Part 6

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 AGARISTÉ._

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 Agaristé, 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 Agaristé 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 Pæus, 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 Alkmæon, 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 Agaristé 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 Hæmon 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.

But the year of probation came in due time to its end, and among all the 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 Agaristé 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 Agaristé I betroth to Megacles, the son of Alkmæon, 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 Agaristé, 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 Bacchiadæ (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 Bacchiadæ would marry, as she had the misfortune to be lame. So she married outside the family, her husband being named Aëtion, and a man of noble descent. Having no children, Aëtion 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 Bacchiadæ heard of this oracle, and likewise knew of an earlier one that had the same significance. Forewarned is forearmed. They remained quiet, waiting until Aëtion'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 Aëtion dwelt, with instructions to kill the child. These assassins entered Aëtion'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 Aëtion 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 Thrasybúlus, the tyrant of Miletus, asking his advice how he could best rule with honor and fortune. Thrasybúlus 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 Thrasybúlus 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.