Chapter IV: Part 4

Gordius was a sort of mountain farmer. One day he was plowing, and an eagle flew down and alighted upon his yoke, and remained there until he had finished his plowing. This was an omen; but Gordius did not know what it meant. So he went to a neighboring town to consult the prophets and soothsayers. On his way he met a maiden who was going forth to draw water. Gordius fell into conversation with her, and related to her the occurrence which had just transpired. The maiden advised him to go back and offer a sacrifice to Jupiter. Finally she consented to go back with him and aid him. The affair ended in her becoming his wife, and they lived in peace and happiness for many years upon their farm. They had a son named Midas. The father and mother were accustomed to go out in their wagon drawn by oxen, with Midas as their driver. One day they were going into the town in this manner, at a time when it happened that there was an assembly convened, which was in a state of great perplexity, on account of civil dissensions in the country. They had just inquired of an oracle what they should do. The oracle said that “a cart would bring them a king who would terminate their eternal broils.” Just then Midas came up, driving the cart in which his father and mother were seated. The assembly thought at once that this must be the cart meant by the oracle, and they made Gordius king by acclamation. They took the cart and yoke to preserve as sacred relics, consecrating them to Jupiter, and Gordius tied the yoke to the pole of the cart by a thong of leather, making a knot so close and complicated that nobody could untie it again. It was called the Gordian knot. The oracle afterwards said that whoever should untie this knot should become monarch of all Asia. Thus far, nobody had succeeded.

Alexander was very desirous of examining this wonderful knot and trying his own fortune. He accordingly went into the temple where the sacred cart had been placed, and after looking at the knot, he became convinced that it could not be untied, whereupon he cut it to pieces with his sword.

From this story comes the old saying, when any one gets out of a difficulty by very violent means, “He has cut the Gordian knot.”

After leaving Gordium, Alexander proceeded with his whole army against Darius, who was now advancing to meet him.

On a very warm day, after a long and fatiguing march, the Grecian army reached the river Cydnus, a small stream which came down from Mount Taurus, near the city of Tarsus. Alexander, warm and weary, plunged into the cold mountain stream, and was taken with a violent chill, and as he was lifted out of the water, he fainted away. He was borne to his tent. A severe and protracted fever came on. Alexander bewailed this enforced delay, and summoned his physicians, to whom he said,—

“The present condition of my affairs will not admit either of slow remedies or fearful physicians. A speedy death is more eligible to me than a slow cure. In case the physicians think it is in their power to do me any good, they are to know that I do not so much wish to live as to fight.”

All his physicians but one, however, were afraid to dare any violent and hazardous remedies, especially as an unfavorable result would endanger their honor; for Darius had published that he would reward with a thousand talents the man who should kill Alexander.

His old family physician, named Philip, who had attended him from childhood, offered to give him a dose of medicine which would be speedy in its effects, but desired three days to prepare it. During this interval of waiting Alexander received a letter from Parmenio, who had been left behind in Cappadocia, warning him against this physician Philip, and stating that Darius had bribed him by promising a thousand talents, and his sister in marriage. Alexander courageously refrained from divulging its contents, and placed the letter under his pillow.

When Philip entered the tent with the medicine, Alexander took the cup, and handing the letter at the same time to the physician, he swallowed the dose without waiting his perusal of it. After reading the letter, Philip replied,—

“Royal sir, your recovery will soon clear me of the guilt of murder, with which I am charged.”

Three days after, Alexander showed himself to his army, who were filled with delight at his wonderful recovery; and the accused physician was now the recipient of the most lavish praises, and looked upon with the deepest reverence, because he had saved the life of their sovereign.

Slowly Darius marched in stately grandeur to meet his advancing enemy. A description of his martial procession reads more like a picture of a grand tournament than the march of an army. One of the historians thus describes this gorgeous pageant:—

“The king advanced with his troops towards the Euphrates. It was a custom long used by the Persians never to set out upon a march till after sunrise, at which time the trumpet was sounded for that purpose from the king’s tent. Over this tent was exhibited to the view of the whole army the image of the sun set in crystal, as the Persians were worshippers of the sun and fire.

“The order they observed in their march was as follows: First, they carried silver altars, on which there was fire, called by them sacred and eternal; and these were followed by the Magi, singing hymns after the manner of their country. They were accompanied by three hundred and sixty-five youths, corresponding to the number of days in a year, clothed in purple robes. Afterwards came a chariot consecrated to Jupiter, drawn by white horses, and followed by a courser of a prodigious size, to whom they gave the name of the sun’s horse; and the equerries were dressed in white, each having a rod of gold in his hand.

“Ten chariots, adorned with sculptures in gold and silver, followed after. Then marched a body of horse, composed of twelve nations, whose manners and customs were various, and all armed in a different style. Next advanced those whom the Persians called the Immortals, amounting to ten thousand, who surpassed the rest of the barbarians in the sumptuousness of their apparel. They all wore gold collars, were clothed in robes of gold tissues, with surtouts completely covered with precious stones. Then followed those called the king’s relations, to the number of fifteen thousand, in habits very much resembling those worn by women, and more remarkable for the vain pomp of their dress than the glitter of their arms. Then came the king’s guards; they carried the cloak of the monarch, and walked before his chariot, in which he seemed to sit as on a high throne. This chariot was enriched on both sides with images of the gods in gold and silver; and from the middle of the yoke, which was covered with jewels, rose two statues a cubit in height, the one representing war, the other peace, having a gold eagle between them, with wings extended, as ready to take its flight.

