The Historians' History of the World 02 [Israel, India, Persia, Phoenicia, Minor Nations of Western Asia]

Wide-ruling Lydian, in thy wishes wild,

Ask not to hear the accents of thy child;

Far better were his silence for thy peace,

And sad will be the day when that shall cease.

During the storm of the city a Persian, meeting Crœsus, was, through ignorance of his person, about to kill him. The king overwhelmed by his calamity, took no care to avoid the blow or escape death; but his dumb son, when he saw the violent designs of the Persian, overcome with astonishment and terror, exclaimed aloud, “Oh, man, do not kill Crœsus!” This was the first time he had ever articulated, but he retained the faculty of speech from this event, as long as he lived.

The Persians thus obtained possession of Sardis, and made Crœsus captive, when he had reigned fourteen years and after a siege of fourteen days; a mighty empire, agreeably to the prediction which had deluded him, being then destroyed. The Persians brought him to the presence of Cyrus, who ordered him to be placed in chains upon the summit of an huge wooden pile, with fourteen Lydian youths around him. He did this, either desirous of offering to some deity the first-fruits of his victory, in compliance with a vow which he had made; or, perhaps, anxious to know whether any deity would liberate Crœsus, of whose piety he had heard much, from the danger of being consumed by fire. When Crœsus stood erect upon the pile, although in this extremity of misery, he did not forget the saying of Solon, which now appeared of divine inspiration, that no living mortal could be accounted happy. When the remembrance of this saying occurred to Crœsus, it is said, that rousing himself from the profoundest silence of affliction, he thrice pronounced aloud the name of Solon. Cyrus, hearing this, desired by his interpreters to know who it was that he invoked. They approached and asked him, but he continued silent. At length, being compelled to explain himself, he said, “I named a man with whom I had rather that all kings should converse, than be master of the greatest riches.” Not being sufficiently understood, he was solicited to be more explicit; to their repeated and importunate inquiries, he replied to this effect: That Solon, an Athenian, had formerly visited him, a man who, when he had seen all his immense riches, treated them with disdain; whose sayings were at that moment verified in his fate—sayings which he had applied not to him in particular, but to all mankind, and especially to those who were in their own estimation happy. While Crœsus was thus speaking the pile was lighted, and the flame began to ascend. Cyrus being informed of what had passed, felt compunction for what he had done. His heart reproached him, that being himself a mortal, he had condemned to a cruel death by fire, a man formerly not inferior to himself. He feared the anger of the gods, and reflecting that all human affairs are precarious and uncertain, he commanded the fire to be instantly extinguished, and Crœsus to be saved with his companions. They could not, however, with all their efforts, extinguish the flames.

In this extremity, the Lydians affirm, that Crœsus, informed of the change of the king’s sentiments in his favour by seeing the officious but seemingly useless efforts of the multitude to extinguish the flames, implored the assistance of Apollo, entreating, that if he had ever made him any acceptable offering, he would now interpose and deliver him from the impending danger. When Crœsus, with tears, had thus invoked the god, the sky, which before was serene and tranquil, suddenly became dark and gloomy, a violent storm of rain succeeded, and the fire of the pile was extinguished. This event satisfied Cyrus that Crœsus was both a good man in himself and a favourite of Heaven: causing him to be taken down from the pile, “Crœsus,” said he, addressing him, “what could induce you to invade my territories, and become my enemy rather than my friend?” “O king,” replied Crœsus, “it was the prevalence of your good and of my evil fortune which prompted my attempt. I attacked your dominions, impelled and deluded by the deity of the Greeks. No man can be so infatuated as not to prefer tranquillity to war. In peace, children inter their parents; war violates the order of nature, and causes parents to inter their children. It must have pleased the gods that these things should so happen.”