ALEXANDER THE GREAT
I. PHILIP OF MACEDON
History is the story of the way in which man has learned how to live,
and in learning this, man has come from time to time to periods of
great change: periods when the old order of things has changed,
passing into the new. These times are always very difficult for
those who live in them, for so much of the old seems to be undergoing
destruction that the building of the new is not noticed, for those
who destroy generally make more noise than those who build.
Greece was living through one of these periods of change when Philip
became King of Macedon. Not very much is known about the early
Macedonians. They were partly barbarian, and partly Greek, and when
they first appear in history were very disunited. In the plains
dwelt a number of tribes, who were said to be of Greek origin. They
were closely bound to the King and the chief of them were known as
his Companions. Scattered about the hills were numerous tribes, more
barbarian than Greek, who looked on the King of Macedonia as their
overlord, but who were a constant {330} source of danger to him, as
they were frequently struggling for independence. When a weak king
ruled, the story of Macedonia became that of petty warfare with these
hill-tribes, but strong kings were always trying to unite these
warring elements into a nation.
In 359 B.C., Philip became King of Macedonia. He had spent three
years in Thebes, where he had seen the transformation that the
military genius of Epaminondas had effected in the Theban army, and
now at the age of twenty-four, he found himself ruler of Macedonia.
But his inheritance was one that might have daunted the stoutest
heart. He had no allies and no money; enemies surrounded him on all
sides, and there was no unity in his kingdom. But he had youth, a
few faithful friends, unbounded ambition, and a body fit to endure
any hardships. Philip never asked anything of his soldiers that he
was not ready to do himself, yet he was not a man whom they loved,
and he inspired fear rather than affection.
Philip had three definite aims in his policy: to create a standing
army, one that would be ready to march and fight at all times, in
winter as well as summer; to unite all Macedonia into a real kingdom,
and then to unite all Greece under his rule. Having done that, he
intended to march into Asia against the Persian King.
Philip created his army, he subdued and united Macedonia, and then he
was ready to turn to Greece. Athens, Sparta and Thebes were now all
weak. The power of the city-state was passing away and was {331} to
yield in time to the new idea of national unity, but it was not to
yield without a conflict. The struggle between Philip and the Greek
states was more than a struggle between a strong state and several
weak ones; it was a conflict of ideas. On the one side was Athens
and the states who sided with her, the last representatives of the
independent city-state who still jealously guarded their political
freedom; on the other side was Philip, who represented this new idea
of national unity. He determined to subdue most of Greece by force,
but he would have liked Athens to yield to him of her own free will.
The power of her fleet and her armies had been broken, but her
thought, her art and her culture remained. Could Philip have been
received by Athens with good-will, and been recognized by her as the
leader of all Greece; he would have held it of greater importance
than any military victory. He wrote letters to her statesmen, sent
special envoys to Athens to plead his cause, he tried to prove to her
that her fears of him were groundless, and he treated the very soil
of Attica as if it were sacred. It is a striking picture: Philip,
the warrior, at the head of a powerful army, lowering his sword
before the politically weak little state, because of the might of her
spirit. And that spirit was not dead. One more flash of the old
Athenian independence flamed out in the defiance she hurled at Philip.
Philip advanced. He seized and held Thermopylae, the gateway into
Greece; he upheld the rights of Delphi against a neighbouring state
and was {332} recognized by the Oracle as the defender of Apollo.
Then he marched into Boeotia, where Athens and Thebes made a last
tremendous stand against him. In 338 B.C. one of the decisive
battles of the world was fought at Chaeronea. On one side was an
army of the last representatives of the old city-state, a confused
array of men, some of them citizen-soldiers serving without pay, some
of them hired mercenaries; and on the other side, the first great
army of one united nation. The battle was fought on a hot summer's
day, and it was fierce and long, but at length the Greeks gave way
and Philip was victorious. He had little mercy for Thebes, and she
drank the cup of bitterness to the dregs. Some of her leaders were
banished, others were put to death, a Macedonian garrison was placed
in the city and all Theban lands were confiscated.
Athens was treated with greater mercy. On the day of the victory
over her, Philip
did not laugh at table, or mix any amusements with the
entertainment; he had no chaplets or perfumes; and as far as was
in his power, he conquered in such a way that nobody might think
of him as a conqueror. And neither did he call himself the King;
but the general of Greece. To the Athenians, who had been his
bitterest enemies, he sent back their prisoners without ransom,
and restored the bodies of those that were slain in battle for
burial, and he sent Alexander his son to make peace and an
alliance with them.[1]
Underlying all his ambition, all his reliance on military power, was
yet the feeling, partly unconscious yet there, that, after all, the
things of the spirit {333} were greater than those of pomp and power,
and he longed for recognition from Athens. But Athens, though forced
to recognize his supremacy, never accepted him willingly.
