with him to Jerusalem. The high priest afterwards read and interpreted
to Alexander some of the prophecies of Daniel, which were supposed to
refer to that conqueror; and Alexander then assured the Jews that they
should be protected in their rights, and especially in their religious
worship.
Alexander next proceeded to the city of Gaza. This was a place of
considerable importance, and was under command of a governor, named
Betis, whom Darius had appointed. This Betis refused to surrender the
place to Alexander; whereupon, he besieged it for two months. Having
captured the city, Alexander treated the wretched captives with extreme
cruelty. He cut the garrison to pieces, and sold the inhabitants into
slavery. Then becoming still more brutal, his punishment of Betis was
most shocking. He ordered him into his presence, and said to him, “You
are not going to die the simple death that you desire. You must suffer
the worst torments that revenge can invent.”
Betis calmly looked at Alexander, without reply. This still more
incensed the cruel conqueror.
“Observe his dumb arrogance,” said Alexander; “but I will conquer him.
I will show him that I can draw groans from him, if nothing else.”
He then ordered holes to be made through the heels of his helpless
victim; and passing a rope through the wounds, commanded the body
to be fastened to a chariot, and dragged about the city until the
poor captive was dead. Thus had prosperity and conquest degraded the
character of Alexander.
Having destroyed Gaza, with such inhuman brutality, Alexander now
formed a more ambitious project. The heroes of Homer were represented
as sons of the gods; and Alexander now began to aspire to supernatural
honors, and accordingly resolved that he should be declared to be the
son of a god. He determined to visit the temple of Jupiter Ammon, in
the Oasis of Siwah, and bribe the priests there to declare his divine
origin.
The priests at the great temple of Jupiter Ammon received Alexander
with marks of distinction and honor. After most solemn and magnificent
ceremonies, the priests, pretending to confer with the god in the
temple, declared that Alexander was indeed his son; and accordingly
they paid him almost divine honors. Alexander, in his subsequent orders
and decrees, styled himself Alexander king, son of Jupiter Ammon.
On his return from the Oasis, Alexander began building a city at the
mouth of the river Nile. This city he called Alexandria. This city
is the only monument of his greatness which still remains. Upon an
island near the coast, opposite the city of Alexandria, a magnificent
lighthouse was erected, which was considered in those days one of the
Seven Wonders of the world. It was said to have been five hundred feet
high.
The building of the city of Alexandria was one of the most beneficent
acts of Alexander. How much better for the world, as well as for
his own true glory, if good deeds had been the rule instead of the
exception in the life of this famous man!
Alexander was now master of Asia Minor, Phœnicia, Judea, and Egypt. He
now continued his pursuit of Darius.
The Persian army had crossed the Tigris river, and encamped upon the
extensive plain of Arbela. Here Darius waited the approach of his
relentless foe.
The night before the noted battle between Alexander and Darius, the
conqueror, who had come within sight of the Persian host, having
completed his arrangements for the morrow’s conflict, retired to rest.
Early in the morning Parmenio awoke him, and expressed surprise at his
sleeping so quietly when such vast issues were at stake. “You seem
as calm,” said he, “as if you had fought the battle and gained the
victory.”
“I have done so,” replied Alexander; “I consider the whole work done,
when we have gained access to Darius, and forced him to give us battle.”
Alexander is thus described as he appeared at the head of the army on
this important occasion. “He wore a short tunic, girt close around him,
and over it a linen breastplate, strongly quilted. The belt by which
the tunic was held was embossed with figures of beautiful workmanship.
Upon his head was a helmet of polished steel, surmounted with a white
plume. He wore also a neck-piece of steel, ornamented with precious
stones; he carried a shield, lance, and sword.”
