or sisters into slavery by fathers or brothers; a prohibition which
shows how much females had before been looked upon as articles of
property. And it would seem that before his time the violation of a free
woman must have been punished at the discretion of the magistrates; for
we are told that he was the first who enacted a penalty of one hundred
drachmas against the offender, and twenty drachmas against the seducer
of a free woman. Moreover, it is said that he forbade a bride when given
in marriage to carry with her any personal ornaments and appurtenances,
except to the extent of three robes and certain matters of furniture not
very valuable. Solon further imposed upon women several restraints in
regard to proceeding at the obsequies of deceased relatives. He forbade
profuse demonstrations of sorrow, singing of composed dirges, and
costly sacrifices and contributions. He limited strictly the quantity of
meat and drink admissible for the funeral banquet, and prohibited
nocturnal exit, except in a car and with a light. It appears that both
in Greece and Rome, the feelings of duty and affection on the part of
surviving relatives prompted them to ruinous expense in a funeral, as
well as to unmeasured effusions both of grief and conviviality; and the
general necessity experienced for legal restriction is attested by the
remark of Plutarch, that similar prohibitions to those enacted by Solon
were likewise in force at his native town of Chæronea.
Other penal enactments of Solon are yet to be mentioned. He forbade
absolutely evil speaking with respect to the dead. He forbade it
likewise with respect to the living, either in a temple or before judges
or archons, or at any public festival--on pain of a forfeit of three
drachmas to the person aggrieved, and two more to the public treasury.
How mild the general character of his punishments was, may be judged by
this law against foul language, not less than by the law before
mentioned against rape. Both the one and the other of these offences
were much more severely dealt with under the subsequent law of
democratical Athens. The peremptory edict against speaking ill of a
deceased person, though doubtless springing in a great degree from
disinterested repugnance, is traceable also in part to that fear of the
wrath of the departed which strongly possessed the early Greek mind.
It seems generally that Solon determined by law the outlay for the
public sacrifices, though we do not know what were his particular
directions. We are told that he reckoned a sheep and a medimnus (of
wheat or barley?) as equivalent, either of them, to a drachma, and that
he also prescribed the prices to be paid for first-rate oxen intended
for solemn occasions. But it astonishes us to see the large recompense
which he awarded out of the public treasury to a victor at the Olympic
or Isthmian games: to the former, five hundred drachmas, equal to one
year's income of the highest of the four classes on the census; to the
latter one hundred drachmas. The magnitude of these rewards strikes us
the more when we compare them with the fines on rape and evil speaking.
We cannot be surprised that the philosopher Xenophanes noticed, with
some degree of severity, the extravagant estimate of this species of
excellence, current among the Grecian cities. At the same time, we must
remember both that these Pan-Hellenic games presented the chief visible
evidence of peace and sympathy among the numerous communities of Greece,
and that in the time of Solon, factitious reward was still needful to
encourage them. In respect to land and agriculture Solon proclaimed a
public reward of five drachmas for every wolf brought in, and one
drachma for every wolf's cub; the extent of wild land has at all times
been considerable in Attica. He also provided rules respecting the use
of wells between neighbors, and respecting the planting in conterminous
olive grounds. Whether any of these regulations continued in operation
during the better-known period of Athenian history cannot be safely
affirmed.
In respect to theft, we find it stated that Solon repealed the
punishment of death which Draco had annexed to that crime, and enacted,
as a penalty, compensation to an amount double the value of the property
stolen. The simplicity of this law perhaps affords ground for presuming
that it really does belong to Solon. But the law which prevailed during
the time of the orators respecting theft must have been introduced at
some later period, since it enters into distinctions and mentions both
places and forms of procedure, which we cannot reasonably refer to the
forty-sixth Olympiad. The public dinners at the Prytaneum, of which the
archons and a select few partook in common, were also either first
established, or perhaps only more strictly regulated, by Solon. He
ordered barley cakes for their ordinary meals, and wheaten loaves for
festival days, prescribing how often each person should dine at the
table. The honor of dining at the table of the Prytaneum was maintained
throughout as a valuable reward at the disposal of the government.
Among the various laws of Solon, there are few which have attracted more
notice than that which pronounces the man who in a sedition stood aloof,
and took part with neither side, to be dishonored and disfranchised.
