DION

If it be true, Sosius Senecio, that, as Simonides tells us,

"Of the Corinthians Troy does not complain"

for having taken part with the Achaeans in the siege, because

the Trojans also had Corinthians (Glaucus, who sprang from

Corinth,) fighting bravely on their side, so also it may be

fairly said that neither Romans nor Greeks can quarrel with the

Academy, each nation being equally represented in the following

pair of lives, which will give an account of Brutus and of Dion,

-- Dion, who was Plato's own hearer, and Brutus, who was brought

up in his philosophy. They came from one and the selfsame

school, where they had been trained alike, to run the race of

honor; nor need we wonder that in the performance of actions

often most nearly allied and akin, they both bore evidence to

the truth of what their guide and teacher had said, that,

without the concurrence of power and success with justice and

prudence, public actions do not attain their proper, great, and

noble character. For as Hippomachus the wrestling-master

affirmed, he could distinguish his scholars at a distance.

though they were but carrying meat from the shambles, so it is

very probable that the principles of those who have had the same

good education should appear with a resemblance in all their

actions, creating in them a certain harmony and proportion, at

once agreeable and becoming.

We may also draw a close parallel of the lives of the two men

from their fortunes, wherein chance, even more than their own

designs, made them nearly alike. For they were both cut off by

an untimely death, not being able to accomplish those ends which

through many risks and difficulties they aimed at. But, above

all, this is most wonderful; that by preternatural interposition

both of them had notice given of their approaching death by an

unpropitious form, which visibly appeared to them. Although

there are people who utterly deny any such thing, and say that

no man in his right senses ever yet saw any supernatural phantom

or apparition, but that children only, and silly women, or men

disordered by sickness, in some aberration of the mind or

distemperature of the body, have had empty and extravagant

imaginations, whilst the real evil genius, superstition, was in

themselves. Yet if Dion and Brutus, men of solid understanding,

and philosophers, not to be easily deluded by fancy or

discomposed by any sudden apprehension, were thus affected by

visions, that they forthwith declared to their friends what they

had seen, I know not how we can avoid admitting again the

utterly exploded opinion of the oldest times, that evil and

beguiling spirits, out of an envy to good men, and a desire of

impeding their good deeds, make efforts to excite in them

feelings of terror and distraction, to make them shake and

totter in their virtue, lest by a steady and unbiased

perseverance they should obtain a happier condition than these

beings after death. But I shall leave these things for another

opportunity, and, in this twelfth book of the lives of great men

compared one with another, begin with his who was the elder.

Dionysius the First, having possessed himself of the government,

at once took to wife the daughter of Hermocrates, the Syracusan.

She, in an outbreak which the citizens made before the new power

was well settled, was abused in such a barbarous and outrageous

manner, that for shame she put an end to her own life. But

Dionysius, when he was reestablished and confirmed in his

supremacy, married two wives together, one named Doris, of

Locri, the other, Aristomache, a native of Sicily, and daughter

of Hipparinus, a man of the first quality in Syracuse, and

colleague with Dionysius when he was first chosen general with

unlimited powers for the war. It is said he married them both

in one day, and no one ever knew which of the two he first made

his wife; and ever after he divided his kindness equally between

them, both accompanying him together at his table, and in his

bed by turns. Indeed, the Syracusans were urgent that their own

countrywoman might be preferred before the stranger; but Doris,

to compensate for her foreign extraction; had the good fortune

to be the mother of the son and heir of the family, whilst

Aristomache continued a long time without issue, though

Dionysius was very desirous to have children by her, and,

indeed, caused Doris's mother to be put to death, laying to her

charge that she had given drugs to Aristomache, to prevent her

being with child.

Dion, Aristomache's brother, at first found an honorable

reception for his sister's sake; but his own worth and parts

soon procured him a nearer place in his brother-in-law's

affection, who, among other favors, gave special command to his

treasurers to furnish Dion with whatever money he demanded, only

telling him on the same day what they had delivered out. Now,

though Dion was before reputed a person of lofty character; of a

noble mind, and daring courage, yet these excellent

qualifications all received a great development from the happy

chance which conducted Plato into Sicily; not assuredly by any

human device or calculation, but some supernatural power,

designing that this remote cause should hereafter occasion the

recovery of the Sicilians' lost liberty and the subversion of

the tyrannical government, brought the philosopher out of Italy

to Syracuse, and made acquaintance between him and Dion. Dion

was, indeed, at this time extremely young in years, but of all

the scholars that attended Plato he was the quickest and aptest

to learn, and the most prompt and eager to practice, the lessons

of virtue, as Plato himself reports of him, and his own actions

sufficiently testify. For though he had been bred up under a

tyrant in habits of submission, accustomed to a life, on the one

hand of servility and intimidation, and yet on the other of

vulgar display and luxury, the mistaken happiness of people that

knew no better thing than pleasure and self-indulgence, yet, at

the first taste of reason and a philosophy that demands

obedience to virtue, his soul was set in a flame, and in the

simple innocence of youth, concluding, from his own disposition,

that the same reasons would work the same effects upon

Dionysius, he made it his business, and at length obtained the

favor of him, at a leisure hour, to hear Plato.

At this their meeting, the subject-matter of their discourse in

general was human virtue, but, more particularly, they disputed

concerning fortitude, which Plato proved tyrants, of all men,

had the least pretense to; and thence proceeding to treat of

justice, asserted the happy estate of the just, and the

miserable condition of the unjust; arguments which Dionysius

would not hear out, but, feeling himself, as it were, convicted

by his words, and much displeased to see the rest of the

auditors full of admiration for the speaker and captivated with

his doctrine, at last, exceedingly exasperated, he asked the

philosopher in a rage, what business he had in Sicily. To which

Plato answered, "I came to seek a virtuous man." "It seems

then," replied Dionysius, "you have lost your labor." Dion,

supposing, that this was all, and that nothing further could

come of his anger, at Plato's request, conveyed him aboard a

galley, which was conveying Pollis, the Spartan, into Greece.

But Dionysius privately dealt with Pollis, by all means to kill

Plato in the voyage; if not, to be sure to sell him for a slave:

he would, of course, take no harm of it, being the same just man

as before; he would enjoy that happiness, though he lost his

liberty. Pollis, therefore, it is stated, carried Plato to

Aegina, and there sold him; the Aeginetans, then at war with

Athens, having made a decree that whatever Athenian was taken on

their coasts should forthwith be exposed to sale.

Notwithstanding, Dion was not in less favor and credit with

Dionysius than formerly, but was entrusted with the most

considerable employments, and sent on important embassies to

Carthage, in the management of which he gained very great

reputation. Besides, the usurper bore with the liberty he took

to speak his mind freely, he being the only man who upon any

occasion durst boldly say what he thought, as, for example, in

the rebuke he gave him about Gelon. Dionysius was ridiculing

Gelon's government, and, alluding to his name, said, he had been

the laughing-stock of Sicily. While others seemed to admire

and applaud the quibble, Dion very warmly replied,

"Nevertheless, it is certain that you are sole governor here,

because you were trusted for Gelon's sake; but for your sake no

man will ever hereafter be trusted again." For, indeed, Gelon

had made a monarchy appear the best, whereas Dionysius had

convinced men that it was the worst, of governments.

Dionysius had three children by Doris, and by Aristomache four,

two of which were daughters, Sophrosyne and Arete. Sophrosyne

was married to his son Dionysius; Arete, to his brother

Thearides, after whose death, Dion received his niece Arete to

wife. Now when Dionysius was sick and like to die, Dion

endeavored to speak with him in behalf of the children he had by

Aristomache, but was still prevented by the physicians, who

wanted to ingratiate themselves with the next successor, who

also, as Timaeus reports, gave him a sleeping potion which he

asked for, which produced an insensibility only followed by his

death.

Nevertheless, at the first council which the young Dionysius

held with his friends, Dion discoursed so well of the present

state of affairs, that he made all the rest appear in their

politics but children, and in their votes rather slaves than

counselors, who timorously and disingenuously advised what would

please the young man, rather than what would advance his

interest. But that which startled them most was the proposal he

made to avert the imminent danger they feared of a war with the

Carthaginians, undertaking, if Dionysius wanted peace, to sail

immediately over into Africa, and conclude it there upon

honorable terms; but, if he rather preferred war, then he would

fit out and maintain at his own cost and charges fifty galleys

ready for the service.

Dionysius wondered much at his greatness of mind, and received

his offer with satisfaction. But the other courtiers, thinking

his generosity reflected upon them, and jealous of being

lessened by his greatness, from hence took all occasions by

private slanders to render him obnoxious to the young man's

displeasure; as if he designed by his power at sea to surprise

the government, and by the help of those naval forces confer the

supreme authority upon his sister Aristomache's children. But,

indeed, the most apparent and the strongest grounds for dislike

and hostility existed already in the difference of his habits,

and his reserved and separate way of living. For they, who,

from the beginning, by flatteries and all unworthy artifices,

courted the favor and familiarity of the prince, youthful and

voluptuously bred, ministered to his pleasures, and sought how

to find him daily some new amours and occupy him in vain

amusements, with wine or with women, and in other dissipations;

by which means, the tyranny, like iron softened in the fire,

seemed, indeed, to the subject to be more moderate and gentle,

and to abate somewhat of its extreme severity; the edge of it

being blunted, not by the clemency, but rather the sloth and

degeneracy of the sovereign, whose dissoluteness, gaining ground

daily, and growing upon him, soon weakened and broke those

"adamantine chains," with which his father, Dionysius, said he

had left the monarchy fastened and secured. It is reported of

him, that, having begun a drunken debauch, he continued it

ninety days without intermission; in all which time no person

on business was allowed to appear, nor was any serious

conversation heard at court, but drinking, singing, dancing.

and buffoonery reigned there without control.

It is likely then they had little kindness for Dion, who never

indulged himself in any youthful pleasure or diversion. And so

his very virtues were the matter of their calumnies, and were

represented under one or other plausible name as vices; they

called his gravity pride, his plain-dealing self-will, the good

advice he gave was all construed into reprimand, and he was

censured for neglecting and scorning those in whose misdemeanors

he declined to participate. And to say the truth, there was in

his natural character something stately, austere, reserved, and

unsociable in conversation, which made his company unpleasant

and disagreeable not only to the young tyrant, whose ears had

been corrupted by flatteries; many also of Dion's own intimate

friends, though they loved the integrity and generosity of his

temper, yet blamed his manner, and thought he treated those with

whom he had to do, less courteously and affably than became a

man engaged in civil business. Of which Plato also afterwards

wrote to him; and, as it were, prophetically advised him

carefully to avoid an arbitrary temper, whose proper helpmate

was a solitary life. And, indeed, at this very time, though

circumstances made him so important, and, in the danger of the

tottering government, he was recognized as the only or the

ablest support of it, yet he well understood that he owed not

his high position to any good-will or kindness, but to the mere

necessities of the usurper.

