Arachne

It is often falsely believed that our ancestors of the ancient world lived in slavish devotion to their gods, that they prayed daily, sacrificed often and repented frequently, and that the fate of nations lay in the words of Heaven. But like any other culture, there were rebels. Here is the story of one such rebel.

Arachne's admired craft
Fresco by Francesco del Cossa,
Palazzo Schifanoia, Ferrara

There once was a young maiden, skilled in craft. Sacred was her gift, profane her piety. "Low was her birth, and small her native town, she from her art alone obtain'd renown". Dead was her mother, a dyer of Tyrian purple, her father. Content in their small hamlet until Arachne's adolescent years, when the daughter first turned her hand to her immortal craft. Immensely skilled at the loom, the most dazzling displays of weaving were the maiden's forte, and it was not long before her fame began to spread far from her home. Across the plain word spread, over the hills and far through Lydia and beyond her legend grew. From the mortal to the immortal plain her name spread, and oft would the nymphs of the fountains, trees or hills take leave of their hiding places. From the golden rivers the Naiads came, all of them drawn by her legendary art. For the spirits of nature there was little finer that to observe the shapeless wool she wound with fluid motion on the spindle, as the masterpiece took slow but mighty shape. The goddess Minerva, weaver of the gods on high, was woven into every thread, yet scorned was the mistress by the maiden. Never once did Arachne honour the goddess nor reveal the source of her knowledge, neither praising nor cursing, pure and plain silence.

The Spinning Contest
Painting by Diege Velázquez

Upon Arachne Minerva bent her "vengeful mind", angered by the indifference of the maiden toward the gods gion high. "Let us, she cries, but to a trial come, and if she conquers, let her fix my doom". The goddess took the form of a woman bent with age, and came to the house of Arachne. Coming before the prodigal girl, the old woman declared "Young maid attend, nor stubbonly despise the admonitions of the old, and wise; for age, tho' scorn'd, a ripe experience bears". Her experience could lend the girl skill greater still, but only if she petition the gods on high, and pardon her bold presumption that she be greater than the gods. With temper fired Arachne rose, and to the veiled goddess she spoke. She despised the elderly counsel and her blasphemy grew. "If your skilful goddess better knows, let her accept the trial I propose!". "She does", wrathful Minerva replies, "and cloth'd with heavenly light, sprung from her disguise". The nymphs of the plains leapt back in fright, the ladies of hamlet trembled before the awe of divinity. Only the maiden stood unafraid, confident of her earthly, human talents. A brief blush in the cheek she allowed, but swiftly her composure regain'd. Across from each other the board was set, and the looms deployed, both ready to test their skills before the other, and all looked on in apprehension.


At once skilled fingers darted hither and thither across the mantle, human and inhuman, plying their trades as never before. Shining colours lit up the room, finest golds shimmering from the Minervan loom, royal purple from the maiden's mantle, gift of her father. Shades and light were wed on the wool, "as when a show'r transpierc'd with sunny rays, its mighty arch along the heav'n displays". Minerva the glories of the gods on high wove, high on Olympus on lofty thrones. Jupiter the subject, seated proud, and the centre of heaven and the centre of her loom. With awing majesty he all the rest excell'd, but there tood were woven his kin and those of heaven. There too was the hoary lord of the seas, Neptune the son of Saturn, wielding his three pronged trident high, ready to smite the jagged rocks, his steed the hippocampus ready for its master. There herself even, Minerva wove the very image of her own. Blazoning with glory, with glittering arms. With lavishly crested helm and braided hair, shining cuirass and shield resplendent, the image of the goddess stood poised, lance ready at the tilled earth. There the blade struck, and a towering olive blossomed into glorious life. Then, to warn the maiden Arachne,a  rival now, the goddess wove, and wove well. In all the corners four she wove a tale of mortals past, mortals who dared provoke the wrath of gods. In one there was spun Rhodope, King of the warlike Thracians who dared assume the titles of Jupiter, transfigured to a mountain for his pride. In the second corner there lay the image of the venomous Pigmaean dame, who dared profane Juno's holy name, now no more than a feathered crane. To the third Minerva's hands flew, whence the pride of young Antigone grew. Another to scorn the wife of Jove, with her self admired beauty she vyed with the Empress of the Skies. At last to the final corner Minerva flew, and there the image of weeping Cinyras drew. To crown it all at the centre stood, the mighty olive tree woven finer than any mortal could.