Philip's next move was to organize an expedition into Asia, in order
to crush the power of Persia, and as such an expedition would take
Philip out of Greece, most of the Greek states agreed to join it.
But first he returned to Macedonia, where enemies were always to be
found stirring up hostility to him. A royal marriage gave a good
excuse for a great public festivity, and a procession was planned, in
which Philip, robed in white, was to walk in state. It must have
been a moment of great triumph. His ambitions were fulfilled. The
Macedonian army was the greatest in the world, he had united the
hostile elements in his kingdom and made of them a nation, he had
conquered Greece and been recognized as the chief general of all the
Greek armies, and now he was about to set forth to conquer Persia.
He was still young, and there seemed nothing to prevent the
fulfilment of every further ambition. But suddenly, as the stately
procession moved forward, a man darted out from the crowd of
spectators, buried his dagger deep in the heart of the King, and
Philip fell dead.
He was succeeded by his son Alexander, who in a speech to the
Macedonians summed up the achievements of his father. He said to
them:
My father found you, vagabond and poor, most of you clad only in
skins, tending a few sheep on the {334} mountain sides, and to
protect them you had to fight against the border tribes, often
with small success. Instead of the skins, my father gave you
cloaks to wear and he led you down from the hills into the plains
and made you the equal in battle of the neighbouring barbarians,
so that your safety depended no longer on the inaccessibility of
your mountain strongholds, but on your own valour. He taught you
to live in cities, and he gave you good laws and customs, and
instead of being the slaves and subjects of those barbarians by
whom you and your possessions had long been harried, he made you
lords over them. He also added the greater part of Thrace to
Macedonia, and by seizing the most conveniently situated places
on the sea-coast, he threw open your country to commerce. He
made it possible for you to work your mines in safety. He made
you rulers over the Thessalonians, of whom you had formerly been
in mortal fear, and by humbling the Phocians he gave you, instead
of a narrow and difficult road into Greece, a broad and easy one.
To such a degree did he humble the Athenians and Thebans, who had
ever been ready to fall upon Macedonia, that instead of your
paying tribute to the former and being vassals to the latter,
both states turned to us for protection. He marched into the
Peloponnesus and after setting affairs there in order, he was
publicly declared commander-in-chief of the whole of Greece in
the expedition against the Persian. And he considered this great
distinction not as personal honour to himself, but as a glory for
Macedonia.[2]
The new King was only twenty years old. It seemed as if his father
had been cut off at the height of his career, and that his death
could mean nothing but disaster to the power of Macedonia. But what
seems like a tragedy and the failure of human hopes, is sometimes the
door through which an individual or a nation passes to greater
things. Philip had done {335} his work. He was a great soldier and
had made great conquests, but he inspired no love and he lacked the
imagination which would have made him see with the eyes of the
conquered, and so rule them that they would have become real parts of
a mighty whole. His son was young, but he had this gift, and so the
tragedy of his father's death was the beginning of new and greater
opportunities for him, and the door through which Greece was to pass
from the old order into the new.
II. DEMOSTHENES
Though forced to acknowledge the political supremacy of Philip,
Athens had never given him the real homage he so greatly desired,
that of the spirit. And that she persisted in her refusal was
largely due to the orator Demosthenes.
Politically, Athens was now weak, and her constant wars were a great
strain on all her resources. But at this time, most of her fighting
was done at a distance from Athens and by hired mercenaries. A great
change had come over her since the days of Marathon and Salamis. No
longer was it the pride of the Athenians that her citizens themselves
defended her, and though the young men liked to boast that their
forefathers had fought at Marathon, they preferred a more
pleasure-loving life than was possible in a camp, and so they paid
other men to go out and fight for them.
Demosthenes fought against this spirit, and when Philip made advances
to Athens and tried to {336} conclude an alliance with her,
Demosthenes made speech after speech against such a policy, imploring
the people not to make terms with the stranger, but to make ready for
war, and to give their own lives on the battle-field instead of
paying others to die for them.
