realm, assumed the ensigns of royalty along with the name which his
father had borne. His people called him Taxiles, for such was the name
which accompanied the sovereignty, on whomsoever it devolved. When,
therefore, he had entertained Alexander for three days with lavish
hospitality, he showed him on the fourth day what quantity of corn he
had supplied to Hephaestion’s troops, and then presented him and all his
friends with golden crowns, and eighty talents besides of coined silver.
Alexander was so exceedingly gratified with this profuse generosity
that he not only sent back to Omphis the presents he had given, but
added a thousand talents from the spoils which he carried, along with
many banqueting vessels of gold and silver, a vast quantity of Persian
drapery, and thirty chargers from his own stalls, caparisoned as when
ridden by himself.
This liberality, while it bound the barbarian to his interests, gave
at the same time the deepest offence to his own friends. One of
them, Meleager, who had taken too much wine at supper, said that he
congratulated Alexander on having found in India, if nowhere else, some
one worthy of a thousand talents. The king, who had not forgotten what
remorse he had suffered when he killed Clitus for audacity of speech,
controlled his temper, but remarked that envious persons were nothing but
their own tormentors.
_Chapter XIII.—Alexander and Porus confront each other on opposite banks
of the Hydaspes_
On the following day envoys from Abisares reached the king, and, as they
had been instructed, surrendered to him all that their master possessed.
After pledges of good faith had been interchanged, they were sent back
to their sovereign. Alexander, thinking that by the mere prestige of
his name Porus also would be induced to surrender, sent Cleochares
to tell him in peremptory terms that he must pay tribute and come to
meet his sovereign at the very frontiers of his own dominions. Porus
answered that he would comply with the second of these demands, and when
Alexander entered his realm he would meet him, but come armed for battle.
Alexander had now resolved to cross the Hydaspes, when Barzaentes, who
had instigated the Arachosians to revolt, was brought to him in chains,
along with thirty captured elephants, an opportune reinforcement against
the Indians, since these huge beasts more than the soldiery constituted
the hope and main strength of an Indian army.
Samaxus was also brought in chains, the king of a small Indian state,
who had espoused the cause of Barzaentes. Alexander having then put the
traitor and his accomplice under custody, and consigned the elephants to
the care of Taxiles, advanced till he reached the river Hydaspes, where
on the further bank Porus had encamped to prevent the enemy from landing.
In the van of his army he had posted 85 elephants of the greatest size
and strength, and behind these 300 chariots and somewhere about 30,000
infantry, among whom were the archers, whose arrows, as already stated,
were too ponderous to be readily discharged. He was himself mounted
on an elephant which towered above all its fellows, while his armour,
embellished with gold and silver, set off his supremely majestic person
to great advantage. His courage matched his bodily vigour, and his wisdom
was the utmost attainable in a rude community.
The Macedonians were intimidated not only by the appearance of the enemy,
but by the magnitude of the river to be crossed, which, spreading out
to a width of no less than four stadia in a deep channel which nowhere
opened a passage by fords, presented the aspect of a vast sea. Yet its
rapidity did not diminish in proportion to its wider diffusion, but it
rushed impetuously like a seething torrent compressed into a narrow bed
by the closing in of its banks. Besides, at many points the presence of
sunken rocks was revealed where the waves were driven back in eddies.
The bank presented a still more formidable aspect, for, as far as the
eye could see, it was covered with cavalry and infantry, in the midst of
which, like so many massive structures, stood the huge elephants, which,
being of set purpose provoked by their drivers, distressed the ear with
their frightful roars. The enemy and the river both in their front,
struck with sudden dismay the hearts of the Macedonians, disposed though
they were to entertain good hopes, and knowing from experience against
what fearful odds they had ere now contended. They could not believe that
boats so unhandy could be steered to the bank or gain it in safety. In
the middle of the river were numerous islands to which both the Indians
and Macedonians began to swim over, holding their weapons above their
heads. Here they would engage in skirmishes, while each king endeavoured
from the result of these minor conflicts to gauge the issue of the final
struggle. In the Macedonian army were Symmachus and Nicanor, both young
men of noble lineage, distinguished for their hardihood and enterprise,
and from the uniform success of their side in whatever they assayed,
inspired with a contempt for every kind of danger. Led by these, a party
of the boldest youths, equipped with nothing but lances, swam over to the
island when it was occupied by crowds of the enemy.
