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‘Greece: History and Mythology’ Category

  1. The Chair of Forgetfulness

    January 29, 2012 by host

    Chair of Forgetfuless, Stone Bench, Garden, roses

    or What happens when alpha males get together

    The story goes something like this: The great Athenian hero Theseus and his best friend Pirithous, King of the Lapithae, were sitting around bored and looking for a challenge. On a whim, the newly widowed Pirithous announced that he would have the most closely guarded lady in the entire universe for his second wife–Persephone herself. Theseus pledged his support, and true to his thrill-seeking competitive nature, took up his friend’s challenge and declared that he would first carry off Helen (always Helen!)–future heroine of Troy–before he helped Pirithous abduct Persephone from the underworld.

    I think it’s safe to assume that alcohol and massive egos were involved.

    Theseus successfully abducted Helen (poor Helen!), but while Theseus and his friend were on their way to the underworld, Helen’s brothers, Castor and Pollux, led the Spartan army against the city that held her. They made sure to sack the city before taking Helen back to Sparta.

    Few details are known about the journey to the underworld, but Hades–Persephone’s ‘husband’ and god of the underworld–was perfectly aware of Pirithous’s and Theseus’s intentions and devised a plan to thwart them. When the pair arrived, Hades didn’t kill them, as they were already in the realm of death, but rather invited them to to have a seat and rest after their long journey. As soon as they took the places Hades offered them, serpents tightly coiled around them and bound them to their seats. They had unwittingly sat on the Chair of Forgetfulness–a chair that makes a clean slate of memory and holds forever those who sit on it.

    Luckily for Theseus, his cousin Heracles was passing through the underworld to finish his twelfth labor–taking Cerberus back to Mycenae. Cerberus was the three-headed dog who stood guard over the entrance to Hades, ensuring that all who crossed the River Styx were never allowed to leave. When Heracles saw the two unfortunate over-achievers, he took pity on them and managed to free Theseus. Unfortunately, Hades returned before he was able to set Pirithous loose.

    Athenians are said to have such lean thighs because part of Theseus’ thighs were torn off when Heracles pulled him free from the chair.

    Back in the land of sunshine, Theseus set off for Athens. But poor Pirithous, for all we know, still sits on the Chair of Forgetfulness. (O thou Memorie! So fleeting! O Despair!)

    Inspired by this story, I’ve designated the beautiful bench pictured at the top of this post as my Chair of Forgetfulness. My chair is benevolent in nature and differs from the chair of legend in several key ways: it’s in a garden rather than in Hades; it’s surrounded by roses rather than serpents; and I’m free to leave whenever I want. These differences work out well for me. In this sylvan setting, saturated with the heady scent of roses, I’m able to forget just about anything.

    Where is your chair?

    © 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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  2. Remember the Athenians

    January 16, 2012 by host

    Pink Daisy flower on green background

    After the Athenians trounced the Persians so thoroughly at the Battle of Marathon, the Persian emperor Darius became so single-minded in his quest for vengeance, he instructed a slave to whisper in his ear three times every night while serving dinner, “Master, remember the Athenians!”

    First, how could you possibly ever enjoy a dinner again when constantly being reminded of your most crushing defeat?

    Second, how awesome would it be to have someone around who constantly reminded you to stay focused on your priorities! It goes without saying that I am completely against servants of any type, but if I could, I would gladly pay someone to serve this function in my life.

    I’m particularly sold on this now, because for the past two months I’ve been focused on a singular goal to the exclusion of all other goals. So much so, I couldn’t even visit my parents in Wisconsin for Orthodox Christmas because it meant I would probably lose hold on my tenuous focus. I justified this by reminding myself that they would be gaining much by my success as well. I reached my goal, but my victory wasn’t quite as resounding as the Athenians. It’s the equivalent of the Athenians saying, “Well, that wasn’t half bad, but next time we’ll have to really defeat them.”