Strictly speaking, this seems more in the nature of an emphatic moral
denunciation, or a religious curse, than a legal sanction capable of
being formally applied in an individual case and after judicial
trial,--though the sentence of _atimy_, under the more elaborated Attic
procedure, was both definite in its penal consequences and also
judicially delivered. We may, however, follow the course of ideas under
which Solon was induced to write this sentence on his tables, and we may
trace the influence of similar ideas in later Attic institutions. It is
obvious that his denunciation is confined to that special case in which
a sedition has already broken out: we must suppose that Cylon has seized
the Acropolis, or that Pisistratus, Megacles, and Lycurgus are in arms
at the head of their partisans. Assuming these leaders to be wealthy and
powerful men, which would in all probability be the fact, the
constituted authority--such as Solon saw before him in Attica, even
after his own organic amendments--was not strong enough to maintain the
peace; it became, in fact, itself one of the contending parties. Under
such given circumstances, the sooner every citizen publicly declared his
adherence to some of them, the earlier this suspension of legal
authority was likely to terminate. Nothing was so mischievous as the
indifference of the mass, or their disposition to let the combatants
fight out the matter among themselves, and then to submit to the victor.
Nothing was more likely to encourage aggression on the part of an
ambitious malcontent, than the conviction that if he could once
overpower the small amount of physical force which surrounded the
archons, and exhibit himself in armed possession of the Prytaneum or the
Acropolis, he might immediately count upon passive submission on the
part of all the freemen without. Under the state of feeling which Solon
inculcates, the insurgent leader would have to calculate that every man
who was not actively in his favor would be actively against him, and
this would render his enterprise much more dangerous. Indeed, he could
then never hope to succeed, except on the double supposition of
extraordinary popularity in his own person and widespread detestation of
the existing government. He would thus be placed under the influence of
powerful deterring motives; so that ambition would be less likely to
seduce him into a course which threatened nothing but ruin, unless under
such encouragements from the preëxisting public opinion as to make his
success a result desirable for the community. Among the small political
societies of Greece--especially in the age of Solon, when the number of
despots in other parts of Greece seems to have been at its
maximum--every government, whatever might be its form, was sufficiently
weak to make its overthrow a matter of comparative facility. Unless upon
the supposition of a band of foreign mercenaries--which would render the
government a system of naked force, and which the Athenian lawgiver
would of course never contemplate--there was no other stay for it except
a positive and pronounced feeling of attachment on the part of the mass
of citizens. Indifference on their part would render them a prey to
every daring man of wealth who chose to become a conspirator. That they
should be ready to come forward, not only with voice but with arms--and
that they should be known beforehand to be so--was essential to the
maintenance of every good Grecian government. It was salutary in
preventing mere personal attempts at revolution; and pacific in its
tendency, even where the revolution had actually broken out, because in
the greater number of cases the proportion of partisans would probably
be very unequal, and the inferior party would be compelled to renounce
their hopes.
It will be observed that, in this enactment of Solon, the existing
government is ranked merely as one of the contending parties. The
virtuous citizen is enjoined, not to come forward in its support, but to
come forward at all events, either for it or against it. Positive and
early action is all which is prescribed to him as matter of duty. In the
age of Solon there was no political idea or system yet current which
could be assumed as an unquestionable datum--no conspicuous standard to
which the citizens could be pledged under all circumstances to attach
themselves. The option lay only between a mitigated oligarchy in
possession, and a despot in possibility; a contest wherein the
affections of the people could rarely be counted upon in favor of the
established government. But this neutrality in respect to the
constitution was at an end after the revolution of Clisthenes, when the
idea of the sovereign people and the democratical institutions became
both familiar and precious to every individual citizen. We shall
hereafter find the Athenians binding themselves by the most sincere and
solemn oaths to uphold their democracy against all attempts to subvert
it; we shall discover in them a sentiment not less positive and
uncompromising in its direction, than energetic in its inspirations. But
while we notice this very important change in their character, we shall
at the same time perceive that the wise precautionary recommendation of
Solon, to obviate sedition by an early declaration of the impartial
public between two contending leaders, was not lost upon them. Such, in
point of fact, was the purpose of that salutary and protective
institution which is called the _Ostracism_. When two party leaders, in
the early stages of the Athenian democracy, each powerful in adherents
and influence, had become passionately embarked in bitter and prolonged
opposition to each other, such opposition was likely to conduct one or
other to violent measures. Over and above the hopes of party triumph,
each might well fear that, if he himself continued within the bounds of
legality, he might fall a victim to aggressive proceedings on the part
of his antagonists. To ward off this formidable danger, a public vote
was called for, to determine which of the two should go into temporary
banishment, retaining his property and unvisited by any disgrace. A
number of citizens, not less than six thousand, voting secretly, and
therefore independently, were required to take part, pronouncing upon
one or other of these eminent rivals a sentence of exile for ten years.