Armed with audacious courage, the best of all weapons, they slew many
of the Indians, and might have retired with glory if temerity when
successful could ever keep within bounds. But while with contempt and
pride they waited till succours reached the enemy, they were surrounded
by men who had unperceived swum over to the island, and were overthrown
by discharges of missiles. Such as escaped the enemy were either swept
away by the force of the current or swallowed up in its eddies. This
fight exalted the confidence of Porus, who had witnessed from the bank
all its vicissitudes.
Alexander, perplexed how to cross the river, at last devised a plan
for duping the enemy. In the river lay an island larger than the rest,
wooded and suitable for concealing an ambuscade. A deep hollow, moreover,
which lay not far from the bank in his own occupation, was capable of
hiding not only foot-soldiers but mounted cavalry. To divert, therefore,
the attention of the enemy from a place possessing such advantages, he
ordered Ptolemy with all his squadrons of horse to ride up and down at
a distance from the island in view of the enemy, and now and then to
alarm the Indians by shouting, as if he meant to make the passage of
the river.[244] For several days Ptolemy repeated this feint, and thus
obliged Porus to concentrate his troops at the point which he pretended
to threaten.
The island was now beyond view of the enemy.[245] Alexander then gave
orders that his own tent should be pitched on a part of the bank looking
the other way, that the guard of honour which usually attended him should
be posted before it, and that all the pageantry of royal state should
be paraded before the eyes of the enemy on purpose to deceive them. He
besides requested Attalus, who was about his own age, and not unlike him
in form and feature, especially when seen from a distance, to wear the
royal mantle, and so make it appear as if the king in person was guarding
that part of the bank without any intention of crossing the river. The
state of the weather at first hindered, but afterwards favoured, the
execution of this design, fortune making even untoward circumstances turn
out to his ultimate advantage. For when the enemy was busy watching the
troops under Ptolemy which occupied the bank lower down, and Alexander
with the rest of his forces was making ready to cross the river and reach
the land over against the island already mentioned, a storm poured down
torrents of rain, against which even those under cover could scarcely
protect themselves. The soldiers, overcome by the fury of the elements,
deserted the boats and ships, and fled back for safety to land, but the
din occasioned by their hurry and confusion could not be heard by the
enemy amid the roar of the tempest. All of a sudden the rain then ceased,
but clouds so dense overspread the sky that they hid the light, and made
it scarcely possible for men conversing together to see each other’s
faces.
Any other leader but Alexander would have been appalled by the darkness
drawn over the face of heaven just when he was starting on a voyage
across an unknown river, with the enemy perhaps guarding the very bank
to which his men were blindly and imprudently directing their course.
But the king deriving glory from danger and regarding the darkness
which terrified others as his opportunity, gave the signal that all
should embark in silence, and ordered that the galley which carried
himself should be the first to be run aground on the other side. The
bank, however, towards which they steered was not occupied by the enemy,
for Porus was in fact still intently watching Ptolemy only. Hence all
the ships made the passage in safety except just one, which stuck on a
rock whither it had been driven by the wind. Alexander then ordered the
soldiers to take their arms and to fall into their ranks.
