The Boys' Book of Rulers

Just outside of the dreary forest is a poor herdsman’s hut. Here, too, might have been found an infant; but it is crowing and smiling as it raises its chubby fists to its mouth and tries to catch the sunshine, which streams in through the open door, and falls upon the wall over its head. This baby is clothed in the coarse garments of a peasant’s child. And yet the infant in the costly robes, in the wild forest, is really the dead child of a poor herdsman; and this crowing, laughing baby, dressed in peasant clothes, and lying in the lowly hut, is none other than the future Cyrus the Great, upon whom hang the destinies of a vast empire. The remarkable story regarding the birth and early boyhood of Cyrus the Great is recounted by Herodotus, one of the greatest and earliest of Grecian historians. Herodotus and Xenophon – a noted Grecian general, as well as historian – are the chief sources of information regarding most of the important historical events of that period of the world. Some parts of their accounts are thought to be historical romances, founded on facts; but as they have become a part of the history of those times, I shall gather the story of Cyrus from the events related by both these writers.

About 599 B.C. there were three kingdoms in the centre of Asia: Assyria, Media, and Persia. Astyages was king of Media. One night Astyages awoke from a terrible dream: he had dreamed that a fearful inundation had overwhelmed his kingdom. As the deluge seemed in some mysterious manner to be connected in his mind with his only daughter, Mandane, he imagined that it portended that evil should come to his throne through her children. And so he arranged that she should marry Cambyses, ruling prince of Persia. In this manner he hoped to remove her so far distant, and place her in so weak a kingdom, that he need have no fears.

A year after his daughter’s marriage to the king of Persia, Astyages had another dream, – of a great vine which overspread his kingdom. This vine also appeared to be associated in his mind with his daughter. So he called the soothsayers, who declared that it portended the future power of his daughter’s son, who should become a king.

Astyages was now so alarmed that he determined to destroy the child. So, with seeming kindness, he invited his daughter Mandane to make him a visit. He placed her in a palace and surrounded her with his own spies and servants. As soon as the infant son was born, Astyages sent for an officer of his court, named Harpagus, whom he thought was unscrupulous enough to obey his evil commands. Astyages ordered Harpagus to go and request the attendants of Mandane to allow him to see the infant; and then, under pretence that his grandfather Astyages desired that the infant should be brought to him, Harpagus should take the child away, and in some manner cause it to be put to death.

Harpagus did not dare to refuse, and accordingly went to the palace in which Mandane was residing. Her attendants, not suspecting his evil designs, arrayed the infant in its most beautiful robes, and delivered it into his care. Harpagus took the child home and consulted with his wife what he should do. He did not dare to disobey the king, and also, as Mandane was the daughter of the king, he feared to carry out the terrible deed himself.

In his perplexity he sent for one of his herdsmen, named Mitridates, living near wild and desolate forests. When Mitridates arrived, Harpagus gave the infant to him, commanding him to expose it in the forests for three days, and when the child was dead, to send him word.

The herdsman dared not refuse this wicked mission, and took the child home to his hut. His wife Spaco had at that time just lost an infant of the same age, and its dead body was still unburied. When she saw the beautiful babe of Mandane, she implored her husband to let her keep it in place of her dead child, who was accordingly arrayed in the costly robes of the young prince, while the royal baby was dressed in the coarse garments of the little dead peasant. The body of the dead infant was then placed in the royal cradle, or basket, in which the little prince had been carried from the palace; and after being exposed in the forest for three days, attended by watchers to keep away the wild beasts, the herdsman sent word to Harpagus that the infant was dead. Harpagus sent trusty messengers to see if the report was true; and when they saw the dead infant in the royal robes, they returned with the assurance that his orders had been complied with, and that they had seen the dead child. Harpagus gave orders to have the body buried, and sent word to King Astyages that the infant was dead.

The truth about the young Cyrus was not discovered until ten years after, and came about in a very strange way. Cyrus had now grown to be a strong, bright boy of ten years of age, and was supposed to be the son of the peasant herdsman. Several of the sons of the Median nobles were accustomed to meet in the neighborhood where he lived, for their sports, and Cyrus was always their leader in all pursuits. The story goes that he was once chosen as their king in a boyish game; and one of the nobles’ sons, being one of his subjects, and having disobeyed his commands, the boy king Cyrus punished him very severely. The father of the young noble complained to King Astyages of this ill treatment which his son had suffered at the hands of a peasant boy. Whereupon, the herdsman Mitridates and his supposed son were summoned to appear at court.

When the young Cyrus entered the presence of the king, Astyages was astonished at his manly bearing and his unusual beauty, and with an unaccountable feeling of interest in the supposed peasant boy, he inquired if the complaint of the noble was true. The little disguised prince looked up into the face of the dread monarch, in whose presence all his subjects trembled, and with perfect self-possession, replied, —

“My lord, what I have done I am able to justify. I did punish this boy, and I had a right to do so. I was king, and he was my subject, and he would not obey me. If you think that for this I deserve punishment myself, here I am; I am ready to suffer for it.”

