not; he was too weak.  At last, finding it impossible to discover whether
he was in real life or still in a dream, he called for his dressers and
the courtiers, who were accustomed to be present when he rose.  They
appeared in a moment, and with them his mother, Prexaspes, a number of
the learned among the Magi, and some Egyptians who were unknown to him.
They told him, that he had been lying in a violent fever for weeks, and
had only escaped death by the special mercy of the gods, the skill of the
physicians, and the unwearied nursing of his mother.  He looked
enquiringly first at Kassandane, then at Prexaspes, lost consciousness
again, and fell into a deep sleep, from which he awoke the next morning
with renewed strength.

In four days he was strong enough to sit up and able to question
Prexaspes on the only subject, which occupied his thoughts.

In consideration of his master's weakness the envoy was beginning an
evasive reply, when a threatening movement of the king's gaunt, worn
hand, and a look which had by no means lost its old power of awing into
submission, brought him to the point at once, and in the hope of giving
the king a great pleasure and putting his mind completely at rest, he
began: "Rejoice, O King!  the youth, who dared to desire the
disparagement of thy glory, is no more.  This hand slew him and buried
his body at Baal-Zephon.  The sand of the desert and the unfruitful waves
of the Red Sea were the only witnesses of the deed; and no creature knows
thereof beside thyself, O King, thy servant Prexaspes, and the gulls and
cormorants, that hover over his grave."

The king uttered a piercing shriek of rage, was seized by a fresh
shivering-fit, and sank back once more in raving delirium.

Long weeks passed, every day of which threatened its death.  At last,
however, his strong constitution gained the day, but his mind had given
way, and remained disordered and weak up to his last hour.

When he was strong enough to leave the sick-room and to ride and shoot
once more, he abandoned himself more than ever to the pleasure of
drinking, and lost every remnant of self-control.

The delusion had fixed itself in his disordered mind, that Bartja was not
dead, but transformed into the bow of the King of Ethiopia, and that the
Feruer (soul) of his father Cyrus had commanded him to restore Bartja to
its original form, by subjugating the black nation.

This idea, which he confided to every one about him as a great secret,
pursued him day and night and gave him no rest, until he had started for
Ethiopia with an immense host.  He was forced, however, to return without
having accomplished his object, after having miserably lost the greater
part of his army by heat and the scarcity of provisions.  An historian,
who may almost be spoken of as contemporary, tells us that the wretched
soldiers, after having subsisted on herbs as long as they could, came to
deserts where there was no sign of vegetation, and in their despair
resorted to an expedient almost too fearful to describe.  Lots were drawn
by every ten men, and he on whom the lot fell was killed and eaten by the
other nine.

[Herodotus visited Egypt some 60 years after the death of Cambyses,
454 B.C.  He describes the Ethiopian campaign, III. 25.]

At last things went so far, that his subjects compelled this madman to
return, but only, with their slavish Asiatic feelings, to obey him all
the more blindly, when they found themselves once more in inhabited
regions.

On reaching Memphis with the wreck of his army, he found the Egyptians in
glorious apparel celebrating a festival.  They had found a new Apis and
were rejoicing over the reappearance of their god, incarnate in the
sacred bull.

As Cambyses had heard at Thebes, that the army he had sent against the
oasis of Ammon in the Libyan desert, had perished miserably in a Khamsin,
or Simoom, and that his fleet, which was to conquer Carthage, had refused
to fight with a people of their own race, he fancied that the Memphians
must be celebrating a festival of joy at the news of his misfortunes,
sent for their principal men, and after reproaching them with their
conduct, asked why they had been gloomy and morose after his victories,
but joyous at hearing of his misfortunes.  The Memphians answered by
explaining the real ground for their merry-making, and told him, that
the appearance of the sacred bull was always celebrated in Egypt with the
greatest rejoicings.  Cambyses called them liars, and, as such, sentenced
them to death.  He then sent for the priests; received, however, exactly
the same answer from them.

With the bitterest irony he asked to be allowed to make the acquaintance
of this new god, and commanded them to bring him.  The bull Apis was
brought and the king told that he was the progeny of a virgin cow and a
moonbeam, that he must be black, with a white triangular spot on the
forehead, the likeness of an eagle on his back, and on his side the
crescent moon.  There must be two kinds of hair on his tail, and on his
tongue an excrescence in the form of the sacred beetle Scarabaeus.

