THE LAST CAMPAIGN OF PYRRHUS.
B.C. 272
Pyrrhus makes preparations for his campaign.--Pyrrhus's
designs.--Excitement in Greece.--Pyrrhus's army advances toward
Sparta.--Embassadors.--Pyrrhus arrives at Sparta.--He postpones
the attack.--Plans of the Spartans.--They propose to remove
the women.--The women send a delegation into the
senate-chamber.--Preparations for receiving Cleonymus.--His
wife.--The Spartans resolve to attack Pyrrhus in the morning.--Ditch
dug.--Ramparts raised.--The labors of the women.--Digging the
trench.--Citizens at work all night.--The women assist.--Effect of
the trench.--The wagons.--Ptolemy, the son of Pyrrhus, removes the
wagons.--The triumph of Acrotatus.--Pyrrhus's dream.--The dream
produces no effect.--Pyrrhus tries another plan.--The battle.--Work
of the women.--Pyrrhus leads the troops forward.--Pyrrhus's horse is
wounded.--Pyrrhus himself in great danger.--The army retires.--Areus
and Acrotatus.--Areus comes to succor the city.--Pyrrhus receives
a new invitation.--Argos.--Pyrrhus leaves Sparta, and is
pursued.--Death of Ptolemy.--Combat with Evalcus.--Pyrrhus's
revenge.--Pyrrhus before the walls of Argos.--A stratagem.--Attempt
of the elephants to enter the city.--Consternation of the
inhabitants of Argos.--Confusion of the soldiers.--Pyrrhus waits
for morning.--The bronze statue.--Ancient prophecy.--Pyrrhus's
alarm.--He resolves to retreat from the city.--Pyrrhus finds the
streets blocked up.--Dreadful confusion.--The fallen elephant in the
gateway.--Pyrrhus is greatly alarmed.--He lays aside his plume.--He
is struck by a tile thrown down upon him.--His dreadful death.--The
head borne away.--Summary of Pyrrhus's character.--Conclusion.
Immediately on receiving the invitation of Cleonymus, Pyrrhus
commenced making preparations on a very extensive scale for the
intended campaign. He gathered all the troops that he could command,
both from Macedon and Epirus. He levied taxes and contributions,
provided military stores of every kind, and entered into all the other
arrangements required for such an enterprise. These preliminary
operations required a considerable time, so that he was not ready to
commence his march until the following year. When all was ready, he
found that his force consisted of twenty-five thousand foot, two
thousand horse, and a troop of twenty-four elephants. He had two sons,
neither of whom, it would seem, was old enough to be intrusted with
the command, either in Macedon or Epirus, during his absence, and he
accordingly determined to take them with him. Their names were Ptolemy
and Helenus. Pyrrhus himself at this time was about forty-five years
of age.
Although in this expedition Cleonymus supposed that Pyrrhus was going
into Greece only as his ally, and that the sole object of the war was
to depose Areus and place Cleonymus on the throne in his stead,
Pyrrhus himself entertained far different designs. His intention was,
while invading the country in Cleonymus's name, to overrun and conquer
it all, with a view of adding it to his own dominions. Of course, he
gave no intimation to Cleonymus that he entertained any such designs.
The approach of Pyrrhus naturally produced great excitement and
commotion in Sparta. His fame as a military commander was known
throughout the world; and the invasion of their country by such a
conqueror, at the head of so large a force, was calculated to awaken
great alarm among the people. The Spartans, however, were not much
accustomed to be alarmed. They immediately began to make preparations
to defend themselves. They sent forward an embassage to meet Pyrrhus
on the way, and demand wherefore he was coming. Pyrrhus made evasive
and dishonest replies. He was not intending, he said, to commit any
hostilities against Sparta. His business was with certain other
cities of the Peloponnesus, which had been for some time under a
foreign yoke, and which he was now coming to free. The Spartans were
not deceived by these protestations, but time was gained, and this was
Pyrrhus's design.
His army continued to advance, and in its progress began to seize and
plunder towns belonging to the Spartan territory. The Spartans sent
embassadors again, demanding what these proceedings meant. The
embassadors charged it upon Pyrrhus, that, contrary to the laws and
usages of nations, he was making war upon them without having
previously declared war.
"And do you Spartans," said Pyrrhus, in reply, "always tell the world
whatever you are going to do before you do it?" Such a rejoinder was
virtually acknowledging that the object of the expedition was an
attack on Sparta itself. The embassadors so understood it, and bid the
invader defiance.
