suitors the two from Athens most won the favor of Cleisthenes. And of
the two he preferred Hippoclides. It was not alone for his handsome face
and person and manly bearing that this favored youth was chosen, but
also because he was descended from a noble family of Corinth which
Cleisthenes esteemed. Yet "there is many a slip between the cup and the
lip," an adage whose truth Hippoclides was to learn.
When the day came on which the choice of the father was to be made, and
the wedding take place, Cleisthenes held a great festival in honor of
the occasion. First, to gain the favor of the gods, he offered a hundred
oxen in sacrifice. Then, not only the suitors, but all the people of the
city were invited to a grand banquet and festival, at the end of which
the choice of Cleisthenes was to be declared. What torments of love and
fear Agariste suffered during this slow-moving feast the historian does
not say. Yet it may be that she was the power behind the throne, and
that the proposed choice of the handsome Hippoclides was due as much to
her secret influence as to her father's judgment.
However this be, the feast went on to its end, and was followed by a
contest between the suitors in music and oratory, with all the people to
decide. As the drinking which followed went on, Hippoclides, who had
surpassed all the others as yet, shouted to the flute-player, bidding
him to play a dancing air, as he proposed to show his powers in the
dance.
The wine was in his weak head, and what he considered marvellously fine
dancing did not appear so to Cleisthenes, who was closely watching his
proposed son-in-law. Hippoclides, however, in a mood to show all his
accomplishments, now bade an attendant to bring in a table. This being
brought, he leaped upon it, and danced some Laconian steps, which he
followed by certain Attic ones. Finally, to show his utmost powers of
performance, he stood on his head on the table, and began to dance with
his legs in empty air.
This was too much for Cleisthenes. He had changed his opinion of
Hippoclides during his light and undignified exhibition, but restrained
himself from speaking to avoid any outbreak or ill feeling. But on
seeing him tossing his legs in this shameless manner in the air, the
indignant monarch cried out,--
"Son of Tisander, you have danced your wife away."
"What does Hippoclides care?" was the reply of the tipsy youth.
And for centuries afterwards "What does Hippoclides care?" was a common
saying in Greece, to indicate reckless folly and lightness of mind.
Cleisthenes now commanded silence, and spoke as follows to the assembly:
"Suitors of my daughter, well pleased am I with you all, and right
willingly, if it were possible, would I content you all, and not, by
making choice of one, appear to put a slight upon the rest. But as it is
out of my power, seeing that I have only one daughter, to grant to all
their wishes, I will present to each of you whom I must needs dismiss a
talent of silver[2] for the honor that you have done in seeking to ally
yourselves with my house, and for your long absence from your homes. But
my daughter Agariste I betroth to Megacles, the son of Alkmaeon, to be
his wife, according to the usage and wont of Athens."
Megacles gladly accepted the honor thus offered him, the marriage was
solemnized with all possible state, and the suitors dispersed,--twelve
of them happy with their silver talents, one of them happier with his
charming bride.
We have but further to say that Cleisthenes of Athens--a great leader
and law-giver, whose laws gave origin to the democratic government of
that city--was the son of Megacles and Agariste, and that his grandson
was the famous Pericles, the foremost name in Athenian history.
_THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH._
We have already told what the word "tyrant" meant in Greece,--a despot
who set aside the law and ruled at his own pleasure, but who might be
mild and gentle in his rule. Such were the tyrants of Sicyon, spoken of
in our last tale. The tyrants of Corinth, the state adjoining Sicyon,
were of a harsher character. Herodotus, the gossiping old historian
tells some stories about these severe despots which seem worth telling
again.
The government of Corinth, like most of the governments of Greece, was
in early days an oligarchy,--that is, it was ruled by a number of
powerful aristocrats instead of by a single king. In Corinth these
belonged to a single family, named the Bacchiadae (or legendary
descendants of the god Bacchus), who constantly intermarried, and kept
all power to themselves.
But one of this family, Amphion by name, had a daughter, named Labda,
whom none of the Bacchiadae would marry, as she had the misfortune to be
lame. So she married outside the family, her husband being named Aetion,
and a man of noble descent. Having no children, Aetion applied to the
Delphian oracle, and was told that a son would soon be borne to him,
and that this son "would, like a rock, fall on the kingly race and right
the city of Corinth."
