contemplated an expedition against Darius, king of Persia, the several
states, having held an assembly at Corinth, concluded to furnish their
quota of supplies. Many statesmen and philosophers came to Corinth,
where Alexander was to congratulate him upon this result; but the king
was disappointed to find that Diogenes, the cynic philosopher, was not
among the number. As he desired greatly to see him, he went to his
residence in the suburbs of the city, to pay him a visit. He found the
philosopher, basking in the sun; at the approach of so many people, he
carelessly roused himself a little, and happened to fix his eyes on
Alexander—“Is there anything,” said the king, condescendingly—“in
which I can serve you?”—“Only stand a little out of my sunshine,” said
Diogenes. This answer produced a laugh among the crowd, who thought it
mere vulgarity; but Alexander saw deeper, and, reflecting upon that
superiority, which could regard even his presence without surprise,
and look with disdain upon his gifts, remarked, “that if he were not
Alexander, he would wish to be Diogenes.”
Alexander set out, in the spring of the year 334 B. C., upon his
expedition against Persia—from which, however, he never returned.
He had thirty thousand foot, and five thousand horse, and a supply
of money. His troops were well armed, the infantry bearing shields,
spears, and battle-axes of iron; the horse were equipped with similar
weapons, but defended with helmets and breastplates. The officers
all bore swords. The arms of the Persians were similar, though many
of their troops used the bow: the forces of Alexander were, however,
better provided, better trained, and far more athletic than their
Asiatic enemies.
We must pause a moment to look at that mighty power which had now
swallowed up Assyria, Babylon, and the countries from the Grecian
Archipelago on the west, to India on the east; an extent of territory
nearly three thousand miles in length, and comprehending at once the
most fertile and populous region on the face of the globe. Such were
the power and resources of the Persian empire, that, about one hundred
and fifty years prior to the date of which we are speaking, it had sent
an army, with its attendants, of five millions of persons, to conquer
that very Greece, which was now preparing to roll back the tide of war,
and put a final period to its proud existence.
The reigning king of Persia was Darius III., a weak but conceited
monarch, who held his court at the splendid city of Persepolis,
which had long been the capital of the empire. His situation was
very similar to that of the sultan of Turkey at the present day. The
Persians, though their king ruled over almost countless nations, were
comparatively few in number. His revenue was derived from the tribute
of dependent princes, and the extortions made by his own satraps or
governors. His empire, consisting of so many nations, required constant
watchfulness, to keep all parts in subjection; and as the Asiatic
troops were inferior, he kept in his pay, at all times, a considerable
number of renegade Greeks, as soldiers.
Being made aware of the design of Alexander, Darius sent a vast army
westward, and marching into Syria himself, determined there to await
his enemy. Alexander crossed the Propontis, now Sea of Marmora, which
immediately brought him into Asia Minor, and the dominions of Persia.
As soon as he landed, he went to Ilium, the scene of the Trojan war,
and the ten years’ siege of Troy, celebrated in the Iliad. He anointed
the pillar upon Achilles’ tomb with oil—and he and his friends ran
naked around it, according to the custom which then prevailed. He also
adorned it with a wreath, in the form of a crown. These ceremonies
are supposed to have been intended to enforce the belief that he was
descended from Achilles—a claim which he always maintained.
Meantime, the Persian generals had pushed forward and posted themselves
upon the banks of the Granicus, a small river now called Ousvola, which
empties into the sea of Marmora. Alexander led the attack upon them
by plunging into the river with his horse. He advanced, with thirteen
of his troop, in the face of a cloud of arrows; and though swept down
by the rapidity of the current, and opposed by steep banks lined with
cavalry, he forced his way, by irresistible strength and impetuosity,
across the stream. Standing upon the muddy slope, his troops were now
obliged to sustain a furious attack, hand to hand, and eye to eye.
The Persian troops, cheered by their vantage ground, pushed on with
terrific shouts, and hurled their javelins, like snow-flakes, upon the
Macedonians. Alexander, being himself distinguished by his buckler and
crest, decorated with white plumes, was the special object of attack.