"Let there be war, then," said they, "if you will have it so. We do
not fear you, whether you are a god or a man. If you are a god, you
will not be disposed to do us any injury, for we have never injured
you. If you are a man, you can not harm us, for we can produce men in
Sparta able to meet any other man whatever."
The embassadors then returned to Sparta, and the people immediately
pushed forward with all diligence their preparations for putting the
city in an attitude of defense.
Pyrrhus continued his march, and at length, toward evening, approached
the walls of the city. Cleonymus, who knew well what sort of enemies
they had to deal with, urgently recommended that an assault should be
made that night, supposing that the Spartans would succeed in making
additional defenses if the attack were postponed until the morning.
Pyrrhus, however, was disposed not to make the attack until the
following day. He felt perfectly sure of his prize, and was,
accordingly, in no haste to seize it. He thought, it was said, that if
the attack were made in the night, the soldiers would plunder the
city, and thus he should lose a considerable part of the booty which
he hoped otherwise to secure for himself. He could control them better
in the daytime. He accordingly determined to remain in his camp,
without the city, during the night, and to advance to the assault in
the morning. So he ordered the tents to be pitched on the plain, and
sat quietly down.
In the mean time, great activity prevailed within the walls. The
senate was convened, and was engaged in debating and deciding the
various questions that necessarily arise in such an emergency. A plan
was proposed for removing the women from the city, in order to save
them from the terrible fate which would inevitably await them, should
the army of Pyrrhus be successful on the following day. It was thought
that they might go out secretly on the side opposite to that on which
Pyrrhus was encamped, and thence be conducted to the sea-shore, where
they might be conveyed in ships and galleys to the island of Crete,
which, as will appear from the map, was situated at no great distance
from the Spartan coast. By this means the mothers and daughters, it
was thought, would be saved, whatever might be the fate of the
husbands and brothers. The news that the senate were discussing such a
plan as this was soon spread abroad among the people. The women were
aroused to the most strenuous opposition against this plan. They
declared that they never would seek safety for themselves by going
away, and leaving their fathers, husbands, and brothers in such
danger. They commissioned one of their number, a princess named
Archidamia, to make known to the senate the views which they
entertained of this proposal. Archidamia went boldly into the
senate-chamber, with a drawn sword in her hand, and there arrested the
discussion in which the senators were engaged by demanding how they
could entertain such an opinion of the women of Sparta as to suppose
that they could survive the destruction of the city and the death of
all whom they loved. They did not wish to be saved, she said, unless
all could be saved together; and she implored the senate to abandon at
once all ideas of sending them away, and allow them, instead, to take
their share in the necessary labors required for the defense of the
city. The senate yielded to this appeal, and, abandoning the design
which they had entertained of sending the women away, turned their
attention immediately to plans of defense.
While these earnest consultations and discussions were going on in the
senate, and in the streets and dwellings of the city, there was one
place which presented a scene of excitement of a very different
kind--namely, the palace of Cleonymus. There all were in a state of
eager anticipation, expecting the speedy arrival of their master. The
domestics believed confidently that an attack would be made upon the
city that night by the combined army of Cleonymus and Pyrrhus; and
presuming that it would be successful, they supposed that their
master, as soon as the troops should obtain possession of the city,
would come home at once to his own house, bringing his distinguished
ally with him. They busied themselves, therefore, in adorning and
preparing the apartments of the house, and in making ready a splendid
entertainment, in order that they might give to Cleonymus and his
friend a suitable reception when they should arrive.
Chelidonis, however, the young and beautiful, but faithless wife of
Cleonymus, was not there. She had long since left her husband's
dwelling, and now she was full of suspense and anxiety in respect to
his threatened return. If the city should be taken, she knew very well
that she must necessarily fall again into her husband's power, and she
determined that she never would fall into his power again alive. So
she retired to her apartment, and there putting a rope around her
neck, and making all other necessary preparations, she awaited the
issue of the battle, resolved to destroy herself the moment she should
hear tidings that Pyrrhus had gained the victory.
In the mean time, the military leaders of the Spartans were engaged in
strengthening the defenses, and in making all the necessary
preparations for the ensuing conflict. They did not, however, intend
to remain within the city, and await the attack of the assailants
there. With the characteristic fearlessness of the Spartan character,
they determined, when they found that Pyrrhus was not intending to
attack the city that night, that they would themselves go out to meet
him in the morning.
