Bright Foundation of Liberty
By John P. Nordin

Chapter IV

            The doom that descended on Marathon was ten years in preparation, and it was also in that tenth year [1] before Marathon that clear-sighted Pythagoras died and Pericles the resolute was born, marking in their joint transition of life the end of the age when all knowledge was one and the beginning of the age of isonomia.  In our age, we describe Pythagoras as a teacher of geometry, philosophy and music, three things, but in his age these things were all one thing.  And it is also true that back in the age of Pythagoras, Pericles would have been thought of as a tyrant or a king, descended as he was from wealthy Xanthippus, but in our age of isonomia we see that Pericles did not command a nation but persuaded an Assembly of free citizens that his ideas were the best.  The idea of oneness unfolding into many ideas and the one with authority over all becoming one among the many citizens, in this tenth year before Marathon, this is how the world changed.

            It was in that year of transition, ten before Marathon, that we must begin.  And we must begin by looking at the island of Naxos, balanced mid way between Athens and the coast of the Persian dominion.  In that year the people of sturdy Naxos demanded to be free and expelled those who had been tyrants over them and these tyrants went, and went agreeably, to appeal to another tyrant who held sway at Miletus, away east on the coast of the Ionian mainland.  Situated at the mouth of the river Maeander, Miletus was a city sacred to Apollo and cradle of Thales, Anaximander and Anaximenes, who were the first to be called lovers of wisdom and among the first who did not need the gods to explain how the cosmos came to be.  This city’s tyrant was Aristagoras.

            Thus far in what I described there is nothing that had not happened a hundred times or more, a tyrant overreaches provoking the people to summon unity enough to reclaim their lives, at least for a time, and it is usually only for a short time before the same tyrant or another resumes power.  Yet, before passing on we should give honor to those of Naxos for demanding not another tyrant who would abuse them a bit less, but something more, a reaching out toward isonomia¸ a desire those of wealth and arbitrary power always find upsetting.

            Perhaps it is fitting that Naxos be this place.  Here, our myths tell us that Ariadne was abandoned by Theseus after she had risked all by giving him a thread of wool to guide his dangerous journey through the labyrinth to freedom, but then was rescued by Dionysus who married her on this island.  The citizens of Naxos risked everything, and more than once, as we shall see, to find their way out of the labyrinth of tyranny and they have been abandoned as cruelly as any rejected lover. 

            The expelled tyrants appealed to Aristagoras and he read the wind and sky, taking careful measure of the dark clouds of Persian domination boiling up from the mainland, spreading west and overreaching the costal cities of Ionia.  Likewise he also assessed the hot wind of anger from those expelled rulers, newly deprived of what they had stolen.  It seemed to him a good and likely thing that if he assisted the tyrants to return to power in Naxos he could please Persia, enrich himself, and be in a secure place when the Persian storm consumed all the Aegean as he thought it soon would.  So with Persian agreement he assembled his forces and obtained the use of some 200 swift triremes of the Persians.  Now Naxos is west of Miletus but this force rowed north as if to cross the mouth of the Hellespont and then sail along the Thracian coast, a path the Persians had gone once before.  A devious mission well deserves a devious path, and so desiring to lull the Naxians into inattention, the fleet lingered at Chios until a favorable wind appeared for their swoop down upon the island of Naxos. 

            But the Naxians had ample warning of the true plan, 200 triremes not being something easily hid, and prepared a solid defense as befits an island known for hard marble and for its rugged eastern side.  For four brave months they held out against the battering force of the Persian host, not fearing the implied might of an empire that stood behind this host as they defended their homes and future.  No matter to these Naxians that Persia had 20 men for each one of them.  So well did they defend their island that the Persians grew tired of the game, no easy conquest appearing, and withdrew despite the pleas of Aristagoras to persist a little longer.

            Well might he make this appeal for he had invested his wealth in this adventure on hope of great gain.  Soon he returned to Miletus with no money, no hope of conquest, no hope of doing a favor for the Persians and nothing but despair to keep him company.  How should a person react at having their unworthy plan come to naught?  To fail at noble causes is worthy, to repent of accomplished evil can redeem, but what of failed mischief?  Perhaps the best would be to slink away and grow old and then, in time, to reflect on one’s good fortune not to have succeeded at doing evil.

