The world has seen many great conquerors, but certainly not more than two or three who have stamped their names so indelibly upon the pages of history and appealed to the imagination of so wide an audience as the hero of Macedonia. The young soldier’s meteoric career, which Appian, the great Roman historian, justly likened to a flash of lightning, had all the elements of dramatic picturesqueness. Alexander was the wonder of the age in which he lived, and no less a wonder to each succeeding generation. A myth soon grew up about his name, but the myth was scarcely more wonderful than the bald facts of his history. The main outlines of that history are familiar to every school-boy, yet it is a curious fact that no contemporary record of the achievements of Alexander has come down to us. We have the account of the Persian Wars written by Herodotus who was born before their close. We have the record of the Peloponnesian War written by Thucydides who participated in it, and by Xenophon who must have known personally many of its greatest actors. Xenophon has also left us a biography of Agesilaus, who so nearly anticipated Alexander in an Asiatic conquest, and, in so doing, he writes not merely as a contemporary but as a personal friend. But the oldest extant writings that give us an account of the deeds of Alexander were not penned until some three centuries after that hero lived and died. It is true that contemporary records of the history of Alexander were written in numbers, but by some curious chance no copy of any one of these records has been preserved.
Fortunately, however, the histories of Alexander that have come down to us are all based more or less on the contemporary records that are lost. There are five of these important histories, all written, perhaps, almost in the same century—the works namely of Diodorus, Justin, Plutarch, Curtius, and Arrian. The most ancient of these is the history of Diodorus, which dates from somewhere about the age of Julius Cæsar; the latest, that of Arrian, was written probably about the time of the reign of Adrian. There are, of course, numerous other classical authors who make reference to Alexander, but these five are the only ones who have given us anything like a complete history of his doings.
Of these histories, by common consent, the most authoritative is that of Arrian.i This work is based upon the writings of two of Alexander’s generals, Ptolemy and Aristobulus. The point of view from which the work is written cannot be better described than in the author’s own words:
“I have admitted into my narrative as strictly authentic all the statements relating to Alexander and Philip which Ptolemy, son of Lagus, and Aristobulus, son of Aristobulus, agree in making; and from those statements which differ I have selected that which appears to me the more credible, and at the same time the more deserving of record. Different authors have given different accounts of Alexander’s actions; and there is no one about whom more have written, or more at variance with each other; but in my opinion the narratives of Ptolemy and Aristobulus are more worthy of credit than the rest—Aristobulus, because he served under King Alexander in his expedition, and Ptolemy’s, not only because he accompanied Alexander in his expedition, but also because, being a king himself, the falsification of the facts would have been more disgraceful to him than to any other man. Moreover they are both more worthy of credit, because they compiled their histories after Alexander’s death, when neither compulsion was used nor reward offered to them to write anything different from what really occurred. Some statements also made by other writers I have incorporated in my narrative, because they seemed to me worthy of mention and not altogether improbable; but I have given them merely as reports of Alexander’s proceedings. And if any man wonders why, after so many other men have written of Alexander, the compilation of this history came into my mind, after perusing the narratives of all the rest, let him read this of mine, and then wonder—if he can.”
When one reflects on the library of volumes that have been written in recent times on Alexander and his doings, it is curious to consider how meagre are the original materials on which all this elaboration is based. The entire accounts of Diodorus, Justin, Plutarch, Curtius, and Arrian if printed together in full would make but a comparatively small volume. Nor can it be said that any recent discoveries have greatly altered the point of view from which the history of Alexander is to be regarded, or largely added to our knowledge of the subject. The reader who has mastered these five classical authorities has learned practically all that is specifically known regarding the deeds of Alexander, and every modern historian who treats of the subject must bear these original authorities constantly in mind.a
Before taking up Alexander’s deeds in detail, it may be well to quote, by way of transition from father to son, the epigrammatic comparison made by Justin, between Philip and Alexander, using Brown’s translation of 1712:
PHILIP AND ALEXANDER COMPARED BY JUSTIN [356-336 b.c.]
“Philip was killed in the Forty-Seventh Year of his Age, after he had Reigned Twenty-Five Years. He had a Son by an Actress of Larissa, whose Name was Aridæus, who reign’d after Alexander. He had, as ’tis usual with Princes, several other Sons by several Wives, some of whom died a Natural, and others fell by a violent Death. He was a Prince that took more Delight in Arms than in Feasting. His greatest Riches consisted in his Military Stores. He was more dexterous at getting Money than at keeping of it, which was the Reason that he was everlastingly Poor and Necessitous, amidst all his Rapines and Plunders. He was naturally inclined neither to Mercy nor Pity, but used both indifferently, as his Affairs required.
“He thought no Way dishonourable to overcome an Enemy. In his Discourse he was Free and Courteous, but always designing. He would promise infinitely more than he intended to perform. He was equally excellent at Railery and serious Discourse. He measured Friendship not by Fidelity, but the Advantages it brought. His principal Talents were to pretend Love where he hated most, to excite Animosities and Distrusts between Friends, and at the same time to curry Favour with both. Among his other Qualities, Eloquence was none of the least, his Conversation was sprightly and subtle and neither did the Easiness of it exclude its Elegance, nor its Elegance Adulterate the Beauty of its Easiness.
“He was succeeded by his Son Alexander, who surpassed his Father both in his Virtues and his Vices. Their Methods of Conquering were extremely different. The Son carried on his Wars by open Force, the Father by Artifice and Stratagem. One loved to trick an Enemy underhand, the Other to defeat them gallantly in the Field by Bravery. One was more subtle in Council, the Other more Magnificent in his Temper.
