overlooked the city, and from which could be seen the distant sea. At
its right stood the Acropolis, that famous hill on which the noblest of
temples were afterwards built. Between these two hills rose the
Areopagus, on which the Athenian supreme court held its sessions. The
Athenians loved to do their business in the open air, and, while
discussing questions of law and justice, delighted in the broad view
before them of the temples, the streets, and the crowded marts of trade
of the city, and the shining sea, with its white-sailed craft, afar in
the sunny distance.
Solon's laws went further than we have said. He divided the people into
four ranks or divisions, according to their wealth in land. The richer
men were, the more power they were given in the state. But at the same
time they had to pay heavier taxes, so that their greater authority was
not an unmixed blessing. The lowest class, composed of the poorest
citizens, had no taxes at all to pay, and no power in the state, other
than the right to vote in the assembly. When called out as soldiers arms
were furnished them, while the other classes had to buy their own arms.
Various other laws were made by Solon. The old law against crime,
established long before by Draco, had made death the penalty for every
crime, from murder to petty theft. This severe law was repealed, and the
punishment made to agree with the crime. Minor laws were these: The
living could not speak evil of the dead. No person could draw more than
a fixed quantity of water daily from the public wells. People who raised
bees must not have their hives too near those of their neighbors. It was
fixed how women should dress, and they were forbidden to scratch or tear
themselves at funerals. They had to carry baskets of a fixed size when
they went abroad. A dog that bit anybody had to be delivered up with a
log four feet and a half long tied to its neck. Such were some of the
laws which the council swore to maintain, each member vowing that if he
broke any of them he would dedicate a golden statue as large as himself
to Apollo, at Delphi.
Having founded his laws, Solon, fearing that he would be forced to make
changes in them, left Athens, having bound the people by oath to keep
them for ten years, during which time he proposed to be absent.
From Athens he set sail for Egypt, and in that ancient realm talked long
with two learned priests about the old history of the land. Among the
stories they told him was a curious one about a great island named
Atlantis, far in the western ocean, against which Athens had waged war
nine thousand years before, and which had afterwards sunk under the
Atlantic's waves. It was one of those fanciful legends of which the past
had so great a store.
From Egypt he went to Cyprus, where he dwelt long and made useful
changes. He is also said to have visited, at Sardis, Croesus, the king
of Lydia, a monarch famous for his wealth and good fortune. About this
visit a pretty moral story is told. It is probably not true, being a
fiction of the ancient story-tellers, but, fiction or not, it is well
worth the telling.
Croesus had been so fortunate in war that he had made his kingdom
great and prosperous, while he was esteemed the richest monarch of his
times. He lodged Solon in his palace and had his servants show him all
the treasures which he had gained. He then, conversing with his visitor,
praised him for his wisdom, and asked him whom he deemed to be the
happiest of men.
He expected an answer flattering to his vanity, but Solon simply
replied,--
"Tellus, of Athens."
"And why do you deem Tellus the happiest?" demanded Croesus.
Solon gave as his reason that Tellus lived in comfort and had good and
beautiful sons, who also had good children; and that he died in gallant
defence of his country, and was buried by his countrymen with the
highest honors.
"And whom do you give the second place in happiness?" asked Croesus.
"Cleobis and Bito," answered Solon. "These were men of the Argive race,
who had fortune enough for their wants, and were so strong as to gain
prizes at the Games."
"But their special title to happiness was," continued Solon, "that in a
festival to the goddess Juno, at Argos, their mother wished to go in a
car. As the oxen did not return in time from the fields, the youths,
fearing to be late, yoked themselves to the car, and drew their mother
to the temple, forty-five furlongs away. This filial deed gained them
the highest praise from the people, while their mother prayed the
goddess to bestow upon them the highest blessing to which mortals can
attain. After her prayer, the youths offered sacrifices, partook of the
holy banquet, and fell asleep in the temple. They never woke again! This
was the blessing of the goddess."
"What," cried Croesus, angrily, "is my happiness, then, of so little
value to you that you put me on a level with private men like these?"
