After the expulsion of Hippias, the memory of Harmodius and Aristogiton was hallowed by the Athenians in every way which the imagination of a grateful people could devise. Brazen statues were erected in honour of them (by the side of which, in after–times, those of Brutus and Cassius were placed), their descendants were gifted in perpetuity with the privilege of eating in the Prytaneum[174] at the public cost, with select places at the public spectacles, and with immunity from taxes: their names, forbidden to be borne by slaves, were ordered to be celebrated at all future Panathenaic festivals: and if the orators of Athens wished to find a theme agreeable to national vanity, it was to the praises of the tyrant–killers, or the events of the Persian war, that they resorted. Yet, after all these tributes of admiration, it is asserted by Æschines, that “a temperate and governed feeling so modified the character of those benefactors of the state, men supereminent in all virtues, that those who have panegyrised their deeds do yet appear therein to have fallen short of the things performed by them.” This extravagant, or probably pretended, enthusiasm may be endured, though not commended, as a privilege assumed by advocates and public speakers in all ages: but we cannot extend the same toleration to Simonides, who had benefited by the friendship and liberality of the deceased, when he asserts “that a light broke upon Athens when Harmodius and Aristogiton slew Hipparchus.” Their exploit was a favourite subject of the odes[175] with which the musical Athenians enlivened their entertainments, one of which, composed by Callistratus, has been preserved, and is esteemed among the noblest specimens of the lyric muse of Greece. I’ll wreath my sword in myrtle bough, The sword that laid the tyrant low, When patriots, burning to be free, To Athens gave equality. Harmodius, hail! though reft of breath, Thou ne’er shalt feel the stroke of death; The heroes’ happy isles[176] shall be The bright abode allotted thee. I’ll wreathe the sword in myrtle bough, The sword that laid Hipparchus low, When at Minerva’s adverse fane He knelt, and never rose again. While Freedom’s name is understood, You shall delight the wise and good; You dared to set your country free, And gave her laws equality.[177] Nevertheless there seems not to be the smallest ground for supposing that the actors in this tragedy were guided by patriotic motives. The authors who speak of it vary somewhat in the circumstances which they relate, but all agree that it was a private quarrel, a personal offence, which inspired their resolution and their hatred. Many have been the instances in which the wantonness of power exercised on an individual has proved fatal to men who have trampled unopposed upon the liberties of their country, as if it were beneficially ordained that the vices of individuals should work out the general good.