And, supposing the cause of this to be ignorance and want of

education, he endeavored to induce the young man into a course

of liberal studies, and to give him some knowledge of moral

truths and reasonings, hoping he might thus lose his fear of

virtuous living, and learn to take pleasure in laudable actions.

Dionysius, in his own nature, was not one of the worst kind of

tyrants, but his father, fearing that if he should come to

understand himself better, and converse with wise and reasonable

men, he might enter into some design against him, and dispossess

him of his power, kept him closely shut up at home; where, for

want of other company, and ignorant how to spend his time

better, he busied himself in making little chariots,

candlesticks, stools, tables, and other things of wood. For the

elder Dionysius was so diffident and suspicious, and so

continually on his guard against all men, that he would not so

much as let his hair be trimmed with any barber's or

hair-cutter's instruments, but made one of his artificers singe

him with a live coal. Neither were his brother or his son

allowed to come into his apartment in the dress they wore, but

they, as all others, were stripped to their skins by some of the

guard, and, after being seen naked, put on other clothes before

they were admitted into the presence. When his brother Leptines

was once describing the situation of a place, and took a javelin

from one of the guard to draw the plan of it, he was extremely

angry with him, and had the soldier who gave him the weapon put

to death. He declared, the more judicious his friends were, the

more he suspected them; because he knew, that were it in their

choice, they would rather be tyrants themselves than the

subjects of a tyrant. He slew Marsyas, one of his captains whom

he had preferred to a considerable command, for dreaming that he

killed him: without some previous waking thought and purpose of

the kind, he could not, he supposed, have had that fancy in

his sleep. So timorous was he, and so miserable a slave to his

fears, yet very angry with Plato, because he would not allow him

to be the valiantest man alive.

Dion, as we said before, seeing the son thus deformed and spoilt

in character for want of teaching, exhorted him to study, and to

use all his entreaties to persuade Plato, the first of

philosophers, to visit him in Sicily, and; when he came, to

submit himself to his direction and advice: by whose

instructions he might conform his nature to the truths of

virtue, and, living after the likeness of the Divine and

glorious Model of Being, out of obedience to whose control the

general confusion is changed into the beautiful order of the

universe, so he in like manner might be the cause of great

happiness to himself and to all his subjects, who, obliged by

his justice and moderation, would then willingly pay him

obedience as their father, which now grudgingly, and upon

necessity, they are forced to yield him as their master. Their

usurping tyrant he would then no longer be, but their lawful

king. For fear and force, a great navy and standing army of ten

thousand hired barbarians are not, as his father had said, the

adamantine chains which secure the regal power, but the love,

zeal, and affection inspired by clemency and justice; which,

though they seem more pliant than the stiff and hard bonds of

severity, are nevertheless the strongest and most durable ties

to sustain a lasting government. Moreover, it is mean and

dishonorable that a ruler, while careful to be splendid in his

dress, and luxurious and magnificent in his habitation, should,

in reason and power of speech, make no better show than the

commonest of his subjects, nor have the princely palace of his

mind adorned according to his royal dignity.

Dion frequently entertaining the king upon this subject, and, as

occasion offered, repeating some of the philosopher's sayings,

Dionysius grew impatiently desirous to have Plato's company, and

to hear him discourse. Forthwith, therefore, he sent letter

upon letter to him to Athens, to which Dion added his

entreaties; also several philosophers of the Pythagorean sect

from Italy sent their recommendations, urging him to come and

obtain a hold upon this pliant, youthful soul, which his solid

and weighty reasonings might steady, as it were, upon the seas

of absolute power and authority. Plato, as he tells us himself,

out of shame more than any other feeling, lest it should seem

that he was all mere theory, and that of his own good-will he

would never venture into action, hoping withal, that if he could

work a cure upon one man, the head and guide of the rest, he

might remedy the distempers of the whole island of Sicily,

yielded to their requests.

But Dion's enemies, fearing an alteration in Dionysius,

persuaded him to recall from banishment Philistus, a man of

learned education, and at the same time of great experience in

the ways of tyrants, and who might serve as a counterpoise to

Plato and his philosophy. For Philistus from the beginning had

been a great instrument in establishing the tyranny, and for a

long time had held the office of captain of the citadel. There

was a report, that he had been intimate with the mother of

Dionysius the first, and not without his privity. And when

Leptines, having two daughters by a married woman whom he had

debauched, gave one of them in marriage to Philistus, without

acquainting Dionysius, he, in great anger, put Leptines's

mistress in prison, and banished Philistus from Sicily.

Whereupon, he fled to some of his friends on the Adriatic coast,

in which retirement and leisure it is probable he wrote the

greatest part of his history; for he returned not into his

country during the reign of that Dionysius.

But after his death, as is just related, Dion's enemies

occasioned him to be recalled home, as fitter for their purpose,

and a firm friend to the arbitrary government. And this,

indeed, immediately upon his return he set himself to maintain;

and at the same time various calumnies and accusations against

Dion were by others brought to the king: as that he held

correspondence with Theodotes and Heraclides, to subvert the

government; as, doubtless, it is likely enough, that Dion had

entertained hopes, by the coming of Plato, to mitigate the rigid

and despotic severity of the tyranny, and to give Dionysius the

character of a fair and lawful governor; and had determined, if

he should continue averse to that, and were not to be reclaimed,

to depose him, and restore the commonwealth to the Syracusans;

not that he approved a democratic government, but thought it

altogether preferable to a tyranny, when a sound and good

aristocracy could not be procured.

This was the state of affairs when Plato came into Sicily, who,

at his first arrival, was received with wonderful demonstration

of kindness and respect. For one of the royal chariots, richly

ornamented, was in attendance to receive him when he came on

shore; Dionysius himself sacrificed to the gods in thankful

acknowledgment for the great happiness which had befallen his

government. The citizens, also, began to entertain marvelous

hopes of a speedy reformation, when they observed the modesty

which now ruled in the banquets, and the general decorum which

prevailed in all the court, their tyrant himself also behaving

with gentleness and humanity in all their matters of business

that came before him. There was a general passion for

reasoning: and philosophy, insomuch that the very palace, it is

reported, was filled with dust by the concourse of the students

in mathematics who were working their problems there. Some few

days after, it was the time of one of the Syracusan sacrifices,

and when the priest, as he was wont, prayed for the long and

safe continuance of the tyranny, Dionysius, it is said, as he

stood by, cried out, "Leave off praying for evil upon us." This

sensibly vexed Philistus and his party, who conjectured, that if

Plato, upon such brief acquaintance, had so far transformed and

altered the young man's mind, longer converse and greater

intimacy would give him such influence and authority, that it

would he impossible to withstand him.

Therefore, no longer privately and apart, but jointly and in

public, all of them, they began to slander Dion, noising it

about that he had charmed and bewitched Dionysius by Plato's

sophistry, to the end that when he was persuaded voluntarily to

part with his power, and lay down his authority, Dion might take

it up, and settle it upon his sister Aristomache's children.

Others professed to be indignant that the Athenians, who

formerly had come to Sicily with a great fleet and a numerous

land-army, and perished miserably without being able to take the

city of Syracuse, should now, by means of one sophister,

overturn the sovereignty of Dionysius; inveigling him to

cashier his guard of ten thousand lances, dismiss a navy of four

hundred galleys, disband an army of ten thousand horse and many

times over that number of foot, and go seek in the schools an

unknown and imaginary bliss, and learn by the mathematics how to

be happy; while, in the meantime, the substantial enjoyments of

absolute power, riches, and pleasure would be handed over to

Dion and his sister's children.

By these means, Dion began to incur at first suspicion, and by

degrees more apparent displeasure and hostility. A letter,

also, was intercepted and brought to the young prince, which

Dion had written to the Carthaginian agents, advising them,

that, when they treated with Dionysius concerning the peace,

they should not come to their audience without communicating

with him: they would not fail to obtain by this means all that

they wanted. When Dionysius had shown this to Philistus, and

consulted with him, as Timaeus relates, about it, he overreached

Dion by a feigned reconciliation, professing, after some fair

and reasonable expression of his feelings, that he was at

friends with him, and thus, leading him alone to the sea-side,

under the castle wall, he showed him the letter, and taxed him

with conspiring with the Carthaginians against him. And when

Dion essayed to speak in his own defense, Dionysius suffered him

not; but immediately forced him aboard a boat, which lay there

for that purpose, and commanded the sailors to set him ashore on

the coast of Italy.

When this was publicly known, and was thought very hard usage,

there was much lamentation in the tyrant's own household on

account of the women, but the citizens of Syracuse encouraged

themselves, expecting that for his sake some disturbance would

ensue; which, together with the mistrust others would now feel,

might occasion a general change and revolution in the state.

Dionysius, seeing this, took alarm, and endeavored to pacify the

women and others of Dion's kindred and friends; assuring them

that he had not banished, but only sent him out of the way for a

time, for fear of his own passion, which might be provoked some

day by Dion's self-will into some act which he should be sorry

for. He gave also two ships to his relations, with liberty to

send into Peloponnesus for him whatever of his property or

servants they thought fit.

Dion was very rich, and had his house furnished with little less

than royal splendor and magnificence. These valuables his

friends packed up and conveyed to him, besides many rich

presents which were sent him by the women and his adherents. So

that, so far as wealth and riches went, he made a noble

appearance among the Greeks, and they might judge, by the

affluence of the exile, what was the power of the tyrant.

Dionysius immediately removed Plato into the castle, designing,

under color of an honorable and kind reception, to set a guard

upon him, lest he should follow Dion, and declare to the world

in his behalf, how injuriously he had been dealt with. And,

moreover, time and conversation (as wild beasts by use grow tame

and tractable) had brought Dionysius to endure Plato's company

and discourse, so that he began to love the philosopher, but

with such an affection as had something of the tyrant in it,

requiring of Plato that he should, in return of his kindness,

love him only, and attend to him above all other men; being

ready to permit to his care the chief management of affairs, and

even the government, too, upon condition that he would not

prefer Dion's friendship before his. This extravagant

affection was a great trouble to Plato, for it was accompanied

with petulant and jealous humors, like the fond passions of

those that are desperately in love; frequently he was angry and

fell out with him, and presently begged and entreated to be

friends again. He was beyond measure desirous to be Plato's

scholar, and to proceed in the study of philosophy, and yet he

was ashamed of it with those who spoke against it and professed

to think it would ruin him.