The one who remained became, of course, more powerful, yet less in a
situation to be driven into anti-constitutional courses than he was
before. Tragedy and comedy were now beginning to be grafted on the lyric
and choric song. First, one actor was provided to relieve the chorus;
next, two actors were introduced to sustain fictitious characters and
carry on a dialogue in such manner that the songs of the chorus and the
interlocution of the actors formed a continuous piece. Solon, after
having heard Thespis acting (as all the early composers did, both tragic
and comic) in his own comedy, asked him afterward if he was not ashamed
to pronounce such falsehoods before so large an audience. And when
Thespis answered that there was no harm in saying and doing such things
merely for amusement, Solon indignantly exclaimed, striking the ground
with his stick, "If once we come to praise and esteem such amusement as
this, we shall quickly find the effects of it in our daily
transactions." For the authenticity of this anecdote it would be rash to
vouch, but we may at least treat it as the protest of some early
philosopher against the deceptions of the drama: and it is interesting
as marking the incipient struggles of that literature in which Athens
afterward attained such unrivaled excellence.
It would appear that all the laws of Solon were proclaimed, inscribed,
and accepted without either discussion or resistance. He is said to have
described them, not as the best laws which he could himself have
imagined, but as the best which he could have induced the people to
accept. He gave them validity for the space of ten years, during which
period both the senate collectively and the archons individually swore
to observe them with fidelity; under penalty, in case of non-observance,
of a golden statue as large as life to be erected at Delphi. But though
the acceptance of the laws was accomplished without difficulty, it was
not found so easy either for the people to understand and obey, or for
the framer to explain them. Every day persons came to Solon either with
praise, or criticism, or suggestions of various improvements, or
questions as to the construction of particular enactments; until at last
he became tired of this endless process of reply and vindication, which
was seldom successful either in removing obscurity or in satisfying
complainants. Foreseeing that if he remained he would be compelled to
make changes, he obtained leave of absence from his countrymen for ten
years, trusting that before the expiration of that period they would
have become accustomed to his laws. He quitted his native city in the
full certainty that his laws would remain unrepealed until his return;
for (says Herodotus) "the Athenians _could not_ repeal them, since they
were bound by solemn oaths to observe them for ten years." The
unqualified manner in which the historian here speaks of an oath, as if
it created a sort of physical necessity and shut out all possibility of
a contrary result, deserves notice as illustrating Grecian sentiment.
On departing from Athens, Solon first visited Egypt, where he
communicated largely with Psenophis of Heliopolis and Sonchis of Sais,
Egyptian priests who had much to tell respecting their ancient history,
and from whom he learned matters, real or pretended, far transcending in
alleged antiquity the oldest Grecian genealogies--especially the history
of the vast submerged island of Atlantis, and the war which the
ancestors of the Athenians had successfully carried on against it, nine
thousand years before. Solon is said to have commenced an epic poem upon
this subject, but he did not live to finish it, and nothing of it now
remains. From Egypt he went to Cyprus, where he visited the small town
of Æpia, said to have been originally founded by Demophon, son of
Theseus, and ruled at this period by the prince Philocyprus--each town
in Cyprus having its own petty prince. It was situated near the river
Clarius in a position precipitous and secure, but inconvenient and
ill-supplied, Solon persuaded Philocyprus to quit the old site and
establish a new town down in the fertile plain beneath. He himself
stayed and became _æcist_ of the new establishment, making all the
regulations requisite for its safe and prosperous march, which was
indeed so decisively manifested that many new settlers flocked into the
new plantation, called by Philocyprus _Soli_, in honor of Solon. To our
deep regret, we are not permitted to know what these regulations were;
but the general fact is attested by the poems of Solon himself, and the
lines in which he bade farewell to Philocyprus on quitting the island
are yet before us. On the dispositions of this prince his poem bestowed
unqualified commendation.
Besides his visit to Egypt and Cyprus, a story was also current of his
having conversed with the Lydian king Croesus at Sardis. The
communication said to have taken place between them has been woven by
Herodotus into a sort of moral tale which forms one of the most
beautiful episodes in his whole history. Though this tale has been told
and retold as if it were genuine history, yet as it now stands it is
irreconcilable with chronology--although very possibly Solon may at some
time or other have visited Sardis, and seen Croesus as hereditary
prince.
But even if no chronological objections existed, the moral purpose of
the tale is so prominent, and pervades it so systematically from
beginning to end, that these internal grounds are of themselves
sufficiently strong to impeach its credibility as a matter of fact,
unless such doubts happen to be out-weighed--which in this case they are
not--by good contemporary testimony. The narrative of Solon and Croesus
can be taken for nothing else but an illustrative fiction, borrowed by
Herodotus from some philosopher, and clothed in his own peculiar beauty
of expression, which on this occasion is more decidedly poetical than is
habitual with him. I cannot transcribe, and I hardly dare to abridge it.