Arachne meanwhile chose triumphs of the divine, yet of a somewhat different kind. To the vices of on high she turned, and of the dalliances of Jove she wove. Through the rising surf and roaring tide, Zeus the Thunderer bore Europa upon his stride. Fearful of the ocean deep, up drew the feet of the maid, as though of Poseidon's domain she was afraid. Their too lay Leda a resplendent swan, for whom Jove could be the only one. Appear'd in a shower gold, came the god to Danaë's hold. To Neptune next the maiden turned her hand, casting the hypocrisy of heav'n across the land. Then upon a bursting scene, Arachne wove a valley pristine. Apollo next, roving through the plain, rousing song to banish all pain. Bacchus too could not escape his fate, as ever a slave to the accursed grape.

Minerva's Wrath
Painting by Rubens

All this the bright eyed goddess saw, and grew worried at the outcome of this war. Minerva was moved, great was her anger yet inwardly she approv'd. Magnificent was the maiden's taste, yet greater still Minerva's haste. The scenes she saw of heavenly vices made her wonder, but not before her wrath tore the loom asunder. Upon the terror struck maiden the goddess lunged from great height, retribution for her insubordinate spite. In fear and grief Arachne resolved, to be be of this life absolved. So Minerva watched as Arachne from the beam hung, pity rising as she swung. Calming now, the goddess her regret did announce, though swift was her judgement to pronounce:


     " Live, but depend, vile wretch, the goddess cried, doomed
       suspense forever to be tied; that all your race,
       to utmost date of time, may feel the vengeance, and detest the crime "
              - MINERVA'S CURSE


Turning to leave, Minerva upon the girl a potion poured, and before her eye's was Arachne's new body formed. Not two but eight legs now, the array wondered but knew not how. Her body a spider's now "from which she a thread gives, and still by constant weaving lives".

So came the spider into name, and how their family name 'Arachnid' became...


United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Fall of Croesus

Today we return to the story of Croesus, King of Lydia, paragon of wealth and eager for greatness (for the first part of the story, please click here). "No man may know if he has had a happy life until it is over", came the warning from Solon, but it had fallen upon deaf ears. Croesus had it all, how could it possibly go wrong?

The Summit of Mount Olympus
Photograph taken by 'Jkelly'

However, no man or woman could become too powerful or too beautiful without disaster befalling them. For it was always upon the tallest trees that the old gods hurled their thunderbolts. One night, soon after Solon departed, the gods sent a dream to Croesus, a dream with a dire prophecy, that his own son Atys would be slain by an iron spear. Roused, shaken, from his slumber, Croesus was afraid. Croesus had two sons, one deaf and dumb since birth, and Atys, the pride of the Kingdom. Desperate to ensure the dream would never come to pass, Croesus ordered all spears, swords, javelins and all manner of weapons removed from the men's quarters, and forbade his son to leave the Royal Palace. One day soon after, a delegation arrived from Mysia in Greece. They bowed before the King and pleaded with him to send Atys and his finest men to help them, for a monstrous boar had descended from Mount Olympus, spreading carnage wherever it went. Fearful of the dream, Croesus replied that Atys would have to remain behind, but he would send his finest warriors in his stead. The Mysians were disappointed, but gratefully accepted. Seeing the disheartened delegates, Atys implored his father, begging to be allowed with them. Seeing no way to delay so any longer, Croesus reluctantly told to his son the story of his vision, and how he could never let it come to pass. "What a dream!", Atys exclaimed. Though humble before the gods, Atys was a brave man, and he tried to console his father, explaining that the dream had referred to an iron spear, not a tusk, and he would march against boar, not man, and so he was quite safe. As the commander of the Lydian army, it was his duty to prove himself a man before it too. Delighted at this line of thought, Croesus, relented, and bade his son farewell.


