The Last King of Lydia Read Online Free PDF Page A

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?
    ‘I have lived for thirty-six years.’
    ‘So you are only halfway through your life. Do you know for how many days you will live?
    Croesus snorted. ‘What man knows that? Only the Gods know that.’
    ‘Well, in the absence of their authority, let us fall back on probability, and calculation. You may live to seventy. In those seventy years, by our calendar, you will have seen twenty-six
thousand, two hundred and fifty days.’
    Croesus raised an eyebrow. ‘Quite impressive.’
    Solon waved the praise away. ‘I have done this calculation before. Now, half of your days are gone, and they have been happy ones. You are in an enviable position. But what of the thirteen
thousand days that remain? How many of them will be happy? Until you die, you can’t be called happy. Just lucky.’
    ‘You speak of happiness as though you were a merchant tallying taxes and profits. Or a farmer, weighing up happy and unhappy days like ripe and rotten apples from a year’s
harvest.’
    ‘Do you study mathematics?’
    ‘I’m afraid the subject does not interest me.’
    ‘Oh, it should. On my travels I have had many conversations with a rather brilliant young Ionian. Just a boy, but something of a prodigy. He believes that all things can be expressed
through numbers. If so, surely there must be an equation for happiness. If you want to know what happiness is, then set your mathematicians to it. You have the wealth to hire the best in the world,
and they’ll figure it out for you soon enough.’
    Croesus paused. He half opened his mouth to speak several times, but each time he thought better of it, clearly searching for the perfect retort.
    Solon leaned forward and spoke again. ‘You sought words of wisdom from the famous Solon? Here they are. Look to the end, no matter what you are considering. Often enough the Gods give a
man a glimpse of happiness, and then utterly ruin him.’
    Finally, Croesus spoke, calmly and without anger. ‘A wise man should judge wisdom, and a happy man judge happiness,’ he said. ‘What does a miserable old man like you know of
happiness?’
    ‘I have offended you.’
    ‘No,’ Croesus said. ‘I am irritated, and a little bored, but not offended.’
    ‘I shall leave tomorrow.’
    ‘No. Stay for a few days. Relax and enjoy yourself. We shall not speak again, but try to enjoy your stay in my city. You seem to struggle with pleasure, yet I hope you find some of it
here.’ Croesus clapped his hands, and Isocrates came forward onto the balcony. ‘Isocrates is my personal slave. A Hellene, so you should have plenty to talk about together. He will see
to your needs this evening.’ The king stood up, walked forward, and leaned on the balcony with his back to his guest, in a gesture of dismissal.
    Solon stood and bowed. ‘I thank you, Croesus.’ He paused. ‘I wish you all the happiness in the world. That is, after all, what you seem to seek.’
    After Solon had left to go to the guest quarters, Croesus looked at Isocrates. ‘Something else?’
    ‘A Phrygian nobleman called Adrastus begs an audience with you.’
    ‘Do I know him?’
    ‘You know his family.’
    ‘Very well. Send him to me.’ Isocrates bowed and left.
    The king of Lydia turned back and looked out over Sardis, out over the pale buildings, over the thousands of his people who busied themselves with their lives and knew nothing of the thoughts of
their king. He looked down at the rings on his fingers, then back to the couch on which the old philosopher had sat a few moments before.
    He shook his head. And laughed.

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    ‘So. How was the famous Solon?’
    Croesus leaned back and sighed.