It is not easy to make out distinctly what was the political position of the ancient gentes and phratries, as Solon left them. The four tribes consisted altogether of gentes and phratries, insomuch that no one could be included in any one of the tribes who was not also a member of some gens and phratry. Now the new pro-bouleutic or pre-considerate senate consisted of four hundred members,—one hundred from each of the tribes: persons not included in any gens or phratry could therefore have had no access to it. The conditions of eligibility were similar, according to ancient custom, for the nine archons,—of course, also, for the senate of areopagus. So that there remained only the public assembly, in which an Athenian not a member of these tribes could take part: yet he was a citizen, since he could give his vote for archons and senators, and could take part in the annual decision of their accountability, besides being entitled to claim redress for wrong from the archons in his own person,—while the alien could only do so through the intervention of an avouching citizen, or prostatês. It seems, therefore, that all persons not included in the four tribes, whatever their grade of fortune might be, were on the same level in respect to political privilege as the fourth and poorest class of the Solonian census. It has already been remarked that, even before the time of Solon, the number of Athenians not included in the gentes or phratries was probably considerable: it tended to become greater and greater, since these bodies were close and unexpansive, while the policy of the new lawgiver tended to invite industrious settlers from other parts of Greece to Athens. Such great and increasing inequality of political privilege helps to explain the weakness of the government in repelling the aggressions of Peisistratus, and exhibits the importance of the revolution afterwards wrought by Kleisthenês, when he abolished (for all political purposes) the four old tribes, and created ten new comprehensive tribes in place of them.

In regard to the regulations of the senate and the assembly of the people, as constituted by Solon, we are altogether without information: nor is it safe to transfer to the Solonian constitution the information, comparatively ample, which we possess respecting these bodies under the later democracy.

The laws of Solon were inscribed on wooden rollers and triangular tablets, in the species of writing called boustrophêdon (lines alternating first from left to right, and next from right to left, like the course of the ploughman), and preserved first in the acropolis, subsequently in the prytaneium. On the tablets, called kyrbeis, were chiefly commemorated the laws respecting sacred rites and sacrifices:[222] on the pillars, or rollers, of which there were at least sixteen, were placed the regulations respecting matters profane. So small are the fragments which have come down to us, and so much has been ascribed to Solon by the orators, which belongs really to the subsequent times, that it is hardly possible to form any critical judgment respecting the legislation as a whole, or to discover by what general principles or purposes he was guided.

He left unchanged all the previous laws and practices respecting the crime of homicide, connected as they were intimately with the religious feelings of the people. The laws of Drako on this subject therefore remained, but on other subjects, according to Plutarch, they were altogether abrogated:[223] there is, however, room for supposing, that the repeal cannot have been so sweeping as this biographer represents.

The Solonian laws seem to have borne more or less upon all the great departments of human interest and duty. We find regulations political and religious, public and private, civil and criminal, commercial, agricultural, sumptuary, and disciplinarian. Solon provides punishment for crimes, restricts the profession and status of the citizen, prescribes detailed rules for marriage as well as for burial, for the common use of springs and wells, and for the mutual interest of conterminous farmers in planting or hedging their properties. As far as we can judge, from the imperfect manner in which his laws come before us, there does not seem to have been any attempt at a systematic order or classification. Some of them are mere general and vague directions, while others again run into the extreme of speciality.

By far the most important of all was the amendment of the law of debtor and creditor which has already been adverted to, and the abolition of the power of fathers and brothers to sell their daughters and sisters into slavery. The prohibition of all contracts on the security of the body, was itself sufficient to produce a vast improvement in the character and condition of the poorer population,—a result which seems to have been so sensibly obtained from the legislation of Solon, that Boeckh and some other eminent authors suppose him to have abolished villenage and conferred upon the poor tenants a property in their lands, annulling the seignorial rights of the landlord. But this opinion rests upon no positive evidence, nor are we warranted in ascribing to him any stronger measure in reference to the land, than the annulment of the previous mortgages.[224]

