THE STORY OF PANTHEA.
Xenophon's romantic tales.--Panthea a Susian captive.--Valuable
spoil.--Its division.--Share of Cyrus.--Panthea given to
Cyrus.--Araspes.--Abradates.--Account of Panthea's capture.--Her
great loveliness.--Attempts at consolation.--Panthea's renewed
grief.--Cyrus declines to see Panthea.--His reasons.--Araspes's
self-confidence.--Panthea's patience and gentleness.--Araspes's
kindness to Panthea.--His emotions master him.--Araspes in
love.--Progress of the army.--Araspes confesses his love.--Panthea
offended.--Panthea appeals to Cyrus.--Cyrus reproves Araspes.--Cyrus's
generosity.--Araspes's continued distress.--Plan of Cyrus.--Araspes
pretends to desert.--Panthea proposes to send for her husband.--Cyrus
consents.--Joyful meeting of Panthea and her husband.--The armed
chariots.--Abradates's eight-horse chariot.--Panthea's presents for
her husband.--Imposing spectacle.--Panthea's preparations.--Panthea
offers her presents.--Abradates's pleasure.--Abradates departs for
the field.--The farewell.--The order of battle.--Appearance of
Abradates.--The charge.--Terrible havoc made by the chariots.--The
great victory.--The council of war.--Abradates slain.--Panthea's
grief.--Cyrus's kindness to Panthea.--She is inconsolable.--Panthea
kills herself on the dead body of her husband.
In the preceding chapters of this work, we have followed mainly the
authority of Herodotus, except, indeed, in the account of the visit
of Cyrus to his grandfather in his childhood, which is taken from
Xenophon. We shall, in this chapter, relate the story of Panthea,
which is also one of Xenophon's tales. We give it as a specimen of
the romantic narratives in which Xenophon's history abounds, and on
account of the many illustrations of an ancient manners and customs
which it contains, leaving it for each reader to decide for himself
what weight he will attach to its claims to be regarded as veritable
history. We relate the story here in our own language, but as to the
facts, we follow faithfully the course of Xenophon's narration.
Panthea was a Susian captive. She was taken, together with a great
many other captives and much plunder, after one of the great battles
which Cyrus fought with the Assyrians. Her husband was an Assyrian
general, though he himself was not captured at this time with his
wife. The spoil which came into possession of the army on the occasion
of the battle in which Panthea was taken was of great value. There
were beautiful and costly suits of arms, rich tents made of splendid
materials and highly ornamented, large sums of money, vessels of
silver and gold, and slaves--some prized for their beauty, and others
for certain accomplishments which were highly valued in those days.
Cyrus appointed a sort of commission to divide this spoil. He pursued
always a very generous policy on all these occasions, showing no
desire to secure such treasures to himself, but distributing them with
profuse liberality among his officers and soldiers.
The commissioners whom he appointed in this case divided the spoil
among the various generals of the army, and among the different bodies
of soldiery, with great impartiality. Among the prizes assigned to
Cyrus were two singing women of great fame, and this Susian lady.
Cyrus thanked the distributors for the share of booty which they had
thus assigned to him, but said that if any of his friends wished for
either of these captives, they could have them. An officer asked for
one of the singers. Cyrus gave her to him immediately, saying, "I
consider myself more obliged to you for asking her, than you are to me
for giving her to you." As for the Susian lady, Cyrus had not yet seen
her, but he called one of his most intimate and confidential friends
to him, and requested him to take her under his charge.
The name of this officer was Araspes. He was a Mede, and he had been
Cyrus's particular friend and playmate when he was a boy, visiting his
grandfather in Media. The reader will perhaps recollect that he is
mentioned toward the close of our account of that visit, as the
special favorite to whom Cyrus presented his robe or mantle when he
took leave of his friends in returning to his native land.
Araspes, when he received this charge, asked Cyrus whether he had
himself seen the lady. Cyrus replied that he had not. Araspes then
proceeded to give an account of her. The name of her husband was
Abradates, and he was the king of Susa, as they termed him. The reason
why he was not taken prisoner at the same time with his wife was, that
when the battle was fought and the Assyrian camp captured, he was
absent, having gone away on an embassage to another nation. This
circumstance shows that Abradates, though called a king, could hardly
have been a sovereign and independent prince, but rather a governor or
viceroy--those words expressing to our minds more truly the station of
such a sort of king as could be sent on an embassy.