    Still, I comfort myself with the reminder that at least I got further along than Darius did. Xerxes, Darius’s successor, initially cared very little about getting revenge on the Greeks until his ambitious brother-on-law Mardonius began provoking him to rage over their humiliating defeat at Marathon. This led to the Persians amassing the greatest land force in history to meet 300 Spartans at a 50 foot pass at Thermopylae. We all know how that turned out. Hubris: too bad we can never see it before it’s too late.

    In other news, now that I have somewhat more time, I’d really like to spruce the joint up a bit. This current blog theme was only supposed to be a temporary hold until I had more time to do a redesign. I find myself wanting to avoid my own blog because I don’t like the look of it. It’s like this blog is my hard-scrabble cousin who lives in a trailer park and sells his own moonshine: I am bound to him by love and affection, but a little too embarrassed to claim relation. So, it’s time for a redesign. I’m definitely open to suggestions.

    © 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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  3. The gods only respect those they test first

    April 1, 2011 by host

    Greece-Ruin-Greek-Islands

    Herakles, Theseus, Psyche.

    Jesus, Peter, Paul.

    Abraham, Moses, Job.

    Try this theory out with any religion and you’ll realize the deck is always stacked in the gods’s favor. If you want to join in the feasting of the blessed, you’d better start preparing that pound of flesh.

    Tests of loyalty and love only work if you believe that the end justifies the means, and I don’t. I mean, if I were walking down the street and met my friend Abraham walking with his little son Isaac and  holding a big knife, I’d knock Abe over the head with the nearest club I could find and run away with Isaac. Never mind all that test of faith stuff.

    Herakles’s story is a bit different because he was seeking redemption for the evils he had committed, and that should always be difficult. What kind of cleansing would come from a half-baked effort? It wouldn’t be worth it, to Herakles or to the gods quite frankly.

    What I really like about the 12 trials of Herakles is that they included really cool and fantastical things, like retrieving the three golden apples of the Hesperides, as well as the most human of tasks: cleaning out a stable that hadn’t seen a cleaning in ages. There were only ten trials originally, but when Herakles finished the tenth one, Eurystheus discounted two of them because Herakles had received outside help. While that must have pissed him off to no end, at least he was given a set of rules and steps to follow and he knew that forgiveness was waiting for him on the other end. Abraham had no idea what the outcome of his test of faith would be.

    Herakles’s example of forgiveness aside, in principal, I’m against tests of love. Why can’t the gods just graciously accept love when it’s offered to them, all pure and shiny? Why do they have to get all medieval about it?

    With a great stretch of the imagination, I’m going to link all this to my search for a home in Greece.

    Last year, I found a bit of property that was very much to my liking.  You can see from the photo above that the term ‘fixer upper’ doesn’t begin to do it justice.  It’s a ruin, but I don’t mind because the location is perfect — far from the crowd and screeching scooters, in one of my favorite places on earth.  So I took some photos, checked out the property, and began a search for someone who might be able to help me find out if it was for sale.  Even if it wasn’t, I figured it would at least give me a starting point for similar properties on the island.  I tried contacting a realtor who worked on the island, but it was summer and everyone was on holiday, and I didn’t mind waiting.

    Fast forward a few months, I contact the realtor through e-mail and tell him about the property and my interest in it.  He replies that it’s for sale and asks me to clarify where it is exactly.  I send him photos of the property and the nearest road,  with an explanation of where the property is located.  The island isn’t all that large and he’s a realtor, so I figured he wouldn’t have a problem identifying it.  I don’t hear anything for weeks after my e-mail.  I follow up by sending the realtor a google map of the island with the area I’m interested in circled in red.  He replies that he doesn’t know what property I’m talking about.  He says there is a property for sale in XXXX by  XXXX road; he thanks me for my interest.  Something sounds very final in his reply, so I send him one more e-mail explaining that I believe we are talking about the same property, and I tell him I’d be interested in hearing about other properties he might have available.  I never hear from him again.

