what does this have to do with Leonidas?  My thesis is that Leonidas was the last of the archaic kings not just in terms of timing but in terms of policy. Sparta obtained its reputation for opposing tyrants and built up the Peloponnesian League in the second half of the 6^th century during the reigns of Leonidas’ two predecessors, his father and half-brother.  These policies reflect on the one hand an interest in world affairs, and on the other a willingness to negotiate and compromise rather than rely on brute force.

The evidence for Leonidas’ cosmopolitanism is first and foremost his election to lead the coalition of Greek states that opposed the Persian invasion of 480. This fact has far too often been interpreted simply as a tribute to Sparta’s position as the leading Greek power of the age.  This ignores the fact that just two years after Leonidas’ death, the same coalition of forces preferred Athenian leadership to submitting to command by Leonidas’ successor Pausanias ― and Pausanias had just led the coalition to a spectacular victory at Plataea! Sparta was not less powerful in 478 than she had been in 480, and her reputation in arms was greater. If simply being Spartan was all that mattered to the allies, then the coalition would have asked Sparta to send King Leotychias or another Spartan general to replace Pausanias, but it did not. Just as Pausasias was not elected in 478, Leonidas was elected in 480, not because he was Spartan but because of who he was.  In 481, Leonidas personally enjoyed the trust of the coalition partners.

Leonidas probably gained that trust through personal contact, and that suggests a degree of travel within the Greek world. He probably attended the pan-Hellenic games regularly, for example. (Other Spartan kings of his age were competitors.) He may also have met leaders from other cities in Sparta itself, if they came to see the Gymopaedia or Hyacinthia, for example.  However, Gorgo allegedly made her famous statement about why Spartan women “rule” their men to a woman from Attica. Since Athenian women weren’t supposed to set foot out of their home let alone outside their city, it is far more likely that the exchange, if it occurred at all, took place in Attica than Lacedaemon. The most logical explanation would be that Gorgo traveled with Leonidas to Athens at some point in his reign. As the Persian threat grew, it would have been very logical to find Leonidas garnering support for a united stand against the invaders by traveling to all major Greek cities, first and foremost Athens, but also Thebes and Corinth.  

During Leonidas’ lifetime, Sparta not only took an active interest in world affairs and exported significant works of art (sculpture, bronze, pottery) overseas, it also commanded respectable naval resources. In the reign of Leonidas’ father, Sparta undertook an expedition against Samos and his half-brother launched a seaborne attack against Attica. The significance of a navy is that it required loyal oarsmen. Rowing a warship is notoriously back-breaking, tedious, stinking work. It was so unpleasant that it was a form of punishment in later centuries and criminals would be condemned to “the galleys.” Slaves, chained to the oar-banks, is an image we carry around with us from films like “Ben Hur.” In fact, however, in the ancient world, particularly in ancient Greece, the crews of warships were predominantly citizens.  This was because no city could afford to entrust the maneuverability and speed of their fighting ships to anyone who did not have a stake in the outcome of an engagement.

The most probable source of competent seamen was the perioikoi residents of Lacedaemon. Perioikoi towns, unlike land-locked Sparta, were often located on the coast (Epidauros Limera, Boiai, Kardamyle, Asine, Pylos, and, of course, Gytheon, to name only a few.) On the other hand, the perioikoi element at Plataea equaled Sparta’s, suggesting that the perioikoi elite did not greatly outnumber the Spartiates themselves. Another source of seamen would have been helots, but if helots were as oppressed and hostile to Sparta as most historians claim, then it would have been suicidal to entrust the oars of naval ships to helot oarsmen.

On the other hand, if conditions for helots were not as consistently severe as generally presumed, then there might have been at least some loyal helots.  Possibly special incentives in the form of emancipation or increased status were offered to helots who served in Sparta’s fledgling navy, or, alternatively, conditions for helots were generally improving throughout the later part of the 6^th century when Sparta was evidently enjoying a period of prosperity and comparative peace.  The very fact that the Spartans could take 35,000 helot auxiliaries with them to Plataea suggests widespread support among the helot population. (Suggestions that the Spartans took 35,000 rebellious helots with them when marching out to face the undefeated Persian army are ludicrous.) In short, in 480 BC Sparta had a fleet of at least 16 triremes requiring almost 3,000 oarsmen and 35,000 light troops, all of whom were deemed loyal to the Spartan state. Sparta was putting her future in the hands of these helots.