Araspes went on to say that, at the time of their making the capture,
he, with some others, went into Panthea's tent, where they found her
and her attendant ladies sitting on the ground, with veils over their
faces, patiently awaiting their doom. Notwithstanding the concealment
produced by the attitudes and dress of these ladies, there was
something about the air and figure of Panthea which showed at once
that she was the queen. The leader of Araspes's party asked them all
to rise. They did so, and then the superiority of Panthea was still
more apparent than before. There was an extraordinary grace and beauty
in her attitude and in all her motions. She stood in a dejected
posture, and her countenance was sad, though inexpressibly lovely. She
endeavored to appear calm and composed, though the tears had evidently
been falling from her eyes.
The soldiers pitied her in her distress, and the leader of the party
attempted to console her, as Araspes said, by telling her that she had
nothing to fear; that they were aware that her husband was a most
worthy and excellent man; and although, by this capture, she was lost
to him, she would have no cause to regret the event, for she would be
reserved for a new husband not at all inferior to her former one
either in person, in understanding, in rank, or in power.
These well-meant attempts at consolation did not appear to have the
good effect desired. They only awakened Panthea's grief and suffering
anew. The tears began to fall again faster than before. Her grief soon
became more and more uncontrollable. She sobbed and cried aloud, and
began to wring her hands and tear her mantle--the customary Oriental
expression of inconsolable sorrow and despair. Araspes said that in
these gesticulations her neck, and hands, and a part of her face
appeared, and that she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever
beheld. He wished Cyrus to see her.
Cyrus said, "No; he would not see her by any means." Araspes asked him
why. He said that there would be danger that he should forget his duty
to the army, and lose his interest in the great military enterprise in
which he was engaged, if he should allow himself to become captivated
by the charms of such a lady, as he very probably would be if he were
now to visit her. Araspes said in reply that Cyrus might at least see
her; as to becoming captivated with her, and devoting himself to her
to such a degree as to neglect his other duties, he could certainly
control himself in respect to that danger. Cyrus said that it was not
certain that he could so control himself; and then there followed a
long discussion between Cyrus and Araspes, in which Araspes maintained
that every man had the command of his own heart and affections, and
that, with proper determination and energy, he could direct the
channels in which they should run, and confine them within such limits
and bounds as he pleased. Cyrus, on the other hand, maintained that
human passions were stronger than the human will; that no one could
rely on the strength of his resolutions to control the impulses of the
heart once strongly excited, and that a man's only safety was in
controlling the circumstances which tended to excite them. This was
specially true, he said, in respect to the passion of love. The
experience of mankind, he said, had shown that no strength of moral
principle, no firmness of purpose, no fixedness of resolution, no
degree of suffering, no fear of shame, was sufficient to control, in
the hearts of men, the impetuosity of the passion of love, when it was
once fairly awakened. In a word, Araspes advocated, on the subject of
love, a sort of new school philosophy, while that of Cyrus leaned very
seriously toward the old.
In conclusion, Cyrus jocosely counseled Araspes to beware lest he
should prove that love was stronger than the will by becoming himself
enamored of the beautiful Susian queen. Araspes said that Cyrus need
not fear; there was no danger. He must be a miserable wretch indeed,
he said, who could not summon within him sufficient resolution and
energy to control his own passions and desires. As for himself, he was
sure that he was safe.
