Cyropaedia: The Education of Cyrus — Book VIII - Chapter 3

[C.

3] I will now describe the first public progress that Cyrus made.

For the very solemnity of the ceremony was one of the artifices by which he won reverence for his government.

The day before it he summoned the officers of state, the Persians and the others, and gave them all the splendid Median dress.

This was the first time the Persians wore it, and as they received the robes he said that he wished to drive in his chariot to the sacred precincts and offer sacrifice with them.

[2] "You will present yourselves at my gates," he added, "before the sun rises, attired in these robes, and you will take your places where Pheraulas the Persian bids you on my behalf.

As soon as I lead the way you will follow in your appointed order.

And if any of you should think of some change to heighten the beauty and stateliness of our procession, you will acquaint me with it, I pray, on our return; it is for us to see that all is done in the manner you feel to be most beautiful and best."

[3] With that Cyrus gave the most splendid robes to his chief notables, and then he brought out others, for he had stores of Median garments, purple and scarlet and crimson and glowing red, and gave a share to each of his generals and said to them, "Adorn your friends, as I have adorned you."

[4] Then one of them asked him, "And you, O Cyrus, when will you adorn yourself?"

But he answered, "Is it not adornment enough for me to have adorned you?

If I can but do good to my friends, I shall look glorious enough, whatever robe I wear."

[5] So his nobles took their leave, and sent for their friends and put the splendid raiment on them.

Meanwhile Cyrus summoned Pheraulas, knowing that, while he was a man of the people, he was also quick-witted, a lover of the beautiful, prompt to understand and to obey, and one who had ever an eye to please his master.

It was he who had supported Cyrus long ago when he proposed that honour should be given in proportion to desert.

And now Cyrus asked him how he thought the procession might be made most beautiful in the eyes of friends and most formidable in the sight of foes.

[6] So they took counsel and were of the same mind, and Cyrus bade Pheraulas see that all was done on the morrow as they had agreed.

"I have issued orders," he added, "for all to obey you in the matter, but to make them the more willing, take these tunics yourself and give them to the captains of the guard, and these military cloaks for the cavalry officers, and these tunics for those who command the chariots."

[7] So Pheraulas took the raiment and departed, and when the generals saw him, they met him with shouts and cries, "A monstrous fine fellow you are, Pheraulas!"

said one: "you are to give us our orders, it seems!"

"Oh, yes," said Pheraulas, "and carry your baggage too.

Here I come with two cloaks as it is, one for you and another for somebody else: you must choose whichever you like the best."

[8] At that the officer put out his hand to take the cloak; he had clean forgotten his jealousy, and fell to asking Pheraulas which he had better choose.

And Pheraulas gave his advice, adding, "But if you inform against me, and let out that I gave you the choice, the next time I have to wait upon you you will find me a very different sort of serving-man."

Thus he distributed the gifts he brought, and then he saw to the arrangements for the procession so that everything should be as far as possible.

[9] On the morrow all things were ready before day-break, ranks lining the road on either hand, as they do to this day when the king is expected to ride abroad--no one may pass within the lines unless he is a man of mark--and constables were posted with whips, to use at any sign of disturbance.

In front of the palace stood the imperial guard of lancers, four thousand strong, drawn up four deep on either side of the gates.

[10] And all the cavalry were there, the men standing beside their horses, with their hands wrapped in their cloaks, as is the custom to this day for every subject when the king's eye is on him.

The Persians stood on the right, and the allies on the left, and the chariots were posted in the same way, half on one side and half on the other.

[11] Presently the palace-gates were flung open, and at the head of the procession were led out the bulls for sacrifice, beautiful creatures, four and four together.

They were to be offered to Zeus and to any other gods that the Persian priests might name.

For the Persians think it of more importance to follow the guidance of the learned in matters pertaining to the gods than in anything else whatever.

[12] After the oxen came horses, an offering to the Sun, then a white chariot with a golden yoke, hung with garlands and dedicated to Zeus, and after that the white car of the Sun, wreathed like the one before it, and then a third chariot, the horses of which were caparisoned with scarlet trappings, and behind walked men carrying fire upon a mighty hearth.

[13] And then at last Cyrus himself was seen, coming forth from the gates in his chariot, wearing his tiara on his head, and a purple tunic shot with white, such as none but the king may wear, and trews of scarlet, and a cloak of purple.

Round his tiara he wore a diadem, and his kinsmen wore the same, even as the custom is to this day.

[14] And the king's hands hung free outside his cloak.

Beside him stood a charioteer--he was a tall man, but he seemed to be dwarfed by Cyrus;

whether it was really so, or whether there was some artifice at work, Cyrus towered above him.

At the sight of the king, the whole company fell on their faces.

Perhaps some had been ordered to do this and so set the fashion, or perhaps the multitude were really overcome by the splendour of the pageant and the sight of Cyrus himself, stately and tall and fair.

[15] For hitherto none of the Persians had done obeisance to Cyrus.

And now, as the chariot moved onwards, the four thousand lancers went before it, two thousand on either side, and close behind came the mace-bearers, mounted on horseback, with javelins in their hands, three hundred strong.