    Another month goes by, I’m not able to find any other realtors, so I contact a tourist agency on the island that’s been very helpful to me in the past and is staffed by people who speak perfect English. I ask them if they might be able to recommend a realtor on the island who could help me.  They reply that they’ll get back to me in a few days with a recommendation.  Weeks go by, I send a follow-up e-mail.  Nothing.

    Was it something I said?  This has me perplexed because in American culture, it’s really difficult to get rid of a realtor once you’ve expressed interest in buying a property: you’ll get weekly updates on properties they have available; they’ll invite you to viewings with promises of cookies and coffee; they’ll help you define what your priorities are and how they can help you meet your goals.

    I understand and respect that different cultures have their own way of doing things, but I was raised with one foot in American culture, the other foot in European culture, and this one has me perplexed.  I’m open to being enlightened by anyone who understands how these things work in Greece.

    In other news, I might shut the blog down for maintenance soon.  After almost two years, I’m tired of seeing the same old template and wanted to futz around with the look a bit.  I don’t have any experience in code, or html, or whatever is needed to tweak it, so it might take me a couple weeks. I’ll be back with a new look and photos of cherry blossoms.

    Enjoy spring!

    © 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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  4. Of Gods and Goddesses

    December 6, 2010 by host

    Greek-Gods-Hercules-sarcophagusGetty-Villa

    Hail, children of Zeus! Grant lovely song and celebrate the holy race of the deathless gods who are for ever, those that were born of Earth and starry Heaven and gloomy Night and them that briny Sea did rear.

    Tell how at the first gods and earth came to be, and rivers, and the boundless sea with its raging swell, and the gleaming stars, and the wide heaven above, and the gods who were born of them, givers of good things, and how they divided their wealth, and how they shared their honours amongst them, and also how at the first they took many-folded Olympus.

    These things declare to me from the beginning, ye Muses who dwell in the house of Olympus, and tell me which of them first came to be.

    Hesiod, Theogony (ll. 104-115)

    Greek-Gods-Aphrodite-Statue-Getty-Villa

    Wandering through the Getty Villa in Los Angeles, I was reminded of how much I love the ancient stories of gods and goddesses in Greek mythology.

    These all-too-human gods are so obviously reflections of us, the earthdwellers. They mirror the joys, the sorrows, and the challenges of human experience.

    Who could be more humanly flawed than commitment phobic Theseus, abandoning Ariadne on the island of Naxos?  Who can’t relate to Demeter cursing the earth after losing her daughter, Persephone, to the god of the underworld?  Who isn’t enchanted with Orpheus, who made even the rocks and trees sway to the melody of his music?

    Greek-Gods-Statue-Getty-Villa

    Today, we look back on these stories and see them for what they are — human truths revealed through stories and fabrications.  Yet these very stories were the religion of ancient Greece.  Olympian gods and goddesses were worshipped just as fervently as our own are today.  People lit candles to them, prayed  for hours on end to them, devoted their lives to them.  The philosopher Socrates was sentenced to death for preaching foreign gods and leading the youth of Athens astray.

    This seems so preposterous to us today, when we’ve replaced all the old deities with our more modern god(s).  We marvel that people actually believed these ludicrous propositions and organized their lives around them. We can scarcely believe vicious wars were fought over these beliefs.

    It’s so clear to us, from a distance of 3,000 years, that these are merely stories.

    Greek-Gods-Statue-Demeter-Getty-Villa

    The old switcharoo.

    A recent dinner conversation with a friend brought Nietzsche’s words home for me: “Even the most courageous of us only rarely has the courage to face what (s)he already knows.”

    Oh Friedrich, my moody Friedrich. How right you were.