As usual with those who are self-confident and boastful, Araspes
failed when the time of trial came. He took charge of the royal
captive whom Cyrus committed to him with a very firm resolution to be
faithful to his trust. He pitied the unhappy queen's misfortunes, and
admired the heroic patience and gentleness of spirit with which she
bore them. The beauty of her countenance, and her thousand personal
charms, which were all heightened by the expression of sadness and
sorrow which they bore, touched his heart. It gave him pleasure to
grant her every indulgence consistent with her condition of captivity,
and to do every thing in his power to promote her welfare. She was
very grateful for these favors, and the few brief words and looks of
kindness with which she returned them repaid him for his efforts to
please her a thousand-fold. He saw her, too, in her tent, in the
presence of her maidens, at all times; and as she looked upon him
as only her custodian and guard, and as, too, her mind was wholly
occupied by the thoughts of her absent husband and her hopeless grief,
her actions were entirely free and unconstrained in his presence. This
made her only the more attractive; every attitude and movement seemed
to possess, in Araspes's mind, an inexpressible charm. In a word, the
result was what Cyrus had predicted. Araspes became wholly absorbed in
the interest which was awakened in him by the charms of the beautiful
captive. He made many resolutions, but they were of no avail. While he
was away from her, he felt strong in his determination to yield to
these feelings no more; but as soon as he came into her presence,
all these resolutions melted wholly away, and he yielded his heart
entirely to the control of emotions which, however vincible they might
appear at a distance, were found, when the time of trial came, to
possess a certain mysterious and magic power, which made it most
delightful for the heart to yield before them in the contest, and
utterly impossible to stand firm and resist. In a word, when seen at a
distance, love appeared to him an enemy which he was ready to brave,
and was sure that he could overcome; but when near, it transformed
itself into the guise of a friend, and he accordingly threw down the
arms with which he had intended to combat it, and gave himself up to
it in a delirium of pleasure.
Things continued in this state for some time. The army advanced from
post to post, and from encampment to encampment, taking the captives
in their train. New cities were taken, new provinces overrun, and new
plans for future conquests were formed. At last a case occurred in
which Cyrus wished to send some one as a spy into a distant enemy's
country. The circumstances were such that it was necessary that a
person of considerable intelligence and rank should go, as Cyrus
wished the messenger whom he should send to make his way to the court
of the sovereign, and become personally acquainted with the leading
men of the state, and to examine the general resources of the kingdom.
It was a very different case from that of an ordinary spy, who was
to go into a neighboring camp merely to report the numbers and
disposition of an organized army. Cyrus was uncertain whom he should
send on such an embassy.
In the mean time, Araspes had ventured to express to Panthea his love
for her. She was offended. In the first place, she was faithful to her
husband, and did not wish to receive such addresses from any person.
Then, besides, she considered Araspes, having been placed in charge of
her by Cyrus, his master, only for the purpose of keeping her safely,
as guilty of a betrayal of his trust in having dared to cherish and
express sentiments of affection for her himself. She, however, forbore
to reproach him, or to complain of him to Cyrus. She simply repelled
the advances that he made, supposing that, if she did this with
firmness and decision, Araspes would feel rebuked and would say no
more. It did not, however, produce this effect. Araspes continued to
importune her with declarations of love, and at length she felt
compelled to appeal to Cyrus.
Cyrus, instead of being incensed at what might have been considered a
betrayal of trust on the part of Araspes, only laughed at the failure
and fall in which all his favorite's promises and boastings had ended.
He sent a messenger to Araspes to caution him in regard to his
conduct, telling him that he ought to respect the feelings of such a
woman as Panthea had proved herself to be. The messenger whom Cyrus
sent was not content with delivering his message as Cyrus had dictated
it. He made it much more stern and severe. In fact, he reproached the
lover, in a very harsh and bitter manner, for indulging such a
passion. He told him that he had betrayed a sacred trust reposed in
him, and acted in a manner at once impious and unjust. Araspes
was overwhelmed with remorse and anguish, and with fear of the
consequences which might ensue, as men are when the time arrives for
being called to account for transgressions which, while they were
committing them, gave them little concern.
When Cyrus heard how much Araspes had been distressed by the message
of reproof which he had received, and by his fears of punishment, he
sent for him. Araspes came. Cyrus told him that he had no occasion to
be alarmed. "I do not wonder," said he, "at the result which has
happened. We all know how difficult it is to resist the influence
which is exerted upon our minds by the charms of a beautiful woman,
when we are thrown into circumstances of familiar intercourse with
her. Whatever of wrong there has been ought to be considered as more
my fault than yours. I was wrong in placing you in such circumstances
of temptation, by giving you so beautiful a woman in charge."
Araspes was very much struck with the generosity of Cyrus, in thus
endeavoring to soothe his anxiety and remorse, and taking upon himself
the responsibility and the blame. He thanked Cyrus very earnestly for
his kindness; but he said that, notwithstanding his sovereign's
willingness to forgive him, he felt still oppressed with grief and
concern, for the knowledge of his fault had been spread abroad in the
army; his enemies were rejoicing over him, and were predicting his
disgrace and ruin; and some persons had even advised him to make his
escape, by absconding before any worse calamity should befall him.