But a war about this time breaking out, he sent Plato away,

promising him in the summer to recall Dion, though in this he

broke his word at once; nevertheless, he remitted to him his

revenues, desiring Plato to excuse him as to the time appointed,

because of the war, but, as soon as he had settled a peace, he

would immediately send for Dion, requiring him in the interim to

be quiet, and not raise any disturbance, nor speak ill of him

among the Grecians. This Plato endeavored to effect, by keeping

Dion with him in the Academy, and busying him in philosophical

studies.

Dion sojourned in the Upper Town of Athens, with Callippus, one

of his acquaintance; but for his pleasure he bought a seat in

the country, which afterwards, when he went into Sicily, he gave

to Speusippus, who had been his most frequent companion while

he was at Athens, Plato so arranging it, with the hope that

Dion's austere temper might be softened by agreeable company,

with an occasional mixture of seasonable mirth. For Speusippus

was of the character to afford him this; we find him spoken of

in Timon's Silli, as "good at a jest." And Plato himself, as

it happened, being called upon to furnish a chorus of boys, Dion

took upon him the ordering and management of it, and defrayed

the whole expense, Plato giving him this opportunity to oblige

the Athenians, which was likely to procure his friend more

kindness than himself credit. Dion went also to see several

other cities, visiting the noblest and most statemanlike persons

in Greece, and joining in their recreations and entertainments

in their times of festival. In all which, no sort of vulgar

ignorance, or tyrannic assumption, or luxuriousness was remarked

in him; but, on the contrary, a great deal of temperance,

generosity, and courage, and a well-becoming taste for reasoning

and philosophic discourses. By which means he gained the love

and admiration of all men, and in many cities had public honors

decreed him; the Lacedaemonians making him a citizen of Sparta,

without regard to the displeasure of Dionysius, though at that

time he was aiding them in their wars against the Thebans.

It is related that once, upon invitation, he went to pay a visit

to Ptoeodorus the Megarian, a man, it would seem, of wealth and

importance; and when, on account of the concourse of people

about his doors, and the press of business, it was very

troublesome and difficult to get access to him, turning about to

his friends who seemed concerned and angry at it, "What reason,"

said he, "have we to blame Ptoeodorus, when we ourselves used to

do no better when we were at Syracuse?"

After some little time, Dionysius, envying Dion, and jealous of

the favor and interest he had among the Grecians, put a stop

upon his incomes, and no longer sent him his revenues, making

his own commissioners trustees of the estate. But, endeavoring

to obviate the ill-will and discredit which, upon Plato's

account, might accrue to him among the philosophers, he

collected in his court many reputed learned men; and,

ambitiously desiring to surpass them in their debates he was

forced to make use, often incorrectly, of arguments he had

picked up from Plato. And now he wished for his company again,

repenting he had not made better use of it when he had it, and

had given no greater heed to his admirable lessons. Like a

tyrant, therefore, inconsiderate in his desires, headstrong and

violent in whatever he took a will to, on a sudden he was

eagerly set on the design of recalling him, and left no stone

unturned, but addressed himself to Archytas the Pythagorean (his

acquaintance and friendly relations with whom owed their origin

to Plato), and persuaded him to stand as surety for his

engagements, and to request Plato to revisit Sicily.

Archytas therefore sent Archedemus, and Dionysius some galleys,

with divers friends, to entreat his return; moreover, he wrote

to him himself expressly and in plain terms, that Dion must

never look for any favor or kindness, if Plato would not be

prevailed with to come into Sicily; but if Plato did come, Dion

should be assured of whatever he desired. Dion also received

letters full of solicitations from his sister and his wife,

urging him to beg Plato to gratify Dionysius in this request,

and not give him an excuse for further ill-doing. So that, as

Plato says of himself, the third time he set sail for the Strait

of Scylla,

"Venturing again Charybdis's dangerous gulf."

This arrival brought great joy to Dionysius, and no less hopes

to the Sicilians, who were earnest in their prayers and good

wishes that Plato might get the better of Philistus, and

philosophy triumph over tyranny. Neither was he unbefriended by

the women, who studied to oblige him; and he had with Dionysius

that peculiar credit which no man else ever obtained, namely,

liberty to come into his presence without being examined or

searched. When he would have given him a considerable sum of

money, and, on several repeated occasions, made fresh offers,

which Plato as often declined, Aristippus the Cyrenaean, then

present, said that Dionysius was very safe in his munificence,

he gave little to those who were ready to take all they could

get, and a great deal to Plato, who would accept of nothing.

After the first compliments of kindness were over, when Plato

began to discourse of Dion, he was at first diverted by excuses

for delay, followed soon after by complaints and disgusts,

though not as yet observable to others, Dionysius endeavoring to

conceal them, and, by other civilities and honorable usage, to

draw him off from his affection to Dion. And for some time

Plato himself was careful not to let anything of this dishonesty

and breach of promise appear, but bore with it, and dissembled

his annoyance. While matters stood thus between them, and, as

they thought, they were unobserved and undiscovered, Helicon the

Cyzicenian, one of Plato's followers, foretold an eclipse of the

sun, which happened according to his prediction; for which he

was much admired by the tyrant, and rewarded with a talent of

silver; whereupon Aristippus, jesting with some others of the

philosophers, told them, he also could predict something

extraordinary; and on their entreating him to declare it, "I

foretell," said he, "that before long there will be a quarrel

between Dionysius and Plato."

At length, Dionysius made sale of Dion's estate, and converted

the money to his own use, and removed Plato from an apartment he

had in the gardens of the palace to lodgings among the guards he

kept in pay, who from the first had hated Plato, and sought

opportunity to make away with him, supposing he advised

Dionysius to lay down the government and disband his soldiers.

When Archytas understood the danger he was in, he immediately

sent a galley with messengers to demand him of Dionysius;

alleging that he stood engaged for his safety, upon the

confidence of which Plato had come to Sicily. Dionysius, to

palliate his secret hatred, before Plato came away, treated him

with great entertainments and all seeming demonstrations of

kindness, but could not forbear breaking out one day into the

expression, "No doubt, Plato, when you are at home among the

philosophers, your companions, you will complain of me, and

reckon up a great many of my faults." To which Plato answered

with a smile, "The Academy will never, I trust, be at such a

loss for subjects to discuss as to seek one in you." Thus, they

say, Plato was dismissed; but his own writings do not altogether

agree with this account.

Dion was angry at all this, and not long after declared open

enmity to Dionysius, on hearing what had been done with his

wife; on which matter Plato, also, had had some confidential

correspondence with Dionysius. Thus it was. After Dion's

banishment, Dionysius, when he sent Plato back, had desired him

to ask Dion privately, if he would be averse to his wife's

marrying another man, For there went a report, whether true, or

raised by Dion's enemies, that his marriage was not pleasing to

him, and that he lived with his wife on uneasy terms. When

Plato therefore came to Athens, and had mentioned the subject to

Dion, he wrote a letter to Dionysius, speaking of other matters

openly, but on this in language expressly designed to be

understood by him alone, to the effect that he had talked with

Dion about the business, and that it was evident he would highly

resent the affront, if it should be put into execution. At that

time, therefore, while there were yet great hopes of an

accommodation, he took no new steps with his sister, suffering

her to live with Dion's child. But when things were come to

that pass, that no reconciliation could be expected, and Plato,

after his second visit, was again sent away in displeasure, he

then forced Arete, against her will, to marry Timocrates, one of

his favorites; in this action coming short even of his father's

justice and lenity; for he, when Polyxenus, the husband of his

sister, Theste, became his enemy, and fled in alarm out of

Sicily, sent for his sister, and taxed her, that, being privy to

her husband's flight, she had not declared it to him. But the

lady, confident and fearless, made him this reply: "Do you

believe me, brother, so bad a wife, or so timorous a woman,

that, having known my husband's flight, I would not have borne

him company, and shared his fortunes? I knew nothing of it;

since otherwise it had been my better lot to be called the wife

of the exile Polyxenus, than the sister of the tyrant

Dionysius." It is said, he admired her free and ready answer,

as did the Syracusans, also, her courage and virtue, insomuch

that she retained her dignity and princely retinue after the

dissolution of the tyranny, and, when she died, the citizens, by

public decree, attended the solemnity of her funeral. And the

story, though a digression from the present purpose, was well

worth the telling.

From this time, Dion set his mind upon warlike measures; with

which Plato, out of respect for past hospitalities, and because

of his age, would have nothing to do. But Speusippus and the

rest of his friends assisted and encouraged him, bidding him

deliver Sicily, which with lift-up hands implored his help, and

with open arms was ready to receive him. For when Plato was

staying at Syracuse, Speusippus, being oftener than he in

company with the citizens, had more thoroughly made out how

they were inclined; and though at first they had been on their

guard, suspecting his bold language, as though he had been set

on by the tyrant to trepan them, yet at length they trusted him.

There was but one mind and one wish or prayer among them all,

that Dion would undertake the design, and come, though without

either navy, men, horse, or arms; that he would simply put

himself aboard any ship, and lend the Sicilians his person and

name against Dionysius. This information from Speusippus

encouraged Dion, who, concealing his real purpose, employed his

friends privately to raise what men they could; and many

statesmen and philosophers were assisting to him, as, for

instance, Eudemus the Cyprian, on whose death Aristotle wrote

his Dialogue of the Soul, and Timonides the Leucadian. They

also engaged on his side Miltas the Thessalian, who was a

prophet, and had studied in the Academy. But of all that were

banished by Dionysius, who were not fewer than a thousand, five

and twenty only joined in the enterprise; the rest were afraid,

and abandoned it. The rendezvous was in the island Zacynthus,

where a small force of not quite eight hundred men came

together, all of them, however, persons already distinguished in

plenty of previous hard service, their bodies well trained and

practiced, and their experience and courage amply sufficient to

animate and embolden to action the numbers whom Dion expected to

join him in Sicily.