When Cambyses saw this deified creature he could discover nothing
remarkable in him, and was so enraged that he plunged his sword into its
side.  As the blood streamed from the wound and the animal fell, he broke
out into a piercing laugh, and cried: "Ye fools! so your gods are flesh
and blood; they can be wounded.  Such folly is worthy of you.  But ye
shall find, that it is not so easy to make a fool of me.  Ho, guards!
flog these priests soundly, and kill every one whom you find taking part
in this mad celebration."  The command was obeyed and fearfully
exasperated the Egyptians.

[According to Herod. III. 29.  Cambyses' sword slipped and ran into
the leg of the sacred bull.  As the king died also of a wound in the
thigh, this just suits Herodotus, who always tries to put the
retribution that comes after presumptuous crime in the strongest
light; but it is very unlikely that the bull should have died of a
mere thigh wound.]

Apis died of his wound; the Memphians buried him secretly in the vaults
belonging to the sacred bulls, near the Serapeum, and, led by Psamtik,
attempted an insurrection against the Persians.  This was very quickly
put down, however, and cost Psamtik his life,--a life the stains and
severities of which deserve to be forgiven, in consideration of his
unwearied, ceaseless efforts to deliver his people from a foreign yoke,
and his death in the cause of freedom.

Cambyses' madness had meanwhile taken fresh forms.  After the failure of
his attempt to restore Bartja, (transformed as he fancied into a bow) to
his original shape, his irritability increased so frightfully that a
single word, or even a look, was sufficient to make him furious.  Still
his true friend and counsellor, Croesus, never left him, though the king
had more than once given him over to the guards for execution.  But the
guards knew their master; they took good care not to lay hands on the old
man, and felt sure of impunity, as the king would either have forgotten
his command, or repented of it by the next day, Once, however, the
miserable whip bearers paid a fearful penalty for their lenity.
Cambyses, while rejoicing that Croesus was saved, ordered his deliverers
to be executed for disobedience without mercy.

It would be repugnant to us to repeat all the tales of barbarous
cruelties, which are told of Cambyses at this insane period of his life;
but we cannot resist mentioning a few which seem to us especially
characteristic.

While sitting at table one day, already somewhat intoxicated, he asked
Prexaspes what the Persians thought of him.  The envoy, who in hopes of
deadening his tormenting conscience by the performance of noble and
dangerous acts, let no opportunity pass of trying to exercise a good
influence over his sovereign, answered that they extolled him on every
point, but thought he was too much addicted to wine.

These words, though spoken half in jest, put the king into a violent
passion, and he almost shrieked: "So the Persians say, that the wine has
taken away my senses, do they? on the contrary, I'll show them that
they've lost their own."  And as he spoke he bent his bow, took aim for a
moment at Prexaspes' eldest son, who, as cup-bearer, was standing at the
back of the hall waiting for and watching every look of his sovereign,
and shot him in the breast.  He then gave orders that the boy's body
should be opened and examined.  The arrow had pierced the centre of his
heart.  This delighted the senseless tyrant, and he called out with a
laugh: "Now you see, Prexaspes, it's the Persians who have lost their
judgment, not I.  Could any one have hit the mark better?"

Prexaspes stood there, pale and motionless, compelled to watch the horrid
scene, like Niobe when chained to Sipylus.  His servile spirit bowed
before the ruler's power, instead of arming his right hand with the
dagger of revenge, and when the frantic king asked him the same question
a second time, he actually answered, pressing his hand on his heart: "A
god could not have hit the mark more exactly."

A few weeks after this, the king went to Sais, and there was shown the
rooms formerly occupied by his bride.  This brought back all the old
painful recollections in full force, and at the same time his clouded
memory reminded him, though without any clearness of detail, that Amasis
had deceived both Nitetis and himself.  He cursed the dead king and
furiously demanded to be taken to the temple of Neith, where his mummy
was laid.  There he tore the embalmed body out of its sarcophagus, caused
it to be scourged, to be stabbed with pins, had the hair torn off and
maltreated it in every possible way.  In conclusion, and contrary to the
ancient Persian religious law, which held the pollution of pure fire by
corpses to be a deadly sin, he caused Amasis' dead body to be burnt, and
condemned the mummy of his first wife, which lay in a sarcophagus at
Thebes, her native place, to the same fate.

