The Fortune Of Croesus

The land of the Hellenes, or Greeks, was not confined to the small

peninsula now known as Greece. Hellenic colonies spread far to the east

and the west, to Italy and Sicily on the one hand, to Asia Minor and the

shores of the Black Sea on the other. The story of the Argonauts

probably arose from colonizing expeditions to the Black Sea. That of

Croesus has to do with the colonies in Asia Minor.



These colon es clung to the coast. Inland lay other nations, to some

extent of Hellenic origin. One of these was the kingdom of Lydia, whose

history is of the highest importance to us, since the conflicts between

Lydia and the coast colonies were the first steps towards the invasion

of Greece by the Persians, that most important event in early Grecian

history.



These conflicts began in the reign of Croesus, an ambitious king of

Lydia in the sixth century before Christ. What gave rise to the war

between Lydia and the Greek settlements of Ionia and AEolia we do not

very well know. An ambitious despot does not need much pretext for war.

He wills the war, and the pretext follows. It will suffice to say that,

on one excuse or another, Croesus made war on every Ionian and AEolian

state, and conquered them one after the other.



First the great and prosperous city of Ephesus fell. Then, one by one,

others followed, till, by the year 550 B.C., Croesus had become lord

and master of every one of those formerly free and wealthy cities and

states. Then, having placed all the colonies on the mainland under

tribute, he designed to conquer the islands as well, and proposed to

build ships for that purpose. He was checked in this plan by the shrewd

answer of one of the seven wise men of Greece, either Bias or Pittacus,

who had visited Sardis, the capital of Lydia.



"What news bring you from Greece?" asked King Croesus of his wise

visitor.



"I am told that the islanders are gathering ten thousand horse, with the

purpose of attacking you and your capital," was the answer.



"What!" cried Croesus. "Have the gods given these shipmen such an idea

as to fight the Lydians with cavalry?"



"I fancy, O king," answered the Greek, "that nothing would please you

better than to catch these islanders here on horseback. But do you not

think that they would like nothing better than to catch you at sea on

shipboard? Would they not avenge on you the misfortunes of their

conquered brethren?"



This shrewd suggestion taught Croesus a lesson. Instead of fighting

the islanders, he made a treaty of peace and friendship with them. But

he continued his conquests on the mainland till in the end all Asia

Minor was under his sway, and Lydia had become one of the great

kingdoms of the earth. Such wealth came to Croesus as a result of his

conquests and unchanging good fortune that he became accounted the

richest monarch upon the earth, while Sardis grew marvellous for its

splendor and prosperity. At an earlier date there had come thither

another of the seven wise men of Greece, Solon, the law-giver of Athens.

What passed between this far-seeing visitor and the proud monarch of

Lydia we have already told.



The misfortunes which Solon told the king were liable to come upon any

man befell Croesus during the remainder of his life. Herodotus, the

historian, tells us the romantic story of how the gods sent misery to

him who had boasted overmuch of his happiness. We give briefly this

interesting account.



Croeus had two sons, one of whom was deaf and dumb, the other, Atys by

name, gifted with the highest qualities which nature has to bestow. The

king loved his bright and handsome son as dearly as he loved his wealth,

and when a dream came to him that Atys would die by the blow of an iron

weapon, he was deeply disturbed in his mind.



How should he prevent such a misfortune? In alarm, he forbade his son to

take part in military forays, to which he had before encouraged him;

and, to solace him for this deprivation, bade him to take a wife. Then,

lest any of the warlike weapons which hung upon the walls of his

apartments might fall and wound him, the king had them all removed, and

stored away in the part of the palace devoted to the women.



But fate had decreed that all such precautions should be in vain. At

Mount Olympus, in Mysia, had appeared a monster boar, that ravaged the

fields of the lowlands and defied pursuit into his mountain retreat.

Hunting parties were sent against him, but the great boar came off

unscathed, while the hunters always suffered from his frightful tusks.

At length ambassadors were sent to Croesus, begging him to send his

son, with other daring youths and with hunting hounds, to aid them rid

their country of this destructive brute.



"That cannot be," answered Croesus, still in terror from his dream.

"My son is just married, and cannot so soon leave his bride. But I will

send you a picked band of hunters, and bid them use all zeal to kill

this foe of your harvests."



With this promise the Mysians were quite content, but Atys, who

overheard it, was not.



"Why, my father," he demanded, "do you now keep me from the wars and the

chase, when you formerly encouraged me to take part in them, and win

glory for myself and you? Have I ever shown cowardice or lack of manly

spirit? What must the citizens or my young bride think of me? With what

face can I show myself in the forum? Either you must let me go to the

chase of this boar, or give a reason why you keep me at home."



In reply Croesus told the indignant youth of his vision, and the alarm

with which it had inspired him.



"Ah!" cried Atys, "then I cannot blame you for keeping this tender watch

over me. But, father, do you not wrongly interpret the dream? It said I

was to die stricken by an iron weapon. A boar wields no such weapon.

Had the dream said I was to die pierced by a tusk, then you might well

be alarmed; but it said a weapon. We do not propose now to fight men,

but to hunt a wild beast I pray you, therefore, let me go with the

party."



"You have the best of me there," said Croesus. "Your interpretation of

the dream is better than mine. You may go, my son."



At that time there was at the king's court a Phrygian named Adrastus,

who had unwittingly slain his own brother and had fled to Sardis, where

he was purified according to the customs of the country, and courteously

received by the king. Croesus sent for this stranger and asked him to

go with the hunting party, and keep especial watch over his son, in case

of an attack by some daring band of robbers.



Adrastus consented, though against his will, his misfortune having taken

from him all desire for scenes of bloodshed. However, he would do his

utmost to guard the king's son against harm.



The party set out accordingly, reached Olympus without adventure, and

scattered in pursuit of the animal, which the dogs soon roused from its

lair. Closing in a circle around the brute, the hunters drew near and

hurled their weapons at it. Not the least eager among the hunters was

Adrastus, who likewise hurled his spear; but, through a frightful

chance, the hurtling weapon went astray, and struck and killed Atys, his

youthful charge. Thus was the dream fulfilled: an iron weapon had slain

the king's favorite son.



The news of this misfortune plunged Croesus into the deepest misery

of grief. As for Adrastus, he begged to be sacrificed at the grave of

his unfortunate victim. This Croesus, despite his grief, refused,

saying,--



"Some god is the author of my misfortune, not you. I was forewarned of

it long ago."



But Adrastus was not to be thus prevented. Deeming himself the most

unfortunate of men, he slew himself on the tomb of the hapless youth.

And for two years Croesus abandoned himself to grief.



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.