drous prodigy. Two eagles of supernatural size had alighted on
the roof of Toudo's room while she was still dwelling in her father's
house, and the soothsayers who were consulted prognosticated that the
princess would be the wife of two kings in a single night; and, in
fact, Gyges, having stabbed Sadyattes when his marriage was but just
consummated, forced Toudo to become his wife on the spot without waiting
for the morrow. Other stories were current, in which the events were
related with less of the miraculous element, and which attributed the
success of Gyges to the unbounded fidelity shown him by the Carian
Arselis. In whatever manner it was brought about, his accession marked
the opening of a new era for Lydia. The country had always been noted
for its valiant and warlike inhabitants, but the Heraclidse had not
expended its abundant resources on foreign conquest, and none of the
surrounding peoples suspected that it could again become the seat of a
brilliant empire as in fabulous times.
[Illustration: 181.jpg LYDIAN HORSEMEN]
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Lydian bas-relief now in the
British Museum.
Gyges endeavoured to awaken the military instincts of his subjects. If
he were not actually the first to organise that admirable cavalry corps
which for nearly a century proved itself invincible on the field of
battle, at least he enlarged and disciplined it, giving it cohesion
and daring; and it was well he did so, for a formidable danger already
menaced his newly acquired kingdom. The Cimmerians and Treres, so
long as they did not act in concert, had been unable to overcome the
resistance offered by the Phrygians; their raids, annually renewed, had
never resulted in more than the destruction of a city or the pillaging
of an ill-defended district. But from 690 to 680 B.C. the Cimmerians,
held in check by the bold front displayed by Sennacherib and Esarhaddon,
had at last broken away from the seductions of the east, and poured down
in force on the centre of the peninsula. King Midas, after an heroic
defence, at length gave way before their overwhelming numbers, and,
rather than fall alive into the hands of the barbarians, poisoned
himself by drinking the blood of a bull (676 B.C.).* The flower of his
nobility perished with him, and the people of lower rank who survived
were so terrified by the invasion, that they seemed in one day to lose
entirely the brave and energetic character which had hitherto been
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