The first pillar of his laws contained a regulation respecting exportable produce. He forbade the exportation of all produce of the Attic soil, except olive-oil alone, and the sanction employed to enforce observance of this law deserves notice, as an illustration of the ideas of the time;—the archon was bound, on pain of forfeiting one hundred drachms, to pronounce solemn curses against every offender.[225] We are probably to take this prohibition in conjunction with other objects said to have been contemplated by Solon, especially the encouragement of artisans and manufacturers at Athens. Observing, we are told, that many new emigrants were just then flocking into Attica to seek an establishment, in consequence of its greater security, he was anxious to turn them rather to manufacturing industry than to the cultivation of a soil naturally poor.[226] He forbade the granting of citizenship to any emigrants, except such as had quitted irrevocably their former abodes, and come to Athens for the purpose of carrying on some industrious profession; and in order to prevent idleness, he directed the senate of areopagus to keep watch over the lives of the citizens generally, and punish every one who had no course of regular labor to support him. If a father had not taught his son some art or profession, Solon relieved the son from all obligation to maintain him in his old age. And it was to encourage the multiplication of these artisans, that he insured, or sought to insure, to the residents in Attica a monopoly of all its landed produce except olive-oil, which was raised in abundance more than sufficient for their wants. It was his wish that the trade with foreigners should be carried on by exporting the produce of artisan labor, instead of the produce of land.[227]

This commercial prohibition is founded on principles substantially similar to those which were acted upon in the early history of England, with reference both to corn and to wool, and in other European countries also. In so far as it was at all operative, it tended to lessen the total quantity of produce raised upon the soil of Attica, and thus to keep the price of it from rising,—a purpose less objectionable—if we assume that the legislator is to interfere at all—than that of our late Corn Laws, which were destined to prevent the price of grain from falling. But the law of Solon must have been altogether inoperative, in reference to the great articles of human subsistence; for Attica imported, both largely and constantly, grain and salt provisions,—probably, also, wool and flax for the spinning and weaving of the women, and certainly timber for building. Whether the law was ever enforced with reference to figs and honey, may well be doubted; at least these productions of Attica were in after-times generally consumed and celebrated throughout Greece. Probably also, in the time of Solon, the silver-mines of Laureium had hardly begun to be worked: these afterwards became highly productive, and furnished to Athens a commodity for foreign payments not less convenient than lucrative.[228]

It is interesting to notice the anxiety, both of Solon and of Drako, to enforce among their fellow-citizens industrious and self-maintaining habits;[229] and we shall find the same sentiment proclaimed by Periklês, at the time when Athenian power was at its maximum. Nor ought we to pass over this early manifestation in Attica, of an opinion equitable and tolerant towards sedentary industry, which in most other parts of Greece was regarded as comparatively dishonorable. The general tone of Grecian sentiment recognized no occupations as perfectly worthy of a free citizen except arms, agriculture, and athletic and musical exercises; and the proceedings of the Spartans, who kept aloof even from agriculture, and left it to their Helots, were admired, though they could not be copied throughout most part of the Hellenic world. Even minds like Plato, Aristotle, and Xenophon concurred to a considerable extent in this feeling, which they justified on the ground that the sedentary life and unceasing house-work of the artisan was inconsistent with military aptitude: the town-occupations are usually described by a word which carries with it contemptuous ideas, and though recognized as indispensable to the existence of the city, are held suitable only for an inferior and semi-privileged order of citizens. This, the received sentiment among Greeks, as well as foreigners, found a strong and growing opposition at Athens, as I have already said,—corroborated also by a similar feeling at Corinth.[230] The trade of Corinth, as well as of Chalkis in Eubœa, was extensive, at a time when that of Athens had scarce any existence. But while the despotism of Periander can hardly have failed to operate as a discouragement to industry at Corinth, the contemporaneous legislation of Solon provided for traders and artisans a new home at Athens, giving the first encouragement to that numerous town-population both in the city and in the Peiræeus, which we find actually residing there in the succeeding century. The multiplication of such town-residents, both citizens and metics, or non-freemen, was a capital fact in the onward march of Athens, since it determined not merely the extension of her trade, but also the preëminence of her naval force,—and thus, as a farther consequence, lent extraordinary vigor to her democratical government. It seems, moreover, to have been a departure from the primitive temper of Atticism, which tended both to cantonal residence and rural occupation. We have, therefore, the greater interest in noting the first mention of it as a consequence of the Solonian legislation.

