The Madness of Cambyses

Never forgetting the valuable lesson he had learned that day he had befriended the fallen Croesus (for the the story click please here), the Persian King of Kings ruled wisely and fairly for all. The Persian Empire ever after became a deeply admired nation, where the vast array of cultures within its endless borders coexisted peacefully as equals. The Empire flourished, Iran became a model of religious freedom and cultural tolerance, and the first laws of human rights were written, and it was one of the earliest nations to deplore slavery. Many nations willingly flocked to the Great King’s court, and many willingly handed over their sovereignty to him. At his death, Cyrus the Great had achieved astonishing things.

King Cambyses
Artist unknown

Cyrus had, in twenty years, transformed an obscure Eurasian tribe into a world superpower. The realm inherited by his son Cambyses was breathtaking in its size. Many great kingdoms and empires had risen and fallen in the Middle East. The Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Medians, the Lydians, the Akkadians, Sumerians and Elamites had all been great powers in their day. The domains of the Persian King included all of them, and were larger than all of them put together. It was so vast that it had not one but four capital cities; Pasargadae, Susa, Babylon and Ecbatana. Still, the Persian Empire was far from its greatest extent. To take up the crown and sceptre left by Cyrus was a formidable challenge indeed. Cambyses, though a little short tempered, seemed worthy of such a challenge. Some years earlier, Cyrus asked the Pharaoh of Egypt, Amasis, for the services of the most skilled oculist in Egypt. Amasis agreed, and sent the man to Persia. But the doctor, furious with the Pharaoh for tearing him away from his family and country, decided to sow the seeds of Egypt’s ruin. Scheming, the doctor approached young Cambyses, and persuaded him to ask Amasis for the hand of his daughter in marriage. The plan was an ingenious one. If Amasis agreed, he would be wracked with personal distress, for alarming were the rumours that reached his ears of the sadistic tendencies of Cambyses. If he refused, it would be tantamount to a declaration of war, and terrifying was the power of Persia. A sleepless night the Pharaoh endured, for the decision all Kings dread was now his. A choice between his Kingdom, and his conscience.


The next morning, he formed a plan. It seemed to him ingenious, for it would benefit both. Many years earlier, he had overthrown his predecessor, Pharaoh Apries, in a rebellion. The last surviving member of his household was his daughter, and Amasis decided to grant her the identity of his daughter, and dress her as a princess of Egypt, and duly she was sent to the Persian court. Cambyses was overjoyed with his splendid bride, and all seemed well. Amasis died of old age, confident that he had honoured his daughter and preserved Egypt. There came a time, however, when Cambyses addressed her by the name of Amasis her father. The girl, unable to tolerate the shame any longer, confessed to the Great King the deception Amasis had woven upon him, and her true identity. It was this simple revelation which brought down the wrath of Cambyses upon Egypt.


All of Persia prepared for war. The legions of Asia marched forth, and the world trembled. All Egypt, and the newly crowned Pharaoh Psammenitus, lamented, for a fresh blow struck. Long had the Pharoahs of Egypt and the Greek cities been friends. But now, lured by riches and power, the Greeks betrayed Egypt, and went over to Cambyses. One such traitor told the Great King all he knew from his years of service, and showed him the path by which a strike would be sure to succeed. A valiant stand did Egypt undertake, but the glory days of old were long gone. A new power was rising. The Egyptians were beaten, and fled in disarray, barricading themselves in their capital, Memphis. Cambyses, holding the peoples and culture of Egypt in contempt, sent a herald to Memphis to demand the surrender of Egypt. In one last act of defiance, the Egyptians slew the ambassador and his entourage, accepting their fate. After a gruelling siege, Memphis fell, and with it, after two and a half thousand years of greatness, Ancient Egypt came to an end. The last great nation in the region had now fallen to Persia. There was no other power left which could oppose her. Cambyses, stunning himself at the height his nation had reached, was fired with patriotic fervour, and things more sinister. What could he lose now? The Great King decided to humiliate Psammenitus, and test his resolve.

 

The Persian Empire under Cambyses
Map created by the author

So great was the fear of the increasingly unstable Cambyses, Libya and Cyrenaica surrendered to the Great King without a fight. Not ten days passed before the new Pharaoh, Cambyses, forced Psammenitus and all the nobles of Egypt to bear witness to a cruel spectacle. First, he had Psammenitus’ daughter, and those of the other nobles, dress as slaves and sent them to fetch water out under the burning African Sun. The girls wept bitterly in their humiliation, but greater still did their fathers. Only Psammenitus himself stayed his tears, mingled with frustration and fury as they were, for well did he know the Great King’s ploy. The former Pharaoh merely lowered his head in silence, eyeing the floor. Cruel Cambyses, seeing this, ordered the guards to force his head high. Next came Psammenitus’ only son, mouth bridled and neck tied in rope. In his wake followed two thousand others of the sons of Egypt’s nobility, for the Royal Judges of the Great King had decreed that for each emissary that had been slain by the defenders of Memphis, ten Egyptians would die. Though the other noblemen clasped their heads in their hands, spirits broken, Psammenitus battled for control of his emotion. Once a king, always a king. Never can a king allow his emotion to rule his head. But then, in the wake of the boys, there came an old man, bent with age no less than by the weight of his shackles. Psammenitus saw the man, and recognised him at once, for he had once been his good friend, and many a time had the two dined together, in the days before the coming of Persia. Now the man, stripped of his earthly possessions, wandered the streets as a hapless beggar, trying to get what he could from Persian soldiers. Now at last Psammenitus was moved to tears. The Great King, amazed at this newfound emotion, asked him why he now shed tears for a beggar when he did for his own kin. “Son of Cyrus,” he replied, “my own suffering was too great for tears, but I could not but weep for the trouble of a friend, who has fallen from great wealth and good fortune and has been reduced to beggary on the threshold of old age”. The bold man’s response struck deep in the hearts of all present, Egyptian and Persian alike. Even the Great King himself knew pity for but a moment, and gave orders that the son of Psammenitus be spared his fate.