On his return to Memphis, Cambyses did not shrink from personally ill-
treating his wife and sister, Atossa.

He had ordered a combat of wild beasts to take place, during which,
amongst other entertainments of the same kind, a dog was to fight with a
young lion.  The lion had conquered his antagonist, when another dog, the
brother of the conquered one, broke away from his chain, attacked the
lion, and with the help of the wounded dog, vanquished him.

This scene delighted Cambyses, but Kassandane and Atossa, who had been
forced by the king's command to be present, began to weep aloud.

The tyrant was astonished, and on asking the reason for their tears,
received as answer from the impetuous Atossa, that the brave creature who
had risked its own life to save its brother, reminded her of Bartja.  She
would not say by whom he had been murdered, but his murder had never been
avenged.

These words so roused the king's anger, and so goaded his conscience,
that in a fit of insane fury he struck the daring woman, and might
possibly have killed her, if his mother had not thrown herself into his
arms and exposed her own body to his mad blows.

Her voice and action checked his rage, for he had not lost reverence for
his mother; but her look of intense anger and contempt, which he clearly
saw and could not forget, begot a fresh delusion in his mind.  He
believed from that moment, that the eyes of women had power to poison
him; he started and hid himself behind his companions whenever he saw a
woman, and at last commanded that all the female inhabitants of the
palace at Memphis, his mother not excepted, should be sent back to
Ecbatana.  Araspes and Gyges were appointed to be their escort thither.

......................

The caravan of queens and princesses had arrived at Sais; they alighted
at the royal palace.  Croesus had accompanied them thus far on their way
from Egypt.

Kassandane had altered very much during the last few years.  Grief and
suffering had worn deep lines in her once beautiful face, though they had
had no power to bow her stately figure.

Atossa, on the contrary, was more beautiful than ever, notwithstanding
all she had suffered.  The refractory and impetuous child, the daring
spirited girl, had developed into a dignified, animated and determined
woman.  The serious side of life, and three sad years passed with her
ungovernable husband and brother, had been first-rate masters in the
school of patience, but they had not been able to alienate her heart from
her first love.  Sappho's friendship had made up to her in some measure
for the loss of Darius.

The young Greek had become another creature, since the mysterious
departure of her husband.  Her rosy color and her lovely smile were both
gone.  But she was wonderfully beautiful, in spite of her paleness, her
downcast eyelashes and languid attitude.  She looked like Ariadne waiting
for Theseus.  Longing and expectation lay in every look, in the low tone
of her voice, in her measured walk.  At the sound of approaching steps,
the opening of a door or the unexpected tones of a man's voice, she would
start, get up and listen, and then sink back into the old waiting,
longing attitude, disappointed but not hopeless.  She began to dream
again, as she had been so fond of doing in her girlish days.

She was her old self only when playing with her child.  Then the color
came back to her cheeks, her eyes sparkled, she seemed once more to live
in the present, and not only in the past or future.

Her child was everything to her.  In that little one Bartja seemed to be
still alive, and she could love the child with all her heart and
strength, without taking one iota from her love to him.  With this little
creature the gods had mercifully given her an aim in life and a link with
the lower world, the really precious part of which had seemed to vanish
with her vanished husband.  Sometimes, as she looked into her baby's blue
eyes, so wonderfully like Bartja's, she thought: Why was not she born a
boy?  He would have grown more like his father from day to day, and at
last, if such a thing indeed could ever be, a second Bartja would have
stood before me.

But such thoughts generally ended soon in her pressing the little one
closer than ever to her heart, and blaming herself for ingratitude and
folly.

One day Atossa put the same idea in words, exclaiming: "If Parmys were
only a boy!  He would have grown up exactly like his father, and have
been a second Cyrus for Persia."  Sappho smiled sadly at her friend, and
covered the little one with kisses, but Kassandane said: "Be thankful to
the gods, my child, for having given you a daughter.  If Parmys were a
boy, he would be taken from you as soon as he had reached his sixth year,
to be brought up with the sons of the other Achaemenidae, but your
daughter will remain your own for many years."

Sappho trembled at the mere thought of parting from her child; she
pressed its little fair curly head close to her breast, and never found,
fault with her treasure again for being a girl.