One reason, however, for this determination doubtless was, that the
city was not shut in with substantial walls and defenses, like most of
the other cities of Greece, as it was a matter of pride with the
Spartans to rely on their own personal strength and courage for
protection, rather than on artificial bulwarks and towers. Still, such
artificial aids were not wholly despised, and they now determined to
do what was in their power in this respect, by throwing up a rampart
of earth, under cover of the darkness of the night, along the line
over which the enemy must march in attacking the city. This work was
accordingly begun. They would not, however, employ the soldiers in the
work, or any strong and able-bodied men capable of bearing arms. They
wished to reserve the strength of all these for the more urgent and
dreadful work of the following day. The ditch was accordingly dug, and
the ramparts raised by the boys, the old men, and especially by the
women. The women of all ranks in the city went out and toiled all
night at this labor, having laid aside half their clothes, that their
robes might not hinder them in the digging. The reader, however, must
not, in his imagination, invest these fair laborers with the delicate
forms, and gentle manners, and timid hearts which are generally deemed
characteristic of women, for the Spartan females were trained
expressly, from their earliest life, to the most rough and bold
exposures and toils. They were inured from infancy to hardihood, by
being taught to contend in public wrestlings and games, to endure
every species of fatigue and exposure, and to despise every thing like
gentleness and delicacy. In a word, they were little less masculine in
appearance and manners than the men; and accordingly, when Archidamia
went into the senate-chamber with a drawn sword in her hand, and
there, boldly facing the whole assembly, declared that the women would
on no account consent to leave the city, she acted in a manner not at
all inconsistent with what at Sparta was considered the proper
position and character of her sex. In a word, the Spartan women were
as bold and stern, and almost as formidable, as the men.
All night long the work of excavation went on. Those who were too
young or too feeble to work were employed in going to and fro,
carrying tools where they were required, or bringing food and drink to
those who were digging in the trench, while the soldiers remained
quietly at rest within the city, awaiting the duties which were to
devolve upon them in the morning. The trench was made wide and deep
enough to impede the passage of the elephants and of the cavalry, and
it was guarded at the ends by wagons, the wheels of which were half
buried in the ground at the places chosen for them, in order to render
them immovable. All this work was performed in such silence and
secrecy that it met with no interruption from Pyrrhus's camp, and the
whole was completed before the morning dawned.
As soon as it began to be light, the camp of Pyrrhus was in motion.
All was excitement and commotion, too, within the city. The soldiers
assumed their arms and formed in array. The women gathered around
them while they were making these preparations, assisting them to
buckle on their armor, and animating them with words of sympathy and
encouragement. "How glorious it will be for you," said they, "to gain
a victory here in the precincts of the city, where we can all witness
and enjoy your triumph; and even if you fall in the contest, your
mothers and your wives are close at hand to receive you to their arms,
and to soothe and sustain you in your dying struggles!"
When all was ready, the men marched forth to meet the advancing
columns of Pyrrhus's army, and the battle soon began. Pyrrhus soon
found that the trench which the Spartans had dug in the night was
destined greatly to obstruct his intended operations. The horse and
the elephants could not cross it at all; and even the men, if they
succeeded in getting over the ditch, were driven back when attempting
to ascend the rampart of earth which had been formed along the side of
it, by the earth thrown up in making the excavation, for this earth
was loose and steep, and afforded them no footing. Various attempts
were made to dislodge the wagons that had been fixed into the ground
at the ends of the trench, but for a time all these efforts were
fruitless. At last, however, Ptolemy, the son of Pyrrhus, came very
near succeeding. He had the command of a force of about two thousand
Gauls, and with this body he made a circuit, so as to come upon the
line of wagons in such a manner as to give him a great advantage in
attacking them. The Spartans fought very resolutely in defense of
them; but the Gauls gradually prevailed, and at length succeeded in
dragging several of the wagons up out of the earth. All that they thus
extricated they drew off out of the way, and threw them into the
river.
Seeing this, young Acrotatus, the prince whom Areus his father, now
absent, as the reader will recollect, in Crete, had left in command in
Sparta when he went away, hastened to interpose. He placed himself at
the head of a small band of two or three hundred men, and, crossing
the city on the other side, he went unobserved, and then, making a
circuit, came round and attacked the Gauls, who were at work on the
wagons in the rear. As the Gauls had already a foe in front nearly
strong enough to cope with them, this sudden assault from behind
entirely turned the scale. They were driven away in great confusion.