“But nothing could equal the magnificence of the king. He was clothed in a vest of purple, striped with silver, and over it a long robe glittering all over with gold and precious stones, that represented two falcons rushing from the clouds and pecking at one another. Around his waist he wore a gold girdle, called cidaris, after the manner of women, from which hung his scimitar, the scabbard of which flamed all over with gems. On his head he wore a tiara, or mitre, round which was a fillet of blue mixed with white. On each side of him walked two hundred of his nearest relations, followed by ten thousand pikemen, whose pikes were adorned with silver and tipped with gold; and lastly, thirty thousand infantry, who composed the rear-guard. These were followed by the king’s horses, four hundred in number, all of which were led.

“Then came the chariots of his wife Statira and his mother Sysigambis, with the several female attendants of both queens, riding on horseback. After them came fifteen large chariots, in which were the king’s children and those who had the care of their education, escorted by a band of household officers. Then followed three hundred and sixty carriages, containing the ladies of the court, dressed in the costumes of princesses.

“After these marched six hundred mules and three hundred camels, which carried the king’s treasure, and were guarded by a great body of archers. After these came other chariots, in which rode the wives of the crown officers and of the greatest lords of the court; then the sutlers and servants of the army. In the rear were a body of light-armed troops, with their commanders, who closed the imposing procession.”

Darius, at the head of six hundred thousand men, and surrounded with this mighty pomp, considered himself invincible, and imagined that he had only to show his gorgeous army to the few Grecian troops led by the boy Alexander, in order to inspire such awe as should cause them to fly in terror.

The two opposing forces came in sight of each other upon a plain near the city of Issus. It was now evening. At midnight the army of Alexander had reached a defile in the chain of mountains called Mount Taurus. Among these mountains there are various tracts of open country, and upon one of these the army of Darius was encamped. Alexander ascended one of the eminences from whence he could look down upon the great plain beyond, which was dimly illuminated by the smouldering fires of the Persian encampment. Alexander there sacrificed by torchlight to the gods of the Grecians, and returning to his army, prepared for an early conflict. In the morning, at break of day, Alexander began his march down to the plain. The battle waged hotly all day, and at sunset all the valleys and defiles around the plain of Issus were thronged with the vast masses of the Persian hosts, flying in confusion from the victorious Macedonians. The flight of Darius had been so sudden that he had left his wife and mother and children and much of his treasure behind in the deserted camp. He pressed on in his chariot as far as he could, and then mounted a horse and fled for his life. Alexander and his army soon abandoned the pursuit, and returned to take possession of the Persian camp. The tents of King Darius were filled with gold and silver vessels, caskets, boxes of rich perfumes, and many articles of luxury. The greater part of his vast treasures, however, he had previously sent to Damascus, where they were afterwards captured by Parmenio. So that Alexander came into possession of all his splendid treasures, upon which he had so prided himself. Alexander treated the captive wife, mother, and children of Darius with great kindness, and gave them every attention he would have paid to honored guests.

Darius got together a small remnant of his army and continued his flight. After he had crossed the Euphrates, he sent an ambassador to Alexander to make propositions for peace. He offered him any sum he desired as a ransom for his wife, mother, and child, and agreed to become his ally and friend if he would deliver them up and depart to his own dominions. Alexander replied by a brief letter. He reminded him that the Persians had been the first to invade Greece. “I am acting only on the defensive,” wrote Alexander. “The gods, who always favor the right, have given me the victory. I am now monarch of a large part of Asia, and your sovereign king. If you will admit this, and come to me as my subject, I will restore your wife, mother, and child without any ransom. And, at any rate, whatever you decide in respect to these proposals, if you wish to communicate with me on any subject hereafter, I shall pay no attention to what you send unless you address it to me as your king.”

As the vast army of the Persian king had now been defeated, none of the smaller kingdoms or provinces thought of resisting. They yielded one after another, and Alexander appointed governors of his own to rule over them. He then advanced along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, until he reached the city of Tyre.

The Tyrians wished to avoid a quarrel if possible, and so sent complimentary congratulations to Alexander, presenting him with a golden crown. Alexander replied courteously, and stated that his reason for coming to Tyre was to offer sacrifices to Hercules, a god whom the Tyrians worshipped. The Tyrians, fearful of allowing him to enter the city, sent him word that it would not be in their power to receive him in the city, but that he could offer the sacrifice on the site of ancient Tyre, as there was a temple sacred to Hercules among the ruins there.