_Chapter XIV.—Battle with Porus on the left bank of the Hydaspes—Porus
being defeated surrenders_
He was already in full march at the head of his army, which he had
divided into two columns, when the tidings reached Porus that the bank
was occupied by a military force, and that the crisis of his fortunes
was now imminent. In keeping with the infirmity of our nature, which
makes us ever hope the best, he at first indulged the belief that this
was his ally Abisares come to help him in the war as had been agreed
upon. But soon after, when the sky had become clearer, and showed the
ranks to be those of the enemy, he sent 100 chariots and 4000 horse
to obstruct their advance. The command of this detachment he gave to
his brother Hages.[246] Its main strength lay in the chariots, each of
which was drawn by four horses and carried six men, of whom two were
shield-bearers, two, archers posted on each side of the chariot, and the
other two, charioteers, as well as men-at-arms, for when the fighting
was at close-quarters they dropped the reins and hurled dart after dart
against the enemy.
But on this particular day these chariots proved to be scarcely of
any service, for the storm of rain, which, as already said, was of
extraordinary violence, had made the ground slippery, and unfit for
horses to ride over, while the chariots kept sticking in the muddy
sloughs formed by the rain, and proved almost immovable from their
great weight. Alexander, on the other hand, charged with the utmost
vigour, because his troops were lightly armed and unencumbered. The
Scythians and Dahae first of all attacked the Indians, and then the king
launched Perdiccas with his horse upon their right wing. The fighting
had now become hot everywhere, when the drivers of the chariots rode
at full speed into the midst of the battle, thinking they could thus
most effectively succour their friends. It would be hard to say which
side suffered most from this charge, for the Macedonian foot-soldiers,
who were exposed to the first shock of the onset, were trampled down,
while the charioteers were hurled from their seats, when the chariots in
rushing into action jolted over broken and slippery ground. Some again of
the horses took fright and precipitated the carriages not only into the
sloughs and pools of water, but even into the river itself.
A few which were driven off the field by the darts of the enemy made
their way to Porus, who was making most energetic preparations for the
contest. As soon as he saw his chariots scattered amid his ranks, and
wandering about without their drivers, he distributed his elephants to
his friends who were nearest him. Behind them he had posted the infantry
and the archers and the men who beat the drums, the instruments which the
Indians use instead of trumpets to produce their war music. The rattle
of these instruments does not in the least alarm the elephants, their
ears, through long familiarity, being deadened to the sound. An image
of Hercules was borne in front of the line of infantry, and this acted
as the strongest of all incentives to make the soldiers fight well. To
desert the bearers of this image was reckoned a disgraceful military
offence, and they had even ordained death as a penalty for those who
failed to bring it back from the battlefield, for the dread which the
Indians had conceived for the god when he was their enemy had been toned
down to a feeling of religious awe and veneration.
The sight not only of the huge beasts, but even of Porus himself, made
the Macedonians pause for a time, for the beasts, which had been placed
at intervals between the armed ranks, presented, when seen from a
distance, the appearance of towers, and Porus himself not only surpassed
the standard of height to which we conceive the human figure to be
limited, but, besides this, the elephant on which he was mounted seemed
to add to his proportions, for it towered over all the other elephants
even as Porus himself stood taller than other men. Hence Alexander, after
attentively viewing the king and the army of the Indians, remarked to
those near him, “I see at last a danger that matches my courage. It is
at once with wild beasts and men of uncommon mettle that the contest now
lies.” Then turning to Coenus, “When I,” he said, “along with Ptolemy,
Perdiccas, and Hephaestion, have fallen upon the enemy’s left wing, and
you see me in the heat of the conflict, do you then advance the right
wing,[247] and charge the enemy when their ranks begin to waver. And you,
sirs,” he added, turning to Antigenes, Leonnatus, and Tauron, “must bear
down upon their centre, and press them hard in front. The formidable
length and strength of our pikes will never be so useful as when they are
directed against these huge beasts and their drivers. Hurl, then, their
riders to the ground, and stab the beasts themselves. Their assistance
is not of a kind to be depended on, and they may do their own side more
damage than ours, for they are driven against the enemy by constraint,
while terror turns them against their own ranks.”