But roughly one decade later the only recorded helot revolt against Sparta erupted.  This is highly significant because we know that revolutions occur neither when people are content nor when they are most oppressed or exploited.  Uprisings are most likely to occur when a long period of rising living standards and political expectations is abruptly ended by economic or political crisis. My hypothesis is that during Cleomenes’ reign helots had enjoyed a slow but steady increase in living standards, something that accelerated under Leonidas when that economic prosperity was combined with rising political expectations. In the post-Leonidas era, however, these hopes and expectations were abruptly shattered, leading to the explosive situation that culminated in the revolt.

Leonidas was undoubtedly the last of the archaic kings. Sparta’s archaic age saw the foundation and development of Sparta’s political system, flanked by a highly sophisticated foreign policy and the evolution of a powerful alliance system.   Archaic Sparta witnessed the blossoming of artistic and musical accomplishment, the growth of trade in finished products with a wider world, and the growth of naval capability. The archaic was Sparta’s golden age. Would it have continued if Leonidas and his closest companions had not died at Thermopylae? Probably not indefinitely, but possibly the helot revolt that led to intense paranoia in the later 5^th century could have been avoided. Likewise, if Leonidas had still lived, neither Pausanias nor Leotychidas would have been given a chance to turn Sparta’s allies into enemies.  
 

Leonidas' reign is the focus of the early part of "A Heroic King".

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Fractious Allies - An Excerpt from "A Heroic King"

At the start of the month, I pointed out that Leonidas had to be a savvy diplomat to have forged the anti-Persian alliance of 480 BC -- and retained the cooperation of the bickering members. This excerpt from "A Heroic King" attempts to provide an inkling of the divisions in the coalition.

The guardsmen made way for him, and he found himself facing five men: the representatives from Mycenae, Tiryns, Aegina, Troizen, and Thespiae. The sight of Demophilus drew a smile from Leonidas. “Demophilus! When did you get here?” He embraced the Thespian before acknowledging the rest.

Demophilus held Leonidas’ arm and looked him hard in the eye. “I came as fast as I could. We heard about your oracle.'”

 “'Yes, and what of your own?”

“Send your children and your wives to the halls of Fair Helen, for the Muses have fled before the horns of Hektor’s avengers and the harvest of Helicon will soothe the wounds of Perseus’ sons, even as the lions of Thespiae live forever beside the Divine Twins.”

“Your wives and children are welcome. Spartiate families will each host a family of Thespians, and your children will play with ours on the banks of the Eurotas. We, my brother, will pit our strength against the bulls of Persia with the courage of lions.”

“And what of us?” the Aeginan asked indignantly. “Will you abandon us?”

“Of course not! Why would we?” Leonidas asked back. “Our position at Thermopylae and Artemisium provides as much protection to Aegina, Mycenae, and Tiryns as to Thespiae.”

“The position, yes, but not the command!” the Aeginan retorted hotly. “We will not fight under the Athenians. Athens, with their brand-new fleet manned by amateurs, has no right to command the rest of us. Indeed, they do not even have enough men to man their fleet. They have asked Chalcis to provide oarsmen for twenty of their triremes and have requested the poor of Plataea to bring up to strength the crews of the rest of their fleet. Put an Athenian in command of the fleet, and you don’t know where it will end up―maybe plundering Aegina before continuing on to take Kythera, or simply running away to Sicily like the oracle told them to do!”

Leonidas was shocked by two facts: the bitterness of Aegina’s opposition to Athenian leadership, and the fact that his casual assurance to Themistocles about Sparta not claiming naval command was already known. “And what does Corinth say?” he asked, starting back toward the theater and forcing the others to accompany him in an agitated group, trailed by his guardsmen.