Astyages was so surprised at this unlooked-for answer that he hastily commanded that Mitridates should be brought before him; and under threats of severe punishment, he demanded that he should tell him the truth about the lad; for he had grave doubts about his being the peasant’s son. Mitridates, frightened by the stern manner of the king, confessed the truth, and related all the circumstances regarding the infant who had been committed to him by Harpagus.

Astyages had deeply regretted his evil intentions towards his grandson, which, as he supposed, had ended in his death, and gladly claimed Cyrus as his own. But with strange inconsistency, he was equally incensed against Harpagus, who had dared to disobey his commands, by not causing the infant to be put to death; and he determined to celebrate in a strange and most shocking manner his joy at the recovery of his grandson, and his anger at the disobedience of Harpagus. So with wicked craftiness he sent word to Harpagus that his grandson had been discovered, and commanded that Harpagus should send his son, a boy about thirteen years of age, up to the palace to be a companion for young Cyrus. Furthermore, he announced that he was about to celebrate his joy at the recovery of his grandson, by a grand festival, at which he invited Harpagus to be present.

Harpagus suspecting no evil, and rejoicing at the happy sequel of that deed which had occasioned him much disquiet, having sent his son to the palace, according to the command of the king, related to his wife the strange events which had taken place. Neither of them were suspicious of any evil design in this seeming kindliness of Astyages, and thought it a fitting honor for their son, that he should be chosen as the companion of Prince Cyrus. Harpagus went to the festival, and was given a seat of honor at the table. Various dishes were set before the guests, and the attendants were especially attentive to see that Harpagus was most bountifully served. At the end of the feast, Astyages asked Harpagus how he had liked his fare. Harpagus expressed himself as being well pleased. The king then ordered the servants to bring in a basket, which they uncovered before Harpagus, and he beheld with horror the head, hands, and feet of his own son.

The story relates that Harpagus did not display his terrible despair by word or look; and when the wicked king asked him if he knew what he had been eating, he replied that he did, and whatever was the will of the king was pleasing to him. Such shocking cruelties reveal the wickedness of those despotic times.

Harpagus satisfied his revenge against the cruel Astyages, many years afterwards, in a manner which will be disclosed as this story continues. A king whose greed of power could condemn an own grandson to death would not scruple at other crimes. Astyages now again consulted the soothsayers as to his safety in recognizing Cyrus as his grandson and giving him his royal place at court. The Magi now replied, that as Cyrus had already been a king, even though it was only in a childish game, still, as he had been called a king, the oracles had been fulfilled, and Astyages need fear no further danger to his kingdom. Astyages therefore sent Cyrus to his parents in Persia, who received their long-lost son with overwhelming delight; and the youthful Cyrus was no doubt astonished and rejoiced to find himself the son and grandson of powerful kings, rather than a simple peasant boy, the son of a poor herdsman.

Cyrus is described by the historians as being tall and handsome, and excelling in all youthful exploits.

Xenophon describes the life of young Cyrus in the court of his father Cambyses, king of Persia. The sons of all the nobles and officers of the court were educated together in the royal palace. They were not taught to read, as there were no books, but they had certain teachers who explained to them the principles of right and wrong, and described to them the various laws of the land, and the rules by which controversies should be settled. These were put to practical use in deciding the various cases which occurred among the boys themselves; and judges were chosen from their number who should discuss and decide these questions. Right decisions were rewarded, and wrong ones punished. Cyrus himself was once punished for a wrong decision. The case was this: —

A larger boy took away the coat of a smaller boy, whose coat was bigger than his own, and gave him his own smaller coat. The smaller boy appealed to Cyrus, who decided that each boy should keep the coat that fitted him. The teacher condemned his decision in these words, —

“When you are called upon to consider a question of what fits best, then you should determine as you have done in this case; but when you are appointed to decide whose each coat is, and to adjudge it to the proper owner, then you are to consider what constitutes right possession, and whether he who takes a thing by force from one who is weaker than himself, should have it, or whether he who made it or purchased it, should be protected in his property. You have decided against law and in favor of violence and wrong.”

The boys at this Persian court were taught many kinds of manly exercises. They were trained to wrestle and run, and were instructed in the use of all kinds of arms then known. Each one was furnished with a bow and arrows, a shield, a sword, or dagger, which was worn at the side in a scabbard, and two javelins, one of which they were to throw, and the other to keep in the hand for use in close combat with the wild beasts which they might encounter in their hunting expeditions. These excursions were often long and fatiguing, which they took by turns with the king in the neighboring forests.