Atossa's friendship was a great comfort to her poor wounded heart.  With
her she could speak of Bartja as much and as often as she would, and was
always certain of a kind and sympathizing listener.  Atossa had loved her
vanished brother very dearly.  And even a stranger would have enjoyed
hearing Sappho tell of her past happiness.  Her words rose into real
eloquence in speaking of those bright days; she seemed like an inspired
poetess.  Then she would take her lyre, and with her clear, sweet,
plaintive voice sing the love-songs of the elder Sappho, in which all her
own deepest feelings were so truly expressed, and fancy herself once more
with her lover sitting under the sweet-scented acanthus in the quiet
night, and forget the sad reality of her present life.  And when, with a
deep sigh, she laid aside the lyre and came back out of this dream-
kingdom, the tears were always to be seen in Kassandane's eyes, though
she did not understand the language in which Sappho had been singing,
and Atossa would bend down and kiss her forehead.

Thus three long years had passed, during which Sappho had seldom seen her
grandmother, for, as the mother of Parmys, she was by the king's command,
forbidden to leave the harem, unless permitted and accompanied either by
Kassandane or the eunuchs.

On the present occasion Croesus, who had always loved, and loved her
still, like a daughter, had sent for Rhodopis to Sais.  He, as well as
Kassandane, understood her wish to take leave of this, her dearest and
most faithful friend, before setting out for Persia; besides which
Kassandane had a great wish to see one in whose praise she had heard so
much.  When Sappho's tender and sad farewell was over therefore, Rhodopis
was summoned to the queen-mother.

A stranger, who saw these two women together, would have thought both
were queens; it was impossible to decide which of the two had most right
to the title.

Croesus, standing as he did in as close a relation to the one as to the
other, undertook the office of interpreter, and the ready intellect of
Rhodopis helped him to carry on an uninterrupted flow of conversation.

Rhodopis, by her own peculiar attractions, soon won the heart of
Kassandane, and the queen knew no better way of proving this than by
offering, in Persian fashion, to grant her some wish.

Rhodopis hesitated a moment; then raising her hands as if in prayer, she
cried: "Leave me my Sappho, the consolation and beauty of my old age."

Kassandane smiled sadly.  "It is not in my power to grant that wish," she
answered.  "The laws of Persia command, that the children of the
Achaemenidae shall be brought up at the king's gate.  I dare not allow
the little Parmys, Cyrus' only grandchild, to leave me, and, much as
Sappho loves you, you know she would not part from her child.  Indeed,
she has become so dear to me now, and to my daughter, that though I well
understand your wish to have her, I could never allow Sappho to leave
us."

Seeing that Rhodopis' eyes were filling with tears, Kassandane went on:
"There is, however, a good way out of our perplexity.  Leave Naukratis,
and come with us to Persia.  There you can spend your last years with us
and with your granddaughter, and shall be provided with a royal
maintenance."

Rhodopis shook her head, hoary but still so beautiful, and answered
in a suppressed voice: "I thank you, noble queen, for this gracious
invitation, but I feel unable to accept it.  Every fibre of my heart
is rooted in Greece, and I should be tearing my life out by leaving it
forever.  I am so accustomed to constant activity, perfect freedom, and a
stirring exchange of thought, that I should languish and die in the
confinement of a harem.  Croesus had already prepared me for the gracious
proposal you have just made, and I have had a long and difficult battle
to fight, before I could decide on resigning my dearest blessing for my
highest good.  It is not easy, but it is glorious, it is more worthy of
the Greek name--to live a good and beautiful life, than a happy one--to
follow duty rather than pleasure.  My heart will follow Sappho, but my
intellect and experience belong to the Greeks; and if you should ever
hear that the people of Hellas are ruled by themselves alone, by their
own gods, their own laws, the beautiful and the good, then you will know
that the work on which Rhodopis, in league with the noblest and best of
her countrymen, has staked her life, is accomplished.  Be not angry with
the Greek woman, who confesses that she would rather die free as a beggar
than live in bondage as a queen, though envied by the whole world."

Kassandane listened in amazement.  She only understood part of what
Rhodopis had said, but felt that she had spoken well and nobly, and at
the conclusion gave her her hand to kiss.  After a short pause,
Kassandane said: "Do what you think right, and remember, that as long as
I and my daughter live, your granddaughter will never want for true and
faithful love."

"Your noble countenance and the fame of your great virtue are warrant
enough for that."  answered Rhodopis.

"And also," added the queen, "the duty which lies upon me to make good
the wrong, that has been done your Sappho."