But ever since Cambyses had set foot in Egyptian lands, a curse had swollen within him, for some force, natural, or supernatural, had begun to unhinge his mind. The Great King, remembering why he had struck against Egypt, advanced on Sais, to the royal tomb of Amasis. There he defiled the sacred dignity of the fallen Pharaoh’s corpse, ordering it lashed and scourged and subjecting it to hideous treatment. Then at last, when he had fulfilled his rage, he ordered it burned. Cremation was a thing deplorable to the people of Ancient Egypt, but so too for the people of Ancient Persia. So did Cambyses defile the customs of his own people, and another. Deeper drove the splinter in his mind. His affliction grew day by day. Soon thirst for glory, sated by his conquest of Egypt, grew strong again. To the South lay the land of the long lived Ethiopians, and great was the lure of their lands, and the end of the known world, to Cambyses. To the King of their people Cambyses sent heralds bearing gifts, offering his ‘friendship’ to Ethiopia. Making the arduous journey through the desert dunes, the ambassadors came. Bowing before the Ethiopian King, they presented their gifts, and request. But the King, a shrewd man, knew they were spies, sent in truth to scout out his lands. The King issued a dire warning to the Great King:


        “ Had he any respect for what is right, he would not have coveted any other
          kingdom than his own, nor made slaves of a people who have done him no
          wrong. So take him this bow, and tell him that the King of Ethiopia has
          some advice to give him: when the Persians can draw a bow of this size thus easily,
          then let him raise an army of greater strength and invade the country of the
          long lived Ethiopians. Till then, let him thank the gods for turning the thoughts
          of the children of Ethiopia to foreign conquest...”
               - THE WARNING OF THE ETHIOPIAN KING


Whereupon the King unstrung the mighty bow and presented it to the ambassadors. With great haste the emissaries returned to Cambyses, and the Ethiopian King’s defiance. Terrible was the rage of the Great King, and closer to the edge of the abyss edged his sanity. Without delay, a declaration of war followed, and with it, one upon Carthage and the people of Siwah for good measure. In his madness, not a thought to the fact that he would be leading his men to the ends of the Earth, he lead fifty thousand men into the desert. Fifty thousand more detached from the host and bore down on Siwah. The force against Carthage, however, stalled. For the Phoenicians, who formed the entire naval force of the Persian Empire, refused to make war upon their own colony, and would not pollute the sacred bond by making war on their own children. So by a hair’s breadth was the great nation of Carthage spared Persian wrath.

The Creeping Death of the Desert
Artist unknown

Not a fifth of the distance to the faraway lands of the Ethiopians had the Great King covered, when the last of the provisions ran dry. The Sun bore down upon their necks. Sweat dripped from their brow. Parched grew their throats.  The Sahara welcomes all, but does not readily bid goodbye. Deeper grew the sand. Each step taken, was a towering effort, as the ground fell away beneath their feet. Hours would it take to reach the crest of the next dune, only then to see the Sahara go ever on, as far as the eye could see. If you have ever been deep into a desert, well will you know the deceptive influences that play havoc upon your judgement. At last, a lake ahead? Forever can you chase it, and never will you reach it. Such is the danger of mirages. This was the danger now which sapped the very life force from the men of Persia. The day came when the first horse collapsed into the sand, spent of its final ounce of energy. Men would kill for but a single droplet of water, others reduced to drinking the blood of their horses. As long as they were able, men ate whatever grass they could find. But then they reached the open desert, and terrible deeds this caused. Days passed, and man and beast alike fell lifeless into the sand. Men drew lots between them. One in ten was chosen, and cannibalism ran rampant throughout the army. There came a time when Cambyses saw his men slaying each other, desperate to stay alive, and at last, even the Great King saw it was useless to keep on. The few stragglers that returned to Thebes were a shadow of the vanguard which had left it. News came of the army which had marched on Siwah. West into the Sahara had they gone, seeking destruction upon the Oracle at Siwah (the very same which would proclaim Alexander the Great as the son of Zeus some two hundred years later). Reports had arrived that they had left the Oasis and marched to the West, but never again were they heard from again. For a sandstorm of terrible ferocity had struck the beleaguered men one day, and the whole army was swallowed by the desert.