"If this is so," said Cyrus, "it puts it in your power to render me a
very essential service." Cyrus then explained to Araspes the necessity
that he was under of finding some confidential agent to go on a secret
mission into the enemy's country, and the importance that the
messenger should go under such circumstances as not to be suspected
of being Cyrus's friend in disguise. "You can pretend to abscond,"
said he; "it will be immediately said that you fled for fear of my
displeasure. I will pretend to send in pursuit of you. The news of
your evasion will spread rapidly, and will be carried, doubtless, into
the enemy's country; so that, when you arrive there, they will be
prepared to welcome you as a deserter from my cause, and a refugee."
This plan was agreed upon, and Araspes prepared for his departure.
Cyrus gave him his instructions, and they concerted together the
information--fictitious, of course--which he was to communicate to the
enemy in respect to Cyrus's situation and designs. When all was ready
for his departure, Cyrus asked him how it was that he was so willing
to separate himself thus from the beautiful Panthea. He said in reply,
that when he was absent from Panthea, he was capable of easily
forming any determination, and of pursuing any line of conduct that
his duty required, while yet, in her presence, he found his love for
her, and the impetuous feelings to which it gave rise, wholly and
absolutely uncontrollable.
As soon as Araspes was gone, Panthea, who supposed that he had really
fled for fear of the indignation of the king, in consequence of his
unfaithfulness to his trust, sent to Cyrus a message, expressing her
regret at the unworthy conduct and the flight of Araspes, and saying
that she could, and gladly would, if he consented, repair the loss
which the desertion of Araspes occasioned by sending for her own
husband. He was, she said, dissatisfied with the government under
which he lived, having been cruelly and tyrannically treated by the
prince. "If you will allow me to send for him," she added, "I am sure
he will come and join your army; and I assure you that you will find
him a much more faithful and devoted servant than Araspes has been."
Cyrus consented to this proposal, and Panthea sent for Abradates.
Abradates came at the head of two thousand horse, which formed a very
important addition to the forces under Cyrus's command. The meeting
between Panthea and her husband was joyful in the extreme. When
Abradates learned from his wife how honorable and kind had been the
treatment which Cyrus had rendered to her, he was overwhelmed with a
sense of gratitude, and he declared that he would do the utmost in his
power to requite the obligations he was under.
Abradates entered at once, with great ardor and zeal, into plans for
making the force which he had brought as efficient as possible in the
service of Cyrus. He observed that Cyrus was interested, at that time,
in attempting to build and equip a corps of armed chariots, such as
were often used in fields of battle in those days. This was a very
expensive sort of force, corresponding, in that respect, with the
artillery used in modern times. The carriages were heavy and strong,
and were drawn generally by two horses. They had short, scythe-like
blades of steel projecting from the axle-trees on each side, by which
the ranks of the enemy were mowed down when the carriages were driven
among them. The chariots were made to contain, besides the driver of
the horses, one or more warriors, each armed in the completest manner.
These warriors stood on the floor of the vehicle, and fought with
javelins and spears. The great plains which abound in the interior
countries of Asia were very favorable for this species of warfare.
[Illustration: THE WAR CHARIOT OF ABRADATES.]
Abradates immediately fitted up for Cyrus a hundred such chariots at
his own expense, and provided horses to draw them from his own troop.
He made one chariot much larger than the rest, for himself, as he
intended to take command of this corps of chariots in person. His own
chariot was to be drawn by eight horses. His wife Panthea was very
much interested in these preparations. She wished to do something
herself toward the outfit. She accordingly furnished, from her own
private treasures, a helmet, a corslet, and arm-pieces of gold. These
articles formed a suit of armor sufficient to cover all that part of
the body which would be exposed in standing in the chariot. She also
provided breast-pieces and side-pieces of brass for the horses. The
whole chariot, thus equipped, with its eight horses in their gay
trappings and resplendent armor, and with Abradates standing within
it, clothed in his panoply of gold, presented, as it drove, in the
sight of the whole army, around the plain of the encampment, a most
imposing spectacle. It was a worthy leader, as the spectators
thought, to head the formidable column of a hundred similar engines
which were to follow in its train. If we imagine the havoc which a
hundred scythe-armed carriages would produce when driven, with
headlong fury, into dense masses of men, on a vast open plain, we
shall have some idea of one item of the horrors of ancient war.