“The Father could dissemble, and for the most part overcome his Anger. The Son, when he was thoroughly inflamed, neither knew how to allay, nor Moderate his Revenge. Both of them were over-greedy of Wine, but the Vices of their Drunkenness were different. The Father would run from an Entertainment to go and engage with an Enemy and rashly expose himself to Danger. The Son quarrelled with his friends in his Wine, and treated them like Enemies. Thus we find that Philip has frequently returned from Battels Wounded, and Alexander came from a Banquet stained with the Blood of his Friends. One would rule in Conjunction with his Friends, the Other would reign over them. The Father rather chose to make himself beloved, the Son to be fear’d. Both of ’em were equal Encouragers and Lovers of Learning. The Father had more Cunning, the Son more Honour. Philip was more moderate in his Conversation, Alexander in his Actions, which he show’d by being more Merciful and Generous to the Conquer’d. The Father loved Frugality, the Son was more inclined to Luxury. With these Qualifications the Father laid a Foundation for the Conquest of the World, which the Son most Gloriously accomplished.”d
ALEXANDER’S YOUTH ACCORDING TO QUINTUS CURTIUS
The kings of Macedon derived their pedigree from Hercules; and Olympias, Alexander’s mother, reckoned the origin of her family from Achilles. From his very infancy he wanted neither allurements or examples to excite him in the pursuit of glory, nor masters to teach him virtue, nor exercise to accustom him to it. For his father, Philip, did by his continual wars raise the reputation of the Macedonians, who, till then were accounted despicable, and by his conquest of Greece, made them formidable everywhere. In fine, he not only laid the foundations of the great things which were done after his death, but even a little before his decease, having resolved to carry the war into Persia, he had levied men, gathered provisions, raised money, and, in short, had an army ready for that expedition; and had actually opened a passage into Asia, by the means of Parmenion.
But in this very juncture he was taken away, as if to leave to his son so great forces to carry on the war, and reap the full glory of it, when it was finished; which seems to have been the contrivance of fortune, who always yielded entire obedience to Alexander alone. This prince was so much in the admiration of all men, not only after he had done so great things, but even at his first setting out, that it was a question whether it were not more reasonable to ascribe the divine original of so great a man immediately to Jupiter himself, rather than mediately to the same god by the Æacidæ and Hercules.
When he went himself to visit the temple of Ammon in Libya, nothing less would content him than to be called his son, as we shall shew in the sequel. Moreover, it was the opinion of many that Alexander was the offspring of a serpent which had been seen in his mother’s bed-chamber, and into which Jupiter had transformed himself; that the credit of his divine pedigree was advanced by dreams and prophesies; and that when Philip sent to Delphi to consult about it, he was admonished by the oracle, to pay the greatest reverence to Ammon. On the other hand, there are those who affirm, “That all this is mere fiction; and that there was reason to suspect Alexander’s mother was guilty of adultery: for that Nectanebus, king of Egypt, who was driven from his kingdom, did not go to Ethiopia, as was commonly believed, but went to Macedonia, in hopes of receiving succours from Philip against the power of the Persians. That he deceived Olympias by the force of magical enchantments, and defiled his landlord’s bed. That from that time Philip had a jealousy of her, and that it afterwards appeared this was the chief cause of their divorce. That the very day that Philip brought Cleopatra into his house, Attalus, his wife’s uncle, took the liberty to reproach Alexander with the baseness of his birth, while the king himself disowned him for his son. In fine, that the constant rumour of Olympias’ adultery was entertained not only in that part of the world, but even among the nations which he conquered. That the fiction of the serpent was derived from ancient fables, on purpose to conceal the ignominy of that princess. That the Messenians had formerly given out the same story concerning Aristomenes, and the Sicyonians concerning Aristodemus.”
In reality the same report was spread abroad concerning Scipio, who was the first that ruined Carthage; and the birth of Augustus was in like manner thought to have had something divine in it. For as to Romulus, the founder of Rome, there is no occasion to say anything of him; since there is no nation so contemptible, but derives its origin either from some god, or the offspring of a god. After all, the flight of Nectanebus does not agree with those times; for Alexander was six years of age, when that prince was vanquished by Ochus, and lost his kingdom and inheritance; but for all this, the tale which is reported of Jupiter, is not the less likely to be false. It is affirmed, that Olympias herself, having nothing to fear after her husband’s death, laughed at the vanity of her son, who would needs have it believed that he was sprung from Jupiter; and begged him in a letter, “not to expose her to Juno’s indignation, seeing that she had been guilty of nothing that deserved that punishment.” However, before that time, she is thought to have been the person that took the most pains to gain credit to this fable, and is said to have admonished Alexander upon his expedition into Asia, “To be mindful of his origin, and do nothing that was unworthy of so great a father.”
But it is generally agreed, that between the conception and birth of that prince, it was signified both by prodigies and divers presages, how considerable a person should be born. Philip saw in his sleep the womb of Olympias sealed up with a ring, on which the picture of a lion was engraved; the memory whereof was preserved by the city of Alexandria in Egypt, which was for a long time called Leontopolis. Aristander, the ablest diviner of that time, who afterwards accompanied Alexander, and was his chief priest, interpreted the dream, and said it signified the magnanimity and courage of the infant. The same night that Olympias was brought to bed, the temple of Diana in Ephesus, the most famous of all Asia, was burnt to ashes. This was done by a profligate villain, who being apprehended and put to the torture, confessed he had no other view in doing it, but to preserve his memory by some great and memorable act of impiety. Wherefore the Magi, who were then at Ephesus, not reckoning so great a misfortune from the loss of the temple alone, but looking upon it as a presage of greater destruction, filled the whole city with mournful exclamations; “That there was a torch kindled somewhere, which, on the like account, and from the same motive, should one day consume all the East.”
Philip being blessed with a son, of whom so many happy omens made him conceive the highest hopes, turned all his thoughts towards his education. For being a wise man, and a lover of his country, he easily perceived that all his endeavours would be to no purpose, if he should leave an ignorant and slothful prince behind him, to govern Macedonia, while things were in an unsettled state everywhere: and that his glory could not be long-lived, if the great things he had begun should be lost and ruined by the weakness or negligence of a successor. Among his letters, that discreet and elegant one which he wrote to Aristotle, who was then at Athens with Plato, is yet extant, and is conceived in words much to this purpose:
“Philip to Aristotle wisheth Health.