Demosthenes had been a delicate child, very shy and with a stammer in
his speech. He grew up, however, with a passion for oratory, and he
would go to hear the noted orators of his time and listen to every
word they said, going home afterwards to practise the art of speaking
himself. The first time he spoke in public, he met with
discouragement, for his style was awkward, his voice weak and he
stammered. He determined, however, that he would overcome all these
obstacles, and
he built himself a place to study in underground, and hither he
would come constantly every day to form his action, and to
exercise his voice; and here he would continue, oftentimes
without intermission, two or three months together, shaving one
half of his head, that so for shame he might not go abroad,
though he desired it ever so much.[3]
It was known that Demosthenes worked very hard over his speeches, and
that he never spoke in the Assembly unless he had thought over the
subject and prepared what he intended to say. It became a matter of
joke in Athens that instead of depending on inspiration, his speeches
"smelt of the lamp." In his old age, Demosthenes told some {337} of
his friends how he had overcome his defects of speech:
His inarticulate and stammering pronunciation he overcame and
rendered more distinct by speaking with pebbles in his mouth; his
voice he disciplined by declaiming and reciting speeches or
verses when he was out of breath, while running or going up steep
places; and that in his house he had a large looking-glass,
before which he would stand and go through his exercises.[4]
To cure a habit he had of raising his left shoulder while speaking,
he suspended a naked sword over it whenever he practised, and he
would stand on the sea-shore during a storm to declaim, so that he
might accustom himself to the uproar in a public assembly.
Demosthenes has been called the greatest of orators. Opinions have
differed since, as to whether his policy was the wisest for Athens to
follow at that moment, but every word he uttered was inspired by a
passionate love for Athens, and he at all times entreated the
Athenians to be true to their own great spirit and their ancient
patriotism.
Never to this day, [he said on one occasion], has this People
been eager for the acquisition of money; but for honour it has
been eager as for nothing else in the world. It is a sign of
this that when Athens had money in greater abundance than any
other Hellenic people, she spent it all in the cause of honour;
her citizens contributed from their private resources, and she
never shrank from danger when glory was to be won. Therefore
{338} she has those eternal and abiding possessions, the memory
of her actions, and the beauty of the offerings dedicated in
honour of them, the Porticoes which you see, the Parthenon, the
Colonnades, the Dockyards.
The speeches of Demosthenes against the policy of making friends with
Philip are known as the _Philippics_, a word which has become part of
later language, and in the greatest of these, he shows the Athenians
how their lowered ideals have permitted political corruption and were
leading them to destruction.
What is the cause of these things? [he asked], for as it was not
without reason that the Hellenes in old days were so prompt for
freedom, so it is not without reason or cause that they are now
so prompt to be slaves. There was a spirit, men of Athens, a
spirit in the mind of the People in those days which is absent
today, the spirit which vanquished the wealth of Persia, which
led Hellas in the path of freedom, and never gave way in face of
battle by sea or land; a spirit whose extinction today has
brought universal ruin and turned Hellas upside down. What was
this spirit? It was nothing subtle or clever. It meant that
those who took money from those who aimed at dominion or at the
ruin of Hellas were execrated by all. Where are such sentiments
now? They have been sold in the market and are gone.[5]
In burning words Demosthenes pleaded with the Athenians to fight
themselves with their old spirit for their freedom.
{339}
I wonder that you, men of Athens, who once raised your hand
against Sparta in defence of the rights of the Hellenes ... who
spent your own fortunes in war contributions and always bore the
brunt of the dangers of the campaign, that you, I say, are now
shrinking from marching, and hesitating to make any contribution
to save your own possessions.... This is our own personal and
immediate duty; and I say that you must contribute funds, you
must go on service in person with a good will.... You must get
rid of all excuses and all deficiencies on your own part; you
cannot examine mercilessly the actions of others, unless you
yourselves have done all that your duty requires.[6]
Demosthenes possessed the power of appealing to both the reason and
the emotions of his hearers, and in the end Athens followed his
advice. But it resulted in disaster. Those who had opposed
Demosthenes, especially the statesman Aeschines, turned upon him in
anger, and accused him of sacrificing the lives of the young men, and
of spending their treasure for nothing. Athens had followed his
advice and had been beaten, and now Philip was her master. As
Aeschines and his opponents had been laying such stress on the
consequences of his policy, Demosthenes defended himself in what was,
perhaps, the greatest of his speeches. In one part of it he warned
the Athenians that what he had to say might startle them, but
let no one, [he said], in the name of Heaven, be amazed at the
length to which I go, but give a kindly {340} consideration to
what I say. Even if what was to come was plain to all
beforehand; even if all foreknew it; even if you, Aeschines, had
been crying with a loud voice in warning and protestation, you
who uttered not so much as a sound; even then, I say, it was not
right for the city to abandon her course, if she had any regard
for her fame, or for our forefathers, or for the ages to come.