Yet these men, when they first understood the expedition was

against Dionysius, were troubled and disheartened, blaming Dion,

that, hurried on like a madman by mere passion and despair, he

rashly threw both himself and them into certain ruin. Nor were

they less angry with their commanders and muster-masters, that

they had not in the beginning let them know the design. But

when Dion in his address to them had set forth the unsafe and

weak condition of arbitrary government, and declared that he

carried them rather for commanders than soldiers, the citizens

of Syracuse and the rest of the Sicilians having been long ready

for a revolt, and when, after him, Alcimenes, an Achaean of the

highest birth and reputation, who accompanied the expedition,

harangued them to the same effect, they were contented.

It was now the middle of summer, and the Etesian winds blowing

steadily on the seas, the moon was at the full, when Dion

prepared a magnificent sacrifice to Apollo; and with great

solemnity marched his soldiers to the temple in all their arms

and accouterments. And after the sacrifice, he feasted them all

in the race-course of the Zacynthians, where he had made

provision for their entertainment. And when here they beheld

with wonder the quantity and the richness of the gold and silver

plate, and the tables laid to entertain them, all far exceeding

the fortunes of a private man, they concluded with themselves,

that a man now past the prime of life, who was master of so much

treasure, would not engage himself in so hazardous an enterprise

without good reason of hope, and certain and sufficient

assurances of aid from friends over there. Just after the

libations were made, and the accompanying prayers offered, the

moon was eclipsed; which was no wonder to Dion, who understood

the revolutions of eclipses, and the way in which the moon is

overshadowed and the earth interposed between her and the sun.

But because it was necessary that the soldiers, who were

surprised and troubled at it, should be satisfied and

encouraged, Miltas the diviner, standing up in the midst of the

assembly, bade them be of good cheer, and expect all happy

success, for that the divine powers foreshowed that something at

present glorious and resplendent should be eclipsed and

obscured; nothing at this time being more splendid than the

sovereignty of Dionysius, their arrival in Sicily should dim

this glory, and extinguish this brightness. Thus Miltas, in

public, descanted upon the incident. But concerning a swarm of

bees which settled on the poop of Dion's ship, he privately told

him and his friends, that he feared the great actions they were

like to perform, though for a time they should thrive and

flourish, would be of short continuance, and soon suffer a

decay. It is reported, also, that many prodigies happened to

Dionysius at that time. An eagle, snatching a javelin from one

of the guard, carried it aloft, and from thence let it fall into

the sea. The water of the sea that washed the castle walls was

for a whole day sweet and potable, as many that tasted it

experienced. Pigs were farrowed perfect in all their other

parts, but without ears. This the diviners declared to portend

revolt and rebellion, for that the subjects would no longer give

ear to the commands of their superiors. They expounded the

sweetness of the water to signify to the Syracusans a change

from hard and grievous times into easier and more happy

circumstances. The eagle being the bird of Jupiter, and the

spear an emblem of power and command, this prodigy was to denote

that the chief of the gods designed the end and dissolution of

the present government. These things Theopompus relates in his

history.

Two ships of burden carried all Dion's men; a third vessel, of

no great size, and two galleys of thirty oars attended them. In

addition to his soldiers' own arms, he carried two thousand

shields, a very great number of darts and lances, and abundant

stores of all manner of provisions, that there might be no want

of anything in their voyage; their purpose being to keep out at

sea during the whole voyage, and use the winds, since all the

land was hostile to them, and Philistus, they had been told, was

in Iapygia with a fleet, looking out for them. Twelve days they

sailed with a fresh and gentle breeze; on the thirteenth, they

made Pachynus, the Sicilian cape. There Protus, the chief

pilot, advised them to land at once and without delay, for if

they were forced again from the shore, and did not take

advantage of the headland, they might ride out at sea many

nights and days, waiting for a southerly wind in the summer

season. But Dion, fearing a descent too near his enemies, and

desirous to begin at a greater distance, and further on in the

country, sailed on past Pachynus. They had not gone far, before

stress of weather, the wind blowing hard at north, drove the

fleet from the coast; and it being now about the time that

Arcturus rises, a violent storm of wind and rain came on, with

thunder and lightning, the mariners were at their wits' end, and

ignorant what course they ran, until on a sudden they found they

were driving with the sea on Cercina, the island on the coast of

Africa, just where it is most craggy and dangerous to run upon.

Upon the cliffs there they escaped narrowly of being forced and

staved to pieces; but, laboring hard at their oars, with much

difficulty they kept clear until the storm ceased. Then,

lighting by chance upon a vessel, they understood they were upon

the Heads, as it is called, of the Great Syrtis; and when they

were now again disheartened by a sudden calm, and beating to and

fro without making any way, a soft air began to blow from the

land, when they expected anything rather than wind from the

south and scarce believed the happy change of their fortune.

The gale gradually increasing, and beginning to blow fresh, they

clapped on all their sails, and, praying to the gods, put out

again into the open sea, steering right from Africa for Sicily.

And, running steady before the wind, the fifth day they arrived

at Minoa, a little town of Sicily, in the dominion of the

Carthaginians, of which Synalus, an acquaintance and friend of

Dion's, happened at that time to be governor; who, not knowing

it was Dion and his fleet, endeavored to hinder his men from

landing; but they rushed on shore with their swords in their

hands, not slaying any of their opponents (for this Dion had

forbidden, because of his friendship with the Carthaginians),

but forced them to retreat, and, following close, pressed in a

body with them into the place, and took it. As soon as the two

commanders met, they mutually saluted each other; Dion delivered

up the place again to Synalus, without the least damage done to

anyone therein, and Synalus quartered and entertained the

soldiers, and supplied Dion with what he wanted.

They were most of all encouraged by the happy accident of

Dionysius's absence at this nick of time; for it appeared that

he was lately gone with eighty sail of ships to Italy.

Therefore, when Dion was desirous that the soldiers should

refresh themselves there, after their tedious and troublesome

voyage, they would not be prevailed with, but, earnest to make

the best use of that opportunity, they urged Dion to lead them

straight on to Syracuse. Leaving therefore their baggage, and

the arms they did not use, Dion desired Synalus to convey them

to him as he had occasion, and marched directly to Syracuse.

The first that came in to him upon his march were two hundred

horse of the Agrigentines who were settled near Ecnomum, and,

after them, the Geloans. But the news soon flying to Syracuse,

Timocrates, who had married Dion's wife, the sister of

Dionysius, and was the principal man among his friends now

remaining in the city, immediately dispatched a courier to

Dionysius with letters announcing Dion's arrival; while he

himself took all possible care to prevent any stir or tumult in

the city, where all were in great excitement, but as yet

continued quiet, fearing to give too much credit to what was

reported. A very strange accident happened to the messenger who

was sent with the letters; for being arrived in Italy, as he

traveled through the land of Rhegium, hastening to Dionysius at

Caulonia, he met one of his acquaintance, who was carrying home

part of a sacrifice. He accepted a piece of the flesh, which

his friend offered him, and proceeded on his journey with all

speed; having traveled a good part of the night, and being

through

weariness forced to take a little rest, he laid himself down in

the next convenient place he came to, which was in a wood near

the road. A wolf, scenting the flesh, came and seized it as it

lay fastened to the letter-bag, and with the flesh carried away

the bag also, in which were the letters to Dionysius. The man,

awaking and missing his bag, sought for it up and down a great

while, and, not finding it, resolved not to go to the king

without his letters, but to conceal himself, and keep out of the

way.

Dionysius, therefore, came to hear of the war in Sicily from

other hands, and that a good while after. In the meantime, as

Dion proceeded in his march, the Camarineans joined his forces,

and the country people in the territory of Syracuse rose and

joined him in a large body. The Leontines and Campanians, who,

with Timocrates, guarded the Epipolae, receiving a false alarm

which was spread on purpose by Dion, as if he intended to attack

their cities first, left Timocrates, and hastened off to carry

succor to their own homes. News of which being brought to Dion,

where he lay near Macrae, he raised his camp by night, and came

to the river Anapus, which is distant from the city about ten

furlongs; there he made a halt, and sacrificed by the river,

offering vows to the rising sun. The soothsayers declared that

the gods promised him victory; and they that were present,

seeing him assisting at the sacrifice with a garland on his

head, one and all crowned themselves with garlands. There were

about five thousand that had joined his forces in their march;

who, though but ill-provided, with such weapons as came next to

hand, made up by zeal and courage for the want of better arms;

and when once they were told to advance, as if Dion were already

conqueror, they ran forward with shouts and acclamations,

encouraging each other with the hopes of liberty.

The most considerable men and better sort of the citizens of

Syracuse, clad all in white, met him at the gates. The populace

set upon all that were of Dionysius's party, and principally

searched for those they called setters or informers, a number

of wicked and hateful wretches, who made it their business to go

up and down the city, thrusting themselves into all companies,

that they might inform Dionysius what men said, and how they

stood affected. These were the first that suffered, being

beaten to death by the crowd. Timocrates, not being able to

force his way to the garrison that kept the castle, took horse,

and fled out of the city, filling all the places where he came

with fear and confusion, magnifying the amount of Dion's forces,

that he might not be supposed to have deserted his charge

without good reason for it. By this time, Dion was come up, and

appeared in the sight of the people; he marched first in a rich

suit of arms, and by him on one hand his brother, Megacles, on

the other, Callippus the Athenian, crowned with garlands. Of

the foreign soldiers, a hundred followed as his guard, and their

several officers led the rest in good order; the Syracusans

looking on and welcoming them, as if they believed the whole to

be a sacred and religious procession, to celebrate the solemn

entrance, after an absence of forty-eight years, of liberty and

popular government.

Dion entered by the Menitid gate, and, having by sound of

trumpet quieted the noise of the people, he caused proclamation

to be made, that Dion and Megacles, who were come to overthrow

the tyrannical government, did declare the Syracusans and all

other Sicilians to be free from the tyrant. But, being desirous

to harangue the people himself, he went up through the

Achradina. The citizens on each side the way brought victims

for sacrifice, set out their tables and goblets, and as he

passed by each door threw flowers and ornaments upon him, with

vows and acclamations, honoring him as a god. There was under

the castle and the Pentapyla a lofty and conspicuous sundial,

which Dionysius had set up. Getting up upon the top of that, he

made an oration to the people, calling upon them to maintain and

defend their liberty; who, with great expressions of joy and

acknowledgment, created Dion and Megacles generals, with plenary

powers, joining in commission with them, at their desire and

entreaty, twenty colleagues, of whom half were of those that had

returned with them out of banishment. It seemed also to the

diviners a most happy omen, that Dion, when he made his address

to the people, had under his feet the stately monument which

Dionysius had been at such pains to erect; but because it was a

sundial on which he stood when he was made general, they

expressed some fears that the great actions he had performed

might be subject to change, and admit some rapid turn and

declination of fortune.