To Solon is first owing the admission of a power of testamentary bequest at Athens, in all cases in which a man had no legitimate children. According to the preëxisting custom, we may rather presume that if a deceased person left neither children nor blood relations, his property descended, as at Rome, to his gens and phratry.[231] Throughout most rude states of society, the power of willing is unknown, as among the ancient Germans,—among the Romans prior to the twelve tables,—in the old laws of the Hindus,[232] etc. Society limits a man’s interest or power of enjoyment to his life, and considers his relatives as having joint reversionary claims to his property, which take effect, in certain determinate proportions, after his death; and this view was the more likely to prevail at Athens, inasmuch as the perpetuity of the family sacred rites, in which the children and near relatives partook of right, was considered by the Athenians as a matter of public as well as of private concern. Solon gave permission to every man dying without children to bequeathe his property by will as he should think fit, and the testament was maintained, unless it could be shown to have been procured by some compulsion or improper seduction. Speaking generally, this continued to be the law throughout the historical times of Athens. Sons, wherever there were sons, succeeded to the property of their father in equal shares, with the obligation of giving out their sisters in marriage along with a certain dowry. If there were no sons, then the daughters succeeded, though the father might by will, within certain limits, determine the person to whom they should be married, with their rights of succession attached to them; or might, with the consent of his daughters, make by will certain other arrangements about his property. A person who had no children, or direct lineal descendants, might bequeathe his property at pleasure: if he died without a will, first his father, then his brother or brother’s children, next his sister or sister’s children succeeded: if none such existed, then the cousins by the father’s side, next the cousins by the mother’s side,—the male line of descent having preference over the female. Such was the principle of the Solonian laws of succession, though the particulars are in several ways obscure and doubtful.[233] Solon, it appears, was the first who gave power of superseding by testament the rights of agnates and gentiles to succession,—a proceeding in consonance with his plan of encouraging both industrious occupation and the consequent multiplication of individual acquisitions.[234]

It has been already mentioned that Solon forbade the sale of daughters 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 drachms against the offender, and twenty drachms against the seducer of a free woman.[235] 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.[236] Solon farther imposed upon women several restraints in regard to proceedings 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 interference of the law is attested by the remark of Plutarch, that similar prohibitions to those enacted by Solon were likewise in force at his native town of Chæroneia.[237]

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 drachms 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 drachm, 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 drachms, equal to one year’s income of the highest of the four classes on the census; to the latter one hundred drachms. The magnitude of these rewards strikes us the more when we compare them with the fines on rape and evil speaking; and we cannot be surprised that the philosopher Xenophanês noticed, with some degree of severity, the extravagant estimate of this species of excellence, current among the Grecian cities.[238] At the same time, we must remember both that these Pan-Hellenic sacred 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 drachms for every wolf brought in, and one drachm 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.[239]

In respect to theft, we find it stated that Solon repealed the punishment of death which Drako 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[240] 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 46th Olympiad. The public dinners at the prytaneium, 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.[241] The honor of dining at the table of the prytaneium 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.[242] 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 atīmy, 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 Kylôn has seized the acropolis, or that Peisistratus, Megaklês, and Lykurgus 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 one 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:[243] nothing was so likely to encourage aggression on the part of an ambitious malcontent, as 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 prytaneium 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 universal detestation of the existing government. He would thus be placed under the influence of powerful deterring motives, and mere ambition would be far 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,—and 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 it a government 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 that 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 Kleisthenês, 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 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. I shall in a future chapter speak again of this wise precaution, and vindicate it against some erroneous interpretations to which it has given rise; at present, I merely notice its analogy with the previous Solonian law, and its tendency to accomplish the same purpose of terminating a fierce party-feud by artificially calling in the votes of the mass of impartial citizens against one or other of the leaders,—with this important difference, that while Solon assumed the hostile parties to be actually in arms, the ostracism averted that grave public calamity by applying its remedy to the premonitory symptoms.

