SOLON FREES THE SLAVES
Solon, the wise lawgiver of Athens, was a descendant of King Codrus.
His father had given away most of his wealth to help his city or
his countrymen, so Solon became a merchant, as the sons of noblemen
often did in these days of long ago. To increase his business, Solon
journeyed through many of the states of Greece as well as to Asia.
Wherever he went he studied the laws and manners of the people, just as
Lycurgus the lawgiver of Sparta had done.
Solon was not only a merchant, he was also a poet, and because he was
both wise and learned he was counted one of the seven sages of Greece.
When Solon returned from one of his journeys about 593 B.C., he was
made an archon and asked to reform the laws.
His first act was a great and unexpected one, for he proclaimed that
henceforth no one might be made a slave because he was unable to pay
his debts. And more than that, he said that those who were already
slaves were at once to be set free.
Hundreds of men were thus delivered from slavery, many hundreds more
were freed from the fear of becoming slaves. As these men ploughed
their own lands and reaped their own harvests they were full of
gratitude to Solon. For this law alone the name of Solon might well be
held in reverence.
[Illustration: Solon, the wise lawgiver of Athens]
So great was the joy of the people that the day the law was passed was
kept each year as a festival. But the rich nobles were not pleased
with Solon’s act, for they lost many of their slaves and found it less
easy to add to their wealth.
The lawgiver also declared that if there was war or strife in the
State, each citizen must take one side or the other. No one was to be
allowed to look on idly, or side now with one party, now with another.
Solon restored to the assembly of the people the rights that had been
wrested from it, and he did all he could to add to its powers.
In these ways Solon made Greece less and less of an Oligarchy and more
and more of a Democracy. That is to say, Greece began to be governed by
the many rather than by the few.
The laws made by Solon, and there were many of which I have not told,
were written on tables of wood and placed in frames that revolved.
These frames were called axones and were numbered.
When the laws had been written on the tables of wood they were placed
in the public hall that they might be read by all. Other copies were
made on stone pillars and kept in the portico of the king. Each citizen
took an oath that he would keep these laws, which were to remain
unaltered for a hundred years.
Solon had enemies, as reformers in all ages have had. Some people
complained because his laws were not bold enough, others because they
were too bold.
Once when he was asked if he believed that he had given to the
Athenians the best possible laws, he answered, ‘The best they could
receive.’
The complaints of his enemies did not greatly disturb him. He declared
that neither friend nor foe influenced him as he worked. ‘I threw my
stout shield over both parties,’ he said, and steadfastly refused to
alter his code.
When he ceased to be archon he left Athens and spent ten years seeing
many strange people and many new places. It is said that during his
absence he met Croesus, King of Lydia, the richest man in the world.
As Solon and Croesus did not live at the same time, it is not possible
that the wise lawgiver and the rich king could have met, but this is
the story that is told.
When Solon reached Lydia, he went to the court of Croesus. The nobles
were clad in such rich garments and were attended by so many guards
and pages that the Athenian thought that one of them must be the king
himself. But when he actually stood in the presence of the monarch he
must have smiled at his mistake, so gorgeously was the king arrayed in
gold and purple, so plentifully was he bedecked with sparkling jewels.
Croesus thought that Solon would be filled with awe at the sight of his
grandeur, but he soon found that purple cloth and rare stones had no
great interest for the Athenian.
There were still his treasure-houses! These could not fail to impress
the stranger. So the king led Solon through gallery after gallery that
he might see his pictures, his statues, and all the wonderful things
that his wealth had brought to him. Then in a glow of pride he turned
to his guest, asking if he did not think that Croesus was the happiest
man in the world.
‘Nay, O king,’ answered Solon, ‘Tellus, one of my own countrymen, was
happier than thou, for he died bravely on the battlefield in defence of
his country.’
Croesus thought Solon was foolish not to count that man happiest who
owned the most gold. But he only said, ‘After Tellus, dost thou count
me the happiest man in the world?’
‘Nay,’ again answered the wise man, ‘but two sons who loved their
mother well, and served her with their strength.’
Then the king was angry and he said, ‘Dost thou not count me a happy
man?’
‘Call no man happy until he dies,’ replied the wise man, ‘for who knows
what pains the gods may yet have in store for him while he lives.’
Croesus was yet to learn the truth of what Solon said. For in days to
come Cyrus, King of Persia, seized his city, took him prisoner, and
condemned him to be burned to death.
As he was being bound to the pyre, Croesus remembered the words of the
Athenian, and he cried aloud three times, ‘O Solon, Solon, Solon.’
The King of Persia had never heard of Solon, and he asked on what
strange god his prisoner was calling.
‘On no god,’ answered the miserable man, ‘but on one whom I would that
all tyrants might meet and converse with.’ He then told Cyrus how Solon
had said no one need count himself happy while he lived, as he could
not know what misfortunes the gods had yet in store for him.
Already the pyre had been set alight, but Cyrus, struck by the words he
had heard and thinking that he did not know what fate might yet befall
himself, ordered Croesus to be set free.
But the flames had blazed up fiercely, and no one could quench the
fire. Then Croesus besought Apollo to help him, and lo! the sky
which had been clear grew dark, and a heavy downfall of rain soon
extinguished the flames.
‘Thus,’ says Plutarch, who tells this story, ‘Solon had the glory by
the same saying to save one king and instruct another.’