    Greek-Gods-Statue-Zeus-Getty-Villa

    I wonder what made the ancient Greeks abandon their gods.  I haven’t the foggiest idea how this came about.  Was it quick — an epidemic of disbelief? Was it slow and gradual? Was it Constantine? Did some stragglers obstinately hold on, despite all the evidence that their country’s greatest thinkers —  masters of reason, logic and coherent rational thought — presented to them?  Were there some who just wouldn’t let go?  I’ll bet there were.  The thought of losing their great and honorable purpose in life, the fabric of their existence, their peace of mind, the holy sparkle in their eye, Zeus their god and protector, must have been terrifying to them. An abomination.

    I wonder if Sam Harris’ analagous story could have swayed them:

    “Say I told you that I thought there was a diamond the size of a refrigerator buried in my backyard, and you asked me why I believed this. I say, this belief gives my life meaning, or my family draws a lot of joy from this belief, and we dig for this diamond every Sunday and we have this gigantic pit in our lawn. I would start to sound like a lunatic to you. You would say, you can’t really believe there’s a diamond in your backyard because it gives your life meaning. That’s a self-deception that nobody should want.”

    Sam’s story probably wouldn’t have convinced many, because the definition of faith is a firm belief in something for which there is no proof.  The ancient Greeks would have tried to convince you that proof of Athena’s existence lies in all the olive trees that grow in Greece.  Didn’t Athena give us olive trees, after all? And aren’t the mountains and valleys of Epirus, and the clear streams of Macedonia, proof of Zeus’ love?  Isn’t the turbulent Aegean proof of Poseidon’s wrath? Just yesterday, someone prayed to the Hyades for rain, and it rained.  What more proof do you need? Can’t you feel Aphrodite’s love in your heart? The warmth of Helios’s sun on your face? Are you comparing the true god of Greece to barbaric Persian idols? Who but Zeus could have created such perfect order in the world? Don’t you know you could be condemned to the deepest pit of Hades for such a blasphemy? There’s just no convincing some people, they would say.

    Greek-Roman-Gods-Statue-Leda-and-Swan-Getty-Villa

    Say you were transported back to ancient Greece, and all around you even the most intelligent people linked arms and joined processions to the gods. Politicians and leaders based their most serious decisions (when to go to war, when not to) on the predictions of the oracle at Delphi, and the priests of Apollo forbade the eating of certain foods around the time of the great god’s birth. What would you do?  Would you stand up in the Agora and shout the truth loud enough for all to hear?  How many would you convince, do you suppose? Would you be sentenced to death by hemlock, like Socrates was? At the very least, you’d probably be ostracized and driven out of the city for being a heretic.

    Or perhaps you’d simply make your way through the market place, like an anthropologist observing archaic rituals.

    Would you go on with your day, thankful to be free of the superstition and mysticism that holds so many?  Embracing truth and the fragile, ephemeral beauty of life, would you be hopeful that someday the legacy of replacing one deity with another would come to an end, and the sun would set on all these gods, so that mankind could run headlong into a future brighter than anything the ancients could have imagined?

    sunset, beach, running

    From a distance of three thousand years, everything is so beautifully clear.

    © 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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  5. Sparta: Leonidas and the Brave 300

    March 25, 2010 by host

    Spring always reminds me that it’s almost summer and summer reminds me that I should be getting into some sort of acceptable shape for the hiking, swimming, and suitcase hauling that lie ahead.

    I was raised an athlete and ran sprints for as long as my crooked feet would carry me. I continued to work out in some form or another long after I stopped running sprints, but five years ago it all abruptly and completely stopped.

    Was it all those years spent in the gym and on the track?  Was it boredom?  Probably both, but all I can say for certain is that apart from my weekly yoga classes, and a few laps in the pool every now and then, my workouts only consist of the walking I’ve been doing since I gave up driving my car last May.

    I’m loathe to return to the gym.  Endorphins-enshmorphins, I’d rather read a good book.  But even if I read Dickens until the cows came home, the most it would do is give my sore eyes a workout.  Exercise, I must.