            Aristagoras did none of these; having done badly a bad thing for mean reasons he now did as well he could a good thing for reasons of necessity.  He became the very advocate of equal rules he had previously sworn to destroy: he proclaimed isonomia at Miletus and declared his own city in revolt from Persian domination.  Gladly the citizens of this city took him at his word and rose in rebellion against the Persians.

            As he had seen the strength of Persia as a valuable ally now he saw it as foretelling doom for his own city and so sought help.  Because of his recent attempt to enslave them, he could not appeal to Naxos even though her citizens would have been natural and willing allies of the newly freed citizens of Miletus since that worthy island now both understood the price of freedom and had experience fighting for it.  But the citizens of Naxos were not allowed to have an opinion on this.  Aristagoras went first to distant Sparta, west and south of Athens, deep in the rugged enfolding mountains and asked that land-locked city for aid. 

            Here he betrayed his true interests, arguing to that noble warrior race not that they should fight for pride or freedom or for the honor of doing a just thing for no personal gain, instead he described the plunder to be made by not merely defending his own city but from plundering the array of regions lying one next to the other, inland from the coast all the way to Susa where the king of Persia horded his massive stock of gold. 

            The Spartans turned him down, claiming it was too long a march, giving a trivial reason for rejecting his earthly request.  And so Aristagoras went to Athens and came to the first of these Athenian assemblies that shall, one after the other, shape our narrative.

            And here before a crowd, the assembly, the citizens gathered, he began to appeal for their assistance.  He claimed the Persians were weak soldiers, he claimed again there was ample plunder to be had, he appealed to the tie of blood between Athens who had given settlers to found his own city of Miletus. And swayed by his manifold appeals, the assembly voted to send twenty ships against the Persian horde, a fleet of twenty to be commanded by Melanthius of distinguished reputation.  And among those who were a captain of a trireme in this fleet, not last in rank, was my father, Phillamos.

            It was also in this year that Aeschylus, the father of tragedy, presented his first play in that theater lying south of the sacred Acropolis and a gentle walk from where the crowd had gathered to decide how we would or would not cast our lot with freedom or fear.  Aeschylus, of noble birth, would later, much later, have occasion to present movingly the next to final act in the story I am telling you here, in a drama that I saw with Themistocles.  In this first play he only hinted at the greatness to follow.  Aeschylus struggled to allow more characters to speak in his plays to allow the full play of events to be described with justice, so I, in my own way, aim to show how all these actors, the assembly, the soldiers, the ships and the ship of my father, the land and the sea came to shape our lives and yours.

            I was not born when my father’s ship rowed out of the Piraeus and set course southwest, rowing past the farms of my family and I do not know if he searched to obtain a glance of his farm, but any soldier heading to battle must consider if he will return or not.  My father had not yet married my mother so it may have been his father and mother who stood on the hill that I later so loved in the hopes of one last glimpse of their son as he went off on a journey ill-fated.  Certainly such actions are commonly done by fathers and mothers, proud of the honor their child has brought, worried at what fate might bring, determined not to let other see their worry.

            My father told me about this voyage when I was a child.  Later the men from his ship told me more.  And so I know that on the long trip over the wine-dark sea, around Sounion’s rocky cape, down Andros’ shore, across the brow of Naxos, south of an unnamed island and then into Ephesus of the great buildings, there was much talk, brave and grim.  The smooth-skinned beardless young were brave and boastful, the elders, my father among these, cautious and wondering how much weight a handful of ships from Athens would shift the balance when thrown against the horde of Persia.  Then too, they also wondered why Athens had only sent twenty of her ships and not the entire fleet, but such talk was regarded as ill-omend treason by the young men.

            It was in Ephesus that the Athenians, not yet the most powerful city not the leader of all the cities, but only one city among many, gathered together with those from many other cities and discussed together what would be the best choice for them to do.  They came to agreement and set off inland to Sardis, rich in gold, said to be the birthplace of Dionysus, and home of the descendents of Hercules.  Here, before the Tmolus Mountains and above the Hermus River, Croesus reigned and produced coins of gold and silver mixed together.  And here too, Cyrus overthrew and sacked the city and thus it became a capital of the Persians and attractive to Aristagoras in his guise as friend of the people.  We should remember the bravery and daring of the men of this group, foolish and ill-fated though the group’s errand be, for conquest of Persia was impossible, it being seventy times or more larger than the area of all those who spoke the same language as Athens.  A check, a prick of the Persian skin was possible, though all it might do is to rouse the giant to action.

