Sparta Before It Was Spartan
By Benji Ho
Ancient Sparta is seldom associated with the arts. As austerity was increasingly implemented into Spartan society, foreign influence, arts, and even individual thoughts were slowly phased out of the Spartan city state. By 570 BCE, foreign art disappeared from Sparta, and what local pottery remained was dominated by scenes of battle and hoplites. In the next 50 years, even local pottery would disappear, until by the mid 6th century, Sparta remained a philistine polis—a military state focused on the communal development of citizen-soldiers. All that remains of Spartan art are small, crudely fashioned lead hoplite dedications left as tokens at Sparta’s shrine of Artemis. It is no surprise that no major thinkers came from Sparta despite the intellectual wave that swept across Ancient Greek city-states.
What internal writings do remain provide us with a tantalizing glimpse into the development of a nascent military state, especially from the time when Sparta was first becoming a military state. They portray a city in the process of subsuming the individuality of its citizens through strict laws and rigorous training to form a powerful, disciplined military unit. One author in particular, Tyrtaeus of Sparta, has given us a multifaceted image through his various elegies, poems written as couplets with a unique metrical pattern.1 Tyrtaeus in particular was known for his writings on the grim reality of the hoplite, burdened by duty and the threat of shame and punishment. However, one elegy, number 12, dubbed “Come join the Spartan Army”2 by historians, stands out among these writings as particularly upbeat and glorifying in a time of civil war.
The poet begins by elaborating on the nature of arete—excellence. For Tyrtaeus, arete lies not in the man with the “size and strength of the Cyclopes” or one who acts as “kingly as Pelops, son of Tantalus”; rather, the excellent man is one who can “stand firm and remain unmoved in the front rank…and with words encourage the man standing beside him”. In his rejection of the qualities of mythical characters, like the monstrous Cyclopes or Pelops, one of Greece’s greatest mythical founding-king, Tyrtaeus represents a shift away from valor in one-on-one combat—the kind seen by Achilles in the great Trojan War epic. Rather, Tyrtaeus’s poetry embraces a new sort of valor—one defined by the unflinching soldier who works with his fellow countrymen to form an unyielding line to protect his state.
The tone of the poem then shifts toward celebratory, as Tyrtaeus begins to detail the great honors--kleos—that await such an excellent soldier. For a soldier who falls while possessing such valor, “the whole city is filled with sad longing…Never has fame forgotten a brave man or his name.” And Tyrtaeus declares that for any man who fights with arete and returns home alive, “he is honored by all, young and old alike.” What is unique about this poem is the way that it highly valorizes individual glory. Sparta was known for its military activity, but also for its military discipline. Such a focus on individual glory in a state filled with soldiers seems out of place.3
In this light, it is important to note that scholars estimate that this poem was written during the Second Messenian War, an internal revolt by a conquered territory that Sparta struggled to quash. While Tyrtaeus’ uplifting words might appeal to those unseasoned in war, jaded war veterans, having seen the horrors of the battlefield, would find little meaning in the optimistic tone.2 Instead, scholars look to the last lines of the poem to illuminate its purpose: “Let everyone strive now with all his heart to reach the pinnacle of this excellence, with no slackening in war!”. These final words, which read best as a call to arms, provide scholars with a new reading of this poem: at a time when the Spartan army was struggling to quell internal riot, this poem, with its idealization of war and promise of glory, could have served as state propaganda to recruit new soldiers.
If we follow through on this new reading, then Tyrtaeus’ 12th elegy provides us with insight into a Sparta different from the highly militarized communal state. Through Tyrtaeus’ poetry, we see a new Sparta—one developing into the philistine polis but struggling with internal dissent, one that is not yet renowned for its military supremacy. But even more, Tyrtaeus’ poetry also provides us glimpse at the rise of Archaic Greece—one rising from the ashes of the Dark Ages and developing a new identity, one of hoplite warfare, of new forms of poetry like the elegy, and of city states like Sparta and Athens. It is through these little glimpses of writing that we begin to understand how great civilizations came to rise.