"You are very rich, Croesus," answered Solon, "and are lord of many
nations. But remember that you have many days yet to live, and that any
single day in a man's life may yield events that will change all his
fortune. As to whether you are supremely happy and fortunate, then, I
have no answer to make. I cannot speak for your happiness till I know if
your life has a happy _ending_."[1]
Solon, having completed his travels, returned to Athens to find it in
turmoil. Pisistratus, a political adventurer and a favorite with the
people, had gained despotic power by a cunning trick. He wounded
himself, and declared that he had been attacked and wounded by his
political enemies. He asked, therefore, for a body-guard for his
protection. This was granted him by the popular assembly, which was
strongly on his side. With its aid he seized the Acropolis and made
himself master of the city, while his opponents were forced to fly for
their lives.
This revolutionary movement was strenuously opposed by Solon, but in
vain. Pisistratus had made himself so popular with the people that they
treated their old law-giver like a man who had lost his senses. As a
last appeal he put on his armor and placed himself before the door of
his house, as if on guard as a sentinel over the liberties of his
country! This appeal was also in vain.
"I have done my duty!" he exclaimed; "I have sustained to the best of my
power my country and the laws."
He refused to fly, saying, when asked on what he relied for protection,
"On my old age."
Pisistratus--who proved a very mild despot--left his aged opponent
unharmed, and in the next year Solon died, being then eighty years of
age.
His laws lived after him, despite the despotism which ruled over Athens
for the succeeding fifty years.
_THE FORTUNE OF CROESUS._
The land of the Hellenes, or Greeks, was not confined to the small
peninsula now known as Greece. Hellenic colonies spread far to the east
and the west, to Italy and Sicily on the one hand, to Asia Minor and the
shores of the Black Sea on the other. The story of the Argonauts
probably arose from colonizing expeditions to the Black Sea. That of
Croesus has to do with the colonies in Asia Minor.
These colonies clung to the coast. Inland lay other nations, to some
extent of Hellenic origin. One of these was the kingdom of Lydia, whose
history is of the highest importance to us, since the conflicts between
Lydia and the coast colonies were the first steps towards the invasion
of Greece by the Persians, that most important event in early Grecian
history.
These conflicts began in the reign of Croesus, an ambitious king of
Lydia in the sixth century before Christ. What gave rise to the war
between Lydia and the Greek settlements of Ionia and AEolia we do not
very well know. An ambitious despot does not need much pretext for war.
He wills the war, and the pretext follows. It will suffice to say that,
on one excuse or another, Croesus made war on every Ionian and AEolian
state, and conquered them one after the other.
First the great and prosperous city of Ephesus fell. Then, one by one,
others followed, till, by the year 550 B.C., Croesus had become lord
and master of every one of those formerly free and wealthy cities and
states. Then, having placed all the colonies on the mainland under
tribute, he designed to conquer the islands as well, and proposed to
build ships for that purpose. He was checked in this plan by the shrewd
answer of one of the seven wise men of Greece, either Bias or Pittacus,
who had visited Sardis, the capital of Lydia.
"What news bring you from Greece?" asked King Croesus of his wise
visitor.
"I am told that the islanders are gathering ten thousand horse, with the
purpose of attacking you and your capital," was the answer.
"What!" cried Croesus. "Have the gods given these shipmen such an idea
as to fight the Lydians with cavalry?"
"I fancy, O king," answered the Greek, "that nothing would please you
better than to catch these islanders here on horseback. But do you not
think that they would like nothing better than to catch you at sea on
shipboard? Would they not avenge on you the misfortunes of their
conquered brethren?"
This shrewd suggestion taught Croesus a lesson. Instead of fighting
the islanders, he made a treaty of peace and friendship with them. But
he continued his conquests on the mainland till in the end all Asia
Minor was under his sway, and Lydia had become one of the great
kingdoms of the earth. Such wealth came to Croesus as a result of his
conquests and unchanging good fortune that he became accounted the
richest monarch upon the earth, while Sardis grew marvellous for its
splendor and prosperity. At an earlier date there had come thither
another of the seven wise men of Greece, Solon, the law-giver of Athens.
What passed between this far-seeing visitor and the proud monarch of
Lydia we have already told.
The misfortunes which Solon told the king were liable to come upon any
man befell Croesus during the remainder of his life. Herodotus, the
historian, tells us the romantic story of how the gods sent misery to
him who had boasted overmuch of his happiness. We give briefly this
interesting account.