His cuirass was pierced by a javelin, at the joint; but thus far he was
unhurt. Now he was assailed by two chiefs of great distinction. Evading
one, he engaged the other; after a desperate struggle, in which his
crest was shorn away, and his helmet cleft to his hair, he slew one of
the chiefs, and was saved, at the moment of deadly peril, by the hand
of his friend Clytus, who despatched the other.
While Alexander’s cavalry were fighting with the utmost fury, the
Macedonian phalanx and the infantry crossed the river, and now engaged
the enemy. The effect of a leader’s example was never more displayed.
Alexander’s exhibition of courage and prowess, made every soldier a
hero. They fought, indeed, like persons who knew nothing, and cared
for nothing, but to destroy the enemy. Some of the Persians gave way
and fled. Their hireling Greeks, however, maintained the fight, and
Alexander’s horse was killed under him—but not Bucephalus. “When Greek
meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.” The fight was, indeed, severe,
but at last Alexander triumphed. The victory was complete. The loss of
the Persians was twenty-five thousand slain; that of the Macedonians
less than fifty.
Alexander had now passed the gates of Asia, and had obtained entrance
into the dominions of the enemy. He paused for a time to pay the last
honors to the dead. To each, he erected a statue of brass, executed
by Lysippus. Upon the arms which were taken and distributed among the
troops, he caused this inscription to be made:—“Won by Alexander, of
the barbarians in Asia!”
We may pause here to note that Bonaparte seems to have imitated the
Macedonian conqueror in this kind of boasting. As he was on his march
to Russia, he caused to be graven on a stone fountain at Coblentz upon
the Rhine, as follows:
“Year MDCCCXII. _Memorable for the campaign against Russia._ 1812.”
The Russian commander, when Napoleon had been dethroned, passing
through Coblentz with his troops, caused to be carved, immediately
beneath as follows:
“_Seen and approved by the Russian commander of the town of Coblentz,
January 1, 1814._”
It is true that no such speedy retort awaited the Macedonian conqueror,
yet he was bound upon an errand which was ere long to put a period to
his proud career.
Alexander soon pushed on to the East, and, meeting Darius near the
Gulf of Issus, now Aias, and forming the north-eastern point of
the Mediterranean, a tremendous engagement took place. Darius was
defeated, and more than one hundred thousand of his soldiers lay
dead on the field. Darius escaped with difficulty, leaving his tent,
and even his wife and daughter, in the hands of the enemy. When the
fighting was over, Alexander went to see the tent of Darius. It
was, indeed, a curiosity to one like the Macedonian king, little
acquainted with eastern refinements. He gazed for a time at the
luxurious baths of Darius; his vases, boxes, vials and basins, all of
wrought gold; he inhaled the luscious perfumes, and surveyed the rich
silk drapery and gorgeous furniture of the tent—and then exclaimed,
contemptuously—“This, then, it seems, is to be a king,”—intimating
that if these were the only distinctions of a king, the title deserved
contempt.
While Alexander was thus occupied, he was told that the wife and
daughter of Darius were his captives. The queen was one of the
loveliest women that was ever known, and his daughter was also
exceedingly beautiful. Though Alexander was told all this, he sent word
to the afflicted ladies that they need have no fear; and he caused them
to be treated with the utmost delicacy and attention. He refrained from
using his power in any way to their annoyance; and thus displayed one
of the noblest graces of a gentleman and a man—a nice regard for the
feelings of the gentler sex. This anecdote of the conqueror has shed
more honor upon his name for two thousand years, than the victory of
the Issus; nor will it cease to be cited in his praise, as long as
history records his name.
The historians represent Alexander as simple in his tastes and habits
at this period. He was temperate in eating, drank wine with great
moderation, and if he sat long at table, it was for the purpose of
conversation, in which he excelled, though given to boasting of his
military exploits. When business called, nothing could detain him; but
in times of leisure, his first business in the morning was to sacrifice
to the gods. He then took his dinner, sitting. The rest of the day
he spent in hunting, or deciding differences among his troops, or in
reading and writing. Sometimes he would exercise himself in shooting
or darting the javelin, or in mounting and alighting from a chariot
in full career. Sometimes, also, he diverted himself with fowling and
fox-hunting. His chief meal was supper, which he took at evening, and
in a recumbent posture, with his friends around him. He was not fond of
delicacies and though they were always found at his table, he usually
sent them to others. Such was Alexander during the early periods of his
campaigns in Asia.