Days passed, and then, a messenger appeared in Sardis, burdened and torn with grief. Atys, the man told Croesus, had been killed. "But how can this be?!" the enraged King shouted. Relating his tragic story, the man told the King that the party had tracked the boar to the very slopes of Olympus, after a long and gruelling chase. As their victory drew near, the boar made to gore the King's son, and, meaning to save him, one of the men had hurled his spear at the creature. But in the thrashing and chaos, the iron point flew far of its target, and transfixed Atys where he stood. Croesus, and Lydians far and wide mourned their heroic prince, and an ominous sense of foreboding gripped the land.

The Persian Empire under Cyrus the Great
Map created by the author

For two whole years, Croesus mourned his son, until news was borne to Sardis that events in the East were moving fast. Far away in Asia, the once great land of the Medes had been overturned in a bloody rebellion, lead by a new man, spoken of far and wide as a divine prodigy. This man's name was Cyrus, and it would not be long before he would take the title of 'the Great'. The new nation that rose in his wake would one day become one of the world's greatest powers - the Persian Empire. Jarred from his grief, Croesus awoke to this new danger. Hearing rumours of Oracles around the world which could bear word of the future, Croesus resolved to send envoys to each, and find for himself which one was truly the greatest conduit to the gods. To the Oasis of Ammon in Libya, to the Sanctuary of Zeus at Dodona, to the Abae in Phocis, to the Pythia at Delphi, and to countless others Croesus sent messengers. Deciding upon a test for each, Croesus sent his men to ask each Oracle exactly what he was doing at that moment in time. Carefully working out on which day his messengers would arrive at the Oracles, Croesus lay in wait. Soon after, the answers of the Oracles began to flood in, and Croesus was disappointed. Just then, the messenger who had been sent to Delphi burst into the Palace with the Pythia's reply:


             " I know the number of grains of sand and the extent of the sea;
               I understand the deaf-mute and hear the words of the dumb.
               My senses detect the smell of tough-shelled tortoise
               Cooked in bronze together with the flesh of lambs;
               Beneath it lies bronze, and bronze covers it "
                                  - THE ORACLE ON CROESUS


Many in the court were deeply puzzled, but Croesus was stunned. For, as a test of the gods, on the day that his messengers came before the Oracle, Croesus decided to do something no person could predict. Going to the beach, he had cut up a tortoise ad a lamb and boiled them inside a bronze pot. The eyes of the Oracle were omniscient indeed if she had seen this. Delphi was declared the greatest Oracle under Heaven, and Croesus showered the sanctuary in his riches, with countless ingots of gold towering high in the treasuries of the Oracle. Croesus sent to the Oracle one last time. Sensing the time had come to face Cyrus at last, the King asked the Oracle whether, if there be war between Lydian and Persian, he would emerge triumphant. In one of the most famous prophecies ever to come from Delphi, the Pythia replied "If you make war on the Persians, you will destroy a great empire". Overjoyed, jubilant and relishing his coming victory, Croesus immediately made preparations for the coming storm. Soon Solon would surely have to concede he was the happiest man alive?


Marching with all haste towards the Halys River, the boundary between Lydia and Persia, Croesus sent gifts and an offer of alliance to the Spartans of Laconia, since the Oracle had advised him to march with the strongest nation in Greece. Sure that he needed no help, Croesus did not wait for assistance, but pressed on, eager for glory. One man who marched with the King, however, had a bad feeling. Speaking the words of the gods, Sandanis, as he was called, urged Croesus to turn back:


             " Their food consists of what they can get, not what they might want,
                because of the ruggedness of their land. They drink no wine, just water,
                and figs are the only good thing they have to eat. They have nothing!
                So if you win, what will you gain from them? But if you are defeated,
                think of all the good things you will lose!... "
                                      - SANDANIS URGES CROESUS TO WITHDRAW