The Persians employed elephants in their wars. They also had chariots,
armed with long scythes. But the terrible Macedonian phalanx, with
columns of infantry and flying troops of horsemen on either side, cut
through the mighty mass of their enemies with irresistible force. The
elephants turned and fled. The Persian troops were routed, and Darius
himself was obliged to flee. Alexander went to Babylon, where he was
received as a conqueror. The storehouse of the Persian treasures
were at Susa, a strong city east of Babylon. Alexander then marched
to Susa, and took possession of the vast treasures collected there.
Besides these treasures, Alexander here found a number of trophies
which had been brought from Greece by Xerxes, some hundred years
before. Alexander sent them all back to Greece. He then proceeded
in a triumphal march to Persepolis, the great Persian capital. Here
Alexander exhibited another striking instance of wicked weakness. He
was giving a great banquet to his officers. Among the women at this
feast was a vain and foolish woman named Thais. While the guests were
half intoxicated from the effects of wine, this Thais, seizing a
burning torch and waving it above her head, proposed that they should
set fire to the great palace of Persepolis, which had been built by
Xerxes, and amuse themselves by watching the imposing conflagration.
Alexander, flushed with wine, consented; and the drunken guests
sallied forth, alarming the inhabitants with their boisterous shouts
and flaming torches. Arriving at the magnificent palace, they applied
their torches, and the gorgeous structure was soon a frightful mass of
lurid flames. Alexander, sobered by the sublime and awful spectacle,
repented of his wild folly. He ordered the fire to be extinguished; but
it was too late; the infamous deed was done; the grand old palace was a
hopeless mass of ruins, and another blot, which never can be effaced,
tarnished the fame and character of Alexander.
Notwithstanding Alexander’s evil deeds, he was kind to his mother. He
sent her rich presents after his conquests; and though she was proud
and imperious, and made Antipater, whom Alexander had left in command
in Macedon, much trouble, so that Antipater was forced to complain of
her, Alexander said that a single tear of his mother’s would outweigh
ten thousand accusations against her. Olympias, however, did not
repay his devotion with equal nobleness; she wrote frequent letters
to him full of petty fault-finding, and making unkind comments upon
his officers and generals; and though Alexander showed her respect,
he evinced more love towards the mother of Darius, treating her
and the captive children of his foe with the greatest kindness and
consideration. After the battle of Arbela, while Alexander marched to
Babylon and Susa, Darius had fled to Ecbatana. He was thus in one of
the Persian royal palaces, while his family were with his conqueror
at another. The wife of Darius had died before this time, while still
a captive in the Grecian camp. Many of the forces of Darius had gone
over to Alexander’s side, about forty thousand remaining faithful to
him. But among these seeming friends were treacherous foes. A general,
names Bessus, formed the plan of seizing Darius, and making him a
prisoner, and then taking the command of the army himself. If Alexander
should be likely to conquer him, he would then try to save himself
by giving up Darius. If, on the other hand, their forces should be
successful, he would then get Darius out of his way by assassinating
him, and usurping the throne. Bessus communicated his plans to many
of the chief officers, who agreed to become parties in the plot. The
Grecian soldiers in the Persian army revealed this conspiracy to
Darius, but he would not believe in the treachery of his countrymen. As
Alexander advanced, Darius had retreated from Ecbatana, and Alexander
followed him. While halting for rest, a Persian nobleman came into the
Macedonian camp, and informed Alexander that the enemies’ forces were
two days’ march in advance. Bessus was in command, and Darius deposed,
the plot having been successfully carried out. Alexander immediately
set forward in pursuit of Bessus and his royal prisoner. Alexander
had now been two years advancing from Macedon into the heart of Asia,
in pursuit of Darius. His conquest would not be complete until that
monarch was captured. As soon as Bessus and the Persian army found
that Alexander was close upon them, they attempted to hurry forward in
the hope of escaping. Darius was in a chariot. They urged this chariot
on, but it was too cumbersome for rapid flight. Bessus and his chief
conspirators then called upon Darius to mount a horse and escape with
them, leaving the rest of the army to its fate. Darius refused. Having
become convinced of their treachery, he said he would rather trust
himself in the hands of Alexander than to such traitors as they. Bessus
and his confederates, exasperated by this reply, thrust their spears
into Darius’ body as he sat in the chariot, and galloped away. Darius
remained in his chariot, wounded and bleeding. His many sorrows had at
last overwhelmed him. His kingdom was lost; his beloved wife was in
the grave; his family were in captivity; his cities were sacked; his
palaces and treasures plundered; and now, betrayed and abandoned, he
was dying, slain by his treacherous countrymen, whom he had trusted
as his friends. Alone, deserted by all the world, he, the once mighty
monarch of vast dominions, now lay there, faint and bleeding, waiting
the coming of death or his victorious conqueror.