“I am to acquaint you, that a son is born to me; nor do I thank the gods so much for his birth, as for his being born in your time. I hope that when he shall have been educated and instructed by you, he shall be worthy of us, and fit to succeed to so great a kingdom. For I think it much better to be without children, than to beget them for a punishment, and educate them to the shame and dishonour of their ancestors.”
Nor was Philip mistaken; for having been long under the direction of Aristotle, the effect was, that the instructions he received from that great master, laid a foundation for, and enabled him to perform all the great exploits which he executed from that time.
When he grew up, there appeared a perfect symmetry in his members, his joints were strong and firm; and being but of a middle stature, he was really stronger than he appeared to be. His skin was white, only his cheeks and his breast were dyed with an agreeable red; his hair was yellow, and went into a gentle curl; his nose was aquiline, and his eyes of different colours: for his left eye is said to have been blue, and his right very black. There was a certain secret virtue in them; insomuch that nobody could look on his countenance without veneration and fear. He could run with wonderful swiftness, which he often practised, even when he was king, as esteeming it of great use in expeditions; and he was often seen to run for a prize with the swiftest persons about him. He bore fatigue with a patience and firmness that even passes belief; and by this one virtue he oftentimes saved both himself and his armies in the greatest extremities. By frequent exercises, and a very warm constitution, he did so purge off any bad humours which commonly lodge under the skin, that not only his breath, but also what he perspired through the pores of his body were sweet, and his very clothes had a fragrant smell; and this was the cause, as some think, why he was so much inclined to wine and passion. Pictures and statues of him are yet to be seen, which were the performances of the best artists. For lest the comeliness of his face should suffer any thing from the unskilfulness of vulgar sculptors or painters, he strictly forbade any to draw his picture without his order, and threatened to punish any one that should disobey it. In consequence whereof, though there was abundance of good workmen, yet Apelles was the only person who had his consent to draw his picture; Pyrgoteles to grave him on precious stones, and Lysippus and Polyclitus to represent him in medals.
His governor Leonidas is said to have walked too fast, which Alexander learnt of him; and never was able to help it afterwards by all his endeavours. I am not ignorant that very much is owing to education, but I am inclined to impute this rather to the temper of that young prince, than to his accustoming himself to it; for it was impossible for one of his ardour and impetuosity of spirit, not to have the motions of his body answerable to it. And this hastiness of his was so far from being accounted an imperfection by his successors, that they studiously affected it, and imitated him therein; as they did in his wry neck, which leaned to his left shoulder, in his piercing look and high voice, being incapable to copy the virtues of his mind. In reality, there were many of them whose long lives had scarce anything in them that deserved to be compared to his childhood. Nor did he ever say or act anything that was mean or base, but all his words and actions were equal to, or even surpassed, his fortune. For though he was most ambitious of praise, yet he did not affect to draw it indifferently from every thing, but would have it arise from things that were most praiseworthy; being sensible that the praise which arises from mean actions is inglorious and dishonourable, and that that victory which is gained over the meanest enemy, is so much the more noble and illustrious. Therefore when some persons told him, “that seeing he was an excellent runner, he ought to list himself among those who were to contend for the prize at the Olympic games, after the example of a king of his name; and that thereby he should acquire a great fame all over Greece”: he answered, “I would certainly do so, if I were to run against kings.”
As often as Philip obtained any signal victory, or reduced any rich and strong place, he could not conceal his grief, amidst the rejoicing of others; and he was heard to complain amongst boys of his own age, “that his father would leave nothing for him and them to do when they came to be men.” For he looked upon every accession of power and riches to be a diminution to his glory, and had a stronger passion for honour than for wealth. He was naturally disposed to sleep but little, and increased his watchfulness by art. If anything happened to him that required serious thought, he put his arm out of the bed, holding a silver ball in his hand, which by its fall into a basin might make a noise, and so disperse that heaviness which was inclining him to slumber. From his very infancy he loved to worship the gods splendidly; and one day as they were sacrificing, he flung so much incense into the fire, that Leonidas, who was a severe and parsimonious man, not being able to bear that profusion, cried out, “You may burn incense in this manner when you conquer the countries where it grows.” Remembering this saying afterwards, when he settled the affairs of Arabia, which produces incense, he sent Leonidas a vast quantity of this perfume, ordering him withal, “to be more liberal for the future, in paying honour to the gods, since he was now convinced that they did plentifully repay the gifts that had been cheerfully made them.”
Aristotle as His Teacher
That he understood the more sublime sciences, is evident from his letter to Aristotle, wherein he complains, “That he had profaned their dignity by divulging their principles.” Upon which, Aristotle excused himself by answering, “That those books were published in such a manner, as that they might be reckoned not published; for that no body would be able to understand the meaning of them, but such as had already been instructed in the principles which they contained.” When Alexander demanded his books of rhetoric, he strictly forbade him to let them come to the hands of any other; for he was no less desirous to excel others in arts and sciences, than in power and greatness; nor could he endure that men of the lowest rank should share that glory with him. Besides, it appears from his letters that he studied physic under one Aristotle, who was the son of a physician, of the race of Æsculapius. But he studied that part of philosophy so well, which teaches a man to command both himself and others, that he is thought to have undertaken the supervision of that vast weight and power of the Persian empire, rather by his magnanimity, prudence, temperance, and fortitude, than by his arms and riches. He frankly owned, “That he owed more to Aristotle than to Philip; for that he was indebted to the one for his life; to the other for that life’s being formed upon the principles of honour and virtue.” Nevertheless, it has been believed by some, not without ground, that his mind, which was so fired with ambition, was yet more inflamed by the too great value which Aristotle set upon honour and glory, which he placed in the rank of things that may be called goods; so that he not only multiplied wars upon wars, in order to extend his dominions, but would needs be looked upon as a god.
Of all the monuments of antiquity, he had the greatest esteem for Homer, who, he thought, was the only person that had perfectly described that wisdom by which empires subsist; and such a passion for him, that he was called Homer’s Lover. He was wont to carry his books always along with him; and even when he went to bed, he put them and his sword under his pillow, calling them “his military viaticum, and the elements of warlike virtue.” He esteemed Achilles to have been happy in finding so great a man to celebrate his virtues.
