As a historian, much of my time and effort is spent cataloging the grand arcs of civilizations or spotlighting those brief, shining moments that feel Weighty and Important. After all, it’s not every day that Athens invents democracy or Sparta fights the Persians at Thermopylae. But that’s the thing—those big achievements stand out precisely for their rarity. While characters like them get top billing in historical stories, we often forget about everyone else: the hundreds of side characters and thousands of extras who were there the whole time, who comprise most of the human experience but never land in History’s spotlight. Today, I want to spotlight one of those side characters: Naxos.
Naxos, the largest island in the Cycladic archipelago, is perhaps the most vivid example of a history that doesn’t really go anywhere—and for that exact reason, I find it fascinating. So, to see what almost happened in little old Naxos, let’s do some history!
The Story of Marble
Written records about Naxos are sparse, so our most reliable narrator will be the island itself: the material culture left behind thousands of years ago, pieced together by archaeologists. The story of Naxos, as we understand it, is one big story of marble.
Naxos and neighboring Paros were known for their marble since the start of the Bronze Age around 3000 BC. The defining art of the Cycladic culture was marble figure statues in a gorgeously minimalist style. These early artworks look right at home in modern galleries but are among the earliest art in Greece. Naxian marble was prized for its nonporous nature, bright white hue, faint translucency, and a bit of sparkle, giving it a beautiful sense of depth in the light.
In addition to marble, Naxos quarried emery, a rock crushed into powder and used as an abrasive to polish stone to a silky-smooth shine. Between marble, emery, and talented sculptors, Naxos had a lock on the entire stonework industry—from rock, to sculpture, to polished product. This proved valuable for millennia.
Naxos in the Bronze Age and Beyond
As the largest and most centrally located island in the Cyclades, Naxos was influenced by Minoan and Mycenaean cultures in the latter Bronze Age. After the Bronze Age Collapse of the 1100s BC, Naxos recovered its role as a major player in the Cyclades, thanks to its size, placement, and local merchandise production. Once Greeks resumed long-distance trade during the Polis Age, Naxos "surpassed all the other islands in prosperity," according to Herodotus.
While we shouldn't trust Herodotus' claim completely, we can infer that Naxos was comfortably well-off. Naxos' public displays of wealth, such as the sculpted marble sphinx atop a 12-meter Ionic column at Delphi and a dozen marble lions at the sanctuary on Delos, confirm its prominence and affluence.
The Story of Lygdamis
Despite its impressive marble-working history and presence in significant moments of Hellenic history, one episode captures Naxos' story best: the tale of Lygdamis. In 546 BC, Peisistratus succeeded in his third attempt to become tyrant of Athens with help from fellow aristocrats, including Lygdamis of Naxos. Lygdamis provided soldiers for Peisistratus’ power-grab, and in return, Peisistratus installed or reinstalled Lygdamis as tyrant of Naxos.
Around 530 BC, Lygdamis embarked on a significant building program, including his Temple at Sangrí, constructed entirely of Naxian marble and featuring early Ionic columns. However, his crowning project, a massive temple to Apollo, was never completed. Overthrown by a Spartan army, Lygdamis' grand plans were abandoned. The temple's remnants, called The Portara, stand as a doorway to nothing but the sea and the sunset—a poignant depiction of unfulfilled potential.
The Forgotten Side Characters of History
The details we glean about Naxos from primary sources are included purely as scene-setting for larger narratives—an Athenian tyrant here, a Persian invasion there. The downfall of Lygdamis is vague because it doesn’t affect the wider story. Any deeper records that might have existed are long gone because they broadly didn’t matter.
I'm struck by how often this kind of story must have happened: someone shows up, thinks they’re the next Agamemnon, but flames out before accomplishing their centerpiece project, so their home city simply shrugs and moves on. If Athens and Sparta are the main characters, the rest of Greece looks a lot like this: a place of culture and meaning, but voiceless.
Naxos might’ve been about to have its moment in the sun, but just as the clouds were parting, the wind blew, the clouds closed back up—and 100 miles away, Athens had a sunny day instead. And Naxos would know; they saw it through their front door.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for the incredible support on my book, "The Veneziad." I’m blown away by the enthusiasm for it and excited to share production updates as the book gets moving. I cannot wait for you all to get it in your hands. Thanks as well to our patrons whose names are on screen right now, and I’ll see you all in the next article.