As it is, she is thought, no doubt, to have failed to secure her
object, as happens to all alike, whenever God wills it: but then,
by abandoning in favour of Philip her claim to take the lead of
others, she must have incurred the blame of having betrayed them
all. Had she surrendered without a struggle those claims in
defence of which our forefathers faced every imaginable peril,
who would not have cast scorn upon you, Aeschines--upon you, I
say; not, I trust, upon Athens nor upon me? In God's name, with
what faces should we have looked upon those who came to visit the
city, if events had come round to the same conclusion as they now
have, if Philip had been chosen as commander and lord of all, and
we had stood apart, while others carried on the struggle to
prevent these things; and that, although the city had never yet
in time past preferred an inglorious security to the hazardous
vindication of a noble cause? What Hellene, what foreigner, does
not know that the Thebans, and the Spartans who were powerful
still earlier, and the Persian King would all gratefully and
gladly have allowed Athens to take and keep all that was her own,
if she would do the bidding of another, and let another take the
first place in Hellas? But this was not, it appears, the
tradition of the Athenians; it was not tolerable; it was not in
their nature. From the beginning of time no one had ever yet
succeeded in persuading the city to throw in her lot with those
who were strong, but {341} unrighteous in their dealings, and to
enjoy the security of servitude. Throughout all time she has
maintained her perilous struggle for pre-eminence, honour and
glory. And this policy you look upon as so lofty, so proper to
your own national character that, of your forefathers also, it is
those who have acted thus that you praise most highly. And
naturally, for who would not admire the courage of those men, who
did not fear to leave their land and their city, and to embark
upon their ships that they might not do the bidding of another;
who chose for their general Themistocles (who had counselled them
thus), and stoned Cyrsilus to death, when he gave his voice for
submission to a master's orders--and not him alone, for your
wives stoned his wife also to death. For the Athenians of that
day did not look for an orator or a general who would enable them
to live in happy servitude; they cared not to live at all, unless
they might live in freedom. For everyone of them felt that he
had come into being, not for his father and his mother alone, but
also for his country. And wherein lies the difference? He who
thinks he was born for his parents alone awaits the death which
destiny assigns him in the course of nature: but he who thinks
that he was born for his country also will be willing to die,
that he may not see her in bondage, and will look upon the
outrages and the indignities that he must needs bear in a city
that is in bondage as more to be dreaded than death.
Now were I attempting to argue that _I_ had induced you to show a
spirit worthy of your forefathers, there is not a man who might
not rebuke me with good reason. But, in fact, I am declaring
that such principles as these are your own; I am showing that
_before_ my time the city displayed this spirit, though I claim
that I, too, have had some share, as your servant, in carrying
{342} out your policy in detail. But in denouncing the policy as
a whole, in bidding you be harsh with me, as one who has brought
terrors and dangers upon the city, the prosecutor, in his
eagerness to deprive me of my distinction at the present moment,
is trying to rob you of praises that will last throughout all
time. For if you condemn the defendant on the ground that my
policy was not for the best, men will think that your own
judgment has been wrong, and that it was not through the
unkindness of fortune that you suffered what befell you. But it
cannot, it cannot be that you were wrong, men of Athens, when you
took upon you the struggle for freedom and deliverance. No! by
those who at Marathon bore the brunt of the peril--our
forefathers. No! by those who at Plataea drew up their
battle-line, by those who at Salamis, by those who off Artemisium
fought the fight at sea, by the many who lie in the sepulchres
where the People laid them, brave men, all alike deemed worthy by
their country, Aeschines, of the same honour and the same
obsequies--not the successful or the victorious alone! And she
acted justly. For all these have done that which it was the duty
of brave men to do; but their fortune has been that which Heaven
assigned to each.[7]
III. ALEXANDER THE GREAT
At the age of twenty, Alexander succeeded to Philip's throne. He is
one of the personalities in history who have most appealed to the
imagination, not only of his contemporaries, but of all ages. He had
the beauty of a young Greek god, a brilliant mind and personal charm
which endeared him to his {343} companions. From his father he had
inherited great military genius, extraordinary powers of
organization, tireless energy and inordinate ambition; and from his
mother, a wild, half-barbarian princess, a passionate nature, given
to outbursts of fierce and uncontrolled anger, and a romantic
imagination.
[Illustration: ALEXANDER THE GREAT. British Museum.]
During the boyhood of Alexander, his father was constantly away at
war, but he saw to it that his son was well educated. His first
teachers accustomed him to a Spartan discipline, and so trained his
body that in later years he was able to undergo fatigue and endure
hardships that astonished all who were with him.
