THE VISIT TO MEDIA.
B.C. 587-584
Astyages sends for Cyrus.--Cyrus goes to Media.--Cyrus's
reception.--His astonishment.--Sympathy with childhood.--Pleasures
of old age.--Character of Cyrus.--First interview with his
grandfather.--Dress of the king.--Cyrus's considerate reply.--Habits
of Cyrus.--Horsemanship among the Persians.--Cyrus learns
to ride.--His delights.--Amusements with the boys.--The
cup-bearer.--The entertainment.--Cyrus's conversation.--Cyrus
and the Sacian cup-bearer.--Cyrus slights him.--Accomplishments of
the cup-bearer.--Cyrus mimics him.--Cyrus declines to taste the
wine.--Duties of a cup-bearer.--Cyrus's reason for not tasting the
wine.--His description of a feast.--Cyrus's dislike of the
cup-bearer.--His reason for it.--Amusement of the guests.--Cyrus
becomes a greater favorite than ever.--Mandane proposes to return
to Persia.--Cyrus consents to remain.--Fears of Mandane.--Departure
of Mandane.--Rapid progress of Cyrus.--Hunting in the park.--Game
becomes scarce.--Development of Cyrus's powers, both of body and
mind.--Hunting wild beasts.--Cyrus's conversation with his
attendants.--Pursuit of a stag.--Cyrus's danger.--Cyrus's
recklessness.--He is reproved by his companions.--Cyrus kills a
wild boar.--He is again reproved.--Cyrus carries his game
home.--Distributes it among his companions.--Another hunting
party.--A plundering party.--Cyrus departs for Media.--Parting
presents.--The presents returned.--Cyrus sends them
back again.--Character of Xenophon's narrative.--Its
trustworthiness.--Character of Cyrus as given by
Xenophon.--Herodotus more trustworthy than Xenophon.
When Cyrus was about twelve years old, if the narrative which Xenophon
gives of his history is true, he was invited by his grandfather
Astyages to make a visit to Media. As he was about ten years of age,
according to Herodotus, when he was restored to his parents, he could
have been residing only two years in Persia when he received this
invitation. During this period, Astyages had received, through Mandane
and others, very glowing descriptions of the intelligence and vivacity
of the young prince, and he naturally felt a desire to see him once
more. In fact, Cyrus's personal attractiveness and beauty, joined to a
certain frank and noble generosity of spirit which he seems to have
manifested in his earliest years, made him a universal favorite at
home, and the reports of these qualities, and of the various sayings
and doings on Cyrus's part, by which his disposition and character
were revealed, awakened strongly in the mind of Astyages that kind of
interest which a grandfather is always very prone to feel in a
handsome and precocious grandchild.
As Cyrus had been sent to Persia as soon as his true rank had been
discovered, he had had no opportunities of seeing the splendor of
royal life in Media, and the manners and habits of the Persians were
very plain and simple. Cyrus was accordingly very much impressed with
the magnificence of the scenes to which he was introduced when he
arrived in Media, and with the gayeties and luxuries, the pomp and
display, and the spectacles and parades in which the Median court
abounded. Astyages himself took great pleasure in witnessing and
increasing his little grandson's admiration for these wonders. It is
one of the most extraordinary and beautiful of the provisions which
God has made for securing the continuance of human happiness to the
very end of life, that we can renew, through sympathy with children,
the pleasures which, for ourselves alone, had long since, through
repetition and satiety, lost their charm. The rides, the walks, the
flowers gathered by the road-side, the rambles among pebbles on the
beach, the songs, the games, and even the little picture-book of
childish tales which have utterly and entirely lost their power to
affect the mind even of middle life, directly and alone, regain their
magic influence, and call up vividly all the old emotions, even to the
heart of decrepit age, when it seeks these enjoyments in companionship
and sympathy with children or grandchildren beloved. By giving to us
this capacity for renewing our own sensitiveness to the impressions of
pleasure through sympathy with childhood, God has provided a true and
effectual remedy for the satiety and insensibility of age. Let any one
who is in the decline of years, whose time passes but heavily away,
and who supposes that nothing can awaken interest in his mind or give
him pleasure, make the experiment of taking children to a ride or to a
concert, or to see a menagerie or a museum, and he will find that
there is a way by which he can again enjoy very highly the pleasures
which he had supposed were for him forever exhausted and gone.