Having found a most curious casket, both for matter and workmanship, amongst the plunder of Damascus, and his friends having asked him “What use it was most proper for?” he answered, “We will dedicate it to Homer, since it is but reasonable that the most precious monument of human wit should be preserved in the finest piece of workmanship.” From hence the most correct edition of that poet, which Alexander was at much pains to get, was called the “edition of the casket”; because in that casket the Persians had used to keep odours and perfumes. One day as a certain messenger of good news ran towards him, in all haste stretching out his right hand, with the highest marks of joy on his countenance; “What news can you tell me,” says he, “that’s worthy of so much joy, unless that Homer is alive again?” He was then arrived to such a degree of happiness, that he thought there wanted nothing to complete his glory, but one capable to trumpet his praise. By frequent reading of him, he had got almost all by heart; so that no person could quote him more readily or familiarly, or judge of him more justly.
Bucephalus
He showed an extraordinary courage and dexterity, to the great astonishment of his father and others, in managing the horse Bucephalus, which name was given him from his being marked with the figure of an ox’s head. Thessaly was very much famed at that time for fine horses, and great numbers of them were bred in that country, but none of them was to be compared to Bucephalus either for mettle or beautifulness; for which reason Philonicus a Pharsalian, thinking him worthy of the greatest prince in those parts, brought him to Philip, and proposed to sell him for sixteen talents. But when they came to try his speed and management, by riding him out into the fields, there was none of the king’s friends or attendants that durst venture to manage him; for he rose upon them, and frightened all that essayed to mount him, by his fierceness: so that he was now looked upon as unmanageable and useless, upon the account of his wildness: at which Alexander sighing said, “What a fine horse those people lose through their ignorance and cowardice.” After having repeated these words over and over, his father chid him “for finding fault with horsemen that were both older and more skilful than himself, as if he could manage that horse better than they.” To which he answered, “I will manage him better than they, father, if you will give me leave.” Upon this, the father asked him, “What he would forfeit if he could not execute what he had undertaken?” “I will forfeit the price of the horse,” replied he. At this every body smiled, and agreed, “That if he won, his father should buy the horse for him; but if he lost, he should lay down the money himself.” Then Alexander, taking the horse by the bridle, turned him directly to the sun, that so he might not see his shadow; for he had observed, that this frightened him, and made him more untractable. Finding his fury not much abated notwithstanding this, he stroked his mane, laid his cloak aside gently, and jumped upon him at once, though he was foaming with rage. Then Bucephalus, that was not used to obey, began to fling with his heels, and throw about his head, and very obstinately refuse to be guided by the bridle; then he essayed to get loose, and run away full speed. He was then in a spacious plain that was fit for riding in: wherefore Alexander, giving him the rein, and setting his spurs to his sides, rode shouting with all the vigour and fury imaginable. And after he had traversed a vast space of ground, till he was weary, and willing to stop, he spurred him on till such time as his mettle was exhausted, and he became tame; after which he brought him back very gentle and tractable. When Alexander alighted, his father embraced him with tears of joy, and kissing him, said, “He must seek out a larger empire for himself, for that the kingdom of Macedon was too small for so vast a spirit.” Afterwards Bucephalus continued the same fierceness towards others, while he obeyed Alexander alone with a wonderful submission; and after he had been his companion in many labours and dangers, he was at last killed in a battle against Porus.e
ALEXANDER’S FIRST DEEDS
From the remotest ages of Pelasgian antiquity down to the time of the Roman empire, the holy island of Samothrace, the seat of an awfully mysterious worship, was accounted equal to Delphi in sanctity. Here it is said Philip first saw Olympias, when they partook at the same time in the Cabirian mysteries, and resolved to seek her hand. Olympias loved the fanatical orgies celebrated by the Thracian and Macedonian women in honour of their Dionysus; and is even said to have introduced some of the symbols of this frantic worship,—the huge tame snakes, which the Bacchanals wreathed round their necks and arms,—into her husband’s palace. It is a stroke which agrees well with the other features of her wild, impetuous character. Who can estimate the degree in which this irritable, uncontrollable nature may have contributed one element towards that combination of ardent enthusiasm with the soberest forethought which distinguishes Alexander, perhaps above every man that ever filled a like station?
The anecdotes related of Alexander’s boyhood are chiefly remarkable as indicating what may be fitly called a kingly spirit, which not only felt conscious that it was born to command, and was impatient of all opposition to its will, but also studied how it might subject all things and persons around it to its own higher purposes. This inborn royalty of soul could hardly have failed to find its way to fame, had it even been originally lodged in an obscure corner. But the prince, who was destined to effect so great a change in the state of the world, was to be committed to the care of the man whose spirit was not less active and ambitious, who also in the range of his intellectual conquests had never been equalled, and who founded a much more lasting empire in the sphere of thought. Never, before or since, have two persons so great in the historical sense of the word, been brought together—above all in the same relation—as Alexander and Aristotle.
Alexander was but thirteen years old when he became the philosopher’s pupil. This relation appears to have subsisted between them for no more than three successive years. Alexander was only sixteen when Philip set out on his expedition to Thrace, from which he only returned in the autumn of 339, and he was entrusted with the regency of the kingdom—probably under the direction of a council—during his father’s absence. He was then of course occupied with affairs of state; and in the course of this time, a revolt of one of the conquered tribes, probably on the Illyrian frontier, afforded an occasion for his first essay in the art of war. He reduced the insurgents, took their chief city, expelled its inhabitants, and planted a new colony there, to which he gave the name of Alexandropolis. In the interval between the battle of Chæronea and his father’s death, he was engaged in transactions quite alien from philosophical or literary pursuits. It is very doubtful whether he saw Aristotle again before he came to the throne. Their personal intercourse must at least have been confined to occasional interviews.