They were subjected to long marches, to cold and hunger and storms, and sometimes dangerous conflicts. These experiences were considered necessary to fit them to become good soldiers in the future.

When Cyrus was about twelve years of age, he was invited by his grandfather Astyages to make him a visit in Media. When Cyrus arrived in Media with his mother Mandane, he was surprised at the magnificence and pomp of the royal court; as the manners and habits of the Persians were very simple, and as he had been sent to Persia as soon as his royal rank had been discovered, he had not before had an opportunity of seeing the splendor of his grandfather’s court.

In his first interview with Astyages, Cyrus displayed his great tact and natural courtesy. When he came into the presence of his grandfather, who wore a purple robe richly embroidered with gold and covered with precious stones, and bracelets upon his arms, and a long, flowing wig, while his face was painted and powdered, Cyrus exclaimed, —

“Why, mother, what a handsome man my grandfather is!”

Cyrus was dazzled by the great display around him, for in the Persian court, Cambyses his father, and all his nobles, were clothed with great simplicity. Mandane then said to Cyrus, —

“Which one do you think the handsomer man, your father or your grandfather?”

It was a very unwise question to ask a child, but Cyrus was equal to the emergency, and replied with great tact and politeness, —

“My father is the handsomest man in Persia, but my grandfather is the handsomest of all the Medes.”

Astyages was much pleased with the aptness of this reply, and Cyrus became a great favorite with his grandfather, who lavished upon him costly garments, rich feasts, rare jewels, and the attentions of a retinue of servants. But after the first novelty had passed away, Cyrus preferred his more simple raiment and plainer food.

At one time, Astyages invited Cyrus and his mother to one of his grand feasts in his palace, and ordered the rarest viands to be served for Cyrus in the most elegant and costly dishes. Instead of being flattered, Cyrus showed no particular pleasure or surprise, and when Astyages asked him if he did not delight in such rich and delicate food, and if the feast before him was not much finer than any he had seen in Persia, Cyrus replied, —

“We manage much better in Persia; it is very troublesome to eat a little of so many things.”

“How do you manage in Persia?” asked Astyages.

“When we are hungry, we eat plain meat and bread, and so we get health and strength and have very little trouble,” answered Cyrus.

Astyages then told Cyrus that he might continue his plain fare in Media, if he thought it was better for his health. Cyrus then asked his grandfather if he would give him all the costly dishes before him to do as he wished with them. To this Astyages consented, and Cyrus, calling up one of the attendants after another, presented to them as gifts the various elegant dishes with their contents. To one he said, “I give you this because you serve the king faithfully”; to another, “I make you this present because you are faithful to my mother”; and to another, “Because you have taught me to throw the javelin.” Thus he went on until all the gifts had been disposed of. Now the king had one servant, whom he honored above all others, who held the office of cup-bearer.

In those days this was an important trust, for those despotic monarchs possessed so many enemies that they were in constant danger of assassination or of being poisoned. The king’s cup-bearer must superintend the food of his master, and taste all wines himself before offering them to the king.

Great dexterity and grace were necessary to perform the latter service acceptably, as the king’s cup must not be placed to the lips of his cup-bearer, but a small portion must be poured into the palm of his hand, and lifted gracefully to his mouth.

Astyages’ cup-bearer was a Sacian; he was an officer of high rank, tall and handsome, and magnificently dressed. In distributing his gifts, Cyrus had neglected this officer, and when Astyages asked him his reason, Cyrus replied that he did not like the Sacian. Astyages inquired the cause of this dislike, and remarked, “Have you not observed how gracefully and elegantly he pours out the wine for me, and then hands me the cup?”

Cyrus replied that he could pour out the wine and offer the cup as well as the Sacian, and requested his grandfather to allow him to try. To this the amused king consented, and Cyrus, taking a goblet of wine in his hand, retired from the room. He soon re-entered with the pompous and dignified bearing of the Sacian, and so mimicked his manner of gravity and self-importance as to occasion much mirth amongst the assembled guests.

Cyrus, having advanced to the king, presented him with the cup, neglecting not even one single motion of the usual ceremony, except tasting the wine himself. Mandane and the king laughed heartily, and the would-be cup-bearer, becoming the child again, jumped into his grandfather’s arms, exclaiming, “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 his grandfather.

“Because the wine was poisoned,” replied Cyrus.

“What makes you think it is poisoned?” inquired Astyages.

“Because,” said Cyrus, “it was poisoned the other day when you made a feast for your friends on your birthday. 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 anybody 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 be poisoned.”

“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.”

“But why do you dislike this Sacian so much, my son?” asked Mandane.

“Why, every time that I want to come and see my grandfather,” replied Cyrus, “he always stops me, and will not let me come in. I wish, grandfather, you would let me have the rule of him for just three days.”

“What would you do?” asked Astyages.