This was the result, at all events, in the case of Astyages and Cyrus.
The monarch took a new pleasure in the luxuries and splendors which
had long since lost their charm for him, in observing their influence
and effect upon the mind of his little grandson. Cyrus, as we have
already said, was very frank and open in his disposition, and spoke
with the utmost freedom of every thing that he saw. He was, of course,
a privileged person, and could always say what the feeling of the
moment and his own childish conceptions prompted, without danger. He
had, however, according to the account which Xenophon gives, a great
deal of good sense, as well as of sprightliness and brilliancy;
so that, while his remarks, through their originality and point,
attracted every one's attention, there was a native politeness and
sense of propriety which restrained him from saying any thing to give
pain. Even when he disapproved of and condemned what he saw in the
arrangements of his grandfather's court or household, he did it in
such a manner--so ingenuous, good-natured, and unassuming, that it
amused all and offended none.
In fact, on the very first interview which Astyages had with Cyrus, an
instance of the boy's readiness and tact occurred, which impressed his
grandfather very much in his favor. The Persians, as has been already
remarked, were accustomed to dress very plainly, while, on the other
hand, at the Median court the superior officers, and especially the
king, were always very splendidly adorned. Accordingly, when Cyrus
was introduced into his grandfather's presence, he was quite dazzled
with the display. The king wore a purple robe, very richly adorned,
with a belt and collars, which were embroidered highly, and set with
precious stones. He had bracelets, too, upon his wrists, of the most
costly character. He wore flowing locks of artificial hair, and his
face was painted, after the Median manner. Cyrus gazed upon this gay
spectacle for a few moments in silence, and then exclaimed, "Why,
mother! what a handsome man my grandfather is!"
Such an exclamation, of course, made great amusement both for the king
himself and for the others who were present; and at length Mandane,
somewhat indiscreetly, it must be confessed, asked Cyrus which of the
two he thought the handsomest, his father or his grandfather. Cyrus
escaped from the danger of deciding such a formidable question by
saying that his father was the handsomest man in Persia, but his
grandfather was the handsomest of all the Medes he had ever seen.
Astyages was even more pleased by this proof of his grandson's
adroitness and good sense than he had been with the compliment
which the boy had paid to him; and thenceforward Cyrus became an
established favorite, and did and said, in his grandfather's presence,
almost whatever he pleased.
When the first childish feelings of excitement and curiosity had
subsided, Cyrus seemed to attach very little value to the fine clothes
and gay trappings with which his grandfather was disposed to adorn
him, and to all the other external marks of parade and display, which
were generally so much prized among the Medes. He was much more
inclined to continue in his former habits of plain dress and frugal
means than to imitate Median ostentation and luxury. There was one
pleasure, however, to be found in Media, which in Persia he had never
enjoyed, that he prized very highly. That was the pleasure of learning
to ride on horseback. The Persians, it seems, either because their
country was a rough and mountainous region, or for some other cause,
were very little accustomed to ride. They had very few horses, and
there were no bodies of cavalry in their armies. The young men,
therefore, were not trained to the art of horsemanship. Even in their
hunting excursions they went always on foot, and were accustomed to
make long marches through the forests and among the mountains in this
manner, loaded heavily, too, all the time, with the burden of arms and
provisions which they were obliged to carry. It was, therefore, a new
pleasure to Cyrus to mount a horse. Horsemanship was a great art among
the Medes. Their horses were beautiful and fleet, and splendidly
caparisoned. Astyages provided for Cyrus the best animals which could
be procured, and the boy was very proud and happy in exercising
himself in the new accomplishment which he thus had the opportunity to
acquire. To ride is always a great source of pleasure to boys; but in
that period of the world, when physical strength was so much more
important and more highly valued than at present, horsemanship was a
vastly greater source of gratification than it is now. Cyrus felt that
he had, at a single leap, quadrupled his power, and thus risen at once
to a far higher rank in the scale of being than he had occupied
before; for, as soon as he had once learned to be at home in the
saddle, and to subject the spirit and the power of his horse to his
own will, the courage, the strength, and the speed of the animal
became, in fact, almost personal acquisitions of his own. He felt,
accordingly, when he was galloping over the plains, or pursuing deer
in the park, or running over the racecourse with his companions, as
if it was some newly-acquired strength and speed of his own that he
was exercising, and which, by some magic power, was attended by no
toilsome exertion, and followed by no fatigue.