When Alexander was twelve years old, an episode occurred which
convinced his father that he needed the best guidance that could be
found for him. A horse, Bucephalus by name, was offered to Philip
for the sum of thirteen talents, and the King, with the Prince and
many others,
went into the field to try him. But they found him so very
vicious and unmanageable that he reared up when they endeavoured
to mount him, and would not so much as endure the voice of any of
Philip's attendants. Upon which as they were leading him away as
wholly useless and untractable, Alexander, who stood by, said:
"What an excellent horse do they lose for want of address and
boldness to manage him!" Philip at first took no notice of what
he said; but when he heard him repeat the same thing several
times, and saw he was much vexed to see the horse sent away, "Do
you reproach," said he to him, "those who are older than
yourself, as if you knew more, and were better able to manage him
than they?" "I {344} could manage this horse," said he, "better
than others do." "And if you do not," said Philip, "what will
you forfeit for your rashness?" "I will pay," answered
Alexander, "the whole price of the horse." At this the whole
company fell a-laughing; and as soon as the wager was settled
amongst them, he immediately ran to the horse, and taking hold of
the bridle, turned him directly towards the sun, having, it
seems, observed that he was disturbed at and afraid of the motion
of his own shadow; then letting him go forward a little, still
keeping the reins in his hands and stroking him gently, when he
found him begin to grow eager and fiery, with one nimble leap he
securely mounted him, and when he was seated, by little and
little drew in the bridle, and curbed him without either striking
or spurring him. Presently, when he found him free from all
rebelliousness he let him go at full speed. Philip and his
friends looked on at first in silence and anxiety for the result;
till seeing him turn and come back rejoicing and triumphing for
what he had performed, they all burst out into acclamations of
applause; and his father, shedding tears, it is said, for joy,
kissed him as he came down from his horse, and in his transport
said: "O my son look thee out a kingdom equal to and worthy of
thyself, for Macedonia is too little for thee!"[8]
It was evident that Alexander would not submit to be controlled in
what he did, but that a steady guiding hand was needed to develop his
best nature, and so Philip sent for the philosopher Aristotle, who
was his tutor for four years. Aristotle taught him the best that
Greece could offer in literature, philosophy and natural science.
Alexander had no small {345} opinion of his own powers, and
considered himself quite the equal, if not the superior, of the best
minds of his time, and he wanted to be recognized as such. Later,
when Aristotle had published some of his writings, Alexander wrote to
him: "You have not done well to publish your books of oral doctrine;
for what is there now that we excel others in, if those things which
we have been particularly instructed in be laid open to all?"[9]
Alexander had been born with a love for study, and his education gave
him a real appreciation of all that was best in Greek thought. He
used to sleep with a copy of Homer under his pillow, and he told
Aristotle that he would "rather excel others in the knowledge of what
is excellent than in the extent of his power and dominion."[10]
Alexander grew to love his tutor greatly, and in after years he would
say that as from his father he had received life, so from Aristotle
had he learned to lead a good life.
Such a personality soon made Alexander the idol of Macedonia, but, as
in the case of his father, that was not enough; Macedonian, and
therefore in the eyes of Greece a half-barbarian, he wanted to be
accepted by the Greeks as a Greek and to receive their hero-worship.
Like Philip, he was determined to march into Asia, subdue the Persian
King and become a world ruler, but it was necessary that he should
subdue Greece first. He did this very quickly, and in 335 B.C., one
year after he became King, he marched against Thebes, which had
organized a revolt against him. He came upon the city {346} with
almost magical swiftness, for in thirteen days he had transported his
army two hundred and fifty miles. A rumour had spread in Greece that
he was dead, but suddenly, there he was before the walls of Thebes.
In two days all was over. The city was razed to the ground, and the
inhabitants either slain or sold into slavery. Yet in the midst of
all the horror, Alexander gave an order which seized upon the Greek
imagination: the house of Pindar was to be left untouched for no war
was being waged against Greek civilization.
Alexander went to Corinth, where he was elected General of the army
that was to invade Persia. He was surrounded by men who praised and
flattered him, but one man refused to take any notice of him
whatever. This was the cynical philosopher Diogenes.
Alexander found him in a cask by the roadside. When he saw so
much company near him, he raised himself a little, and vouchsafed
to look upon Alexander; and when Alexander kindly asked whether
he wanted anything. "Yes," said, he, "I would have you stand
from between me and the sun." Alexander was so struck at this
answer, and surprised at the greatness of the man, who had taken
so little notice of him, that as he went away he told his
followers, who were laughing at the moroseness of the
philosopher, that if he were not Alexander, he would choose to be
Diogenes.[11]
The time had now come when at the head of a mighty army, Alexander
could start for Asia. This {347} army was made up of Macedonians and
of men from all the most warlike states of Greece. It had been
thoroughly trained and disciplined, and it served under a general
only twenty-two years of age, it is true, but who had already shown
himself a military genius and who was adored by every soldier from
the highest to the lowest. It was an army that was never to know
defeat.
