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It wanted two hours of midnight. Bright light was streaming through the open windows of Rhodopis’ house, and sounds of mirth and gaiety fell on the ear. Her table had been adorned with special care in Croesus’ honor.

On the cushions around it lay the guests with whom we are already acquainted: Theodorus, Ibykus, Phanes, Aristomachus, the merchant Theopompus of Miletus, Croesus and others, crowned with chaplets of poplar and roses.

Theodorus the sculptor was speaking: “Egypt seems to me,” he said, “like a girl who persists in wearing a tight and painful shoe only because it is of gold, while within her reach he beautiful and well-fitting slippers in which she could move at ease, if she only would.”

“You refer to the Egyptians’ pertinacity in retaining traditional forms and customs?” asked Croesus.

“Certainly I do,” answered the sculptor. “Two centuries ago Egypt was unquestionably the first of the nations. In Art and Science she far excelled us; but we learnt their methods of working, improved on them, held firm to no prescribed proportions, but to the natural types alone, gave freedom and beauty to their unbending outlines, and now have left our masters far behind us. But how was this possible? simply because the Egyptians, bound by unalterable laws, could make no progress; we, on the contrary, were free to pursue our course in the wide arena of art as far as will and power would allow.”

“But how can an artist be compelled to fashion statues alike, which are meant to differ from each other in what they represent?”

“In this case that can be easily explained. The entire human body is divided by the Egyptians into 21 1/4 parts, in accordance with which division the proportion of each separate limb is regulated. I, myself, have laid a wager with Amasis, in presence of the first Egyptian sculptor, (a priest of Thebes), that, if I send my brother Telekles, in Ephesus, dimensions, proportion and attitude, according to the Egyptian method, he and I together can produce a statue which shall look as if sculptured from one block and by one hand, though Telekles is to carve the lower half at Ephesus, and I the upper here in Sais, and under the eye of Amasis.”

[These numbers, and the story which immediately follows, are taken

from Diodorus I. 98. Plato tells us that, in his time, a law

existed binding the Egyptian artists to execute their works with

exactly the same amount of beauty or its reverse, as those which had

been made more than a thousand years before. This statement is

confirmed by the monuments; but any one well acquainted with

Egyptian art can discern a marked difference in the style of each

epoch. At the time of the ancient kingdom the forms were compressed

and stunted; under Seti I. beauty of proportion reached its highest

point. During and after the 20th dynasty the style declined in

beauty; in the 26th, under the descendants of Psammetichus, we meet

with a last revival of art, but the ancient purity of form was never

again attained.]

“And shall you win your wager?”

“Undoubtedly. I am just going to begin this trick of art; it will as little deserve the name of a work of art, as any Egyptian statue.”

“And yet there are single sculptures here which are of exquisite workmanship; such, for instance, as the one Amasis sent to Samos as a present to Polykrates. In Memphis I saw a statue said to be about three thousand years old, and to represent a king who built the great Pyramid, which excited my admiration in every respect. With what certainty and precision that unusually hard stone has been wrought! the muscles, how carefully carved! especially in the breast, legs and feet; the harmony of the features too, and, above all, the polish of the whole, leave nothing to be desired.”

“Unquestionably. In all the mechanism of art, such as precision and certainty in working even the hardest materials, the Egyptians, though they have so long stood still in other points, are still far before us; but to model form with freedom, to breathe, like Prometheus, a soul into the stone, they will never learn until their old notions on this subject have been entirely abandoned. Even the pleasing varieties of corporeal life cannot be represented by a system of mere proportions, much less those which are inner and spiritual. Look at the countless statues which have been erected during the last three thousand years, in all the temples and palaces from Naukratis up to the Cataracts. They are all of one type, and represent men of middle age, with grave but benevolent countenances. Yet they are intended, some as statues of aged monarchs, others to perpetuate the memory of young princes. The warrior and the lawgiver, the blood-thirsty tyrant and the philanthropist are only distinguished from each other by a difference in size, by which the Egyptian sculptor expresses the idea of power and strength. Amasis orders a statue just as I should a sword. Breadth and length being specified, we both of us know quite well, before the master has begun his work, what we shall receive when it is finished. How could I possibly fashion an infirm old man like an eager youth? a pugilist like a runner in the foot-race? a poet like a warrior? Put Ibykus and our Spartan friend side by side, and tell me what you would say, were I to give to the stern warrior the gentle features and gestures of our heart-ensnaring poet.”