    To get my work-out mojo flowing, I’ve been channelling the Spartans to lead the way.  If you ever feel like you need guidance in discipline, I suggest a good read on the Spartans.  You’ll wonder what the hell you’ve been doing with your life.

    So I thought I’d do a post on the Spartans to remind myself that every path requires sacrifice, in one form or another.

    I had a hard time motivating myself to even write this post, because I knew that a work-out would be waiting for me at the end of it — that’s how bad it is.

    To kick things off, I’ll begin with everyone’s favorite Spartan — Leonidas — and the 300 men who followed him in search of a beautiful death in history’s greatest last stand — the battle of Thermopylae.

    The Road to Thermopylae

    In August or September of 480 BC, Leonidas, leader of Sparta, set off with 300 Spartans to meet an invading Persian army at Thermopylae — translated as “Hot Gates” and named after the sulphurous hot springs that still percolate in the area.

    The 300 men who accompanied Leonidas were hand picked by him to serve in an elite unit known as “Hippeis”–the king’s personal bodyguards.  The unit was comprised of the best Spartan warriors, who were held in the highest esteem by their fellow citizens.  The Hippeis was usually made up of battle-hardened veterans in their 20′s and 30′s, but for the rendezvous with the Persians, Leonidas ordered that only men with living sons would accompany him  – thereby guaranteeing that their bloodline would not be extinguished with death on the battlefield.

    The Oracle of Delphi had prophesied that Sparta would be conquered and left in ruins or that one of her two hereditary kings, descendants of Hercules, would have to sacrifice his life to defend her.  Since Leonidas could not take enough men to ensure a victory, he was convinced they were marching into certain death.

    At this time of year the Spartans, de facto military leaders of the Greek alliance, were celebrating the festival of Carneia. During the Carneia, military activity was forbidden by Spartan law; the Spartans had arrived too late at the Battle of Marathon because of this requirement. It was also the time of the Olympic Games, and therefore the Olympic truce, and thus it would have been doubly sacrilegious for the entire Spartan army to march to war. On this occasion, the ephors (Spartan officials) decided the urgency was sufficiently great to justify an advance expedition to block the pass at Thermopylae. This expedition was to try and gather as many other allied troops along the way as possible, and to await the arrival of the main Spartan army.

    En route to Thermopylae, the Spartan force was reinforced by contingents from various cities and numbered more than 5,000 by the time it arrived at the pass. Leonidas chose to camp at, and defend, the narrowest part of the pass, the middle gate  where the Phocians had built a defensive wall against invaders from Thessaly some time before. Upon arrival, the Greek forces began reconstructing the wall, which was in a state of disrepair.

    News also reached Leonidas, by locals from the nearby city of Trachis, that there was a mountain track which could be used to outflank the pass.  In response, Leonidas stationed 1,000 Phocians on the heights to prevent such a maneuver.

    Perhaps the greatest controversy relative to the Battle of Thermopylae is the issue dealing with the number of warriors in the Persian army.  Herodotus put the number at 2.5 million, other historians have suggested numbers between 200,000 to 4 million.  The confusion stems partly from decimal points, but one thing is certain — the Greeks were vastly outnumbered.  The pass at Thermopylae was chosen as the battle site because, at only 50 ft. wide, it would allow a small contingent of fighters to hold off a vastly greater army.

    When the Persians entered the pass, they sent a mounted scout to reconnoiter. The Greeks allowed him to come up to the camp, observe them and depart. When the scout reported to the Persian leader, Xerxes, the size of the Greek force and that the Spartans were indulging in calisthenics and combing their long hair, Xerxes found the reports laughable. Seeking the counsel of an exiled Spartan in his employ, Demaratus, Xerxes was told not to underestimate them — the Spartans were preparing for battle and that it was their custom to adorn their hair beforehand.

    Xerxes remained incredulous. According to another account, he sent emissaries to the Greek forces. At first, he asked Leonidas to join him by offering the kingship of all Greece. Leonidas answered: “If you knew what was valuable in life, you wouldn’t covet what is not yours. For me it is better to die for Greece than to rule over my compatriots.”