Alexander did not hide his purpose from the Persian King, for he sent
him word that he considered himself lord of Asia: "I, Alexander,
consider the whole of thy treasure, and the whole of thy land to be
mine." To the Greeks this did not represent any over-weening pride,
for Alexander was but expressing the belief that was held by
Aristotle, the greatest Greek thinker of the age, that Greeks were
justified in enslaving the Barbarian.
No story of conquest is more romantic than that of Alexander. On
first reaching Asia Minor he went to Ilium, where he dedicated his
armour to Athena, and took in its place some weapons which tradition
said had been used in the Trojan War, and he laid a wreath on the
tomb of Achilles. Then he started on his march. He came, whilst
passing through Asia Minor, to Gordium, where he saw the celebrated
Gordian knot, by which the yoke was fastened to the pole of an
ancient chariot. An old prophecy had been made that the man who
untied this knot would rule the world. Alexander tried to loosen it,
but losing patience, he took his sword and cut it. He meant to rule
the world, and he knew that his empire would only be won by the sword.
{348}
Alexander marched through Syria into Egypt, and when he was in Egypt,
he made a journey through the desert of Libya to consult the oracle,
Zeus Ammon.
Few men would have started upon so long and dangerous a journey
without misgivings, for there was likely to be scarcity of water,
and violent winds that would blow about the poisonous sand of the
desert and cause the death of those who inhaled it. But
Alexander was not to be turned from anything he was bent upon;
for hitherto fortune had helped him in all his plans, and the
boldness of his temper gave him a passion for overcoming
difficulties. In this journey the gods seemed to favour him as
usual, for plentiful rains fell, which not only relieved the
soldiers from fear of dying of thirst, but made the sand moist
and firm to travel on and purified the air. Besides, some ravens
kept up with them in their march, flying before them and waiting
for them if they fell behind; but the greatest miracle of all was
that if any of the company went astray in the night, the ravens
never ceased croaking until they were guided to the right path
again.
Having passed through the wilderness, they came to the place
where the high-priest of Ammon bade Alexander welcome in the name
of the god, and called him son of Zeus. And being asked by the
King whether any of his father's murderers had escaped
punishment, the priest charged him to speak with more respect,
since his was not a mortal father. Then Alexander desired to
know of the oracle if any of those who murdered Philip were yet
unpunished, and further concerning dominion, whether the empire
of the world should be his? This, the god answered, he should
obtain, and that Philip's death {349} was fully revenged, which
gave him so much satisfaction that he made splendid offerings to
Zeus, and gave the priests very rich presents.[12]
Before leaving Egypt, Alexander founded the city of Alexandria,
which takes its name from him. The position seemed to him a very
fine one in which to found a city, and he thought it would become
a prosperous one. Therefore he was seized by an ardent desire to
undertake the enterprise, and he marked out the boundaries of the
city himself, pointing out where the market-place was to be
constructed, where the temples were to be built, stating how many
there were to be, and to what Greek gods they were to be
dedicated, and specially marking a spot for a temple to the
Egyptian Isis. He also pointed out where the wall was to be
carried out. The soothsayers, (pondering upon certain lucky
omens), told Alexander that the city would become prosperous in
every respect, but especially in regard to the fruits of the
earth.[13]
Before his death, Alexander founded many cities called by his name,
but the Alexandria of Egypt was the greatest, and the one that was to
survive even to the present day. For more than two thousand years it
has held its position as one of the chief ports in the Eastern part
of the Mediterranean. Alexander did not intend that it should become
the capital of Egypt, but he did intend that it should take the place
of Tyre, so that the trade coming {350} from the East should be in
the hands of Greeks and not of Phoenicians.