The Bacchiadae heard of this oracle, and likewise knew of an earlier one
that had the same significance. Forewarned is forearmed. They remained
quiet, waiting until Aetion's child should be born, and proposing then
to take steps for their own safety.
When, therefore, they heard that Labda had borne a son, they sent ten of
their followers to Petra (the _rock_), where Aetion dwelt, with
instructions to kill the child. These assassins entered Aetion's house,
and, with murder in their hearts, asked Labda, with assumed
friendliness, if they might see her child. She, looking upon them as
friends of her husband, whom kindly feeling had brought thither, gladly
complied, and, bringing the infant, laid it in the arms of one of the
ruffianly band.
It had been agreed between them that whoever first laid hold of the
child should dash it to the ground. But as the innocent intended victim
lay in the murderer's arms, it smiled in his face so confidingly that he
had not the heart to do the treacherous deed. He passed the child,
therefore, on to another, who passed it to a third, and so it went the
rounds of the ten, disarming them all by its happy and trusting smile
from performing the vile deed for which they had come. In the end they
handed the babe back to its mother, and left the house.
Halting just outside the door, a hot dispute arose between them, each
blaming the others, and nine of them severely accusing the one whose
task it had been to do the cruel deed. He defended himself, saying that
no man with a heart in his breast could have done harm to that smiling
babe,--certainly not he. In the end they decided to go into the house
again, and all take part in the murder.
But they had talked somewhat too long and too loud. Labda had overheard
them and divined their dread intent. Filled with fear, lest they should
return and murder her child, she seized the infant, and, looking eagerly
about for some place in which she might conceal it, chose a _cypsel_, or
corn-bin, as the place least likely to be searched.
Her choice proved a wise one. The men returned, and, as she refused to
tell them where the child was, searched the house in vain,--none of them
thinking of looking for an infant in a corn-bin. At length they went
away, deciding to report that they had done as they were bidden, and
that the child of Aetion was slain.
The boy, in memory of his escape, was named _Cypselus_, after the
corn-bin. He grew up without further molestation, and on coming to man's
estate did what so many of the ancients seemed to have considered
necessary, went to Delphi to consult the oracle.
The pythoness, or priestess of Apollo, at his approach, hailed him as
king of Corinth. "He and his children, but not his children's children."
And the oracle, as was often the case, produced its own accomplishment,
for it encouraged Cypselus to head a rebellion against the oligarchy, by
which it was overthrown and he made king. For thirty years thereafter he
reigned as tyrant of Corinth, with a prosperous but harsh rule. Many of
the Corinthians were put to death by him, others robbed of their
fortunes, and others banished the state. Then he died and left the
government to his son Periander.
Periander began his reign in a mild spirit. But his manner changed after
he had sent a herald to Thrasybulus, the tyrant of Miletus, asking his
advice how he could best rule with honor and fortune. Thrasybulus led
the messenger outside the city and through a field of corn, questioning
him as they walked, while, whenever he came to an ear of corn that
overtopped its fellows, he broke it off and threw it aside. Thus his
path through the field was marked by the downfall of all the tallest
stems and ears. Then, returning to the city, he sent the messenger back
without a word of answer to his petition.
Periander, on his herald's return, asked him what counsel he brought.
"None," was the answer; "not a word. King Thrasybulus acted in the
strangest way, destroying his corn as he led me through the field, and
sending me away without a word." He proceeded to tell how the monarch
had acted.
Periander was quick to gather his brother tyrant's meaning. If he would
rule in safety he must cut off the loftiest heads,--signified by the
tall ears of corn. He took the advice thus suggested, and from that time
on treated his subjects with the greatest cruelty. Many of those whom
Cypselus had spared he put to death or banished, and acted the tyrant in
the fullest sense of the word.
He even killed his wife Melissa; just why, we do not know. But we are
told that she afterwards appeared to him in a dream and said that she
was cold, being destitute of clothes. The garments he had buried with
her were of no use to her spirit, since they had not been burned.