Cyrus the Great
Image taken from a modern sculpture,
currently in Sydney

But Croesus was deaf to all warning. Bridging the Halys in haste, the Lydians and the might of Asia clashed. For a whole day the two powers fought, and thousands fell, both Lydian and Persian alike. As night fell, both sides withdrew to lick their wounds. Croesus, putting the stalemate down to lack of numbers, decided to withdraw to Sardis and await his allies there, assuming that Cyrus' losses were too great to pursue him. But the legions of Asia were without number, and the charisma of their leader was great. A spy in the Lydian camp informed the Persian Great King of Croesus' designs, and he set off in close pursuit. Before the very walls of Sardis, Croesus turned to fight once more, certain that whatever transpired, he would be victorious. The Lydian horseman charged, but were soon thrown into disarray. For as yet a Western horse had never before encountered a camel, and the sight and smell of the strange beasts struck panic into the hearts of the Lydian mounts. Scattering to and fro, the Lydians were thrown behind their walls, and the siege began.


Expecting the siege to be long and his allies to arrive soon, Croesus sat back, still confident of victory. For the great city of Sardis sat atop a dramatic plateau, surrounded by a vast wall but for the short stretch of near vertical cliff at the acropolis where the Palace stood. But, fourteen days later, Cyrus witnessed an opening. A Lydian soldier, who dropped his helmet, scrambled down the escarpment to reclaim it, and quickly climbed back up. Realising it was not as impregnable as it first seemed, Cyrus waited for nightfall, then offered a reward for the first man to reach the top. After an exhausting climb, chaos reigned, and Persian troops rampaged through the city, burning all in their path. Croesus lamented over the darkness of war, for "in peace sons bury their fathers and in war fathers bury their sons". As Persian soldiers bore down upon him within his towering, glittering and golden halls, the terrible truth was at last revealed to Croesus. The Oracle had said that he would destroy a great empire if he marched on Cyrus. She had meant his own.

Croesus on the Pyre
Image taken from a 6th century BC Attic Vase

Croesus was hurled to the floor before the Great King, and the two most powerful lords of Asia met at last. Resolving that he would leave the fate of the former Lydian King to the gods, Cyrus ordered that Croesus be bound atop a vast funeral pyre. If he was truly favoured, the gods would spare him. At the command of the Great King, torches were cast into the timbers, and the flames kindled. As the crackle of burning reached his ears, and sparks began to rise before his eyes, Croesus remembered the words of Solon. The old man had been right, fortune is fickle and only at his death does a man know that his life has been fortunate. Seeing the divine inspiration behind these words, Croesus sighed, and simply repeated the name "Solon" to the Heavens. Far below, Cyrus looked on, curious, and eager to know who it was this man called upon in his last moments. Cyrus's translators called up to him, asking him who Solon was. "Someone whom I would give a fortune to have every ruler in the world meet", Croesus solemnly replied. Stunned, Cyrus begged to know more, as the flames began to rise higher and higher. Accepting his fate, Croesus told Cyrus the story of Solon's lesson, of how he had dismissed all his wealth as meaningless, and how everything had transpired as it had been foretold. As the fire licked the soles of Croesus' feet, Cyrus took pity on him, seeing before him not a foe to be conquered, but another human being, who could just as easily be him. Desperately calling out, Cyrus ordered his men to douse the flames, but it was too late, and the conflagration roared. Embracing his end, Croesus raised his head to the skies, prepared to die. But Apollo, lord of prophecy, remembering Croesus' generosity toward his sanctuary of Delphi, took pity on him, and sent a cloud of rain to douse the fire.


Awed at the sight before him, Cyrus took the broken old man down, weeping that he had tried to destroy a man who was good at heart. "Who was it that persuaded you to invade my country, and be my enemy over my friend?" the Great King asked of him. "It was the god of the Greeks", he replied. So would be sown the first seeds of conflict between the East and the West...