The army worshipped Alexander, and he knew how to appeal to the
imagination of his followers and to gain their devotion. He was once
detained by a serious illness, caused by bathing in an ice-cold
river. One of his physicians had prepared medicine for him, but
before he had taken it, one of his commanders sent the King a letter
bidding him beware of Philip (the physician) who, he said, had been
bribed by Darius to poison him. Having read the letter, Alexander
put it under his pillow without showing it to anybody, and when
Philip came in with the potion, he took it with great
cheerfulness and assurance, giving him the letter to read. It
was well worth being present to see Alexander take the draught
and Philip read the letter at the same time.[14]
On one occasion
he had made a long and painful march of eleven days, during which
his soldiers suffered so much from want of water that they were
ready to give up. While they were in this distress it happened
that some Macedonians who had fetched water in skins upon their
mules from a river they had found out came about noon to the
place where Alexander was, and seeing him almost choked with
thirst, presently filled a helmet and offered it to him. He
asked them to whom they were carrying the water; they told him to
their children, adding that if his life were but saved, it was no
matter for them though {351} they all perished. Then he took the
helmet into his hands, and looking round about, when he saw all
those who were with him stretching their heads out and looking
earnestly after the drink, he returned it again with thanks
without taking a drop of it. "For," said he, "if I alone should
drink, the rest will be out of heart." When the soldiers heard
him speak in this way, they one and all cried out to him to lead
them forward boldly, and began whipping on their horses. For
whilst they had such a King they said they defied both weariness
and thirst, and looked upon themselves to be little less than
immortal.[15]
On another occasion the hardships endured by the army were so great
that the men were almost ready to refuse to follow Alexander any
further. But he called them together, and spoke to them, reminding
them that he asked no one to suffer what he himself did not suffer.
I often sit up at night to watch for you, [he said], that you may
be able to sleep. Who is there of you who knows that he has
endured greater toil for me than I have for him? I have been
wounded with the sword in close fight; I have been shot with
arrows; and though I have suffered these things for the sake of
your lives, your glory, and your wealth, I am still leading you
as conquerors over all the land and sea, all rivers, mountains
and plains.[16]
And the magic of his personality silenced all their murmuring and
banished all their discontent.
{352}
Followed by this devoted army, Alexander started on a marvellous
campaign which led him to the uttermost limit of the then known
world, even beyond the Indus into India. In battle after battle he
met those who opposed his path and conquered them. Alexander did not
know the meaning of the word _impossible_. He was told once that a
certain mountain pass was impracticable. For other men, it would
have been, but Alexander gave orders that his spearmen should cut
steps in the steep rock, and where before only the surest-footed
goats had climbed, Alexander and his men passed in safety. His men
followed him over snowy mountains in winter, and across thirsty
deserts in summer, up and down the lower ranges of the Himalaya
Mountains, where the best European armies of today can only go with
difficulty. They crossed the plains of India in the rainy season,
and even went through that country so unfit for human habitation that
Mohammedan conquerors of a later age declared it was a place fit only
to be dwelt in by the souls of the lost.
Nothing stopped Alexander, not the mountain barrier, nor the deep
river, nor the burning sands. On he went, until he reached what he
believed to be the River Ocean that girdled the earth.
Everywhere Alexander had been victorious, until even the Great King
of Persia himself was utterly defeated and Alexander was seated upon
his throne. He burnt the Persian palace at Persepolis in order "to
take vengeance on the Persians for their deeds in the invasion of
Greece, when they razed Athens to the ground and burnt down the
temples. He also {353} desired to punish the Persians for all the
other injuries they had done the Greeks."[17]
When the news of the victories of Alexander over the Persians reached
Greece, great was the amazement. For centuries, the name of the
Great King had stood for all that was powerful and invincible.
Though he had been driven out of Greece, he was still believed to be
omnipotent in Asia. The general feeling was voiced by one of the
orators, speaking of what was happening in the Athenian Assembly:
What is there strange and unexpected that has not happened in our
time? We have not lived the life of ordinary men, and the things
we have seen will become a tale of wonder to posterity. Is not
the King of the Persians, he who channelled Athos, he who bridged
the Hellespont, he who demanded earth and water of the Greeks, he
who dared to write in his letters that he was lord of all men
from the rising of the sun unto its setting, is he not struggling
now, no longer for lordship over others, but already for his life?
Alexander had conquered the Great King and seated himself on the
royal throne of Persia under the canopy of gold. But now that he had
reached the summit of his ambition and was master of the greatest
empire in the world, a change came over him, and he began to indulge
his passions and to give himself up to all kinds of dissipation. He
dressed like a Persian, which deeply offended the {354} Greeks, who
became jealous of the increasing favour the King showed to the
Barbarian.