After this, Dion, taking the Epipolae, released the citizens who

were imprisoned there, and then raised a wall to invest the

castle. Seven days after, Dionysus arrived by sea, and got into

the citadel, and about the same time came carriages bringing the

arms and ammunition which Dion had left with Synalus. These he

distributed among the citizens; and the rest that wanted

furnished themselves as well as they could, and put themselves

in the condition of zealous and serviceable men-at-arms.

Dionysius sent agents, at first privately, to Dion, to try what

terms they could make with him. But he declaring that any

overtures they had to make must be made in public to the

Syracusans as a free people, envoys now went and came between

the tyrant and the people, with fair proposals, and assurances

that they should have abatements of their tributes and taxes,

and freedom from the burdens of military expeditions, all which

should be made according to their own approbation and consent

with him. The Syracusans laughed at these offers, and Dion

returned answer to the envoys that Dionysius must not think to

treat with them upon any other terms but resigning the

government; which if he would actually do, he would not forget

how nearly he was related to him, or be wanting to assist him in

procuring oblivion for the past, and whatever else was

reasonable and just. Dionysius seemed to consent to this, and

sent his agents again, desiring some of the Syracusans to come

into the citadel and discuss with him in person the terms to

which on each side they might be willing, after fair debate, to

consent. There were therefore some deputed, such as Dion

approved of; and the general rumor from the castle was, that

Dionysius would voluntarily resign his authority, and rather do

it himself as his own good deed, than let it be the act of Dion.

But this profession was a mere trick to amuse the Syracusans.

For he put the deputies that were sent to him in custody, and by

break of day, having first, to encourage his men, made them

drink plentifully of raw wine, he sent the garrison of

mercenaries out to make a sudden sally against Dion's works.

The attack was quite unexpected, and the barbarians set to work

boldly with loud cries to pull down the cross-wall, and assailed

the Syracusans so furiously that they were not able to maintain

their post. Only a party of Dion's hired soldiers, on first

taking the alarm, advanced to the rescue; neither did they at

first know what to do, or how to employ the aid they brought,

not being able to hear the commands of their officers, amidst

the noise and confusion of the Syracusans, who fled from the

enemy and ran in among them, breaking through their ranks, until

Dion, seeing none of his orders could be heard, resolved to let

them see by example what they ought to do, and charged into the

thickest of the enemy. The fight about him was fierce and

bloody, he being as well known by the enemy as by his own party,

and all running with loud cries to the quarter where he fought.

Though his time of life was no longer that of the bodily

strength and agility for such a combat, still his determination

and courage were sufficient to maintain him against all that

attacked him; but, while bravely driving them back, he was

wounded in the hand with a lance, his body armor also had been

much battered, and was scarcely any longer serviceable to

protect him, either against missiles or blows hand to hand.

Many spears and javelins had passed into it through the shield,

and, on these being broken back, he fell to the ground, but was

immediately rescued, and carried off by his soldiers. The

command-in-chief he left to Timonides, and, mounting a horse,

rode about the city, rallying the Syracusans that fled; and,

ordering up a detachment of the foreign soldiers out of

Achradina, where they were posted on guard, he brought them as a

fresh reserve, eager for battle, upon the tired and failing

enemy, who were already well inclined to give up their design.

For having hopes at their first sally to retake the whole city,

when beyond their expectation they found themselves engaged with

bold and practiced fighters, they fell back towards the castle.

As soon as they gave ground, the Greek soldiers pressed the

harder upon them, till they turned and fled within the walls.

There were lost in this action seventy-four of Dion's men, and a

very great number of the enemy. This being a signal victory,

and principally obtained by the valor of the foreign soldiers,

the Syracusans rewarded them in honor of it with a hundred

minae, and the soldiers on their part presented Dion with a

crown of gold.

Soon after, there came heralds from Dionysius, bringing Dion

letters from the women of his family, and one addressed outside,

"To his father, from Hipparinus;" this was the name of Dion's

son, though Timaeus says, he was, from his mother Arete's name,

called Aretaeus; but I think credit is rather to be given to

Timonides's report, who was his father's fellow-soldier and

confidant. The rest of the letters were read publicly,

containing many solicitations and humble requests of the women;

that professing to be from his son, the heralds would not have

them open publicly, but Dion, putting force upon them, broke the

seal. It was from Dionysius, written in the terms of it to

Dion, but in effect to the Syracusans, and so worded that, under

a plausible justification of himself and entreaty to him, means

were taken for rendering him suspected by the people. It

reminded him of the good service he had formerly done the

usurping government, it added threats to his dearest relations,

his sister, son, and wife, if he did not comply with the

contents, also passionate demands mingled with lamentations,

and, most to the purpose of all, urgent recommendations to him

not to destroy the government, and put the power into the hands

of men who always hated him, and would never forget their old

piques and quarrels; let him take the sovereignty himself, and

so secure the safety of his family and his friends.

When this letter was read, the Syracusans were not, as they

should have been, transported with admiration at the unmovable

constancy and magnanimity of Dion, who withstood all his dearest

interests to be true to virtue and justice, but, on the

contrary, they saw in this their reason for fearing and

suspecting that he lay under an invincible necessity to be

favorable to Dionysius; and they began therefore to look out for

other leaders, and the rather, because to their great joy they

received the news that Heraclides was on his way. This

Heraclides was one of those whom Dionysius had banished, very

good soldier, and well known for the commands he had formerly

had under the tyrant; yet a man of no constant purpose, of a

fickle temper, and least of all to be relied upon when he had to

act with a colleague in any honorable command. He had had a

difference formerly with Dion in Peloponnesus, and had resolved,

upon his own means, with what ships and soldiers he had, to make

an attack upon Dionysius. When he arrived at Syracuse, with

seven galleys and three small vessels, he found Dionysius

already close besieged, and the Syracusans high and proud of

their victories. Forthwith, therefore, he endeavored by all

ways to make himself popular; and, indeed, he had in him

naturally something that was very insinuating and taking with a

populace that loves to be courted. He gained his end, also, the

easier, and drew the people over to his side, because of the

dislike they had taken to Dion's grave and stately manner, which

they thought overbearing and assuming; their successes having

made them so careless and confident, that they expected popular

arts and flatteries from their leaders, before they had in

reality secured a popular government.

Getting therefore together in an irregular assembly, they chose

Heraclides their admiral; but when Dion came forward, and told

them, that conferring this trust upon Heraclides was in effect

to withdraw that which they had granted him, for he was no

longer their generalissimo if another had the command of the

navy, they repealed their order, and, though much against their

wills, canceled the new appointment. When this business was

over, Dion invited Heraclides to his house, and pointed out to

him, in gentle terms, that he had not acted wisely or well to

quarrel with him upon a punctilio of honor, at a time when the

least false step might be the ruin of all; and then, calling a

fresh assembly of the people, he there named Heraclides admiral,

and prevailed with the citizens to allow him a life-guard, as he

himself had.

Heraclides openly professed the highest respect for Dion, and

made him great acknowledgments for this favor, attending him

with all deference, as ready to receive his commands; but

underhand he kept up his dealings with the populace and the

unrulier citizens, unsettling their minds and disturbing them

with his complaints, and putting Dion into the utmost perplexity

and disquiet. For if he advised to give Dionysius leave to quit

the castle, he would be exposed to the imputation of sparing and

protecting him; if, to avoid giving offense or suspicion, he

simply continued the siege, they would say he protracted the

war, to keep his office of general the longer, and overawe the

citizens.

There was one Sosis, notorious in the city for his bad conduct

and his impudence, yet a favorite with the people, for the very

reason that they liked to see it made a part of popular

privileges to carry free speech to this excess of license. This

man, out of a design against Dion, stood up one day in an

assembly, and, having sufficiently railed at the citizens as a

set of fools, that could not see how they had made an exchange

of a dissolute and drunken for a sober and watchful despotism,

and thus having publicly declared himself Dion's enemy, took his

leave. The next day, he was seen running through the streets,

as if he fled from some that pursued him, almost naked, wounded

in the head, and bloody all over. In this condition, getting

people about him in the marketplace, he told them that he had

been assaulted by Dion's men; and, to confirm what he said,

showed them the wounds he had received in his head. And a good

many took his part, exclaiming loudly against Dion for his cruel

and tyrannical conduct, stopping the mouths of the people by

bloodshed and peril of life. Just as an assembly was gathering

in this unsettled and tumultuous state of mind, Dion came before

them, and made it appear how this Sosis was brother to one of

Dionysius's guard, and that he was set on by him to embroil the

city in tumult and confusion; Dionysius having now no way left

for his security but to make his advantage of their dissensions

and distractions. The surgeons, also, having searched the

wound, found it was rather razed, than cut with a downright

blow; for the wounds made with a sword are, from their mere

weight, most commonly deepest in the middle, but this was very

slight, and all along of an equal depth; and it was not one

continued wound, as if cut at once, but several incisions, in

all probability made at several times, as he was able to endure

the pain. There were credible persons, also, who brought a

razor, and showed it in the assembly, stating that they met

Sosis running in the street, all bloody, who told them that he

was flying from Dion's soldiers, who had just attacked and

wounded him; they ran at once to look after them, and met no

one, but spied this razor lying under a hollow stone near the

place from which they observed he came.

Sosis was now likely to come by the worst of it. But when, to

back all this, his own servants came in, and gave evidence that

he had left his house alone before break of day, with the razor

in his hand, Dion's accusers withdrew themselves, and the people

by a general vote condemned Sosis to die, being once again well

satisfied with Dion and his proceedings.