Croeus had two sons, one of whom was deaf and dumb, the other, Atys by
name, gifted with the highest qualities which nature has to bestow. The
king loved his bright and handsome son as dearly as he loved his wealth,
and when a dream came to him that Atys would die by the blow of an iron
weapon, he was deeply disturbed in his mind.
How should he prevent such a misfortune? In alarm, he forbade his son to
take part in military forays, to which he had before encouraged him;
and, to solace him for this deprivation, bade him to take a wife. Then,
lest any of the warlike weapons which hung upon the walls of his
apartments might fall and wound him, the king had them all removed, and
stored away in the part of the palace devoted to the women.
But fate had decreed that all such precautions should be in vain. At
Mount Olympus, in Mysia, had appeared a monster boar, that ravaged the
fields of the lowlands and defied pursuit into his mountain retreat.
Hunting parties were sent against him, but the great boar came off
unscathed, while the hunters always suffered from his frightful tusks.
At length ambassadors were sent to Croesus, begging him to send his
son, with other daring youths and with hunting hounds, to aid them rid
their country of this destructive brute.
"That cannot be," answered Croesus, still in terror from his dream.
"My son is just married, and cannot so soon leave his bride. But I will
send you a picked band of hunters, and bid them use all zeal to kill
this foe of your harvests."
With this promise the Mysians were quite content, but Atys, who
overheard it, was not.
"Why, my father," he demanded, "do you now keep me from the wars and the
chase, when you formerly encouraged me to take part in them, and win
glory for myself and you? Have I ever shown cowardice or lack of manly
spirit? What must the citizens or my young bride think of me? With what
face can I show myself in the forum? Either you must let me go to the
chase of this boar, or give a reason why you keep me at home."
In reply Croesus told the indignant youth of his vision, and the alarm
with which it had inspired him.
"Ah!" cried Atys, "then I cannot blame you for keeping this tender watch
over me. But, father, do you not wrongly interpret the dream? It said I
was to die stricken by an iron weapon. A boar wields no such weapon.
Had the dream said I was to die pierced by a tusk, then you might well
be alarmed; but it said a weapon. We do not propose now to fight men,
but to hunt a wild beast I pray you, therefore, let me go with the
party."
"You have the best of me there," said Croesus. "Your interpretation of
the dream is better than mine. You may go, my son."
At that time there was at the king's court a Phrygian named Adrastus,
who had unwittingly slain his own brother and had fled to Sardis, where
he was purified according to the customs of the country, and courteously
received by the king. Croesus sent for this stranger and asked him to
go with the hunting party, and keep especial watch over his son, in case
of an attack by some daring band of robbers.
Adrastus consented, though against his will, his misfortune having taken
from him all desire for scenes of bloodshed. However, he would do his
utmost to guard the king's son against harm.
The party set out accordingly, reached Olympus without adventure, and
scattered in pursuit of the animal, which the dogs soon roused from its
lair. Closing in a circle around the brute, the hunters drew near and
hurled their weapons at it. Not the least eager among the hunters was
Adrastus, who likewise hurled his spear; but, through a frightful
chance, the hurtling weapon went astray, and struck and killed Atys, his
youthful charge. Thus was the dream fulfilled: an iron weapon had slain
the king's favorite son.
The news of this misfortune plunged Croesus into the deepest misery
of grief. As for Adrastus, he begged to be sacrificed at the grave of
his unfortunate victim. This Croesus, despite his grief, refused,
saying,--
"Some god is the author of my misfortune, not you. I was forewarned of
it long ago."
But Adrastus was not to be thus prevented. Deeming himself the most
unfortunate of men, he slew himself on the tomb of the hapless youth.
And for two years Croesus abandoned himself to grief.
And now we must go on to tell how Croesus met with a greater
misfortune still, and brought the Persians to the gates of Greece.
Cyrus, son of Cambyses, king of Persia, had conquered the neighboring
kingdom of Media, and, inspired by ambition, had set out on a career of
wide-spread conquest and dominion. He had grown steadily more powerful,
and now threatened the great kingdom which Croesus had gained.
The Lydian king, seeing this danger approaching, sought advice from the
oracles. But wishing first to know which of them could best be trusted,
he sent to six of them demanding a statement of what he was doing at a
certain moment. The oracle of Delphi alone gave a correct answer.