Having spoken thus he was the first to put spurs to his horse. And
now, as had been arranged, Coenus, upon seeing that Alexander was at
close-quarters with the enemy, threw his cavalry with great fury upon
their left wing. The phalanx besides, at the first onset, broke through
the centre of the Indians. But Porus ordered his elephants to be driven
into action where he had seen cavalry charging his ranks. The slow-footed
unwieldy animals, however, were unfitted to cope with the rapid movements
of horses, and the barbarians were besides unable to use even their
arrows. These weapons were really so long and heavy that the archers
could not readily adjust them on the string unless by first resting their
bow upon the ground. Then, as the ground was slippery and hindered their
efforts, the enemy had time to charge them before they could deliver
their blows.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.—INDIAN BOWMAN.]
The king’s authority was in these circumstances unheeded, and, as usually
happens when the ranks are broken, and fear begins to dictate orders
more peremptorily than the general himself, as many took the command
upon themselves as there were scattered bodies of troops. Some proposed
that these bodies should unite, others that they should form separate
detachments, some that they should wait to be attacked, others that they
should wheel round and charge the enemy in the rear. No common plan of
action was after all concerted. Porus, however, with a few friends in
whom the sense of honour was stronger than fear, rallied his scattered
forces, and marching in front of his line advanced against the enemy with
the elephants. These animals inspired great terror, and their strange
dissonant cries frightened not only the horses, which shy at everything,
but the men also, and disordered the ranks, so that those who just
before were victorious began now to look round them for a place to which
they could flee. Alexander thereupon despatched against the elephants the
lightly-armed Agrianians and the Thracians, troops more serviceable in
skirmishing than in close combat. They assailed the elephants and their
drivers with a furious storm of missiles, and the phalanx, on seeing the
resulting terror and confusion, steadily pressed forward.
Some, however, by pursuing too eagerly, so irritated the animals
with wounds that they turned their rage upon them, and they were in
consequence trampled to death under their feet, thus warning others to
attack them with greater caution. The most dismal of all sights was when
the elephants would, with their trunks, grasp the men, arms and all, and
hoisting them above their heads, deliver them over into the hands of
their drivers. Thus the battle was doubtful, the Macedonians sometimes
pursuing and sometimes fleeing from the elephants, so that the struggle
was prolonged till the day was far spent. Then they began to hack the
feet of the beasts with axes which they had prepared for the purpose,
having besides a kind of sword somewhat curved like a scythe, and called
a chopper, wherewith they aimed at their trunks. In fact, their fear of
the animals led them not only to leave no means untried for killing them,
but even for killing them with unheard-of forms of cruelty.
Hence the elephants, being at last spent with wounds, spread havoc among
their own ranks, and threw their drivers to the ground, who were then
trampled to death by their own beasts. They were therefore driven from
the field of battle like a flock of sheep, as they were maddened with
terror rather than vicious. Porus, meanwhile, being left in the lurch by
the majority of his men, began to hurl from his elephant the darts with
which he had beforehand provided himself, and while many were wounded
from afar by his shot he was himself exposed as a butt for blows from
every quarter. He had already received nine wounds before and behind,
and became so faint from the great loss of blood that the darts were
dropped rather than flung from his feeble hands. But his elephant, waxing
furious though not yet wounded, kept charging the ranks of the enemy
until the driver, perceiving the king’s condition—his limbs failing
him, his weapons dropping from his grasp, and his consciousness almost
gone—turned the beast round and fled.