Yet they were still as jealous as before of his soldiers, and

the rather, because the war was now carried on principally by

sea; Philistus being come from Iapygia with a great fleet to

Dionysius's assistance. They supposed, therefore, that there

would be no longer need of the soldiers, who were all landsmen

and armed accordingly: these were rather, indeed, they thought,

in a condition to be protected by themselves, who were seamen,

and had their power in their shipping. Their good opinion of

themselves was also much enhanced by an advantage they got in an

engagement by sea, in which they took Philistus prisoner, and

used him in a barbarous and cruel manner. Ephorus relates that

when he saw his ship was taken he slew himself. But Timonides,

who was with Dion from the very first, and was present at all

the events as they occurred, writing to Speusippus the

philosopher, relates the story thus: that Philistus's galley

running aground, he was taken prisoner alive, and first

disarmed, then stripped of his corslet, and exposed naked, being

now an old man, to every kind of contumely; after which they cut

off his head, and gave his body to the boys of the town, bidding

them drag it through the Achradina, and then throw it into the

Quarries. Timaeus, to increase the mockery, adds further, that

the boys tied him by his lame leg, and so drew him through the

streets, while the Syracusans stood by laughing and jesting at

the sight of that very man thus tied and dragged about by the

leg, who had told Dionysius, that, so far from flying on

horseback from Syracuse, he ought to wait till he should be

dragged out by the heels. Philistus, however, has stated, that

this was said to Dionysius by another, and not by himself.

Timaeus avails himself of this advantage, which Philistus truly

enough affords against himself in his zealous and constant

adherence to the tyranny, to vent his own spleen and malice

against him. They, indeed, who were injured by him at the time

are perhaps excusable, if they carried their resentment to the

length of indignities to his dead body; but they who write

history afterwards, and were noway wronged by him in his

lifetime, and have received assistance from his writings, in

honor should not with opprobrious and scurrilous language

upbraid him for those misfortunes, which may well enough befall

even the best of men. On the other side, Ephorus is as much out

of the way in his encomiums. For, however ingenious he is in

supplying unjust acts and wicked conduct with fair and worthy

motives, and in selecting decorous and honorable terms, yet when

he does his best, he does not himself stand clear of the charge

of being the greatest lover of tyrants, and the fondest admirer

of luxury and power and rich estates and alliances of marriage

with absolute princes. He that neither praises Philistus for

his conduct, nor insults over his misfortunes, seems to me to

take the fittest course.

After Philistus's death, Dionysius sent to Dion, offering to

surrender the castle, all the arms, provisions, and

garrison-soldiers, with full pay for them for five months,

demanding in return that he might have safe conduct to go

unmolested into Italy, and there to continue, and also to enjoy

the revenues of Gyarta, a large and fruitful territory belonging

to Syracuse, reaching from the sea-side to the middle of the

country. Dion rejected these proposals, and referred him to the

Syracusans. They, hoping in a short time to take Dionysius

alive, dismissed his ambassadors summarily. But he, leaving his

eldest son, Apollocrates, to defend the castle, and putting on

board his ships the persons and the property that he set most

value upon, took the opportunity of a fair wind, and made his

escape, undiscovered by the admiral Heraclides and his fleet.

The citizens loudly exclaimed against Heraclides for this

neglect; but he got one of their public speakers, Hippo by name,

to go among them, and make proposals to the assembly for a

redivision of lands, alleging that the first beginning of

liberty was equality, and that poverty and slavery were

inseparable companions. In support of this, Heraclides spoke,

and used the faction in favor of it to overpower Dion, who

opposed it; and, in fine, he persuaded the people to ratify it

by their vote, and further to decree, that the foreign soldiers

should receive no pay, and that they would elect new commanders,

and so be rid of Dion's oppression. The people, attempting, as

it were, after their long sickness of despotism, all at once to

stand on their legs, and to do the part, for which they were yet

unfit, of freemen, stumbled in all their actions; and yet hated

Dion, who, like a good physician, endeavored to keep the city to

a strict and temperate regimen.

When they met in the assembly to choose their commanders, about

the middle of summer, unusual and terrible thunders, with other

inauspicious appearances, for fifteen days together, dispersed

the people, deterring them, on grounds of religious fear, from

creating new generals. But, at last, the popular leaders,

having found a fair and clear day, and having got their party

together, were proceeding to an election, when a draught-ox, who

was used to the crowd and noise of the streets, but for some

reason or other grew unruly to his driver, breaking from his

yoke, ran furiously into the theater where they were assembled,

and set the people flying and running in all directions before

him in the greatest disorder and confusion; and from thence went

on, leaping and rushing about, over all that part of the city

which the enemies afterwards made themselves masters of.

However, the Syracusans, not regarding all this, elected five

and twenty captains, and, among the rest, Heraclides; and

underhand tampered with Dion's men, promising, if they would

desert him, and enlist themselves in their service, to make them

citizens of Syracuse, with all the privileges of natives. But

they would not hear the proposals, but, to show their fidelity

and courage, with their swords in their hands, placing Dion for

his security in the midst of their battalion, conveyed him out

of the city, not offering violence to anyone, but upbraiding

those they met with their baseness and ingratitude. The

citizens, seeing they were but few, and did not offer any

violence, despised them; and, supposing that with their large

numbers they might with ease overpower and cut them off before

they got out of the city, fell upon them in the rear.

Here Dion was in a great strait, being necessitated either to

fight against his own countrymen, or tamely suffer himself and

his faithful soldiers to be cut in pieces. He used many

entreaties to the Syracusans, stretching out his hands towards

the castle, that was full of their enemies, and showing them the

soldiers, who in great numbers appeared on the walls and watched

what was doing. But when no persuasions could divert the

impulse of the multitude, and the whole mass, like the sea in a

storm, seemed to be driven before the breath of the demagogues,

he commanded his men, not to charge them, but to advance with

shouts and clashing of their arms; which being done, not a man

of them stood his ground; all fled at once through the streets,

though none pursued them. For Dion immediately commanded his

men to face about, and led them towards the city of the

Leontines.

The very women laughed at the new captains for this retreat; so

to redeem their credit, they bid the citizens arm themselves

again, and followed after Dion, and came up with him as he was

passing a river. Some of the light-horse rode up and began to

skirmish. But when they saw Dion no more tame and calm, and no

signs in his face of any fatherly tenderness towards his

countrymen, but with an angry countenance, as resolved not to

suffer their indignities any longer, bidding his men face round

and form in their ranks for the onset, they presently turned

their backs more basely than before, and fled to the city, with

the loss of some few of their men.

The Leontines received Dion very honorably, gave money to his

men, and made them free of their city; sending envoys to the

Syracusans, to require them to do the soldiers justice, who, in

return, sent back other agents to accuse Dion. But when a

general meeting of the confederates met in the town of the

Leontines, and the matter was heard and debated, the Syracusans

were held to be in fault. They, however, refused to stand to

the award of their allies, following their own conceit, and

making it their pride to listen to no one, and not to have any

commanders but those who would fear and obey the people.

About this time, Dionysius sent in a fleet, under the command of

Nypsius the Neapolitan, with provisions and pay for the

garrison. The Syracusans fought him, had the better, and took

four of his ships; but they made very ill use of their good

success, and, for want of good discipline, fell in their joy to

drinking and feasting in an extravagant manner, with so little

regard to their main interest, that, when they thought

themselves sure of taking the castle, they actually lost their

city. Nypsius, seeing the citizens in this general disorder,

spending day and night in their drunken singing and reveling,

and their commanders well pleased with the frolic, or at least

not daring to try and give any orders to men in their drink,

took advantage of this opportunity, made a sally, and stormed

their works; and, having made his way through these, let his

barbarians loose upon the city, giving up it and all that were

in it to their pleasure.

The Syracusans quickly saw their folly and misfortune, but could

not, in the distraction they were in, so soon redress it. The

city was in actual process of being sacked, the enemy putting

the men to the sword, demolishing the fortifications, and

dragging the women and children with lamentable shrieks and

cries prisoners into the castle. The commanders, giving all for

lost, were not able to put the citizens in any tolerable posture

of defense, finding them confusedly mixed up and scattered among

the enemy. While they were in this condition, and the Achradina

in danger to be taken, everyone was sensible who he was in whom

all their remaining hopes rested, but no man for shame durst

name Dion, whom they had so ungratefully and foolishly dealt

with. Necessity at last forcing them, some of the auxiliary

troops and horsemen cried out, "Send for Dion and his

Peloponnesians from the Leontines." No sooner was the venture

made and the name heard among the people, but they gave a shout

for joy, and, with tears in their eyes, wished him there, that

they might once again see that leader at the head of them, whose

courage and bravery in the worst of dangers they well

remembered, calling to mind not only with what an undaunted

spirit he always behaved himself, but also with what courage and

confidence he inspired them when he led them against the enemy.

They immediately, therefore, dispatched Archonides and Telesides

of the confederate troops, and of the horsemen Hellanicus and

four others. These, traversing the road between at their

horses' full speed, reached the town of the Leontines in the

evening. The first thing they did was to leap from their horses

and fall at Dion's feet, relating with tears the sad condition

the Syracusans were in. Many of the Leontines and

Peloponnesians began to throng about them, guessing by their

speed and the manner of their address that something

extraordinary had occurred.

Dion at once led the way to the assembly, and, the people being

gathered together in a very little time, Archonides and

Hellanicus and the others came in among them, and in short

declared the misery and distress of the Syracusans, begging the

foreign soldiers to forget the injuries they had received, and

assist the afflicted, who had suffered more for the wrong they

had done, than they themselves who received it would (had it

been in their power) have inflicted upon them. When they had

made an end, there was a profound silence in the theater; Dion

then stood up, and began to speak, but tears stopped his words;

his soldiers were troubled at his grief, but bade him take good

courage and proceed. When he had recovered himself a little,

therefore, "Men of Peloponnesus," he said, "and of the

confederacy, I asked for your presence here, that you might

consider your own interests. For myself, I have no interests to

consult while Syracuse is perishing, and, though I may not save

it from destruction, I will nevertheless hasten thither, and be

buried in the ruins of my country. Yet if you can find in your

hearts to assist us, the most inconsiderate and unfortunate of

men, you may to your eternal honor again retrieve this unhappy

city. But if the Syracusans can obtain no more pity nor relief

from you, may the gods reward you for what you have formerly

valiantly done for them, and for your kindness to Dion, of whom

speak hereafter as one who deserted you not when you were

injured and abused, nor afterwards forsook his fellow-citizens

in their afflictions and misfortunes."

Before he had yet ended his speech, the soldiers leapt up, and

with a great shout testified their readiness for the service,

crying out, to march immediately to the relief of the city. The

Syracusan messengers hugged and embraced them, praying the Gods

to send down blessings upon Dion and the Peloponnesians. When

the noise was pretty well over, Dion gave orders that all should

go to their quarters to prepare for their march, and, having

refreshed themselves, come ready armed to their rendezvous in

the place where they now were, resolving that very night to

attempt the rescue.