            On the march in, as on the voyage, my father was filled with grim foreboding at such a task, with its motives both base and noble.  He had voiced his objections in the assembly at the coast to no effect, and had occasion during the march to form more elegant and persuasive words that he wished he had spoken.

            Whether through accident or design the city caught on fire as the soldiers were attempting to take it.  And then, whether through malice or hubris, these fighters for freedom who were aiming at a city worth plundering, led by a people’s ruler who was trying to save his finances did a thing of no value to making profit nor to honor: they burned the temple of Artemis Cybele, the great mother.  This sacrilegious thing would not go unpunished.

            Indeed, it appeared as if punishment would come swiftly, for no sooner had Sardis burnt, then word came that a roused Persian host was bearing down with great haste on the soldiers from the cities of the Hellenes.  The army of the allies took to their heels, withdrawing with all the speed they could toward the coast.  It was a long and agonizing race because an army cannot move as fast as one person, so everyone was being checked by those in front of them, even though everyone was hurrying will all the speed they could.  Closer the coastline came as closer the Persians came up behind them and all met together at Ephesus on the coast and the battle was joined.  The Ionians and their allies were defeated sharply and decisively by the Persians, scattering the army.  After the battle, retreating even more, snatching a quick assembly amid the death and ruin of the battle, the Athenians voted to withdraw.  And they did, hastily pouring into their triremes and rowing and sailing, as the wind permitted, with all haste back to Athens, leaving the Ionians to their fate.

            Now, on the silent voyage back, there was white anger and cautious silence as on the way out, but of different groups then heretofore.  My father and his shipmates told me how my father seethed with shame to abandon people who wanted only freedom as he burned with shame to burn a city for no purpose.  Those, by contrast, who had boasted the most and shown their violent determination on the voyage towards Persia, were, I am told, entirely silent on the way back.

            Yet this action, as suited for a comedy as for a tragedy, would be judged a poor effort in either style of drama, yet it was not without effect, for in short order, other revolts occured.  The Ionians did not abandon their dream of freedom even though Athens, later to be the very dream of freedom, had abandoned them.  Why did these isolated and small cities dare to oppose the mighty power of Persia?  They saw no choice.  Persia had been gnawing at them for twenty years, pushing ever westward into Thrace and the Aegean, taking goods and land, imposing tolls and taxes, pinching trade and always exerting more control over the cities.  And so the revolt spread north to Byzantium, and south to Caria.  Soon the green isle of Cyprus also threw off the Persian yoke.  For a time, it looked as if they would succeed.

            And so the days came and went until winter’s bitter winds came again.  Then, in the next spring, seven years before the Persians trod arrogantly at Marathon, it was revealed that the Persian high command had not been sleeping or inactive.  A large Persian army was assembled and then divided into three parts under three obedient sons-in-law of King Darius.  One host under Daurises moved to the Hellespont, a second commanded by Hymaees moved east from there to the area of Propontis and the third under Otanes south to Ionia.  The Persians called on the sea-wise Phoenicians from east of Cyprus to suppress the revolt in Cyprus.  Caria then rose in more general rebellion and Daurises had to change his plans and send his army south to counter the Carians.

            Many and bitter were the battles that ensued, and the Ionians did not always fare poorly against the might of Persia.  But in a year Cyprus was subdued and the Carians were defeated.  Seeing that fate had twice worked to frustrate his ambitions, Aristagoras abandoned Miletus and took flight.  As the winter closed in he was killed while in Myrcinus of the Edonians in Thrace.  Thus he became neither the savior of the Ionians nor a tyrant mighty enough to be remembered but rather a warning that those with divided purposes achieve neither.

            Another year and it appeared the Persians were about to finish the crushing of all resistance when in Caria, Daurises and his other senior generals were ambushed and killed on the Pedasus road.  This stoke of daring cut the head of the Persian lion and caused the Persians to withdraw.  But others have said that the real reason for Persian retreat was the election in Athens of Hipparchos, a known friend of Persia, to the high position of Eponymous Archon.  Those who say this believe that this gesture of peace to Persia was enough for that great empire to decide to defer its advance for a year.  Sitting in the agora, at the center of the city, the center of our lives, this sounded wise, especially since it flattered our pride to think that the subtle changes in the government of our city were sufficient to make the world tremble.  However, I do not agree.  At the time of the election of Hipparchos Athens was a weak city unknown to many in the Persian capital and since the plans and purposes of Persia to expand westward had been fifty years in the making they would not defer them by such a small a thing as a friend being elected to some office in a city they sought to conquer.  When I would say this, I would be accused of disloyalty to my city and of attacking its importance.  I do not think any one can with justice reject my view.

