Tradition, he says, represented Gyges the ancestor of Crœsus as a hired shepherd, who with many others guarded the imperial flocks in the remoter districts of the country. At this time happened a great earthquake, attended by floods of rain, which, in the parts where they were, opened up a vast chasm in the earth. Gyges arriving alone at the mouth of the gap stood amazed at its depth and magnitude, but observing a practicable descent went down, and roamed through its subterraneous passages. Many marvellous things, according to the mythos, did he there see, and among the rest a hollow brazen horse, with doors in its side, through which looking in, he beheld a colossal naked corpse, with a jewelled ring on its hand. Transferring this to his own finger Gyges departed.
Shortly afterwards, still wearing the signet, he went to the assembly of shepherds, which met monthly, for the purpose of selecting a person to bear the usual report of the flocks to the king. Sitting down among the rest he happened to turn the beavil of his ring towards himself, upon which he became invisible to his companions,[[1810]] as he clearly discovered from their discourse, which proceeded as if about an absent man. Smitten with much wonder he returned the gem to its former position and again became visible. He made the experiment over and over and always with success; upon which, like another Macbeth, a vast scheme of ambition darkly shadowed itself upon his mind, and a crown tinged slightly with blood swam before him. It does not, however, appear that like the Thane of Cawdor he was perplexed with scruples. He does not say,—
“Why do I yield to that suggestion,
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present facts
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought whose murder’s yet but phantasy,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is,