This answer displeased Alexander, and he now determined to build a broad causeway from the mainland to the island upon which the present city of Tyre stood. This causeway he would build out of the ruins of old Tyre, and then march his army over it and take the new city. His soldiers accordingly commenced this work. But the Tyrians constantly harassed the workers; now attacking them with arrows and javelins; then they took a large galley and filled it with combustibles, and towing it near the enemy’s works, they set fire to it; and putting it in motion towards the pier where there was the largest collection of engines and machines, the vessel drifted down upon Alexander’s works, and notwithstanding the most strenuous efforts of the Macedonians, the whole mass was destroyed. Not long after this the sea itself came to the aid of the Tyrians, and a fearful storm destroyed the portions of the work which had escaped the fire. Whereupon the Tyrians deridingly inquired, “Whether Alexander was greater than Neptune, and if they pretended to prevail over that God?”

But Alexander was not to be defeated by fire, or storm, or the hostile Tyrians, and again ordered his men to repair the pier. Meanwhile, Alexander himself collected and equipped a fleet, and sailed into the Tyrian seas.

The fleet of galleys now protected the men at work on the pier, and Alexander began to prepare for the final assault. He proposed to force his entrance on the southern side of the city, where there was a large breach in the wall.

The plan was successful. He prepared a number of ships, with platforms raised upon them in such a manner that on getting near the walls they could be let down, and form a sort of bridge, over which the men could pass to the broken fragments of the wall, and thence ascend through the breach above.

The ships advanced to the proposed place of landing. The bridges were lowered, and before the Tyrians realized their danger the city was filled with thirty thousand infuriated soldiers, who showed them no mercy. Thus the city was stormed.

Alexander here displayed a brutal ferocity which tarnished the brightness of his victory. The inhabitants were put to the sword, some were executed, some thrown into the sea; and it is said that two thousand were crucified along the seashore.

Prosperity and power were beginning to exert a baneful influence upon the character of Alexander. He became haughty, imperious, and cruel. About this time Darius sent him a second communication, proposing terms of peace. Darius offered him a large sum of money for the ransom of his wife, mother, and child, and agreed to give him all the country he had conquered. He also offered him his daughter Statira in marriage. He recommended that he should be content with his conquests, and added that he could not hope to succeed in crossing the mighty rivers of the East, which were in the way of his march toward the Persian dominions.

Alexander replied “that if he wished to marry the daughter of Darius, he could do it without his consent; as to ransom, he was not in want of money; and as to the offer of Darius to give him all the territory west of the Euphrates, it was absurd for a man to speak of giving what was no longer his own; that he had crossed too many seas in his military expeditions, since he left Macedon, to feel any concern about the _rivers_ that he might find in his way; and that he should continue to pursue Darius wherever he might retreat in search of safety and protection, and he had no fear but that he should find and conquer him at last.”

The siege and storming of Tyre has been considered one of the greatest of Alexander’s exploits.

After the subjugation of Tyre, Alexander commenced his march for Egypt. His route led him through Judea. This was about three hundred years before the birth of Christ. A Jewish writer, named Josephus, who lived and wrote a few years after Christ, relates the circumstances of Alexander’s visit to Jerusalem.

When Alexander had been besieging Tyre, he had sent to Judea for supplies, which were refused, as the Jews were subjects of Darius. Hearing that Alexander was about to pass through Jerusalem, they began to fear a fate like that of Tyre. Accordingly the high priest Jaddus, who was the chief magistrate at Jerusalem, caused great sacrifices to be offered to Almighty God, and public and solemn prayers were made, to implore his guidance and protection.

The day after these services he told the people that they need fear nothing; for God had appeared to him in a dream, and directed him what to do. “We are not to resist the conqueror,” said he, “but go forth to meet him and welcome him. We are to strew the city with flowers, and adorn it as for a festive celebration. The priests are to be dressed in their pontifical robes, and lead the procession, and the people are to follow. In this way we are to go out to meet Alexander as he advances, and all will be well.”

When Alexander met this procession he stopped, and appeared both pleased and surprised. He advanced to meet the high priest with an air of the profoundest reverence.

Parmenio, astonished at such a sudden change in his sovereign, asked for an explanation. To which Alexander replied,—

“When I was in Macedon, before setting out on this expedition, one night I had a remarkable dream. In my dream this very priest appeared before me, dressed just as he is now. He exhorted me to banish every fear, to cross the Hellespont boldly, and to push forward into the heart of Asia. He said that God would march at the head of my army, and give me the victory over the Persians. I recognize this priest as the same person who appeared to me then. It is through his encouragement and aid that I am here, and I am ready to worship and adore the God whose service he administers.”

Alexander then joined the high priest in the procession, and returned with him to Jerusalem. The high priest afterwards read and interpreted to Alexander some of the prophecies of Daniel, which were supposed to refer to that conqueror; and Alexander then assured the Jews that they should be protected in their rights, and especially in their religious worship.

Alexander next proceeded to the city of Gaza. This was a place of considerable importance, and was under command of a governor, named Betis, whom Darius had appointed. This Betis refused to surrender the place to Alexander; whereupon, he besieged it for two months. Having captured the city, Alexander treated the wretched captives with extreme cruelty. He cut the garrison to pieces, and sold the inhabitants into slavery. Then becoming still more brutal, his punishment of Betis was most shocking. He ordered him into his presence, and said to him, “You are not going to die the simple death that you desire. You must suffer the worst torments that revenge can invent.”