            And what of Athens all this time?  Greatness comes by degrees for some, and during this time by small and convenient arguments the Athenians convinced themselves that this battle had nothing to do with them.  Successes of the Ionians were taken as proof that Ionia would be free and Athens protected.  Failures were put aside.  Many were the warnings that Athens was given, but they did not prepare either in weapons or in achieving unity despite how the disunity of Ionia was plain to see and obvious in effect. 

            For while none can fault the bravery of Ionia, nor fail to admire their courage in fighting, nor question their motives to be free, yet, they could not set aside their divisions as cities and unify their plans and command.  No one city, not even Miletus, was obviously their leader, no commander came to common acclaim by character or deeds, no one plan demanded adoption.  And so, they would have come to grief, six years before Marathon, but for that fortunate and brave ambush.

            And then there was a year of quiet, or at least quiet of the sort seen by histories.  Sophocles, the actor and author, was born in that quiet year, and so disrupted the quiet of his parent’s house with the drama of life.  Others were born and died, and numberless were the vocal dramas of love played that year. 

            So now I have come in my narrative to four years before Marathon.  In this year, the Persians showed that they were determined to conquer Ionia and were willing to change plans in order to adjust their methods to the task.  They decided that Miletus was the nest where all their problems had come to birth and determined to clean it out.  Summoning their sea-faring allies the Phoenicians, they assembled a mighty force from land and sea and aimed it at Miletus.  In this decision they were perhaps wiser than they knew.  Miletus was the home of Aristagores whom the Persians could blame for all their troubles, but he had left Miletus and, for that matter, was dead.  But this issue, however it may have started, was now firmly and plainly about freedom.  Miletus had confirmed this when they refused allegiance to another tyrant, Histiaeus. 

Now this Histiaeus has not appeared in my history thus far, but has been a force behind the public stage nevertheless.  He had been a friend to Persia of long standing and been awarded territory in Ionia for his service.  Aristagores was both his son-in-law and his appointed vassal of Miletus while he sojourned in Persia with the King.  Now Histiaeus attempted to claim openly what he claimed to rule.  The citizens of Miletus would have none of this.  For this we should give them honor, for if they had accepted Histiaeus, they could have enjoyed a return to prosperity under indirect Persian control, and as Persian supremacy seemed inevitable, this would have been the prudent path.  Instead, they chose to be rulers of themselves.

            Aware of the force aiming at their freedom, the representatives of Ionia met at the Panionium on the mainland north of Priene and opposite Samos to decide what to do.  There, they debated openly as was proper, but could not decide on unity as was necessary.  They did agree to this: that their best chance lay with the choppy sea and not the dusty land.  They would put their freedom in the hands of their triremes and try themselves against the Persians and their Phoenician allies.  In this they were not foolish, for when the Persian commanders gazed upon the Ionian fleet it was Persia that had second thoughts due to the formidable numbers of their opponents.

            For when the Panionium deliberations had been brought into effect it was found that nine cities, but not Athens or Sparta, had brought their fleets together by the island of Lade so near to Miletus to offer battle for their freedom.  More than 300 triremes came from the nine cities, Miletus itself, Chios, Lesbos and Samos contributing the most with contingents smaller but no less dear from Priene, Myus, Teos, Erythrae and Phocaea of the sea faring tradition. 

            But this force, as awesome as it was to contemplate had a fatal weakness that both sides came quickly to understand, a weakness that would decide the fate of the battle.  The deliberations at Panionium were good only as far as they went but they had not settled on a commander for this fleet nor a plan for how it should be used.  The Persians immediately set about attempting to prevent either a plan or unified command from forming.  These cities,  Miletus included, had no small stock of former tyrants the people had rejected and which Persia had easy access to.  The Persian leaders at Lade immediately sent all of these homeless rulers around attempting to find one of the cities of Ionia, or more if could be, to be bribed away from unity of action into making a separate peace.  And as we have had cause to say before, and will again, a separate arrangement with Persia for life in exchange for liberty could well seem a way of making a virtue out of what was inevitable.  It is to the eternal glory of the nine Ionian cities that these attempts were, at this stage at least, a complete failure, and this should be remembered against those who for their own reasons dismiss the courage of the Ionians.