“Well, and how does Amasis answer your remarks on this stagnation in art?”

“He deplores it; but does not feel himself strong enough to abolish the restrictive laws of the priests.”

“And yet,” said the Delphian, “he has given a large sum towards the embellishment of our new temple, expressly, (I use his own words) for the promotion of Hellenic art!”

“That is admirable in him,” exclaimed Croesus. “Will the Alkmaeonidae soon have collected the three hundred talents necessary for the completion of the temple? Were I as rich as formerly I would gladly undertake the entire cost; notwithstanding that your malicious god so cruelly deceived me, after all my offerings at his shrine. For when I sent to ask whether I should begin the war with Cyrus, he returned this answer: I should destroy a mighty kingdom by crossing the river Halys. I trusted the god, secured the friendship of Sparta according to his commands, crossed the boundary stream, and, in so doing, did indeed destroy a mighty kingdom; not however that of the Medes and Persians, but my own poor Lydia, which, as a satrapy of Cambyses, finds its loss of independence a hard and uncongenial yoke.”

“You blame the god unjustly,” answered Phryxus. “It cannot be his fault that you, in your human conceit, should have misinterpreted his oracle. The answer did not say ‘the kingdom of Persia,’ but ‘a kingdom’ should be destroyed through your desire for war. Why did you not enquire what kingdom was meant? Was not your son’s fate truly prophesied by the oracle? and also that on the day of misfortune he would regain his speech? And when, after the fall of Sardis, Cyrus granted your wish to enquire at Delphi whether the Greek gods made a rule of requiting their benefactors by ingratitude, Loxias answered that he had willed the best for you, but was controlled by a mightier power than himself, by that inexorable fate which had foretold to thy great ancestor, that his fifth successor was doomed to destruction.”

“In the first days of my adversity I needed those words far more than now,” interrupted Croesus. “There was a time when I cursed your god and his oracles; but later, when with my riches my flatterers had left me, and I became accustomed to pronounce judgment on my own actions, I saw clearly that not Apollo, but my own vanity had been the cause of my ruin. How could ‘the kingdom to be destroyed’ possibly mean mine, the mighty realm of the powerful Croesus, the friend of the gods, the hitherto unconquered leader? Had a friend hinted at this interpretation of the ambiguous oracle, I should have derided, nay, probably caused him to be punished. For a despotic ruler is like a fiery steed; the latter endeavors to kick him who touches his wounds with intent to heal; the former punishes him who lays a hand on the weak or failing points of his diseased mind. Thus I missed what, if my eyes had not been dazzled, I might easily have seen; and now that my vision is clearer, though I have nothing to lose, I am far more often anxious than in the days when none could possibly lose more than I. In comparison with those days, Phryxus, I may be called a poor man now, but Cambyses does not leave me to famish, and I can still raise a talent for your temple.”

Phryxus expressed his thanks, and Phanes remarked “The Alkmaeonida; will be sure to erect a beautiful edifice, for they are rich and ambitious, and desirous of gaining favor with the Amphiktyons, in order, by their aid, to overthrow the tyrants, secure to themselves a higher position than that of the family to which I belong, and with this, the guidance of state-affairs.”

“Is it true, as people say,” asked Ibykus, “that next to Agarista with whom Megakles received so rich a dowry, you, Croesus, have been the largest contributor to the wealth of the Alkmaeonidae?”

“True enough,” answered Croesus laughing.

“Tell us the story, I beg,” said Rhodopis.

“Well,” answered Croesus, “Alkmaeon of Athens once appeared at my court; his cheerfulness and cultivation pleased me well, and I retained him near me for some time. One day I showed him my treasure-chambers, at the sight of which he fell into despair, called himself a common beggar and declared that one good handful of these precious things would make him a happy man. I at once allowed him to take as much gold away as he could carry. What think you did Alkaemmon on this? sent for high Lydian riding-boots, an apron and a basket, had the one secured behind him, put the others on, and filled them all with gold, till they could hold no more. Not content with this, he strewed gold-dust in his hair and beard and filled his mouth to that extent that he appeared in the act of choking. In each hand he grasped a golden dish, and thus laden dragged himself out of the treasure-house, falling exhausted as he crossed the threshold. Never have I laughed so heartily as at this sight.”