Betis calmly looked at Alexander, without reply. This still more incensed the cruel conqueror.

“Observe his dumb arrogance,” said Alexander; “but I will conquer him. I will show him that I can draw groans from him, if nothing else.”

He then ordered holes to be made through the heels of his helpless victim; and passing a rope through the wounds, commanded the body to be fastened to a chariot, and dragged about the city until the poor captive was dead. Thus had prosperity and conquest degraded the character of Alexander.

Having destroyed Gaza, with such inhuman brutality, Alexander now formed a more ambitious project. The heroes of Homer were represented as sons of the gods; and Alexander now began to aspire to supernatural honors, and accordingly resolved that he should be declared to be the son of a god. He determined to visit the temple of Jupiter Ammon, in the Oasis of Siwah, and bribe the priests there to declare his divine origin.

The priests at the great temple of Jupiter Ammon received Alexander with marks of distinction and honor. After most solemn and magnificent ceremonies, the priests, pretending to confer with the god in the temple, declared that Alexander was indeed his son; and accordingly they paid him almost divine honors. Alexander, in his subsequent orders and decrees, styled himself Alexander king, son of Jupiter Ammon.

On his return from the Oasis, Alexander began building a city at the mouth of the river Nile. This city he called Alexandria. This city is the only monument of his greatness which still remains. Upon an island near the coast, opposite the city of Alexandria, a magnificent lighthouse was erected, which was considered in those days one of the Seven Wonders of the world. It was said to have been five hundred feet high.

The building of the city of Alexandria was one of the most beneficent acts of Alexander. How much better for the world, as well as for his own true glory, if good deeds had been the rule instead of the exception in the life of this famous man!

Alexander was now master of Asia Minor, Phœnicia, Judea, and Egypt. He now continued his pursuit of Darius.

The Persian army had crossed the Tigris river, and encamped upon the extensive plain of Arbela. Here Darius waited the approach of his relentless foe.

The night before the noted battle between Alexander and Darius, the conqueror, who had come within sight of the Persian host, having completed his arrangements for the morrow’s conflict, retired to rest. Early in the morning Parmenio awoke him, and expressed surprise at his sleeping so quietly when such vast issues were at stake. “You seem as calm,” said he, “as if you had fought the battle and gained the victory.”

“I have done so,” replied Alexander; “I consider the whole work done, when we have gained access to Darius, and forced him to give us battle.”

Alexander is thus described as he appeared at the head of the army on this important occasion. “He wore a short tunic, girt close around him, and over it a linen breastplate, strongly quilted. The belt by which the tunic was held was embossed with figures of beautiful workmanship. Upon his head was a helmet of polished steel, surmounted with a white plume. He wore also a neck-piece of steel, ornamented with precious stones; he carried a shield, lance, and sword.”

The Persians employed elephants in their wars. They also had chariots, armed with long scythes. But the terrible Macedonian phalanx, with columns of infantry and flying troops of horsemen on either side, cut through the mighty mass of their enemies with irresistible force. The elephants turned and fled. The Persian troops were routed, and Darius himself was obliged to flee. Alexander went to Babylon, where he was received as a conqueror. The storehouse of the Persian treasures were at Susa, a strong city east of Babylon. Alexander then marched to Susa, and took possession of the vast treasures collected there. Besides these treasures, Alexander here found a number of trophies which had been brought from Greece by Xerxes, some hundred years before. Alexander sent them all back to Greece. He then proceeded in a triumphal march to Persepolis, the great Persian capital. Here Alexander exhibited another striking instance of wicked weakness. He was giving a great banquet to his officers. Among the women at this feast was a vain and foolish woman named Thais. While the guests were half intoxicated from the effects of wine, this Thais, seizing a burning torch and waving it above her head, proposed that they should set fire to the great palace of Persepolis, which had been built by Xerxes, and amuse themselves by watching the imposing conflagration. Alexander, flushed with wine, consented; and the drunken guests sallied forth, alarming the inhabitants with their boisterous shouts and flaming torches. Arriving at the magnificent palace, they applied their torches, and the gorgeous structure was soon a frightful mass of lurid flames. Alexander, sobered by the sublime and awful spectacle, repented of his wild folly. He ordered the fire to be extinguished; but it was too late; the infamous deed was done; the grand old palace was a hopeless mass of ruins, and another blot, which never can be effaced, tarnished the fame and character of Alexander.