This feat being accomplished, Acrotatus came back at the head of his
detachment into the city, panting and exhausted with the exertions he
had made, and covered with blood. He was received there with the
loudest applause and acclamations. The women gathered around him, and
overwhelmed him with thanks and congratulations. "Go to Chelidonis,"
said they, "and rest. She ought to be yours. You have deserved her.
How we envy her such a lover!"
The contest continued all the day, and when night came on Pyrrhus
found that he had made no sensible progress in the work of gaining
entrance into the city. He was, however, now forced to postpone all
further efforts till the following day. At the proper time he retired
to rest, but he awoke very early in the morning in a state of great
excitement; and, calling up some of the officers around him, he
related to them a remarkable dream which he had had during the night,
and which, he thought, presaged success to the efforts which they were
to make on the following day. He had seen, he said, in his dream, a
flash of lightning dart from the sky upon Sparta, and set the whole
city on fire. This, he argued, was a divine omen which promised them
certain success; and he called upon the generals to marshal the
troops and prepare for the onset, saying, "We are sure of victory
now."
Whether Pyrrhus really had had such a dream, or whether he fabricated
the story for the purpose of inspiring anew the courage and confidence
of his men, which, as would naturally be supposed, might have been
somewhat weakened by the ill success of the preceding day, can not be
absolutely ascertained. Whichever it was, it failed wholly of its
intended effect. Pyrrhus's generals said, in reply, that the omen was
adverse, and not propitious, for it was one of the fundamental
principles of haruspicial science that lightning made sacred whatever
it touched. It was forbidden even to step upon the ground where a
thunder-bolt had fallen; and they ought to consider, therefore, that
the descent of the lightning upon Sparta, as figured to Pyrrhus in the
dream, was intended to mark the city as under the special protection
of heaven, and to warn the invaders not to molest it. Finding thus
that the story of his vision produced a different effect from the one
he had intended, Pyrrhus changed his ground, and told his generals
that no importance whatever was to be attached to visions and dreams.
They might serve, he argued, very well to amuse the ignorant and
superstitious, but wise men should be entirely above being influenced
by them in any way. "You have something better than these things to
trust in," said he. "You have arms in your hands, and you have Pyrrhus
for your leader. This is proof enough for you that you are destined to
conquer."
How far these assurances were found effectual in animating the courage
of the generals we do not know; but the result did not at all confirm
Pyrrhus's vain-glorious predictions. During the first part of the day,
indeed, he made great progress, and for a time it appeared probable
that the city was about to fall into his hands. The plan of his
operations was first to fill up the ditch which the Spartans had made;
the soldiers throwing into it for this purpose great quantities of
materials of every kind, such as earth, stones, fagots, trunks of
trees, and whatever came most readily to hand. They used in this work
immense quantities of dead bodies, which they found scattered over the
plain, the results of the conflict of the preceding day. By means of
the horrid bridging thus made, the troops attempted to make their way
across the ditch, while the Spartans, formed on the top of the
rampart of earth on the inner side of it, fought desperately to repel
them. All this time the women were passing back and forth between them
and the city, bringing out water and refreshments to sustain the
fainting strength of the men, and carrying home the wounded and dying,
and the bodies of the dead.
[Illustration: THE CHARGE.]
At last a considerable body of troops, consisting of a division that
was under the personal charge of Pyrrhus himself, succeeded in
breaking through the Spartan lines, at a point near one end of the
rampart which had been thrown up. When the men found that they had
forced their way through, they raised loud shouts of exultation and
triumph, and immediately rushed forward toward the city. For a moment
it seemed that for the Spartans all was lost; but the tide of victory
was soon suddenly turned by a very unexpected incident. An arrow
pierced the breast of the horse on which Pyrrhus was riding, and gave
the animal a fatal wound. The horse plunged and reared in his agony
and terror, and then fell, throwing Pyrrhus to the ground. This
occurrence, of course, arrested the whole troop in their progress. The
horsemen wheeled suddenly about, and gathered around Pyrrhus to rescue
him from his danger. This gave the Spartans time to rally, and to
bring up their forces in such numbers that the Macedonian soldiers
were glad to be able to make their way back again, bearing Pyrrhus
with them beyond the lines. After recovering a little from the
agitation produced by this adventure, Pyrrhus found that his troops,
discouraged, apparently, by the fruitlessness of their efforts, and
especially by this last misfortune, were beginning to lose their
spirit and ardor, and were fighting feebly and falteringly all along
the line. He concluded, therefore, that there was no longer any
prospect of accomplishing his object that day, and that it would be
better to save the remaining strength of his troops by withdrawing
them from the field, rather than to discourage and enfeeble them still
more by continuing what was now very clearly a useless struggle. He
accordingly put a stop to the action, and the army retired to their
encampment.