“I would treat him as he treats me now,” answered 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 cannot come in now; he is busy.’” Cyrus repeated these words in the tones and with the grave manner of the Sacian.

“Then,” continued Cyrus, “when he was coming to get his supper, I would say, ‘You must not come in now; he is bathing, or he is going to sleep; you must come some other time, for he cannot be disturbed.’ Thus I would torment him all the time, as he now torments me in keeping me from you when I want to see you.”

When the time arrived for Mandane to return to Persia, Astyages was very desirous to have Cyrus remain with him; Mandane gave her consent if Cyrus should wish to do so. Astyages told Cyrus that if he would stay, the Sacian should torment him no more, but that he should be allowed to come into his presence whenever he wished to do so, and, moreover, he should have the use of all his grandfather’s horses. He should also have boys of his own age for companions, and they would be allowed to hunt the animals in the park. They could pursue them on horseback and shoot them with bows and arrows, or throw the javelins at their prey. This pleasure of riding and hunting was a rare one to Cyrus, for the Persians had few horses, and there were no bodies of cavalry in their armies. Cyrus represented to his mother the great advantage it would be to him to be a skilful horseman, as that would give him a superiority over all the Persian youths. Mandane was somewhat anxious lest the luxurious habits and haughty manners of his grandfather should prove a bad example for Cyrus, but he assured her that she need have no fears, as his grandfather required all to be submissive to himself, and allowed imperiousness in no one but the king. So it was decided that Cyrus should remain in Media, and Mandane departed for Persia.

Cyrus now applied himself with great diligence to acquire all 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 among the boys, Cyrus would courteously challenge those superior to himself in these exercises, thus giving them the pleasure of winning the prize, and benefiting himself by thus having the greater stimulus of contesting with attainments higher than his own. He accordingly made rapid progress, and speedily learned to equal and then surpass his companions without occasioning any envy or jealousy.

It was their favorite amusement to hunt the deer in his grandfather’s park; but at last, so vigorous had been their onslaught, that the animals were wellnigh exhausted, and Astyages went to great trouble to secure further supplies. Cyrus then requested that they be allowed to hunt in the forests, and hunt the wild beasts with the men. As Cyrus had now grown up into a tall, robust young man, able to sustain the fatigues of the hunt, his grandfather consented that Cyrus should go out with his son Cyaxares. The party set out in high spirits. There were certain attendants appointed to keep particular guard over Cyrus, and prevent him from rushing rashly into danger. His attendants told him that the dangerous animals were bears, lions, tigers, boars, and leopards; and as they often attacked man, he must avoid them; but that he could hunt the stags, goats, and wild sheep as much as he pleased. They also told him of the dangers in riding over a rough country where the broken ground and steep, rocky precipices made riding difficult, and hunters driving impetuously over such a country were often thrown from their horses, or fell with them into the chasms and were killed. Cyrus promised to remember their warning; but no sooner had he entered into the excitement of the chase than he forgot all their counsels, and riding furiously after a stag, his horse came to a chasm which he was obliged to leap. But the distance was too great, and the horse fell upon his knees as he reached the farther side, and for a moment before he recovered his footing Cyrus was in imminent danger of being precipitated to the bottom of the deep precipice. But Cyrus was fearless; and as soon as his horse had regained his feet and cleared the chasm, he pressed on after the stag, overtook him, and killed him with his javelin. As soon as his frightened attendants came up to him, they reproved him for his reckless daring, and they threatened to report to his grandfather. Just at the instant he heard a new halloo, as fresh game had been started, and forgetting all his resolutions, Cyrus sprang upon his horse with a loud shout and followed the chase. The game now started was a dangerous wild boar, and Cyrus instead of shunning the peril, as he should have done in obedience to his grandfather’s orders, dashed after the boar, and aimed so true a thrust with his javelin against the beast as to transfix him in the forehead. The boar fell dying upon the ground, and Cyrus waited for the party to arrive, with pride and triumph. When his uncle Cyaxares came near, he reproved Cyrus for running such risks, and said that if his grandfather knew what he had done, he would punish him. “Let him punish me,” said Cyrus, “if he wishes after I have shown him the stag and the hoar, and you may punish me too if you will only let me show him the animals I have killed.” Cyaxares consented, and ordered the bodies of the beasts and the bloody javelins to be carried home. Cyrus presented them to his grandfather, who thanked him for the presents, but said he had no such need of game as to require his grandson to thus expose himself to danger. “Well, grandfather,” said Cyrus, “if you don’t wish the meat yourself, will you let me give it to my friends.” Astyages agreed to this, and Cyrus divided his booty amongst all his young companions who had hunted with him in the park. The boys took their several portions home, giving glowing accounts of the skilful exploits of the giver. Thus was Cyrus thus early ambitious of spreading his own fame.