Thereupon Croesus offered up a vast sacrifice to the Delphian deity.
Three thousand oxen were slain, and a great sacrificial pile was built,
on which were placed splendid robes and tunics of purple, with couches
and censers of gold and silver, all to be committed to the flames. To
Delphi he sent presents befitting the wealthiest of kings,--ingots,
statues, bowls, jugs, etc., of gold and silver, of great weight. These
Herodotus himself saw with astonishment a century afterwards at Delphi.
The envoys who bore these gifts asked the oracle whether Croesus
should undertake an expedition against the Persians, and should solicit
allies.
He was bidden, in reply, to seek alliance with the most powerful nations
of Greece. He was also told that if he fought with the Persians he would
overturn a "mighty empire." Croesus accepted this as a promise of
success, not thinking to ask whose empire was to be overturned. He sent
again to the oracle, which now replied, "When a mule shall become king
of the Medes, then thou must run away,--be not ashamed." Here was
another enigma of the oracle. Cyrus--son of a royal Median mother and a
Persian father of different race and lower position--was the mule
indicated, though Croesus did not know this. In truth, the oracles of
Greece seem usually to have borne a double meaning, so that whatever
happened the priestess could claim that her word was true, the fault was
in the interpretation.
Croesus, accepting the oracles as favorable, made an alliance with
Sparta, and marched his army into Media, where he inflicted much damage.
Cyrus met him with a larger army, and a battle ensued. Neither party
could claim a victory, but Croesus returned to Sardis, to collect more
men and obtain aid from his allies. He might have been successful had
Cyrus waited till his preparations were complete. But the Persian king
followed him to his capital, defeated him in a battle near Sardis, and
besieged him in that city.
Sardis was considered impregnable, and Croesus could easily have held
out till his allies arrived had it not been for one of those unfortunate
incidents of which war has so many to tell. Sardis was strongly
fortified on every side but one. Here the rocky height on which it was
built was so steep as to be deemed inaccessible, and walls were thought
unnecessary. Yet a soldier of the garrison made his way down this
precipice to pick up his helmet, which had fallen. A Persian soldier saw
him, tried to climb up, and found it possible. Others followed him, and
the garrison, to their consternation, found the enemy within their
walls. The gates were opened to the army without, and the whole city was
speedily taken by storm.
Croesus would have been killed but for a miracle. His deaf and dumb
son, seeing a Persian about to strike him down, burst into speech
through the agony of terror, crying out, "Man, do not kill Croesus!"
The story goes that he ever afterwards retained the power of speech.
Cyrus had given orders that the life of Croesus should be spared, and
the unhappy captive was brought before him. But the cruel Persian had a
different death in view. He proposed to burn the captive king, together
with fourteen Lydian youths, on a great pile of wood which he had
constructed. We give what followed as told by Herodotus, though its
truth cannot be vouched for at this late day.
As Croesus lay in fetters on the already kindled pile and thought of
this terrible ending to his boasted happiness, he groaned bitterly, and
cried in tones of anguish, "Solon! Solon! Solon!"
"What does he mean?" asked Cyrus of the interpreters. They questioned
Croesus, and learned from him what Solon had said. Cyrus heard this
story not without alarm. His own life was yet to end; might not a like
fate come to him? He ordered that the fire should be extinguished, but
would have been too late had not a timely downpour of rain just then
come to the aid of the captive king,--sent by Apollo, in gratitude for
the gifts to his temple, suggests Herodotus. Croesus was afterwards
made the confidential friend and adviser of the Persian king, whose
dominions, through this victory, had been extended over the whole Lydian
empire, and now reached to the ocean outposts of Greece.
_THE SUITORS OF AGARISTE._
Sicyon, the smallest country of the Peloponnesus, lay on the Gulf of
Corinth, adjoining the isthmus which connects the peninsula with the
rest of Greece. In this small country--as in many larger ones--the
nobles held rule, the people were subjects. The rich and proud rulers
dwelt on the hill slopes, the poor and humble people lived on the
sea-shore and along the river Asopus. But in course of time many of the
people became well off, through success in fisheries and commerce, to
which their country was well adapted. Weary of the oppression of the
nobles, they finally rose in rebellion and overthrew the government.