The Apis Bull
Image taken from a 21st Dynasty Coffin, Egypt

The terrible heat of the desert, and the horrifying visions it had caused, had now at last shattered the Great King’s sanity, and his madness was absolute. There came not longer after his return to Memphis the time for the festival of Ptah, the creator god and patron deity of Memphis. The people donned their finest clothing, and prepared to receive the Apis bull, a noble beast sacred to Ptah, revered as a god in its own right. The people rejoiced, as the elegant animal was paraded through the street, and they gave thanks to Ptah. When Cambyses saw these things, he asked the priests what the fuss was about. “A god has appeared amongst us!” they joyfully replied. Cruel Cambyses declared them liars and had them dragged away and executed. Given over to insanity, he walked up to Apis, his dagger drawn. With a shout of laughter and a flash of steel, he drove the blade into the beast. Missing its side, he struck its thigh. The Bull roared with pain, before crashing to the ground, blood pouring from its wounded flank. Cambyses, turning to the crowd, laughing maniacally, declared:


              “ Do you call that a god, you poor creatures? Are your gods flesh and blood?
                Do they feel the cut of steel? No doubt a god like that is good enough for the
                Egyptians; but you won’t get away with trying to make a fool of me!”
                          - THE INSANE CAMBYSES TAUNTS THE GODS


The Great King abolished the festival, and any caught honouring the fallen bull was put to death, and the priests were whipped so savagely that their blood drenched the streets. The distraught Egyptians, enraged yet stricken with grief, obeyed by day but resisted by night. When darkness fell, Some brave priests broke free of their captors and gave the Bull a tender funeral, though well they knew they faced Death should they be caught. Cambyses’ insanity grew stronger yet, and hand in hand marched that most fatal scourge of rulers – paranoia. When it transpired that his brother, Smerdis , had been able to string the bow of the Ethiopian King, Cambyses had banished him back to Susa. Then, one night, the Great King had a dream, in which he saw before him a vision of Smerdis seated upon the royal throne, sceptre in hand, and his head touching the sky. His suspicions as to what this could mean tortured him, and ordered his murder in secret. Not only had he committed the atrocity if the slaying of a son of Cyrus, but he had killed his own brother. Next he turned to his sister. Taking  an unnatural attraction to her, the Great King, his mind by now truly lost, resolved to marry her. Summoning his royal judges, he demanded to know if there was any reason why he could not do so. The judges, torn between revulsion, and fear of the unstable King, replied that whilst they could find no written law that allowed brother and sister to wed, there was undoubtedly a law which permitted the King of Persia to do as he pleased. Thus Cambyses violated another law of nature. When brother and sister sat down to eat at the table one day, the woman picked up a lettuce, and began pulling off its leaves. Turning to her new husband, she asked whether he thought it looked better with or without its leaves. The Great King replied that he preferred it before it was stripped. The sister, who knew well the fate of her other brother, replied that Cambyses had treated the House of Cyrus just as she had treated the lettuce. In a maddened rage, the broken King added to his crimes the murder of his sister too.

The Sahara Swallows the Persian Army
Engraving by Alfredo Y Angelo Castiglioni

All Egypt was turned on its head. On Cambyses’ orders, temples were thrown open, and ancient tombs broken asunder, as the crazed machinations of the Great King slowly tore asunder all taboos and customs. Many times could the Great King be found jeering at the statues of gods in the temples, an act no other mortal would dare to do. His moods would swing from uncommon kindness to savage malice. One moment he would order a man executed, then hours later ask to see him, oblivious to his former act. Soon, as the ethical codes of both Egypt and Persia lay in ruins, plots began to form against the insane King. Far away in Persia, the two of the Magi staged a rebellion. One of them also held the name of Smerdis, and even bore a strong resemblance to the Great King’s slain brother. Seizing this chance, he adopted the identity of the fallen brother, knowing well that the name of the House of Cyrus would strike a chord with all. Since the murder of Smerdis was conducted in secret, no one would question his identity.


When news reached Cambyses, the follies of his designs was at last laid bare before him. At last, the truth of his dream was clear. He had polluted his soul with the murder of his brother, all to no avail, and in that moment, the Great King felt a hideous remorse. The pain was so terrible that he lamented his miserable state, and felt his brother and sister’s death with remarkable empathy. Those present, appalled at the Great King’s transgressions against god and nature, could not fail to be moved at the sad sight. For Cambyses, only half aware of what he was doing and where he was, cried as though an infant. Oblivious to the full extent of his crimes, even for the few he was aware of he wept bitter and furious tears, fury for the tortures his mind had been subjected to ever since his arrival in Egypt. Battling for control of his own mind, the Great King leaped onto his horse, his human side desperate to put right all the wrongs. But in that moment, with a scream from Cambyses, came the ominous retribution. For the leather scabbard at the Great King’s side split, and his sword point plunged into his thigh – in the very spot where his dagger had struck the Apis Bull. The Egyptian gods, it seemed, had struck back with the ultimate vengeance. The wound grew gangrenous, and the Great King knew his time drew near. For though the wound would spell his doom, he felt the terrible burden upon his mind lift. Control returned to Cambyses, and there, at the end, it seemed the true son of Cyrus had returned. As the darkness began to fall on his eyes, he turned to his entourage, both Persian and Egyptian alike. “I murdered my brother for nothing, and have lost my kingdom just the same… For now I realise that it is not in human power to avert what is destined to be.” Tears fell down his cheek, and down those of Persian and Egyptian alike, as they saw the dignity of a true Persian King, and saw that the man had endured a terrible fate – ever to be polluted by the savagery of crimes he knew not that he had done. “I pray that the earth may be fruitful for you, your wives bear you children, your flocks multiply and freedom be yours forever…” were among the last words heard to leave Cambyses’ lips. So at last, the tragic son of Cyrus found peace…

Cambyses, son of Cyrus the Great, King of Persia, passed away in 522 BC, after a reign of seven years. He left behind him a kingdom larger than the one he had inherited, but at a terrible personal cost. What caused his madness is to this day unknown. Perhaps schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or porphyria. Perhaps the heat of the desert, and the trauma of it, permanently shattered his mind. Maybe it really was the punishment for Cambyses, the vengeance of the gods of the conquered Egypt. Whatever the cause, one thing was certain. The fate of superpowers had changed forever. One destroyed, one stronger than ever, and one soul a casualty of the ordeal - an unwilling tyrant who lived long enough to know remorse and redemption...