“But did you grant him all these treasures?” said Rhodopis.

“Yes, yes, my friend; and did not think even then, that I had paid too dearly for the experience that gold can make fools even of clever men.”

“You were the most generous of monarchs,” cried Phanes.

“And make a tolerably contented beggar,” answered Croesus. “But tell me, Phryxus, how much has Amasis contributed to your collection?”

“He gave fifty tons of alum.”

“A royal gift!”

“And the prince Psamtik?”

“On my appealing to him by his father’s munificence, he turned his back on me, and answered with a bitter laugh: ‘Collect money for the destruction of your temple, and I am ready to double my father’s donation!’”

“The wretch!”

“Say rather: the true Egyptian! to Psamtik everything foreign is an abomination.”

“How much have the Greeks in Naukratis contributed?”

“Beside munificent private donations, each community has given twenty minae.”

“That is much.”

“Philoinus, the Sybarite, alone sent me a thousand drachmm, and accompanied his gift with a most singular epistle. May I read it aloud, Rhodopis?”

“Certainly,” answered she, “it will show you that the drunkard has repented of his late behaviour.”

The Delphian began: “Philoinus to Phryxus: It grieves me that at Rhodopis’ house the other night I did not drink more; for had I done so I should have lost consciousness entirely, and so have been unable to offend even the smallest insect. My confounded abstemiousness is therefore to blame, that I can no longer enjoy a place at the best table in all Egypt. I am thankful, however, to Rhodopis for past enjoyment, and in memory of her glorious roast-beef (which has bred in me the wish to buy her cook at any price) I send twelve large spits for roasting oxen,—[Rhodopis is said to have sent such a gift to Delphi. Herod.]—and beg they may be placed in some treasure-house at Delphi as an offering from Rhodopis. As for myself, being a rich man, I sign my name for a thousand drachmae, and beg that my gift may be publicly announced at the next Pythian games. To that rude fellow, Aristomachus of Sparta, express my thanks for the effectual manner in which he fulfilled my intention in coming to Egypt. I came hither for the purpose of having a tooth extracted by an Egyptian dentist said to take out teeth without causing much pain.

[The Egyptian dentists must have been very skilful. Artificial

teeth have been discovered in the jaws of mummies. See Blumenbach

on the teeth of the ancient Egyptians, and on mummies.]

Aristomachus, however, knocked out the defective tooth and so saved me from an operation, the thought of which had often made me tremble. On recovering consciousness, I found that three teeth had been knocked into my mouth, the diseased one and two others, which though healthy, would probably at some future time have caused me pain. Salute Rhodopis and the handsome Phanes from me. You I invite to an entertainment at my house in Sybaris, this day year. We are accustomed to issue invitations somewhat early, on account of my necessary preparations. I have caused this epistle to be written by my slave Sophotatus in an adjoining chamber, as merely to behold the labor of writing causes cramp in my fingers.”

A burst of laughter arose at these words, but Rhodopis said: “This letter gives me pleasure; it proves that Philoinus is not bad at heart. Brought up a Sybarite.”... She was suddenly interrupted by the voice of a stranger, who had entered unperceived, and, after apologizing to the venerable hostess and her guests for appearing without invitation among them, continued thus: “I am Gyges the son of Croesus; and it has not been merely for pastime, that I have ridden over from Sais in two hours lest I should arrive too late!”

“Menon, a cushion for our guest!” cried Rhodopis. “Be welcome to my house and take some repose after your wild, thoroughly Lydian, ride.”

“By the dog, Gyges!” exclaimed Croesus.

[An oath of Rhadamanthus used in order to avoid mentioning the names

of the gods. Schol. Aristoph. Aves. 520.]

“What brings thee here at this hour? I begged thee not to quit Bartja’s side.... But how thou look’st! what is the matter? has aught happened? speak, speak!”