Notwithstanding Alexander’s evil deeds, he was kind to his mother. He sent her rich presents after his conquests; and though she was proud and imperious, and made Antipater, whom Alexander had left in command in Macedon, much trouble, so that Antipater was forced to complain of her, Alexander said that a single tear of his mother’s would outweigh ten thousand accusations against her. Olympias, however, did not repay his devotion with equal nobleness; she wrote frequent letters to him full of petty fault-finding, and making unkind comments upon his officers and generals; and though Alexander showed her respect, he evinced more love towards the mother of Darius, treating her and the captive children of his foe with the greatest kindness and consideration. After the battle of Arbela, while Alexander marched to Babylon and Susa, Darius had fled to Ecbatana. He was thus in one of the Persian royal palaces, while his family were with his conqueror at another. The wife of Darius had died before this time, while still a captive in the Grecian camp. Many of the forces of Darius had gone over to Alexander’s side, about forty thousand remaining faithful to him. But among these seeming friends were treacherous foes. A general, names Bessus, formed the plan of seizing Darius, and making him a prisoner, and then taking the command of the army himself. If Alexander should be likely to conquer him, he would then try to save himself by giving up Darius. If, on the other hand, their forces should be successful, he would then get Darius out of his way by assassinating him, and usurping the throne. Bessus communicated his plans to many of the chief officers, who agreed to become parties in the plot. The Grecian soldiers in the Persian army revealed this conspiracy to Darius, but he would not believe in the treachery of his countrymen. As Alexander advanced, Darius had retreated from Ecbatana, and Alexander followed him. While halting for rest, a Persian nobleman came into the Macedonian camp, and informed Alexander that the enemies’ forces were two days’ march in advance. Bessus was in command, and Darius deposed, the plot having been successfully carried out. Alexander immediately set forward in pursuit of Bessus and his royal prisoner. Alexander had now been two years advancing from Macedon into the heart of Asia, in pursuit of Darius. His conquest would not be complete until that monarch was captured. As soon as Bessus and the Persian army found that Alexander was close upon them, they attempted to hurry forward in the hope of escaping. Darius was in a chariot. They urged this chariot on, but it was too cumbersome for rapid flight. Bessus and his chief conspirators then called upon Darius to mount a horse and escape with them, leaving the rest of the army to its fate. Darius refused. Having become convinced of their treachery, he said he would rather trust himself in the hands of Alexander than to such traitors as they. Bessus and his confederates, exasperated by this reply, thrust their spears into Darius’ body as he sat in the chariot, and galloped away. Darius remained in his chariot, wounded and bleeding. His many sorrows had at last overwhelmed him. His kingdom was lost; his beloved wife was in the grave; his family were in captivity; his cities were sacked; his palaces and treasures plundered; and now, betrayed and abandoned, he was dying, slain by his treacherous countrymen, whom he had trusted as his friends. Alone, deserted by all the world, he, the once mighty monarch of vast dominions, now lay there, faint and bleeding, waiting the coming of death or his victorious conqueror.

The Macedonians at last discovered the chariot in which Darius was lying pierced with spears. The floor of the chariot was covered with blood. They raised him a little, and he spoke; he called for water. A Macedonian soldier went to get some; others hurried to find Alexander, and bring him to the spot where his long-pursued enemy was dying. When the soldier returned with the water, Darius received the drink, and then said to those about him, “That he charged them to tell Alexander that he died in his debt, though he had never obliged him; that he gave him a multitude of thanks for the great humanity he had exercised towards his wife, mother, and his children, whose lives he had not only spared, but treated them with the greatest consideration and care, and had endeavored to make them happy; that he besought the gods to give victory to his arms, and make him monarch of the universe; that he thought it was not necessary to entreat him to revenge his murder, as this was the common cause of kings.” Then taking Polystratus, one of the Macedonians who had brought him the desired water to relieve his agonizing thirst, he continued, “Give Alexander thy hand, as I give thee mine, and carry him in my name the only pledge I am able to offer,—of my gratitude and affection.” Saying these words, Darius breathed his last.

Alexander, coming up a moment after, was shocked at the spectacle before him, and wept bitterly. He then spread his own military cloak over the dead monarch. Having ordered the body to be embalmed, it was then enclosed in a costly coffin, and sent to Sysigambis, the mother of Darius, in order that it might be buried with the ceremonies usually paid to Persian monarchs, and be entombed with his ancestors.

The Persian generals under Bessus now resolved to betray him, as he had betrayed his master. They sent word to Alexander that they would deliver him into his hands if he would send a small force to the place where they designated. Accordingly this command was entrusted to a Macedonian officer named Ptolemy, who found Bessus in a small walled town, to which he had fled for refuge.

When Bessus was brought to Alexander, that monarch ordered the prisoner to be publicly scourged, and then caused his face to be mutilated in a manner customary in those days when a criminal was condemned to be stamped with a perpetual mark of infamy. Alexander then sent the traitor as a second present to Sysigambis, to be dealt with as her revenge for the death of Darius might dictate.

After being terribly tortured, the miserable Bessus paid the last penalty of his crimes by a most shocking death, inflicted upon him by Sysigambis, to avenge her murdered son.

Alexander was now twenty-six years of age. He was now the undisputed master of all western Asia. His wealth was boundless, his power was supreme, but his character was fearfully demoralized. He lived in the palaces of the Persian kings, and gave himself up to all sorts of vices. He spent his time in drunken debaucheries. The strong sentiment of love and respect with which he had formerly inspired all around him was gone, and conspiracies and treason prevailed. When the suspicions of Alexander were aroused, he put to death some of his most trusted officers.

At last there was a conspiracy, in which Philotas, the son of the faithful Parmenio, was implicated. Being arrested and put to the torture, Philotas accused his father, in the hopes of saving himself. Though there was no evidence against that trusty general, Alexander caused them both to be put to death.

The death of Parmenio and his son, in this violent manner, raised much unfavorable feeling against Alexander.