She sighed painfully and went on: "The little Parmys shall be carefully
educated.  She seems to have much natural talent, and can sing the songs
of her native country already after her mother.  I shall do nothing to
check her love of music, though, in Persia the religious services are the
only occasions in which that art is studied by any but the lower
classes."

At these words Rhodopis' face glowed.  "Will you permit me to speak
openly, O Queen?"  she said.  "Speak without fear," was Kassandane's
answer.  "When you sighed so painfully just now in speaking of your dear
lost son, I thought: Perhaps that brave young hero might have been still
living, if the Persians had understood better how to educate their sons.
Bartja told me in what that education consisted.  To shoot, throw the
spear, ride, hunt, speak the truth, and perhaps also to distinguish
between the healing and noxious properties of certain plants: that is
deemed a sufficient educational provision for a man's life.  The Greek
boys are just as carefully kept to the practice of exercises for
hardening and bracing the body; for these exercises are the founders and
preservers of health, the physician is only its repairer and restorer.
If, however, by constant practice a Greek youth were to attain to the
strength of a bull, the truth of the Deity, and the wisdom of the most
learned Egyptian priest, we should still look down upon him were he
wanting in two things which only early example and music, combined with
these bodily exercises, can give: grace and symmetry.  You smile because
you do not understand me, but I can prove to you that music, which, from
what Sappho tells me, is not without its moving power for your heart, is
as important an element in education as gymnastics, and, strange as it
may sound, has an equal share in effecting the perfection of both body
and mind.  The man who devotes his attention exclusively to music will,
if he be of a violent disposition, lose his savage sternness at first; he
will become gentle and pliable as metal in the fire.  But at last his
courage will disappear too; his passionate temper will have changed into
irritability, and he will be of little worth as a warrior, the calling
and character most desired in your country.  If, on the other hand, he
confines himself to gymnastics only, he will, like Cambyses, excel in
manliness and strength; but his mind--here my comparison ceases--will
remain obtuse and blind, his perceptions will be confused, He will not
listen to reason, but will endeavor to carry everything by force, and,
lacking grace and proportion, his life will probably become a succession
of rude and violent deeds.  On this account we conclude that music is
necessary not only for the mind, and gymnastics not only for the body,
but that both, working together, elevate and soften the mind and
strengthen the body--give manly grace, and graceful manliness."

[The fundamental ideas of this speech are drawn from
Plato's ideal "State."]

After a moment's pause Rhodopis went on: "The youth who has not received
such an education, whose roughness has never been checked even in
childhood, who has been allowed to vent his temper on every one,
receiving flattery in return and never hearing reproof; who has been
allowed to command before he has learnt to obey, and who has been brought
up in the belief that splendor, power and riches are the highest good,
can never possibly attain to the perfect manhood, which we beseech the
gods to grant our boys.  And if this unfortunate being happens to have
been born with an impetuous disposition, ungovernable and eager passions,
these will be only nourished and increased by bodily exercise
unaccompanied by the softening influence of music, so that at last a
child, who possibly came into the world with good qualities, will, merely
through the defects in his education, degenerate into a destructive
animal, a sensual self-destroyer, and a mad and furious tyrant."

Rhodopis had become animated with her subject.  She ceased, saw tears in
the eyes of the queen, and felt that she had gone too far and had wounded
a mother's heart,--a heart full of noble feeling.  She touched her robe,
kissed its border, and said softly: "Forgive me."

Kassandane looked her forgiveness, courteously saluted Rhodopis and
prepared to leave the room.  On the threshold, however, she stopped and
said: "I am not angry.  Your reproaches are just; but you too must
endeavor to forgive, for I can assure you that he who has murdered the
happiness of your child and of mine, though the most powerful, is of all
mortals the most to be pitied.  Farewell!  Should you ever stand in need
of ought, remember Cyrus' widow, and how she wished to teach you, that
the virtues the Persians desire most in their children are magnanimity
and liberality."

After saying this she left the apartment.

On the same day Rhodopis heard that Phanes was dead.  He had retired to
Crotona in the neighborhood of Pythagoras and there passed his time in
reflection, dying with the tranquillity of a philosopher.

She was deeply affected at this news and said to Croesus: "Greece has
lost one of her ablest men, but there are many, who will grow up to be
his equals.  The increasing power of Persia causes me no fear; indeed, I
believe that when the barbarous lust of conquest stretches out its hand
towards us, our many-headed Greece will rise as a giant with one head of
divine power, before which mere barbaric strength must bow as surely as
body before spirit."