Now at Syracuse, Dionysius's soldiers, as long as day continued,

ransacked the city, and did all the mischief they could; but

when night came on, they retired into the castle, having lost

some few of their number. At which the factious ringleaders

taking heart, and hoping the enemy would rest content with what

they had done and make no further attempt upon them, persuaded

the people again to reject Dion, and, if he came with the

foreign soldiers, not to admit him; advising them not to yield,

as inferior to them in point of honor and courage, but to save

their city and defend their liberties and properties themselves.

The populace, therefore, and their leaders sent messengers to

Dion to forbid him to advance, while the noble citizens and the

horse sent others to him to desire him to hasten his march; for

which reason he slacked his pace, yet did not remit his advance.

And in the course of the night, the faction that was against him

set a guard upon the gates of the city to hinder him from coming

in. But Nypsius made another sally out of the castle with a far

greater number of men, and those far more bold and eager than

before, who quite ruined what of the rampart was left standing,

and fell in, pell-mell, to sack and ravage the city. The

slaughter was now very great, not only of the men, but of the

women also and children; for they regarded not so much the

plunder, as to destroy and kill all they met. For Dionysius,

despairing to regain the kingdom, and mortally hating the

Syracusans, resolved to bury his lost sovereignty in the ruin

and desolation of Syracuse. The soldiers, therefore, to

anticipate Dion's succors, resolved upon the most complete and

ready way of destruction, to lay the city in ashes, firing all

at hand with torches and lamps, and at distance with flaming

arrows, shot from their bows. The citizens fled every way

before them; they who, to avoid the fire, forsook their houses

were taken in the streets and put to the sword; they who betook

themselves for refuge into the houses were forced out again by

the flames, many buildings being now in a blaze, and many

falling in ruins upon them as they fled past.

This fresh misfortune by general consent opened the gates for

Dion. He had given up his rapid advance, when he received

advice that the enemies were retreated into the castle; but, in

the morning, some horse brought him the news of another assault,

and, soon after, some of those who before opposed his coming

fled now to him, to entreat him he would hasten his relief. The

pressure increasing, Heraclides sent his brother, and after him

his uncle, Theodotes, to beg him to help them: for that now they

were not able to resist any longer; he himself was wounded, and

the greatest part of the city either in ruins or in flames.

When Dion met this sad news, he was about sixty furlongs distant

from the city. When he had acquainted the soldiers with the

exigency, and exhorted them to behave themselves like men, the

army no longer marched but ran forwards, and by the way were met

by messengers upon messengers entreating them to make haste. By

the wonderful eagerness of the soldiers and their extraordinary

speed, Dion quickly came to the city and entered what is called

the Hecatompedon, sending his light-armed men at once to charge

the enemy, that, seeing them, the Syracusans might take courage.

In the meantime, he drew up in good order his full-armed men

and all the citizens that came in and joined him; forming his

battalions deep, and distributing his officers in many separate

commands, that he might, be able to attack from many quarters at

once, and so he more alarming to the enemy.

So, having made his arrangements and offered vows to the gods,

when he was seen in the streets advancing at the head of his men

to engage the enemy, a confused noise of shouts,

congratulations, vows, and prayers was raised by the Syracusans,

who now called Dion their deliverer and tutelar deity, and his

soldiers their friends, brethren, and fellow-citizens. And,

indeed, at that moment, none seemed to regard themselves, or

value their safeties, but to be concerned more for Dion's life

than for all their own together, as he marched at the head of

them to meet the danger, through blood and fire and over heaps

of dead bodies that lay in his way.

And indeed the posture of the enemy was in appearance terrible;

for they were flushed and ferocious with victory, and had posted

themselves very advantageously along the demolished works, which

made the access to them very hazardous and difficult. Yet that

which disturbed Dion's soldiers most was the apprehension they

were in of the fire, which made their march very trouble some

and difficult; for the houses being in flames on al] sides, they

were met everywhere with the blaze, and, treading upon burning

ruins and every minute in danger of being overwhelmed with

falling houses, through clouds of ashes and smoke they labored

hard to keep their order and maintain their ranks. When they

came near to the enemy, the approach was so narrow and uneven

that but few of them could engage at a time; but at length, with

loud cheers and much zeal on the part of the Syracusans,

encouraging them and joining with them, they beat off Nypsius's

men, and put them to flight. Most of them escaped into the

castle, which was near at hand; all that could not get in were

pursued and picked up here and there by the soldiers, and put to

the sword. The present exigency, however, did not suffer the

citizens to take immediate benefit of their victory in such

mutual congratulations and embraces as became so great a

success; for now all were busily employed to save what houses

were left standing, laboring hard all night, and scarcely so

could master the fire.

The next day, not one of the popular haranguers durst stay in

the city, but all of them, knowing their own guilt, by their

flight confessed it, and secured their lives. Only Heraclides

and Theodotes went voluntarily and surrendered themselves to

Dion, acknowledging that they had wronged him, and begging he

would be kinder to them than they had been just to him; adding,

how much it would become him who was master of so many excellent

accomplishments, to moderate his anger and be generously

compassionate to ungrateful men, who were here before him,

making their confession, that, in all the matter of their former

enmity and rivalry against him, they were now absolutely

overcome by his virtue. Though they thus humbly addressed him,

his friends advised him not to pardon these turbulent and

ill-conditioned men, but to yield them to the desires of his

soldiers, and utterly root out of the commonwealth the ambitious

affectation of popularity, a disease as pestilent and pernicious

as the passion for tyranny itself. Dion endeavored to satisfy

them, telling them that other generals exercised and trained

themselves for the most part in the practices of war and arms;

but that he had long studied in the Academy how to conquer

anger, and not let emulation and envy conquer him; that to do

this it is not sufficient that a man be obliging and kind to his

friends, and those that have deserved well of him, but rather,

gentle and ready to forgive in the case of those who do wrong;

that he wished to let the world see that he valued not himself

so much upon excelling Heraclides in ability and conduct, as he

did in outdoing him in justice and clemency; herein to have the

advantage is to excel indeed; whereas the honor of success in

war is never entire; fortune will be sure to dispute it, though

no man should pretend to have a claim. What if Heraclides be

perfidious, malicious, and base, must Dion therefore sully or

injure his virtue by passionate concern for it? For, though the

laws determine it juster to revenge an injury than to do an

injury, yet it is evident that both, in the nature of things,

originally proceed from the same deficiency and weakness. The

malicious humor of men, though perverse and refractory, is not

so savage and invincible but it may be wrought upon by kindness,

and altered by repeated obligations. Dion, making use of these

arguments, pardoned and dismissed Heraclides and Theodotes.

And now, resolving to repair the blockade about the castle, he

commanded all the Syracusans to cut each man a stake and bring

it to the works; and then, dismissing them to refresh

themselves, and take their rest, he employed his own men all

night, and by morning had finished his line of palisade; so that

both the enemy and the citizens wondered, when day returned, to

see the work so far advanced in so short a time. Burying

therefore the dead, and redeeming the prisoners, who were near

two thousand, he called a public assembly, where Heraclides made

a motion that Dion should be declared general with full powers

at land and sea. The better citizens approved well of it, and

called on the people to vote it so. But the mob of sailors and

handicraftsmen would not yield that Heraclides should lose his

command of the navy; believing him, if otherwise an ill man, at

any rate to be more citizenlike than Dion, and readier to comply

with the people. Dion therefore submitted to them in this, and

consented Heraclides should continue admiral. But when they

began to press the project of the redistribution of lands and

houses, he not only opposed it, but repealed all the votes they

had formerly made upon that account, which sensibly vexed them.

Heraclides, therefore, took a new advantage of him, and, being

at Messene, harangued the soldiers and ships' crews that sailed

with him, accusing Dion that he had a design to make himself

absolute. And yet at the same time he held private

correspondence for a treaty with Dionysius by means of Pharax

the Spartan. Which when the noble citizens of Syracuse had

intimation of, there arose a sedition in the army, and the city

was in great distress and want of provisions; and Dion now knew

not what course to take, being also blamed by all his friends

for having thus fortified against himself such a perverse and

jealous and utterly corrupted man as Heraclides was.

Pharax at this time lay encamped at Neapolis, in the territory

of Agrigentum. Dion, therefore, led out the Syracusans, but

with an intent not to engage him till he saw a fit opportunity.

But Heraclides and his seamen exclaimed against him, that he

delayed fighting on purpose that he might the longer continue

his command; so that, much against his will, he was forced to an

engagement and was beaten, his loss however being

inconsiderable, and that occasioned chiefly by the dissension

that was in the army. He rallied his men, and, having put them

in good order and encouraged them to redeem their credit,

resolved upon a second battle. But, in the evening, he received

advice that Heraclides with his fleet was on his way to

Syracuse, with the purpose to possess himself of the city and

keep him and his army out. Instantly, therefore, taking with

him some of the strongest and most active of his men, he rode

off in the dark, and about nine the next morning was at the

gates, having ridden seven hundred furlongs that night.

Heraclides, though he strove to make all the speed he could,

yet, coming too late, tacked and stood out again to sea; and,

being unresolved what course to steer, accidentally he met

Gaesylus the Spartan, who told him he was come from Lacedaemon

to head the Sicilians, as Gylippus had formerly done.

Heraclides was only too glad to get hold of him, and fastening

him as it might be a sort of amulet to himself, he showed him to

the confederates, and sent a herald to Syracuse to summon them

to accept the Spartan general. Dion returned answer that they

had generals enough, and, if they wanted a Spartan to command

them, he could supply that office, being himself a citizen of

Sparta. When Gaesylus saw this, he gave up all pretensions, and

sailed in to Dion, and reconciled Heraclides to him, making

Heraclides swear the most solemn oaths to perform what he

engaged, Gaesylus himself also undertaking to maintain Dion's

right, and inflict chastisement on Heraclides if he broke his

faith.

The Syracusans then laid up their navy, which was at present a

great charge and of little use to them, but an occasion of

differences and dissensions among the generals, and pressed on

the siege, finishing the wall of blockade with which they

invested the castle. The besieged, seeing no hopes of succors

and their provisions failing, began to mutiny; so that the son

of Dionysius, in despair of holding out longer for his father,

capitulated, and articled with Dion to deliver up the castle

with all the garrison soldiers and ammunition; and so, taking

his mother and sisters and manning five galleys, he set out to

go to his father, Dion seeing him safely out, and scarce a man

in all the city not being there to behold the sight, as indeed

they called even on those that were not present, out of pity

that they could not be there, to see this happy day and the sun

shining on a free Syracuse. And as this expulsion of Dionysius

is even now always cited as one of the greatest and most

remarkable examples of fortune's vicissitudes, how extraordinary

may we imagine their joy to have been, and how entire their

satisfaction, who had totally subverted the most potent tyranny

that ever was by very slight and inconsiderable means!