The various officers and servants in Astyages's household, as well as
Astyages himself, soon began to feel a strong interest in the young
prince. Each took a pleasure in explaining to him what pertained to
their several departments, and in teaching him whatever he desired to
learn. The attendant highest in rank in such a household was the
cup-bearer. He had the charge of the tables and the wine, and all the
general arrangements of the palace seem to have been under his
direction. The cup-bearer in Astyages's court was a Sacian. He was,
however, less a friend to Cyrus than the rest. There was nothing
within the range of his official duties that he could teach the boy;
and Cyrus did not like his wine. Besides, when Astyages was engaged,
it was the cup-bearer's duty to guard him from interruption, and at
such times he often had occasion to restrain the young prince from the
liberty of entering his grandfather's apartments as often as he
pleased.
At one of the entertainments which Astyages gave in his palace, Cyrus
and Mandane were invited; and Astyages, in order to gratify the young
prince as highly as possible, set before him a great variety of
dishes--meats, and sauces, and delicacies of every kind--all served in
costly vessels, and with great parade and ceremony. He supposed that
Cyrus would have been enraptured with the luxury and splendor of the
entertainment. He did not, however, seem much pleased. Astyages asked
him the reason, and whether the feast which he saw before him was not
a much finer one than he had been accustomed to see in Persia. Cyrus
said, in reply, that it seemed to him to be very troublesome to have
to eat a little of so many separate things. In Persia they managed, he
thought, a great deal better. "And how do you manage in Persia?" asked
Astyages. "Why, in Persia," replied Cyrus, "we have plain bread and
meat, and eat it when we are hungry; so we get health and strength,
and have very little trouble." Astyages laughed at this simplicity,
and told Cyrus that he might, if he preferred it, live on plain bread
and meat while he remained in Media, and then he would return to
Persia in as good health as he came.
Cyrus was satisfied; he, however, asked his grandfather if he would
give him all those things which had been set before him, to dispose of
as he thought proper; and on his grandfather's assenting, he began to
call the various attendants up to the table, and to distribute the
costly dishes to them, in return, as he said, for their various
kindnesses to him. "This," said he to one, "is for you, because you
take pains to teach me to ride; this," to another, "for you, because
you gave me a javelin; this to you, because you serve my grandfather
well and faithfully; and this to you, because you honor my mother."
Thus he went on until he had distributed all that he had received,
though he omitted, as it seemed designedly, to give any thing to the
Sacian cup-bearer. This Sacian being an officer of high rank, of tall
and handsome figure, and beautifully dressed, was the most conspicuous
attendant at the feast, and could not, therefore, have been
accidentally passed by. Astyages accordingly asked Cyrus why he had
not given any thing to the Sacian--the servant whom, as he said, he
liked better than all the others.
"And what is the reason," asked Cyrus, in reply, "that this Sacian is
such a favorite with you?"
"Have you not observed," replied Astyages, "how gracefully and
elegantly he pours out the wine for me, and then hands me the cup?"