    Then Xerxes asked him more forcefully to surrender their arms. To this Leonidas gave his famous answer: “Come and get them.”

    Despite their extremely disproportionate numbers, Greek morale was high. Herodotus writes that when Dienekes, a Spartan soldier, was informed that Persian arrows would be so numerous as “to blot out the sun”, he remarked with characteristically laconic prose, “So much the better, we shall fight in the shade.”

    Day One

    Xerxes waited four days for the Greek force to disperse. On the fifth day he ordered the Medes and the Cissians to take the Greeks prisoner and bring them before him.  According to Ctesias, the first wave numbered 10,000 soldiers.

    The Medes soon found themselves in a frontal assault. The Greeks had camped on either side of the rebuilt Phocian wall. That the wall was guarded shows that the Greeks were using it to establish a reference line for the battle, but they fought in front of it.

    The Greeks deployed in a phalanx, a wall of overlapping shields and layered spearpoints spanning the entire width of the pass. Herodotus says that the units from each state were kept together and that Leonidas rotated the fighters so that fresh troops would always be at the forefront.  The Persians, armed with arrows, wicker sheilds, and short spears, could not break through the long spears of the phalanx, nor were their lightly armoured men a match for the superior armour, weaponry, and discipline of the Spartans.

    The Greeks also used a maneuver in which they pretended to retreat in disorder only to turn suddenly and attack the pursuing Medes. In this way they killed so many Medes that Xerxes is said to have started up off the seat from which he was watching the battle three times. According to Ctesias, the first wave was “cut to ribbons” with only two or three Spartans dead.

    The king eventually withdrew the Medes. Having taken the measure of the enemy, he threw the best troops he had into a second assault: the Immortals, an elite corps of 10,000 men.  The Immortals were the Spartans heralded counterparts in the Persian army.  As the name implied, an aura of invincibility surrounded this unit.

    As frightening and disciplined as the Immortals were,  they found, as had the Medes and others before them, that in the confines of the pass their numbers were a hindrance rather than a help.  Strategically speaking, the width of the pass was of paramount importance since it negated the strength of the Persian army.  Once again their shorter spears could not penetrate the formidable bristling line of the Greeks, nor their arrows pierce the great bronze shields.

    As countless wars have shown, courage is not enough.  Against superior weaponry even the bravest fall, and when those better weapons were wielded by men whose whole life had been nothing but a preparation for war, the outcome was inevitable.

    Xerxes had to withdraw the Immortals and the first day of battle probably ended there.

    Day Two

    On the second day, the Persian assault failed again. Bodies lay everywhere and the battle took place over the dead and dying. The wall of bodies must have broken up the Persian line and detracted from their morale. Climbing over the bodies, they could see that they had stepped into a killing machine but were prevented from withdrawing by the officers in the rear. Xerxes at last stopped the assault and withdrew to his camp, totally perplexed. He now knew that a head-on confrontation against Spartan-led troops in a narrow pass was the wrong approach.

    Late on the second day of battle, as the king was pondering what to do next, he received a windfall: a Malian Greek traitor named Ephialtes informed him of the mountain path around Thermopylae and offered to guide the Persian army through the pass.

    Last Stand at Thermopylae

    At daybreak on the third day, the Phocians guarding the path above Thermopylae became aware of the outflanking Persian column and retreated to a nearby hill to make their stand (assuming that the Persians had come to attack them).However, not wishing to be delayed, the Persians gave them a volley of arrows before passing by to continue with their encirclement of the main Allied force.

    The Greek position at Thermopylae, despite being massively out-numbered, was near-impregnable.If the position had been held for even slightly longer, the Persians may have had to retreat for lack of food and water.