United Kingdom

The Histories of Herodotus:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(The grand story of the rivalry between the East and the West, with a pretty eclectic mix of the most fabulous stories from a plethora of cultures - to read it is a rite of passage!)

United States

The Histories of Herodotus:
The Histories, Revised (Penguin Classics)
(The grand story of the rivalry between the East and the West, with a pretty eclectic mix of the most fabulous stories from a plethora of cultures - to read it is a rite of passage!)

A Way of Life

Why stop at reforging a nation when you can remake its people? It was precisely this idea which gripped Lycurgus now. After so many years spent in exile, and so many years travelling the world, the onetime King of Sparta had singlehandedly built a country, raising her from the brink of destruction to greatness anew (for the first part of the this story, please click here).

Mount Taygetus - Where rejected infants were abandoned
Photograph taken by the author

But it is in the revolutionary education that Lycurgus made Sparta the envy of the world. Seeing the weak and passive boys of Athens, who reclined in their homes being tutored by foreign slaves, Lycurgus resolved to make the sons and daughters of Sparta the most fearsome in all the world. Unique among the nations which have lived in this world, the Spartans practised selective breeding and eugenics upon themselves. When a baby was born, be it a boy or a girl, they would be immediately examined by the senior elder. If the child was strong and healthy, then it would be allowed to live. If the infant displayed any sign of physical deformity or poor health, it would be destroyed, regardless of the parent’s wishes, as it was deemed better for both the child and the state if it were incapable of the formidable demands of the Spartan state. Infants were trained not to fear the dark or being left alone, to eat up their food without fussing, and fits of temper and crying were soon bred out of them. Boys that survived to the age of seven were divided into ‘herds’, and were inducted into the legendary agoge, the brutal path that would turn a boy into a Spartan. The boys exercised vigorously, and perpetually, carefully observed by the older citizens, who spurred them on to fight each other, to ready them for war. They learned to read and write “no more than was necessary”, focusing their training on “obedience, perseverance under stress, and victory in battle”. The older they grew, the more intensive the training. At twelve, each surviving boy was given the iconic red cloak to wear, for all other clothing was forbidden in Sparta. As others wasted fortunes on lavish clothing, Lycurgus reasoned that a powerful body showed the devotion of a man to wellbeing, and silken clothing a hideous corruption of it. Such practice would also harden the boys against the effects of cold and heat. Shoes were forbidden too, to toughen the boy’s soles, so that each was well accustomed to running in the wild. At night, torches were forbidden, so that each would be used to operating in the dark and would have no fear of it.

A Spartan Warrior
Marble statue of the 5th century BC

The ruthless agoge not only honed the body, but the mind too. All boys were allocated to a common mess, and frequently held discussion on important topics with the elders. Each boy was regularly asked to scrutinise his fellow comrades. “Answers had to be reasoned, supported by argument, and at the same time expressed with brevity and conciseness”, defying the stereotype of the Spartans as unthinking warriors. The Spartan’s quick wit and use of few words, from where our adjectives ‘laconic’ or indeed ‘Spartan’ come from, became legendary even in ancient times. Once a foreigner asked the Spartan Eurypontid King Ariston how many fighting men lived at Sparta. “Enough”, replied the King. Centuries later, when King Philip II of Macedon had conquered all the other cities of Greece, he sent an ultimatum to Sparta. “You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people and raze your city”. The Spartans sent a reply of just a single word – “If”. Philip never again dared threaten the Spartans. Once, in a time of crisis, a Spartan who had been crippled in one leg eagerly enlisted with the fighting men. Some were determined to bar him from combat as a result of his injury, he answered, “But what is needed to fight our foes is a man who stands his ground, not one who runs away”. When once a foreign man bragged loudly of his wealth and riches, sneering as he asked where Sparta’s wealth lay, a nearby Spartan declared “Stranger, we are rich in valour and deeds”. During the dramatic Persian invasion of Greece, when just three hundred Spartans faced a Persian army numbering in the millions, the Persian Great King Xerxes sent a herald to the Spartans. “Spartans! Lay down your arms!”, he cried. “PERSIANS! COME AND GET THEM!” the Spartan King Leonidas roared back. When a terrified Greek scout declared that the Persians were so many that their arrows would block out the Sun, one of the three hundred declared, “Excellent, then we shall fight in the shade”. A Spartan ambassador in Athens was once mocked by the Athenians as hailing from an uneducated people. “It serves us well, for we have learned nothing wicked from you”, came the calm reply, wiping smiles clean from Athenian faces. When once a man was invited to a great meal on account of his legendary speeches, and remained silent throughout the entire meal, much criticism of him spread throughout the room. The Spartan King Archidamadas, puzzled by this reaction, pointed out “an expert at speaking also knows when to do so”. When the people of Elis received lavish praise once for their fair conduct of the Olympic Games, only the Spartan King Agis did not join in. The other Greeks angrily turned to him to ask why he was not offering praise. “What great or wonderful achievement is it on their part if they act fairly on just one day in every four years?”, the King retorted. When far away on campaign in Asia, a foreigner asked the Spartan King Agesilaus how far the boundaries of the Spartan domains extended. Seizing his spear, he replied “As far as this can reach”.


