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

gain.



The government of Corinth, like most of the governments of Greece, was

in early days an oligarchy,--that is, it was ruled by a number of

powerful aristocrats instead of by a single king. In Corinth these

belonged to a single family, named the Bacchiadae (or legendary

descendants of the god Bacchus), who constantly intermarried, and kept

all power to themselves.



But one of this family, Amphion by name, had a daughter, named Labda,

whom none of the Bacchiadae would marry, as she had the misfortune to be

lame. So she married outside the family, her husband being named Aetion,

and a man of noble descent. Having no children, Aetion applied to the

Delphian oracle, and was told that a son would soon be borne to him,

and that this son "would, like a rock, fall on the kingly race and right

the city of Corinth."



The Bacchiadae heard of this oracle, and likewise knew of an earlier one

that had the same significance. Forewarned is forearmed. They remained

quiet, waiting until Aetion's child should be born, and proposing then

to take steps for their own safety.



When, therefore, they heard that Labda had borne a son, they sent ten of

their followers to Petra (the rock), where Aetion dwelt, with

instructions to kill the child. These assassins entered Aetion's house,

and, with murder in their hearts, asked Labda, with assumed

friendliness, if they might see her child. She, looking upon them as

friends of her husband, whom kindly feeling had brought thither, gladly

complied, and, bringing the infant, laid it in the arms of one of the

ruffianly band.



It had been agreed between them that whoever first laid hold of the

child should dash it to the ground. But as the innocent intended victim

lay in the murderer's arms, it smiled in his face so confidingly that he

had not the heart to do the treacherous deed. He passed the child,

therefore, on to another, who passed it to a third, and so it went the

rounds of the ten, disarming them all by its happy and trusting smile

from performing the vile deed for which they had come. In the end they

handed the babe back to its mother, and left the house.



Halting just outside the door, a hot dispute arose between them, each

blaming the others, and nine of them severely accusing the one whose

task it had been to do the cruel deed. He defended himself, saying that

no man with a heart in his breast could have done harm to that smiling

babe,--certainly not he. In the end they decided to go into the house

again, and all take part in the murder.



But they had talked somewhat too long and too loud. Labda had overheard

them and divined their dread intent. Filled with fear, lest they should

return and murder her child, she seized the infant, and, looking eagerly

about for some place in which she might conceal it, chose a cypsel, or

corn-bin, as the place least likely to be searched.



Her choice proved a wise one. The men returned, and, as she refused to

tell them where the child was, searched the house in vain,--none of them

thinking of looking for an infant in a corn-bin. At length they went

away, deciding to report that they had done as they were bidden, and

that the child of Aetion was slain.



The boy, in memory of his escape, was named Cypselus, after the

corn-bin. He grew up without further molestation, and on coming to man's

estate did what so many of the ancients seemed to have considered

necessary, went to Delphi to consult the oracle.



The pythoness, or priestess of Apollo, at his approach, hailed him as

king of Corinth. "He and his children, but not his children's children."

And the oracle, as was often the case, produced its own accomplishment,

for it encouraged Cypselus to head a rebellion against the oligarchy, by

which it was overthrown and he made king. For thirty years thereafter he

reigned as tyrant of Corinth, with a prosperous but harsh rule. Many of

the Corinthians were put to death by him, others robbed of their

fortunes, and others banished the state. Then he died and left the

government to his son Periander.



Periander began his reign in a mild spirit. But his manner changed after

he had sent a herald to Thrasybulus, the tyrant of Miletus, asking his

advice how he could best rule with honor and fortune. Thrasybulus led

the messenger outside the city and through a field of corn, questioning

him as they walked, while, whenever he came to an ear of corn that

overtopped its fellows, he broke it off and threw it aside. Thus his

path through the field was marked by the downfall of all the tallest

stems and ears. Then, returning to the city, he sent the messenger back

without a word of answer to his petition.



Periander, on his herald's return, asked him what counsel he brought.

"None," was the answer; "not a word. King Thrasybulus acted in the

strangest way, destroying his corn as he led me through the field, and

sending me away without a word." He proceeded to tell how the monarch

had acted.



Periander was quick to gather his brother tyrant's meaning. If he would

rule in safety he must cut off the loftiest heads,--signified by the

tall ears of corn. He took the advice thus suggested, and from that time

on treated his subjects with the greatest cruelty. Many of those whom

Cypselus had spared he put to death or banished, and acted the tyrant in

the fullest sense of the word.



He even killed his wife Melissa; just why, we do not know. But we are

told that she afterwards appeared to him in a dream and said that she

was cold, being destitute of clothes. The garments he had buried with

her were of no use to her spirit, since they had not been burned.

Periander took his own way to quiet and clothe the restless ghost. He

proclaimed that all the wives of Corinth should go to the temple of

Juno. This they did, dressed in their best, deeming it a festival. When

they were all within he closed the doors, and had them stripped of their

rich robes and ornaments, which he threw into a pit and set on fire,

calling on the name of Melissa as they burned. And in this way the

demand of the shivering ghost was satisfied.



Periander had two sons,--the elder a dunce, the younger, Lycophron (or

wolf-heart), a youth of noble nature and fine intellect. He sent them on

a visit to Proclus, their mother's father, and from him the boys

learned, what they had not known before, that their father was their

mother's murderer.



This story did not trouble the dull-brained elder, but Lycophron was so

affected by it that on his return home he refused to speak to his

father, and acted so surlily that Periander in anger turned him out of

his house. The tyrant, learning from his elder son the cause of

Lycophron's strange behavior, grew still more incensed. He sent orders

to those who had given shelter to his son that they should cease to

harbor him, And he continued to drive him from shelter to shelter, till

in the end he proclaimed that whoever dared to harbor, or even speak to,

his rebellious son, should pay a heavy fine to Apollo.



Thus, driven from every house, Lycophron took lodging in the public

porticos, where he dwelt without shelter and almost without food. Seeing

his wretched state, Periander took pity on him and bade him come home

and no longer indulge in such foolish and unfilial behavior.






Lycophron's only reply was that his father had broken his own edict by

coming and talking with him, and therefore himself owed the penalty to

Apollo.



Periander, seeing that the boy was uncontrollable in his indignation,

and troubled at heart by the piteous spectacle, now sent him by ship to

the island of Corcyra, a colony of Corinth. As for Proclus, the tyrant

made war upon him for his indiscreet revelation, robbed him of his

kingdom, Epidaurus, and carried him captive to Corinth.



And the years went on, and Periander grew old and unable properly to

handle his affairs. His elder son was incapable of taking his place, so

he sent to Corcyra and asked Lycophron to come to Corinth and take the

kingship of that fair land.



Lycophron, whose indignation time had not cooled, refused even to answer

the message. Then Periander sent his daughter, the sister of Lycophron,

hoping that she might be able to persuade him. She made a strong appeal,

begging him not to let the power pass away from their family and their

father's wealth fall into strange hands, and reminding him that mercy

was a higher virtue than justice.



Her appeal was in vain. Lycophron refused to go back to Corinth as long

as his father remained alive.



Then the desperate old man, at his wits' end through Lycophron's

obstinacy, sent a herald, saying that he would himself come to Corcyra,

and let his son take his place in Corinth as king. To these terms

Lycophron agreed. But there were others to deal with, for, when the

terrified Corcyrians heard that the terrible old tyrant was coming to

dwell in their island, they rose in a tumult and put Lycophron to death.



And thus ended the dynasty of Cypselus, as the oracle had foretold.

Though Periander revenged himself on the Corcyrians, he could not bring

his son to life again, and the children's children of Cypselus did not

come to the throne.



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