In the first moment Gyges could not answer a word. To see his beloved father, for whose very life he had been in such anxiety, a safe and happy guest at this rich banquet, seemed to rob him of his speech a second time. At last, however, he was able to say: “The gods be praised, my father, that I see thee safe once more! Think not I forsook my post thoughtlessly. Alas! I am forced to appear as a bird of evil omen in this cheerful assembly. Know at once, ye guests, for I dare not lose time in preparing my words, that a treacherous assault awaits ye!”

They all sprang up as if struck by lightning. Aristomachus silently loosened his sword in its scabbard; Phanes extended his arms as if to discern whether the old athletic elasticity still dwelt there.

“What can it be?—what is their design?” echoed from all sides.

“This house is surrounded by Ethiopian soldiers!” answered Gyges. “A faithful fellow confided to me that the crown-prince had designs on one of your number; he was to be taken alive if possible, but killed if he resisted. Dreading lest thou shouldst be this victim, my father, I sped hither. The fellow had not lied. This house is surrounded. My horse shied on reaching your garden-gate, Rhodopis, jaded as he was. I dismounted, and could discern behind every bush the glitter of weapons and the eager eyes of men lying in ambush. They allowed us, however, to enter unmolested.”

At this moment Knakias rushed in crying, “Important news! On my way to the Nile to fetch water with which to prepare the wine-cup, I have just met a man who, in his haste, nearly ran over me.

[The water of the Nile has a very agreeable flavor. It is called by

one traveller the champagne among the waters. The ladies of the

Sultan’s harem send for this water even from Constantinople, and the

Arabs say, that if Mahomet had drunk thereof he would have desired

to live for ever.]

It was an Ethiop, one of Phanes’ boatmen, and he tells that just as he sprang out of the boat to bathe, a royal bark came alongside and a soldier asked the rest of the crew in whose service they were. On the helmsman answering, ‘in Phanes’ service,’ the royal boat passed on slowly. He, however, (the rower who was bathing), seated himself in fun on the rudder of the royal boat, and heard one Ethiopian soldier on board say to another, ‘Keep that craft well in sight; now we know where the bird sits, and it will be easy to catch him. Remember, Psamtik has promised us fifty gold rings if we bring the Athenian to Sais dead or alive.’ This is the report of Sebek, who has been in your service seven years, O Phanes.”

To both these accounts Phanes listened calmly. Rhodopis trembled. Aristomachus exclaimed, “Not a hair of your head shall be touched, if Egypt perish for it!” Croesus advised prudence. A tremendous excitement had mastered the whole party.

At last Phanes broke silence, saying: “Reflection is never more necessary than in a time of danger. I have thought the matter over, and see clearly that escape will be difficult. The Egyptians will try to get rid of me quietly. They know that I intend going on board a Phoecean trireme, which sets sail for Sigeum at a very early hour to-morrow morning, and have therefore no time to lose, if they will seize me. Your garden, Rhodopis, is entirely surrounded, and were I to remain here, your house would no longer be respected as a sanctuary; it would be searched and I taken in it. There can be no doubt that a watch has been set over the Phoecean ship also. Blood shall not be shed in vain on my account.”

“But you dare not surrender!” cried Aristomachus.

“No, no, I have a plan,” shouted Theopompus the Milesian merchant. “At sunrise to-morrow a ship sails for Miletus laden with Egyptian corn, but not from Naukratis, from Canopus. Take the noble Persian’s horse and ride thither. We will cut a way for you through the garden.”

“But,” said Gyges, “our little band is not strong enough to carry out such an attempt. We number in all ten men, and of these only three have swords; our enemies, on the other hand, number at least a hundred, and are armed to the teeth.”

“Lydian!” cried Aristomachus, “wert thou ten times more fainthearted than thou art, and were our enemies double their number, I at least, will fight them!”

Phanes grasped his friend’s hand. Gyges turned pale. This brave warrior had called him fainthearted; and again he could find no words to answer; for at every stirring emotion his tongue failed him. Suddenly the blood mounted to his face; his words came quickly and with decision: “Athenian, follow me! and thou, Spartan, who art not wont to use words heedlessly, call no man fainthearted again before thou knowest him. Friends, Phanes is safe, Farewell, father!”