Three days after this, Sappho said farewell for the last time to her
grandmother, and followed the queens to Persia.  Notwithstanding the
events which afterwards took place, she continued to believe that Bartja
would return, and full of love, fidelity and tender remembrance, devoted
herself entirely to the education of her child and the care of her aged
mother-in-law, Kassandane.

Little Parmys became very beautiful, and learnt to love the memory of her
vanished father next to the gods of her native land, for her mother's
tales had brought him as vividly before her as if he had been still alive
and present with them.

Atossa's subsequent good fortune and happiness did not cool her
friendship.  She always called Sappho her sister.  The hanging-gardens
were the latter's residence in summer, and in her conversations there
with Kassandane and Atossa one name was often mentioned--the name of her,
who had been the innocent cause of events which had decided the destinies
of great kingdoms and noble lives--the Egyptian Princess.




CHAPTER XVI.

Here we might end this tale, but that we feel bound to give our readers
some account of the last days of Cambyses.  We have already described the
ruin of his mind, but his physical end remains still to be told, and also
the subsequent fate of some of the other characters in our history.

A short time after the departure of the queens, news reached Naukratis
that Oroetes, the satrap of Lydia, had, by a stratagem, allured his old
enemy, Polykrates, to Sardis and crucified him there,  thus fulfilling
what Amasis had prophecied of the tyrant's mournful end.  This act the
satrap had committed on his own responsibility, events having taken place
in the Median kingdom which threatened the fall of the Achaemenidaean
dynasty.

The king's long absence in a foreign country had either weakened or
entirely dissipated, the fear which the mere mention of his name had
formerly inspired in those who felt inclined to rebel.  The awe that his
subjects had formerly felt for him, vanished at the tidings of his
madness, and the news that he had wantonly exposed the lives of thousands
of their countrymen to certain death in the deserts of Libya and
Ethiopia, inspired the enraged Asiatics with a hatred which, when
skilfully fed by the powerful Magi, soon roused, first the Medes and
Assyrians, and then the Persians, to defection and open insurrection.
Motives of self-interest led the ambitious high-priest, Oropastes, whom
Cambyses had appointed regent in his absence, to place himself at the
head of this movement.  He flattered the people by remitting their taxes,
by large gifts and larger promises, and finding his clemency gratefully
recognized, determined on an imposture, by which he hoped to win the
crown of Persia for his own family.

He had not forgotten the marvellous likeness between his brother Gaumata
(who had been condemned to lose his ears) and Bartja, the son of Cyrus,
and on hearing that the latter, the universal favorite, as he well knew,
of the Persian nation, had disappeared, resolved to turn this to account
by passing off his brother as the vanished prince, and setting him on the
throne in place of Cambyses.  The hatred felt throughout the entire
kingdom towards their insane king, and the love and attachment of the
nation to Bartja, made this stratagem so easy of accomplishment, that
when at last messengers from Oropastes arrived in all the provinces of
the empire declaring to the discontented citizens that, notwithstanding
the rumor they had heard, the younger son of Cyrus was still alive, had
revolted from his brother, ascended his father's throne and granted to
all his subjects freedom from tribute and from military service during a
period of three years, the new ruler was acknowledged throughout the
kingdom with rejoicings.

The pretended Bartja, who was fully aware of his brother's mental
superiority, had obeyed his directions in every particular, had taken up
his residence in the palace of Nisaea,--in the plains of Media, placed
the crown on his head, declared the royal harem his own, and had shown
himself once from a distance to the people, who were to recognize in him
the murdered Bartja.  After that time, however, for fear of being at last
unmasked, he concealed himself in his palace, giving himself up, after
the manner of Asiatic monarchs, to every kind of indulgence, while his
brother held the sceptre with a firm hand, and conferred all the
important offices of state on his friends and family.

No sooner did Oropastes feel firm ground under his feet, than he
despatched the eunuch Ixabates to Egypt, to inform the army of the change
of rulers that had taken place and persuade them to revolt in favor of
Bartja, who he knew had been idolized by the Soldiers.

The messenger had been well chosen, fulfilled his mission with much
skill, and had already won over a considerable part of the army for the
new king, when he was taken prisoner by some Syrians, who brought him to
Memphis in hopes of reward.