The Sacian was, in fact, uncommonly accomplished in respect to the
personal grace and dexterity for which cup-bearers in those days were
most highly valued, and which constitute, in fact, so essential a part
of the qualifications of a master of ceremonies at a royal court in
every age. Cyrus, however, instead of yielding to this argument, said,
in reply, that he could come into the room and pour out the wine as
well as the Sacian could do it, and he asked his grandfather to allow
him to try. Astyages consented. Cyrus then took the goblet of wine,
and went out. In a moment he came in again, stepping grandly, as he
entered, in mimicry of the Sacian, and with a countenance of assumed
gravity and self-importance, which imitated so well the air and manner
of the cup-bearer as greatly to amuse the whole company assembled.
Cyrus advanced thus toward the king and presented him with the cup,
imitating, with the grace and dexterity natural to childhood, all the
ceremonies which he had seen the cup-bearer himself perform, except
that of tasting the wine. The king and Mandane laughed heartily.
Cyrus then, throwing off his assumed character, jumped up into his
grandfather's lap and kissed him, and turning to the cup-bearer, he
said, "Now, Sacian, you are ruined. I shall get my grandfather to
appoint me in your place. I can hand the wine as well as you, and
without tasting it myself at all."
"But why did you not taste it?" asked Astyages; "you should have
performed that part of the duty as well as the rest."
It was, in fact, a very essential part of the duty of a cup-bearer to
taste the wine that he offered before presenting it to the king. He
did this, however, not by putting the cup to his lips, but by pouring
out a little of it into the palm of his hand. This custom was adopted
by these ancient despots to guard against the danger of being
poisoned; for such a danger would of course be very much diminished by
requiring the officer who had the custody of the wine, and without
whose knowledge no foreign substance could well be introduced into it,
always to drink a portion of it himself immediately before tendering
it to the king.
To Astyages's question why he had not tasted the wine, Cyrus replied
that he was afraid it was poisoned. "What led you to imagine that it
was poisoned?" asked his grandfather. "Because," said Cyrus, "it was
poisoned the other day, when you made a feast for your friends, on
your birth-day. I knew by the effects. It made you all crazy. The
things that you do not allow us boys to do, you did yourselves, for
you were very rude and noisy; you all bawled together, so that nobody
could hear or understand what any other person said. Presently you
went to singing in a very ridiculous manner, and when a singer ended
his song, you applauded him, and declared that he had sung admirably,
though nobody had paid attention. You went to telling stories, too,
each one of his own accord, without succeeding in making any body
listen to him. Finally, you got up and began to dance, but it was out
of all rule and measure; you could not even stand erect and steadily.
Then, you all seemed to forget who and what you were. The guests paid
no regard to you as their king, but treated you in a very familiar and
disrespectful manner, and you treated them in the same way; so I
thought that the wine that produced these effects must have been
poisoned."
Of course, Cyrus did not seriously mean that he thought the wine had
been actually poisoned. He was old enough to understand its nature
and effects. He undoubtedly intended his reply as a playful satire
upon the intemperate excesses of his grandfather's court.
"But have not you ever seen such things before?" asked Astyages. "Does
not your father ever drink wine until it makes him merry?"
"No," replied Cyrus, "indeed he does not. He drinks only when he is
thirsty, and then only enough for his thirst, and so he is not
harmed." He then added, in a contemptuous tone, "He has no Sacian
cup-bearer, you may depend, about _him_."
"What is the reason, my son," here asked Mandane, "why you dislike
this Sacian so much?"
"Why, every time that I want to come and see my grandfather," replied
Cyrus, "this teazing man always stops me, and will not let me come in.
I wish, grandfather, you would let me have the rule over him just for
three days."
"Why, what would you do to him?" asked Astyages.
"I would treat him as he treats me now," replied Cyrus. "I would stand
at the door, as he does when I want to come in, and when he was coming
for his dinner, I would stop him and say, 'You can not come in now;
he is busy with some men.'"
In saying this, Cyrus imitated, in a very ludicrous manner, the
gravity and dignity of the Sacian's air and manner.
"Then," he continued, "when he came to supper, I would say, 'He is
bathing now; you must come some other time;' or else, 'He is going to
sleep, and you will disturb him.' So I would torment him all the time,
as he now torments me, in keeping me out when I want to come and see
you."