The full splendor of Abradates's equipments were not, however,
displayed at first, for Panthea kept what she had done a secret for a
time, intending to reserve her contribution for a parting present to
her husband when the period should arrive for going into battle. She
had accordingly taken the measure for her work by stealth, from the
armor which Abradates was accustomed to wear, and had caused the
artificers to make the golden pieces with the utmost secrecy. Besides
the substantial defenses of gold which she provided, she added various
other articles for ornament and decoration. There was a purple robe,
a crest for the helmet, which was of a violet color, plumes, and
likewise bracelets for the wrists. Panthea kept all these things
herself until the day arrived when her husband was going into battle
for the first time with his train, and then, when he went into his
tent to prepare himself to ascend his chariot, she brought them to
him.
Abradates was astonished when he saw them. He soon understood how they
had been provided, and he exclaimed, with a heart full of surprise and
pleasure, "And so, to provide me with this splendid armor and dress,
you have been depriving yourself of all your finest and most beautiful
ornaments!"
"No," said Panthea, "you are yourself my finest ornament, if you
appear in other people's eyes as you do in mine, and I have not
deprived myself of you."
The appearance which Abradates made in other people's eyes was
certainly very splendid on this occasion. There were many spectators
present to see him mount his chariot and drive away; but so great was
their admiration of Panthea's affection and regard for her husband,
and so much impressed were they with her beauty, that the great
chariot, the resplendent horses, and the grand warrior with his armor
of gold, which the magnificent equipage was intended to convey, were,
all together, scarcely able to draw away the eyes of the spectators
from her. She stood, for a while, by the side of the chariot,
addressing her husband in an under tone, reminding him of the
obligations which they were under to Cyrus for his generous and noble
treatment of her, and urging him, now that he was going to be put to
the test, to redeem the promise which she had made in his name, that
Cyrus would find him faithful, brave, and true.
The driver then closed the door by which Abradates had mounted, so
that Panthea was separated from her husband, though she could still
see him as he stood in his place. She gazed upon him with a
countenance full of affection and solicitude. She kissed the margin of
the chariot as it began to move away. She walked along after it as it
went, as if, after all, she could not bear the separation. Abradates
turned, and when he saw her coming on after the carriage, he said,
waving his hand for a parting salutation, "Farewell, Panthea; go back
now to your tent, and do not be anxious about me. Farewell." Panthea
turned--her attendants came and took her away--the spectators all
turned, too, to follow her with their eyes, and no one paid any regard
to the chariot or to Abradates until she was gone.
On the field of battle, before the engagement commenced, Cyrus, in
passing along the lines, paused, when he came to the chariots of
Abradates, to examine the arrangements which had been made for them,
and to converse a moment with the chief. He saw that the chariots were
drawn up in a part of the field where there was opposed to them a very
formidable array of Egyptian soldiers. The Egyptians in this war were
allies of the enemy. Abradates, leaving his chariot in the charge of
his driver, descended and came to Cyrus, and remained in conversation
with him for a few moments, to receive his last orders. Cyrus directed
him to remain where he was, and not to attack the enemy until he
received a certain signal. At length the two chieftains separated;
Abradates returned to his chariot, and Cyrus moved on. Abradates then
moved slowly along his lines, to encourage and animate his men, and to
give them the last directions in respect to the charge which they were
about to make on the enemy when the signal should be given. All eyes
were turned to the magnificent spectacle which his equipage presented
as it advanced toward them; the chariot, moving slowly along the line,
the tall and highly-decorated form of its commander rising in the
center of it, while the eight horses, animated by the sound of the
trumpets, and by the various excitements of the scene, stepped
proudly, their brazen armor clanking as they came.
When, at length, the signal was given, Abradates, calling on the other
chariots to follow, put his horses to their speed, and the whole line
rushed impetuously on to the attack of the Egyptians. War horses,
properly trained to their work, will fight with their hoofs with
almost as much reckless determination as men will with spears. They
rush madly on to encounter whatever opposition there may be before
them, and strike down and leap over whatever comes in their way, as if
they fully understood the nature of the work that their riders or
drivers were wishing them to do. Cyrus, as he passed along from one
part of the battle field to another, saw the horses of Abradates's
line dashing thus impetuously into the thickest ranks of the enemy.