Another case exemplifies the wicked deeds of Alexander when under the influence of wine, and puffed up with vain-glorious pride.

One of his oldest and most faithful generals, named Clitus, was present at one of the frequent banquets given by Alexander. That monarch, excited with wine, had been boastfully recounting his own exploits, and had spoken disparagingly of those of his father Philip in comparison. Clitus, also heated with wine, began to praise Philip, under whom he had fought; and then growing bolder, he upbraided Alexander for the death of Parmenio. Alexander, frenzied with wine and rage, seized a javelin, hurled it at Clitus, and struck him down, saying, “Go then, and join Philip and Parmenio.” Alexander, as soon as he came to himself, was overwhelmed with remorse and shame. He could not, however, restore Clitus to life, or remove the disgrace from his own name.

Alexander continued for two or three years his expeditions and conquests in Asia. He penetrated into India as far as the banks of the Indus. But his soldiers refused to go further. He made an address to his army, but he could not change their decision. At last one of his officers said to him:—

“We have done all for you that it was possible for man to do. We have crossed seas and land. We have marched to the end of the world, and you are now meditating the conquest of another, by going in search of new Indias, unknown to the Indians themselves. Such a thought may be worthy of your courage and resolution, but it surpasses ours, and our strength still more. Look at these ghastly faces, and these bodies covered with wounds and scars. Remember how numerous we were when first we set out with you, and see how few of us remain. The few who have escaped so many toils and dangers have neither courage nor strength to follow you any further. They all long to revisit their country and their homes, and to enjoy for the remainder of their lives the fruits of all their toils. Forgive them these desires so natural to man.”

Alexander was bitterly disappointed, but found himself obliged to relinquish further conquest. He returned to Babylon, where his triumphal entrance was a scene of magnificence and gorgeous splendor.

But his life soon evinced the hopeless degradation into which he had fallen. He not only indulged in vice himself, but encouraged others to follow his evil example. He would offer prizes at his banquets to those who would drink the most, thus causing forty deaths at one of his entertainments.

Alexander now entered upon a life of the most effeminate luxury and profligate dissipation. He separated himself more and more from his old Macedonian friends, and delighted in Persian associates. He married Statira, the eldest daughter of Darius, and gave the youngest daughter to his particular friend Hephæstion, who was his chosen companion in all his drunken revels.

Alexander’s habits of intoxication and vice rapidly increased. On one occasion, after he had spent a whole night in drinking and carousing, some of the guests proposed that they should begin a second banquet instead of retiring.

Alexander half intoxicated, agreed. There were twenty present at this new feast. Alexander, to show how much he was able to drink, pledged each one separately, and then all together.

There was a very large cup, called the bowl of Hercules, which he now called for, and having filled it to the brim, he drank it off, and again filled the huge bowl, and again drank the entire contents. His strength soon failed him, and he sank to the floor.

They bore him away to his apartments. A violent fever followed this terrible debauch, which his physicians in vain tried to allay. At last, finding he must die, he drew his signet ring off from his finger; this was the token that he felt all was over. He handed the ring to one of his friends, saying, “When I am gone, take my body to the temple of Jupiter Ammon, and inter it there.”

Being asked to whom he left his kingdom, he replied: “To the most worthy.” Thus died Alexander the Great, at the age of thirty-two.

Preparations were now made to convey his body with royal pomp to its last resting-place, in accordance with his orders.

A very large and magnificent funeral carriage was built. “The spokes of the wheels were overlaid with gold, and the axles were adorned upon the outside with massive golden ornaments. The platform, or floor, of the carriage was eighteen feet long and twelve feet wide. Upon this there was erected a magnificent pavilion, supported by Ionic columns, profusely ornamented, both within and without, with purple and gold. The interior of the pavilion was resplendent with gems and precious stones.

“A throne was raised in the centre of the platform, richly carved and gilded. It was empty; but the crowns of the various nations over which Alexander had ruled were hung upon it. At the foot of the throne was the coffin, made of solid gold, containing the remains of the great conqueror. The arms of Alexander were placed between the throne and the coffin.

“On the four sides of the carriage were sculptured figures representing Alexander. There were Macedonian soldiers, Persian squadrons, elephants of India, troops of horse, and various other emblems of the departed hero’s conquests, sculptured upon this magnificent funeral carriage. Around the pavilion was a network of golden lace, to which bells were attached, which tolled mournfully as the carriage moved slowly along. Sixty-four mules, selected for their great size, drew this ponderous car. Their harness was mounted with gold and enriched with precious stones.”

Notwithstanding all this gorgeous pomp, the body of Alexander never reached its first destination. Ptolemy, the officer, to whom Egypt was given in the division of Alexander’s empire, came forth to meet this solemn procession, and preferring that the body of Alexander should be buried in the city of Alexandria, it was interred there, and an imposing monument was erected over his grave. This monument is said to have remained standing for fifteen hundred years, though no remains of it are to be found.

The most fitting comment upon the life and character of Alexander the Great will be found in these brief words of Napoleon Bonaparte, who said of Alexander: “He commenced his career with the mind of Trajan, but closed it with the heart of Nero and the morals of Heliogabalus.”