It is pleasing to find it recorded that still he wrote a book on the office of a king expressly for Alexander. Nevertheless we have unquestionable proof that even on this head the force of nature was stronger than that of education. Aristotle’s national prejudices led him into extravagant notions as to the superiority of the Hellenic race over the rest of mankind: as if the distinction between Greek and barbarian was nearly the same as between man and brute, person and thing: hence slavery appeared to him not a result of injustice and cruelty, but an unalterable law of nature, a relation necessary to the welfare of society.
Hence too he deduced a practical maxim, which he endeavoured to inculcate upon the future conqueror of Asia, that he should treat the Greeks as his subjects, the barbarians as his slaves. The advice was contrary to Alexander’s views and sentiments: it did not suit the position which his consciousness of his own destiny led him to assume. He acted, we know, on a directly opposite principle.
We have at least reason to believe that Alexander, though he was but twenty years old at his father’s death, had learned, thought, seen, and done more to fit him for the place he was to fill, than many sovereigns in the full maturity of their age and experience. Like his father, he found himself, on his accession to the throne, in a situation which called forth all the powers of his mind and all the energies of his character. Macedonia, though nominally at peace with all its European neighbours, was surrounded by enemies, who might be expected eagerly to seize the opportunity, which seemed to offer itself now that the crown had devolved on a stripling, to shake off a yoke which they had endured with ill-disguised impatience. In the kingdom itself there were powerful families, which had not forgotten the times when they aspired to independence, if not to the possession of the throne. Amyntas, too, the son of Perdiccas, was still living, and might be tempted to assert his claim. It was known that the court of Persia was on the watch.
The young king’s first object was to secure himself at home: the next to overawe his hostile neighbours, and to extort from them such an acknowledgment of his superiority, as would place him in the position which his father was occupying at the time of his death. In Macedonia, though there might be some ambitious and disaffected nobles, the mass of the people both recognised his title and were attached to his person. Amyntas, son of Perdiccas, was put to death on a charge of a plot against Alexander’s life. After the last honours had been paid to his father, the king showed himself in a general assembly of his people, and declared his intention of prosecuting his predecessor’s undertakings with like vigour, and, it is said, granted a general immunity from all burdens except military service.
The news of Philip’s death had excited a general ferment throughout Greece. The gloomy prospect which, since the battle of Chæronea, must have saddened so many hearts—the thought that the flower of the Grecian youth were henceforth to shed their blood for the execution of projects which threatened their country with perpetual subjection—was suddenly exchanged for the liveliest hopes of deliverance from the foreigner’s power. In all the principal states language was heard, and preparations were seen, denoting a disposition to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity. Ambracia expelled the Macedonian garrison, and re-established its democratical institutions. The Acarnanian exiles who had taken refuge in Ætolia prepared to return, and the Ætolians in their congress voted succours to reinstate them. Athens took the lead in these movements, and indeed seems to have been the centre from which they proceeded.
DEMOSTHENES RIDICULES ALEXANDER [336 b.c.]
Among the Athenian envoys who had been sent to congratulate Philip was Charidemus; being at Ægæ at the time of Philip’s death, he lost no time in despatching a courier, who was directed to carry the news to Demosthenes before he communicated it to any one else. It happened that the orator was at this juncture mourning the loss of an only daughter, who had died but seven days before; but his private sorrow gave way to public cares. He immediately laid aside his weeds, came out dressed in white, with a festive wreath on his head, and a joyful countenance, and was seen performing a solemn sacrifice at one of the public altars. In order to give greater effect to the momentous tidings, the orator appears to have resorted to a stratagem which proves that he knew his countrymen to be still superstitious, and credulous. He appeared before the council of Five Hundred, and declared that it had been revealed to him in a dream by Zeus and Athene, that some great good was about to happen to the commonwealth. Messengers soon after arrived with the news which fulfilled the divine announcement. It was apparently the object of Demosthenes, by this artifice, to impress the people with his own view of the change which Philip’s death had made in the situation and prospects of Athens. It was at least as harmless an imposture as was ever practised; and, if fraud could ever be pious, might deserve that epithet.[19] He now moved moreover that religious honours should be decreed to the memory of Pausanias.
This conduct of Demosthenes was strongly censured by his contemporaries on various grounds; though not on those which render it most repugnant to the maxims and feelings of civilised society in modern times. Yet we know that even under the better light which we enjoy, not only the massacre of the Huguenots was celebrated with public rejoicings and thanksgivings in the capital of Christian Europe, but the assassination of the prince of Orange, and that of Henry III of France, were openly applauded, and Balthasar Gérard and Clément treated as heroes.
Phocion objected to the proposed demonstrations of joy on two accounts: first, because such exultation over an enemy’s death was dastardly, and then, because the force which had won the day at Chæronea had only been diminished by the loss of a single life. That the loss which Macedonia had sustained by Philip’s death, was only to be reckoned as that of a single soldier, was manifestly false; and the best excuse that can be offered for Demosthenes is, that he wished to place the event in a different light—one which he might well believe to be the true one. We cannot indeed be sure that he entertained so low an opinion of Alexander’s abilities as he thought it expedient to profess; though it appears that the impression made on him by the young prince when he saw him at his father’s court was not favourable, and on his return from his embassy he turned his boyish performance into ridicule. It was true that Alexander had at least acted the part of a man better than himself at Chæronea; but his real character, and the promise of greatness which he held out, could not yet be known at Athens. Perhaps some report of his multifarious studies and attainments had been heard there, which afforded a handle for Demosthenes to compare him with Margites, the hero of a burlesque poem attributed to Homer, who knew many things, but none well; and the orator now ventured to assure the Athenians, that they had nothing to fear from the young king, who would never stir from Macedonia, but would remain at Pella, dividing his time between his peaceful studies and the inspection of victims, which would never permit him to undertake any dangerous expedition.