Lycurgus decreed that each boy was to be deliberately given rations that were not enough for one person, forcing them to fight and steal. If a boy was caught stealing, he would be savagely beaten and whipped, not for theft, but for incompetence at theft. Indeed, a story abounded how one young Spartan boy was caught after he had stolen a fox cub and hid it under his cloak, but refused to admit his crime, even as the frenzied beast clawed his abdomen open. The idea of retreat in battle was the most polluting shame a man could suffer in Sparta. Death was preferable. If any fled in war, they would be reduced to subhuman status, mocked and beaten in the streets, his family members forbidden from marrying and his name disgraced. Valour was everything, even if it led to death. To die fighting in battle was the highest honour a man could aspire to, and only those Spartan men who died in war were permitted to be buried in a marked grave, as a beacon of inspiration. One man expressed his fears for the safety of Sparta, as the city had no walls to defend it. Lycurgus retorted that “a city cannot be unfortified if it is ringed with brave men and not bricks”. To the end of its days, Sparta never built walls. Lycurgus fondly recalled the division of labour in Egypt, and decreed that all Spartan men were forbidden from practicing any craft, ensuring they focused their life on training for that thing which makes nations free - war - all day, all days. Only during times of war was training relaxed, so that the Spartans would see battle as a respite, and relish it more.

Spartan girls exercising
Painting by Edgar Degas

It was not only the males who trained. Unique among all the civilisations of the ancient world, in Sparta girls too would exercise and devote themselves to physical perfection, even competing in the arenas of sport. By their late teens, a Spartan girl would be more than a match even for the most battle hardened of men from other cities. Some even competed in the Olympic Games. The Spartan Princess Cynisca shocked the Greek world by triumphing in the chariot races, not once, but twice, at the Olympic Games of 396 and 392 BC, making a mockery of the men she raced against. “Why are you Spartan women the only ones who can rule men?” an envious Athenian lady once asked Queen Gorgo of Sparta. “Because we are the only ones who give birth to real men”, the Queen famously replied. Just as the supreme honour was for a man to die in war, for a lady to die in childbirth would warrant her name being immortalised in stone. Lycurgus reasoned that each had entailed the greatest sacrifice for the state, and was worthy of honour.


Lycurgus looked proudly upon the new state he had built, and the Spartan people eagerly accepted it. Summoning the people to assembly, he declared that Sparta was secure, but the greatest reform was yet to come. He volunteered to take the road to Delphi, and hear from the Oracle if his reforms were pleasing to the gods on high. In the meantime, he declared, the people must swear an oath to abide by the laws until his return. This the people readily did, awed by Lycurgus as they were. A path trodden by so many great souls, now Lycurgus followed in their wake to the Oracle’s Mount. ‘Will these laws secure the happiness and greatness of the state?’, spoke the exiled King. The Oracle was unusually forthright. The gods had decreed that Sparta would enjoy an everlasting legacy that would be the envy of the world, and that so long as she obeys the new way of life, she may never fall. Tearful with joy, Lycurgus wrote down the Oracle’s words, and sent them to Sparta. But Lycurgus was a prudent and pious man. Well did he know that many revolutionary ideas die with their creator, and decided to ensure the survival of his masterpiece. Lycurgus, the King who became an exile, and the exile who became the father of a nation, true to his own teachings until the end, decided to give the greatest sacrifice for the state. Ordering his friends to take his ashes and scatter them in the sea, the once exiled King took his own life, so as to never release Sparta from her oath, and to ensure the glory of his city lived forever...


United Kingdom

On Sparta:
On Sparta (Penguin Classics)
(A unique insight into the stories, customs and founding of the Spartan state, written in ancient times)

United States

On Sparta:
On Sparta (Penguin Classics)
(A unique insight into the stories, customs and founding of the Spartan state, written in ancient times)

The Exiled King

Speak today of eugenics and we think of Nazi Germany. Speak today of unwavering loyalty to honour and we think of feudal Japan. Speak today of absolute rejection of wealth and we dream of a more noble tomorrow. But all are far older than many of us would think. It has been done. There was a civilisation once which bound all three into one of the most controversial, admired, and feared states that ever existed. This was the formidable city state of Sparta, the deeds of whose citizens inspire awe and disbelief in equal measure. Here is the story of the man who had the courage to change everything.

Greece in the Classical Era
Map created by the author

Nearly three thousand years ago, in the most archaic times of Greece, there was no Greece. Greece has existed in its present form only since 1830. About five hundred years after the Trojan War, in the Greek Dark Ages, the land was filled with independent city states, each united by a common language, religion and culture, but fiercely divided by their relentless struggle for supremacy over the others. This rivalry, which never truly faded, would one day spell their doom. Around this time, many of the Greek cities were crippled by the squabbles of the rich and the toils of the poor. Whilst the fields of Attica and Boetia were a battleground between Athens and Thebes, two of the most powerful Greek cities, the peninsula to the south lay largely ignored by their high-minded neighbours. But a new power was rising in the Peloponnese (for the story which gave this land its name, please click here). For the tiny city of Sparta, in the eastern lands of Laconia, thrived. Marvelling at its recent conquest of the neighbouring city of Messenia, the Spartans rejoiced, though their city was in a wretched state.