JULIUS CÆSAR.

100-44 B.C.

“The elements
So mix’d in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, This was a man!”
SHAKESPEARE.

THERE was wild tumult in the ancient city of Rome. The populace thronged the streets, carrying stones and bludgeons. Armed troops hurried hither and thither. The members of the Senate, a sort of House of Lords, were assembled in confusion; and their blanched faces denoted the terror which rendered them powerless to help. Several of the principal citizens had been murdered, and the other Roman lords, or patricians, knew not how soon their doom might come. But who was their terrible foe? Had some wild barbarian horde invaded their land and taken possession of their proud and magnificent city? Why did the nobles and men of rank tremble; and why were the common people roused to this wild outburst of fury?

It was no barbarian enemy, but civil discord amongst themselves, which thus filled the streets with murderers and the patricians with terror. Two powerful rivals were fighting for the possession of the Eternal City, which, at that time, was mistress of the world.

Marius, the plebian, or champion of the common people, had roused the populace to fight against Sylla, the patrician, who had been absent with his army in Italy. Sylla had been appointed by the Senate to command the forces which were to wage war with Mithridates, a powerful Asiatic monarch. But during his absence, his enemy, Marius, had contrived to have this appointment revoked, and to gain for himself this coveted command. Two officers, called tribunes, were sent to Sylla’s camp, to inform him of this advantage which his rival had gained over him. Sylla killed the two officers for daring to bring him such a message, and immediately marched towards Rome.

Marius, in retaliation, caused some of Sylla’s friends in the city to be put to death, and with his bands of soldiers endeavored to resist the entrance of Sylla and his army by throwing stones upon the troops from the roofs of the houses as they entered the city. Sylla then ordered every house to be set on fire, from which missiles had been thrown, and thus the helpless citizens were endangered by lawless and infuriated mobs on the one side, and relentless flames on the other. Marius was conquered, and obliged to flee for his life. He was an old man of seventy years of age. The Senate declared him a public enemy, and offered a large sum for his head. Alone and friendless, Marius wandered from place to place, enduring the greatest privations, and encountering many dangers, till at last he crossed the Mediterranean Sea, and took refuge in a poor hut among the ruins of ancient Carthage. Surely it would seem that his days of conquest were over. Alone, starving, helpless, old, and banished, with a heavy price set upon his head, his fortunes seemed indeed hopeless.

Leaving this fallen champion in his hut, amidst the ruins of a past power which could only remind him of his own hopeless prospects, we must return to the city of Rome, and look upon another scene.

A religious procession is wending its way through the famous Forum. This Forum was a magnificent square, surrounded by splendid edifices and adorned with sculptures and statues and many gorgeous trophies of past victories. There were vast colonnades forming covered porticoes, where the populace assembled and where courts of justice were held. This Forum was constantly embellished with new monuments, temples, statues, arches, and columns by the successful generals, as they returned in triumph from foreign campaigns. Here the various orators delivered their famous orations which inflamed the people to arms, or moved them to wild outbursts of enthusiastic applause in favor of some successful candidate, or calmed their boisterous tumult into silent and breathless attention to the impassioned and eloquent words which fell from the lips of these intellectual monarchs over the minds of their less gifted countrymen. It is night now in this great public square, and as the procession of priests and attendants slowly pass beneath a row of majestic colonnades and enter one of the temples, we note the face and figure of the foremost one. He is scarcely more than a boy, but he wears the purple robe called _læna_, and a conical mitre known as the _apex_, which mark his distinguished rank as holding the office of _Flamen Dialis_, or High Priest of Jupiter. This youth, seventeen years of age, is tall and fair, and though slender in form, is handsome and noble in bearing. He is descended from patrician families of high rank and proud position; and as he passes within the portal of the sacred temple, the beholder would involuntarily cast upon him an admiring glance, and if a stranger, would surely inquire who was this comely, noble youth who so early in life was distinguished by so high an office and royal bearing.

Again we enter the Forum, but it is now high noon. A noted orator has ascended the pulpit, where public speakers were accustomed to stand when addressing the assemblies. This pulpit was ornamented with brazen beaks of ships, which had been taken by the Romans in their many wars. Such a beak was named a rostrum, and the pulpit so adorned was called the _Rostra_, or the Beaks,—often termed in modern books a rostrum. As the orator of the day began to speak, a youth might have been seen pressing through the crowd, and listening with wrapt attention to the eloquent words which fell from the speaker’s lips. As the burst of impassioned appeal became more persuasive, the dark eyes of the youth flashed with responsive fire, and his cheek glowed with a flush of kindling enthusiasm. Though he wears now the robes of a Roman patrician, we recognize him as the same person whom we beheld at midnight entering the temple in the attire of a High Priest of Jupiter.