Such conversation as this, half playful, half earnest, of course
amused Astyages and Mandane very much, as well as all the other
listeners. There is a certain charm in the simplicity and confiding
frankness of childhood, when it is honest and sincere, which in
Cyrus's case was heightened by his personal grace and beauty. He
became, in fact, more and more a favorite the longer he remained. At
length, the indulgence and the attentions which he received began to
produce, in some degree, their usual injurious effects. Cyrus became
too talkative, and sometimes he appeared a little vain. Still, there
was so much true kindness of heart, such consideration for the
feelings of others, and so respectful a regard for his grandfather,
his mother, and his uncle,[A] that his faults were overlooked, and he
was the life and soul of the company in all the social gatherings
which took place in the palaces of the king.
[Footnote A: The uncle here referred to was Mandane's brother. His
name was Oyaxares. He was at this time a royal prince, the heir
apparent to the throne. He figures very conspicuously in the
subsequent portions of Xenophon's history as Astyages's successor on
the throne. Herodotus does not mention him at all, but makes Cyrus
himself the direct successor of Astyages.]
At length the time arrived for Mandane to return to Persia. Astyages
proposed that she should leave Cyrus in Media, to be educated there
under his grandfather's charge. Mandane replied that she was willing
to gratify her father in every thing, but she thought it would be very
hard to leave Cyrus behind, unless he was willing, of his own accord,
to stay. Astyages then proposed the subject to Cyrus himself. "If you
will stay," said he, "the Sacian shall no longer have power to keep
you from coming in to see me; you shall come whenever you choose.
Then, besides, you shall have the use of all my horses, and of as many
more as you please, and when you go home at last you shall take as
many as you wish with you. Then you may have all the animals in the
park to hunt. You can pursue them on horseback, and shoot them with
bows and arrows, or kill them with javelins, as men do with wild
beasts in the woods. I will provide boys of your own age to play with
you, and to ride and hunt with you, and will have all sorts of arms
made of suitable size for you to use; and if there is any thing else
that you should want at any time, you will only have to ask me for it,
and I will immediately provide it."
The pleasure of riding and of hunting in the park was very captivating
to Cyrus's mind, and he consented to stay. He represented to his
mother that it would be of great advantage to him, on his final return
to Persia, to be a skillful and powerful horseman, as that would at
once give him the superiority over all the Persian youths, for they
were very little accustomed to ride. His mother had some fears lest,
by too long a residence in the Median court, her son should acquire
the luxurious habits, and proud and haughty manners, which would be
constantly before him in his grandfather's example; but Cyrus said
that his grandfather, being imperious himself, required all around
him to be submissive, and that Mandane need not fear but that he
would return at last as dutiful and docile as ever. It was decided,
therefore, that Cyrus should stay, while his mother, bidding her child
and her father farewell, went back to Persia.
After his mother was gone, Cyrus endeared himself very strongly to all
persons at his grandfather's court by the nobleness and generosity of
character which he evinced, more and more, as his mind was gradually
developed. He applied himself with great diligence to acquiring the
various accomplishments and arts then most highly prized, such as
leaping, vaulting, racing, riding, throwing the javelin, and drawing
the bow. In the friendly contests which took place among the boys, to
test their comparative excellence in these exercises, Cyrus would
challenge those whom he knew to be superior to himself, and allow them
to enjoy the pleasure of victory, while he was satisfied, himself,
with the superior stimulus to exertion which he derived from coming
thus into comparison with attainments higher than his own. He pressed
forward boldly and ardently, undertaking every thing which promised
to be, by any possibility, within his power; and, far from being
disconcerted and discouraged at his mistakes and failures, he always
joined merrily in the laugh which they occasioned, and renewed his
attempts with as much ardor and alacrity as before. Thus he made great
and rapid progress, and learned first to equal and then to surpass one
after another of his companions, and all without exciting any jealousy
or envy.