On arriving in the city of the Pyramids he was brought before the king,
and promised impunity on condition of revealing the entire truth.

The messenger then confirmed the rumor, which had reached Egypt, that
Bartja had ascended the throne of Cyrus and had been recognized by the
greater part of the empire.

Cambyses started with terror at these tidings, as one who saw a dead man
rise from his grave.  He was by this time fully aware that Bartja had
been murdered by Prexaspes at his own command, but in this moment he
began to suspect that the envoy had deceived him and spared his brother's
life.  The thought had no sooner entered his mind than he uttered it,
reproaching Prexaspes so bitterly with treachery, as to elicit from him a
tremendous oath, that he had murdered and buried the unfortunate Bartja
with his own hand.

Oropastes' messenger was next asked whether he had seen the new king
himself.  He answered that he had not, adding that the supposed brother
of Cambyses had only once appeared in public, and had then shown himself
to the people from a distance.  On hearing this, Prexaspes saw through
the whole web of trickery at once, reminded the king of the unhappy
misunderstandings to which the marvellous likeness between Bartja and
Gaumata had formerly given rise, and concluded by offering to stake his
own life on the correctness of his supposition.  The explanation pleased
the king, and from that moment his diseased mind was possessed by one new
idea to the exclusion of all others--the seizure and slaughter of the
Magi.

The host was ordered to prepare for marching.  Aryandes,--one of the
Achaemenidae, was appointed satrap of Egypt, and the army started
homeward without delay.  Driven by this new delusion, the king took no
rest by day or night, till at last his over-ridden and ill-used horse
fell with him, and he was severely wounded in the fall by his own dagger.

After lying insensible for some days, he opened his eyes and asked first
to see Araspes, then his mother, and lastly Atossa, although these three
had set out on their journey home months before.  From all he said it
appeared that during the last four years, from the attack of fever until
the present accident, he had been living in a kind of sleep.  He seemed
astonished and pained at hearing what had happened during these years.
But of his brother's death he was fully aware.  He knew that Prexaspes
had killed him by his--the king's--orders and had told him that Bartja
lay buried on the shores of the Red Sea.--During the night which followed
this return to his senses it became clear to himself also, that his mind
had been wandering for along time.  Towards morning he fell into a deep
sleep, and this so restored his strength, that on waking he called for
Croesus and required an exact relation of the events that had passed
during the last few years.

His old friend and adviser obeyed; he felt that Cambyses was still
entrusted to his care, and in the hope, faint as it was, of bringing him
back to the right way, he did not suppress one of the king's acts of
violence in his relation.

His joy was therefore great at perceiving, that his words made a deep
impression on the newly-awakened mind of the king.  With tears in his
eyes, and with the ashamed look of a child, he grieved over his wrong
deeds and his madness, begged Croesus to forgive him, thanked him for
having borne so long and faithfully with him, and commissioned him to ask
Kassandane and Sappho especially for forgiveness, but also, Atossa and
all whom he had unjustly offended.

The old man wept too, but his tears were tears of joy and he repeatedly
assured Cambyses that he would recover and have ample opportunity of
making amends for the past.  But to all this Cambyses shook his head
resolutely, and, pale and wan as he looked, begged Croesus to have his
couch carried on to a rising ground in the open air, and then to summon
the Achaemenidae.  When these orders, in spite of the physicians, had
been obeyed, Cambyses was raised into an upright sitting position, and
began, in a voice which could be heard at a considerable distance:

"The time to reveal my great secret has arrived, O ye Persians.  Deceived
by a vision, provoked and annoyed by my brother, I caused him to be
murdered in my wrath.  Prexaspes wrought the evil deed by my command, but
instead of bringing me the peace I yearned for, that deed has tortured me
into madness and death.  By this my confession ye will be convinced, that
my brother Bartja is really dead.  The Magi have usurped the throne of
the Achaemenidae.  Oropastes, whom I left in Persia as my vicegerent and
his brother Gaumata, who resembles Bartja so nearly that even Croesus,
Intaphernes and my uncle, the noble Hystaspes, were once deceived by the
likeness, have placed themselves at their head.  Woe is me, that I have
murdered him who, as my nearest kinsman, should have avenged on the Magi
this affront to my honor.  But I cannot recall him from the dead, and I
therefore appoint you the executors of my last will.  By the Feruer of my
dead father, and in the name of all good and pure spirits, I conjure you
not to suffer the government to fall into the hands of the unfaithful
Magi.  If they have obtained possession thereof by artifice, wrest it
from their hands in like manner; if by force, use force to win it back.
Obey this my last will, and the earth will yield you its fruits
abundantly; your wives, your flocks and herds shall be blessed and
freedom shall be your portion.  Refuse to obey it, and ye shall suffer
the corresponding evils; yea, your end, and that of every Persian shall
be even as mine."