Before he had opportunity to make a third attempt, events occurred
which entirely changed the whole aspect of the controversy. The reader
will recollect that Areus, the king of Sparta, was absent in Crete at
the time of Pyrrhus's arrival, and that the command of the army
devolved, during his absence, on Acrotatus, his son; for the kings of
the other line, for some reason or other, took a very small part in
the public affairs of the city at this time, and are seldom mentioned
in history. Areus, as soon as he heard of the Macedonian invasion,
immediately collected a large force and set out on his return to
Sparta, and he entered into the city at the head of two thousand men
just after the second repulse which Acrotatus had given to their
enemies. At the same time, too, another body of re-enforcements came
in from Corinth, consisting of allies of the Spartans, gathered from
the northern part of the Peloponnesus. The arrival of these troops in
the city filled the Spartans with joy, and entirely dispelled their
fears. They considered themselves as now entirely safe. The old men
and the women, considering that their places were now abundantly
supplied, thenceforth withdrew from all active participation in the
contest, and retired to their respective homes, to rest and refresh
themselves after their toils.
Notwithstanding this, however, Pyrrhus was not yet prepared to give up
the contest. The immediate effect, in fact, of the arrival of the
re-enforcements was to arouse his spirit anew, and to stimulate him to
a fresh determination that he would not be defeated in his purpose,
but that he would conquer the city at all hazards. He accordingly made
several more desperate attempts, but they were wholly unsuccessful;
and at length, after a series of losses and defeats, he was obliged to
give up the contest and withdraw. He retired, accordingly, to some
little distance from Sparta, where he established a permanent camp,
subsisting his soldiers by plundering the surrounding country. He was
vexed and irritated by the mortifications and disappointments which he
had endured, and waited impatiently for an opportunity to seek
revenge.
While he was thus pondering his situation, uncertain what to do next,
he received one day a message from Argos, a city in the northern part
of the Peloponnesus, asking him to come and take part in a contest
which had been opened there. It seems that a civil war had broken out
in that city, and one of the leaders, knowing the character of
Pyrrhus, and his readiness to engage in any quarrel which was offered
to him, had concluded to apply for his aid. Pyrrhus was, as usual,
very ready to yield to this request. It afforded him, as similar
proposals had so often done before, a plausible excuse for abandoning
an enterprise in which he began to despair of being able to succeed.
He immediately commenced his march to the northward. The Spartans,
however, were by no means disposed to allow him to go off unmolested.
They advanced with all the force they could command, and, though they
were not powerful enough to engage him in a general battle, they
harassed him and embarrassed his march in a very vexatious manner.
They laid ambushes in the narrow defiles through which he had to pass;
they cut off his detachments, and plundered and destroyed his
baggage. Pyrrhus at length sent back a body of his guards under
Ptolemy, his son, to drive them away. Ptolemy attacked the Spartans
and fought them with great bravery, until at length, in the heat of
the contest, a celebrated Cretan, of remarkable strength and activity,
riding furiously up to Ptolemy, felled him to the ground, and killed
him at a single blow. On seeing him fall, his detachment were struck
with dismay, and, turning their backs on the Spartans, fled to Pyrrhus
with the tidings.
Pyrrhus was, of course, excited to the highest pitch of phrensy at
hearing what had occurred. He immediately placed himself at the head
of a troop of horse, and galloped back to attack the Spartans and
avenge the death of his son. He assaulted his enemies, when he reached
the ground where they were posted, in the most furious manner, and
killed great numbers of them in the conflict that ensued. At one time,
he was for a short period in the most imminent danger. A Spartan,
named Evalcus, who came up and engaged him hand to hand, aimed a blow
at his head, which, although it failed of its intended effect, came
down close in front of his body, as he sat upon his horse, and cut
off the reins of the bridle. The instant after, Pyrrhus transfixed
Evalcus with his spear. Of course, Pyrrhus had now no longer the
control of his horse, and he accordingly leaped from him to the ground
and fought on foot, while the Spartans gathered around, endeavoring to
rescue and protect the body of Evalcus. A furious and most terrible
contest ensued, in which many on both sides were slain. At length
Pyrrhus made good his retreat from the scene, and the Spartans
themselves finally withdrew. Pyrrhus having thus, by way of comfort
for his grief, taken the satisfaction of revenge, resumed his march
and went to Argos.