Uniquely, Sparta was ruled by not one, but two Kings, one borne of the Agiad royal line, and his co-ruler hailing from the Eurypontid royal house, who both could claim descent from Heracles and his progeny who had first conquered Laconia in the distant mists of time. For three generations after the days of Heracles (whose own story begins here), Argeia, Queen to the afflicted Spartan King Aristodemus, gave birth to twin boys. Aristodemus lived just long enought to see his sons, dying tragically of illness within days. As was the law, the Spartans declared that the elder son should be hailed as King. But never before had twin boys been born to the royal bloodline. Who is the elder of twins? Both boys were identical, in size and form, and the succession became a crisis. The Spartans asked the Queen which had been born first, but Argeia replied that she was no more able to tell them apart now than they could. In secret, the Queen knew precisely which was which, though she could not bear to favour one over the other. Desperate now, as constitutional crisis meant the crippling of the state, the Spartans sent an urgent envoy to consult the Oracle of Delphi. Employing the arcane wisdom and ambiguity at which she was so adept, the Oracle answered. “May both be crowned as Kings of Sparta, yet to the elder grant the highest of honour”. The Spartans obeyed, but were still at a loss as to who was the elder. Just then, as hope seemed lost, a wise man from Messenia suggested they secretly watch the mother as she washed and fed her twin boys. If she always attended to the same child first, then that must surely be the elder. Seeing a grain of logic in his words, the Spartans obeyed. As they watched, they saw that the Queen did indeed always care for the same one first. The elder boy was named Eurysthenes, and he was crowned the High King, and his brother Procles his fellow King. So was founded the Agiad and Eurypontid royal houses of Sparta, named for their grandsons Agis and Eurypon, which ruled Sparta for near a thousand years. Some of their Kings ruled by oppressive force, and others through total lack of force. Eurypon was the first King to rule as a true man of the people, relaxing his more autocratic powers. Great was his popularity, but within generations, soon all Sparta was wracked by anarchy and strife, and it seemed as though it would become just another Athens. So grave were matters that, in a violent brawl in the streets, the Eurypontid King Eunomus was slain whilst trying to break up a fight. His throne passed to his oldest son, Polydectes, who died himself not long after. It was to Polydectes’ younger brother, Lycurgus, that the future greatness of Sparta owed its glory.

Sparta today, before Mount Taygetus
Photograph taken by Κούμαρης Νικόλαος

Lycurgus, an honourable and austere man, ruled well, but soon came a revelation which troubled the elders. Not long after the death of Polydectes, it became apparent that his widow was bearing a child. Magnanimous as ever he was, Lycurgus decreed that the throne was rightfully the child’s if it turned out to be a boy, and that he would rule as a guardian until the boy was ready. When, some months later, the widow gave birth to a boy, Charilaus, Lycurgus honoured his pledge, declaring the boy the rightful heir to the Eurypontid throne. The Spartan people rejoiced, and praised Lycurgus for his fair and noble character. But, ever ready to lay waste to the best of people is the shadow of envy. Charilaus’ relatives grew wary of Lycurgus, resenting his popularity. Soon suspicion turned to paranoia, and rumours began to spread that Lycurgus desired the throne alone. When at last Lycurgus, resigned to being the target of false charges, heard these fears he decided to leave Sparta until Charilaus was old enough to be crowned, and thus put an end to the false rumours. Forced into exile by his own city, the resourceful Lycurgus decided to travel the world, and see its nations with his own eyes.

Shrewd and charming, Lycurgus earned the respect of all who crossed his path with his insight and sagacity. By leaving behind his own country for the first time, his eyes were opened to the world, and he began to think what he, and his city, could learn from its peoples. His travels carried him further along the road to enlightenment, and further from home. First he landed upon the shores of verdant Crete, and marvelled at the close knit camaraderie of the locals, their fair songs and lyrical poems. The exiled King befriended many prominent Cretans, studying their way of life intently, admiring their ready obedience to the state. If only things were so in Sparta! Then to Asia did wise Lycurgus venture, and horror and disgust was his. For while it was here that he first heard the stories of Troy and the poetry of Homer, he was appalled at the unbridled extravagance and worship of money around every corner of the Ionian cities. Corruption stalked the land with a festering presence, and men fought tooth and nail to swell their fortunes and shatter those of their rivals. The people groaned under the towering burden of the rich, and the wealthy indulged in the most grotesque revelry, utterly oblivious to the ruin of the poor. Lycurgus, shuddering with anger, eagerly scribbled down all that he saw. South then, to Egypt and the land of the Pharaohs. Most awed was the Spartan King, as he saw the efficiency of this realm. Each man and woman scurried about on his or her errand like bees in the hive, all knowing their place and what to do. The soldiers fought, the priests prayed and the builders built. Such division of labour caught Lycurgus’ eager eye. Some say the wise man’s travels even brought him to the courts of India, the sands of Libya and the pillars of Spain.