There were beside engines which the orator was able to set at work against him, which were known only to himself, and which he was obliged to keep secret, but which might reasonably strengthen his confidence. He was in correspondence with the Persian court, and had, it seems, already received sums of money from it to be distributed at his discretion for the purpose of thwarting Philip’s enterprise against Asia. The conduct of Demosthenes in this transaction—if we consider that he was carrying on a clandestine negotiation with a foreign state against which his own had declared war, to injure a prince who was the ally of Athens—cannot be vindicated on the principles which regulate the intercourse of civilised nations in modern times. But how little were such scruples heeded when Napoleon’s disasters opened a prospect for restoring the independence of Germany!
The people, however, seem to have retained too lively a recollection of the consternation which had followed the battle of Chæronea, to pledge themselves hastily to a renewal of the contest with Macedonia. The language of Æschines inclines us to believe that they did not adopt the motion of Demosthenes with respect to Pausanias. But he prevailed on them to send envoys to many of the Greek states, with secret instructions. The Persian gold, or the promise of subsidies, may have overcome many obstacles. There was another quarter in which the Athenian emissaries might still more safely reckon on a friendly reception. Attalus, Alexander’s personal enemy, was commanding a body of troops in Asia. A negotiation was opened with him by means of a letter from Demosthenes, and nothing probably but want of time prevented its success.
ALEXANDER DASHES THROUGH GREECE [336-335 b.c.]
But all these plans and preparations were disconcerted and suppressed by the rapidity of Alexander’s movements. It seems as if his elder counsellors, who had been long used to Philip’s cautious policy, advised him to leave the Greeks for the present to themselves, and not to make any attempt to force them to obedience, until he had established a good understanding with the barbarian tribes on his northern frontier, which after Philip’s death had begun to assume a threatening aspect. Alexander, however, saw that, if he should adopt such a course, the work of his father’s reign might be undone in a few months: he saw that his presence was immediately necessary in Greece, and he set his forces in motion without delay. In his passage through Thessaly, he endeavoured to conciliate the ruling families by promises. All the concessions that had been made to Philip were renewed to him: their revenues and troops were placed at his disposal. At Thermopylæ he assembled the Amphictyonic council, perhaps before the ordinary time of the autumnal meeting with a view to secure the adherence of the northern tribes which had votes in it; and from them it seems he received the title [Leader of the Greeks] which had been conferred on his father in the Sacred War. He then advanced by rapid marches to Thebes, where, as no preparations had yet been made to execute the resolution which had been precipitately adopted, his presence awed the disaffected into entire submission.
His approach produced a like effect at Athens. The people hastened to appease him by an embassy, which they sent to apologise for their late proceedings, and to offer him all the honours they had conferred on Philip. Demosthenes himself was appointed one of the envoys—perhaps through the intrigues of his adversaries; and he even proceeded as far as Cithæron, on his way to the Macedonian camp. We do not know whether it was his own reflections on the dangers of his mission, or some hints which he received as to Alexander’s intentions, that induced him to find some excuse for turning back. The rest of the ambassadors, however, found the king ready to accept their excuses and promises, perhaps were led to believe that he had never suspected the commonwealth of any hostile designs. He despatched a trusty officer, named Hecatæus, over to Asia, with orders either to arrest Attalus and convey him to Macedonia, or to put him to death. It seems that Attalus had so won the affections of his troops, that Hecatæus thought it safest to have him secretly killed.
Alexander had sent envoys before him to summon a fresh congress at Corinth. He found this assembly as obsequious as that which had been called by his father; and was invested by it with the same title and authority for the prosecution of the war with Persia, as had been bestowed on Philip. Sparta alone either refused to send deputies to the congress, or instructed them to disavow its proceedings. She had been used—such was still her language—herself to take the lead among the Greeks, and would not resign her hereditary rank to another. Alexander perhaps smiled at these pretensions of a state which was hardly able to protect itself, but did not think it worth while to put its resolution to the test, by an invasion of its territory. So too the revolt of Ambracia did not appear to him important enough to detain him so long as would have been necessary to crush it. He even condescended to assure the Ambracians that they had only forestalled his intentions: that he should of his own accord have restored their democratical institutions. It was a concession which his commanding posture enabled him to make with dignity, and therefore without danger. Having thus in the course of a few weeks settled the affairs of Greece, he returned to Macedonia, with the hope that in the following spring he might be able to embark for Asia.
ALEXANDER WINNOWS THE NORTH
But when the season for military operations drew near in 335, reports were heard of movements among the Thracian tribes and the Triballians, which seemed to render it necessary, for the security of his kingdom during his absence, that he should spread the terror of his arms in that quarter, before he began an expedition which would carry him so far away from it. Early in the spring Alexander set out on his march toward the Danube. A small squadron of ships of war was ordered to be fitted out at Byzantium, and to sail up the river to meet the army. In ten days, having crossed the Hebrus at Philippopolis, it reached the foot of the Balkan. Here the Thracians had collected their forces to guard the defiles, and were seen entrenched behind their wagons on the summit of the pass. As the road which led up to it was extremely steep, they had formed the plan of rolling their wagons down on the enemy as they advanced, and then falling on their broken ranks. Alexander perceived the object of their preparations, and provided against the danger. The heavy infantry were ordered, where the ground permitted, to open their files and make way for the wagons: where this was not practicable, to throw themselves forward on the ground, and link their shields together over their heads, so that the descending masses might bound over them. The shock came and passed in a few moments, leaving the men unhurt; they closed their ranks, and rose from the ground with heightened courage. The enemy were soon dislodged from their position by a skilful and vigorous charge, leaving fifteen hundred slain: the fugitives easily escaped; the camp, in which were their wives and children, fell into the hands of the victors.
Having crossed the mountains without further interruption, Alexander now resumed his march, and in three days reached the right bank of the Danube, where he found the galleys which he expected from Byzantium. Under favour of night they crossed over unmolested, and landed in fields of standing corn. This the phalanx levelled, as it marched through, with its spears, the cavalry following until they reached the open ground, where the enemy, astonished and dismayed by their unexpected appearance, did not even wait for the first charge of the horse, but took refuge in their town which lay but a few miles off. Even this—for it was poorly fortified—they abandoned at Alexander’s approach, and taking as many as they could of the women and children on their horses, retreated into the wilderness. The town was sacked and razed to the ground, and Alexander having sacrificed on the right bank of the Danube to the gods who had granted him a safe passage, returned to his camp on the other side. Here he received embassies, with submissive or at least pacific overtures, from Syrmus, and from many of the independent nations bordering on the river. His chief object was attained in the proof thus afforded of the terror inspired by his arms.