I have already considered, in a previous chapter, the directions given by Solon for the more orderly recital of the Homeric poems; and it is curious to contrast his reverence for the old epic with the unqualified repugnance which he manifested towards Thespis and the drama,—then just nascent, and holding out little promise of its subsequent excellence. Tragedy and comedy were now beginning to be grafted on the lyric and choric song. First, one actor was provided to relieve the chorus,—subsequently, 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 afterwards 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,[244] “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 afterwards attained such unrivalled 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, for which period[245] 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.[246]

On departing from Athens, Solon first visited Egypt, where he communicated largely with Psenôphis of Heliopolis and Sonchis of Saïs, 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 Æreia, said to have been originally founded by Demophôn, son of Theseus; it was then under the dominion of the prince Philokyprus,—each town in Cyprus having its own petty prince. It was situated near the river Klarius, in a position precipitous and secure, but inconvenient and ill-supplied; and Solon persuaded Philokyprus to quit the old site, and establish a new town down in the fertile plain beneath. He himself stayed and became œkist 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 Philokyprus 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 Philokyprus on quitting the island, are yet before us. On the dispositions of this prince, his poem bestowed unqualified commendation.[247]

Besides his visit to Egypt and Cyprus, a story was also current of his having conversed with the Lydian king Crœsus, at Sardis; and 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 Crœsus as hereditary prince.[248]

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 outweighed—which in this case they are not—by good contemporary testimony. The narrative of Solon and Crœsus 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 Crœsus, 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. Crœsus 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 Crœsus, 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 Crœsus had sheltered and protected;[249] and he had hardly 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 Crœsus 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 preëminently pious as the king of Lydia.”[250] In this sad extremity, Crœsus 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 learned in reply the anecdote of the Athenian lawgiver, together with the solemn memento which he had offered to Crœsus 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 Crœsus 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.[251] The life of Crœsus was thus saved, and he became afterwards 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 Hêraklês, which the philosopher Prodikus,[252] 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;[253] the impossibility, for any man, of realizing to himself more than a very moderate share of happiness; the danger from reactionary nemesis, if at any time 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 as a practical consequence from these feelings, a constant protest on the part of the 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 594 B. C., 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 Peisistratus in 560 B. C., 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 pedieis, or opulent proprietors of the plain round Athens, under Lykurgus; the parali of the south of Attica, under Megaklês: and the diakrii, or mountaineers of the eastern cantons, the poorest of the three classes, under Peisistratus, 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 Peisistratus, whose ulterior projects he quickly detected.

The future greatness of Peisistratus is said to have been first portended by a miracle which happened, even before his birth, to his father Hippokratês at the Olympic games. It was realized, partly by his bravery and conduct, which had been displayed in the capture of Nisæa from the Megarians,[254]—partly by his popularity of speech and manners, his championship of the poor,[255] and his ostentatious disavowal of all selfish pretensions,—partly by an artful mixture of stratagem and force. Solon, after having addressed fruitless remonstrances to Peisistratus himself, publicly denounced his designs in verses addressed to the people. The deception, whereby Peisistratus finally accomplished his design, is memorable in Grecian tradition.[256] He appeared one day in the agora of Athens in his chariot with a pair of mules: he had intentionally wounded both his person and the mules, and in this condition he threw himself upon the compassion and defence of the people, pretending that his political enemies had violently attacked him. He implored the people to grant him a guard, and at the moment when their sympathies were freshly aroused both in his favor and against his supposed assassins, Aristo proposed formally to the ekklesia,—the pro-bouleutic senate, being composed of friends of Peisistratus, had previously authorized the proposition,[257]—that a company of fifty club-men should be assigned as a permanent body-guard for the defence of Peisistratus. To this motion Solon opposed a strenuous resistance,[258] but found himself overborne, and even treated as if he had lost his senses. The poor were earnest in favor of it, while the rich were afraid to express their dissent; and he could only comfort himself, after the fatal vote had been passed, by exclaiming that he was wiser than the former and more determined than the latter. Such was one of the first known instances in which this memorable stratagem was played off against the liberty of a Grecian community.