Lycurgus
One of twenty three portraits of famous lawgivers
to adorn the Chamber of the United States
 House of Representatives

After many years on stranger tides, word reached Lycurgus’ ear, a plea to return from his city of old. Energised by what he had seen in exile like never before, eagerly did he return to the city which bore him. The people of Sparta hailed Lycurgus as a man who was truly a King in heart, though others may wear the crown. Seeing an opportunity to bring all he had learned to bear, Lycurgus seized the chance. Seeing that modifying one law or making some pedantic amendment would be utterly useless, he swept aside the entire constitution, and built a state from the ground up. One of his most dramatic reforms was the abolition of wealth, and the pursuit of it. All gold and silver was seized and melted down, coinage was rendered invalid, and the new system of currency was henceforth to be in iron bars. Lycurgus assigned a tiny value to even a huge weight of iron, such that even a small sum needed substantial storage space and a wagon to carry it. The surface of each bar was doused with vinegar, making it fragile and brittle, rendering the metal useless for anything else. Overnight, almost all crime vanished from Sparta. “For who would set out to steal, or accept as a bribe, or rob, or plunder something which could not be hidden, excited no envy when possessed, and could not even be profitably chopped up?”. Since no other nation would accept such currency, Sparta became completely self-sufficient. No foreign goods flooded the streets, and luxury disappeared. The desire for more money than was necessary became a stigma of the greatest disgrace.


Lycurgus divided all the land of Laconia equally between the Spartan citizens, each part providing just enough farmland to provide for his family. With possessions beyond this prohibited, what was the point of desiring wealth, when there was nothing to spend it on? Recalling the extravagant banquets in Asia, Lycurgus henceforth decreed that all men would live and dine together in common messes. Even the King would dine alongside the citizens in the mess, and each man would bring his share of food from his land. If any man had been out hunting, he would bring along his catch to the mess to share with his comrades. Excessive drinking, which Lycurgus saw as destructive to the mind and the body, was stopped. Lycurgus saw in many other nations, the young and the old mistrusted each other, and never mixed. Here in Sparta, young and old lived and dined together. The young listened in reverence to the stories and wisdom of the old, and the old had the joy of sharing their experiences and inspiring the young. Power at Sparta was now in the hands of the newly created Great Council, consisting of the two Kings and twenty eight elected elders, for whom the age of sixty was a minimum requirement. That way, Lycurgus reasoned, men would be motivated to lead virtuous lives for all of their years, not just a few, and their help of the young in the messes might be rewarded by a place on the council. The Elders could champion the people should the Kings fall to tyranny, or side with the Kings should democracy need to be resisted.

Satisfied that politics had been cured of its maladies, Lycurgus turned to his most legendary reforms. After all, he thought, why just change a state when you can change its people too? Seeing that all the evils that afflict nations stem from the evils of individuals, Lycurgus embarked on an unprecendented revolution. But this would be no mere toppling of a tyrant, only to be replaced by a greater one, such as those which have characterised almost every revolution in history. This time it would run far deeper, changing forever the way that people lived their very lives, and creating a new nation which would be feared and respected even two and half thousand years later...



                                          To be continued...


United Kingdom

On Sparta:
On Sparta (Penguin Classics)
(A unique insight into the stories, customs and founding of the Spartan state, written in ancient times)

United States

On Sparta:
On Sparta (Penguin Classics)
(A unique insight into the stories, customs and founding of the Spartan state, written in ancient times)

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)

The Labours Continue

Today we return to the story of Heracles, who, desperate for salvation, embarked on a grueling series of tasks to prove himself worthy of immortality - the Labours of Heracles. King Eurystheus, acting by the will of Hera, determined that Heracles should never complete his task, and concocted the Labours as impossible for a mortal man to achieve (for the beginning of this sage, please click here). But, defying belief, Heracles had slain the Lion of Nemea, and the Hydra of Lernaea, both fearsome monsters descended from Typhon himself.

Heracles captures the Ceryneian Hind
Painting in the New Museum, Berlin.

Returned to the mighty walled city of Tiryns, Heracles shouted with frustration when Eurystheus declared the slaying of the Hydra void, since Heracles had achieved it with help. Secretly, the King was afraid that Heracles might prove successful in the tasks he had planned, and crafted ever more daring ones to come. Having conquered two of Typhon's brood (for more about Typhon, the greatest monster in Greek Mythology, please click here), Heracles had proved himself as a warrior, but now it was to be his endurance which would undergo trial. For his Third Labour, Eurystheus commanded Heracles to trap and bring to him the Hind of Ceryneia, without inflicting any injury on the creature. This was no ordinary deer however. The Hind was sacred to the goddess Artemis, Lady of the Hunt. It was said that the Hind bore horns of purest gold, and was as swift as the winds, able to outrun even an arrow in flight. Heracles accepted the challenge, and set forth from strong walled Tiryns, entering the forests of Greece in search of the creature. Awoken one morning by a strong reflection in the forest, Heracles peered through the bushes and saw the magnificent beast. Light shining off its gilded antlers, the Hind charged off through the scrub, as the hero looked on in dismay at the cloud of dust left behind. Undeterred nonetheless, Heracles set off in pursuit. Another sighting, another failed attempt, the Hind bounded off once more. Again, and again, Heracles got only a glimpse of a flash of gold, and the creature was gone. This would not be an easy, or quick, affair. For a whole year man and beast played cat and mouse through the forests of Greece. What Heracles lacked in speed, however, he made up for in sheer endurance. The Hind, exhausted, came close to Mount Artemision, beginning to falter. As it approached the River Ladon, Heracles took a desperate shot with his bow. The arrow struck the ground just before the Hind, and the creature's forelegs stumbled. Sprinting over before it could recover, Heracles heaved the Hind over his shoulders, triumphant. On his return journey, an angered Artemis appeared before Heracles, chastising him for his desecration of her sacred property. Pleading that he caught the Hind not for himself, but for another, however, allayed the goddess' anger. Eurystheus, knowing that the Hind was the goddess' property, secretly hoped Artemis would strike Heracles down, but was foiled again.