Slowly the leaders of Alexander's army began to realize the change
that was taking place in their general, and though he gained in
popularity with the Persians, he began to lose some of the devotion
hitherto felt for him by the Greeks and Macedonians, and he was
becoming estranged from his old followers. At length they realized
that it was not a Greek conquest that would enslave Asia of which he
dreamed, but of a world empire, in which the Barbarian would live on
equal terms with the Greek. Alexander was far-seeing beyond his age,
and he had learned that men whose customs are alien to those in which
he had been brought up were not always to be despised, and that if he
dreamed of holding the world empire he had conquered, he could only
do so by treating all parts of it alike, and by encouraging
intercourse between the different races which composed it. However
wise this may have been, it is not difficult to understand the
feeling of the older Greeks who had been educated to feel a gulf
between them and the Barbarian that nothing could ever bridge. The
climax of the estrangement between Alexander and his old companions
came in a tragic scene at a banquet. Alexander and his friends had
been drinking fast and furiously, then songs had been sung, some of
which ridiculed the Macedonian officers who had recently been
unfortunate in a skirmish. The older men present were offended, but
Alexander laughed and had the song repeated. Clitus, who had been an
old and trusted friend of {355} the King, said angrily: "It is not
well to make a jest of Macedonians among their enemies, for, though
they have met with misfortunes, they are better men than those who
laugh at them." Angry words passed between him and the King, until,
unable to control his rage, Alexander snatched a spear from one of
his guards and ran it through the body of Clitus, who fell dead to
the ground. Dead silence followed this mad deed, and Alexander was
sobered by the sight of the man he had loved lying dead at his feet,
slain by his own hand. He drew the spear out of the body and would
have killed himself with it, had the guards not interfered and led
him by force to his chamber. All that night and the next day he wept
bitterly and would speak to no one. At length one of his friends
entered the room where he lay and said to him in a loud voice:
Is this the Alexander whom the whole world looks to, lying here
weeping like a slave for fear of what men will say? It is
Alexander himself who, by the right of his conquests, should be
the law to decide what is right and wrong. Do you not know,
Alexander, that Zeus is represented with Justice and Law on
either side of him, to show that all the deeds of a conqueror are
lawful and just?[18]
The King was soothed by these words, for he was only too ready to
believe, as his friend had said, that whatever he might choose to do
was right. But he was spoiled by such flattery which only increased
{356} his arrogance and made him yield more to his passions than
before.
Having conquered and established an empire which extended from Greece
and Macedonia in Europe across Asia to India, and which included
Egypt and Libya, Alexander prepared to set out on yet another
expedition to the West and to enter Arabia. He was in Babylon, and
spent a long day attending to military duties. Towards evening, he
left his chair of state to take a little relaxation. During his
absence, a half-crazy man appeared, who, without any warning, sat
himself down on the King's seat. The attendants looked on in horror
at such an act, which seemed to them great impiety, but they did not
dare turn him out, for suddenly superstitious fears took hold of
them, and in frightened voices they whispered to each other that this
could foretell nothing but some great calamity.
It was in the early summer of 323 B.C. that Alexander was ready to
start on his march, but the night before he was to leave Babylon, he
became ill of a fever. For a few days he was still able to attend to
some business from his bed, but he grew rapidly worse. Suddenly the
army realized that he was dying, and his old friends, forgetting
whatever estrangement had come between them, entreated to be allowed
to see him once more. They were admitted to the chamber where he
lay, and passed in silence before him. He was so weak that he "could
not speak, and only touched the right hand of each, and raised his
head a little, and signed with his eyes." The next day Alexander was
dead. {357} Deep and awe-struck silence fell upon the city and camp
for four days, and then, his generals having found amongst his papers
plans for the western campaign, they endeavoured to carry them out.
But they were not successful, and never again did the great army
fight under one leader. Having lost the almost magical inspiration
of Alexander's leadership, his successors were unable to keep the
empire which he had conquered.
Almost from the moment of his death, Alexander was worshipped as a
god. He was the great hero of his age, and even in his life-time, it
was believed that he was half-divine. Dying so young, he was only
thirty-three, possessed of great strength and god-like beauty,
capable of rare generosity, brave almost to recklessness, planning
conquests so far-reaching that they appealed to the imagination of
everyone, given to outbursts of savage anger and vindictive rage, all
these characteristics were looked upon as more than human. For more
than two thousand years, the name of Alexander has been immortal in
the East. There is hardly an ancient city from Babylon almost to the
borders of China, that does not claim Alexander as its founder; his
name still clings to old traditions and legends; to this very day the
Parsees curse him for having caused the destruction of the ancient
sacred Persian writings when he captured Persepolis and burnt it.
Later generations of men have differed as to the lasting value of
some of his work, but the name of Alexander, and the story of his
hero-deeds have become a permanent possession of the imagination of
mankind.
[1] From Justin.
[2] Arrian: _Anabasis of Alexander_.
[3] Plutarch: _Life of Demosthenes_.
[4] Plutarch: _Life of Demosthenes_.
[5] Third Philippic.
[6] Second Olynthiac Oration.
[7] On the Crown.
[8] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[9] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[12] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[13] Arrian: _Anabasis of Alexander_.
[14] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[15] Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
[16] Arrian: _Anabasis of Alexander_.
[17] Arrian: _Anabasis of Alexander_.
[18] From Plutarch: _Life of Alexander_.
{358}