It was a great amusement both to him and to the other boys, his
playmates, to hunt the animals in the park, especially the deer. The
park was a somewhat extensive domain, but the animals were soon very
much diminished by the slaughter which the boys made among them.
Astyages endeavored to supply their places by procuring more. At
length, however, all the sources of supply that were conveniently at
hand were exhausted; and Cyrus, then finding that his grandfather was
put to no little trouble to obtain tame animals for his park,
proposed, one day, that he should be allowed to go out into the
forests, to hunt the wild beasts with the men. "There are animals
enough there, grandfather," said Cyrus, "and I shall consider them all
just as if you had procured them expressly for me."
In fact, by this time Cyrus had grown up to be a tall and handsome
young man, with strength and vigor sufficient, under favorable
circumstances, to endure the fatigues and exposures of real hunting.
As his person had become developed, his mind and manners, too,
had undergone a change. The gayety, the thoughtfulness, the
self-confidence, and talkative vivacity of his childhood had
disappeared, and he was fast becoming reserved, sedate, deliberate,
and cautious. He no longer entertained his grandfather's company by
his mimicry, his repartees, and his childish wit. He was silent; he
observed, he listened, he shrank from publicity, and spoke, when he
spoke at all, in subdued and gentle tones. Instead of crowding forward
eagerly into his grandfather's presence on all occasions, seasonable
and unseasonable, as he had done before, he now became, of his own
accord, very much afraid of occasioning trouble or interruption. He
did not any longer need a Sacian to restrain him, but became, as
Xenophon expresses it, a Sacian to himself, taking great care not to
go into his grandfather's apartments without previously ascertaining
that the king was disengaged; so that he and the Sacian now became
very great friends.
This being the state of the case, Astyages consented that Cyrus
should go out with his son Cyaxares into the forests to hunt at the
next opportunity. The party set out, when the time arrived, on
horseback, the hearts of Cyrus and his companions bounding, when
they mounted their steeds, with feelings of elation and pride. There
were certain attendants and guards appointed to keep near to Cyrus,
and to help him in the rough and rocky parts of the country, and to
protect him from the dangers to which, if left alone, he would
doubtless have been exposed. Cyrus talked with these attendants, as
they rode along, of the mode of hunting, of the difficulties of
hunting, the characters and the habits of the various wild beasts,
and of the dangers to be shunned. His attendants told him that the
dangerous beasts were bears, lions, tigers, boars, and leopards;
that such animals as these often attacked and killed men, and that
he must avoid them; but that stags, wild goats, wild sheep, and wild
asses were harmless, and that he could hunt such animals as they as
much as he pleased. They told him, moreover, that steep, rocky, and
broken ground was more dangerous to the huntsman than any beasts,
however ferocious; for riders, off their guard, driving impetuously
over such ways, were often thrown from their horses, or fell with
them over precipices or into chasms, and were killed.
[Illustration: CYRUS'S HUNTING.]
Cyrus listened very attentively to these instructions, with every
disposition to give heed to them; but when he came to the trial,
he found that the ardor and impetuosity of the chase drove all
considerations of prudence wholly from his mind. When the men got into
the forest, those that were with Cyrus roused a stag, and all set off
eagerly in pursuit, Cyrus at the head. Away went the stag over rough
and dangerous ground. The rest of the party turned aside, or followed
cautiously, while Cyrus urged his horse forward in the wildest
excitement, thinking of nothing, and seeing nothing but the stag
bounding before him. The horse came to a chasm which he was obliged to
leap. But the distance was too great; he came down upon his knees,
threw Cyrus violently forward almost over his head, and then, with a
bound and a scramble, recovered his feet and went on. Cyrus clung
tenaciously to the horse's mane, and at length succeeded in getting
back to the saddle, though, for a moment his life was in the most
imminent danger. His attendants were extremely terrified, though he
himself seemed to experience no feeling but the pleasurable
excitement of the chase; for, as soon as the obstacle was cleared, he
pressed on with new impetuosity after the stag, overtook him, and
killed him with his javelin. Then, alighting from his horse, he stood
by the side of his victim, to wait the coming up of the party, his
countenance beaming with an expression of triumph and delight.