    None of the Persians’ actions surprised Leonidas. From a variety of sources, he was kept appraised of their movements and received intelligence of the Persian outflanking movement before first light.  When he learned that the Phocians had not held, Leonidas called a council of war at dawn. Some of the Greeks argued for withdrawal, Leonidas and the Spartans had pledged themselves to fight to the death.

    After the council, most of the Greek forces chose to withdraw (without orders), or were ordered to leave by Leonidas (Herodotus admits that there is some doubt about which actually happened). The contingent of 700 Thespians, led by their general, refused to leave with the other Greeks but committed themselves to the fight and cast their lot with the Spartans. Also present were the 400 Thebans, and probably the helots that had accompanied the Spartans.

    At dawn Xerxes made libations. He paused to allow the Immortals sufficient time to descend the mountain and then ordered the advance.

    Knowing that death was imminent, the Greeks gave up the phalanx and charged forth from the wall to meet the Persians in the wider part of the pass in an attempt to slaughter as many as they could before dying. They fought with spears until every spear was shattered and then switched to xiphoi (short swords).  Those who were left without weapons continued to fight with their hands and teeth.

    Leonidas died in the assault, and the two sides fought over his body, with the Spartans taking possession.

    As the Immortals approached, the Allies withdrew and took a stand on Kolonos Hill, behind the wall. The Thebans deserted to the Persians and Xerxes later had them branded with his royal mark.

    Tearing down part of the wall, Xerxes ordered the hill surrounded, and the Persians rained down arrows until every last Greek was dead.

    Aftermath

    When the body of Leonidas was recovered by the Persians, Xerxes, in a rage at the loss of so many of his soldiers, ordered that the head be cut off and the body crucified. The Persians normally treated enemies that fought bravely against them with great honor, but Xerxes was given to fits of rage.

    Two Spartans survived the battle of Thermopylae:

    Pantites, who was sent away from the battle by Leonidas on a diplomatic mission to enlist the services of the other Greek city-states. He later hanged himself because of the shame and the dishonor bestowed upon him by his fellow Spartans who thought he had loitered long enough not to engage in battle; and Aristodemus, who suffered a severe eye inflammation that incapacitated him and was ordered back to Sparta with the retreating forces. He was labeled ‘The Trembler’ for not having fought and died with his fellow Spartans. Redemption for Aristodemus came the following year when he stood in the front line of the phalanx at the Battle of Plataea, broke rank, and killed numerous Persians before dying.

    With the pass opened, the Persians poured into Greece, burning and sacking cities on their way to the now-deserted Athens, which they burned to the ground.  When the battle moved to the sea, most of the Persian fleet was destroyed at the Battle of Salamis and Xerxes, fearful that his army would be trapped in Europe, retreated back to Asia leaving just a hand-picked force to complete conquest the following year.

    Nine months later, the Persians and Greeks (including the entire Spartan army, but still outnumbered 3 to 1) met once again in battle on the open terrain of Plataea, where the Greeks trounced the Persians and finally ended the invasion of Greece.

    The Spartans that died during the Battle of Thermopylae were buried on the hill where they fell, including Leonidas. A stone lion was erected to commemorate him, however, the custom was to return Spartan kings home for burial. Forty years after the battle, Leonidas’ body was returned to Sparta where he was buried again with full honors and funeral games were held every year in his memory.

    What Victory Means

    While the battle was technically won by the Persians, it was a great moral victory for the Greeks. It served to rally many Greek city states which, until that point, were wavering as to which side to support.  More importantly, Thermopylae served to demonstrate Spartan resolve and courage against overwhelming odds.

    Throughout the centuries, Thermopylae has served as an inspiring example  of what a small group of disciplined, tenacious free men are capable of accomplishing when country and freedom are at stake.

    Some argue that it may have changed the course of western civilization.

    At the very least, it begs the question:  What are you willing to sacrifice?

    “Go tell the Spartans,

    stranger passing by,

    that here, obedient to their laws, we lie”

    -- epigram at Thermopylae

    © 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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