He now turned his march westward, to reach the borders of Illyria, through the country of the Agrianians and Pæonians, on the western side of the mountains which contain the springs of the Hebrus and the Nestus. The king however was enabled to pursue his march without obstruction up the valley of the Erigon, towards the fortress of Pelium. It stood on high ground in the midst of lofty wooded hills, which were also guarded by Illyrian troops, so as to command all the approaches of the place; and the barbarians had sought an additional safeguard against the assaults of the Macedonians, in a sacrifice, which they celebrated on the hill tops, of three boys, three girls, and as many black rams. Yet all these precautions proved fruitless; and Alexander, after he made himself master of the adjacent hills—where he found the victims of those horrid rites—was proceeding to invest Pelium itself, when the arrival of Glaucias with a numerous army compelled him to retire, that he might provide for his own safety. We shall not dwell on the evolutions by which he extricated himself from a most perilous position. It is sufficient to mention that he first penetrated through a difficult defile, and crossed a river in the presence of an enemy greatly superior in numbers; and three days afterwards, having suddenly returned, fell upon the allies, whose camp was carelessly guarded, in the night, and broke up their host. Glaucias fled towards his home, and was pursued by Alexander with great slaughter as far as the mountains which protected his territories. Clitus at first took shelter in Pelium; but soon despairing of his own resources, set fire to the fortress, and retreated into the dominions of Glaucias.
THE REVOLT OF THEBES [335 b.c.]
The accounts which reached Greece of Alexander’s operations in these wild and distant regions, were, it may be supposed, very imperfect and confused; and at length, during an interval in which no news was heard of him, a report of his death sprang up, or was studiously set afloat. The report seems to have encouraged a party of Theban exiles to enter the city by night, and attempt a revolution. They began in an unhappy spirit with the massacre of two officers of the Macedonian garrison. They then summoned an assembly, and prevailed on the people to rise in open insurrection, and lay siege to the Cadmea. The citizens who were still in exile were recalled, the slaves enfranchised, the aliens won by new privileges. Demosthenes furnished them with a subsidy which enabled them to procure arms, and induced the Athenians to enter into an alliance with them, and emboldened the people to decree an expedition in aid of the Thebans. This decree, however, was not carried into effect. Elis, too, openly espoused the cause of the Thebans so far as even to send their forces as far as the isthmus, where they were joined by those of some Arcadian states. But here their generals were induced to halt, by the tidings which reached them of Alexander’s return.
He was still at Pelium when he heard of the revolt of Thebes. He knew that unless it was crushed in time it would probably spread, and he was anxious about the garrison of the Cadmea. He therefore set out immediately for Bœotia. In seven days, having traversed the upper provinces of Macedonia and crossed the Cambunian range towards its junction with Pindus, he reached Pelinna in Thessaly. Six days more brought him into Bœotia. So rapid were his movements that, before the Thebans had heard that he had passed Thermopylæ, he had arrived at Onchestus. The authors of the insurrection would not at first listen to the news of his approach; they gave out that it was Antipater who commanded the Macedonian army: and then that Alexander, the son of Æropus, had been taken for his royal namesake. But when the truth was ascertained, they found the people still willing to persevere in the struggle which had now become so hopeless.
Alexander, on the other hand, wishing to give them time for better counsels, now moved slowly against the city; and even when he had encamped near the foot of the Cadmea, which they had encompassed with a double line of circumvallation, waited some time for proposals of peace, which he was ready to grant on very lenient terms. There was a strong party within which was willing to submit to his pleasure, and urged the people to cast themselves on his mercy: but the leaders of the revolt, who could expect none for themselves, resisted every such motion; and as beside their personal influence they filled most places in the government, they unhappily prevailed. It was their object to draw matters to extremities. When Alexander sent to demand Phœnix and Prothytas, two of their chiefs, they demanded Philotas and Antipater in return; and when he proclaimed an offer of pardon to all who should surrender themselves to him and share the common peace, they made a counter proclamation from the top of a tower, inviting all who desired the independence of Greece to take part with them against the tyrant. These insults, and especially the animosity and distrust which they implied, put an end to all thoughts of peace, and Alexander reluctantly prepared for an assault.
The fate of Thebes seems after all to have been decided more by accident than by design. Perdiccas, who was stationed with his division in front of the camp, not far from the Theban entrenchments, without waiting for the signal, began the attack, and forced his way into the space between the enemy’s lines, and was followed by Amyntas son of Andromenes, who commanded the next division. Alexander was thus induced to bring up the rest of his forces. Yet at first he only sent in some light troops to the support of the two divisions which were engaged with the enemy. When however Perdiccas had fallen, severely wounded, as he led his men within the second line of entrenchments, and the Thebans, who at first had given way, rallied and in their turn put the Macedonians to flight, he himself advanced to the scene of combat with the phalanx, and fell upon them in the midst of the disorder caused by the pursuit. They were instantly routed, and made for the nearest gates of the city, in such confusion that the enemy entered with them, and being soon joined by the garrison of the Cadmea, made themselves masters of the adjacent part of the city. The besieged made a short stand in the market-place; but, when they saw themselves threatened on all sides, the cavalry took to flight through the opposite gates, and the rest as they could find a passage. But few of the foot combatants effected their escape; and the conquerors glutted their rage with unresisted slaughter.