Alexander pursued, but his horse being pierced with many wounds fainted
under him, and sank to the ground, laying the king down gently rather
than throwing him from his seat.[248] The necessity of changing his horse
retarded of course his pursuit. In the meantime the brother of Taxiles,
the Indian King whom Alexander had sent on before, advised Porus not to
persist in holding out to the last extremity, but to surrender himself to
the conqueror.[249] Porus, however, though his strength was exhausted,
and his blood nearly spent, yet roused himself at the well-known voice,
and said, “I recognise the brother of Taxiles, who gave up his throne and
kingdom.” Therewith he flung at him the one dart that had not slipped
from his grasp, and flung it too with such force that it pierced right
through his back to his chest.[250] Having roused himself to this last
effort of valour, he began to flee faster than before, but his elephant,
which had by this time received many wounds, was now, like himself, quite
exhausted, so that he stopped the flight, and made head against the
pursuers with his remaining infantry.
Alexander had now come up, and knowing how obstinate Porus was, forbade
quarter to be given to those who resisted.[251] The infantry therefore,
and Porus himself, were assailed with darts from all points, and as he
could no longer bear up against them he began to slip from his elephant.
The Indian driver, thinking the king wished to alight, made the elephant
kneel down in the usual manner. On seeing this the other elephants also
knelt down, for they had been trained to lower themselves when the royal
elephant did so. Porus and his men were thus placed entirely at the mercy
of the conqueror. Alexander, supposing that he was dead, ordered his body
to be stripped,[252] and men then ran forward to take off his breastplate
and robes, when the elephant turned upon them in defence of its master,
and lifting him up placed him once more on its back.
Upon this the animal was on all sides overwhelmed with darts, and when
it was stabbed to death, Porus was placed upon a waggon. But the king
perceiving him to lift up his eyes, forgot all animosity, and being
deeply moved with pity, said to him, “What the plague! what madness
induced you to try the fortune of war with me, of whose exploits you have
heard the fame, especially when in Taxiles you had a near example of my
clemency to those who submit to me?” He answered thus: “Since you propose
a question, I shall answer with the freedom which you grant by asking
it. I used to think there was no one braver than myself, for I knew my
own strength, but had not yet experienced thine. The result of the war
has taught me that you are the braver man, but even in ranking next to
you, I consider myself to be highly fortunate.” Being asked again how he
thought the victor should treat him, “in accordance,” he replied, “with
the lesson which this day teaches—a day in which you have witnessed how
readily prosperity can be blasted.”
By giving this admonition he gained more than if he had resorted to
entreaty, for Alexander, in consideration of the greatness of his
courage which scorned all fear, and which adversity could not break
down, extended pity to his misfortunes and honour to his merits.[253] He
ordered his wounds to be as carefully attended to as if he had fought in
his service, and when he had recovered strength, he admitted him into
the number of his friends, and soon after presented him with a larger
kingdom than that which he had.[254] And in truth his nature had no more
essential or more permanent quality than a high respect for true merit
and renown; but he estimated more candidly and impartially glory in an
enemy than in a subject. In fact, he thought that the fabric of his
fame might be pulled down by his own people, while it could but receive
enhanced lustre the greater those were whom he vanquished.
NINTH BOOK
_Chapter I.—Alexander’s speech to his soldiers after the victory—Abisares
sends him an embassy_
Alexander rejoicing in a victory so memorable, which led him to believe
that the East to its utmost limits had been opened up to his arms,
sacrificed to the sun,[255] and having also summoned the soldiers to a
general meeting, he praised them for their services, that they might with
the greater alacrity undertake the wars that yet remained. He pointed
out to them that all power of opposition on the part of the Indians had
been quite overthrown in the battle just fought. What now remained for
them was a noble spoil. The much-rumoured riches of the East abounded
in those very regions, to which their steps were now bent. The spoils
accordingly which they had taken from the Persians had now become cheap
and common. They were going to fill with pearls, precious stones, gold,
and ivory, not only their private abodes, but all Macedonia and Greece.
The soldiers who coveted money as well as glory, and who had never known
his promises to fail, on hearing all this, readily placed their services
at his command. He sent them away full of good hope, and ordered ships to
be built in order that when he had overrun all Asia, he might be able to
visit the sea which formed the boundary of the world.