Periander took his own way to quiet and clothe the restless ghost. He
proclaimed that all the wives of Corinth should go to the temple of
Juno. This they did, dressed in their best, deeming it a festival. When
they were all within he closed the doors, and had them stripped of their
rich robes and ornaments, which he threw into a pit and set on fire,
calling on the name of Melissa as they burned. And in this way the
demand of the shivering ghost was satisfied.
Periander had two sons,--the elder a dunce, the younger, Lycophron (or
wolf-heart), a youth of noble nature and fine intellect. He sent them on
a visit to Proclus, their mother's father, and from him the boys
learned, what they had not known before, that their father was their
mother's murderer.
This story did not trouble the dull-brained elder, but Lycophron was so
affected by it that on his return home he refused to speak to his
father, and acted so surlily that Periander in anger turned him out of
his house. The tyrant, learning from his elder son the cause of
Lycophron's strange behavior, grew still more incensed. He sent orders
to those who had given shelter to his son that they should cease to
harbor him, And he continued to drive him from shelter to shelter, till
in the end he proclaimed that whoever dared to harbor, or even speak to,
his rebellious son, should pay a heavy fine to Apollo.
Thus, driven from every house, Lycophron took lodging in the public
porticos, where he dwelt without shelter and almost without food. Seeing
his wretched state, Periander took pity on him and bade him come home
and no longer indulge in such foolish and unfilial behavior.
[Illustration: THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS.]
Lycophron's only reply was that his father had broken his own edict by
coming and talking with him, and therefore himself owed the penalty to
Apollo.
Periander, seeing that the boy was uncontrollable in his indignation,
and troubled at heart by the piteous spectacle, now sent him by ship to
the island of Corcyra, a colony of Corinth. As for Proclus, the tyrant
made war upon him for his indiscreet revelation, robbed him of his
kingdom, Epidaurus, and carried him captive to Corinth.
And the years went on, and Periander grew old and unable properly to
handle his affairs. His elder son was incapable of taking his place, so
he sent to Corcyra and asked Lycophron to come to Corinth and take the
kingship of that fair land.
Lycophron, whose indignation time had not cooled, refused even to answer
the message. Then Periander sent his daughter, the sister of Lycophron,
hoping that she might be able to persuade him. She made a strong appeal,
begging him not to let the power pass away from their family and their
father's wealth fall into strange hands, and reminding him that mercy
was a higher virtue than justice.
Her appeal was in vain. Lycophron refused to go back to Corinth as long
as his father remained alive.
Then the desperate old man, at his wits' end through Lycophron's
obstinacy, sent a herald, saying that he would himself come to Corcyra,
and let his son take his place in Corinth as king. To these terms
Lycophron agreed. But there were others to deal with, for, when the
terrified Corcyrians heard that the terrible old tyrant was coming to
dwell in their island, they rose in a tumult and put Lycophron to death.
And thus ended the dynasty of Cypselus, as the oracle had foretold.
Though Periander revenged himself on the Corcyrians, he could not bring
his son to life again, and the children's children of Cypselus did not
come to the throne.
_THE RING OF POLYCRATES._
Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the bright and beautiful island of
Samos, one of the choicest gems of the AEgean archipelago. This island
was, somewhere about the year 530 B.C., seized by a political adventurer
named Polycrates. He accomplished this by the aid of his two brothers,
but of these he afterwards killed one and banished the other,--Syloson
by name,--so that he became sole ruler and despot of the island.
This island kingdom of Polycrates was a small one, about eighty miles in
circumference, but it was richly fertile, and had the honor of being the
birthplace of many illustrious Greeks, among whom we may name
Pythagoras, the famous philosopher. The city of Samos became, under
Polycrates, "the first of all cities, Greek or barbarian." It was
adorned with magnificent buildings and costly works of art; was supplied
with water by a great aqueduct, tunnelled for nearly a mile through a
mountain; had a great breakwater to protect the harbor, and a vast and
magnificent temple to Juno: all of which seem to have been partly or
wholly constructed by Polycrates.
