in chemistry, denotes any metal calcined to a red or deep yellow colour.

CROCUS Metallorum, an emetic preparation of antimony and nitre. See Chemistry-Index.

CRÈSUS, the last king of Lydia, remarkable for his riches, his conquests, his temporary prosperity, and the sad reverse of his fortune. He subdued the Phrygians, Mysians, Paphlagonians, Thracians, and Carians; amassed together immense riches; and became one of the most powerful and magnificent princes in the world. He drew the learned to his court, and took pleasure in conversing with them. Thales of Miletus, Pittacus of Mitylene, Bias of Priene, Cleobulus of Lindus, and most of the other "wise men," as they are emphatically styled, who lived in that age, as well as Æsop the fabulist, and the elegant Greek poets of the times, were bountifully received at the court of Croesus. There is still on record a memorable conversation between that prince and Solon, which seemed to predict the subsequent events of his reign, and which had a late but important influence on the character and fortune of the Lydian king. Croesus having entertained his Athenian guest, according to the ancient fashion, for several days, before he asked him any questions, ostentatiously showed him the magnificence of his palace, and particularly the riches of his treasury. After all had been displayed to the best advantage, the king complimented Solon upon his curiosity and love of knowledge; and asked him, as a man who had seen many countries, and reflected with much judgment upon what he had seen, whom of all men he deemed most happy? By the particular occasion, as well as the triumphant air with which the question was proposed, the king made it evident that he expected flattery rather than information. But Solon's character had not been enervated by the debilitating air of a court; and he replied with a manly freedom, "Tellus, the Athenian." Croesus, who had scarcely learned to distinguish, even in imagination, between wealth and happiness, inquired with a tone of surprise, why this preference to Tellus? "Tellus," rejoined Solon, "was not conspicuous for his riches or his grandeur, being only a simple citizen of Athens; but he was descended from parents who deserved the first honours of the republic. He was equally fortunate in his children, who obtained universal esteem by their probity, patriotism, and every useful quality of the mind or body: and as to himself, he died fighting gallantly in the service of his country, which his valour rendered victorious in a doubtful combat; on which account the Athenians buried him on the spot where he fell, and distinguished him by every honour which public gratitude can confer on illustrious merit."

Croesus had little encouragement, after this answer, to ask Solon, in the second place, whom, next to Tellus, he deemed most happy? Such, however, is the illusion of vanity, that he still ventured to make this demand; and still, as we are informed by the most circumstantial of historians, entertained hopes of being favourably answered. But Solon replied with the same freedom as before, "The brothers Cleobis and Biton, two youths of Argos, whose strength and address were crowned with repeated victory at the Olympic games; who deserved the affection of their parents, the gratitude of their country, the admiration of Greece; and, who, having ended their lives with peculiar felicity, were commemorated by the most signal monuments of immortal fame." "And is the happiness of a king, then," said Croesus, "so little regarded, O Grecian stranger! that you prefer to it the mean condition of an Athenian or Argive citizen?" The reply of Solon sufficiently justified his reputation for wisdom. "The life of man," said he, "consists of 70 years, which make 25,550 days; an immense number; yet in the longest life, the events of any one day will not be found exactly alike to those of another. The affairs of men are liable to perpetual vicissitudes: the Divinity who presides over our fate is envious of too much prosperity; and all human life, if not condemned to calamity, is at least liable to accident. Whoever has uninterruptedly enjoyed a prosperous tide of success may justly be called fortunate; but he cannot before his death be intitled to the epithet of happy."

The events which soon followed this conversation, prove how little satisfaction is derived from the possession of a throne. Victorious in war, unrivalled in wealth, supreme in power, Croesus felt and acknowledged his unhappiness. The warmest affections of his soul centered in his son Atys, a youth of the most promising hopes, who had often fought and conquered by his side. The strength of his attachment was accompanied with an excess of paternal care, and the anxiety of his waking hours disturbed the tranquillity of his rest. He dreamed that his beloved son was slain by a dart; and the solicitude with which he watched his safety, preventing the youth from his usual occupations and amusements, and thereby rendering him too eager to enjoy them, most probably exposed him to the much-dreaded misfortune. Reluctantly permitted to engage in a party of hunting, the juvenile ardour of Atys, increased by the impatience of long restraint, made him neglect the precautions necessary in that manly amusement. He was slain by a dart aimed at a wild boar of monstrous size, which had long spread terror over the country of the Myrians. The weapon came from the hand of Adraustus, a Phrygian prince and fugitive, whom Croesus had purified from the involuntary guilt of a brother's blood, and long distinguished by peculiar marks of bounty. To the grateful protection of the Phrygian, Croesus recommended, at parting, the safety of his beloved son. A mournful procession of Lydians brought to Sardis the dead body of Atys. The ill-fated murderer followed behind. When they approached the royal presence, Adraustus stepped forward, and intreated Croesus to put him to death; thinking life no longer to be endured after killing, first his own brother, and then the son of his benefactor. But the Lydian king, notwithstanding the excess of his affliction, acknowledged the innocence of Adraustus, and the power of fate. "Stranger, your action is blameless, being committed without design. I know that my son was destined to a premature death." Adraustus, though pardoned by Croesus, could not pardon himself. When the mourners were removed, he privately returned, and perished by his own hand on the tomb of Atys.