His attendants, however, on their arrival, instead of applauding his
exploit, or seeming to share his pleasure, sharply reproved him for
his recklessness and daring. He had entirely disregarded their
instructions, and they threatened to report him to his grandfather.
Cyrus looked perplexed and uneasy. The excitement and the pleasure of
victory and success were struggling in his mind against his dread of
his grandfather's displeasure. Just at this instant he heard a new
halloo. Another party in the neighborhood had roused fresh game. All
Cyrus's returning sense of duty was blown at once to the winds. He
sprang to his horse with a shout of wild enthusiasm, and rode off
toward the scene of action. The game which had been started, a furious
wild boar, just then issued from a thicket directly before him. Cyrus,
instead of shunning the danger, as he ought to have done, in
obedience to the orders of those to whom his grandfather had intrusted
him, dashed on to meet the boar at full speed, and aimed so true a
thrust with his javelin against the beast as to transfix him in the
forehead. The boar fell, and lay upon the ground in dying struggles,
while Cyrus's heart was filled with joy and triumph even greater than
before.
When Cyaxares came up, he reproved Cyrus anew for running such risks.
Cyrus received the reproaches meekly, and then asked Cyaxares to give
him the two animals that he had killed; he wanted to carry them home
to his grandfather.
"By no means," said Cyaxares, "your grandfather would be very much
displeased to know what you had done. He would not only condemn you
for acting thus, but he would reprove us too, severely, for allowing
you to do so."
"Let him punish me," said Cyrus, "if he wishes, after I have shown him
the stag and the boar, and you may punish me too, if you think best;
but do let me show them to him."
Cyaxares consented, and Cyrus made arrangements to have the bodies of
the beasts and the bloody javelins carried home. Cyrus then presented
the carcasses to his grandfather, saying that it was some game which
he had taken for him. The javelins he did not exhibit directly, but
he laid them down in a place where his grandfather would see them.
Astyages thanked him for his presents, but he said he had no such need
of presents of game as to wish his grandson to expose himself to such
imminent dangers to take it.
"Well, grandfather," said Cyrus, "if you do not want the meat, give it
to me, and I will divide it among my friends." Astyages agreed to
this, and Cyrus divided his booty among his companions, the boys, who
had before hunted with him in the park. They, of course, took their
several portions home, each one carrying with his share of the gift a
glowing account of the valor and prowess of the giver. It was not
generosity which led Cyrus thus to give away the fruits of his toil,
but a desire to widen and extend his fame.
When Cyrus was about fifteen or sixteen years old, his uncle Cyaxares
was married, and in celebrating his nuptials, he formed a great
hunting party, to go to the frontiers between Media and Assyria to
hunt there, where it was said that game of all kinds was very
plentiful, as it usually was, in fact, in those days, in the
neighborhood of disturbed and unsettled frontiers. The very causes
which made such a region as this a safe and frequented haunt for wild
beasts, made it unsafe for men, and Cyaxares did not consider it
prudent to venture on his excursion without a considerable force to
attend him. His hunting party formed, therefore, quite a little army.
They set out from home with great pomp and ceremony, and proceeded to
the frontiers in regular organization and order, like a body of troops
on a march. There was a squadron of horsemen, who were to hunt the
beasts in the open parts of the forest, and a considerable detachment
of light-armed footmen also, who were to rouse the game, and drive
them out of their lurking places in the glens and thickets. Cyrus
accompanied this expedition.
When Cyaxares reached the frontiers, he concluded, instead of
contenting himself and his party with hunting wild beasts, to make an
incursion for plunder into the Assyrian territory, that being, as
Zenophon expresses it, a more noble enterprise than the other. The
nobleness, it seems, consisted in the greater imminence of the danger,
in having to contend with armed men instead of ferocious brutes, and
in the higher value of the prizes which they would obtain in case of
success. The idea of there being any injustice or wrong in this wanton
and unprovoked aggression upon the territories of a neighboring nation
seems not to have entered the mind either of the royal robber himself
or of his historian.