United Kingdom

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
( I can not recommend this enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside is formidable)

United States

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside is formidable)

The Wealth of Croesus

True happiness is not a thing to be measured by one's possessions. The idea that money alone cannot buy happiness is an ancient teaching, and remains today one of the great philosophical maxims which we preach but so rarely practice. It is folly to think that true serenity is something to be bought. This hasn't stopped many from trying however. One such man was Croesus of Lydia.

The Eastern Mediterranean c. 560 BC
Map created by the author

The land in which Croesus grew up was a nation which has largely been lost in the mists of time. For over five centuries, the Kingdom of Lydia had been powerful nation, enjoying the prosperity and envy only a far larger realm would normally bring, when the great King Alyattes died in the five hundred and sixtieth year before Christ. The ruling House of the Mermnadae had been blessed with strong rulers, and their domains had soared to heights of culture long forgotten now. It is testament to the wealth of Lydia that in fact, the first known coins were minted there. The most powerful cities in Asia Minor had all been subdued by the prowess of the Lydian Kings, and even the vast Median Empire in the East was at best an equal. Alyattes had lead the Lydians to war with the Medes at the River Halys, but, at the height of the battle, a solar eclipse occurred (this was indeed a real event), seeing this as an omen from the Heavens, both sides laid down their arms. Alyattes and King Cyaxares of Media decreed that the River Halys would henceforth be the natural boundaries of their realms, and both nations would trouble the other no more. Things were promising indeed when Alyattes son, Croesus, was crowned King of Lydia at the age of thirty five.

The Tribute to Croesus
Painting by Claude Vignon

Thirsty for treasures anew, Croesus turned West and sieged the great city of Ephesus, the greatest metropolis of the Greeks in Asia, and after a time, took the city. By so doing, Croesus became the first foreign foe to subject the Greeks to tribute. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis, the great capital city of Lydia. One by one, the Greek cities of the coast fell to Croesus' might. Beaten, and humiliated, the Greeks in the West submitted to peace with Lydia, as the King overpowered more and more of the peoples of Asia. Soon, Croesus could count among his subjects the Phrygians, Mysians, Mariandynians, Chalybes, Paphlagonians, Thynian and Bithynian Thracians, Carians, Ionians, Dorians, Aeolians and Pamphylians. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis. The prosperity of Croesus grew so great that Lydia became the first nation to ever mint coins in pure gold. Centuries later, the finest offerings stored at the Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi were still the gifts which hailed from Lydia. The fame of Croesus spread throughout the known world, and the power of this foreign King became legend. People far and wide sought trade with the dazzling splendour of his domains. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis. One day, when all the peoples West of the Halys bowed to the Lydian King, when the riches of Sardis were without number, when Croesus stood at the very height of his power, a stranger approached the mighty citadel which housed the royal palace. This man's name was Solon.

Solon comes before Croesus
Painting by Gerard van Honthorst

A native of Athens, a humble and learned man, Solon was himself a renowned statesman, poet and philosopher, who gave many laws to the people of Athens. In his latter days, retired from public life in Athens, Solon set out to see the world, visiting many of the great courts of the Orient. Having graced the court of Pharaoh Amasis in Egypt, at the invitation of Croesus, Solon now came to the palace of Sardis. Croesus gave Solon a lavish room in the palace, and granted him the most extravagant luxuries to furnish his chamber. Soon after his arrival, Croesus gave Solon a spectacular tour of the treasuries, and not a single splendid or shining thing was left unseen, desperate to impress Solon as the King was. Room after room of the most fabulous pearls, emeralds and sapphires stretched before them, as it was once said that Croesus counted his jewels as a man might count the grains of sand in a beach. When at last the glittering tour came to an end, Croesus, burning with pride, turned to his guest and spoke:


         " 'My dear guest from Athens', he said, 'we have often heard about you in Sardis:
            you are famous for your learning and your travels. We hear that you treasure
            knowledge and have journeyed far and wide, to see the world.
            So I really want to ask you whether you have ever come across anyone
            who is happier than everyone else? "
                                         - CROESUS SPEAKS TO SOLON


Solon, without hesitation, replied "Yes my lord: Tellus of Athens". Croesus, taken aback that he himself was not named, asked Solon with urgency to explain why. Solon proceeded to tell the story of Tellus of Athens, a modest man who had many fine sons, and watched them grow old and have many grandchildren, who all survived. At the peak of his life, having enjoyed the fruits of his times, he died a glorious death and was honoured highly by his city. In a war between Athens and Eleusis, Tellus had hurled himself into the breach, routing the Eleusinians at the cost of his own life. His name was remembered by Athens, and a magnificent funeral was granted to him on the spot of his final departure.

Cleobis and Biton
Painting by Nicolas Loir

Croesus listened with amusement at Solon's admiring words of Tellus, as he asked who the second happiest person he knew was, this time certain that he would gain the accolade. "Cleobis and Biton", came the reply, as not for the first or last time, Croesus' face fell. These men made enough to live adequately, and were blessed with great strength, which they put to good use in athletic games. Both brothers were devoted to their family, and earned their fame through their selfless actions. One day there was to be a festival to the goddess Hera at Argos, and the twins' elderly mother was desperate to go. The oxen that were to pull her cart, however, could not be found in the fields. Unfazed, the brothers harnessed themselves to the yoke, setting off with the cart - and their mother - in tow. The brother pulled the cart for forty five stades (a stade being the length of the stadium at Olympia, about 192 metres), all the way to the sanctuary. The gathered people looked on in amazement at the sight before them, as the brothers arrived at the sanctuary at last. The Argive men shouted their awe and congratulations to the brothers for their strength, whilst the Argive women praised the mother for the fortune she had been bestowed in her sons. Overcome with joy, the mother came before the statue of the goddess, and prayed that she would give her sons the finest reward humankind can receive. That night, with the ceremony complete, and the feasting subsided, the brothers at last laid down in the temple to rest. Drained by their immense feat, the brothers never again got up the next morning, as the goddess spirited both away to the Heavens. The Argives, glowing with admiration, raised statues to the twins and dedicated them at Delphi, and honoured them as the best of men.

Solon ended his remarkable story, as Croesus was angered that he had still not been named. "My dear guest from Athens, do you hold our happiness in utter contempt? Is that why you are ranking us lower than even ordinary citizens?" Wise Solon answered the King, "It follows, Croesus, that human life is entirely a matter of chance". A man may live for thirty thousand days, yet it takes but one to raise him to the towering heights, and an instant to hurl him to the deepest depths. Many a man is wealthy yet unlucky, and many a man of moderate means has the blessings of fortune. While the poor man is not as capable of coping with disaster, his good luck will watch over him, as he is stranger to disease and disfigurement and catastrophe, is blessed with fine looks and illustrious progeny. If in addition to all this he dies a heroic death, then he may truly be called happy. Call no man happy until he is dead, just fortunate, for the winds of Fate are fickle indeed. In the real world, no person is truly self sufficient, as one person possesses some things yet lacks others. Yet he "who retains more of these advantages than others, and then dies well, my lord, is the one who, in my opinion, deserves the description in question". Divinity may offer prosperity with one hand and ruin with the other.

These noble words, however, fell on deaf ears, as Croesus was furious that he had still not been confirmed as the happiest man on Earth. Sending Solon away with contempt, the King set about showing the world his true greatness. So began the chain of events which would change the course of civilisation forever...

To be continued...

NOTE: Something must be said about the book from which this story was taken (follow the links below to find it at Amazon). This work has lifetimes' worth of knowledge and understanding within it, with a series of carefully interconnected stories making one majestic tale. If you ever wanted to know where the true conflict between the East and the West began, read this. You will neither regret nor forget it.


United Kingdom

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this work enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside, is formidable)

United States:

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this work enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside, is formidable)