“Corinth is as outraged as we are!” the Aeginan assured Leonidas.

This sounded too self-serving to be accepted at face value―except that the other men were nodding, including Demophilus.

“Megara is outraged, too,” the Mycenaean added. “They have threatened to withdraw from the coalition altogether if Athens is given command of the naval forces.”

“And Troizen agrees,” the Troizen representative asserted emphatically.

“How many ships do these cities represent?” Alkander asked.

“Megara and Aegina have twenty triremes each, and Troizen five; Corinth has forty. Together it’s nearly a hundred.”

“Would Aegina accept Corinthian command?” Leonidas asked the Aeginan.

“Adeimantus? No. He’s a tile-maker, not an admiral. Put him in command and the whole fleet will soon be cowering behind the Isthmus.”

That had been Leonidas’ impression, too, but it was one opinion he would have preferred not to have confirmed. Why couldn’t the Corinthians have given their command to the experienced and unshakable Erxander? How could they let internal rivalries get in the way of sound military decisions? As it was, the second-largest contingent of ships was commanded by a man who was only partially committed to the fight. A stand at Thermopylae would be totally pointless unless the Greek fleet held the Persian ships at Artemisium. If the fleet failed, the Persians would simply bypass Thermopylae and land their troops somewhere south of the Hot Gates.

“Who, then?” Leonidas asked the Aeginan. They were rapidly approaching the theater, where a a lively debate was evidently in progress―at least, there were a large number of catcalls, boos, and hisses being hurled at the speaker.

“Sparta, of course,” the Aeginan answered without hesitation.

“Sparta’s fleet is also young―and much smaller than Athens’.”

“Not as young as Athens’, and you did not build it with the declared intention of crushing us!” the Aeginan reminded Leonidas.

Although Leonidas personally believed that crushing Aegina had only been a pretext to convince the Athenian Assembly to build the fleet, he could not deny that Themistocles had argued his case by promising the humiliation of Aegina.

“We will not accept Athenian command!” the Aeginan reiterated emphatically, seconded by his colleague, who declared, “Nor will Troizen.”

Leonidas nodded and stopped. He could see into the theater and noted that the speaker was from Kos, an island bringing just two triremes and two penteconters to the coalition. The speaker had clearly tried the patience of his audience with his long-winded defense of Athens’ claim to naval command.

Leonidas turned to the Aeginan. “Sparta will provide an admiral, if that is the wish of the majority of the coalition members that have naval assets, but we will not actively claim command at sea.” Turning to Alkander, he requested of his friend, “Please go in and tell Sperchias that. Bring me word of the decision, when there is one.”

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Mycenea - An Excerpt from "A Peerless Peer"

One of Sparta’s often overlooked diplomatic victories was prying Mycenae and Tyrens out of Argos’ sphere of influence and into her own. Little is known about this diplomatic success beyond the fact that it followed the Spartan victory at Sepeia and lasted through Leonidas’ deployment to Thermopylae. In my novel “A Peerless Peer” I provide a plausible scenario of how and why Mycenae was -- under Leonidas’ reign -- a Spartan ally.

 

Mycenae. Agamemnon’s city. It crowned a hill that nestled against the backdrop of the majestic peaks of Mount Zara and Profitis Ilias. Deep ravines encased it, and the natural slopes leading up to the sheer walls were steep and treacherous. Mycenae, “rich in gold,” was also a nearly impregnable citadel.

Of course, it was not Agamemnon’s city anymore. That had been burned and plundered and razed in the reign of Orestes’ son Tisamenus. Somewhere nearby there must be ancient graves, perhaps still filled with the treasure of Troy. But the survivors of that final catastrophe had not been many; the descendants of Agamemnon’s army had submitted to the invading Dorians and intermarried with them. This was a new city, built upon the ruins of Agamemnon’s capital some three hundred years ago, and it was neither particularly large, nor rich, [but it was an ally of Argos]…

Leonidas hadn’t a clue what form of government this obscure, secondary city had, except that it was unlikely to be a monarchy. He presumed it was also less democratic than Athens, and that made it an oligarchy of some sort. At all events, he was facing ten old men.