Again the scene changes to midnight, but it is not in the Roman Forum, but at a grand feast in one of the sumptuous palaces of a Roman lord. Amidst a party of gay and joyous young men, seemingly intent only upon luxurious pleasures, we see once more the face and figure of this same youth who has already so attracted our interest and admiration. Priest, student, devotée of pleasure, little did his companions or acquaintances imagine that this young Julius Cæsar, patrician born, but at the same time personally inclined towards the plebeian party, would become Julius Cæsar, future Master of Rome, and therefore ruler of nearly all of the then known world. This Julius Cæsar became the greatest hero of Roman history, and ranks as one of the three heroes of ancient days,—Alexander of the Greeks, Hannibal of the Carthaginians, and Julius Cæsar of the Romans, forming the famous trio.

Again we must return to the old exile among the ruins of Carthage. One day he is awakened from his hopeless despondency by wild rumors from Rome. His rival and enemy, Sylla, had equipped a fleet and sailed away to wage war with Mithridates. The friends of Marius now rally again, and the old exile is brought back from Africa in triumph and given the command of a large army. As he pretended to be the friend of the common people, they flocked to his standard. Vast multitudes of revolted slaves, outlaws, and desperadoes joined his forces, which now advanced toward Rome. As soon as Marius gained possession of the city, he began a dreadful work of murder and destruction. He beheaded one of the consuls, and ordered his head to be set up as a spectacle of horror in the public square. Blood ran like a red river in the streets of Rome. Patricians of the highest rank and station were everywhere seized without warning, without trial, and put to torture and death.

It is midnight in the great city, and under cover of the darkness, the evil deeds of blood-thirsty men, fired by hatred and lawless ambition, are renewed with fresh ferocity.

Against his bitterest enemies Marius contrived special modes of execution, in order to wreak upon them his insatiable revenge for his exile, and consequent sufferings and privations.

See! a party of men, composed of soldiers, and an enfuriated mob of people are dragging a lord of noble rank up to the top of a high rock, known as the Tarpeian Rock, from the summit of which state criminals were hurled down the precipice, upon sharp rocks below, where they were left to die in awful torture. This patrician, or Roman noble, had incurred the especial animosity of Marius, and so by his orders, the proud old man is torn from family and friends; and without trial, with the senate powerless to help, he is dragged here at midnight to suffer the ignominious and terrible death of a state criminal. This noted Tarpeian Rock still stands in Rome, and it received its name from this ancient story. In early times there was a Roman girl, named Tarpeia, living in the ancient city, when it was besieged by an army from a neighboring country. The soldiers of the besieging forces wore golden bracelets upon their arms, as well as shields; and upon demanding that Tarpeia should open the gates to them, she declared that if they would give her, “those things they wore upon their arms,” she would comply with their demands. She meant, of course, their bracelets; but not knowing the word by which they were designated, she brought upon herself a fearful doom. The soldiers agreed to grant her desire, and so she opened to them the gates. As they passed within, they threw their shields upon the poor girl, in proud derision, instead of giving her the coveted bracelets, exclaiming, “Here are the things we wear upon our arms.” Tarpeia was crushed to death beneath the weight of the ponderous shields; and so the spot where she fell became a rock of blood, and was ever afterwards called, in remembrance of her sad fate, the Tarpeian Rock. There is a further legend connected with this spot, for some of the ignorant people believe that in the interior of one of the many caverns, which have been found perforating this rock, Tarpeia still sits, enchanted, covered with gold and jewels. But should any one attempt to find her, he is fated to lose his way, and never to return from his reckless adventure. But the bloody triumph of Marius was of short duration. He was seized with a fatal sickness, and the cruel tyrant was obliged to meet an enemy he could not conquer. Death meted out to him some of the horrible torments he had inflicted upon others, as he died in delirious ravings, haunted by the presence of phantom foes. His son Marius assumed his father’s power; but Sylla, having returned from the Asiatic wars, and in his turn taking possession of the city of Rome, the followers of Marius were put to death with the same ferocity with which they had murdered others, and Sylla even exceeded the bloody deeds which had so brutally been performed by his hated rival. Thus the city of Rome was again plunged into wild confusion, and the scenes of murder and massacre, with all their shocking horrors, were re-enacted.

(From Photograph of Bust in Capitol, Rome.)]

It is at this time that the young Julius Cæsar first becomes a prominent figure in that bloody drama. Although Julius Cæsar was a patrician by birth, he was favorable to the plebian party. The elder Marius had married his aunt, and Cæsar himself had married a daughter of Cinna, who was four times consul, and was a powerful and ardent partisan of the party of Marius. Julius Cæsar, although at this time a very young man, was too prominent a person to be overlooked by Sylla, in his vengeance against the plebian party. The friends of Julius Cæsar tried to plead his youth with Sylla, saying that surely such a mere boy could do no harm. But Sylla had marked the aspiring spirit of the young nobleman, who with all his love of gayety and pleasure had not neglected his studies, and who was already gaining the dangerous reputation of an eloquent orator. Sylla now demanded that Julius Cæsar should divorce his wife Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna. Cæsar absolutely refused, partly from devotion to his wife, and partly from a proud indomitable spirit, which thus early was a prominent trait in his character, and which made him brave any danger rather than allow himself to be controlled. Knowing that punishment for his refusal to comply with the commands of Sylla would be destruction, Cæsar fled from Rome. Sylla deprived him of his rank and titles, confiscated the property of his wife and his own estates, and placed his name on the list of public enemies.