The Historians' History of the World 03

Aristotle observes that Draco made no change in the constitution; and that there was nothing remarkable in his laws, except the severity of the penalties by which they were enforced. It must however be remembered that the substitution of law for custom, of a written code for a fluctuating and flexible tradition, was itself a step of great importance; and we also learn that he introduced some changes in the administration of criminal justice, by transferring causes of murder, or of accidental homicide, from the cognisance of the archons to the magistrates called ephetes; though it was not clear whether he instituted, or only modified or enlarged, their jurisdiction. Demades was thought to have described the character of his laws very happily, when he said that they were written not in ink, but in blood. He himself is reported to have justified their severity, by observing that the least offences deserved death, and that he could devise no greater punishment for the worst. This sounds like the language of a man who proceeded on higher grounds than those of expediency, and who felt himself bound by his own convictions to disregard the opinions of his contemporaries. Yet it is difficult to believe, that Draco can have been led by any principles of abstract justice, to confound all gradations of guilt, or, as has been conjectured with somewhat greater probability, that, viewing them under a religious rather than a political aspect, he conceived that in every case alike they drew down the anger of the gods, which could only be appeased by the blood of the criminal.

It seems much easier to understand how the ruling class, which adopted his enactments, might imagine that such a code was likely to be a convenient instrument in their hands, for striking terror into their subjects, and stifling the rising spirit of discontent, which their cupidity and oppression had provoked. We are however unable to form a well-grounded judgment on the degree in which equity may have been violated by his indiscriminate vigour; for though we read that he enacted the same capital punishment for petty thefts as for sacrilege and murder, still as there were some offences for which he provided a milder sentence, he must have framed a kind of scale, the wisdom and justice of which we have no means of estimating.

[ca. 630 B.C.]

The danger which threatened the nobles at length showed itself from a side on which they probably deemed themselves most secure. Twelve years after Draco’s legislation, a conspiracy was formed by one of their own number for overthrowing the government. Cylon, the author of this plot, was eminent both in birth and riches. His reputation, and still more his confidence in his own fortune, had been greatly raised by a victory at the Olympic games; and he had further increased the lustre and influence of his family by an alliance with Theagenes, the tyrant of Megara, whose daughter he married. This extraordinary prosperity elated his presumption, and inflamed his ambition with hopes of a greatness, which could only be attained by a dangerous enterprise. He conceived the design of becoming master of Athens. He could reckon on the cordial assistance of his father-in-law, who, independently of their affinity, was deeply interested in establishing at Athens a form of government similar to that which he himself had founded at Megara; and he had also, by his personal influence, insured the support of numerous friends and adherents. Yet it is probable that he would not have relied on these resources, and that his scheme would never have suggested itself to his mind, if the general disaffection of the people toward their rulers, the impatience produced by the evils for which Draco had provided so inadequate a remedy, and by the irritating nature of the remedy itself, and the ordinary signs of an approaching change, the need of which began to be universally felt, had not appeared to favour his aims.