But this despot did not content himself with ruling the island and
adorning the city which he had seized. He was ambitious and
unscrupulous, and aspired to become master of all the islands of the
AEgean Sea, and of Ionia in Asia Minor. He conquered several of these
islands and a number of towns in the mainland, defeated the Lesbian
fleet that came against him during his war with Miletus, got together a
hundred armed ships and hired a thousand bowmen, and went forward with
his designs with a fortune that never seemed to desert him. His naval
power became the greatest in the world of Greece, and it seemed as if he
would succeed in all his ambitious designs. But a dreadful fate awaited
the tyrant. Like Croesus, he was to learn that good fortune is apt to
be followed by disaster. The remainder of his story is part history and
part legend, and we give it as told by old Herodotus, who has preserved
so many interesting tales of ancient Greece.
At, that time Persia, whose king Cyrus had overcome Croesus, was the
greatest empire in the world. All western Asia lay in its grasp; Asia
Minor was overrun; and Cambyses, the king who had succeeded Cyrus, was
about to invade the ancient land of Egypt. The king of this country,
Amasis by name, was in alliance with Polycrates, rich gifts had passed
between them, and they seemed the best of friends. But Amasis had his
superstitions, and the constant good fortune of Polycrates seemed to him
so different from the ordinary lot of kings that he feared that some
misfortune must follow it. He perhaps had heard the story of Solon and
Croesus. Amasis accordingly wrote a warning letter to his friend.
The great prosperity of his friend and ally, he said, caused him
foreboding instead of joy, for he knew that the gods were envious, and
he desired for those he loved alternate good and ill fortune. He had
never heard of any one who was successful in all his enterprises that
did not meet with calamity in the end. He therefore counselled
Polycrates to do what the gods had not yet done, and bring some
misfortune on himself. His advice was that he should select the treasure
he most valued and could least bear to part with, and throw it away so
that it should never be seen again. By this voluntary sacrifice he might
avert involuntary loss and suffering.
This advice seemed wise to the despot, and he began to consider which of
his possessions he could least bear to lose. He settled at length on his
signet-ring, an emerald set in gold, which he highly valued. This he
determined to throw away where it could never be recovered. So, having
one of his fifty-oared vessels manned, he put to sea, and when he had
gone a long distance from the coast he took the ring from his finger
and, in the presence of all the sailors, tossed it into the waters.
This was not done without deep grief to Polycrates. He valued the ring
more highly than ever, now that it lay on the bottom of the sea,
irretrievably lost to him, as he thought; and he grieved for days
thereafter, feeling that he had endured a real misfortune, which he
hoped the gods might accept as a compensation for his good luck.
But destiny is not so easily to be disarmed. Several days afterwards a
Samian fisherman had the fortune to catch a fish so large and beautiful
that he esteemed it worthy to be offered as a present to the king. He
accordingly went with it to the palace gates and asked to see
Polycrates. The guards, learning his purpose, admitted him. On coming
into the king's presence, the fisherman said that, though he was a poor
man who lived by his labor, he could not let himself offer such a prize
in the public market.
"I said to myself," he continued, "'It is worthy of Polycrates and his
greatness;' and so I brought it here to give it to you."
The compliment and the gift so pleased the tyrant that he not only
thanked the fisherman warmly, but invited him to sup with him on the
fish.
But a wonder happened in the king's kitchen. On the cook's cutting open
the fish to prepare it for the table, to his surprise he found within it
_the signet-ring of the king_. With joy he hastened to Polycrates with
his strangely recovered treasure, the story of whose loss had gone
abroad, and told in what a remarkable way it had been restored.
As for Polycrates, the return of the ring brought him some joy but more
grief. The fates, it appeared, were not so lightly to be appeased. He
wrote to Amasis, telling what he had done and with what result. The
letter came to the Egyptian king like a prognostic of evil. That there
would be an ill end to the career of Polycrates he now felt sure; and,
not wishing to be involved in it himself, he sent a herald to Samos and
informed his late friend and ally that the alliance between them was at
an end.
It cannot be said that Amasis profited much by this act. Soon afterwards
his own country was overrun and conquered by Cambyses, the Persian king,
and his reign came to a disastrous termination.