Arrived before the city, he found that there was an army opposed to
him there, under the command of a general named Antigonus. His army
was encamped upon a hill near the city, awaiting his arrival. The mind
of Pyrrhus had become so chafed and irritated by the opposition which
he had encountered, and the defeats, disappointments, and
mortifications which he had endured, that he was full of rage and
fury, and seemed to manifest the temper of a wild beast rather than
that of a man. He sent a herald to the camp of Antigonus, angrily
defying him, and challenging him to come down from his encampment and
meet him in single combat on the plain. Antigonus very coolly replied
that _time_ was a weapon which he employed in his contests as well as
the sword, and that he was not yet ready for a battle; adding, that if
Pyrrhus was weary of his life, and very impatient to end it, there
were plenty of modes by which he could accomplish his desire.
Pyrrhus remained for some days before the walls of Argos, during which
time various negotiations took place between the people of the city
and the several parties involved in the quarrel, with a view to an
amicable adjustment of the dispute, in order to save the city from the
terrors attendant upon a contest for the possession of it between such
mighty armies. At length some sort of settlement was made, and both
armies agreed to retire. Pyrrhus, however, had no intention of keeping
his agreement. Having thrown the people of the city somewhat off their
guard by his promise, he took occasion to advance stealthily to one of
the gates at dead of night, and there, the gate being opened to him by
a confederate within the city, he began to march his soldiers in. The
troops were ordered to keep silence, and to step noiselessly, and thus
a large body of Gauls gained admission, and posted themselves in the
market-place without alarming or awakening the inhabitants. To render
this story credible, we must suppose that the sentinels and guards had
been previously gained over to Pyrrhus's side.
The foot-soldiers having thus made their entrance into the city,
Pyrrhus undertook next to pass some of his elephants in. It was found,
however, when they approached the gate, that they could not enter
without having the towers first removed from their backs, as the gates
were only high enough to admit the animals alone. The soldiers
accordingly proceeded to take off the towers, and then the elephants
were led in. The towers were then to be replaced. The work of taking
down the towers, and then of putting them on again, which all had to
be done in the dark, was attended with great difficulty and delay, and
so much noise was unavoidably made in the operation, that at length
the people in the surrounding houses took the alarm, and in a very
short period the whole city was aroused. Eager gatherings were
immediately held in all quarters. Pyrrhus pressed forward with all
haste into the market-place, and posted himself there, arranging his
elephants, his horse, and his foot in the manner best adapted to
protect them from any attack that might be made. The people of Argos
crowded into the citadel, and sent out immediately to Antigonus to
come in to their aid. He at once put his camp in motion, and,
advancing toward the walls with the main body, he sent in some
powerful detachments of troops to co-operate with the inhabitants of
the city. All these scenes occurring in the midst of the darkness of
the night, the people having been awakened from their sleep by a
sudden alarm, were attended, of course, by a dreadful panic and
confusion; and, to complete the complication of horrors, Areus, with
the Spartan army under his command, who had followed Pyrrhus in his
approach to the city, and had been closely watching his movements ever
since he had arrived, now burst in through the gates, and attacked the
troops of his hated enemy in the streets, in the market-place, and
wherever he could find them, with shouts, outcries, and imprecations,
that made the whole city one widespread scene of unutterable confusion
and terror.
The general confusion and terror, however, produced by the assaults of
the Spartans were the only results that immediately followed them, for
the troops soon found that no real progress could be made, and no
advantage gained by this nocturnal warfare. The soldiers could not
distinguish friends from foes. They could not see or hear their
commander, or act with any concert or in any order. They were
scattered about, and lost their way in narrow streets, or fell into
drains or sewers, and all attempts on the part of the officers to
rally them, or to control them in any way, were unavailing. At length,
by common consent, all parties desisted from fighting, and
awaited--all in an awful condition of uncertainty and suspense--the
coming of the dawn.