“You wished to speak with us, Spartan?”

“Who are you?”

“The Governing Council of Mycenae. And you?”

“I am the commanding officer of the Lacedaemonian army surrounding this city. My orders are to subdue the Argolid and render it incapable of threatening us for another generation. Those orders could be interpreted to mean I should seize and raze Mycenae.” Leonidas was watching the faces of the men opposite him very carefully. He had the impression he was not telling them anything they didn’t already know. They, too, had spies.

“So why are you here, Spartan? Do you want us to surrender our freedom without a fight?” The man who said this was trembling slightly as he spoke. Leonidas considered him. He was not trembling from fear. Possibly it was just a frailty of age—or the power of his emotions. His eyes were milky with cataracts, but he sat very straight, wrapped in a soft woolen himation with a wide border of mythical beasts in rusts and greens.

“I know little of your city, but I was told you pay homage to Argos.”

“Argos takes from us one-third of our olive-oil harvest, one-fourth of our wine, 100 head of cattle, 200 sheep, and 166 goats each year—and it led 116 of our finest young men to their deaths at Sepeia.” That did not sound like a declaration of loyalty.

“And what do you get in return?”

There was a long pause. The old man just sat with tears dripping slowly down his face, and finally one of the other men admitted, “Nothing.” The man seemed to think about it and then added, “Nothing at all.”

“You call that freedom?” Leonidas asked.

Another man spoke up, more hotly than the other two. “We still live by our own laws. We have our temples, our festivals and customs. We can sacrifice at the graves of our fathers. Our daughters go intact to their marriage beds, and our sons learn the use of spear and sword.”

“That is true in Tegea, Corinth, and Elis as well.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the hot-headed man demanded; but the older man stirred himself and hushed his younger colleague. He focused his not entirely blind eyes hard on Leonidas while explaining to his impatient colleague, “Tegea, Corinth, and Elis are allies of Lacedaemon.”

“We don’t require tribute,” Leonidas reminded him.

“Just obedience. To follow wherever your kings lead.” Yet another member of the council spoke up.

“If a majority in the League Assembly approves,” Leonidas reminded them. Leonidas was acutely aware that the changes in League leadership imposed upon his brother and characterized as “humiliating” by Leotychidas, Brotus, and others might prove decisive in avoiding bloodshed today. He pressed the point. “Your vote would be equal to ours.”

The Mycenaeans exchanged glances and then put their heads together, to whisper among themselves. One cut the others short and asked the Spartans to step out into the street while they discussed the proposal.

On the porch, Oliantus murmured, “Are you sure you have authority to offer this?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Only the ephors can sign treaties, and the Assembly has to ratify.”

“Do you think they would reject an application by Mycenae to join the League?”

“You never know what the Assembly will decide,” Oliantus warned. “Especially not when Leotychidas and his clique start their whisper campaigns!”

The Mycenaeans, however, were finished with their internal discussion and called the Spartans back inside. The spokesman asked, “Are those your terms? That we become an ally of Lacedaemon?”

“That you break with Argos and join our allies, yes,” Leonidas clarified.

The Mycenaeans again looked at one another, and then the spokesman asked, “What is your name, young man?”

“Does that matter?”

“It does. You seem very young to have so much authority, and you offer us something that seems quite unimaginable. We came here expecting demands of abject submission. We thought you would want us to hand over our daughters and humiliate ourselves in front of you. We thought you would take away our youths for your own pleasures and demand tribute that would leave us nothing at all but the naked walls of our homes.”

“You were wrong.” Leonidas insisted.

“But how can we know this is not just a trick—a way to make us let down our defenses and open our gates to your brutal troops?”

“I am Leonidas, son of Anaxandridas, brother of Cleomenes. I am a direct descendant of Herakles through my father and my mother both. My word is good. And I give it to you.” It frightened Leonidas a little to realize how much he enjoyed saying that—and it surprised him even more how effective it was.

 

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