Whether there is any historical basis for this story of the ring may be
questioned. But this we do know, that the friendship between Amasis and
Polycrates was broken, and that Polycrates offered to help Cambyses in
his invasion, and sent forty ships to the Nile for this purpose. On
these were some Samians whom the tyrant wished to get rid of, and whom
he secretly asked the Persian king not to let return.
These exiles, however, suspecting what was in store for them, managed in
some way to escape, and returned to Samos, where they made an attack on
Polycrates. Being driven off by him, they went to Sparta and asked for
assistance, telling so long a story of their misfortunes and sufferings
that the Spartans, who could not bear long speeches, curtly answered,
"We have forgotten the first part of your speech, and the last part we
do not understand." This answer taught the Samians a lesson. The next
day they met the Spartans with an empty wallet, saying, "Our wallet has
no meal in it." "Your wallet is superfluous," said the Spartans; meaning
that the words would have served without it. The aid which the Spartans
thereupon granted the exiles proved of no effect, for it was against
Polycrates, the fortunate. They sent an expedition to Samos, and
besieged the city forty days, but were forced to retire without success.
Then the exiles, thus made homeless, became pirates. They attacked the
weak but rich island of Siphnos, which they ravaged, and forced the
inhabitants to buy them off at a cost of one hundred talents. With this
fund they purchased the island of Hydrea, but in the end went to Crete,
where they captured the city of Cydonia. After they had held this city
for five years the Cretans recaptured it, and the Samian exiles ended
their career by being sold into slavery.
Meanwhile the good fortune of Polycrates continued, and Samos flourished
under his rule. In addition to his great buildings and works of
engineering he became interested in stock-raising, and introduced into
the island the finest breeds of sheep, goats, and pigs. By high wages he
attracted the ablest artisans of Greece to the city, and added to his
popularity by lending his rich hangings and costly plate to those who
wanted them for a wedding feast or a sumptuous banquet. And that none of
his subjects might betray him while he was off upon an extended
expedition, he had the wives and children of all whom he suspected shut
up in the sheds built to shelter his ships, with orders that these
should be burned in case of any rebellious outbreak.
Yet the misfortune that the return of the ring had indicated came at
length. The warning which Solon had given Croesus applied to
Polycrates as well. The prosperous despot had a bitter enemy, Oroetes
by name, the Persian governor of Sardis. As to why he hated Polycrates
two stories are told, but as neither of them is certain we shall not
repeat them. It is enough to say that he hated Polycrates bitterly and
desired his destruction, which he laid a plan to bring about.
Oroetes, residing then at Magnesia, on the Maeander River, in the
vicinity of Samos, and being aware of the ambitious designs of
Polycrates, sent him a message to the effect that he knew that while he
desired to become lord of the isles, he had not the means to carry out
his ambitious project. As for himself, he was aware that Cambyses was
bent on his destruction. He therefore invited Polycrates to come and
take him, with his wealth, offering for his protection gold sufficient
to make him master of the whole of Greece, so far as money would serve
for this.
This welcome offer filled Polycrates with joy. He knew nothing of the
hatred of Oroetes, and at once sent his secretary to Magnesia to see
the Persian and report upon the offer. What he principally wished to
know was in regard to the money offered, and Oroetes prepared to
satisfy him in this particular. He had eight large chests prepared,
filled nearly full of stones, upon which gold was spread. These were
corded, as if ready for instant removal.
This seeming store of gold was shown to the secretary, who hastened back
to Polycrates with a glowing description of the treasure he had seen.
Polycrates, on hearing this story, decided to go at once and bring
Oroetes and his chests of gold to Samos.
Against this action his friends protested, while the soothsayers found
the portents unfavorable. His daughter, also, had a significant dream.
She saw her father hanging high in the air, washed by Zeus, the king of
the gods, and anointed by the sun. Yet in spite of all this the
infatuated king persisted in going. His daughter followed him on the
ship, still begging him to return. His only answer was that if he
returned successfully he would keep her an old maid for years.
"Oh that you may perform your threat!" she answered. "It is far better
for me to be an old maid than to lose my father."