The Macedonians at last discovered the chariot in which Darius was
lying pierced with spears. The floor of the chariot was covered with
blood. They raised him a little, and he spoke; he called for water. A
Macedonian soldier went to get some; others hurried to find Alexander,
and bring him to the spot where his long-pursued enemy was dying. When
the soldier returned with the water, Darius received the drink, and
then said to those about him, “That he charged them to tell Alexander
that he died in his debt, though he had never obliged him; that he gave
him a multitude of thanks for the great humanity he had exercised
towards his wife, mother, and his children, whose lives he had not only
spared, but treated them with the greatest consideration and care,
and had endeavored to make them happy; that he besought the gods to
give victory to his arms, and make him monarch of the universe; that
he thought it was not necessary to entreat him to revenge his murder,
as this was the common cause of kings.” Then taking Polystratus, one
of the Macedonians who had brought him the desired water to relieve
his agonizing thirst, he continued, “Give Alexander thy hand, as I
give thee mine, and carry him in my name the only pledge I am able
to offer,—of my gratitude and affection.” Saying these words, Darius
breathed his last.
Alexander, coming up a moment after, was shocked at the spectacle
before him, and wept bitterly. He then spread his own military cloak
over the dead monarch. Having ordered the body to be embalmed, it was
then enclosed in a costly coffin, and sent to Sysigambis, the mother of
Darius, in order that it might be buried with the ceremonies usually
paid to Persian monarchs, and be entombed with his ancestors.
The Persian generals under Bessus now resolved to betray him, as he
had betrayed his master. They sent word to Alexander that they would
deliver him into his hands if he would send a small force to the place
where they designated. Accordingly this command was entrusted to a
Macedonian officer named Ptolemy, who found Bessus in a small walled
town, to which he had fled for refuge.
When Bessus was brought to Alexander, that monarch ordered the prisoner
to be publicly scourged, and then caused his face to be mutilated in
a manner customary in those days when a criminal was condemned to
be stamped with a perpetual mark of infamy. Alexander then sent the
traitor as a second present to Sysigambis, to be dealt with as her
revenge for the death of Darius might dictate.
After being terribly tortured, the miserable Bessus paid the last
penalty of his crimes by a most shocking death, inflicted upon him by
Sysigambis, to avenge her murdered son.
Alexander was now twenty-six years of age. He was now the undisputed
master of all western Asia. His wealth was boundless, his power was
supreme, but his character was fearfully demoralized. He lived in the
palaces of the Persian kings, and gave himself up to all sorts of
vices. He spent his time in drunken debaucheries. The strong sentiment
of love and respect with which he had formerly inspired all around him
was gone, and conspiracies and treason prevailed. When the suspicions
of Alexander were aroused, he put to death some of his most trusted
officers.
At last there was a conspiracy, in which Philotas, the son of the
faithful Parmenio, was implicated. Being arrested and put to the
torture, Philotas accused his father, in the hopes of saving himself.
Though there was no evidence against that trusty general, Alexander
caused them both to be put to death.
The death of Parmenio and his son, in this violent manner, raised much
unfavorable feeling against Alexander.
Another case exemplifies the wicked deeds of Alexander when under the
influence of wine, and puffed up with vain-glorious pride.