References
1. Barron, J.P., Easterling, P.E., Knox, B.M.W., 1985. Elegy and iambus [WWW Document]. The Cambridge History of Classical Literature. https://doi.org/10.1017/CHOL9780521210423.006
2. Luginbill, R.D., 2002. Tyrtaeus 12 West: Come Join the Spartan Army. The Classical Quarterly 52, 405–414.
3. Shey, H.J., 1976. TYRTAEUS AND THE ART OF PROPAGANDA. Arethusa 9, 5–28.
Ancient Sparta is seldom associated with the arts. As austerity was increasingly implemented into Spartan society, foreign influence, arts, and even individual thoughts were slowly phased out of the Spartan city state. By 570 BCE, foreign art disappeared from Sparta, and what local pottery remained was dominated by scenes of battle and hoplites. In the next 50 years, even local pottery would disappear, until by the mid 6th century, Sparta remained a philistine polis—a military state focused on the communal development of citizen-soldiers. All that remains of Spartan art are small, crudely fashioned lead hoplite dedications left as tokens at Sparta’s shrine of Artemis. It is no surprise that no major thinkers came from Sparta despite the intellectual wave that swept across Ancient Greek city-states.
What internal writings do remain provide us with a tantalizing glimpse into the development of a nascent military state, especially from the time when Sparta was first becoming a military state. They portray a city in the process of subsuming the individuality of its citizens through strict laws and rigorous training to form a powerful, disciplined military unit. One author in particular, Tyrtaeus of Sparta, has given us a multifaceted image through his various elegies, poems written as couplets with a unique metrical pattern.1 Tyrtaeus in particular was known for his writings on the grim reality of the hoplite, burdened by duty and the threat of shame and punishment. However, one elegy, number 12, dubbed “Come join the Spartan Army”2 by historians, stands out among these writings as particularly upbeat and glorifying in a time of civil war.
The poet begins by elaborating on the nature of arete—excellence. For Tyrtaeus, arete lies not in the man with the “size and strength of the Cyclopes” or one who acts as “kingly as Pelops, son of Tantalus”; rather, the excellent man is one who can “stand firm and remain unmoved in the front rank…and with words encourage the man standing beside him”. In his rejection of the qualities of mythical characters, like the monstrous Cyclopes or Pelops, one of Greece’s greatest mythical founding-king, Tyrtaeus represents a shift away from valor in one-on-one combat—the kind seen by Achilles in the great Trojan War epic. Rather, Tyrtaeus’s poetry embraces a new sort of valor—one defined by the unflinching soldier who works with his fellow countrymen to form an unyielding line to protect his state.
The tone of the poem then shifts toward celebratory, as Tyrtaeus begins to detail the great honors--kleos—that await such an excellent soldier. For a soldier who falls while possessing such valor, “the whole city is filled with sad longing…Never has fame forgotten a brave man or his name.” And Tyrtaeus declares that for any man who fights with arete and returns home alive, “he is honored by all, young and old alike.” What is unique about this poem is the way that it highly valorizes individual glory. Sparta was known for its military activity, but also for its military discipline. Such a focus on individual glory in a state filled with soldiers seems out of place.3
In this light, it is important to note that scholars estimate that this poem was written during the Second Messenian War, an internal revolt by a conquered territory that Sparta struggled to quash. While Tyrtaeus’ uplifting words might appeal to those unseasoned in war, jaded war veterans, having seen the horrors of the battlefield, would find little meaning in the optimistic tone.2 Instead, scholars look to the last lines of the poem to illuminate its purpose: “Let everyone strive now with all his heart to reach the pinnacle of this excellence, with no slackening in war!”. These final words, which read best as a call to arms, provide scholars with a new reading of this poem: at a time when the Spartan army was struggling to quell internal riot, this poem, with its idealization of war and promise of glory, could have served as state propaganda to recruit new soldiers.
If we follow through on this new reading, then Tyrtaeus’ 12th elegy provides us with insight into a Sparta different from the highly militarized communal state. Through Tyrtaeus’ poetry, we see a new Sparta—one developing into the philistine polis but struggling with internal dissent, one that is not yet renowned for its military supremacy. But even more, Tyrtaeus’ poetry also provides us glimpse at the rise of Archaic Greece—one rising from the ashes of the Dark Ages and developing a new identity, one of hoplite warfare, of new forms of poetry like the elegy, and of city states like Sparta and Athens. It is through these little glimpses of writing that we begin to understand how great civilizations came to rise.
References
1. Barron, J.P., Easterling, P.E., Knox, B.M.W., 1985. Elegy and iambus [WWW Document]. The Cambridge History of Classical Literature. https://doi.org/10.1017/CHOL9780521210423.006
2. Luginbill, R.D., 2002. Tyrtaeus 12 West: Come Join the Spartan Army. The Classical Quarterly 52, 405–414.
3. Shey, H.J., 1976. TYRTAEUS AND THE ART OF PROPAGANDA. Arethusa 9, 5–28.