[16] Then the royal steeds were led past, with golden bridles and striped housings, two hundred and more, and then followed two thousand spearmen and after them the squadron of cavalry first formed, ten thousand men, a hundred deep and a hundred riding abreast, with Chrysantas at their head.

[17] And behind them the second body of the Persian horse, ten thousand more, in the same order, under Hystaspas, and then again ten thousand under Datamas, and others behind them under Gadatas.

[18] And after them the Median cavalry, and then the Armenians, the Hyrcanians, the Cadousians, and the Sakians in their order; and after the cavalry a squadron of war-chariots, drawn up four deep, with Artabatas the Persian in command.

[19] All along the route thousands of men followed, outside the barriers, with petitions to Cyrus.

Accordingly he sent his mace-bearers, who rode beside him for the purpose, three on either side of his chariot, bidding them tell the crowd of suitors, if they had need of anything, to acquaint one of the cavalry officers and he would speak for them.

So the petitioners withdrew, and fell to marching along the lines of the cavalry, considering whom they should address.

[20] Cyrus meanwhile would send messengers to the friends he wished to be courted, saying to them, "If any man appeals to you and you think nothing of what he says, pay no heed to him, but if his request seems just, report it to me, and we will discuss it together and arrange matters for him."

[21] As a rule the officers so summoned did not loiter, but dashed up at full speed, glad to enhance the authority of Cyrus and to show their own allegiance.

But there was a certain Daïpharnes, a person of somewhat boorish manners, who fancied that he would make a show of greater independence if he did not hurry himself.

[22] Cyrus noted this, and quietly, before the man could reach him, sent another messenger to say he had no further need of him; and that was the last time Daïpharnes was ever summoned.

[23] And when the next officer rode up, in front of Daïpharnes though sent for after him, Cyrus presented him with a horse from his train and bade one of the mace-bearers lead it wherever he wished.

The people saw in this a high mark of honour; and a greater crowd than ever paid their court to the favoured man.

[24] When the procession reached the sacred precincts, sacrifice was offered to Zeus, a whole burnt-offering of bulls, and a whole burnt-offering of horses to the Sun; and then they sacrificed to the Earth, slaying the victims as the Persian priests prescribed, and then to the heroes who hold the Syrian land.

[25] And when the rites were done, Cyrus, seeing that the ground was suitable for racing, marked out a goal, and a course half-a-mile in length, and bade the cavalry and the chariots match their horses against each other, tribe by tribe.

He himself raced among his Persians, and won with ease, for he was far the best horseman there.

The winner among the Medes was Artabazus, the horse he rode being a gift from Cyrus.

The Syrian race was won by their chieftain, the Armenian by Tigranes, the Hyrcanian by the general's son, and the Sakian by a private soldier who left all his rivals half the course behind him.

[26] Cyrus, so the story says, asked the young man if he would take a kingdom for his horse.

"No kingdom for me," answered the soldier, "but I would take the thanks of a gallant fellow."

[27] "Well," said Cyrus, "I would like to show you where you could hardly fail to hit one, even if you shut your eyes."

"Be so good as to show me now," said the Sakian, "and I will take aim with this clod," picking up one from the ground.

[28] Then Cyrus pointed to a group of his best friends, and the other shut his eyes and flung the clod, and it struck Pheraulas as he galloped by, bearing some message from Cyrus.

But he never so much as turned, flashing past on his errand.

[29] Then the Sakian opened his eyes and asked whom he had hit?

"Nobody, I assure you," said Cyrus, "who is here."

"And nobody who is not, of course," said the young man.

"Oh yes, you did," answered Cyrus, "you hit that officer over there who is riding so swiftly paste the chariot-lines."

[30] "And how is it," asked the other, "that he does not even turn his head?"

"Half-witted, probably," said Cyrus.

Whereat the young man rode off to see who it was, and found Pheraulas, with his chin and beard all begrimed and bloody, gore trickling from his nostrils were the clod had struck him.

[31] The Sakian cried out to know if he was hit.

"As you see," answered Pheraulas.

"Then," said the other, "let me give you my horse."

"But why?"

asked Pheraulas.

And so the Sakian had to tell him all about the matter, adding, "And after all, you see, I did not miss a gallant fellow."

[32] "Ah," said Pheraulas, "if you had been wise, you would have chosen a richer one; but I take your gift with all my thanks.

And I pray the gods," he added, "who let me be your target, to help me now and see that you may never regret your gift.

For the present, mount my horse yourself and ride back; I will be with you shortly."

So they exchanged steeds and parted.

The winner of the Cadousian race was Rathines.

[33] Then followed chariot-races, tribe by tribe as before: and to all the winners Cyrus gave goblets of price, and oxen, that they might have the wherewithal for sacrifice and feasting.

He himself took an ox for his own meed, but he gave all the goblets to Pheraulas to show his approval of the arrangements for the march.

[34] And the manner of that procession, then first established by Cyrus, continues to this day, the same in all things, save that the victims are absent when there is no sacrifice.