After various operations, Alexander marched against Phoenicia and
Sidon, which submitted at once. Tyre resisted, but, after a siege of
seven months, was taken by storm. Eight thousand Tyrians fell in the
onslaught, and thirty thousand captives were sold into slavery. Gaza
was now taken, after a siege of two months. Alexander then marched
to Jerusalem, to punish the inhabitants for refusing to supply him
with men and money. The high priest, Jaddus, went forth to meet the
conqueror, attended by the priests and the people, with all the
imposing emblems and signs of the Jewish religion. Alexander was so
struck with the spectacle, that he pardoned the people, adored the name
of the Most High, and performed sacrifices in the temple, according to
the instructions of Jaddus. The book of the prophet Daniel was shown to
him, and the passage pointed out in which it was foretold that the king
of Grecia would overcome the king of Persia, with which he was well
pleased.
The conqueror now turned his arms against Egypt, which yielded without
striking a blow. Having established the government on a liberal
footing, he set out, A. D. 331, to attack the Persian king, who had
gathered an army of a million of men, and was now in Persia. About
this time, he received a letter from Darius, in which that prince
proposed, on condition of a pacification and future friendship, to
pay him ten thousand talents in ransom of his prisoners, to cede him
all the countries on this side the Euphrates, and to give him his
daughter in marriage. Upon his communicating these proposals to his
friends, Parmenio said, “If I were Alexander, I would accept them.”
“So would I,” said Alexander, “if I were Parmenio.” The answer he gave
Darius, was, “that if he would come to him, he should find the best of
treatment; if not, he must go and seek him.”
In consequence of this declaration, he began his march; but he repented
that he had set out so soon, when he received information that the wife
of Darius was dead. That princess died in childbed; and the concern of
Alexander was great, because he lost an opportunity of exercising his
clemency. All he could do was to return, and bury her with the utmost
magnificence.
Alexander, having subdued various places that held out against him,
now proceeded in his march against Darius. He found him with his
immense army encamped on the banks of the Bumadus, a small river in
what is now called Kourdistan. Alexander immediately approached, and
prepared for battle. Being near the enemy at night, the murmur of the
immense multitude, seeming like the roaring of the sea, startled one of
Alexander’s friends, who advised him to attack them in the night. The
reply was, “I will not steal a victory!”
During that night, though it was foreseen that a dreadful and doubtful
battle was to be fought the next day, Alexander, having made his
preparations, slept soundly. In the morning, on the field, he wore a
short coat, girt close about him; over that, a breast plate of linen
strongly quilted, which he had taken in the battle of the Issus. His
helmet was of polished iron, and shone like silver. To this was fixed
a gorget, set with precious stones. His sword was light, and of the
finest temper. The belt he wore was superb and was given him by the
Rhodians, as a mark of respect. In reviewing and exercising, he spared
Bucephalus, but he rode him in battle, and when he mounted his back it
was always a signal for the onset.
Aristander, the soothsayer, rode by the side of Alexander, in a white
robe, and with a golden crown upon his head. He looked up, and lo, an
eagle was sailing over the army! His course was towards the enemy. The
army caught sight of the noble bird, and, taking it for a good omen,
they now charged the enemy like a torrent. They were bravely resisted,
but Alexander and his troops burst down upon them like an overwhelming
avalanche, cutting their way towards the tent of Darius. The path was
impeded by the slaughtered heaps that gathered before them, and their
horses were embarrassed by the mangled and dying soldiers, who clung to
the legs of the animals, seeking in their last agonies to resist them.
Darius, now in the utmost peril, turned to fly, but his chariot became
entangled in the slain. Seeing this, he mounted a swift horse, and fled
to Bactriana, where he was treacherously murdered by Bessus.
Alexander was now declared king of all Asia, and, though this might
seem the summit of his glory, it was the point at which his character
begins to decline. He now affected the pomp of an eastern prince, and
addicted himself to dissipation. He, however, continued his conquests.
He marched to Babylon, which opened its gates for his reception. He
proceeded to Persepolis, which he took by surprise. Here, in a drunken
frolic, and instigated by an abandoned woman, named Thais, he set fire
to the palace, which was burnt to the ground.