Pyrrhus, as the objects that were around him were brought gradually
into view by the gray light of the morning, was alarmed at seeing that
the walls of the citadel were covered with armed men, and at observing
various other indications, by which he was warned that there was a
very powerful force opposed to him within the city. As the light
increased, and brought the boundaries of the market-place where he
posted himself into view, and revealed the various images and figures
which had been placed there to adorn it, he was struck with
consternation at the sight of one of the groups, as the outlines of it
slowly made themselves visible. It was a piece of statuary, in
bronze, representing a combat between a wolf and a bull. It seems that
in former times some oracle or diviner had forewarned him that when he
should see a wolf encountering a bull, he might know that the hour of
his death was near. Of course, he had supposed that such a spectacle,
if it was indeed true that he was ever destined to see it, could only
be expected to appear in some secluded forest, or in some wide and
unfrequented spot among the mountains. Perhaps, indeed, he had paid
very little attention to the prophecy, and never expected that it
would be literally realized. When, however, this group in bronze came
out to view, it reminded him of the oracle, and the dreadful
foreboding which its appearance awakened, connected with the anxiety
and alarm naturally inspired by the situation in which he was placed,
filled him with consternation. He feared that his hour was come, and
his only solicitude now was to make good his retreat as soon as
possible from the fatal dangers by which he seemed to be surrounded.
But how to escape was the difficulty. The gate was narrow, the body of
troops with him was large, and he knew that in attempting to retire
he would be attacked from all the streets in the vicinity, and from
the tops of the houses and walls, and that his column would inevitably
be thrown into disorder, and would choke up the gateway and render it
wholly impassable, through their eagerness to escape and the confusion
that would ensue. He accordingly sent out a messenger to his son
Helenus, who remained all the time in command of the main body of the
army, without the walls, directing him to come forward with all his
force, and break down a portion of the wall adjoining the gateway, so
as to open a free egress for his troops in their retreat from the
city. He remained himself at his position in the market-place until
time had elapsed sufficient, as he judged, for Helenus to have
received his orders, and to have reached the gate in the execution of
them; and then, being by this time hard pressed by his enemies, who
began early in the morning to attack him on all quarters, he put his
troops in motion, and in the midst of a scene of shouts, uproar,
terror, and confusion indescribable, the whole body moved on toward
the gate, expecting that, by the time they arrived there, Helenus
would have accomplished his work, and that they should find a broad
opening made, which would allow of an easy egress. Instead of this,
however, they found, before they reached the gate, that the streets
before them were entirely blocked up with an immense concourse of
soldiers that were pouring tumultuously into the city. It seems that
Helenus had, in some way or other, misunderstood the orders, and
supposed that he was directed to enter the city himself, to re-enforce
his father within the walls. The shock of the encounter produced by
these opposing currents redoubled the confusion. Pyrrhus, and the
officers with him, shouted out orders to the advancing soldiers of
Helenus to fall back; but in the midst of the indescribable din and
confusion that prevailed, no vociferation, however loud, could be
heard. Nor, if the orders had been heard, could they have been obeyed,
for the van of the coming column was urged forward irresistibly by the
pressure of those behind, and the panic which by this time prevailed
among the troops of Pyrrhus's command made them frantic and furious in
their efforts to force their way onward and get out of the city. An
awful scene of confusion and destruction ensued. Men pressed and
trampled each other to death, and the air was filled with shrieks and
cries of pain and terror. The destruction of life was very great, but
it was produced almost entirely by the pressure and the
confusion--men, horses, and elephants being mingled inextricably
together in one vast living mass, which seemed, to those who looked
down upon it from above, to be writhing and struggling in the most
horrible contortions. There was no fighting, for there was no room for
any one to strike a blow. If a man drew his sword or raised his pike,
his arms were caught and pinioned immediately by the pressure around
him, and he found himself utterly helpless. The injury, therefore,
that was done, was the result almost altogether of the pressure and
the struggles, and of the trampling of the elephants and the horses
upon the men, and of the men upon each other.
The elephants added greatly to the confusion of the scene. One of the
largest in the troop fell in the gateway, and lay there for some time
on his side, unable to rise, and braying in a terrific manner. Another
was excited to a phrensy by the loss of his master, who had fallen off
from his head, wounded by a dart or a spear. The faithful animal
turned around to save him. With his trunk he threw the men who were in
the way off to the right hand and the left, and then, taking up the
body of his master with his trunk, he placed it carefully upon his
tusks, and then attempted to force a passage through the crowd,
trampling down all who came in his way. History has awarded to this
elephant a distinction which he well deserved, by recording his name.