            The Ionians in their assembly also debated questions of unity and purpose and finally agreed to a suggestion of one Dionysius of Phocaea to grant him the leadership in battle.  This claim to leadership did not rest on triremes, for Phocaea brought only three, but that his city was the first to make long voyages and had a heroic history of exploration and discovery that won admiration, a history ended when the Persians destroyed the city some 50 years before Marathon.  Many felt this choice of battle commander was a way to avoid upset among the leaders of the several cities who had brought large but not predominate forces to Lade.  And so Dionysius set about training his force, desiring not just for the status of commander, but willingly accepting the responsibility to bring his charges into battle ready and with a plan to achieve victory. 

            For a week all went well as the Ionian host learned to work as one and learned how wisely use the power of their warships in the soon-arriving trial of battle.  But unity can feel like tyranny to those unclear of their purpose and so they began to grumble and to make fantastic claims that this training for freedom was worse than living as slaves.  Eloquently did Dionysius appeal to them to accept some little time of discipline to achieve the longer and more glorious years of freedom for themselves and families.  Plainly did ruin stare them in the face if they were to disunite, but it proved of no effect and they took their freedom now and refused his orders, instead lying about in total freedom on the beach with shallow amusements and witty talk.  For this, Dionysius would have been well justified in taking his three ships and leaving the idlers to the fate of those who think freedom is the absence of purpose, but he did not abandon them.  What would three ships be out of more than three hundred?  His departure would not have changed the outcome of battle, but he did not abandon them.  For this alone, his name should be remembered in the pantheon of those who have shown honor and have fought for freedom.  I do not know if any monument remembers him, if not, let these words be his monument.

            The commanders from Samos also gave close attention to the unmilitary behavior of the Ionian sailors.  They saw the same facts as Dionysius, but came to a different conclusion, one that revealed their character.  They decided that if the Ionians could not be united in time of training and had no courage when the sea was calm and free of enemy that unity and courage were not likely to be displayed while in the storm of battle.  Consequently they privately resolved to accept the offers of the Persians and await a fitting moment to act.

            And so the battle came.  And in the battle, as it was beginning, the Persian’s plan came to fruition.  The Samians set sail and departed for home, but eleven ships from Pythagoras’ island had more courage and stayed to share the fate of their Ionian friends.  Seeing this force depart, the Lesbians became alarmed at the weakening situation and so decided that the battle was lost and they did not wish to die for no purpose and also left as did some from other cities.  Let it be recorded that the ships of Chios did not leave and fought bravely and well.  The battle went against the Ionians and it was apparent that all was soon to be lost.  Only then, with the fate of the battle well decided, did Dionysius and the Phocaeian ships depart.  They did not return to their city on the coast so accessible to Persian power but bent their backs to row away west to Sicily and perhaps beyond, for it was daring sailors from Phocaea who had ventured far west in their fifty-oared vessels carrying colonists to plant the city of Massallia [2] on such distant shores.

            Ionia was lost.  Soon after this battle the Persians gave siege to Miletus and in due course it was taken.  The Persians gave bitter proof of the consequence of defying them and sent a message that could be heard everywhere if one had ears to listen.  They burnt the city and killed every man they could find.  They took the women into hard slavery, violating their honor as they wished.  It was only those who fled who returned later to rebuild these islands.

            Thus ended the Ionian rebellion.  The Persian fleet spent the winter off Miletus.  In these two facts, the bitter fate of Ionia and of Miletus in particular, and the location of the fleet, forward and unretreating, lay the message, clear and plain that this was a struggle of freedom against dominion and that it would not be possible for Athens and its neighbors to stand aside or debate idly what would happen.  No longer could we dabble, committing a few ships but escaping when things got difficult.  Now we would have to commit everything or nothing.  The Ionian chapter had ended; the Athenian chapter was now opening.  Would we of Athens learn unity from Ionian disunity as we would take courage from their example, or would we make the same mistakes or different ones that would bring on our heads the same fate?

            Four years before the host encamped at Marathon we could not see how we would answer, or answer in a way that would prove successful.  Nor could anyone see how these six years of conflict had laid any lasting foundation for freedom.