He now marched into Parthia, and, meeting with a beautiful princess,
named Roxana, daughter of a Bactrian king, he fell in love with her,
and married her. Some time after this, upon some suspicion of the
fidelity of Philotas, the son of Parmenio, he caused him to be put
to the torture till he died. He then sent orders to have his father,
an old and faithful soldier, who had fought under Philip, and who
was now in Media, to be put to death, which were but too faithfully
executed. This horrid transaction was soon followed by another, still
more dreadful. Under the excitement of wine, a dispute arose between
Alexander and Clytus, the brave officer who had saved his life at the
battle of the Granicus.
Both became greatly excited: taunts and gibes were uttered on either
side. Alexander, unable longer to keep down his rage, threw an apple
in the face of Clytus, and then looked about for his sword; but one of
his friends had prudently taken it away. Clytus was now forced out of
the room, but he soon came back, and repeated the words of Euripides,
meaning to apply them to Alexander:
“Are these your customs?—Is it thus that Greece
Rewards her combatants? Shall one man claim
The trophies won by thousands?”
The conqueror was now wholly beside himself. He seized a spear from
one of the guards, and, at a plunge, ran it through the body of Clytus,
who fell dead, uttering a dismal groan as he expired.
Alexander’s rage subsided in a moment. Seeing his friends standing
around in silent astonishment, he hastily drew out the spear, and was
applying it to his own throat, when his guards seized him, and carried
him by force to his chamber. Here the pangs of remorse stung him to
the quick. Tears fell fast for a time, and then succeeded a moody,
melancholy silence, only broken by groans. His friends attempted in
vain to console him. It was not till after long and painful suffering,
that he was restored to his wonted composure.
Alexander now set out for the conquest of India, then a populous
country, and the seat of immense wealth. After a series of splendid
achievements, he reached the banks of the Hydaspes, a considerable
stream that flows into the Indus. Here he was met by Porus, an Indian
king, with an army, in which were a large number of elephants. A
bloody battle followed, in which Alexander was victorious and Porus
made captive. “How do you wish to be treated?” said Alexander to the
unfortunate monarch. “Like a king,” was the brief, but significant
reply. Alexander granted his request, restored his dominions and much
enlarged them, making him, however, one of his tributaries.
The conqueror, not yet satisfied, wished to push on to the Ganges;
but his army refusing to go farther, he was forced to return. On his
way back, he paid a visit to the ocean, and, in a battle with some
savage tribes, being severely wounded, he came near losing his life.
On the borders of the sea, he and his companions first saw the ebbing
and flowing of the tide,—a fact of which they were before entirely
ignorant. In this expedition the army suffered greatly: when it set out
for India, it consisted of 150.000 men: on its return, it was reduced
to one fourth of that number.
[Illustration]
Coming to a fertile district, Alexander paused to recruit, and refresh
his men. He then proceeded, keeping up a kind of bacchanalian fête, in
which the whole army participated. His own chariot was drawn by eight
horses: it consisted of a huge platform where he and his friends
revelled, day and night. This carriage was followed by others, some
covered with rich purple silk and others with fresh boughs. In these
were the generals, crowned with flowers, and inebriated with wine. In
the immense procession there was not a spear, helmet, or buckler, but
in their places cups, flagons, and goblets. The whole country resounded
with flutes, clarionets, and joyous songs. The scene was attended with
the riotous dances and frolics of a multitude of women. This licentious
march continued for seven days.
When he arrived at Susa, in Persia, he married a great number of his
friends to Persian ladies. He set the example by taking Statira,
daughter of Darius, to himself, and gave her sister to Hephæstion,
his dearest friend. He now made a nuptial feast for the newly-married
people, and nine thousand persons sat down to the entertainment. Each
one was honored with a golden cup.
On his return to Babylon, Alexander determined to make that place his
residence and capital, and set about various plans for carrying this
into effect. But his mind seemed haunted with superstitious fears.
Everything that happened was construed into an augury of evil. The
court swarmed with sacrifices and soothsayers, but still, for a long
time, peace could not be obtained by the monarch.
At last he seemed to be relieved, and being asked by Medias to a
carousal, he drank all day and all night, until he found a fever coming
upon him. He then desisted, but it was too late. The disease increased,
setting at defiance every attempt at remedy, and in the space of about
thirty days he died. Such was the miserable end of Alexander the Great.