The unbounded popular favor which had procured the passing of this grant, was still farther manifested by the absence of all precautions to prevent the limits of the grant from being exceeded. The number of the body-guard was not long confined to fifty, and probably their clubs were soon exchanged for sharper weapons. Peisistratus thus found himself strong enough to throw off the mask and seize the acropolis. His leading opponents, Megaklês and the Alkmæônids, immediately fled the city, and it was left to the venerable age and undaunted patriotism of Solon to stand forward almost alone in a vain attempt to resist the usurpation. He publicly presented himself in the market-place, employing encouragement, remonstrance, and reproach, in order to rouse the spirit of the people. To prevent this despotism from coming, he told them would have been easy; to shake it off now was more difficult, yet at the same time more glorious.[259] But he spoke in vain; for all who were not actually favorable to Peisistratus listened only to their fears, and remained passive; nor did any one join Solon, when, as a last appeal, he put on his armor and planted himself in military posture before the door of his house. “I have done my duty, he exclaimed at length; I have sustained to the best of my power my country and the laws:” and he then renounced all farther hope of opposition,—though resisting the instances of his friends that he should flee, and returning for answer, when they asked him on what he relied for protection, “On my old age.” Nor did he even think it necessary to repress the inspirations of his Muse: some verses yet remain, composed seemingly at a moment when the strong hand of the new despot had begun to make itself sorely felt, in which he tells his countrymen: “If ye have endured sorrow from your own baseness of soul, impute not the fault of this to the gods. Ye have yourselves put force and dominion into the hands of these men, and have thus drawn upon yourselves wretched slavery.”

It is gratifying to learn that Peisistratus, whose conduct throughout his despotism was comparatively mild, left Solon untouched. How long this distinguished man survived the practical subversion of his own constitution, we cannot certainly determine; but according to the most probable statement he died the very next year, at the advanced age of eighty.

We have only to regret that we are deprived of the means of following more in detail his noble and exemplary character. He represents the best tendencies of his age, combined with much that is personally excellent; the improved ethical sensibility; the thirst for enlarged knowledge and observation, not less potent in old age than in youth; the conception of regularized popular institutions, departing sensibly from the type and spirit of the governments around him, and calculated to found a new character in the Athenian people; a genuine and reflecting sympathy with the mass of the poor, anxious not merely to rescue them from the oppressions of the rich, but also to create in them habits of self-relying industry; lastly, during his temporary possession of a power altogether arbitrary, not merely an absence of all selfish ambition, but a rare discretion in seizing the mean between conflicting exigencies. In reading his poems we must always recollect that what now appears common-place was once new, so that to his comparatively unlettered age, the social pictures which he draws were still fresh, and his exhortations calculated to live in the memory. The poems composed on moral subjects, generally inculcate a spirit of gentleness towards others and moderation in personal objects; they represent the gods as irresistible, retributive, favoring the good and punishing the bad, though sometimes very tardily. But his compositions on special and present occasions are usually conceived in a more vigorous spirit; denouncing the oppressions of the rich at one time, and the timid submission to Peisistratus at another,—and expressing, in emphatic language, his own proud consciousness of having stood forward as champion of the mass of the people. Of his early poems hardly anything is preserved; the few lines which remain seem to manifest a jovial temperament, which we may well conceive to have been overlaid by the political difficulties against which he had to contend,—difficulties arising successively out of the Megarian war, the Kylonian sacrilege, the public despondency healed by Epimenidês, and the task of arbiter between a rapacious oligarchy and a suffering people. In one of his elegies, addressed to Mimnermus, he marked out the sixtieth year as the longest desirable period of life, in preference to the eightieth year, which that poet had expressed a wish to attain;[260] but his own life, as far as we can judge, seems to have reached the longer of the two periods, and not the least honorable part of it—the resistance to Peisistratus—occurs immediately before his death.

There prevailed a story, that his ashes were collected and scattered around the island of Salamis, which Plutarch treats as absurd,—though he tells us at the same time that it was believed both by Aristotle, and by many other considerable men: it is at least as ancient as the poet Kratinus, who alluded to it in one of his comedies, and I do not feel inclined to reject it.[261] The inscription on the statue of Solon at Athens described him as a Salaminian: he had been the great means of acquiring the island for his country,—and it seems highly probable that among the new Athenian citizens who went to settle there, he may have received a lot of land and become enrolled among the Salaminian demots. The dispersion of his ashes in various parts of the island connects him with it as in some sort the œkist; and we may construe that incident, if not as the expression of a public vote, at least as a piece of affectionate vanity on the part of his surviving friends.[262]

We have now reached the period of the usurpation of Peisistratus (B. C. 560), whose dynasty governed Athens—with two temporary interruptions during the life of Peisistratus himself—for fifty years. The history of this despotism, milder than Grecian despotism generally, and productive of important consequences to Athens, will be reserved for a succeeding chapter.