The Idea of Marathon

Battle and Culture

Sonya Nevin

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2022
• ISBN:
  9781350157606
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Greek Ancient History
• Index: History

The Battle of Marathon changed the course of history in ancient Greece. To many, the impossible seemed to have been achieved - the mighty Persian Empire halted in its advance. What happened that day, why was the battle fought, and how did people make sense of it? This bold new history of the battle examines how the conflict unfolded and the ideas attached to it in antiquity and beyond. Many thought the battle offered lessons in how people should behave, with heroism to be emulated and faults to be avoided. While the battle itself was fought in one day, the battle for the idea of Marathon has lasted ever since. After immersing you in the battle, this work will help you to explore how the ancient Athenians used the battle in their relations between themselves and others, and how the battle continued to be used to express ideas about gods, empire, and morality in the age of Alexander and his successors, at Rome and in Greece under the Roman Empire, and in the ages after antiquity, even in our own era, in which Marathon plays a remarkable role in sport, film, and children's literature with each retelling a re-imagining of the battle and its meaning. A clash of weapons, gods, and principles, this is Marathon as you've never seen it before!

1

Athenians at a Turning Point

Athens before the Graeco-Persian Wars

The victory at Marathon boosted the Athenians’ confidence in their new system of government – democracy. What had been happening in Athens before the battle? How did the battle come about? Like most city-states in the Greek world, Athens had been run for centuries by an oligarchy of leading families. These elite families dominated virtually all aspects of society, owning much of the land and holding appointments in law, religion and civic decision-making. Birth and wealth determined eligibility for numerous senior posts such as the archonships and membership of the powerful Council of the Areopagus. Freedom from manual labour created opportunities for the elite to focus on public life. Members of aristocratic families tended to inter-marry with each other and with the elite of other city-states, a practice which extended their networks of influence and which maintained a degree of difference from poorer members of their own communities.

There was a certain glamour attached to these power-broker families – the Alcmaeonids, the Cimonids, the Philaids, the Ceryces, the Praxiergidai, the Peisistratids and more. They often claimed descent from mythical heroes and they could wow people with displays born of their wealth and with possibilities of favour. This system had its positives, but it frequently ran into problems. While its ideal form had the most capable people working together for the good of the city, its worst meant wrangling for power between those who selfishly looked not to the city’s good but to their own short-term gain. No wonder elite men occasionally pushed themselves forward hoping to set the agenda and cut out the arguments. And no wonder the people of cities run in this way frequently hoped someone might offer decisive leadership that put the city first. Enter Peisistratus.

Where many had tried and failed, Peisistratus established himself as sole ruler, tyrant, of Athens. For almost twenty years, Peisistratus steered the ship of state alone but for the advice of his sons and his guiding goddess, Athena. Athens prospered and the people, the demos, benefited from reforms in law and land ownership. Building projects provided employment, brought amenities and beautified the city. Athenian rule of Sigeum at the Hellespont was re-established. Festivals were enhanced. This is the era in which drama was developing as a new art-form, emerging from choral singing. Athenian pottery was in demand all over the Mediterranean. Philosophers were finding new ways to ask questions and find answers. It was an exciting time to be in Athens.

‘Tyrant’ was not a dirty word then. To be a tyrannos was simply to be a sole ruler outside a framework of royalty and kingship. Many had done it in other Greek states. Some had done so successfully, bringing a welcome cohesion to their city’s affairs. Welcome to some that is. While members of the wealthy families might cooperate with a tyrant in order to avoid clashing head-on, that did not mean that they would not look for ways to regain power. At Athens, Peisistratus exiled Cimon, son of Stesagoras, from the great house of the Cimonids. Cimon’s uncle, Miltiades, had been ‘encouraged’ to leave Athens and go as tyrant to the Chersonese.¹ It is likely that Cimon was expelled for showing dissatisfaction with Peisistratus’ rule. It has been suggested that he was a little too ostentatious in his devotion to chariot-racing – an aristocratic pastime which won the sort of popularity that tyrants jealously guarded.² While in exile, Cimon’s team won the chariot-race at the Olympic Games and he declared it Peisistratus’ victory. Peisistratus was charmed by this display of good will and Cimon was allowed to return home. It was a tricky balancing act for all of them.

When the politically astute Peisistratus died, his sons, Hippias and Hipparchus, succeeded. They were well-schooled in the ways of the city and they must have known that there were those who longed to see them fall. Some men were killed or encouraged to leave. One family, the Alcmaeonids, were expelled en masse, though they never stopped looking for ways to return. Cimon’s victory had charmed Peisistratus, but his offences still rankled with the sons, who had him murdered. Cimon’s son, another Miltiades, served as archon under the Peisistratids, but it must have been easier all round when he too left Athens to join the family firm in the Chersonese. For about seventeen years the brothers ruled without incident, but in the sort of episode that came to give tyrants a bad name, things began to unravel. The story is known largely from the Greek historian, Thucydides.³

Each year the citizens of Athens honoured their protector, Athena, with a great festival, the Panathenaea. The most striking feature of the festival was a procession through the city and up to the acropolis, the site of the goddess’ sanctuaries. Crowds gathered to watch. The city as represented through its people was on display: people of both sexes, all ages, citizens and resident non-Athenians. Each had specific roles. Some carried baskets, jugs or instruments of sacrifice, others led animals to the altar. Riders displayed their horses and skill. Ensuring that these sorts of public ritual roles were taken by members of distinguished families provided a pressure release. They could display themselves and relish the prestige of being included – still eminent in a city where they were no longer preeminent.