When Apollocrates was gone, and Dion coming to take possession

of the castle, the women could not stay while he made his entry,

but ran to meet him at the gate. Aristomache led Dion's son,

and Arete followed after weeping, fearful and dubious how to

salute or address her husband, after living with another man.

Dion first embraced his sister, then his son; when Aristomache

bringing Arete to him, "O Dion," said she, "your banishment made

us all equally miserable; your return and victory has canceled

all sorrows, excepting this poor sufferer's, whom I, unhappy,

saw compelled to be another's, while you were yet alive.

Fortune has now given you the sole disposal of us; how will you

determine concerning her hard fate? In what relation must she

salute you as her uncle, or as her husband?" This speech of

Aristomache's brought tears from Dion, who with great affection

embraced his wife, gave her his son, and desired her to retire

to his own house, where he continued to reside when he had

delivered up the castle to the Syracusans.

For though all things had now succeeded to his wish, yet he

desired not to enjoy any present advantage of his good fortune,

except to gratify his friends, reward his allies, and bestow

upon his companions of former time in Athens and the soldiers

that had served him some special mark of kindness and honor,

striving herein to outdo his very means in his generosity. As

for himself, he was content with a very frugal and moderate

competency, and was indeed the wonder of all men, that when not

only Sicily and Carthage, but all Greece looked to him as in the

height of prosperity, and no man living greater than he, no

general more renowned for valor and success, yet in his garb,

his attendance, his table, he seemed as if he rather commoned

with Plato in the Academy than lived among hired captains and

paid soldiers, whose solace of their toils and dangers it is to

eat and drink their fill, and enjoy themselves plentifully every

day. Plato indeed wrote to him that the eyes of all the world

were now upon him; but it is evident that he himself had fixed

his eye upon one place in one city, the Academy, and considered

that the spectators and judges there regarded not great actions,

courage, or fortune, but watched to see how temperately and

wisely he could use his prosperity, how evenly he could behave

himself in the high condition he now was in. Neither did he

remit anything of his wonted stateliness in conversation or

serious carriage to the people; he made it rather a point to

maintain it, notwithstanding that a little condescension and

obliging civility were very necessary for his present affairs;

and Plato, as we said before, rebuked him, and wrote to tell him

that self-will keeps house with solitude. But certainly his

natural temperament was one that could not bend to complaisance;

and, besides, he wished to work the Syracusans back the other

way, out of their present excess of license and caprice.

Heraclides began again to set up against him, and, being invited

by Dion to make one of the Council, refused to come, saying he

would give his opinion as a private citizen in the public

assembly. Next he complained of Dion because he had not

demolished the citadel, and because he had hindered the people

from throwing down Dionysius's tomb and doing despite to the

dead; moreover he accused him for sending to Corinth for

counselors and assistants in the government, thereby neglecting

and slighting his fellow-citizens. And indeed he had sent

messages for some Corinthians to come to him, hoping by their

means and presence the better to settle that constitution he

intended; for he designed to suppress the unlimited democratic

government, which indeed is not a government, but, as Plato

calls it, a marketplace of governments, and to introduce and

establish a mixed polity, on the Spartan and Cretan model,

between a commonwealth and a monarchy, wherein an aristocratic

body should preside, and determine all matters of greatest

consequence; for he saw also that the Corinthians were chiefly

governed by something like an oligarchy, and the people but

little concerned in public business.

Now knowing that Heraclides would be his most considerable

adversary, and that in all ways he was a turbulent, fickle, and

factious man, he gave way to some whom formerly he hindered when

they designed to kill him, who, breaking in, murdered Heraclides

in his own house. His death was much resented by the citizens.

Nevertheless, when Dion made him a splendid funeral, followed

the dead body with all his soldiers, and then addressed them,

they understood that it would have been impossible to have kept

the city quiet, as long as Dion and Heraclides were competitors

in the government.

Dion had a friend called Callippus, an Athenian, who, Plato

says, first made acquaintance and afterwards obtained

familiarity with him, not from any connection with his

philosophic studies, but on occasion afforded by the celebration

of the mysteries, and in the way of ordinary society. This man

went with him in all his military service, and was in great

honor and esteem; being the first of his friends who marched by

his side into Syracuse, wearing a garland upon his head, having

behaved himself very well in all the battles, and made himself

remarkable for his gallantry. He, finding that Dion's principal

and most considerable friends were cut off in the war,

Heraclides now dead, and the people without a leader, and that

the soldiers had a great kindness for him, like a perfidious and

wicked villain, in hopes to get the chief command of Sicily as

his reward for the ruin of his friend and benefactor, and, as

some say, being also bribed by the enemy with twenty talents to

destroy Dion, inveigled and engaged several of the soldiers in a

conspiracy against him, taking this cunning and wicked occasion

for his plot. He daily informed Dion of what he heard or what

he feigned the soldiers said against him; whereby he gained that

credit and confidence, that he was allowed by Dion to consort

privately with whom he would, and talk freely against him in any

company, that he might discover who were his secret and factious

maligners. By this means, Callippus in a short time got

together a cabal of all the seditious malcontents in the city;

and if anyone who would not be drawn in advised Dion that he

was tampered with, he was not troubled or concerned at it,

believing Callippus did it in compliance with his directions.

While this conspiracy was afoot, a strange and dreadful

apparition was seen by Dion. As he sat one evening in a gallery

in his house alone and thoughtful, hearing a sudden noise he

turned about, and saw at the end of the colonnade, by clear

daylight, a tall woman, in her countenance and garb like one of

the tragical Furies, with a broom in her hand, sweeping the

floor. Being amazed and extremely affrighted, he sent for some

of his friends, and told them what he had seen, entreating them

to stay with him and keep him company all night; for he was

excessively discomposed and alarmed, fearing that if he were

left alone the specter would again appear to him. He saw it no

more. But a few days after, his only son, being almost grown up

to man's estate, upon some displeasure and pet he had taken upon

a childish and frivolous occasion, threw himself headlong from

the top of the house and broke his neck.

While Dion was under this affliction, Callippus drove on his

conspiracy, and spread a rumor among the Syracusans, that Dion,

being now childless, was resolved to send for Dionysius's son,

Apollocrates, who was his wife's nephew and sister's grandson,

and make him his heir and successor. By this time, Dion and his

wife and sister began to suspect what was doing, and from all

hands information came to them of the plot. Dion, being

troubled, it is probable, for Heraclides's murder, which was

like to be a blot and stain upon his life and actions, in

continual weariness and vexation, declared he had rather die a

thousand times, and open his breast himself to the assassin,

than live not only in fear of his enemies but suspicion of his

friends. But Callippus, seeing the women very inquisitive to

search to the bottom of the business, took alarm, and came to

them, utterly denying it with tears in his eyes, and offering to

give them whatever assurances of his fidelity they desired.

They required that he should take the Great Oath, which was

after this manner. The juror went into the sanctuary of Ceres

and Proserpine, where, after the performance of some ceremonies,

he was clad in the purple vestment of the goddess, and, holding

a lighted torch in his hand, took his oath. Callippus did as

they required, and forswore the fact. And indeed he so little

valued the goddesses, that he stayed but till the very festival

of Proserpine, by whom he had sworn, and on that very day

committed his intended murder; as truly he might well enough

disregard the day, since he must at any other time as impiously

offend her, when he who had acted as her initiating priest

should shed the blood of her worshiper.

There were a great many in the conspiracy; and as Dion was at

home with several of his friends in a room with tables for

entertainment in it, some of the conspirators beset the house

around, others secured the doors and windows. The actual

intended murderers were some Zacynthians, who went inside in

their under-dresses without swords. Those outside shut the

doors upon them and kept them fast. The murderers fell on Dion,

endeavoring to stifle and crush him; then, finding they were

doing nothing, they called for a sword, but none durst open the

door. There were a great many within with Dion, but everyone

was for securing himself, supposing that by letting him lose his

life he should save his own, and therefore no man ventured to

assist him. When they had waited a good while, at length Lycon

the Syracusan reached a short sword in at the window to one of

the Zacynthians, and thus, like a victim at a sacrifice, this

long time in their power, and trembling for the blow, they

killed him. His sister, and wife big with child, they hurried

to prison, who poor lady, in her unfortunate condition was there

brought to bed of a son, which, by the consent of the keepers,

they intended to bring up, the rather because Callippus began

already to be embroiled in troubles.

After the murder of Dion, he was in great glory, and had the

sole government of Syracuse in his hands; and to that effect

wrote to Athens, a place which, next the immortal gods, being

guilty of such an abominable crime, he ought to have regarded

with shame and fear. But true it is, what is said of that city,

that the good men she breeds are the most excellent, and the bad

the most notorious; as their country also produces the most

delicious honey and the most deadly hemlock. Callippus,

however, did not long continue to scandalize fortune and upbraid

the gods with his prosperity, as though they connived at and

bore with the wretched man, while he purchased riches and power

by heinous impieties, but he quickly received the punishment he

deserved. For, going to take Catana, he lost Syracuse;

whereupon they report he said, he had lost a city and got a

bauble. Then, attempting Messena, he had most of his men cut

off, and, among the rest, Dion's murderers. When no city in

Sicily would admit him, but all hated and abhorred him, he went

into Italy and took Rhegium; and there, being in distress and

not able to maintain his soldiers, he was killed by Leptines and

Polysperchon, and, as fortune would have it with the same sword

by which Dion was murdered, which was known by the size, being

but short, as the Spartan swords, and the workmanship of it very

curious and artificial. Thus Callippus received the reward of

his villanies.

When Aristomache and Arete were released out of prison, Hicetes,

one of Dion's friends, took them to his house, and seemed to

intend to entertain them well and like a faithful friend.

Afterwards, being persuaded by Dion's enemies, he provided a

ship and pretended to send them into Peloponnesus, but commanded

the sailors, when they came out to sea, to kill them and throw

them overboard. Others say that they and the little boy were

thrown alive into the sea. This man also escaped not the due

recompense of his wickedness, for he was taken by Timoleon and

put to death, and the Syracusans, to revenge Dion, slew his two

daughters; of all which I have given a more particular account

in the life of Timoleon.