it of his conquests and his riches,
endeavors to win from his visitor Solon an opinion that he is the
happiest of mankind. The latter, after having twice preferred to him
modest and meritorious Grecian citizens, at length reminds him that his
vast wealth and power are of a tenure too precarious to serve as an
evidence of happiness; that the gods are jealous and meddlesome, and
often make the show of happiness a mere prelude to extreme disaster; and
that no man's life can be called happy until the whole of it has been
played out, so that it may be seen to be out of the reach of reverses.
Croesus treats this opinion as absurd, but "a great judgment from God
fell upon him, after Solon was departed--probably (observes Herodotus)
because he fancied himself the happiest of all men." First he lost his
favorite son Atys, a brave and intelligent youth (his only other son
being dumb). For the Mysians of Olympus being ruined by a destructive
and formidable wild boar, which they were unable to subdue, applied for
aid to Croesus, who sent to the spot a chosen hunting force, and
permitted--though with great reluctance, in consequence of an alarming
dream--that his favorite son should accompany them. The young prince was
unintentionally slain by the Phrygian exile Adrastus, whom Croesus had
sheltered and protected, Hardly had the latter recovered from the
anguish of this misfortune, when the rapid growth of Cyrus and the
Persian power induced him to go to war with them, against the advice of
his wisest counsellors. After a struggle of about three years he was
completely defeated, his capital Sardis taken by storm, and himself made
prisoner. Cyrus ordered a large pile to be prepared, and placed upon it
Croesus in fetters, together with fourteen young Lydians, in the
intention of burning them alive either as a religious offering, or in
fulfilment of a vow, "or perhaps (says Herodotus) to see whether some of
the gods would not interfere to rescue a man so preemiently pious as the
king of Lydia." In this sad extremity, Croesus bethought him of the
warning which he had before despised, and thrice pronounced, with a deep
groan, the name of Solon. Cyrus desired the interpreters to inquire whom
he was invoking, and learnt in reply the anecdote of the Athenian
lawgiver, together with the solemn memento which he had offered to
Croesus during more prosperous days, attesting the frail tenure of all
human greatness. The remark sunk deep into the Per