It was Nicon.
[Illustration: DEATH OF PYRRHUS.]
All this time Pyrrhus was near the rear of his troops, and thus was
in some degree removed from the greatest severity of the pressure.
He turned and fought, from time to time, with those who were
pressing upon his line from behind. As the danger became more
imminent, he took out from his helmet the plume by which he was
distinguished from the other generals, and gave it to a friend who
was near him, in order that he might be a less conspicuous mark for
the shafts of his enemies. The combats, however, between his party
and those who were harassing them in the rear were still continued;
and at length, in one of them, a man of Argos wounded him, by
throwing a javelin with so much force that the point of it passed
through his breast-plate and entered his side. The wound was not
dangerous, but it had the effect of maddening Pyrrhus against the
man who had inflicted it, and he turned upon him with great fury,
as if he were intending to annihilate him at a blow. He would very
probably have killed the Greek, had it not been that just at that
moment the mother of the man, by a very singular coincidence, was
surveying the scene from a house-top which overlooked the street
where these events were occurring. She immediately seized a heavy
tile from the roof, and with all her strength hurled it into the
street upon Pyrrhus just as he was striking the blow. The tile came
down upon his head, and, striking the helmet heavily, it carried
both helmet and head down together, and crushed the lower vertebrae
of the neck at their junction with the spine.
Pyrrhus dropped the reins from his hands, and fell over from his horse
heavily to the ground. It happened that no one knew him who saw him
fall, for so great had been the crowd and confusion, that Pyrrhus had
got separated from his immediate friends. Those who were near him,
therefore, when he fell, pressed on, intent only on their own safety,
and left him where he lay. At last a soldier of Antigonus's army,
named Zopyrus, coming up to the spot, accompanied by several others of
his party, looked upon the wounded man and recognized him as Pyrrhus.
They lifted him up, and dragged him out of the street to a portico
that was near. Zopyrus drew his sword, and raised it to cut off his
prisoner's head. At this instant Pyrrhus opened his eyes, and rolled
them up with such a horrid expression as to strike Zopyrus with
terror. His arm consequently faltered in dealing the blow, so that he
missed his aim, and instead of striking the neck, only wounded and
mutilated the mouth and chin. He was obliged to repeat the stroke
again and again before the neck was sundered. At length, however, the
dreadful deed was done, and the head was severed from the body.
Very soon after this, Halcyoncus, the son of Antigonus, rode up to the
spot, and after learning what had occurred, he asked the soldiers to
lift up the head to him, that he might look at it a moment. As soon as
it was within his reach, he seized it and rode away, in order to carry
it to his father. He found his father sitting with his friends, and
threw down the head at his feet, as a trophy which he supposed his
father would rejoice to see. Antigonus was, however, in fact,
extremely shocked at the spectacle. He reproved his son in the
severest terms for his brutality, and then, sending for the mutilated
trunk, he gave to the whole body an honorable burial.
That Pyrrhus was a man of great native power of mind, and of
extraordinary capacity as a military leader, no one can deny. His
capacity and genius were in fact so great, as to make him, perhaps,
the most conspicuous example that the world has produced of the manner
in which the highest power and the noblest opportunities may be wasted
and thrown away. He accomplished nothing. He had no plan, no aim, no
object, but obeyed every momentary impulse, and entered, without
thought and without calculation, into any scheme that chance, or the
ambitious designs of others, might lay before him. He succeeded in
creating a vast deal of turmoil and war, in killing an immense number
of men, and in conquering, though temporarily and to no purpose, a
great many kingdoms. It was mischief, and only mischief, that he did;
and though the scale on which he perpetrated mischief was great, his
fickleness and vacillation deprived it altogether of the dignity of
greatness. His crimes against the peace and welfare of mankind did not
arise from any peculiar depravity; he was, on the contrary, naturally
of a noble and generous spirit, though in process of time, through
the reaction of his conduct upon his heart, these good qualities
almost entirely disappeared. Still, he seems never really to have
wished mankind ill. He perpetrated his crimes against them
thoughtlessly, merely for the purpose of showing what great things he
could do.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors, and to
ensure consistent spelling and punctuation in this etext; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the original book.
2. The chapter summaries in this text were originally published as
banners in the page headers, and have been moved to beginning of the
chapter for the reader's convenience.