One of his oldest and most faithful generals, named Clitus, was present
at one of the frequent banquets given by Alexander. That monarch,
excited with wine, had been boastfully recounting his own exploits, and
had spoken disparagingly of those of his father Philip in comparison.
Clitus, also heated with wine, began to praise Philip, under whom he
had fought; and then growing bolder, he upbraided Alexander for the
death of Parmenio. Alexander, frenzied with wine and rage, seized a
javelin, hurled it at Clitus, and struck him down, saying, “Go then,
and join Philip and Parmenio.” Alexander, as soon as he came to
himself, was overwhelmed with remorse and shame. He could not, however,
restore Clitus to life, or remove the disgrace from his own name.
Alexander continued for two or three years his expeditions and
conquests in Asia. He penetrated into India as far as the banks of the
Indus. But his soldiers refused to go further. He made an address to
his army, but he could not change their decision. At last one of his
officers said to him:—
“We have done all for you that it was possible for man to do. We have
crossed seas and land. We have marched to the end of the world, and you
are now meditating the conquest of another, by going in search of new
Indias, unknown to the Indians themselves. Such a thought may be worthy
of your courage and resolution, but it surpasses ours, and our strength
still more. Look at these ghastly faces, and these bodies covered with
wounds and scars. Remember how numerous we were when first we set out
with you, and see how few of us remain. The few who have escaped so
many toils and dangers have neither courage nor strength to follow you
any further. They all long to revisit their country and their homes,
and to enjoy for the remainder of their lives the fruits of all their
toils. Forgive them these desires so natural to man.”
Alexander was bitterly disappointed, but found himself obliged to
relinquish further conquest. He returned to Babylon, where his
triumphal entrance was a scene of magnificence and gorgeous splendor.
But his life soon evinced the hopeless degradation into which he had
fallen. He not only indulged in vice himself, but encouraged others
to follow his evil example. He would offer prizes at his banquets to
those who would drink the most, thus causing forty deaths at one of his
entertainments.
Alexander now entered upon a life of the most effeminate luxury and
profligate dissipation. He separated himself more and more from his old
Macedonian friends, and delighted in Persian associates. He married
Statira, the eldest daughter of Darius, and gave the youngest daughter
to his particular friend Hephæstion, who was his chosen companion in
all his drunken revels.
Alexander’s habits of intoxication and vice rapidly increased. On one
occasion, after he had spent a whole night in drinking and carousing,
some of the guests proposed that they should begin a second banquet
instead of retiring.
Alexander half intoxicated, agreed. There were twenty present at this
new feast. Alexander, to show how much he was able to drink, pledged
each one separately, and then all together.
There was a very large cup, called the bowl of Hercules, which he now
called for, and having filled it to the brim, he drank it off, and
again filled the huge bowl, and again drank the entire contents. His
strength soon failed him, and he sank to the floor.
They bore him away to his apartments. A violent fever followed this
terrible debauch, which his physicians in vain tried to allay. At
last, finding he must die, he drew his signet ring off from his finger;
this was the token that he felt all was over. He handed the ring to one
of his friends, saying, “When I am gone, take my body to the temple of
Jupiter Ammon, and inter it there.”
Being asked to whom he left his kingdom, he replied: “To the most
worthy.” Thus died Alexander the Great, at the age of thirty-two.
Preparations were now made to convey his body with royal pomp to its
last resting-place, in accordance with his orders.
A very large and magnificent funeral carriage was built. “The spokes
of the wheels were overlaid with gold, and the axles were adorned upon
the outside with massive golden ornaments. The platform, or floor, of
the carriage was eighteen feet long and twelve feet wide. Upon this
there was erected a magnificent pavilion, supported by Ionic columns,
profusely ornamented, both within and without, with purple and gold.
The interior of the pavilion was resplendent with gems and precious
stones.
“A throne was raised in the centre of the platform, richly carved and
gilded. It was empty; but the crowns of the various nations over which
Alexander had ruled were hung upon it. At the foot of the throne was
the coffin, made of solid gold, containing the remains of the great
conqueror. The arms of Alexander were placed between the throne and the
coffin.