After these words the king wept and sank back fainting, on seeing which,
the Achaemenidae rent their clothes and burst into loud lamentations.  A
few hours later Cambyses died in Croesus' arms.  Nitetis was his last
thought; he died with her name on his lips and tears of penitence in his
eyes.  When the Persians had left the unclean corpse, Croesus knelt down
beside it and cried, raising his hand to heaven: "Great Cyrus, I have
kept my oath.  I have remained this miserable man's faithful adviser
even unto his end."

The next morning the old man betook himself, accompanied by his son
Gyges, to the town of Barene, which belonged to him, and lived there many
years as a father to his subjects, revered by Darius and praised by all
his contemporaries.

........................

After Cambyses' death the heads of the seven Persian tribes held a
council, and resolved, as a first measure, on obtaining certain
information as to the person of the usurper.  With this view, Otanes sent
a confidential eunuch to his daughter Phaedime, who, as they knew, had
come into the possession of the new king with the rest of Cambyses'
harem.

[The names of the seven conspiring chiefs, given by Herodotus agree
for the most part with those in the cuneiform inscriptions.  The
names are: Otanes, Intaphernes, Gobryas, Megabyzus, Aspatines,
Hydarnes and Darius Hystaspis.  In the inscription Otana:
Vindafrand, Gaubaruva, Ardumams, Vidarna, Bagabukhsa and Darayavus.]

Before the messenger returned, the greater part of the army had
dispersed, the soldiers seizing this favorable opportunity to return to
their homes and families, after so many years of absence.  At last,
however, the long-expected messenger came back and brought for answer,
that the new king had only visited Phaedime once, but that during that
visit she had, at great personal risk, discovered that he had lost both
ears.  Without this discovery, however, she could assert positively that
though there were a thousand points of similarity between the usurper and
the murdered Bartja, the former was in reality none other than Gaumata,
the brother of Oropastes.  Her old friend Boges had resumed his office of
chief of the eunuchs, and had revealed to her the secrets of the Magi.
The high-priest had met the former keeper of the women begging in the
streets of Susa, and had restored him to his old office with the words:
"You have forfeited your life, but I want men of your stamp."  In
conclusion.  Phaedime entreated her father to use every means in his
power for the overthrow of the Magi, as they treated her with the
greatest contempt and she was the most miserable of women.

Though none of the Achaemenidae hall really for a moment believed; that
Bartja was alive and had seized on the throne, so clear an account of the
real person of the usurper was very welcome to them, and they resolved at
once to march on Nisaea with the remnant of the army and overthrow the
Magi either by craft or force.

They entered the new capital unassailed, and finding that the majority of
the people seemed content with the new government, they also pretended to
acknowledge the king as the son of Cyrus, to whom they were prepared to
do homage.  The Magi, however, were not deceived; they shut themselves up
in their palace, assembled an army in the Nisaean plain, promised the
soldiers high pay, and used every effort to strengthen the belief of the
people in Gaumata's disguise.  On this point no one could do them more
injury, or, if he chose, be more useful to them, than Prexaspes.  He was
much looked up to by the Persians, and his assurance, that he had not
murdered Bartja, would have been sufficient to tame the fast-spreading
report of the real way in which the youth had met his death.  Oropastes,
therefore, sent for Prexaspes, who, since the king's dying words, had
been avoided by all the men of his own rank and had led the life of an
outlaw, and promised him an immense sum of money, if he would ascend a
high tower and declare to the people, assembled in the court beneath,
that evil-disposed men had called him Bartja's murderer, whereas he had
seen the new king with his own eyes and had recognized in him the younger
son of his benefactor.  Prexaspes made no objection to this proposal,
took a tender leave of his family while the people were being assembled,
uttered a short prayer before the sacred fire-altar and walked proudly to
the palace.  On his way thither he met the chiefs of the seven tribes and
seeing that they avoided him, called out to them: "I am worthy of your