The men, on every side, were beaten down by the horses' hoofs, or
over-turned by the wheels, or cut down by the scythes; and they who
here and there escaped these dangers, became the aim of the soldiers
who stood in the chariots, and were transfixed with their spears. The
heavy wheels rolled and jolted mercilessly over the bodies of the
wounded and the fallen, while the scythes caught hold of and cut
through every thing that came in their way--whether the shafts of
javelins and spears, or the limbs and bodies of men--and tore every
thing to pieces in their terrible career. As Cyrus rode rapidly by, he
saw Abradates in the midst of this scene, driving on in his chariot,
and shouting to his men in a phrensy of excitement and triumph.
The battle in which these events occurred was one of the greatest and
most important which Cyrus fought. He gained the victory. His enemies
were every where routed and driven from the field. When the contest
was at length decided, the army desisted from the slaughter and
encamped for the night. On the following day, the generals assembled
at the tent of Cyrus to discuss the arrangements which were to be made
in respect to the disposition of the captives and of the spoil, and to
the future movements of the army. Abradates was not there. For a time,
Cyrus, in the excitement and confusion of the scene did not observe
his absence. At length he inquired for him. A soldier present told
him that he had been killed from his chariot in the midst of the
Egyptians, and that his wife was at that moment attending to the
interment of the body, on the banks of a river which flowed near the
field of battle. Cyrus, on hearing this, uttered a loud exclamation of
astonishment and sorrow. He dropped the business in which he had been
engaged with his council, mounted his horse, commanded attendants to
follow him with every thing that could be necessary on such an
occasion, and then, asking those who knew to lead the way, he drove
off to find Panthea.
When he arrived at the spot, the dead body of Abradates was lying upon
the ground, while Panthea sat by its side, holding the head in her
lap, overwhelmed herself with unutterable sorrow. Cyrus leaped from
his horse, knelt down by the side of the corpse, saying, at the same
time, "Alas! thou brave and faithful soul, and art thou gone?"
At the same time, he took hold of the hand of Abradates; but, as he
attempted to raise it, the arm came away from the body. It had been
cut off by an Egyptian sword. Cyrus was himself shocked at the
spectacle, and Panthea's grief broke forth anew. She cried out with
bitter anguish, replaced the arm in the position in which she had
arranged it before, and told Cyrus that the rest of the body was in
the same condition. Whenever she attempted to speak, her sobs and
tears almost prevented her utterance. She bitterly reproached herself
for having been, perhaps, the cause of her husband's death, by urging
him, as she had done, to fidelity and courage when he went into
battle. "And now," she said, "he is dead, while I, who urged him
forward into the danger, am still alive."
Cyrus said what he could to console Panthea's grief; but he found it
utterly inconsolable. He gave directions for furnishing her with every
thing which she could need, and promised her that he would make ample
arrangements for providing for her in future. "You shall be treated,"
he said, "while you remain with me, in the most honorable manner; or
if you have any friends whom you wish to join, you shall be sent to
them safely whenever you please."
Panthea thanked him for his kindness. She had a friend, she said, whom
she wished to join, and she would let him know in due time who it was.
In the mean time, she wished that Cyrus would leave her alone, for a
while, with her servants, and her waiting-maid, and the dead body of
her husband. Cyrus accordingly withdrew. As soon as he had gone,
Panthea sent away the servants also, retaining the waiting-maid
alone. The waiting-maid began to be anxious and concerned at
witnessing these mysterious arrangements, as if they portended some
new calamity. She wondered what her mistress was going to do. Her
doubts were dispelled by seeing Panthea produce a sword, which she had
kept concealed hitherto beneath her robe. Her maid begged her, with
much earnestness and many tears, not to destroy herself; but Panthea
was immovable. She said she could not live any longer. She directed
the maid to envelop her body, as soon as she was dead, in the same
mantle with her husband, and to have them both deposited together in
the same grave; and before her stupefied attendant could do any thing
to save her, she sat down by the side of her husband's body, laid her
head upon his breast, and in that position gave herself the fatal
wound. In a few minutes she ceased to breathe.
* * * * *
Cyrus expressed his respect for the memory of Abradates and Panthea by
erecting a lofty monument over their common grave.