Two years Croesus remained disconsolate for the loss of his son; and might have continued to indulge his unavailing affliction during the remainder of life, had not the growing greatness of Persia, which threatened the safety of his dominions, roused him from his dream of misery. (See Lydia.)—He marched against Cyrus with a great army, but was defeated; and retreating to his capital Sardis, was there besieged. The city was taken by assault; and as a Persian soldier was going to kill Croesus, that prince's only surviving son, who had hitherto been dumb, terrified at his danger, cried, Stop, soldier, and touch not Croesus. But though delivered by this extraordinary accident from the blind rage of the soldier, he seemed to be delivered for a harder fate. Dragged into the presence of his conqueror, he was loaded with irons; and the stern, unremitting Cyrus, of whose humane temper of mind we have so beautiful, but so flattering, a picture in the philosophical romance of Xenophon, ordered him, with the melancholy train of his Lydian attendants, to be committed to the flames. An immense pile of wood and other combustibles was erected in the most spacious part of the city. The miserable victims, bound hand and foot, were placed on the top of the pyre. Cyrus, surrounded by his generals, witnessed the dreadful spectacle, either from an abominable principle of superstition if he had bound himself by a vow to sacrifice Croesus as the first fruits of his Lydian victory, or from a motive of curiosity, equally cruel and impious, to try whether Croesus, who had so magnificently adorned the temples and enriched the ministers of the gods, would be helped in time of need by the miraculous interposition of his much honoured protectors. Meanwhile the unfortunate Lydian, oppressed and confounded by the intolerable weight of his present calamity compared with the security and splendor of his former state, recollected his memorable conversation with the Athenian sage, and uttered with a deep groan the name of Solon. Cyrus asked by an interpreter, "Whose name he invoked?" "His," replied Croesus, emboldened by the prospect of certain death, "whose words ought ever to speak to the heart of kings?" This reply not being satisfactory, he was commanded to explain at full length the subject of his thoughts. Accordingly he related the important discourse which had passed between himself and the Athenian, of which it was the great moral, That no man could be called happy till his death.

The words of a dying man are fitted to make a strong impression on the heart. Those of Croesus deeply affected the mind of Cyrus. The Persian considered the speech of Solon as addressed to himself. He repented of his intended cruelty towards an unfortunate prince, who had formerly enjoyed all the pomp of prosperity; and dreading the concealed vengeance that might lurk in the bosom of fate, gave orders that the pyre should be extinguished. But the workmen who had been employed to prepare it, had performed their task with so much care, that the order could not speedily be obeyed. At that moment, Croesus calling on Apollo, whose favourite shrine of Delphi had experienced his generous munificence, and whose perfidious oracle had made him so ungrateful a return; the god, it is said, sent a plentiful shower to extinguish the pyre. This event, which saved the life, and which sufficiently attested the piety of Croesus, strongly recommended him to the credulity of his conqueror. It seemed impossible to pay too much respect to a man who was evidently the favourite of heaven. Cyrus gave orders... that he should be seated by his side, and thenceforth treated as a king; a revolution of fortune equally sudden and unexpected. But the mind of Croesus had undergone a still more important revolution: for, tutored in the useful school of adversity, he learned to think with patience and to act with prudence, to govern his own passions by the dictates of reason, and to repay by wholesome advice the generous behaviour of his Persian master.

The first advantage which he derived from the change in Cyrus's disposition towards him, was the permission of sending his messengers to the temple of Delphian Apollo, whose flattering oracles had encouraged him to wage war with the Persians. Behold," were his messengers instructed to say, "the trophies of our promised success! behold the monuments of the unerring veracity of the god!" The Pythia heard their reproach with a smile of contemptuous indignation, and answered it with that solemn gravity which she was so carefully taught to assume: "The gods themselves cannot avoid their own destiny, much less avert, however they may retard, the determined fates of men. Croesus has suffered, and justly suffered, for the crime of his ancestor Gyges; who, entrusted as chief of the guards, with the person of Candaules, the last king of the race of Hercules, was seduced by an impious woman to murder his master, to defile his bed, and to usurp his royal dignity. For this complicated guilt of Gyges' misfortunes of Croesus have atoned; but know, that through the favour of Apollo, these misfortunes have happened three years later than the fates ordained." The Pythia then proceeded to explain her answers concerning the event of the war against Cyrus, and proved, to the conviction of the Lydians, that her words, if properly understood, portended the destruction, not of the Persian, but of the Lydian empire. Croesus heard with resignation the report of his messengers, and acknowledged the justice of the Delphian oracle, which maintained and increased the lustre of its ancient fame. This fallen monarch survived Cyrus. The manner of his death is not known.