The vainglorious Croesus, at the summit of his conquests and his riches,
endeavors to win from his visitor Solon an opinion that he is the
happiest of mankind. The latter, after having twice preferred to him
modest and meritorious Grecian citizens, at length reminds him that his
vast wealth and power are of a tenure too precarious to serve as an
evidence of happiness; that the gods are jealous and meddlesome, and
often make the show of happiness a mere prelude to extreme disaster; and
that no man's life can be called happy until the whole of it has been
played out, so that it may be seen to be out of the reach of reverses.
Croesus treats this opinion as absurd, but "a great judgment from God
fell upon him, after Solon was departed--probably (observes Herodotus)
because he fancied himself the happiest of all men." First he lost his
favorite son Atys, a brave and intelligent youth (his only other son
being dumb). For the Mysians of Olympus being ruined by a destructive
and formidable wild boar, which they were unable to subdue, applied for
aid to Croesus, who sent to the spot a chosen hunting force, and
permitted--though with great reluctance, in consequence of an alarming
dream--that his favorite son should accompany them. The young prince was
unintentionally slain by the Phrygian exile Adrastus, whom Croesus had
sheltered and protected, Hardly had the latter recovered from the
anguish of this misfortune, when the rapid growth of Cyrus and the
Persian power induced him to go to war with them, against the advice of
his wisest counsellors. After a struggle of about three years he was
completely defeated, his capital Sardis taken by storm, and himself made
prisoner. Cyrus ordered a large pile to be prepared, and placed upon it
Croesus in fetters, together with fourteen young Lydians, in the
intention of burning them alive either as a religious offering, or in
fulfilment of a vow, "or perhaps (says Herodotus) to see whether some of
the gods would not interfere to rescue a man so preëmiently pious as the
king of Lydia." In this sad extremity, Croesus bethought him of the
warning which he had before despised, and thrice pronounced, with a deep
groan, the name of Solon. Cyrus desired the interpreters to inquire whom
he was invoking, and learnt in reply the anecdote of the Athenian
lawgiver, together with the solemn memento which he had offered to
Croesus during more prosperous days, attesting the frail tenure of all
human greatness. The remark sunk deep into the Persian monarch as a
token of what might happen to himself: he repented of his purpose, and
directed that the pile, which had already been kindled, should be
immediately extinguished. But the orders came too late. In spite of the
most zealous efforts of the bystanders, the flame was found
unquenchable, and Croesus would still have been burned, had he not
implored with prayers and tears the succor of Apollo, to whose Delphian
and Theban temples he had given such munificent presents. His prayers
were heard, the fair sky was immediately overcast and a profuse rain
descended, sufficient to extinguish the flames. The life of Croesus was
thus saved, and he became afterward the confidential friend and adviser
of his conqueror.
Such is the brief outline of a narrative which Herodotus has given with
full development and with impressive effect. It would have served as a
show-lecture to the youth of Athens not less admirably than the
well-known fable of the Choice of Heracles, which the philosopher
Prodicus, a junior contemporary of Herodotus, delivered with so much
popularity. It illustrates forcibly the religious and ethical ideas of
antiquity; the deep sense of the jealousy of the gods, who would not
endure pride in any one except themselves; the impossibility, for any
man, of realizing to himself more than a very moderate share of
happiness; the danger from a reactionary Nemesis, if at anytime he had
overpassed such limit; and the necessity of calculations taking in the
whole of life, as a basis for rational comparison of different
individuals. And it embodies, as a practical consequence from these
feelings, the often-repeated protest of moralists against vehement
impulses and unrestrained aspirations. The more valuable this narrative
appears, in its illustrative character, the less can we presume to treat
it as a history.
It is much to be regretted that we have no information respecting events
in Attica immediately after the Solonian laws and constitution, which
were promulgated in B.C. 594, so as to understand better the practical
effect of these changes. What we next hear respecting Solon in Attica
refers to a period immediately preceding the first usurpation of
Pisistratus in B.C. 560, and after the return of Solon from his long
absence. We are here again introduced to the same oligarchical
dissensions as are reported to have prevailed before the Solonian
legislation: the Pediis, or opulent proprietors of the plain round
Athens, under Lycurgus; the Parali of the south of Attica, under
Megacles; and the Diacrii or mountaineers of the eastern cantons, the
poorest of the three classes, under Pisistratus, are in a state of
violent intestine dispute. The account of Plutarch represents Solon as
returning to Athens during the height of this sedition. He was treated
with respect by all parties, but his recommendations were no longer
obeyed, and he was disqualified by age from acting with effect in
public. He employed his best efforts to mitigate party animosities, and
applied himself particularly to restrain the ambition of Pisistratus,
whose ulterior projects he quickly detected.