The remaining guests surveyed these two departing men in silent wonder. As they stood there, silently listening, the sound of two horses galloping swiftly away fell on their ear, and after a longer interval a prolonged whistle from the Nile and a cry of distress.

“Where is Knakias?” said Rhodopis to one of her slaves.

“He went into the garden with Phanes and the Persian,” was the answer, and as it was being spoken, the old slave re-entered, pale and trembling.

“Have you seen my son?” cried Croesus. “Where is Phanes?”

“I was to bid you farewell from them both.”

“Then they are gone.—Whither? How was it possible?”...

“The Athenian and the Persian,” began the slave, “had a slight dispute in the anteroom. This over, I was told to divest both of their robes. Phanes then put on the stranger’s trousers, coat and girdle; on his own curls he placed the pointed Persian cap. The stranger wrapped himself in the Athenian’s chiton and mantle, placed the golden circlet above his brow, caused the hair to be shaved from his upper lip, and ordered me to follow him into the garden. Phanes, whom in his present dress, none could imagine to be other than a Persian, mounted one of the horses still waiting before the gate; the stranger called after him, ‘Farewell Gyges, farewell beloved Persian, a pleasant journey to thee, Gyges!’ The servant, who had been waiting, followed on the other horse. I could hear the clatter of arms among the bushes, but the Athenian was allowed to depart unmolested, the soldiers, without doubt, believing him to be a Persian.

“On returning to the house the stranger’s orders were: ‘Accompany me to Phanes’ bark, and cease not to call me by the Athenian’s name.’ ‘But the boatmen will betray you,’ I said. ‘Then go alone to them,’ he answered, ‘and command them to receive me as their master, Phanes.’ Then I prayed him to allow me to take the dress of the fugitive and become a prey to the pursuers; but he would by no means allow this, and said my gait and carriage would betray me. There alas! he spoke truly, for only the free man can walk erect; the neck of the slave is bent; the schools in which the noble and the freeborn learn grace and beauty of movement are not for him. And so it must remain, the children must be even as the fathers; can the unclean onion-root produce a rose, or the unsightly radish a hyacinth? Constant bondage bows the neck of the slave, but the consciousness of freedom gives dignity to the stature.”

“But what has become of my son?” interrupted Croesus.

“He would not accept my poor offer, and took his seat in the bark, sending a thousand greetings unto thee, O king! I cried after him, ‘Farewell Phanes! I wish thee a prosperous journey, Phanes!’ At that moment a cloud crossed the moon; and from out the thick darkness I heard screams, and cries for help; they did not, however, last long, a shrill whistle followed, then all was silent; and the measured strokes of oars were the only sounds that fell on my ear. I was on the point of returning to relate what I had seen, when the boatman Sebek swam up once more and told as follows: The Egyptians had caused a leak to be made in Phanes’ boat, and at a short distance from land it had filled and began to sink. On the boatmen crying for help, the royal bark, which was following, had come up and taken the supposed Phanes on board, but had prevented the rowers from leaving their benches. They all went down with the leaking boat, the daring Sebek alone excepted. Gyges is on board the royal boat; Phanes has escaped, for that whistle must have been intended for the soldiers in ambush at the garden-gate. I searched the bushes, the soldiers were gone, and I could hear the sound of their voices and weapons on their way back to Sais.”

The guests listened with eager attention to this tale. At its close a mingled feeling of relief and anxiety was felt by all; relief that their favorite companion had escaped so fearful a danger, anxiety for the brave young Lydian who had risked his life to save him. They praised his generosity, congratulated Croesus on possessing such a son, and finally agreed in the conclusion, that, when the crown-prince discovered the error into which his emissaries had fallen, he must certainly release Gyges, and even make him compensation for what he had suffered at their hands.

The friendship already shown by Amasis, and the fear in which he evidently stood of the Persian power, were the thoughts which had power to calm Croesus, who soon left, in order to pass the night at the house of Theopompus, the Milesian merchant. At parting, Aristomachus said: “Salute Gyges in my name; tell him I ask his forgiveness, and hope one day either to enjoy his friendship, or, if that cannot be, to meet him as a fair foe on the field of battle.”

“Who knows what the future may bring?” answered Croesus giving his hand to the Spartan.