Cyrus distinguished himself very conspicuously in this expedition,
as he had done in the hunting excursion before; and when, at length,
this nuptial party returned home, loaded with booty, the tidings of
Cyrus's exploits went to Persia. Cambyses thought that if his son was
beginning to take part, as a soldier, in military campaigns, it was
time for him to be recalled. He accordingly sent for him, and Cyrus
began to make preparations for his return.
The day of his departure was a day of great sadness and sorrow among
all his companions in Media, and, in fact, among all the members of
his grandfather's household. They accompanied him for some distance on
his way, and took leave of him, at last, with much regret and many
tears. Cyrus distributed among them, as they left him, the various
articles of value which he possessed, such as his arms, and ornaments
of various kinds, and costly articles of dress. He gave his Median
robe, at last, to a certain youth whom he said he loved the best of
all. The name of this special favorite was Araspes. As these his
friends parted from him, Cyrus took his leave of them, one by one, as
they returned, with many proofs of his affection for them, and with a
very sad and heavy heart.
The boys and young men who had received these presents took them home,
but they were so valuable, that they or their parents, supposing that
they were given under a momentary impulse of feeling, and that they
ought to be returned, sent them all to Astyages. Astyages sent them to
Persia, to be restored to Cyrus. Cyrus sent them all back again to his
grandfather, with a request that he would distribute them again to
those to whom Cyrus had originally given them, "which," said he,
"grandfather, you must do, if you wish me ever to come to Media again
with pleasure and not with shame."
Such is the story which Xenophon gives of Cyrus's visit to Media, and
in its romantic and incredible details it is a specimen of the whole
narrative which this author has given of his hero's life. It is not,
at the present day, supposed that these, and the many similar stories
with which Xenophon's books are filled, are true history. It is not
even thought that Xenophon really intended to offer his narrative as
history, but rather as an historical romance--a fiction founded on
fact, written to amuse the warriors of his times, and to serve as a
vehicle for inculcating such principles of philosophy, of morals, and
of military science as seemed to him worthy of the attention of his
countrymen. The story has no air of reality about it from beginning to
end, but only a sort of poetical fitness of one part to another, much
more like the contrived coincidences of a romance writer than like the
real events and transactions of actual life. A very large portion of
the work consists of long discourses on military, moral, and often
metaphysical philosophy, made by generals in council, or commanders in
conversation with each other when going into battle. The occurrences
and incidents out of which these conversations arise always take place
just as they are wanted and arrange themselves in a manner to produce
the highest dramatic effect; like the stag, the broken ground, and
the wild boar in Cyrus's hunting, which came, one after another, to
furnish the hero with poetical occasions for displaying his juvenile
bravery, and to produce the most picturesque and poetical grouping of
incidents and events. Xenophon too, like other writers of romances,
makes his hero a model of military virtue and magnanimity, according
to the ideas of the times. He displays superhuman sagacity in
circumventing his foes, he performs prodigies of valor, he forms the
most sentimental attachments, and receives with a romantic confidence
the adhesions of men who come over to his side from the enemy, and
who, being traitors to old friends, would seem to be only worthy of
suspicion and distrust in being received by new ones. Every thing,
however, results well; all whom he confides in prove worthy; all whom
he distrusts prove base. All his friends are generous and noble, and
all his enemies treacherous and cruel. Every prediction which he makes
is verified, and all his enterprises succeed; or if, in any respect,
there occurs a partial failure, the incident is always of such a
character as to heighten the impression which is made by the final and
triumphant success.
Such being the character of Xenophon's tale, or rather drama, we shall
content ourselves, after giving this specimen of it, with adding, in
some subsequent chapters, a few other scenes and incidents drawn from
his narrative. In the mean time, in relating the great leading events
of Cyrus's life, we shall take Herodotus for our guide, by following
his more sober, and, probably, more trustworthy record.