Orthagoras, once a cook, but now leader of the rebels, became master of
the state, and he and his descendants ruled it for a hundred years. The
last of this dynasty was Cleisthenes, a just and moderate ruler,
concerning whom we have a story to tell.
These lords of the state were called tyrants; but this word did not mean
in Greece what it means to us. The tyrants of Greece were popular
leaders who had overthrown the old governments and laws, and ruled
largely through force and under laws of their own making. But they were
not necessarily tyrannical. The tyrants of Athens were mild and just in
their dealings with the people, and so proved to be those of Sicyon.
[Illustration: GRECIAN LADIES AT HOME.]
Cleisthenes, who became the most eminent of the tyrants of Sicyon, had a
beautiful daughter, named Agariste, whom he thought worthy of the
noblest of husbands, and decided that she should be married to the
worthiest youth who could be found in all the land of Greece. To select
such a husband he took unusual steps.
When the fair Agariste had reached marriageable age, her father attended
the Olympic games, at which there were used to gather men of wealth and
eminence from all the Grecian states. Here he won the prize in the
chariot race, and then bade the heralds to make the following
proclamation:
"Whoever among the Greeks deems himself worthy to be the son-in-law of
Cleisthenes, let him come, within sixty days, to Sicyon. Within a year
from that time Cleisthenes will decide, from among those who present
themselves, on the one whom he deems fitting to possess the hand of his
daughter."
This proclamation, as was natural, roused warm hopes in many youthful
breasts, and within the sixty days there had gathered at Sicyon thirteen
noble claimants for the charming prize. From the city of Sybaris in
Italy came Smindyrides, and from Siris came Damasus. Amphimnestus and
Males made their way to Sicyon from the cities of the Ionian Gulf. The
Peloponnesus sent Leocedes from Argos, Amiantus from Arcadia, Laphanes
from Paeus, and Onomastus from Elis. From Euboea came Lysanias; from
Thessaly, Diactorides; from Molossia, Alcon; and from Attica, Megacles
and Hippoclides. Of the last two, Megacles was the son of the renowned
Alkmaeon, while Hippoclides was accounted the handsomest and wealthiest
of the Athenians.
At the end of the sixty days, when all the suitors had arrived,
Cleisthenes asked each of them whence he came and to what family he
belonged. Then, during the succeeding year, he put them to every test
that could prove their powers. He had had a foot-course and a
wrestling-ground made ready to test their comparative strength and
agility, and took every available means to discover their courage,
vigor, and skill.
But this was not all that the sensible monarch demanded in his desired
son-in-law. He wished to ascertain their mental and moral as well as
their physical powers, and for this purpose kept them under close
observation for a year, carefully noting their manliness, their temper
and disposition, their accomplishments and powers of intellect. Now he
conversed with each separately; now he brought them together and
considered their comparative powers. At the gymnasium, in the council
chamber, in all the situations of thought and activity, he tested their
abilities. But he particularly considered their behavior at the
banquet-table. From first to last they were sumptuously entertained, and
their demeanor over the trencher-board and the wine-cup was closely
observed.
In this story, as told us by garrulous old Herodotus, nothing is said of
Agariste herself. In a modern romance of this sort the lady would have
had a voice in the decision and a place in the narrative. There would
have been episodes of love, jealousy, and malice, and the one whom the
lady blessed with her love would in some way--in the eternal fitness of
things--have become victor in the contest and carried off the prize. But
they did things differently in Greece. The preference of the maiden had
little to do with the matter; the suitor exerted himself to please the
father, not the daughter; maiden hands were given rather in barter and
sale than in trust and affection; in truth, almost the only lovers we
meet with in Grecian history are Haemon and Antigone, of whom we have
spoken in the tale of the "Seven against Thebes."
And thus it was in the present instance. It was the father the suitors
courted, not the daughter. They proved their love over the
banquet-table, not at the trysting-place. It was by speed of foot and
skill in council, not by whispered words of devotion, that they
contended for the maidenly prize. Or, if lovers' meetings took place and
lovers' vows were passed, they were matters of the strictest secrecy,
and not for Greek historians to put on paper or Greek ears to hear.