And when it was over, the soldiers went back to the city, and took up their quarters for the night, some in houses and some with their regiments.

[35] Now Pheraulas had invited the Sakian who had given him the horse, and he entertained him with the best he had, and set before him a full board, and after they had dined he filled the goblets Cyrus had given him, and drank to his guest, and offered them all to him.

[36] And the Sakian looked round on the rich and costly rugs, and the beautiful furniture, and the train of servants, and cried: "Tell me, Pheraulas, do you belong to wealthy folk at home?"

[37] "Wealthy folk indeed!"

cried Pheraulas, "men who live by their hands, you mean.

My father, I can tell you, had work enough to rear me and get me a boy's schooling; he had to toil hard and live sparely, and when I grew to be a lad he could not afford to keep me idle, he took me to a farm in the country and set me there to work it.

[38] Then it was my turn, and I supported him while he lived, digging with my own hands and sowing the seed in a ridiculous little plot of ground, and yet it was not a bad bit of soil either, but as good and as honest earth as ever you saw: whatever seed it got from me, it paid me back again, and so prettily and carefully and duly, principal and interest both; not that the interest was very much, I won't say it was, though once or twice, out of pure generosity, that land gave me twice was much as I put into it.

That's how I used to live at home, in the old days: to-day it's different, and all that you see here I owe to Cyrus."

[39] Then the Sakian cried: "O lucky fellow!

Lucky in everything, and most of all in coming to wealth from beggary!

I know your riches must taste the sweeter, because you hungered for them first and now are full."

[40] But Pheraulas answered: "Do you really think, my friend, that my joy in life has grown with the growth of my wealth?

Do you not know," he went on, "that I neither eat nor drink nor sleep with any more zest than I did when I was poor?

What I get by all these goods is simply this: I have more to watch over, more to distribute, and more trouble in looking after more.

[41] I have a host of servants now, one set asking me for food, another for drink, another for clothing, and some must have the doctor, and then a herdsman comes, carrying the carcase of some poor sheep mangled by the wolves, or perhaps with an ox that has fallen down a precipice, or maybe he has to tell me that a murrain has broken out among my flocks.

It seems to me," Pheraulas ended, "that I suffer more to-day through having much than ever I did before through having nothing."

[42] "But--Heaven help us!"

cried the Sakian, "surely, when it is all safe, to see so much of your own must make you much happier than me?"

"I assure you, my friend," said Pheraulas, "the possession of riches is nothing like so sweet as the loss of them is painful.

And here is a proof for you: no rich man lies awake from pure joy at his wealth, but did you ever know a man who could close his eyes when he was losing?"

[43] "No," said the Sakian, "nor yet one who could drop asleep when he was winning."

[44] "True enough," answered the other, "and if having were as sweet as getting, the rich would be a thousand times more happy than the poor.

And remember, stranger," he added, "a man who has much must spend much on the gods and his friends and his guests, and if he takes intense delight in his riches, spending will cause him intense annoyance."

[45] "Upon my word," said the Sakian, "for myself, I am not that sort of man at all: to have much and to spend much is just my idea of perfect happiness."

[46] "Heavens!"

cried Pheraulas, "what a chance for us both!

You can win perfect happiness now, this instant, and make me happy too!

Here, take all these things for your own, make what use of them you please; and as for me, you can keep me as your guest, only much more cheaply if you like: it will be quite enough for me to share whatever you have yourself."

"You are jesting," said the Sakian.

[47] But Pheraulas swore with all solemnity that he spoke in earnest.

"Yes, my friend," he added, "and there are other matters that I can arrange for you with Cyrus: freedom from military service or attendance at the gates.

All you will have to do will be to stay at home and grow rich: I will do the rest on your behalf and mine.

And if I win any treasure through my service at court or on the field, I will bring it home to you, and you will be lord of more; only," he added, "you must free me from the responsibility of looking after it, for if you give me leisure from these cares I believe you will be of great use to Cyrus and myself."

[48] So the talk ended and they struck a bargain on these terms, and kept it.

And the Sakian thought he had found happiness because he was the master of much wealth, and the other felt he was in bliss because he had got a steward who would leave him leisure to do what he liked best.

[49] For the character of Pheraulas was amiable: he was a loving comrade, and no service seemed so sweet to him or so helpful as the service of man.

Man, he believed, was the noblest of the animals and the most grateful: praise, Pheraulas saw, will reap counter-praise, kindness will stir kindness in return, and goodwill goodwill; those whom men know to love them they cannot hate, and, in a way no other animals will, they cherish their parents in life and in death and requite their care.

All other creatures, in short, compared with man, are lacking in gratitude and heart.

[50] Thus Pheraulas was overjoyed to feel that he could now be quit of anxiety for his wealth, and devote himself to his friends, while the Sakian was delighted with all that he had and all that he could use.

The Sakian loved Pheraulas because he was for ever adding something to the store, and Pheraulas loved the Sakian because he was willing to assume the entire burden, and however much the cares increased he never broke into the other's leisure.

Thus those two lived their lives.