“On the four sides of the carriage were sculptured figures representing
Alexander. There were Macedonian soldiers, Persian squadrons, elephants
of India, troops of horse, and various other emblems of the departed
hero’s conquests, sculptured upon this magnificent funeral carriage.
Around the pavilion was a network of golden lace, to which bells were
attached, which tolled mournfully as the carriage moved slowly along.
Sixty-four mules, selected for their great size, drew this ponderous
car. Their harness was mounted with gold and enriched with precious
stones.”
Notwithstanding all this gorgeous pomp, the body of Alexander never
reached its first destination. Ptolemy, the officer, to whom Egypt was
given in the division of Alexander’s empire, came forth to meet this
solemn procession, and preferring that the body of Alexander should
be buried in the city of Alexandria, it was interred there, and an
imposing monument was erected over his grave. This monument is said to
have remained standing for fifteen hundred years, though no remains of
it are to be found.
The most fitting comment upon the life and character of Alexander the
Great will be found in these brief words of Napoleon Bonaparte, who
said of Alexander: “He commenced his career with the mind of Trajan,
but closed it with the heart of Nero and the morals of Heliogabalus.”
JULIUS CÆSAR.
100-44 B.C.
“The elements
So mix’d in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, This was a man!”
SHAKESPEARE.
THERE was wild tumult in the ancient city of Rome. The populace
thronged the streets, carrying stones and bludgeons. Armed troops
hurried hither and thither. The members of the Senate, a sort of
House of Lords, were assembled in confusion; and their blanched faces
denoted the terror which rendered them powerless to help. Several of
the principal citizens had been murdered, and the other Roman lords,
or patricians, knew not how soon their doom might come. But who was
their terrible foe? Had some wild barbarian horde invaded their land
and taken possession of their proud and magnificent city? Why did the
nobles and men of rank tremble; and why were the common people roused
to this wild outburst of fury?
[Illustration: JULIUS CÆSAR.]
It was no barbarian enemy, but civil discord amongst themselves, which
thus filled the streets with murderers and the patricians with terror.
Two powerful rivals were fighting for the possession of the Eternal
City, which, at that time, was mistress of the world.
Marius, the plebian, or champion of the common people, had roused the
populace to fight against Sylla, the patrician, who had been absent
with his army in Italy. Sylla had been appointed by the Senate to
command the forces which were to wage war with Mithridates, a powerful
Asiatic monarch. But during his absence, his enemy, Marius, had
contrived to have this appointment revoked, and to gain for himself
this coveted command. Two officers, called tribunes, were sent to
Sylla’s camp, to inform him of this advantage which his rival had
gained over him. Sylla killed the two officers for daring to bring him
such a message, and immediately marched towards Rome.
Marius, in retaliation, caused some of Sylla’s friends in the city to
be put to death, and with his bands of soldiers endeavored to resist
the entrance of Sylla and his army by throwing stones upon the troops
from the roofs of the houses as they entered the city. Sylla then
ordered every house to be set on fire, from which missiles had been
thrown, and thus the helpless citizens were endangered by lawless and
infuriated mobs on the one side, and relentless flames on the other.
Marius was conquered, and obliged to flee for his life. He was an old
man of seventy years of age. The Senate declared him a public enemy,
and offered a large sum for his head. Alone and friendless, Marius
wandered from place to place, enduring the greatest privations, and
encountering many dangers, till at last he crossed the Mediterranean
Sea, and took refuge in a poor hut among the ruins of ancient Carthage.
Surely it would seem that his days of conquest were over. Alone,
starving, helpless, old, and banished, with a heavy price set upon his
head, his fortunes seemed indeed hopeless.
Leaving this fallen champion in his hut, amidst the ruins of a past
power which could only remind him of his own hopeless prospects, we
must return to the city of Rome, and look upon another scene.