He afterwards ordered that all his treasures, his magnificent apartments, and costly furniture, should be showed him; as if he expected, by the multitude of his fine vessels, jewels, statues, and paintings, to conquer the philosopher's indifference. But these things were not the king; and it was the king that Solon was come to visit, and not the walls and chambers of his palace. He had no notion of making a judgment of the king, or an estimate of his worth, by these outward appendages, but by himself and his own personal qualities. Were we to judge at present by the same rule, we should find many of our great men wretchedly naked and desolate.
When Solon had seen all, he was brought back to the king. Crœsus then asked him, which of mankind in all his travels he had found the most truly happy? “One Tellus,” replied Solon, “a citizen of Athens, a very honest and good man, who, after having lived all his days without indigence, having always seen his country in a flourishing condition, has left children that are universally esteemed, has had the satisfaction of seeing those children's children, and at last died gloriously in fighting for his country.”
Such an answer as this, in which gold and silver were accounted as nothing, seemed to Crœsus to denote a strange ignorance and stupidity. However, as he flattered himself that he should be ranked at least in the second degree of happiness, he asked him, “Who, of all those he had seen, was the next in felicity to Tellus?” Solon answered, “Cleobis and Biton, of Argos, two brothers,[1101] who had left behind them a perfect pattern of fraternal affection, and of the respect due from children to their parents. Upon a solemn festival, when their mother, a priestess of Juno, was to go to the temple, the oxen that were to draw her not being ready, the two sons put themselves to the yoke, and drew their mother's chariot thither, which was above five miles distant. All the mothers of the place, ravished with admiration, congratulated the priestess on being the mother of such sons. She, in the transports of her joy [pg 369] and thankfulness, earnestly entreated the goddess to reward her children with the best thing that heaven can give to man. Her prayers were heard. When the sacrifice was over, her two sons fell asleep in the very temple, and there died[1102] in a soft and peaceful slumber. In honour of their piety, the people of Argos consecrated statues to them in the temple of Delphi.”
“What then,” says Crœsus, in a tone that showed his discontent, “you do not reckon me in the number of the happy?” Solon, who was not willing either to flatter or exasperate him any further, replied calmly: “King of Lydia, besides many other advantages, the gods have given us Grecians a spirit of moderation and reserve, which has produced amongst us a plain, popular kind of philosophy, accompanied with a certain generous freedom, void of pride or ostentation, and therefore not well suited to the courts of kings: this philosophy, considering what an infinite number of vicissitudes and accidents the life of man is liable to, does not allow us either to glory in any prosperity we enjoy ourselves, or to admire happiness in others, which perhaps may prove only transient, or superficial.” From hence he took occasion to represent to him further, “That the life of man seldom exceeds seventy years, which make up in all six thousand two hundred and fifty days, of which no two are exactly alike; so that the time to come is nothing but a series of various accidents, which cannot be foreseen. Therefore, in our opinion,” continued he, “no man can be esteemed happy, but he whose happiness God continues to the end of his life: as for others, who are perpetually exposed to a thousand dangers, we account their happiness as uncertain as the crown is to a person that is still engaged in battle, and has not yet obtained the victory.” Solon retired, when he had spoken these words,[1103] which served only to mortify Crœsus, but not to reform him.
Æsop, the author of the Fables, was then at the court of this prince, by whom he was very kindly entertained. He was concerned at the unhandsome treatment Solon received, and [pg 370] said to him by way of advice: “Solon, we must either not come near princes at all, or speak things that are agreeable to them.” “Say rather,” replied Solon, “that we should either never come near them at all, or else speak such things as may be for their good.”[1104]
In Plutarch's time some of the learned were of opinion, that this interview between Solon and Crœsus did not agree with the dates of chronology. But as those dates are very uncertain, that judicious author did not think this objection ought to prevail against the authority of several credible writers, by whom this story is attested.
What we have now related of Crœsus is a very natural picture of the behaviour of kings and great men, who for the most part are seduced by flattery; and shows us at the same time the two sources from whence that blindness generally proceeds. The one is, a secret inclination which all men have, but especially the great, of receiving praise without any precaution, and of judging favourably of all that admire them, and show an unlimited submission and complaisance to their humours. The other is, the great resemblance there is between flattery and a sincere affection, or a reasonable respect; which is sometimes counterfeited so exactly, that the wisest may be deceived, if they are not very much upon their guard.
Crœsus, if we judge of him by the character he bears in history, was a very good prince, and worthy of esteem in many respects. He had a great deal of good-nature, affability, and humanity. His palace was a receptacle for men of wit and learning, which shows that he himself was a person of learning, and had a taste for the sciences. His weakness was, that he laid too great stress upon riches and magnificence, thought himself great and happy in proportion to his possessions, mistook regal pomp and splendour for true and solid greatness, and fed his vanity with the excessive submissions of those that stood in a kind of adoration before him.
Those learned men, those wits and other courtiers, that surrounded this prince, ate at his table, partook of his pleasures, [pg 371] shared his confidence, and enriched themselves by his bounty and liberality, took care not to thwart the prince's taste, and never thought of undeceiving him with respect to his errors or false ideas. On the contrary, they made it their business to cherish and fortify them in him, extolling him perpetually as the most opulent prince of his age, and never speaking of his wealth, or the magnificence of his palace, but in terms of admiration and rapture; because they knew this was the sure way to please him, and to secure his favour. For flattery is nothing else but a commerce of falsehood and lying, founded upon interest on one side, and vanity on the other. The flatterer desirous to advance himself, and make his fortune; the prince to be praised and admired, because he is his own first flatterer, and carries within himself a more subtile and better prepared poison than any adulation gives him.
That maxim of Æsop, who had formerly been a slave, and still retained somewhat of the spirit and character of slavery, though he had varnished it over with the address of an artful courtier; that maxim of his, I say, which recommended to Solon, “That we should either not come near kings, or say what is agreeable to them,” shows us with what kind of men Crœsus had filled his court, and by what means he had banished all sincerity, integrity, and duty, from his presence. In consequence of which, we see he could not bear that noble and generous freedom in the philosopher, upon which he ought to have set an infinite value; as he would have done, had he but understood the worth of a friend, who, attaching himself to the person, and not to the fortune of a prince, has the courage to tell him disagreeable truths; truths unpalatable, and bitter to self-love at the present, but that may prove very salutary and serviceable for the future. Dic illis, non quod volunt audire, sed quod audisse semper volent. These are Seneca's own words, where he is endeavouring to show of what great use a faithful and sincere friend may be to a prince; and what he adds further seems to be written on purpose for Crœsus: “Give him,”[1105] says he, “wholesome advice. Let a word of [pg 372] truth once reach those ears, which are perpetually fed and entertained with flattery. You will ask me, what service can be done to a person arrived at the highest pitch of felicity? That of teaching him not to trust in his prosperity; of removing that vain confidence he has in his power and greatness, as if they were to endure for ever; of making him understand, that every thing which belongs to and depends upon fortune, is as unstable as herself; and that there is often but the space of a moment between the highest elevation and the most unhappy downfall.”