The Laws of Lycurgus: How Sparta Was Made | A Tale from Ancient Greece

It was early morning in Sparta, and the dew still clung to the lush grasses on the hillsides of the Eurotas Valley. Along the main road leading out of this small, rustic town, a crowd had gathered. Men, women, and children, young and old, farmers, spinners, blacksmiths, and veterans of war, all were gathered that morning, and a quiet apprehension was in the air. As they looked on, a solitary figure made his way along the path, clutching a staff, almost disappearing from view over the rise. The people of Sparta had said their goodbyes to this man, their leader and lawgiver, and he had made good on his word to leave the city for a time, so they could determine their destinies for themselves. They didn't know if they would ever see him again, but the old man who faded from their view, the lawgiver Lycurgus, knew for sure they would not. It was centuries before the famous feats of Sparta's warrior elite against the Persians, and the city had yet to become the great power it would be. Much of Lycurgus's life was a mystery, even to the generations who came after him, as if he were a figure out of myth rather than history. But whatever his origins were, what he did for Sparta became legend, and the laws of Lycurgus would bind his people for ages to come. Equality, unity, justice, simplicity, physical toughness. These were the principles that had guided Lycurgus during his life as a civic leader, who saw he needed to shake the very foundations of the Spartan way of life. To put his nation on the path to greatness, to put an end to greed, selfishness, and the dominance of a select few, he transformed Sparta with radical new laws that made all citizens equal before the law, and in the eyes of each other. He had traveled all across the Mediterranean during his life, and even as far away as India he had broken bread with poets, rulers, and sages, all to determine the best way to organize a human community. And when he returned to Sparta, his time had come to write a new constitution, a set of reforms the Spartans would come to call the Great Retra, Lycurgus's proclamation. One of the first things he did was to divide the land into 40,000 small lots, each of them just big enough to keep a family supplied with barley, wine, or olive oil. There would be no vast estates for the rich, or tiny hovels for the poor. Everyone would be equal in their claim on the land, having neither too little nor too much. As for money itself, Spartans would use no gold or silver, only obols, crude unwieldy bars of iron. 30 pounds worth of iron currency would fill a room and need two strong oxen to carry it in a cart. No Spartan would become especially rich, because no one could hoard such wealth in a currency that hard to use. Their couches, tables, and beds would be carved from wood, plain looking, without expensive cushions or decorations. And the doors and ceilings of Spartan houses would be made of unpolished wood. Lycurgus's laws wouldn't let the people sit at home and eat their own private meals. They would come to public tables and enjoy dinner in the company of their fellow citizens. At each table about 15 people would sit, and everyone would make a monthly contribution to the public store of barley meal, wine, cheese, and figs, and some iron money to buy meat or fish. Spartan boys would have their hair cut short and went barefoot. As soldiers-in-training, they slept together in teams on rough beds made of reeds. They pulled themselves from the riverbanks. As an institution, their training came to be called the agogae, where they ran races, boxed and wrestled, learned the arts of war and deception, and became brothers-in-arms. Lycurgus's Sparta would be a nation of warriors, every man and equal in the line of battle, committed to their comrades and to Sparta. The girls would join together in sports too, running, wrestling, and throwing, because physical fitness would make for the strongest mothers of future heroes. Even from birth, Lycurgus's laws would make sure that the Spartans would be strong, even at the cost of human life. When babies were born, they would be judged for any defect, and left out to die if they didn't pass the test. The lawgiver was so confident in the physical strength and courage of the Spartans that he had the city walls torn down to the ground. Sparta's real walls, he said, were its people. These laws didn't come without a backlash. The rich disliked the harsh way in which Lycurgus was making them live and give up their resources. One day an angry crowd attacked him, and he had to find sanctuary on hallowed ground, in a temple of the gods. It so happened that a young man named Alcander joined this riot in the streets of Sparta, and when Lycurgus showed himself, Alcander hit him in the eye with a staff. Lycurgus didn't resist, and only stopped, then walked out among the people to show them his bleeding face. When they saw him, they were ashamed of themselves, and seized Alcander to bring him to Lycurgus. They told the lawgiver to punish Alcander any way he wish. In response, Lycurgus ordered him to come with him to his own house, and everyone, including Alcander, expected the worst. But instead, the old lawgiver ordered him to act as his servant, to grab things around the house for him, and wait on him while he worked or ate. And for days this went on, without a single unkind word ever spoken to Alcander. When Alcander finally went home, he told his friends how well he had been treated, and how noble he thought Lycurgus was. And Lycurgus had turned an enemy into an ally, and would make even more allies by a reputation for justice and generosity. When the old lawgiver felt himself getting on in years, he made up his mind to leave Sparta behind. This would be his last act, the end of his mission. He called them all together, and said to them, My friends, I am going to Delphi, to the oracle of the great god Apollo, to speak with him, and hear what he would say to me. But before I leave, I wish you all to promise me, leaders and common citizens alike, that until I return to you, you will keep faithfully all the laws I have made, and change none of them until you see me again. The people made their promise. Nothing would be altered until Lycurgus came back to them. And so on that misty morning in Sparta, Lycurgus said goodbye to his friends and his family, took up his staff and cloak, and set out for Apollo's mountain shrine in Delphi, as the townspeople watched him vanish into the distance. After a long journey, he made it to Delphi, and the oracle told him the answer to his final burning question, that the laws he had made for Sparta were good and useful. And Lycurgus never did return to his people, living out the rest of his years by himself in foreign lands. He did this for the sake of the land he loved, and just as he had planned, and the Spartans had pledged, they did not change his laws. Some say he died in one place, some in another. Some say he passed away on the island of Crete, and as he lay on his deathbed, he commanded those with him to burn his body and throw his ashes into the sea. And true to their word, they obeyed him. His remains were carried off by the waves, and even in death, no part of him could ever return to Sparta. Such was his confidence in the community he had made, and his trust in the Spartans, who would always respect and observe the laws of Lycurgus.