It was not however so much from the Macedonians, as from some of their auxiliaries, that the Thebans suffered the utmost excesses of hostile cruelty. Alexander had brought with him a body of Thracians among his light troops, and he had been reinforced by the Phocians and by all the Bœotian towns hostile to Thebes—more especially by Orchomenos, Thespiæ, and Platæa. The Thracians, impelled by their habitual ferocity, of which they had shown so fearful a specimen many years before, at the capture of Mycalessus; the Bœotians, eager to revenge the wrongs they had endured from Thebes in the day of her prosperity—revelled in the usual license of carnage, plunder, and wanton outrages on those whose age and sex left them most defenceless. The bloodshed, however, was restrained by cupidity, that the most valuable part of the spoil might not be lost. The number of the slain was estimated at six thousand; that of the prisoners at thirty thousand. The Macedonians lost about five hundred men.
THE FATE OF THEBES
It only remained to fix the final doom of the conquered city. Alexander, who had probably made up his mind on it, referred it to a council of his allies, in which the representatives of the Bœotian towns took a leading part. The issue of their deliberation might be easily foreseen, and did not want plausible reasons to justify it. There was a sentence which had been hanging over Thebes ever since the Persian War in which she had so recklessly betrayed the cause of Grecian liberty. It had never been forgotten, and calls had been heard from time to time for its execution. And the city which had so long been permitted by the indulgence of the Greeks to retain a forfeited existence, had nevertheless been distinguished by her merciless treatment of her conquered enemies. In the case of Platæa she had not only instigated the Spartans to a cold-blooded slaughter, forbidden by the usages of Greek warfare, but she had destroyed a city which by its heroic patriotism had earned the gratitude of the whole nation, and was itself a monument of the national triumph. Nor was it forgotten that when Athens was at the mercy of its enemies she alone had proposed to sweep it from the face of Greece.
It seems that these old offences were placed in the foreground, while little notice was taken of the later acts of violence and oppression towards the Bœotian towns, which were the real grounds of their implacable resentment. The decree of the council was that the Cadmea should be left standing, to be occupied by a Macedonian garrison; that the lower city should be levelled with the ground, and the territory, except the part which belonged to the temples, divided among the allies: the men, women, and children, sold as slaves, all but the priests and priestesses, and some citizens who stood in a relation of hospitality to Philip or Alexander, or held the office of proxenus to the state of Macedonia. Under this head were probably included most of the conqueror’s political adherents. He made one other exception, which was honourable rather to his taste than his humanity. He bade spare the house of Pindar, and as many as were to be found of his descendants. The council likewise decreed that Orchomenos and Platæa should be rebuilt. The demolished buildings of Thebes may have furnished materials for the restoration of Platæa.
It can hardly be doubted that policy had a large share in this rigorous measure, and that Thebes was destroyed chiefly because it would not have been safe to leave it standing, and that the example of its fate might strike the rest of Greece with a wholesome awe. Alexander himself in his subsequent treatment of individual Thebans tacitly acknowledged that his severity had been carried to an extreme which bordered upon cruelty. But the harshness which he displayed in this case enabled him to assume the appearance of magnanimity and gentleness in others. All the Greek states which had betrayed their hostility towards him, now vied with one another in apologies, recantations, and offers of submission. A reaction immediately took place at Elis in favour of the Macedonian party; and in the Arcadian towns which had sent succours for the Thebans, the authors of this imprudent step were condemned to death. The Ætolians too who had shown some symptoms of disaffection sent an embassy to deprecate the king’s displeasure.
Athens, however, had most reason to dread his anger, and strove to avert it by a servile homage, which at once marks the character of the man who proposed it and the depth to which the people had fallen since the battle of Chæronea. When the first fugitives arrived from Thebes, the Athenians were celebrating their great Eleusinian mysteries. All fled in consternation to the city, and removed their property out of the country within the walls. An assembly was immediately called, in which, on the motion of Demades, it was decreed that ten envoys, the most acceptable that could be found, should be sent to congratulate Alexander on his safe return from his northern expedition, and on the chastisement which he had inflicted on Thebes. The king discovered no displeasure at this piece of impudent obsequiousness, but in reply sent a letter to the people demanding nine of the leading anti-Macedonian orators and generals—Demosthenes, Lycurgus, Hyperides, Polyeuctus, Chares, Charidemus, Ephialtes, Diotimus, and Mœrocles, whom he charged both with the transactions which had led to the battle of Chæronea, and with all the hostile measures that had since been adopted at Athens towards his father and himself, particularly with the principal share in the revolt of Thebes.
In the assembly which was held to consider this requisition, Phocion, it is said, both counselled the people to surrender the objects of the conqueror’s resentment or apprehensions, and exhorted the elected victims to devote themselves spontaneously for the public weal. Demosthenes is reported to have quoted the fable of the wolf who called on the sheep to give up their dogs. The people wavered between fear and reluctance, till Demades stept in to remove the difficulty. He undertook—it was commonly believed for a fee of five talents—to appease Alexander, and save the threatened lives. He found the king satiated with the punishment of the Thebans, and disposed for an exercise of mercy which might soften the impression it had produced on the minds of the Greeks. He remitted his demand with respect to all except Charidemus, who perhaps had incurred his peculiar displeasure by his conduct at Ægæ after Philip’s death, and who now embarked for Asia, and proceeded to the Persian court.
The conqueror celebrated his return to Macedonia with an Olympic festival at Ægæ, and with games in honour of the Muses at Dium in Pieria. The inhabitants of Dium held the memory of Orpheus in great reverence, and boasted of the possession of his bones. At the time of the games it was reported that a statue of the ancient bard, which perhaps adorned his monument near the town, had been seen bathed in sweat. Alexander’s Lycian soothsayer, Aristander of Telmessus, bade him hail the omen: it signified that the masters of epic and lyric poetry should be wearied by the tale of his achievements. These achievements will now for some time claim our undivided attention.h
FOOTNOTE
[19] [It is a bishop and a doctor of divinity, Thirlwall, who justifies this mummery. If it is “excusable” and almost “pious,” the trickeries of Philip merit the same tender consideration.]
Edited by Henry Smith Williams in "The Historians' - History of the World, volume IV - Greece to the Roman Conquest", chapter 50, The Outllok Company (New York)/ The History Association (London), 1904. Digitized, adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.