How ill-timed then, that in 514, Hipparchus used this as an opportunity for score-settling. Used to getting his own way, Hipparchus took it badly when a young man of good family turned down his advances. Harmodius already had a lover. Harmodius and Aristogeiton were about to become as famous a couple as can be imagined. A handsome young man might have more than one lover in his youth, but whether for personal or political reasons, Harmodius refused to leave Aristogeiton for the more powerful Hipparchus. Incensed, Hipparchus saw to it that Harmodius’ younger sister was disinvited from the procession. It was a colossal insult to the family. It implied that the girl was sullied in a way that would mean her participation would sully the city. Few would hear of it without assuming that she had been sexually active outside marriage, a taboo likely to prevent her from ever marrying and which would shame her relatives. There was shame in the implied accusation and shame in the exclusion from what should have been a prestigious occasion. In a society where honour was paramount, this was a hard blow. There was no cultural imperative to ‘turn the other cheek’; on the contrary, there was an imperative to defend one’s friends and harm one’s enemies. Aristogeiton stood by his lover. On the day of the Panathenaea the two men struck Hipparchus down, stabbing him to death amidst the gorgeous trappings of the festival.

Harmodius was killed on the spot. Aristogeiton died later under torture. Hippias grew harsher after his brother’s death. There were executions.⁴ But if Hippias grew more wary, so did the people of Athens. No elite families could feel safe. They had seen with concern how leading figures might be murdered or exiled without recourse to their peers, just as Cimon had been cut down. Murder, confiscation of property, exile, public shaming – all of these were anathema to the Athenian elite. As Hippias tightened his grip, he lost control altogether. In 510, tired of his over-bearing rule and inspired by ‘the tyrant-slayers’, the Athenians drove Hippias and his family from the city.

The Athenians and the Spartans that is. The Spartans had a reputation as the foes of tyrants. They were one of the few states with enough clout to interfere directly in other cities’ business. They did so from time to time to secure sympathetic allies who would help when help was needed. Herodotus heard that the powerful Alcmaeonids bribed the Delphic oracle to tell all Spartan delegates to ‘liberate’ the Athenians. Such a liberation would mean the family’s return from exile.⁵ The Spartans acted, sending a force to shift the Peisistratids. They may well have been prompted by news that Hippias had married his daughter to the son of the tyrant of Lampsacus; a union intended to establish links to Persia.⁶ Hippias and his family took shelter on the acropolis. Their resistance came to nothing. When the Peisistratids tried to smuggle their children out, they fell into the hands of the Spartan army. Faced with losing the future of their house, the Peisistratids came to terms and agreed to go into exile.⁷ The Spartans, perhaps remarkably, went home.

The age of tyrants at Athens looked to be over, but was it really over and what would replace it? The extraordinary thing in Athenian history is not that the tyrants fell – their dynasties rarely lasted more than a generation or two – but what replaced it. The Alcmaeonids returned, delighted with the result of their patient scheming. Men of great family pushed their way back into the centre of the action. But the Athenians did not revert to the jostling oligarchy of former days. Instead, in 508, Cleisthenes, head of the Alcmaeonids, proposed wide-ranging reforms to welcome the demos into the political decision-making machine.⁸ It would not be easy. Another figure on the scene, Isagoras, urged return to the old constitution and persuaded the Spartans to bring about a coup (again) compelling the Alcmaeonids and 700 associated families to leave. But Isagoras pushed his luck. He tried to rule through a council of 300 followers. The people pushed back. The Spartan king, Cleomenes, and his small band were forced to leave, and the Alcmaeonids and their allies were back. Isagoras left with the Spartans and was subject to some awkward rumours about his wife and Cleomenes.⁹ The reforms could begin.

Cleisthenes remodelled the citizen body into ten tribes (phylai), instead of the traditional four. Athenian territory, Attica, was divided into 139 areas known as demes (demoi, from demos). The Areopagus remained, but not as a ruling body. All citizen men could contribute to discussions in an Assembly, which focused on decisions about going to war, making peace and appointing magistrates. Most power lay with a Council of 500 men, fifty from each tribe. Each deme, that is each community in Attica, now had its own political representation. Demes registered citizens, managed deme finances, oversaw many legal matters and carried out cult activities together. The army would be organised by tribe, so that men who fought together were members of the same local community as well as sharing wider Athenian identity. Each tribe elected its own general (strategos). When call-ups occurred, the Council would nominate tribes to fight and the tribes would look to their citizen lists. The new system opened up responsibilities and decision-making to a wider group than ever before. Many men could now take a role in decisions that affected their lives. Cleisthenes might have been named after his grandfather, the tyrant of Sicyon, bu...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Acknowledgements
• List of Abbreviations
• Introduction
• 1 Athenians at a Turning Point
• 2 The Greek World
• 3 Persia
• 4 Revolt in Ionia
• 5 The Plain of Marathon
• 6 The Fight
• 7 Surviving Marathon
• 8 Events after Marathon
• 9 Memories of Marathon in Fifth-Century Art and Literature
• 10 Marathon beyond the Fifth Century
• 11 Marathon under Rome
• 12 Marathon after Antiquity
• Afterword
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• Copyright