Tim Leach: The Last King of Lydia

‘Athens? Oh, yes. More than anything, though my countrymen can be foolish. They once gave me command of an army because of a poem I had written about wise leadership. An army for a poem! They will not believe that a century from now.’ He shook his head. ‘A foolish people, but I have hopes for them yet. It will be a great city one day. I only wish that I had been born a little later, so that I would live to see it.’

‘Are you enjoying your retirement?’

‘Not at all. It is a wretched business, being at the end of one’s life. Travel makes it worse. Wonders are wasted on a homesick man.’

‘Why did you leave Athens in the first place, if you loved it so much?’

‘It was a way to trick the Archons. You see, I was able to pass a number of reforms in spite of their objections.’

‘Reforms?’

‘Yes. In Athens, the wealthy rule in their own interest while the rest suffer in silence. It is the same everywhere, of course, but I wanted to change my own home for the better. Everyone does, I suppose. I spent my life flattering and bullying a group of stubborn old men, so as to enable the passage of a few simple laws.’

‘And what was this trick of yours?’

‘A quirk of Athenian law. One of the only laws that I didn’t try to reform, in case I ever had to make use of it. If the person who passes a law is not in the city, the Archons cannot repeal that law for ten years. It is supposed to discourage political assassination. So they were kind enough to let me pass my laws, thinking that they could overturn them in a year or two. But I announced my retirement and left the city, and they were stuck with my reforms for a decade.’

‘Very clever. I applaud you.’

‘I’m not proud of it. It is a foolish law, and it was low of me to take advantage of it. But I hoped some good might come of it.’

‘Did it?’

‘No.’ Solon said. ‘It is as I thought it would be. They endured my laws for a decade and then they repealed them. . Now I hear that a tyrant has come to power. Psistratus.’

‘You know the man?’

‘Oh yes. I loved him once. Now I must go back to fight him, in whatever way that I can. It will do no good. He will ignore me and humiliate me, and I will die of old age long before he falls from power. So you see, my life has been an empty gesture.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Perhaps I should have stuck to poetry. I was never much of a poet, but it certainly made me happier than politics.’

‘Your politics does sound like a tedious business. A lifetime of work for a few petty changes. I think I prefer my system. A single man commands and is obeyed. Or do you believe a tyranny like mine puts unworthy people in power? A lottery of birth, some call it. Were your politicians the finest men in Athens, the most fit to rule?’

‘No. Quite the opposite, if anything.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. It seems to me that, almost always, only the evil and the insane crave the power to rule.’

Amused, Croesus said: ‘Do you count me as such a man?’

‘No, because you were born to power. You never had to seek it.’

Croesus raised an eyebrow. ‘In that case, are you evil? A madman? You, after all, rose to supreme power in Athens.’

‘No.’ Solon shook his head. ‘I flatter myself enough to believe I belong to another class of men who try to rule.’

‘Who are?’

‘Men who are outraged that the worst of men are those who rise to the top.’ He finished his cup of wine and placed it down carefully.

‘Of course, I became a politician like any other, relying on bribery and trickery to get my way. I realized too late that there are few truly evil men in power. They are mostly weak, ambitious men who fool themselves that they are doing the right thing. That is why I retired. And now I am at the end of a wasted life.’ He leaned back and looked out across the city. ‘Why so many questions, Croesus?’ he said. ‘I cannot believe you are so interested in the life of an old statesman like myself.’

Croesus shrugged, taking up a handful of grapes and chewing on them thoughtfully. ‘I am trying to discover why you are such a miserable man, given the fame that you have earned for your wisdom.’

‘Wisdom doesn’t guarantee happiness. Neither does fame, for that matter.’

‘You should try wealth. It works for me.’

‘Ah. Now I sense we are coming to something important. Perhaps it is my unhappiness that disappoints you, more than anything else.’

‘Yes, you are right.’ Croesus paused. ‘I do have a question for you.’

‘Ask, Croesus.’

‘Who is the happiest person that you have ever met?’

Solon thought for a long time.

‘Tellus,’ he said at last, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into olive oil.

‘Tellus,’ Croesus said carefully, sounding out the name.

‘Yes.’

Croesus looked at Solon, but the Athenian did not elaborate. ‘I haven’t heard of him,’ Croesus said shortly. ‘Who was he?’

‘Tellus? He was an Athenian.’

‘A wealthy man?’

‘Oh no, but he was wealthy enough to keep himself and his family.’ Solon cleared his throat then spoke again. ‘There are many reasons to call him happy. He had many children, and he lived long enough to see his children’s children grow. He was fortunate enough to live in a time when Athens was prosperous and justly governed. He fought in battle against the city of Eleusis, and it was by his efforts that the enemy was routed. He was wounded, and died a few hours later, but he died knowing that he had saved the city he loved. The people of Athens gave him a great funeral at the place where he fell. He was the happiest person that I have known.’

‘Well then, who is the second happiest person you have known?’

‘May I name two men jointly in answer to that?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Then I would name a pair of Argive brothers, Cleobis and Biton.’

‘Go on,’ said the king.

‘They were two farmers who had more than enough to live on, and they were considered the strongest men in their village. They honoured the Gods. During the festival of Hera, their oxen were late returning from the fields, and their mother was too ill to walk into town by herself. So these two men yoked themselves to a cart and pulled her six stades to the temple. They were the toast of the festival, the entire village praising their filial love and their strength, and their mother prayed to Hera that her sons be granted the ultimate blessing. And they were. The two men went to sleep that night and never woke again.’

‘You call this happiness?’

‘They were happy when they died, were they not? What more can we hope for? Besides, their names will not be forgotten. The townspeople made statues in their honour and sent them to Delphi. You can still see them there, if you ever visit the temple.’

‘In all this talk of happy men,’ Croesus said, speaking slowly, ‘there is one name that you have, perhaps, forgotten to mention.’

‘Whose name is that?’

‘Mine.’

Solon looked at Croesus. Then he laughed.

‘Come, you toy with me,’ Croesus said. ‘You promised that you were done with mockery.’

‘I don’t mean to mock you.’

‘Do you hold my happiness in such contempt that you would place me behind these farmers?’ Croesus asked. ‘Look around you. My empire is the greatest in the world. No one has ever possessed such wealth as I do. I have a noble son to carry on my name. My people love me. I am happy. What do I lack that would put me above these men?’

‘Death, Croesus. Perhaps if you were to die at this moment, I might be able to grant you the title that you seek.’

‘Explain yourself.’

‘Croesus, I don’t judge anyone happy until they are dead, and I know how they met their end. That is the moment to judge someone’s happiness; the moment when his entire life is behind him. You are prosperous now, but the Gods have a habit of making life difficult for such people; they do not like to see us mortals become too powerful. Or too happy, for that matter.’ Solon paused. ‘How old are you, Croesus?