His wife, Roxana, with the aid of Perdiccas, murdered Statira and her
sister, and the empire of the mighty conqueror was divided between four
of his officers.
The great achievement of Alexander—the grand result of his life—was
the subjugation of the Persian monarchy, which lay like an incubus upon
the numerous nations that existed between the Indus and the Euxine
sea, and at the same time intercepted the communication between Europe
and Asia. It was an achievement far greater than it would be now to
overthrow the Ottoman throne, and give independence to the various
tribes and states that are at present under its dominion. That he
accomplished this work for any good motive, we cannot maintain, for his
whole course shows, that, like all other conquerors, his actions began
and terminated in himself.
The character of Alexander has been delineated in the course of this
brief sketch. We have not been able to give the details of all his
battles, marches, and countermarches. His achievements were indeed
stupendous. He crossed the Propontis in 334, and died in 323. It was in
the brief space of eleven years, and at the age of thirty-three, that
he had accomplished the deeds of which we have given a naked outline.
Nor was he a mere warrior. He displayed great talents as a statesman,
and many of the traits of a gentleman. His whole life, indeed, was
founded upon an atrocious wrong—that one man may sacrifice millions
of lives for his own pleasure—but this was the error of the age. As
before intimated, considered in the light of Christianity, he was a
monster; yet, according to the heathen model, he was a hero, and almost
a god.
In seeking for the motives which impelled Alexander forward in his
meteor-like career we shall see that it was the love of glory—an
inspiration like that of the chase, in which the field is an empire,
and the game a monarch. In this wild ambition, he was stimulated by
the Iliad of Homer, and it was his darling dream to match the bloody
deeds of its heroes—Ajax and Achilles. It is impossible to see in his
conduct, anything which shows a regard to the permanent happiness of
mankind. He makes war, as if might were the only test of right; and he
sacrifices nations to his thirst of conquest, with as little question
of the rectitude of his conduct, as is entertained by the lion when he
slays the antelope, or the sportsman when he brings down his game.
Although we see many noble traits in Alexander, the real selfishness
of his character is evinced in his famous letter to Aristotle. The
latter, having published some of his works, is sharply rebuked by
the conqueror, who says to him—“Now that you have done this, what
advantage have I, your pupil, over the rest of mankind, since you have
put it in the power of others to possess the knowledge which before was
only imparted to me!” What can be more narrow and selfish than this?
Even the current standard of morals in Alexander’s time, would condemn
this as excessive meanness.
We must not omit to record the last days of one that figures in
Alexander’s annals, and is hardly less famous than the conqueror
himself—we mean his noble horse, Bucephalus. This animal, more
renowned than any other of his race, died on the banks of the Hydaspes.
Craterus was ordered to superintend the building of two cities, one
on each side of this river. The object was to secure the passage in
future. That on the left bank was named Nicæa, the other Bucephala,
in honor of the favorite horse, which had expired in battle without
a wound, being worn out by age, heat, and over-exertion. He was then
thirty years old. He was a large, powerful, and spirited horse, and
would allow no one but Alexander to mount him. From a mark of a bull’s
head imprinted on him, he derived his name, Bucephalus; though some say
that he was so called in consequence of having in his forehead a white
mark resembling a bull’s head.
Once this famous charger, whose duties were restricted to the field
of battle, was intercepted, and fell into the hands of the Uxians.
Alexander caused a proclamation to be made, that, if Bucephalus were
not restored, he would wage a war of extirpation against the whole
nation. The restoration of the animal instantly followed the receipt of
this notification; so great was Alexander’s regard for his horse and so
great the terror of his name among the barbarians. “Thus far,” writes
Arrian, “let Bucephalus be honored by me, for the sake of his master.”
[Illustration]
ARISTOTLE.
This great philosopher was born at Stagira, or Stageira, in Macedonia,
384 B. C. His father, physician to Amyntas II., king of Macedonia,
commenced the education of his son, intending to prepare him for his
own profession; and the studies pursued by the latter with this object,
doubtless laid the foundation for that lore of natural history, which
he displayed through life, and which he cultivated with such success.