Heracles and the Erymanthian Boar
Sculpture in the Lützowplatz, Berlin.

Carrying the majestic Hind back to Tiryns, Heracles proudly displayed his quarry to Eurystheus. Impressed that Heracles had chased - on foot - the swiftest creature that lived on the Earth, the King ordered the hero to acquire another beast of game. Rumours had reached Tiryns that the land of the city of Psophis was being devastated by a monstrous Boar, whose lair lay high on Mount Erymanthos. Eurystheus ordered Heracles to capture the Boar alive and bring it before him. Whereas the Ceryneian Hind was renowned for its speed, the Erymanthian Boar was notoriously ill tempered, having gored to death the last man who was unfortunate enough to cross its path. Setting forth once again, Heracles went on the hunt. Coming across his old friend, the Centaur Pholos, Heracles asked the wise and kindly being his advice. Brute strength and endurance alone would not prevail, came the reply, but wits would conquer the beast. Feasting together, Heracles asked his host for wine, and reluctantly, Pholos opened a jar. The intoxicating smell wafted out of the cave, and filled the nostrils of the other Centaurs. Centaurs, usually docile (and descendants of the condemned Ixion, see here), were particularly susceptible to savagery when inebriated, and the smell alone was enough to achieve this. Mad and drunk, the Centaurs stormed the cave, but Heracles fended them off with burning branches, and arrows. Emerging from the cave, Pholos saw the bodies of so many of his kin and pondered how Heracles could have slain so many. Picking up one of the arrows from a body, he marvelled at how something so small could bring down so large a beast. Distracted by his musings, however, the arrow slipped from his grip and grazed his foot, killing him instantly. What Pholos had not realised was that Heracles' arrows were coated in the lethal poison of the Hydra, which spelled instant death for any mortal. Grieving at his friend's demise, Heracles buried the Centaur, and set off alone in pursuit of the Boar, conscious that he could not use arrows to stop it, as his orders were to capture it alive. High in the mountains, the snows began to fall, as Heracles stalked the Boar. Approaching near from behind a bush, Heracles let out a great shout, and the Boar, startled, fled into the peaks. In its eagerness to flee, the Boar charged straight into a vast snowdrift, and became stranded in its icy prison. Seizing his chance, Heracles bound the exhausted beast in strong chains of iron, and bore it back to Tiryns.

Heracles diverts the rivers
Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

Entering the palace of Eurystheus, Heracles carried the Boar upon his shoulders, hurrying to show the King his catch. The King, however, terrified by the beast, hid inside a jar, and assured Heracles he would accept the task as complete if he just got rid of it. This Heracles obediently did. Humiliated by Heracles glorious achievements, Eurystheus decided that for his next task, Heracles would embark upon something much less glamorous. The King ordered the hero, for his next Labour, that he must clean the stables of Augeias, King of Elis, in a single day without assistance. This was a far more grim prospect than it sounds. The largest stables in Greece, Augeias owned over a thousand cattle, and his stables had never been cleaned. The cattle were no ordinary livestock either. Divinely blessed with good health, they produced exceptional amounts of dung. The squalor and stench of the stables was legendary. Undaunted, Heracles set forth once again from mighty Tiryns. Coming to Elis, Heracles proudly came before Aegeias and his son Phyleus, and vowed to clean the stables in a single day, in return for a tenth of the cattle (cattle, then as much as today, were extremely valuable). Disbelieving, Augeias agreed. Seeing before him the unholy and nauseating sight of the stables, and loathe to perform such a mundane task as cleaning it by hand, Heracles once again turned to wit over weapons. Walking to the boundaries of the stables, the hero made a breach in the outer wall surrounding the cattle herds. Seeing the Alpheios and Peneios rivers flowing nearby, Heracles dug a fresh channel and diverted both rivers through the stables. The roaring torrents of the river carried off over thirty year's worth of filth, and the stables were sparkling. Returning proudly to Augeias, Heracles found the King irate. Never believing it possible, Augeias denied the deal had ever existed, and offered to submit to arbitration. In the court, the casting vote was won when Phyleus, an honourable man, testified to the deal having been made before the King. Furious, Augeias watched as Heracles departed triumphant, with a tenth of his cattle.

Back in Tiryns, King Eurystheus, too, was furious. Seeing Heracles untainted by the filth of the stables, and marching with pristine cattle, the King declared the Labour void, on the grounds that Heracles had undertaken it for payment. Enraged, Heracles for the second time witnessed all his hard work go to waste, bound as he was to Eurystheus word, at the command of the Oracle. But more was yet to come...

United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(A vast collection of stories of old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

United States

The Library of Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(A vast collection of stories of old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)